Category: English

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

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

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

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

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1 After Charlie’s childhood best friend drove her company into the ground, he wanted to take the hundred thousand dollars I had saved for me and our baby and give it to her. I begged him to give the money back, but all he said was, “Zoe will earn it back. You need to think long-term, Anna, not act like some paranoid miser.” When I demanded his friend sign a promissory note, he called me cold and heartless. Later, when she cried that she’d lost all the money and was going to starve, Charlie held her and promised to take care of her for the rest of her life. I quietly packed my bags and called my father. “Dad, you were right. Charlie is a piece of work. I’m coming home to take over the family business.” Just as I hung up, Charlie walked out of the guest room and said softly, “Anna, go make some soup for Zoe. She’ll be hungry when she wakes up.” I ignored him and headed for our bedroom. His face darkened, and he blocked my path. “Anna, it’s a hundred thousand dollars. Are you going to keep this up? Don’t you have an ounce of compassion?” he boomed. “If you’re not going to listen, then get out.” His voice was so loud it woke Zoe. She emerged from the room, draping herself over Charlie’s shoulder and shooting me a look of pure disdain. “Seriously, Charlie? You were the king of campus from high school through grad school. Your family’s well-off. How did you end up with such a cheapskate?” Charlie sighed, his gaze softening as he looked at Zoe. “Not everyone can be as generous and easy-going as you.” He glanced at my stomach. “And now, with a baby on the way, it’s too late for regrets.” I clutched my abdomen, watching the raw impatience on Charlie’s face. Could I even have this baby? My last check-up hadn’t been good. The doctor said it was a high-risk pregnancy and that the fetus was struggling. To carry this child to term and ensure its health afterward—from prenatal care to the first three years—would cost at least a hundred thousand dollars, with no guarantee of a healthy baby. And now, every day, I could feel the tiny life inside me growing weaker. That hundred thousand dollars was gone. My father would only help me if I divorced Charlie. When I’d ignored his objections and married him, my father had forbidden me from ever mentioning our family’s wealth, warning that it would cost Charlie his job. I was only three months along. Maybe it was better not to bring an unhealthy child into the world to suffer, especially with a father like this. But the thing that cut the deepest was that Charlie knew. He knew that money was meant to save my life and our child’s life, and he still gave it to Zoe without a second thought. If two lives—mine and our baby’s—meant less to him than Zoe, then there was no reason for us to stay. I turned to grab my suitcase from the bedroom. Zoe lunged forward and snatched it away from me, her voice a shrill command. “Stop it, Anna! Don’t you dare pull this ‘running away from home’ crap to make Charlie feel bad.” Her tone shifted, becoming theatrical. “I’ll go out drinking with my clients tonight. I, Zoe Archer, will get that money back for you if I have to drink myself into a hospital bed, okay?” Charlie, who never set foot in the kitchen, heard the commotion and rushed out. Zoe had changed into a flimsy, black silk slip dress and was heading for the door. She patted Charlie’s shoulder as she passed. “Don’t worry, buddy. I won’t let you down. I’m going to go earn that money right now. You just handle your wife.” Charlie panicked and threw the deadbolt on the front door. A tiny flame of hope flickered in my chest. Was he afraid I would leave? He strode toward me, and I held my breath, waiting for an apology. Instead, his voice was laced with ice. “Anna, you are the most vicious woman I have ever met. You’re a woman, yet you’re trying to force Zoe to sell her body to pay you back?” Before I could even process his words, he snatched my purse from my shoulder and tossed it directly into the fireplace. He glared at me, his eyes cold. “Let’s see how far you get without your ID or credit cards.” Then he turned to Zoe, his voice melting into a gentle murmur. “Zoe, we’ve known each other our whole lives. You’re more than family to me. Don’t worry about the money. We can sell the house, sell the car if we have to. Now, go change. I’ll take you out for a nice dinner.” He glanced back at the fireplace. “The smoke from that burning plastic is probably toxic. We can’t eat here.” I scrambled to the hearth, trying to retrieve my purse, but it was already a molten ruin. My driver’s license, my last few hundred dollars in cash, all gone. The screen of my phone was cracked and blackened from the heat. Fearing it might explode, I rushed to the kitchen for a pair of BBQ tongs and carefully fished it out. As Charlie and Zoe left, he deliberately locked the door from the outside—three full turns of the key. I was trapped. Had he forgotten? I hadn’t eaten either. The morning sickness was relentless, and I was too weak to cook. We had no snacks in the house; I’d been too sick to go shopping. All I could do was lie in bed, my stomach cramping with hunger while waves of nausea washed over me. I wanted to make a simple bowl of soup, but I didn’t have the strength. 2 I knew something was terribly wrong when I felt a warm gush and the coppery smell of blood. With the last of my strength, I crawled to the window. Seeing a light on in the apartment below, I grabbed a long laundry pole from the balcony and started banging on my neighbor’s window, screaming for help. The woman downstairs, Mrs. Gable, knew me. She knew about my difficult pregnancy. “Anna, honey, don’t panic!” she yelled up. “I’m calling 911 right now! I’ll get the building manager to open your door!” Ten minutes later, the paramedics and the manager were there. The door was open. I frantically borrowed Mrs. Gable’s phone and called Charlie. I had no money, and he had just received a bonus of nearly twenty thousand dollars. He picked up on the second ring. “Charlie, you need to come back,” I gasped. “I’m bleeding. The paramedics said I might lose the baby.” I heard Zoe snort in the background. “God, Anna, you sound like one of those desperate housewives in a soap opera, using the baby to get your husband’s attention.” The blood was flowing faster now. I screamed into the phone, all pretense of civility gone. “Have you no shame? He’s a married man! Stop clinging to him!” Zoe didn’t reply. She just tossed the phone aside, but the line stayed open. I could hear music blasting—a karaoke bar. It was Charlie and Zoe, singing a duet of some classic rock anthem about friendship. I could just make out the lyrics. One word, one life, one beer, one ride-or-die… I screamed Charlie’s name, but he couldn’t hear me over the music. Then, their voices rose together in a final, triumphant chorus. Through the hurt, through the pain, through it all, I’ll remain… I hung up the phone. I shouldn’t have held out any hope. For Charlie, friendship would always come first, even if it meant sacrificing his wife and child. But were they just friends? The sobs finally broke through, raw and uncontrollable. I called my father. He promised to have a friend in the city bring me cash immediately and said he’d have all my documents replaced within a day. Only then did I let the paramedics load me onto the ambulance. The surgery was under general anesthesia, but I still felt a deep, crushing pain in my chest. Charlie had been so excited about this baby. We’d picked out names for a boy and a girl. He knew how dangerous this pregnancy was, but the moment Zoe needed anything, he forgot everything else. I always thought that once the baby was born, once we had more time, he would see how much I loved him, how warm our home could be. I thought he would eventually choose us over her. How naive I had been. When I woke up, Charlie was sitting by my bedside. But Zoe was lying at the foot of the bed, under the covers. No wonder my back was so cold; her icy feet were pressed against my waist. I shoved her legs away. Zoe’s eyes fluttered open. She shot me a glare, then kicked me hard under the blankets before dramatically tumbling onto the floor. Charlie leaped to his feet and scooped her up. “Who kicked me?” Zoe mumbled, pretending to be half-asleep. “Jeez, what a jerk.” He cradled her in his arms, his face a mask of fury as he turned on me. “Anna, do my friends mean nothing to you? Zoe was worried sick about you. She’s exhausted, but she stayed here to keep you company. I saw she was cold, so I put her in your bed to warm up.” I almost choked on my own rage. Even a person with zero common sense knows that recovering from a miscarriage requires rest and warmth. And Charlie wanted me, the one who had just lost a child, to be his friend’s personal bed warmer? “Get out, Charlie!” I screamed. “I want a divorce!” Zoe scrambled behind him, pointing an accusing finger at me. “Anna, I won’t hold it against you for kicking me out of bed. But if you talk to my best friend like that again, I won’t be so forgiving.” She looked me up and down. “Who do you think you are? You’re just some girl from out of town. Charlie married you, he supports you, and what do you do? You deliberately get rid of the baby he wanted so badly. He’s been standing here for hours, and this is how you treat him?” Her eyes darted to Charlie, then back to me. “And who was that man who paid for your surgery? You’ve been seeing him on the side, haven’t you? That’s why you got rid of the baby!” I pushed myself up, grabbed the bowl of fruit from the nightstand, and hurled it at her. Charlie pulled Zoe into his arms, catching the fruit with his other hand. He