Category: English

1 I was reborn as the daughter of a villainous, cannon-fodder character. When I was one, I managed to give myself a raging fever, forcing him to abandon his plan to join the main antagonist in a bloody turf war. When I was three, I orchestrated a fall that fractured my leg, making him miss his fated encounter with the story’s female lead. When I was five, I used a local predator as a pawn to stop my father from helping the antagonist target the male lead, Ethan Reed. And now? My cannon-fodder father is screaming, his voice laced with pure terror, “Ethan, you son of a bitch, get your kid’s hands off my daughter! Get them off her! NOW!” Can you picture it? A man who lived for arson, murder, and every crime in the book, transformed overnight into a desperate single dad. To be honest, calling him a villain is giving him too much credit. After all, I’ve never heard of a villain who, right at the start of the story, ends up blinded in one eye, with a shattered leg, and dumped into the ocean by the male lead as shark bait. The real antagonist of this novel was a different breed entirely. He was dangerously beautiful, fought the hero, coveted the heroine, and flew into unpredictable rages, lashing out at anyone in his path. He danced on the edge of a knife until the very end. But my father? The moment he died, the main plot was barely 10% through. The remaining 90% was dedicated to the tempestuous, angsty romance between the main couple and their life-or-death struggles with the true villain. So, “villainous cannon fodder” is the best he gets. Right, Dad? 2 My father, Damian, leaned against the windowsill, a cigarette dangling from his lips. The smoke veiled his sharp, handsome features, giving him an air of untamed arrogance. He was only twenty, yet he possessed none of the lingering awkwardness of youth. Instead, he carried the cold, ruthless edge of a man forged in a world of blood and violence. A hero’s face with a side character’s fate, I thought with a sigh. Well, it’s standard procedure, the System chimed in my head. Any guy who pines for the female lead has to be hot, even the cannon fodder. It’s rule number one. At one year old, I was practicing my first steps. A baby’s bones are soft, my body still a stranger to balance. Inevitably, my left foot tripped over my right, and I face-planted onto the plush carpet. My worrywart of a father had already padded every sharp corner in the house with foam, terrified I’d stumble and crack my head open. So, in a few days, I mused internally, he’s supposed to go to that shootout with the main villain and get a piece of shrapnel in his eye, turning him into a one-eyed monster? The System’s tone turned grave. Correct. This is a prequel event, not detailed in the book. By the time he officially appears, he’s already lost an eye. It’s the catalyst for his descent into a twisted, violent rage. But remember, Host, you can’t just reveal the plot. The universe will literally silence you if you try. Just then, Damian noticed me waddling towards him. “Shit,” he muttered, hastily extinguishing the cigarette in an ashtray and throwing the window wide open. He waved his hand, trying to dissipate the lingering smoke. “I come to my own room for a damn smoke, and you follow me in here? Are you that clingy? Go on, get out! Don’t breathe this crap in.” For a moment, I forgot I was a baby. The acrid smell of smoke stung my nose. I immediately spun around, covering my face. “Dada… stinky,” I mumbled, making a break for the door. Rejected by his own daughter. He had to change his shirt and rinse his mouth out three times before I finally let him pick me up. He gave me a mock-stern look. “Next time you see me smoking, you stay away. Got it? Keep your distance.” I nodded, patting his handsome face with my tiny hands, nearly drooling. Say what you will about my dad being a cold-blooded bastard just like the main villain, but damn, he was gorgeous. I managed to string a few words together. “Dada… stay with me. These days.” A one-year-old’s language skills are a work in progress, so words came out in clumsy bursts. He cradled me against his chest, letting me touch his face as he sank into the sofa. A rare, gentle smile softened his features. “Alright, princess. I’ll spend the next few days with you.” Then, his phone rang. He answered it with a single, clipped word. “Lucian?” The main villain is calling? Oh no, don’t tell me he’s calling about… A rich, melodious voice drifted from the phone. “Damian… day after tomorrow… the arms deal… You and me. If they try to pull a fast one… we’ll burn their whole operation to the ground.” I froze. The prospect of action seemed to jolt my father from his languid state. “That old fox Vargas was never going to play fair,” he said, his voice sharp with excitement. “You jacked up the price on him. You think he wasn’t holding a grudge? This isn’t a deal, it’s an ambush.” I slapped my hand against his cheek. “Bah!” He gently pulled my hand away, giving my fingers a squeeze. “Don’t mess around, princess. Daddy’s talking business.” I glared at him. Your business is getting yourself maimed, you idiot! You’re going to lose an eye! But he couldn’t hear my silent screams. He just shifted my position on his lap to make me more comfortable. “Ga-ga-goo!” I protested again. Lucian chuckled on the other end, his voice a lazy purr. “Oh? Is the little piglet with you?” A surge of fury shot through me. “You… pig! Your family… pigs!” Just because I had a healthy baby appetite and was a little chubby, that asshole had branded me a pig. I remembered the first time I met him. Lucian had been dressed in a wine-red suit, his exquisitely beautiful face looking like something straight out of a dark fairytale. His fox-like eyes held a cold, detached glimmer despite the smile on his lips. He was less a man and more like a blood-fed poppy blooming in the depths of hell—utterly stunning and lethally dangerous. As a connoisseur of pretty faces, I was instantly mesmerized and reached out my arms for him to hold me. Then the beautiful man opened his mouth. “Damian, are you raising a piglet? She’s so fat, I’m surprised she hasn’t broken her stroller.” My world shattered. No girl, not even a baby, likes being called fat. Not even by someone that gorgeous. So when he leaned in to get a closer look, my outstretched hands balled into fists, and I landed two solid punches right on his pretty face. From that day on, I was “the Piglet.” “Your daughter can talk now?” Lucian teased. Damian scratched under my chin. “Just started a few days ago. You know what her first words were? She said, ‘Dada, I love you.’ I nearly passed out from happiness.” “Come on, little one,” Lucian cooed through the phone. “Say ‘Uncle’ for me.” “Piggy… pig,” I babbled sweetly. Damian sighed. “I told you she holds a grudge.” Lucian fell silent for a beat before smoothly changing the subject, steering the conversation back to bloody business—skinning their rivals, breaking legs, the usual gruesome topics. Fearing he’d scare me, Damian set me down on the floor to play and took the call out on the balcony, enthusiastically plotting mayhem with his best friend. When they were done, he scooped me up with one arm and prepared my bottle, his movements now practiced and sure. “Sorry, princess, I have to break my promise. I have something really important to do for the next few days. You be a good girl and wait for me at home, okay? Tell Mrs. Gable if there’s anything you want to eat.” I clutched my bottle, looking up at him with my most pathetic, wide-eyed expression. “Dada… you no go. Stay… with me.” He knelt, stroking my head. “I can’t. This is important.” I stared at him, my gaze unwavering. He met my eyes without flinching. Wailing used to be my go-to trick for derailing his criminal enterprises. But as a one-year-old, it would look less like a baby’s instinct and more like a temper tantrum. I had to be smarter. “Okay,” I whispered, defeated. But secretly, I asked the System, Hey, you have an item in your shop that can induce a high fever, right? We sure do, Host! Are you thinking…? I’m not letting my dad get disabled. How long does it last? Three days, the System replied cheerfully. And completely free of side effects! Perfect. 3 Just as Damian was geared up and ready to ride into battle with Lucian, I swallowed the tiny pill from the System. One minute later, I felt a wave of lethargy wash over me. Five minutes later, my body felt like it was on fire. Mrs. Gable, our housekeeper, had just finished making me a bowl of porridge. The moment she touched my skin to pick me up, her hand recoiled. “Good heavens!” She snatched me up, her face pale with panic, and rushed me to the car. The driver floored it, the tires screeching as we sped towards the hospital. On the way, she took my temperature, her hand trembling. 104°F! My face was flushed, my entire body ached, and I whimpered for my father. Mrs. Gable frantically dialed his number. “Sir, it’s Chloe! She has a fever…” The background on his end was noisy; I could faintly hear an airport announcement. His voice was tight with confusion. “What did you say? Chloe has a fever?!” “I was about to feed her,” Mrs. Gable explained in a rush, “and she was burning up. I just checked—it’s 104! We’re on our way to Mercy General Hospital now!” “What?!” he yelled. I squirmed in her arms, my voice a pathetic whine. “Dada… hot… waaaah… Dada…” “I’m coming back right now!” he shouted, his voice cracking with panic. “Chloe, don’t cry, Daddy’s on his way.” I could hear Lucian in the background. “What? You’re just leaving? What about me?” Damian’s voice was ice. “My daughter is sick. I’m going to take care of her. You handle those bastards yourself. You’re more than capable.” A dial tone was Lucian’s only reply. 4 My existence was the result of a scheme meant to trap Lucian, but his best friend, Damian, had walked into it instead. A one-night stand with my birth mother, and poof, I was conceived. Ten months later, she dumped me and a paternity test on the steps of the family mansion. Lost in the haze of the fever, I dreamt of those early days. Before I came along, my father’s motto was: There’s nothing money can’t solve. He promptly hired three top-tier nannies, offering them an exorbitant salary, hoping to pawn me off so he could continue his life of crime with Lucian. It didn’t work. I cried. Constantly. I cried when I wet the bed. I cried when I needed a diaper change. I cried even after I was clean. I cried when the nannies held me, and I cried when they didn’t. I cried when I was hungry, and once I was fed, I used my newfound energy to cry even harder. My wails echoed through the entire villa, a relentless siren of infant misery. The only time I was quiet was when my father was there, shaking a little rattle to distract me. The experienced nannies were at their wits’ end. They could only turn to me, the source of their torment, and my biological father, with pleading eyes. Damian stared back, utterly lost. Finally, unable to bear the noise any longer, he approached, letting the nannies guide him as he clumsily took me into his arms. Like magic, the crying stopped. I gazed up at him, gurgling happily and reaching for his face. “It seems the young miss is very fond of you, sir,” one of the nannies offered, trying to flatter him. Damian stared down at my tear-and-snot-streaked face, his expression pure disgust. “Don’t smile. You’re already ugly. Smiling just makes it worse.” I paused. Then, with great effort, I filled my diaper. A pungent odor slowly wafted through the air. Damian’s face turned a shade of green. The nannies’ smiles froze. “You little brat,” he seethed through clenched teeth. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?!” I just blinked at him innocently. What? I’m just a baby. I can’t control my bowels. His obsessive need for cleanliness kicked in. He felt phantom filth crawling all over him and was about to shove me back into a nanny’s arms and run for the shower. But I wrapped my tiny hand around his index finger and cooed. “You want me to clean you up?” he asked, his voice dripping with disbelief. “To change your diaper?!” I blinked again. “Not a chance!” he snarled. “Who do you think you are? I hired professionals for this. Don’t push your luck.” One minute later, Damian was grimly taking a lesson from a nanny on how to handle a baby’s messy diaper. He laid me on the changing mat and peeled off the soiled diaper, tossing it away like a grenade. The same hands that could expertly disassemble a firearm were now gingerly wiping my bottom with warm, wet cloths. After rinsing and drying me, he awkwardly applied diaper cream and fumbled with the tabs of a clean diaper. He stared at me for a long moment, his face a mask of irritation. “You’re the little queen of this castle, aren’t you?” I giggled, holding onto his finger. Something shifted behind his eyes. That cold, cynical heart of his was struck by something impossibly soft. He poked my cheek, creating a small dimple. “You little monster,” he chuckled. “Ahhh,” I replied. “I guess you’re not so bad,” he admitted. “Almost cute.” And with that, my father began his long, grueling, and utterly transformative journey into fatherhood. 5 When Lucian video-called a few months later, he did a double-take. “Damian… what the hell happened to you?” he asked, bewildered. My father looked like a ghost. His face was pale and drawn, his usually sharp, arrogant eyes were shadowed with a half-dead exhaustion. His hair was a mess, stubble shadowed his jaw, and the designer shirt that had fit him perfectly before now hung loosely on his thinned frame. Worse, he was multitasking—dangling a rattle with one hand to soothe me while reviewing a stack of corporate documents with the other. The ruthless mobster had been transformed into a haggard, sleep-deprived dad. Me, on the other hand? I was perched in my crib, plump and rosy-cheeked, babbling contentedly. “The last time you looked this bad was after you took a bullet to the chest and spent three months in the hospital,” Lucian mused. “Is raising a kid really that hard?” “If I hadn’t taken that bullet for you,” Damian snapped, “I wouldn’t be in this mess!” Lucian just clicked his tongue, completely unrepentant. His gaze flickered to me, cold and dismissive. “If you really don’t want to raise her, just dump her on a nanny. Or find a good family to adopt her out. She’s just a little girl. Is she really worth all this effort?” For men like them, who had walked in darkness their entire lives, who had betrayed family and spilled blood to survive, sentiment was a weakness. They were naturally cold-hearted, incapable of loving even themselves, let alone a troublesome infant. Damian shot him a glare, annoyed by his attitude. He reached for a cigarette, then remembered I was there and stopped himself. “She’s not ‘just a little girl.’ She’s my daughter. And I’ll raise her because I damn well want to.” “Fine, have it your way,” Lucian said with a shrug. “Not my problem. Anyway, I came to talk about our joint venture. That project in the West End…” “WAAAAAH!” My peaceful babbling instantly erupted into a deafening, house-shaking scream. Damian panicked. “Oh, my little princess.” He dropped the documents, scooped me up with practiced ease, and gently patted my back. “Is my baby hungry? Daddy will go make you a bottle right now.” Lucian stared, dumbfounded, as his notoriously cold and intimidating best friend—a man who could probably kill a bull with his bare hands—was suddenly radiating the holy light of fatherhood. “About the venture…” Lucian tried again. “Didn’t you hear my daughter crying?” Damian cut him off, his voice sharp with impatience. “She’s crying! I have to make her bottle. I’ve been running on fumes for months, between her and work. We’ll talk about business another time.” He hung up without another word. Lucian just stared at his blank screen. “…The hell?” The next day, Lucian showed up in person. He came bearing gifts—two cases of formula and a mountain of baby toys. Damian, who had just finished feeding me, decided to let his previous transgression slide and sat down to discuss business. After they finalized their plans, Lucian finally deigned to look at me again. He reached out and gently pinched my cheek. I gifted him a gummy, milky smile, my eyes wide and bright. I babbled sweetly and held up my arms, asking to be held. Even a hardened killer like Lucian wasn’t immune to a baby’s charm. My smile seemed to momentarily daze him, and he instinctively lifted me into his arms. Maybe human infants aren’t so bad after all, he probably thought, a flicker of warmth in his cold heart. “You…” In the next second, Lucian’s body went rigid. He felt a warm, wet sensation spreading across his hand and seeping into the fabric of his expensive suit. I tilted my head, my expression one of pure, angelic innocence. “OH, GODDAMMIT!” the villain shrieked. … Lucian’s obsession with cleanliness was even worse than my dad’s. He spent the next two hours scrubbing himself raw in the shower. Meanwhile, I was back in my dad’s arms, happily blowing bubbles. Take that, you big meanie. Serves you right for telling my dad to get rid of me. Damian was trying hard to hide his amusement, but he still put on a show of scolding me. “That’s your uncle, Chloe. You can’t be so rude.” I just cooed in response. When Lucian finally emerged, my dad had already changed me, fed me, and lulled me to sleep with a soft lullaby. Lucian glared at my sleeping form. “That little brat did it on purpose!” “Keep your voice down,” Damian warned, his tone sharp. “Don’t wake her up. It took me forever to get her to sleep.” Lucian extended a malicious finger towards my face, intending to poke me awake. “I don’t care! She messes with me, she doesn’t get to sleep.” “Go ahead,” Damian said coldly. “If you want to be treated to the sound of a screaming baby for the rest of the night, be my guest.” Lucian froze. He glowered at me for another moment before begrudgingly admitting, “She’s a good-looking kid. Takes after you.” He paused. “What’s her name, by the way?” Damian went silent. “You’re kidding me,” Lucian said, staring at him. “You still haven’t named her?” It was true. My dad usually just called me “princess,” “little monster,” “kiddo,” or “sweetheart.” So, the two of them, a crime lord and his top enforcer, spent the next hour poring over a dictionary. Damian was incredibly picky. Nothing seemed good enough, grand enough, for his daughter. Finally, tired of the debate, Lucian simply wrote a name on a piece of paper. Chloe. “It means ‘blooming,’” he said, his voice surprisingly soft. “Let her have a life that blooms in the sun, not in the shadows like us.”

