Category: English

While tidying my husband’s suit, I felt a neatly folded paper in his pocket. It was a notice from a private academy—not our daughter’s. Unfolding it, I saw the student’s name: Leo Foster. The parent’s name: Mark Foster. My husband is Mark Foster. I drove straight to the school, entered the office, and introduced myself as Leo’s parent. The teacher said, “Leo’s parents just left. They can’t be far.” I followed her direction and soon saw him: my husband, holding a little boy’s hand with one arm, the other around a strange woman’s waist, laughing softly. I called him, my voice calm. “When will you be home?” He sounded startled. “This trip might take three or four days.” I hung up, lifted my phone, and took a clear, damning photo of the three. “Mark,” I whispered. “I’m keeping this little surprise.” 01 The next day, I attended the school’s parent-teacher mixer in my capacity as a major shareholder. It didn’t take long to spot her, Lisa, working the room in a simple white dress. Her makeup was understated, her demeanor gentle and elegant. I walked straight up to her and stopped at her side. “Ms. Vance, I presume? I’ve heard so much about you. That dress is quite striking.” She turned at the sound of my voice. The instant she saw me, the color drained from her face. I smiled inwardly. This delicate flower wasn’t as innocent as she looked. Her voice was tight as she took an unconscious half-step back. “Hello… it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Just a simple greeting and she was already a bundle of nerves. So much for poise. “My husband is one of the school’s investors,” I said smoothly. “I’m here on his behalf today. I hear you’re on the PTA committee.” Her voice returned to normal, but her eyes darted nervously. “I just do what I can.” “It’s good to find the time to do something meaningful for the children,” she added. “Otherwise, being a stay-at-home mom just means your whole world revolves around your husband and kids.” Perfect. A little jab at my current “unemployed” status while burnishing her own image. I noticed her unconsciously rubbing the ring on her fourth finger. The design was identical to the one in my jewelry box at home. My tone was casual, but my words were a scalpel. “That’s a beautiful ring. It looks expensive. Is it your wedding band?” She instinctively tried to hide her hand, her expression turning to one of sheer panic. She opened her mouth, but only a choked, trembling sound came out. I didn’t expect an answer. “Your son attends school here, I take it? What grade is he in?” She answered cautiously. “The… the second grade. He’ll be eight in August.” Eight in August. I did the math in my head. What a coincidence. Nine years ago, Mark had claimed he needed to “expand the company’s regional markets” and started taking frequent, lengthy business trips. For over six months, he was home for less than two weeks total. Suddenly, it all made sense. Back then, our daughter Sophie had just been born. He was either “at a business dinner” or “on his way to one.” The rare times we spoke on the phone, it was always rushed. “You’re working so hard, honey. I’m swamped over here, can’t get away… Just do your best… hire a good nanny…” I was so afraid of distracting him from work, I shouldered everything myself, no matter how exhausted or overwhelmed I was. I always just told him, “Everything’s fine.” It turned out his “business dinners” and being “swamped” were just code for being by Lisa’s side full-time while she was pregnant. I took a slow sip of my coffee, hiding the arctic chill in my eyes. When I looked up, my polite smile was perfectly in place. “What a coincidence. My daughter is about the same age.” She forced a weak smile and said nothing. As if suddenly remembering something, I pulled a brochure from my purse. “Last week, I found this school newsletter in my husband’s briefcase. That suggestion you wrote in the back? Such lovely handwriting.” I watched the last vestiges of color drain from her cheeks. Her voice was a dry rasp. “That… that wasn’t me.” A denial. Pathetic. Seeing her reaction, I suddenly lost interest. “Oh, I must be mistaken then. It was a pleasure to meet you. I do hope you manage to keep up appearances.” I turned and walked out of the event, pulling out my phone to call my best friend, a founding partner at a top-tier law firm. “Betty, I need a favor.” The sunlight was blinding as I opened my car door. The soft purr of the engine was like a sigh marking the start of a play. My voice was as calm as still water. “Drop the case you were working on for me. I need you to draw up divorce papers.” “Yes, Mark is cheating. And I’m about to give him a gift he’ll never forget.” 