looked at me, his face etched with profound disappointment. “Anna, are you lashing out because you’ve been caught?” “Haven’t I been good to you? You were the only woman I ever loved, the only one I wanted to marry. Why would you betray me?” His words hung in the air. The two expectant mothers in the neighboring beds and their husbands were now staring at me with open contempt. Zoe shot me a triumphant smirk. “Come on, buddy,” she said, pulling Charlie’s arm. “Let me buy you breakfast. As for your wife, let her stay here and think about what she’s done.” Charlie sighed, patting Zoe’s back. “Friends are so much better than wives. At least you care about me.” 3 My hands clenched into fists under the blanket. Had he forgotten? He used to have terrible stomach problems. For three years, I cooked him special, nutritious meals every single day until he was better. His “friend,” on the other hand, only ever dragged him out for heavy drinking and greasy food—the very combination that had once landed him in the hospital with a perforated ulcer. I was the one who nursed him back to health. He’d forgotten all of it. Exhausted, I drifted off to sleep. Less than an hour later, I was shaken awake. It was Charlie, his face a cold mask. “Hey. I’ve signed the discharge papers. Get up. Someone else needs the bed.” I clutched my aching stomach. “Why? I’m not well enough to leave.” “It’s just a miscarriage, what’s the big deal?” he said impatiently. “I got a refund on the hospital fees. I need to go with Zoe to a meeting with a client. If we can land this contract, it might save her company.” I stared at him, bewildered. “What does that have to do with me?” Zoe waltzed in, dangling a new designer handbag. “We were five thousand dollars short for this little gift for the client, so we had to use your hospital deposit.” She gave me a condescending look. “And don’t look at me like that. I know your lover boy paid for it. When I make my money back, I’ll pay you both back. Not that I want your dirty money, but Charlie spent his whole bonus trying to cheer me up last night, and I can’t let my buddy down.” Charlie grabbed her arm. “Let’s go, we’re going to be late.” At the door, he seemed to remember something. He pulled a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet and threw it at me. It fluttered onto my face. “I’m going with Zoe. Get yourself home. We’ll deal with you and that man of yours when I get back.” The moment they left, my father’s friend, Arthur, arrived with my father himself. I broke down, sobbing in my dad’s arms as I told him everything. He immediately hired a lawyer to handle the divorce, worried that Charlie would harass me while I was trying to recover. My father chartered a private jet to take me home. Just as we were about to take off, my father’s assistant came aboard with a gift bag. “Mr. Thorne, a contractor downstairs asked me to give this to your daughter. He’s hoping to secure his bid for this year’s project.” He presented the bag to me. “Perhaps you’d like to see if you like it?” I recognized it immediately. It was the same bag Zoe had been holding in the hospital. So, this was her brilliant plan: buy a gift to bribe my father for a business opportunity. What a coincidence. I looked at the assistant. “Tell the person who sent this that the money used to purchase it is tainted. We will never do business with them.” He nodded, understanding, and made the call before we took off. Back home, I found hundreds of missed calls and a flood of messages from Charlie on my old phone. Anna, have you lost your mind? All I did was lend some money to my childhood best friend. Why are you demanding a divorce? Is this because of that guy who paid your hospital bill? I saw his car, his watch. They’re worth millions. Are you leaving me because you think I’m poor? I’ve worked my ass off for you! I went from making nothing to a six-figure salary in three years! I’ve supported you this whole time! I tossed the phone in a drawer and started using a new one. He wasn’t wrong. He was incredibly driven. Most of his peers were still struggling to find stable jobs, but he had already made a name for himself in the city. When Zoe wasn’t around, he was a good partner. I cooked, he cleaned. He was frugal, didn’t smoke or drink, and spent less than five hundred dollars a month on himself. I earned a decent salary, and we managed to save almost everything, putting away a hundred thousand dollars in our joint account in just three years. I had been so close to proudly telling my father that I could make it without his help. But the moment Zoe reappeared, none of it mattered. Charlie would give her everything without a second thought. Even if nothing physical had ever happened between them, I couldn’t accept a husband who valued his friendship, his “bro code,” more than his wife. A week later, my father, using methods I didn’t ask about, got Charlie to sign the divorce papers. The decree was finalized. To celebrate my return, my dad decided to throw a massive gala and publicly announce that he was transferring fifty percent of the company’s shares to me. It also meant officially changing my surname from my mother’s back to my father’s. Seeing the silver in his hair, I agreed. Because I was still recovering, I was sensitive to the cold. Even though the occasion called for a gown, I opted for a chic, custom-tailored Chanel suit. It was warmer. I was standing in a quiet corner, nibbling on a piece of cake, when a hand clamped down on my arm.

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The wedding officiant had just gotten to the part about the rings when Olivia lifted the hem of her gown with one hand, reaching for the phone tucked into her garter. I caught her wrist. Her eyes snapped to mine, and in them, I saw a flash of pure, unadulterated irritation. “Ethan, let go of me,” she hissed, her voice a low whisper. “This is actually important.” She was trying to be quiet, but the delicate lavalier mic pinned to her dress amplified every syllable. Her words echoed through the silent, expectant venue. My silence seemed to light a fuse in her. She ripped her hand from my grasp. “What’s with the death stare? I told you, it’s an emergency!” Her whisper rose in pitch, sharp and defensive. “It’s not like the wedding can’t wait fifteen minutes! Do you have to make a scene and embarrass us in front of everyone?” Then came the final twist of the knife. “You know, I never should have said yes to getting married this soon.” 1 The wedding was halfway through, and she was throwing a fit over a phone call, yet somehow, I was the one turning our wedding into a farce. She gathered her white dress in her fists and ran, not walked, off the altar and out of the grand ballroom doors. Her parents, sensing a catastrophe, rushed to smooth things over, their smiles stretched thin. “That girl,” her mother said with a nervous laugh. “It must be something urgent from the hospital, you know how she is with her work.” “Ethan, honey, we’re so sorry you have to deal with this.” My hand clenched around the platinum wedding bands in my pocket, the metal digging painful grooves into my palm. Others might have missed it, but I saw her screen light up before she answered. The caller ID wasn’t the hospital. It was Leo. Her best friend. A part of me screamed that I should have called her out right there, demanded to know why she was still tangled up with him on the most important day of our lives. But I couldn’t. I wanted to salvage some shred of dignity for us. And then, her voice, warm and gentle, drifted back into the ballroom. She’d forgotten to turn off her microphone. “Leo? Why are you calling now? Are you not feeling well? Do you need me to come to the hospital?” Her tone was a universe away from the venom she’d just spit at me. It was the voice I hadn’t heard in years, the one that made me fall in love with her. The entire hall was silent, every guest listening, captivated. A wave of murmurs rippled through the crowd. The officiant stood frozen on the stage, his professional smile gone slack. I just stood there, a statue in a tuxedo. I couldn’t make out what Leo said on the other end, but Olivia’s voice became even softer, a tender coo that sliced right through me. “I know,” she said, her voice breaking with emotion. “Of course, you’re the one I love most.” A gasp went through the room. Someone finally had the presence of mind to lunge for the sound system and kill the power, but it was too late. Our parents, our relatives, my colleagues, her friends—everyone had heard it. A sudden cry erupted from the front row. My mother had collapsed in her chair, her face pale. The scene dissolved into chaos. I fumbled for my phone, my hands shaking as I dialed 911. My uncles rushed forward, helping me get my mom out of the venue and toward the ambulance. Through it all, Olivia never came back. I was the one left standing in the wreckage of our wedding, apologizing to guest after guest as they filed out, their faces a mixture of pity and morbid curiosity. Most of them just patted my shoulder, not knowing what to say, and left. By the time the last guest was gone, Olivia’s parents still hadn’t found her. No one knew where she’d hidden herself to take that damning phone call. They stood before me, their faces etched with shame, her mother nervously twisting the fabric of her new mother-of-the-bride dress. The celebratory crimson color of it felt like a deliberate cruelty, burning my eyes. “Ethan, there has to be a misunderstanding,” her father pleaded. “You and Liv have been together for so long. You know what she’s like…” I tore the white rose from my lapel and let it fall to the floor. My voice was hollow, scraped raw with a fatigue that went bone-deep. “I’m sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Hayes. I have to get to the hospital to be with my mom. Excuse me.” After all these years, standing on the precipice of marriage, I was just now realizing