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On Valentine’s Day, my mother-in-law died unexpectedly at the hospital. And my husband, Matthew Cleese, one of the city’s top surgeons, personally signed the organ donation consent form. Then he scrubbed in and harvested her heart himself. I stormed into the hospital, ready to tear him apart, but he just coolly pulled off his surgical gloves and spoke. “Clara’s mother has been waiting for this heart for three years. She saved my life once. This is the only way I can repay her.” “Clara only has her mother left in this world. Can’t you be a little more generous? I’ll bring her to lay flowers at your mother’s grave, and we’ll put this behind us.” I stared at the shrouded body on the operating table, then at the fresh bloodstains on his white coat, and fought the urge to laugh. He still doesn’t know. The heart belonged to his mother. 1 Clara White, a vision of innocence in a white dress, hid behind Matthew, looking fragile and pitiable. Matthew pursed his lips, avoiding my gaze. His voice was low and strained. “Three years ago, I was doing volunteer medical work when I was caught in a landslide. Clara and her mother risked their own lives to dig me out.” “They never asked for anything in return… Now her mother is sick. I can’t just let her die.” He paused, then added, “Your mother was old. She didn’t have much time left anyway. It’s better that she served a final purpose.” I stared at him in disbelief. This man, who had shared my bed for five years, was suddenly a stranger, and the coldness emanating from him was terrifying. How could a doctor, a healer, say something so callous? He hadn’t even visited his mother once since she’d been admitted. He’d just cut out her heart and handed it over to Clara White’s mother. I had thought he was ruthless enough to sacrifice his own mother for a debt of gratitude. I never imagined he thought he was sacrificing mine. The absurdity of it was almost laughable. “Matthew!” My nails dug into my palms. “My mother has never done anything to wrong you. How could you do this?” “And the person who saved you back then, it was—” Before I could finish, I was cut off. Clara’s eyes reddened. “Miss Reed, I know a simple country girl like me can’t compare to a lady like you.” “You have so many people in your life, but I only have my mother. If you’re really that unhappy, you can take it out on me.” She raised her hand and began slapping her own face, one sharp crack after another. Matthew grabbed her wrist, his voice softening. “Clara, stop. You don’t need to apologize. This has nothing to do with you.” He turned on me, his voice sharp with accusation. “I never knew you could be so vicious.” “Clara isn’t a monster like you. She’s kind. Even after her mother’s surgery was a success, she was worried about others. She begged me to donate the rest of your mother’s organs to people in need. Why can’t you be more like her?” My voice was shrill. “Matthew, what gives you the right to make that decision?” His eyes were like chips of ice. “I’ve already signed the consent forms. The body has already been taken away.” I looked into those cold, indifferent eyes and felt a chill seep into my bones. A sharp pain lanced through my heart. I felt a wave of injustice, not for myself, but for his mother. After Matthew’s father had an affair, it was his mother who walked away with nothing but him. She raised him alone, working herself to the bone to give him a future. And this was her reward. I straightened my back, my gaze locking with his. I spoke each word with deliberate clarity. “Matthew, you will regret this.” 2 My mother-in-law had treated me like her own daughter from the moment I married into the family. I couldn’t let her suffer such an indignity. But Matthew was now a celebrated expert, a titan in the city’s medical community. People were falling over themselves to do his bidding. How could an ordinary person like me possibly stand against him? I tried contacting the media, but every outlet gave me the same canned response: “Ma’am, we can’t run this story.” With no other options, I posted the truth online. The post lasted less than a minute before my account was banned. It was Matthew, of course. “Don’t waste your energy. You can’t win against me.” The voice came from behind me. I turned to see him standing there, a look of weary condescension on his face. “Autumn, can’t you just let this go?” I clenched my fists, my nails breaking the skin of my palms. “Never.” I had already looked into it. My mother-in-law’s condition hadn’t been serious. It was a minor procedure, one that should never have been fatal. Matthew had killed his own mother. And he wouldn’t even leave her body intact. If I let this go, I would be betraying the years of kindness she had shown me. Matthew’s face darkened. “Do you have any idea how many people in this city are begging me for a surgery slot? With a single nod, I have people who will eliminate any ‘problem’ for me.” He sneered. “Do you really think you stand a chance?” I met his gaze, my voice calm. “Let’s find out.” A vein throbbed in his temple before he turned and stormed away. He wasn’t always like this. He used to be the very picture of a compassionate doctor. He’d been scammed several times by people faking injuries on the street, but the next time he saw someone collapsed on the pavement, he would still rush to help without hesitation. I had once warned him against being too trusting. He had held me and said, “If everyone just stood by and did nothing, what kind of world would this be?” “I’m not afraid of being scammed. I’m afraid that one day, there will be someone who genuinely needs help, and my hesitation will cost them their life. I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night.” I don’t know when he changed. It wasn’t just because of Clara. He had become addicted to the power and control his status gave him. He had started to look down on ordinary people. I saw him again three days later. He walked in with Clara in tow, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Clara’s mother needs care. It’s more convenient for her to stay with us. I’ve already agreed.” I sat on the sofa, watching them in silence. Matthew suddenly exploded. “Autumn Reed, she is the woman who saved my life! Who do you think you’re scowling at?” I rose slowly, my voice devoid of emotion. “It’s your house. You can let whoever you want live in it.” I knew the calm wouldn’t last, but I didn’t expect the frame-up to come so quickly. I had just gotten back from meeting with a lawyer. Before I could even turn off the engine, my car door was yanked open. Matthew dragged me out, and I fell hard onto the pavement. Before I could get up, his icy voice rained down on me. “Autumn Reed, I never thought you could sink this low.” “Hiring men to assault Clara? Are you even human?” The disgust in his eyes was a physical blow, a knife twisting in my chest. “You make me sick.” 3 I knew Matthew could be cruel, but I never imagined this. He fabricated the entire story and posted it online, painting me as a jealous monster who couldn’t stand her husband’s savior and had resorted to violence. The post included a video from that day at the hospital, showing Clara on her knees, slapping herself. The internet went into a frenzy. 【My God, what a toxic monster. This is disgusting.】 【She’s jealous of the woman who saved her husband’s life? I can’t even with this.】 【How can people like this exist? Go to hell.】 A tidal wave of hate crashed over me. My inbox was flooded with messages telling me to die. My personal information, including my home address, was leaked. Matthew moved out with Clara, leaving me alone in the house. Every night was a new terror. Banging on the door that lasted for hours. People throwing venomous snakes into my yard. In just three days, I lost ten pounds. I was too afraid to go outside, huddling in a corner of the house. Eventually, I ran out of food. I put on a mask and a hat and slipped out, hoping to go unnoticed. The moment I stepped into the supermarket, a man with bloodshot eyes charged at me. “You bitch! You monster! Die!” I dodged instinctively. There was a hiss of acrid white smoke as a searing pain erupted on my left arm. The fabric of my sleeve instantly corroded, turning black. “You ungrateful snake! Women like you should be drowned!” Security guards tackled him, but he continued to struggle and scream. In the next moment, a tall figure stepped in front of me. “I’m sorry, everyone. I know this is my wife’s fault. And mine.” It was Matthew. His voice was gentle as he pulled me out from behind him, forcefully ripping off my mask and hat. Someone in the crowd recognized me. “It’s her! The monster from the internet!” “I can’t believe I’m seeing her in person. Get out of here! I feel sick just being near you!” I don’t know who threw the first one, but soon eggs and rotting vegetables were flying through the air, splattering against me. Matthew, standing in front of me, was not spared. A flicker of revulsion crossed his face, but he maintained his mask of a devoted, pained husband. “I know everyone is angry, and I’m not here to make excuses for my wife.” “But I hope you can give her a chance to make amends for her mistakes. We will be holding a public apology tomorrow in the main square.” He dragged me back home. I yanked my arm away, my voice like ice. “An apology? What apology?” Matthew wasn’t angry. “You were in the wrong this time. You owe Clara an apology. I’ve already arranged it with her. As long as you apologize tomorrow, she’ll agree to let this go.” I looked at his face and found it utterly laughable. He was the one who had put me in this hell, and now he was offering me a chance at forgiveness? “I will not apologize,” I said coldly. He just smiled and took out his phone. “Your mother’s organs were donated, but there are still some ashes left. It’s your choice. You can either show up and apologize, or you can say goodbye to what’s left of your mother.” I stared at the crude jar he was showing me on the screen. A cold sneer touched my lips. “Matthew, those are your mother’s ashes. Not mine.” 4 At my words, the color drained from Matthew’s face. “Autumn Reed, I’ve tried to be civil with you, but you keep pushing it.” “My mother treated you so well, and you have the nerve to wish death upon her? I won’t let you get away with this!” He grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the house. When we reached the main square, he kicked the back of my knees, forcing me to the ground. A crowd quickly gathered. He stood over me, his voice ringing with self-righteousness. “I’m sure you’ve all seen the news lately. I failed to control my wife, and she has done something terrible.” “I have brought her here today so that you can all witness her apology.” Clara appeared right on cue. She glanced at me timidly. “Matthew, maybe we should just let it go. It was my fault for getting too close to you. It’s only natural that Autumn would be upset.” “Miss White, you’re too kind! Good people always get taken advantage of. She needs to be taught a lesson!” someone from the crowd shouted. “Yeah! She should get on her knees and beg for your forgiveness! Everyone knows what she did!” “We support you! Make her apologize!” The roar of the crowd was deafening. My face was pale, my hands trembling. Matthew sighed dramatically. “Clara, you’re too good for this world. I worry people will take advantage of you.” “Since you’re too kind to punish her, as her husband, I will make her apologize to you.” He grabbed a fistful of my hair and slammed my head against the pavement. Crimson bloomed on my forehead, dripping down and blurring my vision. My strength seemed to drain away with the blood. “Autumn Reed,” Matthew commanded. “Do you admit you were wrong?” I bit my lip, my voice a raw whisper. “I did nothing wrong. I will not apologize.” He seemed shocked that I still had the will to defy him. His grip tightened, and he slammed my head down again. “Admit it! Do you admit you were wrong?” The pain was all-consuming. I was close to breaking. I bit down on my tongue. The sharp, metallic taste of blood cleared my head for a moment. “I. Did. Nothing. Wrong.” If I admitted guilt here, in front of everyone, no amount of evidence would ever clear my name later. I would not give in. Matthew sneered. “If you won’t admit your mistake, then you leave me no choice.” He ordered someone to bring a bucket of cold water. “As your husband, I can’t stand by while you walk down the wrong path.” My whole body trembled at the sight of the water. “Let… let go of me!” He held me fast, forcing my head down toward the bucket. Just as my consciousness began to fade, as despair took hold, a voice cut through the noise. “Let go of my daughter.” My mother burst through the crowd and threw her arms around me. Matthew stared at her, his face a mask of pure white shock. “How… How are you here?”

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In the third year of my marriage to Audrey, my uncle came home. He was, and perhaps always had been, the one that got away. I saw the current that still flowed between them, saw the way Audrey’s eyes clung to him when she thought no one was looking. This time, I decided to let go. The marriage between the Prescotts and her family was only ever on the table because my uncle, Grayson, didn’t want it. It fell to me. I packed my bags, erased my presence from our home, and chose a bright, clear day to leave. Audrey called. “Ethan, once I’m done showing your uncle around, I’ll be home to celebrate your birthday.” I watched the white contrail of a jet score the blue sky and said softly, “Don’t worry about it. I’m not really celebrating this year.” 1. The Prescott family has a standing dinner every month. My wife, Audrey, is a busy woman, and she rarely attended with me. When I showed up alone at the family estate, I was an easy target for their casual disdain. After years of the same remarks, you build a kind of immunity. So when my Aunt Carol started in again about my lack of ambition, about my inability to hold Audrey’s interest, I simply let my mind drift, outlining the next chapter of my novel. “Well, it’s one thing for you to be useless,” she said, her voice cutting through my thoughts, “but thank God Grayson is back today. He and Audrey were always so close. From now on, we should just let him spend more time with her.” Let Grayson do what with Audrey? My focus snapped back to the dining room. I felt a surge of disbelief. “Aunt Carol, Audrey is my wife. What are you trying to say?” She set down her fork with an impatient clatter. “What do you think I mean? They were good together. If Grayson hadn’t been so stubborn about going abroad for his doctorate, you never would have had the chance to pick up the scraps.” “Audrey is my wife,” I repeated, my voice tight. “We’ve been married for three years.” I pushed myself up, gripping the edge of the heavy mahogany table. The sudden emotion brought on a wracking cough, a familiar betrayal by my own body. Every eye at the table turned to me, their expressions dripping with contempt. I clenched my fists at my sides. I’ve always been the invisible Prescott son. Frail and prone to illness since childhood, I spent more time in bed than out of it, easily overlooked. When my mother was alive, she watched over me, even from her own sickbed. But after she died, I became a ghost in my own home, trailing behind my cousins, taking whatever they didn’t want. It wasn’t until I started earning my own money as a writer that I found any semblance of peace. Their scorn, their dismissal of me—I could live with that. But Audrey, my wife… that was the one thing I couldn’t concede. I couldn’t just play deaf and dumb while they plotted to push the woman I loved into another man’s arms. Why in God’s name should my uncle be the one to “spend time” with my wife? “I’ve lost my appetite. Please, enjoy the rest of your meal. Excuse me.” I turned to leave. “You stop right there! Who taught you to speak to your elders that way? Have you no manners?” My father’s voice boomed, his palm slamming the table. “It would make sense if I didn’t,” I said, turning back to face him, my gaze unflinching. “After all, you never taught me any.” The standoff was broken by a voice I hadn’t heard in three years. “Ethan, what’s all the fuss? Don’t ruin a perfectly good family dinner.” It was my uncle, Grayson. He sounded the same as ever—his words feigning concern while every syllable dripped with condescension, painting me as the petulant child. He hadn’t been in the house for five minutes, knew nothing of the situation, and had already laid the blame at my feet. I turned, an irritable retort on my lips, but it died when I saw who was standing beside him. A person who was supposed to be working late at her firm. “Audrey? What are you doing here?” 2. I hurried over to Audrey, my feet carrying me before my mind caught up. By the time I reached her, the reason for her presence was painfully obvious. Grayson explained with a wide, charming smile. “Today’s the family dinner, isn’t it? I was worried I wouldn’t make it in time from the airport, so I mentioned it to Audrey. Next thing I know, she’s insisting on picking me up herself.” I heard a quiet snicker from the dinner table. Before the meal, my father had asked why Audrey was absent again. I’d told them she was swamped with work. Yet one word from Grayson had her racing across the city to the airport and then all the way out to the family estate. The hierarchy was crystal clear. I forced a smile, looking at Grayson. “Uncle, if you needed a ride, you could have called a car service. You didn’t have to bother Audrey.” “We’re old friends from school,” Grayson said, draping an arm around Audrey’s shoulders in a theatrically familiar gesture. “What’s the big deal if she comes to get me? Right, Audrey?” Audrey slipped off her scarf and coat with practiced ease and handed them to me. “Ethan, don’t overthink it. Let’s just sit down and eat. Your uncle is finally back. It’s a reunion for everyone.” A sudden sting filled my eyes. She had already turned away from me, finding a seat next to Grayson. They sat shoulder to shoulder, their heads bent toward each other in conversation, looking for all the world like the high school sweethearts they once were. Anyone would say they were a perfect match. After all these years, it was like no time had passed for them. And me? After three years of marriage, was I just her convenient valet? A bitter smile touched my lips. Leaving now would only cause a bigger scene. I retreated to my original seat, directly across from them. Grayson’s presence lit up the room. He handled the relatives’ questions with the effortless grace he’d always possessed. For as long as I could remember, he was the center of attention, the golden child. I had once admired him, even tried to emulate him. Then, I grew to despise him. And Audrey… she still watched him with that same unwavering focus. My heart seized. I knew that look. It was the exact same way she used to watch him in high school. She was forever the salutatorian to his valedictorian. While Grayson worked on problem sets, Audrey would rest her chin on her desk and just stare at him, completely captivated. It never surprised me that she fell for him. Grayson was perfection on the surface. Before we were married, I had even wished them well. But now we were married. If she still held a flame for him, what did that make me, her husband? I picked at my food, the taste of it lost on me. On the drive home, Audrey said she was tired and asked me to drive. She sat in the passenger seat, eyes closed. I decided to test the waters. “Audrey, you do know that we’re married, right?” She frowned, her eyes still shut. “If you’re ever unsure, you can always look at the certificate in the filing cabinet.” I let out a breath, laughing at my own paranoia. But her next sentence plunged me right back into the ice. “By the way, Grayson’s just getting resettled. There’s a lot he’s not up to speed on here. I’m going to spend the next few days showing him the ropes.” 3. Audrey took Grayson to a corporate gala. When I said I wanted to go, she waved me off while selecting a gown. “I don’t need you there. One escort is enough. You should stay home and work on your novel.” Before I could ask why she was taking him instead of me, her husband, she offered a placating smile. “You can come pick me up when it’s over.” So I swallowed the words that might have started a fight and simply said, “Okay.” I didn’t want to fight with Audrey. Around eight o’clock, guessing the event was winding down, I packed a thermos of the ginger tea I’d brewed for her—it always helped settle her stomach after drinking—and grabbed a cashmere wrap in case she got cold. I parked near the hotel entrance, rolling down my window so I wouldn’t miss her, and waited, a sense of hopeful anticipation fluttering in my chest. At nine, she and Grayson emerged, arm in arm, and were immediately swarmed by a throng of reporters and photographers. I got out of the car and started pushing through the crowd, wanting to get her out of there quickly. She always hated the noise and flashing lights after a few glasses of champagne. But before I could reach her, I heard a reporter’s question cut through the din. “Ms. Hale, you’ve never made a public appearance with a date since your marriage. Is the gentleman with you tonight your husband?” I froze, looking up at Audrey from the edge of the crowd. She leaned into Grayson’s embrace, giggling at the question. “This is… this is the man I’ve loved for years.” In that moment, Grayson, perfectly sober, met my eyes over the heads of the press. After the reporters dispersed, Grayson and I helped a stumbling Audrey into the back seat of my car. “She’s had a bit too much to drink,” he began, a lecture forming on his lips. “Remember to get some of that tea into her when you get home. Take good care of her, Ethan, her tolerance isn’t what it used to be, you’ll have to be patient…” “Are you finished?” I cut him off. He looked at me, surprised, then clapped me on the shoulder with a reassuring, patronizing smile. “Ethan, I know they say ‘in vino veritas,’ but don’t take it to heart. Don’t fight with Audrey over this.” He leaned in, lowering his voice. “She said she loved me for years. Past tense. She didn’t say she still does.” “Is that right? You really think so? That’s great. I was worried you might get the wrong idea.” The night air was cool, but a hot, frustrated anger burned in my chest. From the back seat, Audrey mumbled. “Ethan… I think I’m gonna be sick…” I shot Grayson a glare and drove home.