02 Betty was ruthlessly efficient. Less than half a day later, an encrypted file landed in my inbox. The attached note was brief: “Take a deep breath after you read this. Call me anytime.” I locked myself in the study to get reacquainted with the man I married. I opened the first video file. It was security footage from a beach resort. Three months ago, on Children’s Day, Mark had told me he was attending a “closed-door executive retreat.” In reality, he was on a beach vacation with Lisa and Leo. They were the picture of a happy family. An abandoned stuffed animal, stepped on in the sand, was the same one he brought home as a gift for our daughter. My face was a mask as I fast-forwarded and clicked on the next file. Bank statements. Massive sums of money moved between several accounts, the cumulative total so large it made my chest ache. The final destination was a private account ending in 8741. The account holder: Lisa Vance. He’d been quietly transferring assets under the guise of “consulting fees.” Did he really think I was so stupid I’d never find out? At the bottom of the file was a scanned copy of an insurance policy. The policyholder was Mark. The insured was the boy, Leo. The beneficiary was Lisa. The policy was taken out five years ago. The premium, paid in a lump sum, matched the exact amount we’d received from mortgaging one of our investment properties. He told me at the time he was investing in a project with “incredible potential.” A chill spread from my fingertips to my heart. In that moment, I finally understood. The sharpest blades are always wielded by those you trust the most. As I stared blankly at the screen, a knock came at the door, followed by Mark’s gentle voice. “Grace? Why is the door locked?” I quickly closed the windows, took a deep breath, and composed my face into an impeccable mask before opening the door. “Just having a private chat with Betty. I locked it out of habit.” He didn’t seem suspicious. “About Children’s Day in a couple of days, I might…” I laughed coldly to myself. “Another business trip, right? Sophie’s school doesn’t have an event this year. I was planning on taking her to my mom’s for a couple of days anyway.” A look of profound relief washed over his face. “Honey, you’re so understanding.” I looked at this face, so familiar yet so alien, and my stomach churned. Understanding? Oh, yes. Understanding enough to let you have your cake and eat it too. But you have no idea just how “understanding” I can be. As I watched my husband walk away, a line from one of Betty’s audio files echoed in my mind. “…I’ve cooked the books. When we leave the country and the debts come due, the creditors will go straight to Grace…” This wasn’t just an affair. This was a calculated plot to plunder and frame me. He was no longer the earnest young man I had built an empire with from scratch. He was a wolf, feeding his other family with my blood, sweat, and tears. A predator lying in wait beside me, patiently biding his time to devour me whole. I picked up my phone and called Betty. “Change of plans. Put the divorce on hold. I want you to compile every piece of criminal evidence you can find on him first. I want him to know what it feels like to fall from the heavens and lose everything.” There was a moment of silence on the other end, followed by the soft rustle of paper. “I was hoping you’d say that. What you have is just the tip of the iceberg. Besides the fraudulent loans, he’s embezzled company funds and there are major irregularities with the corporate foundation he set up. This gives us a lot to work with, but it will take some time… He’s going to be in a world of hurt.” “And don’t worry, we’ll find out who’s been helping him. We’re already working on the company’s accounting issues.” After hanging up, I opened the photo of his “perfect family” again. My finger touched the screen, the cold glass a barrier between our worlds. 03 On Children’s Day, I drove to the private academy once again. As soon as I parked, a message from Mark popped up: [Have you made it to Grandma’s yet?] Of course. He needed to confirm my whereabouts. I emotionlessly sent him a pre-recorded video. In it, Sophie was happily jumping around her grandmother’s yard, smiling sweetly at the camera. [Daddy, we’re here! Finish your work soon so you can come play with us!] His reply was almost instant: [Okay, sweetie. Have fun.] It was followed by a sickeningly fake heart emoji. I turned off my phone, a wave of nausea rolling through me. Once trust is broken, every subsequent gesture, no matter how well-intentioned, feels like a farce. As a shareholder, I had no trouble gaining access to the school’s celebration. It didn’t take long to find them in the crowd. Lisa was clearly dressed to impress today in a new season Chanel suit, a diamond necklace glittering at her throat. The design was nearly identical to one in my safe—a piece Mark had told me was a “one-of-a-kind custom