that I didn’t know her at all. I didn’t know she would tell her best friend she loved him most. I didn’t know he mattered more to her than I did. At my own wedding, I had become the punchline to a joke I never even knew was being told. 2 I had just arrived at the hospital and was peering through the small window of my mom’s room when my phone buzzed. It was Olivia, and from the moment I answered, her voice was a barrage of accusations. “Ethan, are you out of your freaking mind? So I took a phone call, what’s the big deal? Is this seriously how you’re going to act?” Her voice was sharp, grating. “First you give me that look at the altar, then you just kick all the guests out? Are we getting married or not?” “And don’t you forget, you were the one who begged me to marry you! You picked the date, I went along with the stupid engagement photos, and now you pull this? What is your problem?” “If this is how you handle things, how are we ever supposed to make it work? A fight every other day?” She didn’t offer a single word of explanation for telling another man she loved him most at our wedding. Not even a half-hearted lie to placate me. She didn’t even ask why the guests had left. She just launched her attack, because in her world, the fault could only ever be mine. She was never wrong. “Are you deaf? Or did you forget how to speak? I’m asking you, are we still getting married or not?” I pressed the phone to my ear, her shrill voice making my head pound. I walked down the sterile hospital corridor to a window at the end of the hall before I finally spoke. “Did you ask your parents why the guests all left?” Her impatience crackled over the line. “I was about to ask you! Where did you send my parents? They’re gone too.” I nodded to myself, the cold realization settling in my stomach. Of course. I could hear her parents’ voices in the background now, and Olivia let out an exasperated sigh. “Ugh, you’re useless. I can’t get a straight answer out of you.” “This was supposed to be a happy day, and you’ve completely ruined it!” Before I could even try to explain, she hung up on me. It was probably for the best. Let her parents tell her. At least they wouldn’t be met with a three-minute tirade for every sentence they uttered. My mom had just fainted from the shock and anger. After some fluids and a day of observation, the hospital discharged her. I wasn’t expecting Olivia to show up at the hospital room door the next morning, holding a bag of takeout. “I brought breakfast for Mom.” My own mother snorted from her bed. “The wedding’s off, we never signed the papers. I’m not fortunate enough to be your mother.” “Mom, please don’t say that!” Olivia’s eyes welled up, her gaze shifting to me, pleading. “Ethan, I’m so sorry about yesterday. It wasn’t on purpose. I can explain.” I said nothing, just took the bag from her and handed it to my mom. We were going to have to talk this out, and I wasn’t going to let my mom go hungry while we did. I led Olivia out into the hallway. She grabbed my sleeve, her voice dropping to a desperate whisper. “It was Leo. He called me from the wedding.” “He has severe clinical depression, Ethan. And he doesn’t have any family or friends here in Ridgewood. I can’t just ignore him.” “The last time, and the time before that, he almost… he tried to kill himself in his bathroom. With a razor. If I hadn’t gotten there in time, he’d be dead.” She looked up at me, her eyes wide and sincere. “I think the wedding… it made him feel insecure, abandoned. I was scared he was going to hurt himself, so I just said what he needed to hear to calm him down.” “That’s why I said those things. It was just to soothe him. Please, don’t take it to heart. I can explain to all our friends and family, I swear.” Explain what? That my fiancée is so adept at soothing another man’s fragile emotions that she’ll verbally assault me at our own wedding to do it? That I’m the clown in this twisted emotional circus? It was all so… undignified. She clutched my sleeve tighter, her sincerity feeling terrifyingly real. It was as if she could will the whole event away, as if there had been no fight, no public humiliation, no catastrophic phone call. As if we were still the same loving couple we were supposed to be. I didn’t respond. A tear slid down her cheek and landed on the back of my hand, the warmth of it startling me. “I was just so angry yesterday, I said things I didn’t mean! Ethan, I was wrong, I won’t ever get that upset with you again…” “I promise, I’ll never do that again. Just forgive me this one time, please.” “Give it a couple of days,” she whispered, her voice thick. “We’ll go down to the courthouse, make it official. And then we’ll throw another wedding, a bigger one, and we’ll explain everything. Everyone will understand.” Her words were earnest, her remorse palpable. She sounded like she truly meant it. But all I knew was that a crack had formed, a deep, jagged line through the foundation of everything we had built. A broken mirror can’t be made whole again. Staring at our shattered reflection, I had no idea how we were supposed to live a lifetime with this. 3 After I put my mom on the train back to her B&B, Olivia insisted on going to the supermarket. “I noticed you barely touched your food at lunch. I’ll make that pasta dish you love.” I was surprised she’d even noticed. I was about to tell her not to bother, that she didn’t need to go to any trouble, but she seemed so genuinely enthusiastic that I couldn’t bring myself to refuse. The evening was almost peaceful. For the first time since the wedding-that-wasn’t, the tension between us seemed to recede, leaving a fragile quiet in its place. As we sat down to eat, the atmosphere felt… almost normal. “Open it,” she said, a mysterious smile playing on her lips as she slid a small, elegantly wrapped box across the table. Inside lay a pair of exquisite silver cufflinks. “I saw these a while back and thought they’d be perfect with that new suit of yours. I was going to give them to you yesterday,” she said softly. “But things got… complicated. Better late than never, I guess.” I stared down at the cufflinks for a long time before I finally managed to speak. “They’re beautiful, Liv. Thank you.” A gift of cufflinks. A symbol of holding on to each other, of growing old together. It was a beautiful sentiment. I loved them. We started dating as freshmen in college. That was seven years ago. A lifetime. Maybe yesterday really was just a horrible, one-off disaster. Maybe she really did want to build a life with me. The two wedding bands were still in my jacket pocket, a heavy, constant reminder. I thought, for a fleeting moment, that now might be the right time to take them out. But her phone rang before I could move. The caller ID flashed on her screen. Leo. Her face changed instantly. “Hello? Leo? Are you okay? Don’t do anything stupid! I’m coming over right now!” “I’m sorry, Ethan,” she said, her voice tight with panic. “Something’s wrong. I have to go.” I could faintly hear the sound of glass shattering through the phone, followed by the muffled, guttural sobs of a man. Olivia shot up from her chair and bolted for the door. On her way out, she snatched the insulated container of pasta she had packed up before we sat down to eat. I looked at the plates on the table, the food now lukewarm. And I noticed, for the first time, that every single strand of pasta was flecked with chopped cilantro. She knew I hated cilantro. The meal was never for me. She had just used my kitchen to cook for him. I pulled the two rings from my pocket and threw them into the junk drawer in the dining room, along with the box containing the cufflinks. Every time I looked at them, all I could see was the chaos of the wedding, the frantic, desperate look on her face as she ran to another man. It was torture. Better to have them out of sight. Two people who once clung to each other in the dark, and I couldn’t even pinpoint the moment we started drifting apart. I tried to pick the cilantro out of my portion, but the flavor had seeped into everything. After a few bites, a wave of nausea washed over me. I scraped both our plates into the trash can. It was never meant for me anyway. I didn’t feel a single pang of guilt watching it disappear into the garbage. Later that night, my phone rang again. It was Olivia’s mom, her voice frantic. “Ethan, honey, is Liv with you?” “I’ve been calling her for an hour and she’s not picking up. If she’s there, just let me know so I can stop worrying.” “She’s not here, Mrs. Hayes.” A sharp intake of breath on the other end. “But it’s so late! If she’s not with you, where could she be?” Her voice dropped, filled with a weary resignation. “That foolish girl. I gave her such a talking-to yesterday. She’s probably ignoring my calls to spite me. Ethan, would you please do me a favor and call her? She always listens to you. She’ll pick up if it’s you.” She always listens to me? A bitter laugh almost escaped my lips. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Hayes,” I said, my voice flatter than I intended. “She’s probably just at a friend’s house. I’ll give her a call.” Of course, in Ridgewood, she only had one friend she’d be with at this hour. Leo. Olivia answered on the second ring, her voice already laced with annoyance. “I already told you I was going to check on Leo. Why are you blowing up my phone? I have dozens of missed calls. Don’t you have anything better to do than check up on me all day?” “Do you not have a job? Or hobbies? Why don’t you just scroll through your phone or something?” “Your mom asked me to—” Her voice shot up several decibels. “Ethan! You went and tattled to my mother?” “She’s an old woman! You’re stressing her out over this stupid little thing. I can’t believe you’d be so pathetic!” I had no energy left to argue. I just felt… tired. A deep, soul-crushing exhaustion. The line went quiet for a moment. Then I heard Olivia gasp. “Leo, don’t.”