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Something shifted in my girlfriend after she started working at the private movie theater. The day shifts left her sullen and drained, but for the night shifts, she’d get excited, slipping into a new mini-skirt and garter stockings. She’d come home breathless every time, her blouse and skirt a mess of wrinkles. But the strangest moment came when I told her my promotion was a sure thing. I told her she’d soon be able to live the life she’d always wanted, a life of leisure, and she wouldn’t have to work at that theater another day. Her face hardened. Her eyes flashed with a look I’d never seen before as her voice shot up, sharp and cold. “It’s tiring, sure, but the work… it’s satisfying. I get a real thrill out of it. If you have a problem with that, we can just end things right now.” The word “thrill” hung in the air between us. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing her, so I dropped it. But a seed of suspicion had been planted, and my interest in this so-called private theater grew. After all, I’d never heard anyone describe a job with a word like “thrill.” It wasn’t until my best friend invited me out for a “movie night” that I finally understood. After a night of complete indulgence, I had to admit—he was right. The thrill was undeniable. 1 Lately, Stella had been working almost exclusively night shifts. The theater, a boutique place called Eclipse, was in a remote part of the city. I hated the thought of her coming home alone in the dead of night, so I made a habit of driving to pick her up. Tonight, I saw her staggering toward my car from a distance, and a knot of worry tightened in my stomach. I got out to meet her. “Hey, you okay? You don’t look so good.” “I’m… I’m fine.” Her voice was a strained whisper. She clutched the hem of her skirt, her body tensed as if she were holding something back. “Let’s just go home,” she urged, her voice low. “It was a long night.” Instead of sliding into the passenger seat like she always did, she opened the back door and collapsed onto the rear seat. “I’m just going to try and sleep. Wake me when we’re home.” “Sure thing,” I said, but as I glanced in the rearview mirror, my heart skipped a beat. She was curled into a tight ball, her eyes unfocused, hazy, like a sky clouded over. Something was deeply wrong. I’d been against her taking this job from the start. Call it a man’s intuition, but anything with the word “private” attached to it felt like a red flag. And a six-figure salary for being a theater “attendant”? It sounded too good to be true. But Stella had just laughed, wrapping her arms around my neck and melting my resolve with a kiss. “Oh, Liam, you worry too much. It’s a totally legitimate place. You can come visit me anytime you want, see for yourself.” So I’d caved. I watched her walk away that first day in her little skirt, and I’d felt a pang of something I couldn’t name. That very same night, at my own company’s awards dinner celebrating my team’s success, a few of my drunk colleagues cornered me, nudging me to join them for a second round of celebrations. They grinned slyly. “How about a movie?” I was confused. “What’s open this late?” They snickered, pulling out a phone and showing me a dimly lit video. “Not a normal movie, man,” one of them whispered conspiratorially. “We’re talking about a private screening. They have attendants who show you how to watch the movie. That’s where the real fun is.” The video was dark, but I could make out a young woman in a uniform, kneeling on a plush carpet. She was smoothing out her wrinkled skirt and adjusting a loose bow on her collar. Before the clip ended, she looked at the camera, bowed with a practiced smile and said, “If you were satisfied with your experience, please leave a five-star review. I hope to see you again soon, sir.” My colleagues were howling with laughter. “This is how adults watch movies, man. Way better than some multiplex.” “And the soundproofing is top-notch,” another added. “Once that door closes, who knows what you’re really watching in there?” At the time, I’d just shaken my head and called them idiots. But now, seeing Stella in this state, a cold, unnameable feeling crept up my spine. When we got home, she went straight to the bedroom, collapsing onto the bed with a series of low moans. I pulled the duvet over her, wanting to make her comfortable. But as I leaned in to tuck her in, a faint, rhythmic buzzing sound started, seeming to come from directly beneath her. 2 “Can you wash my clothes for me, babe?” Stella mumbled, struggling to pull her top off before tossing it at me and sinking back into the pillows. Maybe it was my imagination, but as she moved closer, the buzzing seemed to grow louder. I kept my voice even. “What about the skirt? Should I take it off for you?” “No, babe, it’s fine. The skirt’s not dirty.” She shot up, stopping me as I reached for the waistband, and offered a weak, placating smile. “Just let me rest for a bit, okay? Last night was insane. The customers just kept coming, one after another. No breaks.” She sighed dramatically. “I could barely stand by the time I clocked out…” I watched the forced smile on her face, and a dull ache started in my chest. Seven years. We were supposed to be getting married. I didn’t want to doubt her. I closed my eyes for a second, then forced a smile of my own. “Okay. You get some rest. I’ll do the laundry.” As I went to toss her top into the washing machine, my fingers brushed against something sticky and damp on the fabric. I paused, my blood running cold. I turned the shirt inside out. A patch on the back was soaked with a strange fluid. A siren went off in my head. My hand holding the shirt began to tremble. Stella had complained before that the owner of Eclipse was a cheapskate who refused to run the air conditioning, even in the summer. She said she was always drenched in sweat by the end of her shift. It was why she always insisted on showering and doing laundry the second she got home, no matter how exhausted she was. But this… I never knew this was the kind of “sweat” she was talking about. My eyes scanned the wrinkled top, and the video my colleague had shown me flashed through my mind. The attendant in the video, her uniform was wrinkled too, though not as badly as Stella’s. And his words echoed in my ears: Once that door closes, who knows what you’re really watching in there? The answer was staring me right in the face. But I couldn’t accept it. Four years of college sweethearts, three years of building a life together after graduation. We were on the verge of marriage. Both our families adored each other. If it weren’t for this promotion I’d been working my ass off for, we’d already be husband and wife. I remembered our first kiss, how it tasted of strawberry candy. Stella had been trying to be smooth, mimicking a scene from a movie we’d watched. She’d popped a Jolly Rancher in her mouth before leaning in. “There,” she’d whispered, her cheeks flushed. “Now every time you taste strawberry, you’ll think of me.” She’d tried to act so cool and confident, but her ears were bright red as she’d turned and practically run away. That sweet, shy girl… how could she possibly be involved in something like this? “Babe? Is the laundry done yet?” Stella’s voice, lazy and satisfied, pulled me from my thoughts. She’d changed into her pajamas and was standing in the doorway. With a completely straight face, she took the balled-up skirt from her hand and tossed it into the machine with the top I was still holding. “My mom called earlier,” she said, wrapping her arms around me from behind, her tone suddenly shy. “She wants us over for dinner this weekend.” She rested her chin on my shoulder. “She asked when we were planning on getting married and having kids. I told her we’ve been… practicing a lot lately, and that we wouldn’t let her down.” My mouth was dry. I managed a quiet, “Okay.” Practicing? With who? The customers? A bitter cold spread through my chest, and a sardonic smile touched my lips. We hadn’t slept together in over a year.

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Mom called about her birthday, asking me to come home for dinner. I wanted to catch a ride with my sister, but she said she wasn’t going until tomorrow. I thought she’d gotten the date wrong, but my daughter cut straight to the truth: Every time there’s a family dinner, Grandma makes you come back early because she needs you to shop, prep food, and clean the house. Look at Aunt’s family—they show up the day of, get out of the car, and go straight to eating. I was stunned, because what my daughter said made way too much sense. 1 I was scrolling through my sister’s social media when I saw she’d taken her family on a trip. I looked at the photos and hit like, then accidentally noticed something in one picture—the necklace my sister was wearing looked familiar. I opened the photo and zoomed in to check the details. Finally confirmed it was the necklace I’d bought for my mom last week. Last week, my aunt had a birthday and invited a bunch of relatives over. My cousin gave Aunt a gold necklace as a birthday gift. Aunt was thrilled, showing it off nonstop, taking photos and videos. In all the cheerful atmosphere, I noticed Mom hadn’t laughed too loudly. She just kept staring at Aunt. More specifically, staring at the necklace around Aunt’s neck. I understood that look in Mom’s eyes. It was envy. My first thought was that Mom had never owned a gold necklace in her life. When she married Dad, he was poor and couldn’t afford the traditional jewelry set. He only bought her a gold ring. Mom said the ring was inconvenient for doing housework, so she rarely wore it. I understood Mom’s expression. I knew she wanted a gold necklace too. Work had been going well lately—I’d gotten $30,000 from a project bonus. My husband’s salary was stable and completely covered our household expenses. So normally I kept my salary and bonuses for myself. It was just a gold necklace. Right after dinner, I went to the jewelry store and bought one for fifteen hundred dollars. With the clerk’s help, I picked a style that older people would love. I happily gave it to Mom. “Mom, Aunt only gets one because it’s her birthday. You get one even without a birthday, because you like it, and I’ll definitely buy it for you.” Mom’s face lit up with a smile. She praised me for being filial, then put it on. I thought Mom was satisfied and happy. But I never expected that in just one week, the necklace would end up around my sister’s neck. My heart sank with an indescribable feeling. A coworker had told me before that Mom favored my sister. I hadn’t taken it to heart. Because I figured we were all family—mother and daughters, sisters—why keep score? But Mom had just handed off my gift to my sister like that. It really bothered me. So for several days, I didn’t say anything in the family group chat. Another week passed. That Saturday, Mom showed up at my door. She was carrying bags and bags, breathing heavily. “Scarlett, come help me out. Bringing all this stuff wore me out.” I rushed over to help, curious. “Mom, what is all this?” Mom changed her shoes and opened the bags to show me. “Look, your favorite pickled radish, and the oyster pancakes I made for you, plus fried fish.” Seeing all this food, I was touched. “Mom, why go to all this trouble? You must have gotten up super early.” Mom smiled. “It’s no trouble at all.” She sat on the sofa and chatted with me for a bit before saying, “Scarlett, about last time—Mom was wrong.” I didn’t respond. Mom continued, “Mom was really happy you bought that gold necklace, and I loved it. But Mom’s old now—what use do I have for that thing? Your sister’s not doing as well as you. She’s got bad judgment, married a useless man who’s all talk and no action, no steady job or income. They’re still renting.” “You’ve got good judgment. You found someone like Chen—bought a house and car, gave you the full jewelry set at your wedding, gave you and my granddaughter a stable life. You’re better than your sister in every way. You’re more fortunate than her, so Mom’s heart wants to favor your sister a little more.” “She didn’t even get gold jewelry at her wedding. Mom couldn’t stand seeing her suffer, so I gave her the necklace.” “Mom knows you’re upset, but Mom wants to tell you—you and your sister are equally important to me.” Hearing Mom’s words, my resolve started to waver. I’d thought Mom only loved my sister and not me, which was why she’d handled my gift that way. Turns out Mom had her reasons. I sighed. “Fine, Mom. Let’s just move past it.” Mom’s expression finally relaxed. She nodded. Around noon, I went out to buy groceries, planning to have Mom stay for lunch. When I got back, I heard voices in my daughter’s room. My daughter Sunny had interest classes on Saturday mornings. I got closer and heard Mom’s voice. “Sunny, how did your mother raise you to be so stingy?” “I see your closet is full of these dolls. What’s wrong with giving a few to your cousin Hao? He’ll thank you.” Sunny’s voice came through. “What do I need his thanks for? Is he some important person? I don’t want his thanks.” Mom’s voice carried some anger. “Sunny, that’s not right. Good children know how to share!” Sunny’s tone was firm. “Sharing is voluntary. Forced sharing is moral blackmail!” My daughter was only in third grade, but she was outgoing and clear-headed—something I’d always been proud of. Seeing my daughter wouldn’t give in, Mom reached out to grab the dolls. I pushed the door open. “Mom, what are you doing?” Mom looked embarrassed for a moment, then said, “Scarlett, you need to discipline Sunny. She has so many identical dolls—what’s wrong with sharing a few with Hao?” I shook my head. “No.” Mom’s expression changed. “Scarlett, your sister’s family isn’t like yours. Your nephew doesn’t have as many toys as Sunny…” I cut Mom off. “Mom, you taking my things to give to my sister—I let that go because they were gifts for you, so you had the right to decide who gets them. But everything in this room belongs to Sunny. I have no right to decide to give them away for her, and you shouldn’t pressure the child either.” Sunny happily grabbed my hand. “Mom’s the best.” She looked at Mom. “Grandma’s mean.” Mom’s face turned ugly. She turned and started gathering her things. When she got to the door, she lingered, clearly wanting me to ask her to stay for lunch. But I was genuinely upset and didn’t extend the invitation. After Mom left, I sat on the sofa feeling miserable. Sunny came out and sat beside me. “Mom, you were so cool just now, you know that?” I looked at her. “What do you mean?” Sunny smiled. “Mom used to always listen to Grandma. Whatever Grandma told you to do, you’d do it even if you didn’t want to. Every time we went to Grandma’s house, Dad and I felt so stifled. But Dad told me Mom had it hard too, and to just bear with it.” “Mom, you finally realized you can push back. You’re amazing.” Hearing Sunny’s words made my heart ache. “Sunny, you think Grandma favors Aunt too, don’t you?” Sunny shook her head. “Not favors—her whole heart is with Aunt.” At those words, I felt like my brain had crashed. Sunny pointed at the stuff on the table. “Mom, your tastes changed a long time ago. You used to like pickled radish probably because there wasn’t anything else to eat—you needed something to go with rice, so you ate pickled radish. But Grandma still only brings you pickled radish after all this time. She doesn’t pay attention to you at all.” “And the oyster pancakes and fried fish—Mom, look at this.” Sunny pulled out her phone to show me. It was my sister’s social media post. Thanks to Mom for bringing fried yellow croaker and oyster pancakes so early this morning. Kids with a mother’s love are so blessed. I opened the image. The yellow croaker was huge—a whole big bag of them fried. The oyster pancakes were plump and full. The oyster pancakes Mom brought me looked like broken scraps—all chives and batter, barely any oyster meat visible. I picked up my phone and scrolled. “How come I didn’t see this?” Sunny smiled. “Aunt blocked you. Good thing she doesn’t know this account is mine—probably forgot to label it.” Hearing this, my heart filled with bitterness. Sunny hugged my arm to comfort me. “Mom, accepting that your parents don’t love you is really hard. But Mom, you still have me and Dad. We’re your crew, absolutely loyal to you!” I hugged my daughter, moved to tears. From that day on, I didn’t contact Mom or my sister. When Mom complained in the group chat that the washing machine wasn’t working well, I pretended not to see it. When she complained the fridge seemed broken, I ignored that too. I even stopped paying the water and electric bills for her. I wanted Mom to understand—I was kind, I was filial, but I wasn’t a fool. Time flew by. Two months passed. Mom suddenly called me, saying next Wednesday was her birthday and asking me to come home for dinner. She told me she’d bought lots of food I loved, asked me not to be mad anymore about asking Sunny for toys last time, and to bring my husband and Sunny so we could all have a good time together. I agreed. I didn’t actually want to go, but it was Mom’s birthday and lots of relatives would be there. If I didn’t show up, I’d probably get interrogated by everyone. My car happened to have driving restrictions that day, so I messaged my sister asking what time she was leaving so she could pick me up. But my sister sounded surprised. “Sis, Mom’s birthday is the day after tomorrow. How could you forget our own mother’s birthday?” I froze and glanced at the calendar. She was right! The birthday was the day after tomorrow. Why had Mom told me to come tomorrow? Sunny was watching TV nearby. Seeing my confused expression, she couldn’t help but speak up. “Mom, think about it. Lots of times before, Grandma called you back early, didn’t she? Wasn’t it always to have you and Dad clean, shop for groceries and fruit?” “Aunt’s different. Aunt always arrives right on time and goes straight to eating.” “Mom, don’t you get it?” I froze, then thought back over all the past incidents. Suddenly I understood everything. I messaged my sister: Oh yeah, I got it mixed up. My memory! I’ll come the day after tomorrow too. I deliberately turned off my phone, planning to turn it back on the next day. That way Mom couldn’t keep calling me today. I also told my husband and daughter to turn off their phones too. We’d turn them back on the day after tomorrow. In between, I had no idea how many times Mom tried to call me. On Mom’s actual birthday, I timed it perfectly and set out with my husband and daughter right at mealtime. On the way, my husband asked with some concern, “It’s Mom’s birthday today. Are you really going back empty-handed?” I smiled. “Empty-handed? Didn’t I buy Mom a cake?” I pointed to the birthday cake I was carrying. An $8 clearance cake. My husband glanced at it, seemed about to say something, but held back. Because in the past, I’d really cared about Mom’s birthdays. I’d ordered every birthday cake. Two-tier, three-tier—I’d ordered them all. Because Mom’s birthdays meant inviting a bunch of relatives, and I didn’t want Mom to lose face in front of them. So the cakes would be very fancy. But this year, when I went to the cake shop to choose, all I could see was the huge yellow croaker and plump oyster pancakes from my sister’s social media. Even if my sister’s family situation wasn’t as good as mine, was that my fault? Why give away what I bought for her to my sister? Why treat us so differently, even with a few fish? I lost my enthusiasm for picking a cake and just grabbed a clearance one. My house was about a forty-minute drive from Mom’s. When we arrived, several cars were already parked outside. Looked like the relatives had arrived. My husband, daughter, and I got out and went into the yard. My aunt saw me first and quickly greeted me. “Scarlett, you’re here?” I called out, “Aunt.” Mom heard my voice and hurried out from inside. “Scarlett, why couldn’t I reach your phone? Chen’s too, and Sunny’s—none of you answered.” Seeing Mom’s reproachful look, I said, “We went out to handle something and didn’t bring our phones.” Mom clearly didn’t believe this flimsy excuse, but with so many relatives around, she couldn’t scold me. She just pulled me along. “Now that you’re here, come help. I’ve been working myself to death for half the day.” I turned to look at my sister, who was eating fruit and playing on her phone, and said angrily, “Ruby, what are you doing? Mom’s exhausted in the kitchen and you’re just sitting here on your phone?” My sister looked stunned. Mom quickly stepped forward. “Why are you calling her out? She doesn’t know how to do anything.” 