design.” Even the heels she wore were the same brand I favored, just in a different color. She was on stage, giving a speech as a representative of the PTA, her posture elegant, her voice confident and clear. Below, Mark was patiently playing a game with the boy, Leo. He was crouched on the ground, his eyes filled with a focus and gentleness I had never seen him show our daughter, carefully helping the boy keep his balance. A few parents gathered around, offering sycophantic praise. “Mr. Foster really knows how to balance work and family.” “It’s true. Ms. Vance is so capable, and Mr. Foster is such a dedicated family man. Leo is a lucky boy.” “Mr. Foster is a major shareholder, you know. I heard he just made another large donation for the library renovation.” He smiled and nodded, accepting their flattery, the picture of success. Occasionally, he would glance up at Lisa on stage, their eyes meeting in a look of deep, shared affection. A perfect family, a successful career, the admiration of his peers. He was basking in it. My fingernails dug deep into my palms. Do you remember, Mark? The winter our heat went out, and we stayed up all night, wrapped in blankets, rewriting business proposals. The time you were hospitalized with a bleeding ulcer from schmoozing investors, and I ran between home and the hospital, learning how to prepare liquid meals. The time your reckless expansion broke the company’s capital chain, and I used the house my parents gave me as collateral to keep us afloat. When our first big check came in, you held me and said, “Grace, I will never let you down.” And now, you’re using the wealth we built together to pave the way for your other family, to put on a show for your illegitimate son, donating libraries to buy yourself a reputation. Just then, the principal smilingly invited Mark to the stage. On the large screen behind him, a stunning 3D rendering of the new library appeared. He took the microphone and began to eloquently describe the design philosophy and future plans for the library, soaking in the admiration from the audience. And in that precise moment, at the absolute peak of his self-satisfaction, his smile relaxed and genuine. The doors to the auditorium were suddenly thrown open. Several uniformed police officers walked in. The entire room fell silent, every parent and teacher frozen in place. The lead officer held up his badge and a warrant. “Mark Foster, you are under investigation for embezzlement, misappropriation of funds, and the illegal transfer of marital assets. You are now required to accompany us to the station for questioning.”

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My parents’ love story was legendary in New York City. My father had three long scars on his back from saving my mother from her father’s rage. The Blackwood Spire, the city’s tallest skyscraper, was his wedding gift to her. The night I was born, fireworks lit up the sky—another gift for my mother. I was called the proof of their love. But when I turned three, a beautiful woman moved next door. She took my hand and placed it on her round belly. “I hear you’ve been sickly,” she said slyly. “Your father got tired of it. He’s giving you a brother—with me.” She added, “Your mother is useless. She can’t keep her man. You’ll have a new mom soon.” I didn’t understand everything, but I told my mother when she came home. That night, the villa next door was engulfed in fire. The woman screamed. My mother held me from behind and whispered softly in my ear: “Alan, my love… do you like Mommy’s gift?” 1 “Mommy, it’s Daddy! Daddy’s home!” I was pressed against the window, bouncing with excitement as I pointed at the man getting out of the car below. I had counted the days. It had been six months since he’d last come home. But he didn’t walk toward our door. The second he was out of the car, he sprinted straight into the blazing fire next door. Terrified, I called his phone over and over, wanting him to come back, but he never answered. After what felt like an eternity, he finally emerged from the flames, cradling the woman from that afternoon in his arms. I let out a long sigh of relief. But my mother’s face had turned to stone. At four in the morning, my father finally came home. I ran to greet him, expecting him to swing me up high like he always used to. Instead, he shoved me toward his bodyguards, ordering them to hold me. He strode past me, straight to my mother. In one swift movement, he seized her by the throat, lifting her off her feet. His voice was a blade of ice, colder than I had ever heard it. “You set that fire at Natalie’s, didn’t you?! The baby is gone! That was my child, Elena! You’re a mother yourself! How could you be so damn cruel?” “Do you know what the doctors said? If I’d been a minute later, Natalie might have… She