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I’d been chasing Alex for eight years. On my ninety-ninth attempt at telling him how I felt, he finally said yes. The next day, he walked into a party with his arm around his new assistant and announced to everyone, “Surprise! Say hello to your new boss’s wife!” My friends shot me weird looks. They’d all seen me confess my feelings to him the day before. Before I could say anything, Alex let out a condescending laugh. “Oh, come on, Chloe. You didn’t actually think I was serious, did you? It was April Fools’ Day!” The assistant, a girl named Maya, feigned surprise. “Oh my god, Chloe, you actually believed him! That’s so sweet! But thank you for the flower. It’s really beautifully carved!” She held up a small, wooden rose. It was the first piece I’d ever successfully carved. Alex had begged me for it, and I’d finally given it to him. I’m not a patient person. The only two things I’d ever had endless patience for were my woodworking and Alex. But now, my patience had finally run out. 1 The entire room went silent. I ignored Maya and looked straight at Alex. “You think this is a joke, too?” He hadn’t expected me to be so serious. A flicker of guilt crossed his face before he covered it with a smirk. “Chloe, it was April Fools’. We all knew it was a joke.” “Yeah, Chloe! It was just a prank!” “Don’t be mad, Chloe. We didn’t think you’d actually take it seriously. Alex, you should have said something!” Our mutual friends, one by one, tried to smooth things over, but I could see the amusement in their eyes. The old me would have played along, laughed it off, and waited for the next opportunity to tell him how I felt. But the old me was gone. My patience was gone. “So, you all think this is a joke?” I asked, my voice cold. They shifted uncomfortably, avoiding my gaze. I walked over to Maya and looked at the wooden rose in her hand. I’d carved it when I was fifteen. It was my first real piece, and it meant the world to me. And now it was in her hands. Alex, still smirking, moved to shield his little protégée. I snatched the rose from her hand, snapped it in two, and threw the pieces on the floor. “What are you doing?! Alex gave that to me!” Maya shrieked. Alex’s brow furrowed, his voice sharp with anger. “Chloe!” I dusted the wood splinters from my hands. “It was mine to begin with,” I said calmly. “I can do whatever I want with it.” Alex scoffed. “Chloe, I threw this party to introduce Maya to everyone. Are you really going to ruin the whole night? If you don’t want to be here, then get out. Or, you can apologize to Maya, and I’ll let you stay.” In the eight years I’d been chasing him, I’d never once ruined his mood. Even when he’d hurt my feelings, I’d always waited to talk to him about it later. Before Maya, he would have gently stroked my hair and said, “I’m sorry, Chloe,” and made it all better. I gave him one last, long look and walked out of the room. The moment the door closed behind me, I heard her start to cry. “Alex, did I do something to upset her? She broke the present you gave me!” His voice was soft, comforting. “Shh, don’t cry. I’ll make her carve you another one.” Our friends chimed in. “Don’t worry, Maya! Chloe will do anything Alex says. You can have as many as you want!” “Yeah, don’t cry! Alex is rich! He’ll buy you something even better!” The voices faded as I walked away. The cold night air hit my face, and I let out a small, bitter laugh. Alex, my patience for you is officially at zero. 2 That night, I saw Alex’s Instagram post. It was a picture of Maya, smiling radiantly, holding a bouquet of red roses. In the background, Alex was looking down at her, his expression full of a tenderness he’d never shown me. I opened his contact, tapped the three dots in the corner, and blocked and deleted him without a second thought. The next morning, I was getting ready to open my small woodworking shop when Alex appeared, looking furious, holding a box from my favorite bakery. I didn’t even glance at him, turning back to my workbench to organize my carving knives. “I brought you a cupcake,” he said. It was his peace offering, the way we always made up. This time, I wasn’t accepting. He slammed the box down on the counter. “Chloe, what’s your problem?!” “Nothing,” I said, not looking up. “Are you still mad about yesterday? You blocked me. And deleted my number. Add me back. And look, I know you like me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t find love with someone else, right?” I finally looked at him, trying to suppress the nausea rising in my throat. “Do whatever you want. I don’t care.” He wasn’t expecting that. Then he saw the half-finished carving on my workbench and smirked. “You don’t like me anymore?” he asked, a teasing tone in his voice. “No,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t.” He picked up the carving. It was a small, intricate snake. “Then what’s this?” He chuckled. “Chloe, you don’t have to do this to get my attention. I’ve known you for eight years. I know what you’re like. This is for me, isn’t it? Every year for my birthday, you carve me some stupid piece of wood. Don’t you ever get tired of it? It’s so boring. Since you love carving so much, carve another rose for Maya, exactly like the old one. And apologize to her.” “Why should I apologize to her?!” I asked, incredulous. “Because you made her cry.” A familiar ache spread through my chest. I’d loved him for eight years, chased him for eight years. Every time I confessed my feelings, he would show up, listen patiently, and then gently let me down. “Chloe, we’re too young.” “Chloe, let’s wait until college.” Then Maya came along. “Chloe, it’s Maya’s birthday today. Can we do this another time?” “Chloe, is your little confession really more important than Maya being sick? How can you be so selfish?” “Alex,” I said, my voice shaking slightly. “That rose was mine. You know what it meant to me.” He looked at me, a flicker of guilt in his eyes. Just as he was about to say something, his phone rang. The ringtone was a recording of Maya’s voice, sweet and cloying. “Alex, I miss you! Come see me, okay?” He murmured a few soothing words to her and hung up. “I have to go,” he said. At the door, he turned back. “My mom wants you to come to my birthday party next month. I’ll pick you up. If you don’t come, she’ll kill me.” And then he was gone. We’d grown up together. After my parents moved away for business, his family had taken me in. He’d taken care of me, remembered everything from my favorite food to my period schedule. But he didn’t know that I’d stopped liking cupcakes years ago. I’d never missed his birthday. Every year, I would carve him a good luck charm. He used to wear them proudly. But since Maya became his assistant, he hadn’t worn a single one. I picked up my phone and made a call. “Master,” I said, “I’ve made up my mind.” “Well, well, the stubborn mule finally sees the light! What happened? Did you finally win over that boy?” “No…” “Ah, so he rejected you! I told you so! Hmph…” I listened to the old man’s grumpy but secretly pleased tone and felt a sense of relief. I had turned down my master’s offer to study with him time and time again, all for Alex. I had no reason to refuse him now. “You probably won’t be coming back here,” he said. “Say a proper goodbye to everyone.” “I will,” I said. 3 I finished carving the little wooden snake. Alex’s birthday arrived quickly. As promised, he came to pick me up. When I opened the car door, Maya was in the passenger seat. “From now on, Chloe,” she said with a smug smile, “you’ll be sitting in the back.” I didn’t say a word, just got in. Alex looked at me in surprise. The old me would have put up a fight, would have used our shared history to claim my rightful spot. But what was the point of fighting his girlfriend for a seat in a car? On the way, Maya chattered on, asking about Alex’s parents’ likes and dislikes. I put in my headphones, but she tapped me on the shoulder. “Chloe, you and Alex grew up together! You must know his parents so well! It’s my first time meeting them, I’m so nervous!” Through the rearview mirror, I saw the challenge in her eyes. “You don’t need to ask her,” Alex said, glancing at me. “She’s always too busy carving her stupid pieces of wood to pay attention to anything else.” I closed my eyes, feigning sleep. It was true, his parents adored me. We’d always argued about them. But this time, it was a farewell visit. There was no point in arguing. He frowned but didn’t say anything else. 4 When we arrived, Alex’s parents greeted me with warm hugs. “Chloe! It’s been too long! Have you forgotten all about us?” I smiled and made my excuses. The house was full of people, many of whom I knew. I found a quiet corner and tried to figure out the best time to slip away. “So, what if you’re his childhood friend?” Maya appeared in front of me, her arms crossed. “He’s mine now. You know, I actually kind of enjoy watching you grovel.” I stood up to leave, but something caught my eye. A small wooden charm hanging around her neck. My hand clenched into a fist. “Where did you get that?” She smiled sweetly. “Alex gave it to me, of course. I was sick, and he was so worried. He said he had this charm blessed for me.” My throat closed up. On his seventeenth birthday, Alex had been seriously ill. I’d stayed up all night carving a good luck charm for him, then walked miles to a temple to have it blessed. The next day, his fever broke. He’d cried when he found out what I’d done and promised that he would always protect me. And now, that precious charm was around her neck. “Give it to me,” I said, my voice loud enough to attract attention. Her eyes filled with tears. “But Alex gave it to me! You can’t just take it because you’re jealous, Chloe.” Whispers erupted around us. “Doesn’t she know he has a girlfriend? Why is she still clinging to him?” “She’s shameless. You should have seen her fawning all over him before.” “I heard she’s leaving, going to study woodworking or something.” “You actually believe that? She’s obsessed with him. She’s just trying to make him feel guilty.” Alex pushed through the crowd. He instinctively moved to protect Maya. “What’s wrong now?” he asked, his voice full of impatience. My hand trembled as I pointed at the charm. “Why did you give that to her?” He glanced at it. “Chloe, it’s just a piece of wood. What’s the big deal?” What’s the big deal? I couldn’t believe he would say that. I took a deep breath. “Happy birthday, Alex.” I handed him the small wooden snake and walked away. “Chloe! If you walk out that door, don’t ever come back!” he yelled after me. He looked down at the snake in his hand, turning it over and over. A look of panic crossed his face when he realized that, for the first time, I hadn’t carved his initials into it. He started to follow me, but Maya grabbed his arm. “Alex, it’s your birthday. I don’t want you to be upset. I’ll give the charm back to her.” He looked at the crowd of onlookers, then back at Maya’s tear-streaked face. “It’s fine,” he said, his voice softening. “Forget about her.” I went back to my workshop. The little space Alex and I had decorated together. I packed my things, throwing the carving knives he’d bought me into the trash. The rough, unfinished pieces we’d carved together, I threw them out, too. My phone rang. “Little one,” my master’s voice crackled, “I’ve sent your senior brother to pick you up.” There was a knock at the door. A handsome, scholarly-looking man stood there. “Chloe,” he said with a warm smile. “Master sent me.” “Okay, senior brother,” I said. 5 “Can we make a stop at my old house?” I asked as we drove. “There’s something I need to get.” He nodded. As we pulled up, I could hear the sounds of Alex’s party from next door. “It’s that punk’s birthday?” he asked. “Yeah.” I went straight to my old bedroom. On the very top of the closet, there was a small cloth bag. The carving knives my master had given me when I first became his apprentice. On my seventeenth birthday, Alex had given me a custom-made set, engraved with our initials. “From now on,” he’d said, “you can only use the knives I give you. You’re going to be the greatest woodcarver in the world.” He’d put my master’s knives up on the closet shelf, where I couldn’t reach them. “This way,” he’d said, “everything you create will be connected to me.” I stood on a chair, but I still couldn’t reach them. “Senior brother,” I said, a little embarrassed, “can you help me get that little bag down?” “You still haven’t grown an inch,” he teased, lifting me off the chair. Suddenly, an angry voice roared from the doorway. “Chloe! What do you think you’re doing?!”