2 I said nothing, just looked at Mom. Didn’t move, didn’t speak. Mom seemed to sense something was off with me and said helplessly, “Fine, if you don’t want to help, don’t. Why drag your sister into it?” I turned and left, heading to the front yard. Soon after, Mom came looking for me again. “Scarlett, didn’t Mom tell you to come back yesterday?” I smiled. “I almost got the date wrong. I asked my sister, and she said she was coming today, so I came today too.” “Mom, why did you tell me and my sister different times to come home? Is there some special reason?” Mom looked embarrassed. “Look at you, always overthinking. What special reason could there be? Maybe I just said it wrong.” “But Scarlett, look at all these people eating. I can’t manage it all. You’ve always been the most filial. Come help me.” I could see Mom just wanted to boss me around and couldn’t bear to let my sister lift a finger. So I stood up directly and said loudly, “Mom, you’re right—it’s too tiring for you to do everything alone. How about this—everyone get up and help, so we can eat sooner, right?” With me saying that, everyone felt too awkward to keep sitting and got up to help. With all the relatives standing, my sister naturally couldn’t keep sitting and playing on her phone. She had to pull her husband up too. I went to the kitchen to help sort vegetables. Looking out the window, I saw my husband cleaning fish. My brother-in-law was standing nearby watching. Looking like he didn’t want to lift a finger. It made me angry. I opened the window and yelled at my brother-in-law, “Brother-in-law, the kitchen’s out of coal. Go outside and carry in a bag.” I spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear. Mom heard and quickly stood up to intervene. “Your brother-in-law doesn’t have the strength to carry coal. Chen, stop cleaning fish and go carry it.” My husband, obedient as always, stood up to go. I suddenly shouted, “Don’t you dare!”

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Liam and I were the classic story: from high school sweethearts to walking down the aisle. But on the eve of our wedding, he died in a tragic accident. I was sobbing, on the verge of collapsing, when strange lines of text began to drift across my vision. 【CAN SOMEONE PLEASE TELL THE TRAGIC HEROINE THAT HE FAKED HIS DEATH?!】 【Liam’s little canary ran off after she heard he was getting married. He faked his own death overnight to chase her across the ocean. The heroine is crying at his grave while the canary is crying in his bed. I’M SO MAD.】 【It’s such a shame. When he comes back, the heroine won’t know a thing and will just happily marry him anyway…】 Half a month later. News of my engagement to the crown prince of A-City’s high society became the talk of the town. Liam’s best friend, who was in on the whole scheme, rushed to confront me, his voice full of indignation. “It’s barely been a month since Liam died! Are you really that desperate to find a replacement?” I just smiled. “He’s dead. I can’t be expected to stay a widow for him forever, can I?” 1 When the lines of text, like comments from some invisible audience, first appeared, I thought it was a hallucination brought on by grief. But they didn’t stop. 【If the heroine goes up to the rooftop right now, she’ll find out the male lead isn’t dead at all.】 【She’s barely eaten in two days because of him. She can hardly walk. How is she supposed to get to the rooftop?】 My legs felt like they were filled with lead, but I dragged myself towards the stairs, towards the rooftop. As I neared the top, I heard a voice I knew better than my own, laced with a familiar, playful teasing. “Is my funeral still going on?” The voice was coming from the phone of Liam’s best friend, Leo. “Not over yet, man,” Leo replied. “What about Aurora? She hasn’t suspected anything, has she?” “Not a chance,” Leo said with a chuckle. “She’s been running around, taking care of everything. She nearly passed out from grief yesterday. Probably still crying in her room right now.” Liam’s tone was casual, unconcerned. “Just do me a favor and comfort her a little.” Sam, another one of his close friends, chimed in. “But seriously, Liam, you must have really fallen for that little canary of yours. Faking your own death to chase her to England, and making all of us act in this drama with you.” So, the comments were real. My hand tightened on the railing, every cell in my body trembling. Then I heard Liam’s voice again. “Whether I’ve fallen for her or not is none of your business. Just help me keep it from Aurora.” Leo asked the question that was echoing in my own shattered heart. “So, are you still getting married?” “Of course,” Liam said without a moment’s hesitation. “When I get back, the wedding is on as planned. But a guy’s gotta have one last crazy run for love before he settles down, right?” “That’s true.” “Once you’re married, you’re tied down to one person. You don’t get chances like this again, haha.” The three of them laughed, a conspiratorial sound that froze the blood in my veins. A shudder wracked my body. I had prayed countless times for the slimmest possibility that Liam was still alive. I never imagined it would be like this. 2 【OMG, my girl sees the truth! I hope she wakes up and smells the betrayal.】 【GET OUT THERE AND DESTROY THAT SCUMBAG!!!】 But I didn’t rush out to expose them. I turned around and walked silently back down the stairs. After a bout of dry-heaving over the toilet, I stared at the woman in the mirror. Her eyes were bloodshot and raw from nights without sleep, her face a haggard mask of grief. I splashed cold water on my face, then used a towel to wipe away the tear tracks. 【Of course. She knows the truth and she’s still going to silently accept it. I’m so pissed.】 【Well, yeah, she’s madly in love with him. She probably heard him say he’ll still marry her when he gets back and decided to just swallow her pride.】 【I don’t know… I think she’s not revealing her hand just yet. I think she’s planning something big.】 I walked out of the room. Leo handed me a tissue, his face a perfect picture of concern. “Aurora, try not to be so devastated. Liam wouldn’t want to see you like this.” I looked up at his handsome, lying face. “You know,” I said softly, “what if Liam isn’t really dead?” 3 Panic flashed in Leo’s eyes for a split second before he composed himself. “H-How could that be? Aurora, they pulled his jacket and shoes from the river. You saw them yourself.” A week ago, Liam’s car had plunged off a bridge into the river late at night. The police theorized he’d escaped the car only to be swept away by the fierce current. I had waited by the riverbank all night, refusing to sleep. The rescue team searched for days, finding only his coat and one of his shoes. The news had shattered me. Today was supposed to have been our wedding day. I had spent the morning clutching our photos, crying until my head throbbed. And now, I find out it was all a show. My grief, my heartbreak—it was all just a joke to him. 【He could have learned anything, but he chose to learn how to keep a canary on the side. So disappointing.】 【I know, right? At first, I thought this was going to be a super sweet romance. I didn’t expect to be fed a spoonful of crap.】 【She’s a gorgeous, top-tier socialite. If he doesn’t want her, I’ll take her!】 The wave of nausea and sorrow that threatened to overwhelm me was soothed, just slightly, by the strange, supportive comments scrolling past. Leo continued his performance. “Aurora, don’t let your imagination run wild. If Liam could see you now, his heart would break.” His heart would break? How ironic. This morning, I was grateful to him for helping me with the funeral arrangements. Now I realized he was just another snake in the grass. 4 Following a tip from the bullet comments, I found the TikTok account of Liam’s canary. I realized with a jolt that I’d seen her before, right under my nose. She was a minor influencer signed to Liam’s own media company. Her name was Jenny. Her account handle was “JennyLovesLiam.” Her latest video was a street view of London. Two hands tightly clasped, followed by a dusty, travel-worn embrace. The small mole on the man’s hand, at the base of his thumb, was painfully familiar. The caption read: “In a year of pure love, he abandoned his arranged marriage to a socialite and crossed the world for me. The winds of A-City have finally blown all the way to London to find me.” The video had gone viral. The comments were filled with people gushing over their “epic romance.” “CEO chasing after his runaway canary, this is literally a novel coming to life! Aaaaah!” “I know this plot! It means the rich guy really loves YOU, girl! The fiancée is just a plot device to push him to chase after his true love~” “Wow, rich guys really are the most romantic. Can I get a link to your sugar daddy, please? LMAO.” The bullet comments in my vision had a different take: 【Are these commenters even real people? This isn’t some romantic novel, it’s a story about a homewrecker.】 【‘Arranged marriage,’ lol. They’re really trying to make the scumbag look good. The heroine’s original arranged marriage was with the book’s main villain!】 5 Liam and I weren’t an arranged marriage. When I met him in high school, my parents had already selected a fiancé for me: Julian Thorne, the crown prince of the powerful Thorne family. But I didn’t want to marry him. My own parents’ marriage was a loveless transaction. Growing up, I watched them play the happy couple in public, only to bring different partners home behind closed doors. The rare moments they were together were filled with endless arguments and accusations. I was sick of such a hypocritical, broken home. So, I resisted the arranged marriage with everything I had. In my junior year, Liam became the guy who sat behind me in class. When I was at my lowest, he was like a happy puppy, wagging his tail and inching closer. Saying yes when he asked me out felt like the most natural thing in the world. We went from high school sweethearts to the altar. We were the couple everyone envied, the ones who had made their fairytale romance a reality. I basked in their admiration, believing I had found my true love. I never imagined that the person I thought would never betray me had been keeping a canary all this time. In her videos, Jenny called him “hubby” in a cloyingly sweet voice. She posted “A Day in the Life with my Sugar Daddy,” and her followers begged for more. Liam would hold her, filming trendy hand-dance videos with her. His face was never fully in frame, but it was obvious he was enjoying himself. His so-called “business trips” were all trips with her. Countless nights I thought he was working late, he was actually in the arms of another woman. Once, I told him not to work so hard. He’d cupped my face and said, “I need to earn your parents’ respect. And I want to make more money to give you a wedding that everyone will envy.” Five minutes before his “accident,” Liam had sent me a text: “No matter what happens, Liam will love you forever.” I had read that message and cried every single time. Now, all of it had shattered like a soap bubble. 【He even has his excuse ready for when he comes back. He’ll say he was washed downstream, rescued by a family, and had amnesia.】 【And the crazy part is, the heroine believes him! She marries him and begins a lifetime of misery, constantly forgiving his cheating until she dies of depression. Who even writes this kind of misogynistic, old-school garbage anymore?!】 【But wait, the plot has changed now! Our girl knows the truth ahead of time! I hope she doesn’t make the same mistakes!】 6 I went downstairs. Liam’s mother was sitting on the living room sofa. When she saw me, her swollen, red-rimmed eyes shot daggers at me. “If you hadn’t been rushing my son to come back, he wouldn’t have driven off that bridge! You’re the one who killed him!” Liam had been on a “business trip.” The day after his “accident” was the day we were scheduled for our wedding dress fitting. He’d crashed on his way back to me. When I first heard the news, I had swallowed my own grief to comfort his mother. She had shoved me away. “You’re a curse! A jinx! You killed my son!” 【A blessed woman will not enter a cursed house. Heroine, get out while you still can!】 【She won’t. A few days ago, his mom called her a husband-killer and a bad omen, and she just blamed herself for everything. After being abused by this old hag, she gets abused by the ‘resurrected’ scumbag.】 Liam’s mother and I had never gotten along. He had promised me we wouldn’t live with her after we got married. But for the past few days, consumed by guilt, I had let her take all her anger out on me. But now, watching her clutch a black-and-white portrait of Liam, she just looked like a pathetic clown. A small, sharp laugh escaped my lips before I could stop it. She exploded. “What are you laughing at?” She shot up, ready to slap me. Sam rushed to intercept her. “Auntie, please calm down. Aurora is just overwhelmed with grief, her mind isn’t right. Don’t take it personally.” Leo chimed in, “Aurora, just apologize to his mother.” I walked slowly toward Liam’s mother. She must have thought I was going to grovel again, because she turned her head away in disgust. “I don’t care what you say, I’ll never forgive you. You and my son were only engaged, not married. Don’t even think about getting a cent of his inheritance.” But I just leaned in close. And whispered in her ear, “Your son got what he deserved. When are you planning on joining him, you old hag?” She clutched her chest, gasping, and fell back onto the sofa. 【HAHAHA, the old witch is having a stroke! I’m waving the flag for our girl! Let’s see who dares to mess with her now!】 【So satisfying! She’s not taking any more crap!】 The relatives in the room descended into chaos, all rushing to her side. She pointed a trembling finger at me. “She’s the one who killed my son! Leo! Sam! Call the police! Have her arrested!” 【Liam’s mom is genuinely unhinged. No wonder she raised such a scumbag son.】 【Our girl is finally fighting back! Aaaah, I’m so happy!】 【I just hope this is for real. I’m so worried she’ll fold the second he comes back…】 I let tears well up in my eyes. “Since you hate me so much, Auntie, I guess the only thing I can do is move out.” “Aurora, don’t say things you don’t mean,” Leo pleaded. “Don’t try to stop me,” I said firmly. “My being here only makes her feel worse. My decision is final.” Leo and Sam exchanged a look. This was clearly not part of their plan. Leo slipped into a corner to text Liam. 7 Liam’s reply came quickly: “My mom’s just like that. She had a hard time raising me. Tell Aurora to just let her have her way.” “But… she won’t stop yelling at her. Aurora is dead set on moving out.” “So let her move. When the time comes, I’ll just tell her to move back in, and she will.” “Okay, fine. I won’t try to convince her then.” I couldn’t hear their conversation, of course. But the bullet comments kept me informed. After I had packed up all my belongings from the bedroom, my best friend, Nina, arrived with the moving company she’d called for me. “Aurora, are you sure you’re okay?” she asked cautiously. She had seen me at my most broken over the past few days. “I’m fine,” I said, shaking my head. “Right now, I just want to find a place and move out as soon as possible.” An idea suddenly struck her. “My brother has a penthouse he hasn’t used since he moved abroad. Why don’t you stay there for a while? You can move out once you find your own place.” The bullet comments suddenly exploded. 【Our dark and broody villain is finally making his entrance! It’s a shame he doesn’t have a bigger role in the original story, but honestly, I love his character type.】 【He sent the heroine a message, and she still hasn’t replied. Blackening value +10000.】 