was helpless!” My mother’s face was turning purple, but a defiant smile played on her lips. “You know I can’t stand being provoked, Robert. Especially by your little bitch. A pregnant one, at that.” “This was just an appetizer,” she rasped. “If you can’t keep your dog on a leash, I have no problem turning up the heat and cooking her alive.” His eyes were bloodshot with fury. He tightened his grip. “Do you really think I wouldn’t turn you over to the cops?” “You’d need proof for that, darling.” Before setting the fire, my mother had already had every security camera in the neighborhood wiped clean. Enraged and humiliated, my father slammed her onto the glass coffee table. The sound of shattering glass echoed through the room, but what really shattered was my family. He pulled out the thing everyone called a gun and pressed it to her temple. His voice was a low growl. “Elena, this is just how men are. We stray. Compared to guys who have a new girl every week, I’ve been good. And I promised you, the title of Mrs. Blackwood will always be yours.” “Natalie is no threat to you. Why do you have to push her into a corner?” I had seen what guns did on TV. I bit down hard on the hand of the bodyguard holding me, and when he yelped, I scrambled free and threw myself in front of my mother. “You’re wrong, Daddy! I’ll never cheat! I’ll never betray Mommy!” My father’s furious expression faltered when he saw me. He quickly pulled the gun away. My mother snatched me into her arms, and I could feel her whole body shaking violently. She must have been so scared. I hugged her tight, patting her back the way she always did for me. “It’s okay, Mommy. Don’t be scared. Alan’s here.” But her trembling only worsened. She looked up at my father, her eyes filled with a profound disappointment, and held out a set of divorce papers. “Robert Blackwood, let’s get a divorce. I get custody of Alan.” Without a second’s hesitation, he tore the papers to shreds and tossed them into the trash. “I told you when we got married. There’s no divorce for us. Only ’til death do us part.” “This time,” he said, his voice strained, “I admit it was my fault. I shouldn’t have moved Natalie in next door without telling you. I know it provoked you. So, you don’t have to apologize to her. I’ll find a way to make it up to her for you.” With that, he turned his back on us and walked out the door. Watching his resolute figure disappear, I felt a deep, cold certainty that something in our family had just broken forever. 2 I thought that after leaving like that, my father would be gone for a long time again. But the next day, when my mother picked me up from school, he was already sitting in our living room. The woman from yesterday, Natalie, stood beside him, directing movers as they carried our furniture out, piece by piece, replacing it with garish pink items my mother despised. Seeing us, my father stubbed out his cigarette and walked over, his voice heavy with exhaustion. “Elena, Natalie needs a place to recover from the… incident. She doesn’t like our furniture, so we’re replacing it. It’s old anyway. Time for a change.” He avoided her eyes. “I know you don’t like her, so I’ve booked a month-long trip for you and Alan. Go abroad, have a vacation.” But this was our home. Why was he kicking us out for a stranger? Natalie spotted us and sauntered over. She pinched my cheek, hard. “Well, well, if it isn’t the sickly little tattletale. I was going to wait until your little brother was born and make you his servant, but you just had to run your mouth to your mommy, didn’t you?” “I don’t like boys with big mouths,” she hissed. “When your daddy and I have our next baby, you won’t get a single penny of the Blackwood fortune.” The cloying scent of her perfume was so strong it made it hard to breathe. My mother saw my distress and pulled me into her arms. “Alan’s having an asthma attack! Get his medicine, now!” But as a bodyguard rushed down with my inhaler, Natalie blocked his path and dumped the entire contents of the medical kit into the trash. “I’m a doctor,” she declared smugly. “Alan doesn’t have asthma. It’s just a minor respiratory issue. He’ll be fine if he just toughs it out. No need for drugs.” My throat felt like it was being squeezed shut. It was getting harder and harder to draw a breath. Natalie looked down at me with an all-knowing smirk. “Alan, do you know why you’re so fragile, always getting sick? It’s because while your mother was pregnant with you, she was sleeping around with all sorts of men. She caught some filthy disease and passed it right on to you in her belly.” “Your mother is a whore,” she sneered. “And that makes you just as dirty. Not like me. I’m clean. I have self-respect.” But my mother only got sick because she was saving my father. It had nothing to do with other men. Had