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I was reborn. I woke up in the body of my twenty-year-old self. Right at this moment, my sister, Lily—no blood relation to me—was in the middle of a screaming match with her obscenely wealthy boyfriend, Dylan Harris. The reason was laughably trivial. She didn’t want to have children, claiming that any man who asked her to was a man who didn’t truly love her. In my last life, I watched her throw away a fortune that others could only dream of. That same night, Dylan, drunk and disoriented, stumbled into the wrong room. My room. I shoved him away in a panic. I spent the rest of that life being stupid and poor. This time, I looked at my own plain, unremarkable face in the mirror, and I smiled. I knew my chance had come—the chance to pick up the scraps Lily discarded and turn them into a life of unimaginable luxury. 1. The Ashford family’s villa was ablaze with light. I walked out of the kitchen with a platter of sliced fruit, just in time to hear Lily’s shrill voice cut through the living room’s opulent calm. “Dylan, I told you, I don’t want to have kids! Who the hell is your mother to pressure me? Is that all you see me as, too? Some kind of baby machine?” Beneath the crystal chandelier, the line of Dylan’s jaw was hard as granite. He pinched the bridge of his nose, refusing to look at her. “Lily, my mother was just making a casual comment. We’re not even married yet.” “Not yet, but what about later? Can you promise me your family isn’t just after my womb to pop out an heir?” Lily pressed on, her exquisitely made-up face flushed with anger. I lowered my eyes, placing the fruit platter silently on the coffee table, trying to make myself invisible. I was the Ashfords’ ward, Elara. A shadow they kept in the house, never meant for the spotlight. In my last life, this exact argument was the catalyst. Lily stormed off on a flight to Europe, and Dylan drank himself into a stupor at a bar. He was supposed to stay in the guest room the Ashfords had prepared for him, but he got the doors mixed up and found his way into mine instead. In the darkness, I smelled the sharp scent of alcohol on him. Then, with all my strength, I pushed him away and fled. I’d clung to my ridiculous pride and, in return, got an even more difficult existence in the Ashford house, followed by a lifetime of struggling at the bottom. This time, I wouldn’t push him away. The fight in the living room raged on. “Dylan, if you don’t give me a straight answer right now, we’re through!” “Lily, don’t be unreasonable.” “I’m being unreasonable?” Lily’s eyes filled with tears. “Fine. Then we’re through!” She snatched her Hermès bag from the sofa and stormed out of the villa without a backward glance. The sharp clack-clack-clack of her heels on the marble floor was a drumbeat against my heart. Dylan remained on the sofa, motionless. After a long while, he picked up his car keys from the table and left. I knew where he was going. Obsidian, the most extravagant nightclub in the city. I retreated to my own cramped, gloomy room in the attic, shedding the drab gray dress of a housemaid for the only decent piece of clothing I owned: a simple white dress. Then, I waited. At midnight, my phone rang. It was Hanson, the family butler, his voice laced with anxiety. “Miss Elara, Mr. Harris is intoxicated and insists on coming back to the villa. Could you please open the main gate? We need to get him to the guest room.” “Of course, Mr. Hanson.” I hung up, my heart pounding against my ribs like a war drum. This was it. I didn’t go to the main gate. Instead, I went straight to the second-floor guest room, the one directly across the hall from my attic stairs. I left the door to the guest room slightly ajar. Then I returned to my own room and did the same, leaving a small crack. Half an hour later, I heard the sound of a car engine below, followed by the heavy, shuffling footsteps of men helping someone up the stairs. The footsteps stopped right outside the guest room. “Mr. Harris, we’re here. You can rest inside.” The door was pushed open, then closed. I held my breath, my eyes glued to that closed door. One minute. Two minutes. Ten minutes. The guest room door was suddenly yanked open. Dylan’s tall frame filled the doorway. He was unsteady on his feet, his eyes glazed over. He was clearly very drunk. He seemed to be looking for something, stumbling as he moved, yet his path was taking him step by step toward my room. My heart leaped into my throat. In my last life, this is exactly what happened. He mistook my room for the master suite where he and Lily had spent so many nights together. He pushed open my door. The heavy smell of alcohol washed over me. This time, I didn’t scream. I didn’t back away. I just stood there, watching him. He mistook me for Lily, murmuring her name. “Lily…” A scorching hand clamped around my wrist, pulling me into a searing embrace. The world tilted on its axis. He pressed me down onto the small, single bed. This time, I didn’t push him away. Instead, I lifted my arms and gently wrapped them around his neck. Rather than struggle in the mud my whole life, I would use every chip I had—even my own body—to claw my way out. 2. The next morning, sunlight streamed through the crack in the window. I woke up first. The man beside me was still asleep, his brow furrowed, his handsome face etched with the fatigue of a hangover. I slipped out of bed silently, dressed, and then sat in the chair by the bedside, waiting for him to wake. Waiting for my sentence. About half an hour later, Dylan’s eyelashes fluttered. He slowly opened his eyes. His expression shifted from foggy confusion, to shock upon seeing me, to utter disbelief as he took in the unfamiliar, shabby room. Finally, his gaze landed on me, sharp and filled with an icy rage. “You?” His voice was hoarse, laced with danger. I met his gaze without flinching, my expression calm. “Mr. Harris, you were drunk last night.” He shot up, the blanket sliding off his torso, revealing a lean, muscular chest. His eyes fell on the damning crimson stain on the sheets, and his face grew even darker. He got out of bed and began to dress, his movements sharp with frustrated anger. He didn’t say a single word. The air in the room was so thick with tension it felt hard to breathe. Once dressed, he pulled a black card from his wallet and tossed it onto my small desk. “The PIN is six zeroes.” His tone was glacial. “Forget what happened last night.” With that, he opened the door and left without looking back. I stared at the black card on the desk, not moving to pick it up. I knew this was only the beginning. I walked to the window and watched Dylan’s car speed away, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake. It wasn’t long before my door was kicked open. Lily burst in, her eyes red-rimmed and wild, clearly having been up all night. Her gaze immediately locked onto the black card on my desk, then to the faint, tell-tale marks on my neck that I hadn’t been able to hide. Comprehension dawned, and she let out a piercing scream. “Elara! You little bitch! How dare you seduce Dylan!” She lunged at me, her hand raised to strike. I didn’t move. I knew I had to take this slap. CRACK. The sound echoed in the small room. My face stung, burning hot. “How could you? How could you!” Lily was hysterical, grabbing my hair and trying to drag me to the floor. I let her pull at me, my own gaze unnervingly calm. “Sister,” I said, my voice quiet but clear enough for her to hear. “You were the one who didn’t want him.” Those words were the spark that ignited the bonfire of her fury. Lily froze. She stared at me, her eyes wide with disbelief. “What did you say?” “I said, you were the one who didn’t want Mr. Harris,” I repeated, enunciating every word. “You pushed him away, didn’t you?” “Who the hell do you think you are? You think you have the right to pick up my sloppy seconds?” she shrieked, raising her hand again. This time, her wrist was caught in a firm grip. Hanson, the butler, was standing in the doorway, several other maids behind him. They had seen everything. “Miss Lily, your father and mother have asked to see you downstairs,” Hanson said, his voice grave. Lily wrenched her hand free, shooting me a look of pure hatred. “Elara, just you wait!” She stormed downstairs. I smoothed my rumpled clothes and hair, then picked up the black card from the desk and slipped it into my pocket. Then, I followed her down. My nest egg. The first real money I’d ever had. 3. In the Ashford’s living room, Mr. and Mrs. Ashford sat on the sofa, their faces grim. Lily stood before them, tears streaming down her face. “Dad, Mom, you have to do something! That slut Elara… she climbed into Dylan’s bed!” I descended the staircase and stood in the center of the room. All eyes were on me—scorn, fury, a hint of morbid curiosity. Mr. Ashford slammed his hand on the table and pointed at me. “Elara! You have the nerve to show your face? We raised you for all these years, and this is how you repay us?” “I did nothing wrong,” I answered calmly. “You dare to deny it?” Mrs. Ashford shrieked. “Lily saw it! The card Dylan gave you! You shameless little tramp!” I took the black card from my pocket and placed it on the coffee table. “This card was compensation from Mr. Harris.” “Compensation?” Lily sneered. “What a nice way of putting it. It’s the money you earned for selling yourself, isn’t it?” I lifted my eyes to meet hers. “Sister, if you hadn’t broken up with Mr. Harris, would he have been drunk last night? If you hadn’t stormed out on him, would he have even come here?” “You…” Lily was speechless. “I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time,” I said, lowering my gaze, my voice tinged with a well-practiced vulnerability. “Mr. Harris was drunk. He thought I was you. I couldn’t fight him off.” My story was a cocktail of truth and lies. But it was enough to soften the expressions of Mr. and Mrs. Ashford. What they cared about most was their relationship with the Harris family. “That’s enough!” Mr. Ashford silenced Lily, who was about to argue further. “This matter is not to be spoken of again! Elara, go back to your room. You are not to come out without my permission!” He was putting me under house arrest. I didn’t resist. I turned obediently and went upstairs. Back in my room, I locked the door. Step one was complete. Now, all I had to do was wait for Dylan’s next move. I was confined for three days. I didn’t go anywhere, just stayed in my room and read. Lily would come to my door every day to hurl insults at me, each more vile than the last. I ignored her. I knew the more she behaved like this, the more immature she would seem to Mr. and Mrs. Ashford. On the morning of the fourth day, my