Villain? Julian? I didn’t even have his number. The last contact I had was an old, forgotten social media account from middle school. It seemed to have been hacked; every couple of months, it would send me a suspicious-looking link. I’d always been afraid it was a virus, so I’d never clicked on them and had muted the chat. That’s why I had completely missed the message he’d sent me a week ago: “Do you need help?” The news of the search for Liam’s body had been all over A-City that night. A video of me, crying during an interview, had gone viral on TikTok. Many people had offered their condolences, sympathizing with my loss. Julian’s message had come on that day. Since I hadn’t seen it, I hadn’t replied. After a moment’s thought, I typed out a polite response: “No, but thank you.” A reply came back instantly: “Okay.” I remembered the day Liam asked me out. He’d met me in the grove of trees next to the school building. The wind was blowing fiercely. As I pushed a strand of hair from my face, I saw him. Julian. He was standing at the end of a second-floor hallway, his hands resting casually on the railing, his dark, intense eyes fixed in my direction. I looked at him. Then I looked down. And smiled at Liam. “Okay,” I said. It wasn’t until Liam kissed my cheek that I looked up again. The boy at the end of the hallway was gone. Only the branches of the trees remained, swaying violently in the wind. 8 I shook off the memory. The room was nearly empty of my things. The framed photo of Liam and me on the nightstand had been knocked over. I stepped on it with my high heel, and the glass shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. He wasn’t dead, but as of this moment, he was dead to me. As I left the house, his mother was still screaming obscenities at my back. “And don’t you dare come back! You’re not welcome to visit my son’s grave, ever!” 【This old hag is so afraid the heroine will fight her for the inheritance. As if Aurora, with her massive family fortune, would care about her scraps.】 【Is your son the emperor? Visiting his grave is a privilege now? Even a dog wouldn’t bother.】 “Auntie, that’s enough,” Sam said wearily. He and Leo walked me to the door. “Aurora, if you need anything, just let us know.” “I won’t. I just want to be alone.” “You know, you might be right,” Leo added. “Maybe Liam is still alive. The police never found a body, right? If we just wait a little longer, maybe there will be good news.” 【Liam’s afraid she’ll do something drastic after moving out, so he’s having his minions give her a sliver of hope.】 【Little does he know, our girl already knows the truth. What a trio of clowns.】 I had my own properties, but they were all rented out. I couldn’t just evict my tenants, so I took Nina up on her offer and had my things moved to the Thornes’ empty penthouse. When Nina handed me the key, I asked, “Your brother won’t be coming back suddenly, will he?” “No way. I just asked him a little while ago. He said he has no plans to return anytime soon. And even if he did, he rarely stays at that place. He usually goes back to the main family estate. You’ll be fine there.” I slept for two days straight, letting the swelling around my eyes go down. That night, Nina invited me out to a bar for a quiet drink. After a few glasses, I saw Leo and his crew. I had no desire to speak to them, so I looked away, pretending I hadn’t noticed them. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him take out his phone, snap a picture of my profile, and send it to Liam. “Hey man, ran into Aurora at a bar. Looks like she’s drowning her sorrows. Should I go over and say something?” “Yeah… I know I didn’t handle this well. She’s been through a lot.” Leo put his phone away and started walking towards me. Halfway there, another message from Liam buzzed on his phone. “Actually, never mind. Don’t bother. Let her feel the pain of losing me. When I ‘come back from the dead,’ she’ll cherish me even more, won’t she?” 9 “That’s true. You’re the expert on this stuff, man.” “Just keep an eye on her for me. Bars can be sketchy. Make sure she doesn’t get into any trouble.” The bullet comments scoffed: 【‘Make sure she doesn’t get into trouble,’ he says. LMAO. You can lie to your friends, buddy, but don’t lie to yourself.】 【Hey, rich boy, I dare you to make your fake death a real one. That would be a plot twist.】 Sam sighed wistfully. “Man, when am I going to find a girlfriend as beautiful, devoted, and rich as Aurora? I’d die for a girl like that.” Leo shot him a look. “You could always try to steal her from Liam now.” “No way. Liam would kill me when he gets back.” Over the years I was with Liam, a few of his friends had tried to hit on me privately. When he found out, he cut them off without a second thought. But that cheap possessiveness was not the same as loyalty. Just then, a notification popped up on my phone. JennyLovesLiam, whom you follow, has posted a new video. “VLOG: 23 days until my sugar daddy has to go back home. Today he took me to see the Northern Lights!” The comment section was filled with heartache. “Why does he have to go back?! Can’t he just stay with you forever?!” Jenny replied: “I’m just in it for his money and his body, lol. He’s with me for a month, then he has to go back for his arranged marriage. Time for me to find my next target~” Her followers wailed. “NOOOO, don’t be so tragic!” “I hate fiancées who don’t know their place. Go away, go away, go away!” The bullet comments in my vision were less sympathetic: 【This homewrecker acts so carefree, but she’s the one who chases him back to A-City a few weeks after he returns.】 【Yup. She pretends to be his cousin so she can move into his house and walk in and out of their marital home like she owns the place.】 【Big Rig Trucker Wang: Meet me on the interstate. We need to talk.】 I had spent the last two days binge-watching her videos. The process was like taking a small knife and slowly, methodically carving Liam out of my heart. It was painful, but effective. Grief was gradually being replaced by disgust. Now, watching their sickeningly sweet displays of affection, what I felt most was a sense of relief, like a survivor of a near-fatal disaster. You love having an audience for your happiness so much? Fine. I’ll be happy to grant that wish. I forwarded her account to a friend in the media. “I have a big story for you. Interested?”

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My dad was a cheat and a monster. My cousin led the charge to make my life a living hell at school, forcing me to drop out. The day my mom was diagnosed with terminal cancer, we held hands and walked to the roof of the tallest building in our dead-end town. The wind was howling. Mom’s voice trembled. “Maya, honey, I can’t be a burden to you…” Tears streamed down my face as I nodded and took a half-step toward the edge. But then, words scrolled across my vision, bright and impossible against the gray sky: [Don’t jump, Maya! Your mom is Clara Vance, the long-lost daughter of the billionaire Vance family!] [If you jump, it’s all over. Your mom will die, and you’ll end up in a coma. You’ll spend the rest of your life in a vegetable state in one of your uncle’s mansions…] I had to be hallucinating. A side effect of total despair. My mom and I spread our arms, ready. [Your dad took out a million-dollar life insurance policy on you both. Your deaths will make him a rich man!] I lunged, grabbing my mom’s arm and yanking her back from the ledge. “Mom!” I stared into her confused, hopeless eyes. “This roof… let’s find a different one. Another day.” 1 I couldn’t let my worthless father get a cent. I dragged my mom to the public library, the last two dollars in my pocket clutched in my fist. “Maya, what are we doing here?” she whispered, her hand gently stroking my hair. “You want to look up my… my sickness, don’t you? Honey, there’s no cure…” A lump formed in my throat, but I had no time to explain. I got on a computer, opened a browser, and typed. The first result that popped up was a news article: “Chicago billionaire family still offering $1 million reward for information on daughter, missing for forty years.” My heart hammered against my ribs. I scribbled down the phone number and logged off. I ran to the pay phone in the lobby, begging a stranger for a quarter. “Hello, my name is Maya, I’m at the downtown public library. I have information about the Vance family’s missing daughter!” I practically shouted into the receiver the moment a man answered. It was late. His voice was tired, skeptical. “Information? Kid, I’ve gotten thousands of calls from people claiming they have information.” “You’d better be sure about this…” “This time it’s real,” I insisted, my voice cracking. “If you hang up, you’ll never find her.” *And I’ll never be able to afford another phone call.* There was a pause on the other end, then a shift in his tone. “Okay. Stay right where you are. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.” For that half hour, we huddled on the library steps. The wind was cold. Mom, exhausted, fell asleep with her head on my shoulder. It was the tenth day since we’d escaped from the suffocating backwoods of Appalachia. We’d been washing dishes in greasy spoons just to eat. Mom finally collapsed from exhaustion and was rushed to the local clinic. The doctor looked at her chart, pushed his glasses up his nose, and said bluntly, “Your mother has cancer. Late stage.” My world fell apart. After paying the clinic, all I had left was two dollars. I was seventeen. How could I ever afford the treatment she needed? So I lied. I told her she was a burden. She said she wouldn’t drag me down. She said she’d jump. She didn’t know I planned to go with her. My mom grew up in those mountains, raised by my grandma to be my dad’s wife. She was never allowed to go to school. After she had me, she could never have another child. My dad, Dale, was the big man in our tiny town, but he was a joke to men from outside, the guy with “no son.” He took every ounce of that humiliation and beat it into my mother. When I tried to step in, my grandma would yank me away. “If it wasn’t for you, your mother wouldn’t be getting this beating.” When I cried, she’d scream, “Stop your blubbering and go wash your cousin Billy’s underwear!” If I didn’t, I’d get hit, too. I was always the best student in my class. My teacher said knowledge was the only way out of the mountains. But after a decade of straight A’s, I learned that good grades couldn’t save you from a punch. My uncle started the rumor: “A girl getting too smart takes the sense right out of the boys.” From then on, my cousin Billy made my life hell. He’d corner me after school. “It’s your fault I’m so dumb! You stole my brains!” The bullying got so bad I stopped going to school altogether. My dad used my tuition money to buy that million-dollar life insurance policy. I begged my mom to run away. “Mom, please,” I’d whisper at night. “Living here is worse than being dead.” She’d just shake her head, saying she was born in the mountains and would die there, that she didn’t know how to survive anywhere else. Until the day my dad brought another woman home. She was pregnant. She looked at us like we were dirt. “You expect me to marry you when you’re this broke? You’ve still got these two taking up space.” My mom swallowed her pride and served the woman, cleaned up after her. Then my dad said the words that finally broke her. “If you could’ve given me a son, I wouldn’t need a new wife. I need money. I’m marrying Maya off to old man Hemlock for a piece of his land.” My mom begged, but my dad wouldn’t budge. For the first time, she fought back, grabbing a kitchen knife. He beat her until she was bloody and unconscious. The night before he planned to take us on a “hike,” she shook me awake. “Maya… let’s run.” 2 Half an hour later, a sleek black SUV pulled up to the curb, silent and imposing. The pop-ups were back: [It’s a Rolls-Royce Cullinan! Your uncle has arrived in style, Maya!] I didn’t know the name, but the car was so polished and black it seemed to swallow the light. It made our torn, dirty clothes look even more pathetic. The door opened and a tall man in a tailored suit stepped out. His brow furrowed as his eyes swept over us, taking in our miserable state. I looked closely at his face—he had my mother’s eyes. He seemed to glow, surrounded by an invisible aura of power. It wasn’t a hallucination. It was the light at the end of a very long, dark tunnel. [It’s your youngest uncle, Julian! He’s finally seeing you alive and well, not the girl in a coma he’ll visit for the rest of his life…] So this was my uncle. “You’re the ones who called?” he asked, his voice crisp. I shook my mom awake, pushing her forward. “It’s her! This is the Vance family’s long-lost daughter you’ve been searching for!” His gaze was sharp, analytical, as he studied my mother’s weathered, frightened face. “You have no proof. What makes you so certain?” Mom was terrified. “Maya, what’s going on?” she whispered, looking from me to him. I suppressed a wave of nausea and said the only thing I could think of that would cut through his skepticism. “Proof? A DNA test will give you all the proof you need. Science doesn’t lie.” He gestured for us to get in the car. The inside was unbelievably luxurious. My mom shrank behind me, barely breathing. The man—my uncle—never stopped studying us. I could tell he didn’t want to believe that these two ragged figures were his family. At the hospital, the blood draw was quick. We waited in a conference room. What if it wasn’t her? I couldn’t even bear the thought. A doctor practically ran into the room, handing a file to my uncle. My mom instinctively took my hand, her warm palms enveloping my icy fingers. “Maya, your hands are like stones. Let me warm them up…” My uncle’s eyes flew across the page, finally landing on the bottom line: “The probability of a full sibling relationship is greater than 99.99%.” The world seemed to stop. The doctor, sensing our confusion, explained, “That means we can say with one hundred percent certainty that they are brother and sister.” A roar filled my ears. My voice shook. “Mom, did you hear that? You have a brother! You have a family! You’re going to be okay!” Mom was stiff in my arms, her face a blank mask of disbelief. Hot tears fell onto my hand. “A brother?” she whispered. My uncle covered his face, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. He hadn’t been cold; he’d been terrified. Terrified of having his hopes dashed again after forty years of searching. He dropped his hands, his face wet with tears. “Clara,” he choked out, stepping forward. “It’s me. It’s your brother, Julian. I finally found you.” He hugged his long-lost sister, laughing and crying at the same time. My mother could be loved like this. She was *supposed* to be loved like this. I had gambled everything, and I had won. We had money now. She could be saved. We didn’t have to die. Julian pulled out his phone. “I found her! It’s really her! Mom, Dad, get to the hospital. Now!” Within the hour, the room was filled with well-dressed men and elegant women, all surrounding us. 3 My whole life, my dad and grandma just called my mom “Girl.” As if she were a slave, not a person. Now, a room full of people looked at her with pure adoration. “I have a name,” Mom murmured, as if waking from a dream. “I’m not ‘Girl’ anymore?” She looked at me, her eyes shining. “Clara Vance. Isn’t that a beautiful name, Maya?” Suddenly, she grabbed my arm and pushed me in front of everyone, her voice trembling with urgency. “This is my daughter! She’s smart, a real bookworm! Can you please send her to school? She’ll be good, I promise! She won’t cause any trouble!” As soon as the words were out, she shrank back into a corner, as if she’d asked for the impossible. She was always like that, putting everyone else first. An elderly woman with silver hair and a string of pearls was helped to the front. She threw her arms around my mother, her sobs tearing through the room. “Clara! My Clara! I’ve been looking for you for so long.” This was my grandmother. It turned out my mom had three older brothers. My eldest uncle was a powerful senator. The second was the chief of surgery at a renowned hospital. And Julian, the youngest, was the CEO of the massive Vance Corporation. I took a step forward. “My mom is sick,” I said quietly. “It’s terminal. We need a lot of money for treatment.” The joyful chatter stopped. Were they already regretting finding us? “I can quit school,” I added quickly. “All the money can go to her. I’ll take care of her. I won’t be any trouble!” Mom gasped. “No, Maya! If you quit school for me, I won’t get any treatment.” My grandmother’s face, a mixture of joy and sorrow, hardened with determination. She squeezed my mother’s hand. “Don’t be silly, child! The one thing the Vance family doesn’t lack is money! We’ll get you the best doctors, the best medicine. Everything.” She took my hand. “And Maya is absolutely going to school! Now that you’re home, everything you’ve ever lost, everything you’ve ever suffered—we will make it right.” Just then, a woman in sharp high heels strode into the room, a girl my age trailing behind her. “Mother, I’m so sorry I’m late,” she said, her eyes flicking dismissively over my mom. “I heard you found my aunt?” Julian quickly made the introduction. “Pearl, this is Clara.” Pearl’s face soured. The girl next to her made no effort to hide her contempt, looking me up and down like I was something she’d scraped off her shoe. “Don’t my uncles love me anymore?” the girl wailed, bursting into loud, theatrical tears. “Now that *she’s* here, are you just going to forget about me?” Her mother, Pearl, immediately joined in, tears rolling down her perfectly made-up face. “Mother, brothers, it’s our fault. Mia and I have been in the way for too long. It’s time for us to leave and not be an eyesore.” Mia? Her name was Mia. My mom, oblivious to the drama, smiled and reached for Pearl’s hand. “Don’t say that! It must be fate. My daughter’s name is Maya!” Pearl snatched her hand back as if she’d been burned. “What?” she shrieked. “Are you suggesting my daughter should change her name for this… this trash?” “Pearl, that is enough!” my eldest uncle, the senator, boomed, his voice echoing in the silent room.