he forgotten? I looked over at him, but he just sat on the sofa, scrolling through his phone, acting as if he hadn’t heard a word. My mother finally snapped. She kicked Natalie aside with a furious shove, dug my inhaler out of the trash, and pressed it to my lips. Sweet, life-giving air flooded my lungs. Natalie’s head had hit the corner of the new coffee table, and blood was already trickling down her temple. My father, who had been ignoring everything just a second ago, was on his feet in a flash, rushing to her side. “Are you insane, Elena?” he roared at my mother. “Can’t you handle hearing a few home truths? If it weren’t for your issues, why would Alan be sick all the time? Why can’t he live like a normal kid?” “Elena, my patience with you is wearing thin. Apologize to Natalie. Now.” My mother just let out a cold, bitter laugh. She turned to me. “Alan, do you think Mommy did something wrong?” I gave her a big thumbs-up. “I’m always on your side, Mommy.” She smiled, but her eyes were glistening with unshed tears. My father’s face twisted in rage. “Look what you’ve taught him! You’re not fit to be a mother. From now on, Natalie will be in charge of raising Alan.” He grabbed me and tried to pull me over to Natalie’s side. But the suffocating cloud of her perfume was like a rope tightening around my neck. I struggled, but my father’s grip only grew stronger, more forceful. The asthma came back, worse than before. My neck felt like it was being devoured by a thousand fire ants. My legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the floor. Through the haze of pain, I heard my father’s annoyed voice. “Not this again. Alan, your Aunt Natalie already told you you’re fine. Stop faking it.” But I wasn’t faking it. I really, truly couldn’t breathe. Just before I blacked out, I saw my mother burst through them all, scoop me into her arms, and run for the door. I glanced back at the living room. My father was crouched over Natalie, his face a mask of gentle concern as he checked her injury. In that moment, a fierce, burning hatred for my father ignited within me. He had promised to love me and Mommy forever. But his forever was so short. 3 I was in the hospital for days, and my father never once came to see me. But one afternoon, when Mom was pushing my wheelchair through the halls for some fresh air, I saw him. He was in the room next to mine, tenderly caring for Natalie. I knew my mother saw him too. The corners of her eyes were wet. I reached up to wipe a tear away and buried my face in her lap. “Mommy, let’s divorce Daddy,” I whispered. “We don’t want him anymore.” She froze for a second, then gently squeezed my cheek. “Do you even know what a divorce is?” I shook my head, then nodded. “It means we don’t have to live with Daddy ever again. And then you won’t have to cry because of him anymore.” A sad smile touched her lips, and she pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Alright, Alan. Mommy will give your father one last chance. If he doesn’t change, we’ll get a divorce.” Three days later, I was discharged. It was also my birthday. My mother threw a huge party for me. Just as we were about to cut the cake, Natalie showed up. She wasn’t alone. She’d brought an entire funeral procession with her, all dressed in black. She burst into the room, wailing like a banshee. “Oh, my poor son! My poor baby! Burned alive at only four months in the womb! And the monster who did it gets to throw a birthday party for her own son without facing any punishment! Oh, the injustice of it all!” “My baby, it’s Mommy’s fault! I’m not powerful and ruthless like Mrs. Blackwood. I can’t just bend the law to get my revenge! Oh, my poor, poor child…” Her histrionics drowned out the cheerful party music. The guests, who had just been smiling and giving me presents, now stared at me and my mother with strange, unsettling looks. My mother’s face darkened. She signaled for the bodyguards to throw Natalie out. But Natalie just stroked her own belly and sneered, “Not so fast, Elena. I’m pregnant again. Robert let you off the hook for killing my last baby, but he’s already warned me about you this time. If you so much as lay a finger on me, he’ll destroy you.” “He doesn’t love you anymore, Elena,” she taunted. “Do you really think you can still throw your little tantrums and get away with it? Even if you don’t care about yourself, you should at least think about your precious son.” Her eyes flickered towards me. My mother hesitated, her hand tightening on mine. It was the little squeeze she always gave me for encouragement, so I squeezed back, hard. The storm clouds on my mother’s face suddenly cleared. She smiled, a calm, serene expression settling over her. “In that case,” she said to Natalie, “be my guest.” Seeing my mother back down, Natalie’s smirk