phone rang. An unknown number. I answered. “Hello?” “It’s me.” Dylan. My heart skipped a beat, but my voice remained steady. “Mr. Harris. Is something wrong?” There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Did you get the money from the card?” “I did.” “Buy yourself whatever you need.” His tone was that of a benefactor bestowing charity. “Thank you, Mr. Harris.” “I’ll be there tonight.” He stated it as a fact, then hung up. I clutched the phone, letting out a long, slow breath. The fish was on the hook. That evening, I took a shower and changed back into the white dress. Mr. and Mrs. Ashford were out, and Lily had gone to a party. The villa was quiet. Around ten o’clock, Dylan’s car pulled up to the gate. I went downstairs and opened the door for him. He smelled faintly of alcohol, but he wasn’t drunk. He walked into the living room, sat on the sofa, and loosened his tie. He looked at me, his expression complicated. “Did they give you a hard time?” I shook my head and sat on the sofa opposite him. “No.” “I know Lily’s temper,” he said, almost to himself, as if explaining something. “She’s just spoiled.” I didn’t respond, just listened quietly. He didn’t seem to need an answer. After a moment of silence, he stood up and walked toward me. He loomed over me, reaching out to grip my chin. “That night… why didn’t you push me away?” I tilted my head back, looking directly into his deep, fathomless eyes. “Why would I push you away?” His fingers tightened, a sharp pain radiating through my jaw. “You know who I am.” It wasn’t a question. “I know,” I said, not looking away. “You’re Dylan Harris. The man Lily threw away.” A storm gathered in the dark depths of his eyes. “You’ve got a lot of nerve.” He let out a cold laugh and released me. He turned, as if to leave. But in the instant he turned, I wrapped my arms around him from behind. His body went rigid. “Mr. Harris,” I whispered, my cheek pressed against his broad back. “My brother is sick. He needs a lot of money for surgery.” This was the excuse I had prepared for myself, a story plausible enough to lower his guard and perhaps even stir a flicker of pity. In my past life, my brother had died a slow, painful death because we couldn’t afford his surgery. This time, I wouldn’t let that happen. Dylan’s body slowly relaxed. He didn’t turn around, nor did he push me away. “How much?” “Fifty thousand dollars.” He was silent. I could feel him weighing the options. Weighing the fifty thousand dollars against me, deciding if I was worth it. “Isn’t there money on the card?” he finally asked. “I gave the card to my parents,” I lied. “They said it was my fault and that I couldn’t keep the money.” I was painting myself as an innocent, pitiful victim, oppressed by my own family. Men, especially proud, privileged men like Dylan, were suckers for that kind of story. He finally turned to face me. He studied me, his eyes filled with a mix of scrutiny, suspicion, and a flicker of something playful. “How dutiful of you.” I lowered my gaze, saying nothing. “I can give you the fifty thousand,” he said, then paused before adding, “but on one condition.” “Name it.” “Be my mistress.” He said the words so casually, but I could see a struggle I didn’t understand churning in his eyes. I knew this was both a humiliation and an opportunity. I looked up at him and smiled. “Alright.” My swift agreement seemed to surprise him. He stared at me for a few seconds, then, without another word, scooped me into his arms and carried me up the stairs. This time, he didn’t go to the guest room. He went straight to the master suite on the third floor. The room that had been prepared to be his and Lily’s.

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Other families have sister drama—the kind of love-hate dynamic that fuels reality TV. My sister and I? Pure, unadulterated hate. I despised her for always being the golden child, acing every test, every competition, leaving me in her dust. She, in turn, loathed me for being the wild one, the troublemaker, yet always seeming to be our parents’ favorite. How deep did the hate run? We wished each other dead. When she got into an Ivy League university, my parents poured all their savings into my art school application. That day, she actually held a kitchen knife to my throat. I shoved her back, hard, and she ended up in the ER. Afterward, she vanished from the hospital, never looking back. Years later, when my marriage imploded and domestic violence landed me in the hospital, I found my attending physician was her. 1 “Skylar Hayes, are you trying to ruin my life?!” Autumn Hayes burst into my room, a gleaming chef’s knife clutched in her hand. Mom and Dad stumbled in behind her, their faces etched with panic. Autumn clamped my arm, pressing the blade against my throat. I felt the cold, sharp edge pierce my skin, a thin line of pain blooming there. Her hand trembled as she screamed, a raw, desperate sound, at Mom and Dad across the room. “How dare you tell me I can’t go to school, giving all our money to her?!” Dad’s brow furrowed, his voice rising to match hers. “Nobody said you can’t go to school! You’re smart, you can retake the SATs, apply again next year! Are you even listening to yourself? Have you no respect for your father?” Mom frantically tried to pull Dad’s arm away, tears streaming down her face. “Autumn, honey, how can you call your sister useless? Please, Mom’s begging you, Skylar’s art school spot… it took so many favors to get. If she doesn’t go now, Professor Davies’ class will be full.” Professor Davies. The renowned art professor at the Mather Institute of Art. A guaranteed path to a prestigious career, if you got into his class. “Autumn, please be understanding this once. Let your sister use the money for tuition. Just two years, sweetheart. We promise, we’ll save up enough for your university tuition, okay? Just two more years.” The warm trickle of blood on my neck intensified, the pain sharper. Autumn was serious this time. She tugged me towards the window, her voice chilling. “What else would you call her? Useless?” She let out a bitter laugh, her gaze fixed on our parents. “Why do I always have to give in to her? Why, since we were kids, has she always been your priority?” “When I was little, I could’ve skipped a grade, but you insisted Skylar was too wild to be alone in kindergarten. So I stayed with her for another two years because she ‘couldn’t keep up’ in first grade.” “You always made us go to the same schools, the same classes, saying I could tutor her. But I’m two years older! If it wasn’t for her, I’d be in college already!” “Every time Skylar struggled, you made me hold back with her. Haven’t I been ‘understanding’ enough?” “Now she’s failing out and needs to go to art school, and I have to sacrifice another year for her?” “What are you complaining about with your sister?!” Dad roared, slamming something onto the floor. “I’ve given you everything, spoiled you both, and this is the selfish, ungrateful daughter you’ve become?” That ignited Autumn completely. All her pent-up resentment poured out. “You never think you’re wrong. You never see how unbelievably biased you are!” Dad pointed at her, his face a mask of disbelief and fury. “Who gave you the right to accuse your parents of wrongdoing?” 2 Autumn ignored Dad, completely lost in her tirade. “Skylar fought, she cheated, she skipped class—how many messes did you clean up for her? I worked myself to the bone just to get an ounce of the attention you showered on her, and still, everything revolved around her.” “Why? Just because I’m the older sister? Am I supposed to be her lifelong blood bank, dragged down by her failures?” The throbbing in my neck was unbearable, and her words ignited my own fuse. “You think I want you as a sister?!” Years of playground brawls had taught me a thing or two. I broke free from her grip, shoving her hard. She stumbled backward, hitting the corner of my dresser with a sickening thud. A faint thwack. My vision was red with rage; I barely registered her trembling form. “You were always perfect, always the best. I could never measure up.” She lay curled on the floor, her face ashen. Dad, still fuming, stood with his hands on his hips. Mom started to move towards Autumn, but Dad held her back. “Don’t touch her! Let her cool off. Holding a knife to her own sister? Unbelievable! What a heartless child I’ve raised!” Tears welled in my eyes, my voice shaky. “Every teacher we ever had said, ‘How could this straight-A student have such a dim-witted sister?’ Every family gathering, relatives would say, ‘Autumn’s the one to count on.’ And me? Everyone just shook their heads.” “They’d all point at me and say, ‘You two are sisters, but one’s an angel, the other’s a devil.’ Autumn, you’re smart, you’re brilliant, but why does everyone have to step all over me to praise you?” “And you call me a parasite? You think I wanted you as a sister?” I stepped over her, pushed past Mom and Dad, and flung open my bedroom door. This house was suffocating. I needed to get out. Professor Davies’ class, tuition money, who cared? Before I even reached the front door, I heard Mom’s horrified scream. “Blood! Oh my God, Miles, Autumn’s bleeding from the back of her head!” I spun around to see Dad scoop Autumn into his arms, rushing towards the exit. Autumn was taken to the hospital. Several stitches in the back of her head. A large patch of her long hair was shaved off. Mom and Dad sat in silence until she woke. Autumn opened her eyes but refused to speak. Mom held her hand, tears of pity streaming down her face. “Autumn, don’t be mad at your sister, she didn’t mean it. You know how she is, always a tomboy, never knowing her own strength. See, you even cut her neck, and she didn’t say a word.” 3 I lowered my head slightly, feeling the bandage around my neck. The cut wasn’t deep; the blood had almost clotted by the time they bandaged it. Autumn still didn’t speak, closing her eyes, shutting us out. Dad, seeing her stubborn silence, stood up, his brows furrowed, ready to erupt again. Mom pulled him and me out of the room. Outside, Mom gently pushed Dad. “Say less, she’s hurting. Don’t argue with her.” Then she looked at me. “Skylar, does your neck still hurt? Don’t blame your sister, going to an Ivy League was always her dream.” I stared at my shoes, then mumbled, “She cut me, I pushed her. We’re even. I couldn’t care less.” Mom patted my head, a relieved smile on her face. “That’s my Skylar. Big-hearted, doesn’t hold a grudge.” I remained silent, listening to the sounds from inside the room. Autumn shifted under the covers, turning away. Dad walked back in, placing a bowl of porridge on the bedside table. His voice was awkwardly strained. “Eat this after your