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I am the villain in a story about a runaway bride and her secret baby. My father was just about to sign over a portfolio of downtown real estate—a dowry worth five billion dollars—to my fiancé, Noah Harrison, when the words appeared in the air before me, shimmering like a heat haze. [What a fool this villainess is. In three days, the heroine is going to return from overseas with his kid. By then, she’ll lose both the man and the money.] [That’s not all. Because she humiliates the heroine, the hero is going to bankrupt her family’s company. Her father will have a stroke, her mother will lose her mind, and she’ll be handed over to a group of men hired by the hero and left for dead.] [And then, the hero will let the heroine take over the villainess’s family company. Tsk, tsk. The ultimate rags-to-riches story!] My hand shot out and snatched the portfolio transfer agreement from the table. Meeting Noah’s sharp, questioning gaze, I offered him a cool smile. “Let’s sign a prenup first. How about this: if, within the first three years of our marriage, you cheat, become violent, or are discovered to have a secret child, you’ll pay me three times the value of my dowry. And the engagement settlement is non-refundable. Deal?” 1 My knuckles were white, my grip on the transfer agreement unyielding. The warm, celebratory atmosphere of our family dinner instantly turned cold and heavy. Noah stared at me for a few seconds, a slow, unreadable smile playing on his lips. “Tessa,” he said, his voice dangerously soft. “Are you treating our marriage like a business transaction?” His parents immediately jumped in, trying to smooth things over. “Oh, Tessa, you know Noah. You two have known each other since you were children. There’s never been another woman in his life.” But the words in the air kept scrolling. [Well, that’s technically true. The hero was drugged when he had that one-night stand with the heroine. He barely remembers it himself.] [Slept with her is slept with her. The hero can only belong to the heroine! But how did the villainess guess?] [Rich girl doesn’t equal dumb girl. She’s the heiress to the Ford Corporation, after all. A little risk assessment is normal.] [Suddenly, I feel like this villainess has some game. I’m starting to worry about my girl, the heroine…] My own parents tugged at my sleeve. “Tessa, darling, we trust Noah. He’s not that kind of person.” But I didn’t let go of the agreement. Noah’s voice was laced with ice. “It seems you don’t have much faith in me, Tessa. In that case, perhaps we should postpone the engagement party.” Without another word, he turned and walked out. I watched his tall, impeccably tailored figure disappear down the long hallway before I finally allowed myself to breathe. Losing the man was one thing. Losing five billion dollars in prime Manhattan real estate? That was irreplaceable. 2 When we got home, my parents scolded me for being so reckless. Our engagement party was supposed to be in three days. The entire upper echelon of New York society was invited. The engraved invitations had already been sent. Tonight’s dinner was meant to finalize the wedding plans. A postponement now would undoubtedly start a firestorm of gossip. But compared to what was supposed to happen at that party—a lost five-year-old boy clinging to Noah’s leg and calling him “Daddy”—a little gossip was nothing. A little boy who, according to the text, was the spitting image of a young Noah Harrison. “Dad, Mom,” I said, my voice calm and steady. “You’ve met more people than I’ve had hot dinners. Tell me, how many men with Noah Harrison’s wealth and status are truly saints? Even if he was one before, that’s no guarantee for the future.” My words gave them pause. Finally, they relented. They would speak to the Harrisons in a couple of days. We would use the excuse of me feeling unwell to postpone the party for a month. A month was fine. After all, the heroine was due to arrive in three days. 3 As a gesture of apology to our esteemed guests, the engagement party was rebranded. Three days later, it became a gala celebrating the Ford Corporation’s successful bid to develop a massive new public plaza project in the city center. The same elite crowd gathered, sipping champagne and networking. The Harrisons were, of course, on the guest list. I had just stepped out of my car when a new set of words floated before my eyes. [Here we go! The first meeting between the heroine and the villainess! Can’t wait for the classic ‘hero saves the damsel’ scene.] [The cute little munchkin is here to help Mommy find Daddy!] [I wonder if the villainess will regret postponing the engagement when she sees them. She lost her only chance to lock the hero down, hahaha!] My eyes instinctively began scanning the lavish ballroom, searching for a small child. But before I could spot them, I saw Noah walking toward me. He was dressed in a sharp black suit, his presence as commanding as ever. “As you requested,” he said, his voice a low murmur. “I’ll have the prenuptial agreement notarized and sent to you as soon as possible. The engagement party will proceed as planned, one month from now.” He looked down at me, his eyes filled with a kind of playful curiosity. “But I have to admit, I’m intrigued. Who’s been giving you advice?” We may have grown up together, but I’d always known Noah Harrison was a man ruled by logic, not passion. If it hadn’t been for our parents pushing us together for years, I doubt he would have ever given me a second glance. He probably thought I was just like all the other socialites—an empty-headed debutante with a pretty face. It was only after I got my acceptance letter to Wharton that he even considered dating me. His idea of a romantic confession was a curt, “It seems I’ve underestimated you.” If there was ever a flicker of affection he felt for me in the past, it was surely gone now. He must think I’m a cold, calculating schemer. Meeting his probing gaze, I just smiled. “Who can say no to a good insurance policy?” With a fifteen-billion-dollar penalty clause and a six-billion-dollar engagement settlement at stake, I could find any man I wanted. Just then, a commotion erupted near the entrance. A young woman in a simple white dress, with a sweet, innocent face, rushed into the venue, grabbing people by the arm. “Excuse me, have you seen my son?” 4 The person she grabbed was one of my family’s security guards. He frowned, trying to escort her out. “Ma’am, this is a private event. You can’t be in here. Please leave immediately.” But the woman was on the verge of tears. “No, my son is missing! He’s only five, I have to find him! Let me in!” “Please wait by the entrance. If we find a child, we will bring him to you.” “But I’m his mother! I have to go in! Let go of me, or I’ll call the police! Ah!” In the ensuing struggle, she stumbled and fell to the marble floor, scraping her porcelain-skinned leg. It started to bleed. Instantly, a little boy shot out from behind a large floral arrangement and slammed into the security guard, knocking him off balance. “Don’t you bully my mommy!” The woman then scooped the boy into her arms, and the two of them huddled together, crying, a picture of pathetic misery. [Like master, like servant. No surprise a dog raised by her would be so aggressive!] [A grown man bullying a single mother and her child. His conscience must have been eaten by a dog.] [Just wait. When the villainess’s family goes bankrupt, we’ll see how arrogant these servants are.] Noah watched the scene unfold with a frown, then turned to me. “It seems the security at the Ford Estate is a bit lacking. And your staff’s professionalism could use some work.” Then, as if to deliberately spite me, the man famous for his icy aloofness strode forward and extended a hand to the fallen woman. “Get up. I’ll have someone take you to the hospital.” The woman stared at him for a long moment, her eyes widening as if she’d seen a ghost. Then she grabbed her son and tried to run. But the little boy’s face lit up with pure joy. “Daddy!” he shouted at Noah. “Mommy, I found Daddy!” 5 The child’s voice was clear and high, immediately drawing the attention of every guest in the vicinity. Before anyone, including Noah, could react, the woman had scooped up the boy and vanished into the night. My father materialized at my side, his face grim. “What was that all about?” he whispered. I shrugged. “I have no idea. But the kid called Noah ‘Daddy.’ See, Dad? I told you the prenup was a good idea.” Our hushed conversation drifted to the nearby guests, and the celebratory mood of the evening soured. After the party, the Harrisons came over with Noah to offer an explanation. “Tessa, there must be some misunderstanding!” Mrs. Harrison insisted. Noah’s face was a thundercloud. For the first time, he spoke to me with a hint of defensiveness. “I can’t possibly have a son. For that woman to show up now, at this exact moment… she’s clearly after something.” The floating text reappeared. [This isn’t how it’s supposed to go… Shouldn’t the hero have seen the resemblance, abandoned the villainess, and run after the heroine?] [And the villainess is way too calm. Wasn’t she supposed to fly into a jealous rage, slap the heroine, and then get pushed away by the hero?] [Don’t worry, everyone. Once the heroine starts working at the hero’s company, the plot should get back on track.] Oh? She’s going to work at Harrison Industries? I couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at Noah. “Are you… sure you don’t want to get a paternity test first? What if he really is the result of a wild night you don’t remember?” A vein pulsed in Noah’s temple. He grabbed my wrist, his grip tight. “Tessa, I don’t know who has been whispering poison in your ear, but listen to me. Other than you, I have never laid a finger on another woman. I will find her and get to the bottom of this. And then, our engagement party will proceed as planned.” Fine by me. Let’s see you get past hiring the heroine first. I gently patted his hand. “Don’t get so worked up. It’s only fifteen billion dollars. I’m sure you can afford it.” As I turned to leave, I saw Noah violently loosen his tie, looking like he was about to kick the leg off the nearest coffee table. 6 After the gala disaster, my parents stopped mentioning the engagement. Meanwhile, rumors about Noah and the Harrison family began to circulate through our social circles. When I arrived at Harrison Industries for a progress meeting on a joint venture between our companies, I could feel the weight of everyone’s knowing glances. “Did you hear? Mr. Harrison has a secret son. The mother and child caused a huge scene at the Ford Estate…” “What? The Ice Prince of Wall Street has fallen?” “I knew there was a reason they postponed the engagement… Miss Ford looks perfectly healthy to me.” “It’s Mr. Harrison who looks like a mess. He’s been in a foul mood for weeks, apparently, he has his P.I.s searching everywhere for that woman.” I was engrossed in the gossip when I saw the head of HR walking a group of new hires down the hallway outside the glass-walled conference room. The heroine was among them. She was still in all white, a picture of nervous excitement. Here for her interview? My interest piqued, I was about to step out for a closer look when I nearly collided with Noah, who looked haggard and was radiating a “do not approach” aura. He grabbed my arm. “Where are you going?” “Oh… nowhere, just saw someone I thought I knew,” I said with a breezy laugh. Noah frowned and glanced in the direction I’d been looking. The tour group had already moved on. All he saw was a handsome, broad-shouldered young man with a sunny disposition carrying two coffees our way. The young man caught our eye and gave a shy smile. Noah’s grip on my arm tightened. “You know, your eyes used to only be for me,” he said, his voice dripping with a strange, acidic tone. “What’s this? Developed a new taste recently?” “I…” I was about to tell him he was mistaken, that I was looking at the baby mama, not the pretty boy. But Noah cut me off, turning to his assistant. “Who is this person?” The assistant looked from the bewildered pretty boy to his equally bewildered boss. “I believe he’s a new recruit from our fall intake. A top graduate from Yale.” Noah scoffed. “Transfer him to the regional office in Stamford.” Then he turned back to me, his words heavy with meaning. “A word of advice, Tessa. Be careful with pretty boys. Most of them are only after your money.” I just stared at him. “???” 7 After the meeting, Noah walked with me out of the conference room. As we passed through the main office area, we saw the Yale graduate from earlier, packing his desk with a dejected look on his face. I paused, turning to Noah. “A top mind from Yale, and you’re just sending him to a satellite office? That seems like a waste. If you don’t want him, I’ll take him. He can be my new assistant at Ford.” The sound that followed was a loud smack. Noah had slammed his palm down on the partition of a nearby cubicle. He leaned in close, that same unreadable, half-smiling expression on his face. “Tessa. Our engagement is postponed. Not canceled.” Sensing the sudden drop in atmospheric pressure, every employee in the vicinity shrank behind their monitors. Only one person dared to speak. A small, timid voice. “Mr. Harrison… my files…” I glanced down and my eyebrows shot up. What a coincidence. Noah had chosen, of all the desks in this vast office, the new desk of the heroine. And his hand was currently planted firmly on top of her paperwork. He followed my gaze, and his face instantly darkened. He barked at his assistant, “What is she doing here?” The assistant looked and his own face went pale. “She must be one of the new hires who started today…” The text in front of my eyes went wild. [Aaaah, here it is! Go on, hero! Be brave! Break off the engagement with the villainess and bring our heroine and her little angel home!] [Something feels off… Why is the hero looking at the heroine like he wants to murder her?] [Oh, relax! That’s just how enemies-to-lovers stories start~] [But he really looks like he’s jealous over that Yale guy right now…] [Can I just say, this villainess has way too much screen time. Can she just get lost already?] At that moment, the heroine—Ava—looked up and saw Noah’s face. All the color drained from hers. She scrambled to her feet to run, but in her panic, she tripped over her own chair and fell, landing in a heap right at my feet. I instinctively took a step back. Was this some kind of insurance scam? She looked helpless, trying to push herself up, her voice choked with tears. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know this was your company, I’ll leave right now…” But Noah grabbed her arm. “Wait. You’re not going anywhere until you explain yourself.” The woman looked back at him, tears welling in her eyes, a mixture of fear and what looked like wounded pride. She struggled weakly against his grip. “I… I have nothing to say…” Noah let out a cold laugh. “The Ford Estate is on a private mountain road. You can’t get up there without a car, and there are guards at the main gate. How did you get in? And the child—where did you hire him?” She just stared at him, biting her lip, refusing to speak. Just then, the little boy came running out from behind a pillar, launching himself at Noah’s leg and beating it with his tiny fists. “Bad Daddy! You’re bullying Mommy for that bad woman! You don’t deserve to be my daddy!” This time, in the bright office lights, we all got a clear look at the boy’s face. There was no denying it. He was a miniature Noah Harrison. Even Noah, usually so composed, had a flicker of doubt cross his face. 8 The last time we’d seen the boy, he was wearing a baseball cap and it was dark. This time, there was no ambiguity. A ripple of whispers went through the office. “Oh my god, the resemblance is uncanny…” “Even if he’s not his son, he has to be a relative, right?” “I told you, where there’s smoke, there’s fire… and the woman is very pretty. Maybe the boss really did have a thing with her.” Noah’s face was grim as he escorted them both back to his family’s town car. I tried to slip away, but he wrapped an arm around my waist and guided me into the car with them. “We are going to settle this today, in front of both our families.” My parents, having heard about the commotion, were already on their way to the Harrison residence. In the car, the woman—who said her name was Ava Miller and her son was Nicky—admitted the boy was hers, but she refused to name the father. She claimed she only took the job at Harrison Industries to provide a better life for her son and had no other intentions. As for the boy… she said he’d snuck out of his daycare because he was worried his mommy would get bullied at her new job. The child, his neck stiff with defiance, glared at me. “It’s a good thing I came, or my mommy would have been eaten alive by a mean woman like you! My mommy is the kindest, most innocent person in the world, and I have to protect her!” I just stared back. “???” At the Harrison’s Park Avenue penthouse, Ava stood protectively in front of her son, enduring the scrutiny of our assembled families. After a long, tense silence, Mrs. Harrison spoke, her voice strained. “Noah. Are you absolutely certain you don’t know her?” Mr. Harrison was on the phone, pacing. A video of the office confrontation, filmed by an employee, was already going viral online. The comments were brutal, painting a picture of a callous billionaire knocking up a common girl and refusing to take responsibility. Someone had even made a side-by-side comparison of Noah’s childhood photos and Nicky’s face. The resemblance was damning. The text floated lazily in front of me. [My poor babies, being stared at like animals in a zoo. Why isn’t the hero protecting his wife?] [Don’t you see the villainess sitting right next to him? If he defends the heroine now, the villainess will go crazy and plot even worse things against her. He’s obviously weighing his options.] [I don’t know… are we watching the same show? He doesn’t look like he wants to protect her. He looks like he wants to strangle her…] I glanced over at Noah. His face was a mask of thunderous rage. “Mom,” he gritted out, “you don’t believe me either?” Finally, I spoke, breaking the suffocating silence. “Mrs. Harrison, this seems pretty simple to me. Just get a paternity test. If the boy is his, I’ll call off the wedding.” 9 “Tessa, don’t you dare!” Noah looked like he was about to explode. I pointed at the boy, my expression one of pure innocence. “I mean, look at that face. Are you honestly telling me you don’t see any family resemblance?” Noah’s jaw tightened, and he sank back into his seat, fuming. Just as the standoff reached its peak, Ava suddenly dropped to her knees with a thud, pulling Nicky down with her onto the cold marble floor. “I’m so sorry,” she cried, her voice breaking. “I never should have disturbed your peaceful lives! It’s all my fault. If only… if only I hadn’t given birth to him!” With that, she grabbed Nicky and, to everyone’s horror, began slapping the little boy’s face, her hand striking his soft cheeks again and again. “I told you not to call random men Daddy! I told you! Apologize to the nice lady and gentleman! Apologize right now! If you don’t, then you can just forget you ever had a mother! I don’t want a disobedient child like you!” Nicky was stunned into silence, then began to wail, tears streaming down his already reddening face. He clung to his mother’s sleeve, sobbing, “I’m sorry, Mommy, I’m sorry, Nicky’s sorry…” “What are you sorry for?!” Ava shrieked, not satisfied. She grabbed his ear and twisted, eliciting a sharp scream from the boy. The scene was agonizing to watch. Even Noah, who had been the most hostile towards them, winced, a flicker of pity in his eyes. Mrs. Harrison started to reach for the child, but she glanced at me and hesitated. I could see Nicky’s little ear turning purple. It was about to start bleeding. That was it. I shot forward, grabbing Ava’s wrist and pulling the trembling child into my arms. “That’s enough, Miss Miller,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “Don’t you think you’ve gone a little too far?”