shot. Your mom and I are going to pay Skylar’s tuition. Let’s just forget about this, okay?” “You’re old enough, be sensible. Stop making a fuss. You and Skylar are sisters. If you don’t support each other, who will?” Autumn stayed hidden under the duvet, silent and still. Dad picked up his car keys and left, Mom pulling me along. She paused at the door, speaking to the lump under the blankets. “Autumn, wait for us here. We’re just going to register Skylar for her classes.” In the car, Mom pulled out the thick envelope. “Skylar, you have to work hard for Professor Davies. Our entire savings, every last penny, is riding on you.” I clutched my backpack, a suffocating weight in my chest, and didn’t reply. Stepping out of the car, I looked up at the towering building. Professor Davies’ workshop was on the 33rd floor. I gripped my backpack strap, my voice barely a whisper. “Dad, Mom, maybe Autumn should go to college instead. I’m just not cut out for school.” Dad shot me a furious glare. “If you dare mess this up, I’ll break your legs.” Mom took my hand, pulling me into the elevator. “It’s okay, Skylar. Just focus on your studies. Autumn’s smart; she’ll get into an Ivy League eventually.” When we returned to the hospital after registering, the nurse informed us Autumn had checked herself out. She was gone. By the time we got home, she had taken her ID and university acceptance letter, packed a few clothes, and left. Dad swore, “Neither of you is any help,” grabbed his car keys, and rushed out to search. Mom, terrified, followed him. I tossed my backpack onto the sofa, my gaze falling on Autumn’s open bedroom door. I sat there, the image of her lying on my floor, blood pooling behind her head, replaying in my mind. Whatever. I’d always wished I didn’t have a sister. Now she was gone; I should be happy. Good riddance. Autumn vanished. Mom and Dad searched everywhere she might possibly go, but found nothing. After twenty-four hours, they filed a missing person’s report. Leaving the police station, Mom’s hands were still trembling. “Where could Autumn have gone? Why is she being so difficult? This is too much.” I supported her, saying nothing, as the three of us silently returned home. Hours later, the police called. They had contacted Autumn. 4 Mom panicked, immediately asking for her address. But the police said Autumn had explicitly stated she was safe and did not want her whereabouts disclosed. Autumn was an adult, capable of making her own decisions, so the police had to respect her wishes. They only relayed that she was safe, providing no address or contact information. After they hung up, Dad slammed the phone onto the table. “That girl is completely out of control!” I stared at the still-lit screen, a guess forming in my mind. A City. The place where her beloved Ivy League university was. Autumn had gone to college. But her major there was incredibly expensive, and our family’s savings could only cover one of us. How could Autumn, running away like that, afford her tuition? I knew where Autumn was, but I just sat there, saying nothing. I didn’t want Autumn to come back. “Waiting another year” to retake her SATs? I didn’t want to live in her shadow a moment longer. Thanks to Professor Davies’ connections, and my parents’ endless gifts and cash, the following year, I barely scraped into Mather Institute of Art. Mom and Dad were overjoyed, throwing a lavish celebration. During the party, relatives asked where their elder daughter was. Dad’s face darkened, and he scoffed. “Who knows where she went. Ungrateful child. Abandoned her family.” After college, I asked Mom and Dad for some money and took a grand trip. On the road, I met a guy from my city. We fell in love quickly—a whirlwind romance culminating in marriage. Autumn didn’t show up to my wedding, and no one mentioned her. But as Mom held my hand, wiping away tears on stage, her gaze kept drifting towards the door. I knew who Mom was waiting for, but I wouldn’t say a word. This was my shining moment; I didn’t want her to steal even a fraction of my spotlight. After the wedding, my husband, Adam, got a job transfer, and we moved to A City. My temper was as volatile as ever, and we had our share of arguments. I was still the same—if I couldn’t win with words, I’d resort to insults; if insults failed, I’d get physical. During an unprecedentedly heated argument, he hit me for the first time. He grabbed a vase and smashed it against my head. My temple hit the coffee table. The world went black for a split second. Before I could shake off the dizziness, a sharp pain shot through my lower body. Blood. So much blood. Just like the blood that day, when Autumn lay on my floor. He was terrified. He picked up his phone, but didn’t call 911. He called his mother, his voice trembling as he told her he’d hit me, and there was blood everywhere. I ended up in the hospital. I’d been a month pregnant and had just miscarried. I woke from a daze, my head wrapped in gauze. He wasn’t there. I was alone in the hospital room. I picked up my medical records and a thick stack of reports, seeing the miscarriage diagnosis. And then, clearly visible in the doctor’s signature line: Autumn Hayes. A sharp sting in my arm. My IV drip was empty, and blood was backing up into the tube. A nurse checked the bag, replaced it, and left. After she was gone, the door opened again. I saw Autumn, dressed in a white lab coat, walk in.

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The year I went blind, I was six. It was the same year I found Leo, half-frozen and left for dead in the snow. I begged my mother to save him, lying that I needed a companion, someone to be my eyes. Later, when we were alone, I whispered a promise in his ear. “I don’t want a guide dog. You just have to live. Go wherever you want to go.” But Leo stayed. After my mother remarried and left, he became the only thing I had. He watched over me as I grew up, my constant guide, my walking cane, my eyes. For my sake, he even abandoned his breathtaking talent for painting to study medicine, to become an ophthalmologist. But even after he became a brilliant eye surgeon, my world remained dark. Then came my 25th birthday. That was the day Sloane, a woman Leo once called his kindred spirit, won a major national art prize. He locked himself in his study. I could hear the rustle of paper, the sharp, angry sounds of tearing. “Just writing you a birthday card,” he said, his voice tight, strained with an emotion he was trying to hide. I smiled, wanting to go to him, to kiss the sadness away. But just as I took a step, a line of text scrolled across the darkness of my vision, stark and terrifying. “Don’t be a fool, little blind girl. He’s tearing up his paintings. On the back of every single one, he’s written ‘Audrey, go die.’” “Stop. Don’t take another step. There’s a frayed electrical cord on the floor in front of you. If you step on it, you’ll be electrocuted.” I froze, just for a second. Then I lifted my chin, forced a bright smile, and took a confident step forward. “Leo,” I called out cheerfully. “Whatever you wished for, I know it will come true.” 1 I walked carefully, deliberately, making sure I wouldn’t miss the frayed wire. Suddenly, Leo’s voice cut through the air. “Audrey!” It was a choked sound, thick with tears, but he didn’t say anything more. I pretended not to notice, my tone light and soothing. “Is your head hurting again? Come here, let me rub your temples.” The text in my mind flashed frantically. “Stop walking, you idiot! The wire is right at your feet!” Good. Right where I can’t miss it. But just as I was about to lower my foot, the doorbell rang, a shrill, piercing sound. It was followed by the violent scrape of a chair being shoved back. “Watch out!” A powerful force slammed into me, throwing me to the floor. My head cracked against the hardwood, my brain rattling inside my skull. The pain was a blinding white light in my endless darkness. Leo’s trembling hands helped me up. “Audrey… I’m so sorry… there was a live wire.” The text was a stream of curses. “What the hell is wrong with you, Leo?! You’re the one who wanted her dead, so why are you shaking now?” My own heart ached. You fool, I thought. Why did you have to go soft? I swallowed the pain and gave him a reassuring smile. “It’s my fault, I’m the one who can’t see. Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt.” The text exploded. “Is she crazy? Apologizing after he tried to kill her?!” But I knew. I knew that right now, Leo was in more pain than I was. I could hear his ragged, broken sobs. He opened his mouth to say something else, but his phone buzzed. A woman’s voice, clear even through the phone. “I know you’re home, Leo. I’m not leaving until I see you.” A pause. “Please. Think of this… as the last time.” I recognized her voice from the TV interviews. Sloane. The brilliant painter. She and Leo had met years ago, volunteering at a community arts program. He told me he’d found a kindred spirit. Sloane once told me that Leo’s art had more soul than anything she’d ever seen. But now, she was a celebrated artist, and he was a doctor trapped with a blind girl. Leo hated being a doctor. After every long surgery, he’d be sick for hours. His hand tightened on mine, a desperate grip, then suddenly released. He stumbled toward the door. The force of him pulling away sent me staggering backward. Disoriented, the back of my head connected with the sharp corner of the dining table. A warm, sticky wetness began to seep through my hair. “Leo,” I whispered, my voice weak. “It hurts…” The front door slammed shut. My hearing has always been sharp, a small compensation for my lack of sight. Even with the door closed, I could hear their muffled, desperate voices from the hallway. Sloane was crying. “Her eyes are a lost cause, and you know it! You can’t fix them! Those hands of yours… they have more talent than mine ever will!” she pleaded. “Come with me. Meet my mentor. It’s not too late, Leo, as long as you just…” “Sloane,” Leo’s voice was shaking as he cut her off. “I owe her my life.” He took a ragged breath. “She’s blind. If I leave her here… where would I go?” Sloane’s voice was filled with sorrow. “What about your dream? What about… me?” A long, heavy silence passed before Leo answered, his voice raw. “No matter what happens… we’ll always be kindred spirits.” I heard her sob, then the sound of her running down the stairs. “I won’t come back again… If you change your mind, use this to find my mentor.” Lying there on the floor, dizzy from the blow to my head, my mind drifted back to when I was thirteen. Some kids from the blind school had cornered me, and I’d come home with bruises blooming on my skin. Leo had been so furious, he’d insisted on transferring to the