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Not long after Amy, his one true love, left the country, Julian Reed asked me out. My friends teased me, “After all this time, he finally realized the right person was right here beside him all along.” He said nothing. I walked on eggshells by his side, believing that a true heart could win a true heart in return. That illusion shattered the day he stood me up on my own birthday to pick Amy up from the airport. A friend of his asked him, “You chose Vivian, so why can’t you get over Amy?” His answer: “A will always be A. But B… B could be anyone.” That’s when I finally understood. It was time for me to leave. 1 We had been together for three years when Julian finally made us official on his social media. For my twenty-second birthday, he invited all our friends, promising to throw me the party of a lifetime. I was so touched, so certain that my devotion had finally paid off. I never imagined he would just… not show up. By seven in the evening, the villa was buzzing with guests, but there was still no sign of Julian. People started crowding around me, their patience wearing thin. “Vivian, where the hell is Julian?” I clutched my phone, my voice trembling as I fumbled for an excuse. “Something urgent came up. He couldn’t make it.” The truth was, I hadn’t been able to reach him for over an hour. “But he’s made all the arrangements, so please, eat, drink, and have a good time,” I added, forcing a smile. I knew most of them weren’t here for me, but I had to hold it together, playing the gracious host. Suddenly, a sneer cut through the chatter. “Look at her, playing the lady of the manor.” Another voice, louder this time, erupted in laughter. “I guess we know what’s so important. The great Julian Reed is at the airport picking up Amy!” The name hit me like a physical blow. I froze, and the wine glass in my hand slipped, shattering on the floor. The speaker was a woman named Sienna, one of Amy’s best friends. Her announcement had captured everyone’s attention. She held up her phone, waving it with a smug pride. “Amy just texted me. She’s back in the country on vacation.” I knelt to pick up the broken glass, a sharp edge slicing into my finger. Sienna sauntered over, her hips swaying, and looked down at me with disdain. “Well, well. The queen has returned. Someone must be panicking.” She let out a little laugh. “Then again, everyone knows how crazy Julian was about Amy back in high school. It was epic.” I kept my head down, saying nothing. How could I not know? I’d been watching him from the shadows since I was twelve. Seeing she wasn’t getting a rise out of me, Sienna lost interest. “This party is a bore anyway. I’m out of here.” She started for the door, then paused as if remembering something. She turned back, a malicious grin spreading across her face. “Oh, and I almost forgot to tell everyone! Julian’s throwing a welcome home party for Amy tomorrow. It’s at… Rosewood Estate.” She deliberately drew out the last two words, letting them hang in the air. Rosewood Estate. The manor Julian had designed himself when he was eighteen, built exclusively for Amy. He’d planted an entire garden of red roses, her favorite. After she went abroad, he locked the place up, forbidding anyone from setting foot inside. This villa, where my sad little party was being held, was just a temporary rental. It was May, and the climbing briars on the garden walls were in full, glorious bloom. Sienna plucked one, tossed it to the ground, and deliberately crushed it into the mud with her stiletto heel. She looked pointedly at me. “A climbing briar, clinging just to survive. It can never compare to a real rose, standing tall on its own.” A wave of snickers rippled through the remaining guests. I followed her to the door, the hostess smile still plastered on my face. “I’m sorry the party wasn’t to your liking. Have a safe trip home, Sienna.” She just rolled her eyes. “Trash will always be trash. You can’t polish a turd.” The show was over. One by one, the rest of them filed out, leaving me in the echoing silence. 2 I watched them go, and the strength drained from my body so fast I almost collapsed right there on the floor. A pair of hands caught me, steadying me. A man frowned, his face etched with worry. I turned to see Leo. I managed a weak smile. “You’re still here?” He scratched his head, his eyes darting away. “Uh, yeah. I got a call earlier. Julian said something came up and asked me to help you with the guests. What happened? Where did everyone go?” I’d known him for over a decade. He was a terrible liar. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “You don’t have to cover for him, Leo. I know he went to find Amy.” His face flushed with embarrassment. “It’s not like that! Julian knows what he’s doing. I’m sure he has a good reason. Don’t overthink it.” He tried to comfort me. “You two were childhood sweethearts. A decade of history isn’t something just anyone can compete with.” A sour ache bloomed in my chest. Among all of Julian’s friends, Leo was probably the only one who saw us that way. The truth was, Julian and I were from two different worlds. When I was ten, my father left my mother and me for another woman. Not long after, my mother dropped me at the gates of a group home and never looked back. I was quiet and timid, an easy target for the other kids. The Reeds were philanthropists. One day, Mr. and Mrs. Reed brought Julian to the home to hand out donations. All the other children swarmed them for gifts. I was hiding in a corner, crying because someone had taken scissors to my hair. The director told them I was withdrawn and couldn’t make friends. That’s when Julian walked over. He pressed a handful of candy into my palm and smiled. “Have some candy. Please don’t cry, okay?” After that, he visited often, sometimes bringing his best friend, Leo. We became close. Eventually, the Reeds decided to sponsor my education and took me into their home. From twelve to seventeen, I was Julian’s shadow. At school, some kids mocked me, calling me his “personal servant.” Julian responded by kicking over their desk, his face cold with anger. “Vivian is like a sister to me,” he warned them. “Don’t ever talk about her like that again, or you’ll deal with me every single time.” His protection warmed me, but the word “sister” was a small, sharp sting of disappointment. Then, in our sophomore year of high school, Amy transferred to our school. She was like a princess from a fairy tale, exquisitely beautiful. Every boy in school fell over themselves trying to get her attention. Only Julian remained unimpressed. Leo teased him about his high standards. Julian just shrugged, a casual smile on his face. “When I’ve got Vivi around, why would I look at anyone else?” I knew he was joking, but I felt my heart skip a beat anyway. On the first day of the second semester, during evening study hall, he came to find me. He slid into the seat beside me, his eyes gleaming with a mysterious excitement. “I have something really important to tell you.” His intense gaze made my stomach flutter. “What is it?” He leaned in close, his voice a conspiratorial whisper in my ear. “I’m going to ask Amy out.” My head snapped toward him. His eyes were shining, so bright, but I couldn’t see my own reflection in them. He launched into an enthusiastic story about how they’d met over winter break and how he’d been completely captivated by her. I sat there, frozen, my eyes glued to the open English vocabulary book on my desk. I was terrified that if I said a single word, the overwhelming sadness would spill from my eyes. Finally, he asked, “Vivi, you’re in the same class as her. You’ll help me, right?” I heard myself give a tiny, almost inaudible, “Mmm.” He glanced across the room at the girl of his dreams, surrounded by her usual circle of admirers, and left with a satisfied smile. For the rest of that study hall, my vocabulary book remained on the same page. “Abandon…” The first word on the first line of the first page. I repeated it to myself a thousand times. I hadn’t even realized it, but my love for him had already grown wild and untamable, like weeds choking a garden. 3 I buried my feelings deep and played my part perfectly, becoming his dutiful messenger, delivering love letters, gifts, and whispered messages. Julian dreamed of being an architect, and his first project was the manor he designed for Amy. She loved red roses, so he planted an entire garden for her with his own two hands. That June, with the roses in full bloom, he confessed his feelings to his princess with a heart full of devotion. She turned him down. She told him her heart already belonged to someone else, and that she would be joining him abroad soon. That night, Julian sat in the rose garden and drank himself into a stupor. I stayed with him all night, and for the first time, I saw him cry. He was so completely, devastatingly in love with her. We were so much alike, he and I. Both trapped in a hopeless, unrequited love. We ended up at the same university. He never mentioned Amy again. Then, on Valentine’s Day, he suddenly asked me, “Vivi, do you want to try being with me?” I’d just seen a picture Amy posted on social media—a picture of her kissing her boyfriend, their hands intertwined. A dull ache throbbed in my chest, but I still nodded and said, “Okay.” Looking back, it was the least romantic proposal in history. But back then, he was my entire world. Even if the path ahead led off a cliff, I would have willingly jumped with him. We only told Leo we were together. He clapped Julian on the back, grinning. “After all this running around, you finally realized the right person was here all along.” Julian didn’t respond. I knew he needed time. And I was willing to wait. For four years of college, I stayed by his side, loving him with everything I had. And slowly, he started to care. On our third anniversary, he posted a photo of us on his social media. Our fingers were laced together; we looked like a couple truly in love. I thought I had finally won his heart. I never realized it was all just a beautiful dream. Julian didn’t come home that night. The next morning, as I was heading to campus, I saw a crowd gathered at the main gate. As soon as they saw me, someone called out, “Vivian, someone’s here for you.” I pushed through the crowd and saw her. Leaning against a Harley, a stranger with striking, androgynous features, long hair spilling over her shoulders. She was so beautiful it was almost confusing. She looked up at me and smiled, an intoxicating mix of lazy and sexy that made my heart race for no reason. “You’re Vivian, right? I came here looking for you.” I eyed her suspiciously. “Can I help you?” She walked toward me, and I caught the scent of violets, unique and captivating. “My name is Violet Yang. I’m a fashion designer, and I’d like you to be my model.” She explained that she’d seen my photo at a friend’s place and believed my look and presence were the perfect match for her new collection. So she flew all the way from London to find me. I was flattered, but years of self-doubt made me want to retreat instantly. Violet, however, was completely certain. “I trust my instincts.” Seeing my hesitation, she gave me her contact information and told me to take my time thinking it over. We agreed I’d give her an answer in three days. Then, she swung her leg over the bike and rode off, disappearing as coolly as she’d arrived. I didn’t know it then, but meeting her would change the entire course of my life. 4 The next time I saw Julian was the day after Amy’s welcome party. I was heading to the library with my laptop to work on my thesis when I ran into him right outside my dorm. Our eyes met, and an awkward tension immediately filled the air. “Fancy seeing you here,” I said, the greeting clumsy on my tongue. Julian lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and frowned. “I was waiting for you.” He hadn’t smoked in a long time. The last time I’d seen him like this was after Amy rejected him. I lowered my gaze. “You could have just called.” He paused. “Are you free? Let’s get something to eat.” I nodded. “Okay.” The drive was silent, the atmosphere as stiff and uncomfortable as if we were two strangers on a first date. Julian was the first to break the silence. “I’m sorry I missed your birthday.” I hadn’t expected him to bring it up. Before I could even process what to say, I heard myself reply flatly, “It’s okay.” A small, faint smile touched his lips. I cursed myself internally. No matter what he did, the smallest gesture of kindness from him was enough to make me forgive everything. I hated that I loved him this much, that I was this powerless. He drove me to the restaurant where he’d first asked me out. The waiter brought out a delicate cake and a bouquet of briar roses. He carefully cut a slice and placed it in front of me. “It was wrong of me to bail on you like that,” he said, his tone apologetic. “I wanted to make it up to you today.” I had no backbone when it came to him. Just knowing he still had me in his thoughts was enough to make the corners of my mouth turn up in a smile. “But this has nothing to do with Amy,” he added. Hearing her name, my smile froze. He continued, “Vivi, I need you to turn down Violet Yang’s offer.” I didn’t understand the connection, or how he even knew about Violet. I just stared at him, confused. “Why?” “Because that opportunity was supposed to be Amy’s.” That’s what he said. Julian explained that Violet had only found me because she saw the anniversary picture he’d posted on Amy’s phone. The fashion show was a major event for emerging designers. Winning the top prize meant securing funding to launch your own brand. Violet was the frontrunner, and being her model was a golden opportunity. “So, she sent you?” I asked. “Of course not!” he said quickly. “She’s just too kind. She was obviously upset, but she still told me to congratulate you for her.” I didn’t say anything. Just like in high school, once he started talking about Amy, he couldn’t stop. “She wants to be a model, and I have a hundred ways to help her. But she’s stubborn, you know? She hates relying on anyone.” He sounded like he was scolding her, but his eyes were filled with pure admiration. I looked down and shoveled a spoonful of cake into my mouth. It tasted sickeningly sweet, almost bitter. “Won’t she be angry if you do this?” I asked. He smiled confidently. “She won’t be, as long as she doesn’t find out. Just come up with a good excuse when you turn Violet down. Don’t blow our cover.” I met his gaze, my heart aching. “But doing this will make me unhappy.” Julian looked stunned. “You? You can barely get through a class presentation without shaking. Since when are you interested in a fashion show?” “I want to try,” I said, a strange defiance bubbling up inside me. I wanted to know if I was really as good as Violet seemed to think I was. His patience snapped. His voice turned cold. “Vivian, this isn’t a discussion. Take a good look at yourself. In what world do you think you can compete with Amy? Why are you trying to punch so far above your weight?” All the hurt and humiliation finally boiled over. Tears welled in my eyes. “Your heart and your mind are completely filled with Amy, but I’m your girlfriend right now!” Julian avoided my eyes, muttering, “She’s different.” “How is she different?” He frowned, his gaze flickering. “Do I really have to spell it out for you?” My heart shattered into a million pieces. I didn’t care anymore. “You love her, so why are you demanding that I make sacrifices for her?” He lost his temper. The words flew out of his mouth before he could stop them. “Because everything you have—everything—is because of my family!”