school himself, just to protect me. He, a brilliant student, giving up a normal high school to spend his days in a place that taught Braille and cane navigation. He stayed up all night, every night, just to keep up with the advanced curriculum of his old school. Then, when I was fifteen, my mother came to say goodbye. She was getting married again. She clutched my hands, her own tears splashing onto my face. “Audrey, your new stepfather… he can’t help me raise a blind child. It’s been so hard, you have to understand, don’t you?” Her voice was a pathetic whine. “Besides, I found Leo for you. He should be the one to take care of you!” She left with her suitcase, leaving me the old house and Leo. He was only eighteen, taking care of a blind girl, and the stress wore him down until he was a bundle of nerves and exhaustion. I used to cry and beg him to leave, to save himself. But he would just smile and stroke my hair. “Little crybaby. Look at the swallows nesting under the eaves. They always come in pairs. One can’t make it without the other.” But now, the little swallow was tired. He deserved to fly away on his own. I was just a blind girl nobody wanted. If Leo hadn’t held my hand all these years, I would have died a long time ago. I just had to make sure I died somewhere he’d never find me. Otherwise, the guilt would crush him. 2 I pressed a hand to the back of my head, smearing the sticky blood, and managed to pull myself to my feet just as the door opened. “What happened to you?” Leo’s voice was hoarse. “Where did all this blood come from?” The text flashed in my vision. “Is he serious? He’s the one who knocked her over!” I tried to smile. “I’m sorry. I can’t see, I must have tripped over something.” The words were barely out of my mouth when a glass shattered at my feet. “Audrey! How many years have you lived in this house? You still don’t know your way around?” I could hear his heavy, ragged breathing. I clutched the hem of my sleeve, my heart sinking. “I’m sorry, Leo. I’m just useless.” He went to the hall closet and pulled out the white cane that had been gathering dust for years. He grabbed my arm and started dragging me out the door. I couldn’t keep up, stumbling, nearly falling down the porch steps several times, but he didn’t slow down. “Leo, where are we going?” I cried, pulling back in fear. He stopped so abruptly that I slammed my face into his back. I felt a warm trickle from my nose. As I fumbled to wipe away the blood, I heard his voice, frayed and broken. “Audrey! There are millions of blind people in the world! Why can they live normal lives with a cane, but you can’t?” His voice cracked. “I’m not your guide dog! I can’t be your dog forever!” A fist seemed to clench around my heart. He gave me a hard shove from behind, and his cold words drifted back on the wind. “If you don’t learn how to walk the sidewalk on your own tonight, don’t bother coming home.” Then he was gone. His scent, his presence, everything vanished. All I could hear was the wind, the rush of traffic, and the murmurs of passersby. “Is she blind? What’s she doing out here? Trying to get hit so she can sue someone?” Darkness and panic swallowed me whole. I clutched the cane, fighting the urge to scream, and whispered his name under my breath. “Leo, I’m so scared.” When I was little, right after I lost my sight, I could never get used to it. I’d wake up to a world of black and start crying hysterically. Leo would always be the first one in my room, his hand finding mine in the dark. “I’m here. Don’t be scared, I’m right here.” Now, only the wind answered. The text in my mind was a torrent of fury. “Unbelievable! He was the one who swore she’d never need a cane, that he’d be her eyes forever! That bastard!” I wiped away a tear. No, it’s not like that. I’d long forgotten how to use a cane, how to feel for the textured paving of the sidewalk. A blind girl like me… I must be such a burden to him. I walked blindly, tapping the ground, moving toward the loudest sound—the blare of car horns at a busy intersection. Maybe if a car hit me, Leo could finally be that free swallow. But the impact never came. Instead, strong arms yanked me back, pulling me into a fierce embrace. Leo’s body was trembling. His voice was laced with despair. “Audrey, you’re blind, not stupid! Why can’t you learn?” His voice broke. “Out of everyone in the world… why did a blind girl have to be the one who found me?” Why? You fool. Then why are you still holding on to me? I finally broke, the sobs tearing out of me. “You’re right, I’m not stupid! So just go! I don’t want you taking care of me anymore!” When I was five, my parents were getting divorced. They fought every day about who would be stuck with me. They were so busy fighting they didn’t even notice I had a fever high enough to burn away my sight. A child nobody wants can’t even keep her own eyes, I thought back then. That’s why, when I saw Leo abandoned in the snow, my heart broke for him. I didn’t want there to be one more unwanted child in the world who couldn’t even keep his eyes. Leo’s arms tightened around me, his grip weak. “Okay, I’m sorry. Don’t say things you don’t mean.” His voice was a hoarse whisper. “If I don’t take care of you, are you going to let a car kill you?” He led me home. He never mentioned the cane again. But I knew he spent more and more time staring silently at the canvases locked away in his study. The next day, I hid in my room and made a call. The person on the other end exploded as soon as she heard my voice. “Why are you bothering me? I have no legal obligation to you anymore!” I sniffled, my nose burning. “Mom… I don’t need you to take care of me. Could you just… pretend to take me in? Just for a little while?” After I swore up and down that I wouldn’t be a burden, she finally agreed, saying that for old times’ sake, she’d pick me up after my half-sister got back from summer camp. I hung up the phone and smiled. It was good. My mother had a new child to love. And Leo could finally get rid of me. 3 When I knocked on Leo’s study door, I heard him frantically putting something away. “What is it? Did you lose something again?” His voice was sharp with irritation. I swallowed hard, then forced a playful smile. “Leo, my mom called. She said she’s doing really well now and feels terrible about everything. She wants me to come live with her. I said yes.” Disbelief colored his tone. “Do you have any idea what you’re saying?” “I want to live with my mother,” I repeated, my voice steady. He exploded. “Audrey, have you forgotten what she did to you? Haven’t you had enough of her cruelty?” Of course I hadn’t forgotten. In the years after the court gave her custody, she was always out on dates. Sometimes she’d be gone for days, forgetting to even leave money for food. A young Leo would go out in the dead of winter to collect empty bottles, using the change to buy a piece of bread that he’d feed entirely to me. He was just a boy, his own stomach cramping with hunger, but he’d pat my back and lie through his teeth. “It’s okay. I just ate too much.” I found Leo because I wanted him to live. But chained to me, he hadn’t had a single good day. I stood my ground, and Leo’s anger boiled over, but he refused to give in. Sighing inwardly at his stubbornness, I called Sloane. “Please,” I begged her. “Try talking to him one more time.” The day Sloane called him, I had just returned from another fruitless eye exam. The doctor’s sigh was heavy with finality. “This eye condition… if even Dr. Evans can’t do anything, I’m afraid this is how it will be for the rest of her life.” Leo’s fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were white. “Audrey, why do you have to be so useless?” Guilt washed over me. All I could say was, “I’m sorry.” Later, I heard Sloane’s heavy voice on the phone with him. “Leo, I’m leaving with my mentor in a few days. Once I’m gone… there won’t be another chance.” A pause. “Is this really… how you want to live the rest of your life?” Leo stared at me, his gaze so intense it felt like he could see right through me. Suddenly, his control snapped. He stormed into his study, grabbed something, and ran out of the house. Listening to the door slam, I felt a strange sense of peace. A day passed, and Leo didn’t come back. Sloane sent me a voice message. “Thank you for letting him go. He’s a natural. My mentor is incredibly impressed.” I was so happy. But I hadn’t eaten anything all day, and the hunger was becoming unbearable. This time, when Leo left, he’d forgotten to leave snacks out where I could easily find them. I used my phone’s voice command to order takeout, but the front door was locked from the outside. Night fell, and Leo still wasn’t back. Acid churned in my stomach. I fumbled my way into the kitchen, trying to find something to eat. But this is how useless a blind person is. I don’t know what I knocked over, but the kitchen caught fire. I scrambled to put it out, but I couldn’t even aim the water in the right direction. The flames spread, and thick smoke filled my lungs. I collapsed, my skin growing numb to the searing heat. “You worthless thing, Audrey,” I sobbed, crawling desperately toward where I thought the door was. “Don’t you die in here!” If Leo came back to find my charred body, he would never, ever recover. The text in my mind screamed directions. “This way, blind girl! Crawl this way, to the left!” I scrambled in the direction it told me, but the smoke was too thick. My consciousness began to fade. When I woke up, I was in a hospital. Leo arrived soon after, with Sloane right behind him. “I was only gone for one day,” Leo murmured, his voice ragged with exhaustion. “Why do you always manage to do this to yourself?” My hands twisted in the starchy sheets. “I’m sorry…” A police officer stood by the bed, his voice stern as he addressed Leo. “How can you call yourself her guardian? How could you leave a blind person home alone?” He gestured at me. “Do you have any idea how close she came to burning to death?” I opened my mouth to defend him, but then I heard Leo’s hollow voice. “Is this it? Every time I try to take a step forward, you pull a stunt like this to remind me that I can never leave your side?” At that moment, Sloane shrieked. “Audrey!” Her voice was sharp with accusation. “You deliberately had me call him, and just when he was about to agree, you do this! You wanted him to feel guilty, to trap him here forever, didn’t you?” I couldn’t see the raw anguish in Leo’s eyes, but I could feel it. And suddenly, I started to laugh. “So what if I did? As long as my eyes are like this, he owes me. He has to be my dog for the rest of his life. Why else do you think I rescued him in the first place?”

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