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The call came just as I was wiping down the marble countertop of the patisserie, the scent of sugar and browned butter clinging to the air. “Hello? Where are the fifty strawberry chiffon cakes I ordered?” The voice was sharp, laced with an impatience that set my teeth on edge. I frowned, my mind instantly scrolling through the day’s orders. A fifty-cake order? I’d remember that. It would have been half my day. After a quick double-check of our system, I confirmed my suspicion. Nothing. “Ma’am, I’m so sorry, but we don’t seem to have an order under that description. Is it possible you called a different bakery?” The line went silent for a beat, then a click. She’d hung up. I shrugged it off. A simple mistake. Ten minutes later, the same number flashed on the caller ID. “What is wrong with you people? I just called to chase my order. Are you stupid?” This time, before I could even form a response, she hung up again. The final call came just as I was about to lock up for the evening. “Are you trying to go out of business? You took my money. Where is my product?” I pressed my fingers to my temples, forcing down a wave of exhaustion and anger. I took a slow, calming breath. “Ma’am,” I said, my voice measured. “Could you please send me a screenshot of your order confirmation? I’d be happy to sort this out for you.” “What did you just say to me?” Her voice pitched into a shriek. “Are you calling me a liar?” Later that evening, an email landed in my inbox from the corporate head office. A formal complaint had been filed against me. The reason: Moral turpitude. Seducing a married man. 1 My head was spinning with rage. The call from my regional manager, a man whose voice dripped with condescending, father-knows-best bullshit, did nothing to help. “Clara, look, I’m not trying to tell you how to live your life,” he’d said, “but you’re a young woman. You need to focus on hard work, not take shortcuts.” “What are you talking about? Shortcuts?” “I’ve smoothed this over for now,” he continued, ignoring my question. “Just make sure it doesn’t happen again.” The moment I hung up, the bell on the shop door chimed violently as it was shoved open. A woman, impeccably dressed in a style that screamed ‘I have more money than taste,’ stormed in. She pointed a perfectly manicured finger directly at me. “It’s you, isn’t it?” she spat. “Store manager at your age. Who’d you have to sleep with to get this job?” Only a few customers were lingering, finishing their evening coffee. The air crackled with tension. I took a deep breath, fighting to keep my composure. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Do you have any proof for these accusations? Because without it, this is slander, and I am well within my rights to call the police.” She didn’t flinch. Instead, she threw her head back and laughed, a shrill, ugly sound. It was as if I’d told the funniest joke in the world. Her heels clicked menacingly on the tile floor as she advanced on me. With a single, fluid motion, she swept an entire tray of our signature macarons off the display counter. They scattered across the floor like shattered jewels. My youngest employee, a sweet girl fresh out of high school, gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. The woman was still yelling. “The police? Go on, call them! You think you have the right after the disgusting things you’ve done?” She leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial hiss, loud enough for the whole shop to hear. “I get it. Girls like you, from nothing, you have to claw your way up. You see a rich man and you latch on.” Her eyes narrowed into slits. “But you don’t touch my man. He is not for trash like you to even look at.” Her voice, sharp and piercing, had drawn a small crowd of onlookers who were now peering in through the front window. I felt my cheeks burn. “Who is your man?” I asked, my voice tight. “And who the hell are you?” “Still playing dumb!” she shrieked, her face contorting with rage. She cast a proprietary, bitter glance around my beautiful shop—the shop I had poured my life into. “The man who owns this entire bakery franchise is my father. You’re asking me who I am?” She turned to her audience. “Everyone, come and see! This slut is trying to sleep her way to the top by seducing a married man, and now she has the nerve to give me attitude!” Her dad? A vein throbbed in my temple. This bakery, Sweet Blooms Patisserie, was a well-known national chain. I’d paid a two-million-dollar franchise fee, every cent from my own accounts, to open this location. And I knew the founder of the company personally. He didn’t have a daughter. The woman was relentless. “My husband came in the other day to buy me some macarons. He told me how you were batting your eyelashes at him, how you made sure to touch his hand when you gave him his change. You whore.” I stared at her like she was insane. Her long, glittering nails were inches from my face. And then, I laughed. A real, genuine laugh. The sound of it startled her into silence. Even the onlookers outside seemed to hold their breath. “I have no idea who your husband is,” I said, my voice steady now. “But by all means, have him come here. I’d love to have a chat with him, face to face.” “Have him come here?” She smirked, a triumphant, ‘I-knew-it’ expression spreading across her face. “So you can try to seduce him again, right in front of me? I’m not that stupid.” I was fighting a losing battle against the fury boiling inside me. “This shop is mine. I paid the two-million-dollar franchise fee in full. Even if you were the founder’s daughter, you have no right to come in here and spread these lies.” “Two million?” She made a sound of disgust. “Please.” She looked me up and down with utter contempt. “Where did a girl like you get two million dollars? On your knees?” A few snickers erupted from the crowd outside. My young employee, her face bright red, stepped forward. “That’s not true! Our manager isn’t like that at all, she…” The woman cut her off with a wave of her hand. “Oh, look, she’s brainwashed the little helper. Or is everyone who works in this store a cheap tramp?” That was it. My composure, stretched thin for so long, finally snapped. I slammed my palm down on the marble counter. “Shut your mouth.” 2 The sharp crack echoed through the shop, silencing everything. Even the faces peering through the window went still. I fixed my eyes on the woman. “You’d better have evidence for every single thing you just said,” I said, my voice low and cold. “Because when I call the police, and I will, you’re going to be in a lot of trouble.” I pulled out my phone and dialed the first two digits of 911, making sure she could see. Her eyes widened slightly. With a swift movement, she knocked the phone out of my hand. It clattered to the floor. She hadn’t expected me to actually do it. She grit her teeth, her carefully constructed outrage faltering. “This isn’t over,” she hissed, before turning on her heel and storming out of the shop. The drama, for now, was over. My employee rushed to my side. “Clara, are you okay?” “I’m fine,” I said, my heart still hammering against my ribs. I took a few deep breaths to steady myself. I thought that would be the end of it. But the next day, a man in a tailored suit walked into the shop. It was Ethan. A guy I knew from high school. He apologized profusely, his expression pained and helpless. It was only then that I understood. He was the husband. The one who’d supposedly bought macarons. Except, I hadn’t even been the one to serve him. Ethan’s apology was so sincere it was almost a plea. “Clara, please, can we just let this go? Mimi… she’s just been spoiled by her family her whole life. She doesn’t mean any harm.” He wrung his hands. “And besides, no real harm was done, right? You’re running a business. It’s always better to keep the peace.” His words sat badly in my stomach, a sour mix of condescension and cowardice. But I was tired of the drama. I just wanted it to be over. As he said, keep the peace. As long as this Mimi woman stayed away from me and my shop, I was willing to let it drop. Just when I thought it was settled, Ethan, who had already left, reappeared in the doorway. He looked deeply uncomfortable, his eyes refusing to meet mine. “Clara, can you just… can you just tell my wife that we barely know each other?” That’s when I noticed his phone was still active, propped up in his hand. A video call. I shot him an incredulous look before turning my attention to the phone. “That’s right,” I said, my voice flat. “I don’t know him.” Ethan let out a visible sigh of relief. But his relief was short-lived. A shrill voice erupted from the phone’s speaker. It was her. Mimi. “Then why are you meeting with him? There’s no such thing as a ‘platonic friendship’ between a man and a woman!” Ethan sighed heavily, turning his back to me and lowering his voice. “Honey, I promise, there is nothing between us. In every way that matters—family, looks, status—she can’t hold a candle to you.” That was the compliment that finally seemed to soothe her. But his words were like acid in my ears. I looked at the smug, triumphant face of Mimi on the screen, then at the spineless man standing in front of me, debasing me to pacify his unhinged wife. Suddenly, all my attempts at taking the high road felt like a joke. “Ethan.” The smile was gone from my face. “Whatever is going on between you two is your business. But you don’t get to placate her by insulting me. It shows a stunning lack of class.” Ethan’s face turned a blotchy, furious red. His eyes were filled with resentment, but he didn’t say a word. Mimi, on the other hand, exploded. “You bitch! You’re flirting with him right in front of my face!” Her tirade then shifted to her husband. “And you, Ethan! Did I give you permission to see her? How dare you go behind my back!” Ethan was a man who cared deeply about appearances. I could see the profound humiliation washing over him. He looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. Unable to stand up to Mimi, he redirected his anger at the only person he could: me. “Clara, my wife doesn’t like you,” he said, his voice stiff. “From now on, if we see each other, we’re strangers.” Hearing her husband defend her so staunchly, Mimi’s voice on the phone became sickeningly sweet with victory. She decided to push her advantage. “Clara, is it? I’m a kind person, really. I don’t want you to lose your job over this.” Her tone was pure condescension. “So here’s what’s going to happen. To put my mind at ease, you’re going to come to my house.” She paused for dramatic effect. “I’m going to personally install monitoring software on your phone. And you’re going to give me administrative access to the security cameras in your bakery.” 3 I thought I had misheard. Naturally, I refused. I was done with this conversation. I was done with them. I pointed a trembling finger at the door. “Get. Out.” Ethan’s face was a mask of fury. He shot me a hateful look, clutched his phone, and walked out. Even from outside, I could hear Mimi’s voice, relentless and shrill. “No, that’s not good enough! She didn’t agree! I need to be able to watch her!” “You need to order her to come to the house right now! I have to inspect her phone!” Ethan’s low, placating murmurs faded as they walked away. … I let out a long, shaky breath. My young employee came over, her eyes wide with worry. “Clara… they don’t seem like the type to give up.” “I know,” I said, my mind already racing. Sure enough, three days later, Mimi returned. She was clinging to Ethan’s arm, and behind them trailed a small group of men. I recognized one of them instantly: Mr. Davies, the regional manager from corporate. Davies, a portly man with a perpetually sweaty brow, didn’t waste any time. He pointed a fat finger at me and started shouting. “What is wrong with you? First, you’re taking money from customers and not providing the product, and now you’re seducing them? Clara, you’re destroying the reputation of our brand!” I didn’t argue. I calmly turned to my terminal, pulled up the transaction logs from the banking system for the entire week, and printed them out. “As you can see,” I said, sliding the paper across the counter, “the fifty-cake order Mrs. Pierce mentioned never existed. So there was no ‘taking money and not providing product.’ What I’m more concerned about is why corporate headquarters would convict one of its franchisees based on an unsubstantiated complaint. It makes me question your entire management protocol.” Mr. Davies didn’t even glance at the records. He slammed his hand on the counter. “Are you talking back to me? When I say you’re wrong, you’re wrong!” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial roar. “Do you have any idea who Mrs. Pierce is? She’s the daughter of the President of our parent company! You think you can afford to cross her?” He was practically spraying spittle in my face. Beside him, Mimi’s chin was so high in the air it was a wonder she didn’t lose her balance. Ethan stood slightly behind her, watching the scene unfold with a cold detachment. There was a flicker of pity in his eyes—the kind of pity reserved for the gods on Olympus looking down on the squabbles of mortals. I almost smiled. The President of the parent company had only one child—my childhood best friend. The entire reason I chose to franchise with this brand was because our families were so close. Could it be? Did Uncle David have a secret daughter I never knew about? Mimi let out a derisive snort, snapping me back to the present. She tapped my forehead with a long, sharp, bejeweled nail. “Did you hear that? My father owns the whole company. You’re just a cheap whore who sells her body for money. How dare you argue?” Ethan stepped forward then, his face a mask of patronizing concern. “Clara, I know you’ve worked hard to get where you are. Just apologize to Mimi. Beg for her forgiveness. It’s the easiest way.” I ignored him, my gaze fixed on Mimi. “You’re certain your father is the President of the parent company?” “What a stupid question. Of course I know who my own father is.” As if on cue, her phone rang. A man’s voice, deep and indulgent, boomed from the speaker. “My darling daughter, I heard someone was giving you trouble. Does Daddy need to step in?” Mimi shot me a triumphant glare. Before she could reply, Mr. Davies was already bowing and scraping to the phone. “Mr. Sterling, please don’t worry! I will make sure to give your daughter a satisfactory resolution.” My brow furrowed. That wasn’t Uncle David’s voice. A wave of relief washed over me. Thank God. Uncle David hadn’t made some terrible mistake. Leo would have been devastated. After the call ended, Mimi was practically glowing with smug satisfaction. She held out her hand as if bestowing a great honor. “Alright. Hand over your phone. I’m going to check it and install the monitoring software.” “You’re insane.” I didn’t give her my phone. Instead, I quickly typed out a text to Leo. [Hey, get over here. I think you have a new sister.] 4 Leo’s reply was instantaneous. A single, massive question mark. Mimi’s sharp eyes caught sight of my screen. “Oh? Already lining up your next sugar daddy?” “You should really try to clean up your vocabulary,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “When your own mind is filthy, you assume everyone else is, too.” My words had barely left my mouth when a hand cracked across my face. The slap was so hard my ears rang. Mimi stood over me, her teeth bared, her face a mask of fury. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you? A piece of trash like you has no right to be so arrogant.” She gestured to Mr. Davies. He moved immediately, locking the front door of the shop. The men she’d brought with her moved forward, forming a tight, intimidating circle around me. “Are you crazy?” I asked, backing away slowly. My assistant had called in sick today; I was completely alone. The odds were not in my favor. Mimi lifted her chin. “Go on,” she said to the men. “Strip her.” The men exchanged uneasy glances. Mr. Davies swallowed hard. For all his bluster, he was a corporate drone, not a gangster. He hesitated. “Miss… Miss Sterling… maybe this is going too far?” he stammered, shrinking back. Even Ethan looked alarmed. He leaned in and whispered to Mimi, “Mimi, let’s just teach her a lesson. We don’t need to take it this far.” “What are you afraid of?” she snapped, her eyes wild. “Anything that happens, I’ll take full responsibility.” She glared at the hesitant men, her rage growing with every second of their inaction. Finally, she lost her patience. She lunged at me herself, knocking my phone to the ground and clawing at my clothes. Luckily, I was wearing a simple tracksuit, and the fabric was durable. She tugged and pulled, but it held. I fought back, twisting away from her grasp. The next time she lunged, I sidestepped. Mimi, propelled by her own momentum, stumbled and fell hard. The room went silent. Everyone froze. Ethan rushed to her side, his face pale with panic. “Mimi, are you hurt?” He helped her to her feet, then turned to glower at me. “Clara, I thought you were smarter than this. How could you be so violent?” He cradled Mimi’s arm as if she were made of glass. “My wife is a delicate woman, raised in luxury. You couldn’t just let her be?” Mimi was a whirlwind of emotions—furious that Ethan hadn’t helped her sooner, but touched by his fierce defense of her now. Conflicted, she channeled her rage toward the easiest target: Mr. Davies. “You’re fired! Do you hear me? One word from me and you’ll be out on the street!” That threat was all it took. Mr. Davies’s face went white with fear. He shot a look at the other men, a silent, desperate command. This time, they didn’t hesitate. They grabbed me. Two of them pinned my arms behind my back, forcing me to the ground. I struggled, but it was useless. I was trapped, helpless. As Mimi raised her hand to slap me again, I gritted my teeth and shouted, “I’m the daughter of the CEO of the Rhodes Group! You touch me, and you’ll regret it.” For a brief second, everyone froze. Ethan frowned. “That’s impossible,” he said, his voice laced with doubt. “In high school, you were just a normal kid. There’s no way you’re the daughter of a billionaire.” My heart sank. My father had always insisted I maintain a low profile. To fit in at school, I’d deliberately downplayed my family’s wealth. Mimi burst out laughing. “Pathetic!” She lifted her foot and brought her sharp heel down hard on my head. A starburst of pain exploded behind my eyes. I felt a warm trickle of blood run down my temple, and the room began to swim. But Mimi wasn’t satisfied. “Hold her down!” she shrieked, pulling out her own phone and starting to record. “Get her clothes off. I want everyone to see this slut for who she really is.” The men looked torn. This was a crime. A serious one. But their fear of losing their jobs was greater than their fear of the law. They took a deep breath and reached for my jacket. Just as the fabric was about to tear, just as a wave of pure despair washed over me, the front door of the shop crashed open. Silhouetted against the bright afternoon light was a familiar, slightly stooped figure.

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