widened. She grew bolder, marching through the room like a conquering queen. She swept all my birthday presents off the table and sent them crashing to the floor. Even my huge birthday cake was smashed in two. But just then, the grand chandelier in the center of the hall began to emit a low, ominous groaning sound. My mother’s eyes darted upwards. Natalie, however, was lost in her triumphant destruction, completely oblivious. The next second, the chandelier plummeted from the ceiling, crashing down with perfect, deadly accuracy right on top of her. A splash of crimson stained the pristine floor. My mother covered my eyes with her hand, but I could hear the smile in her voice as she spoke, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Oh, Natalie, I am so sorry. I forgot to tell you. That chandelier is rusted through. We just haven’t had time to get it repaired. It could have fallen at any moment.” In the end, Natalie was carried out on a stretcher. And I got a brand-new strawberry cake and a fresh pile of birthday presents. 4 The news of Natalie’s “accident” was all over the papers the next day. But this time, my father didn’t storm home in a rage. In fact, he started coming home more often. He never mentioned Natalie’s name again. I didn’t understand what had changed, until one night I overheard my mother talking with our head of staff in the study. “Natalie’s baby is gone, and her face is permanently disfigured. Mr. Blackwood has likely decided she’s no longer of any value to him. It seems he’s planning to return to the family, to you and the young master.” My mother stared out the window at the inky black sky. Her voice was flat. “We’ll see.” In the weeks that followed, my father came home earlier and earlier. He brought me mountains of toys and my favorite snacks. My mother’s jewelry boxes overflowed with new pieces, and her closets were bursting with designer clothes. Even my mother seemed to be thawing. I saw her smile more. One day, my father announced he was taking us to visit my grandparents. They lived far away, a long drive from the city. As we were driving over a massive bridge, my father suddenly pulled the car over. I thought he wanted to stop and enjoy the view. The next second, the car doors were yanked open. My mother and I were dragged out onto the pavement. My father’s gentle facade had vanished. His eyes were filled with a cold, murderous intent. “I told you Natalie was no threat to you, Elena,” he snarled. “But you went after her again and again. Because of you, she can never have children. Because of you, her face is ruined, she can’t even bear to be seen in public. Do you have any idea how much that has destroyed her?” “All these weeks, coming home, being nice to you and the boy… it was all an act. Just to get you to lower your guard, to get you in a car with me today without your army of bodyguards.” At his signal, his men seized me and threw me over the railing into the churning river below. As I fell, my mother lunged for me, wrapping me in a desperate embrace. Her tears, hot against my cold skin, fell on my face. I heard my father’s voice drift down from above, chillingly calm. “Don’t blame me for this, Alan. Your mother just wouldn’t listen. She was turning you against me. I just have to teach you both a little lesson.” The moment the icy water swallowed us, I think I finally understood the look in my mother’s eyes when she would sit alone in her room, staring at old photos of them together. I remembered her quiet whisper: “Times change, and people change with them.” My father’s heart was as cold and merciless as the river now consuming us. When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. My mother, wrapped in bandages, sat beside me. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying. She hugged me so tightly it hurt, whispering apologies over and over. She said it was her fault, that she had let me suffer. But Mommy, you were the one who was suffering the most. And you never once complained. That night, my mother told me to go to sleep early. She said she had some business to take care of. An uneasy feeling settled in my stomach, so I snuck out and followed her. I watched her go to the new villa my father had bought for Natalie. She and her team of bodyguards smashed everything inside to pieces before tying Natalie to a chair. It wasn’t long before my father arrived, looking frantic. The moment he saw my mother, his face became a mask of pure fury. “Elena, are you trying to drive me to my grave?” My mother just laughed, a cold, sharp sound, as she toyed with a small, gleaming dagger. “I’m simply returning the favor. Why is it that when I do it, it’s considered a death threat?” She pressed the tip of the dagger to Natalie’s throat. A thin line of red appeared. My father fell to his knees without a moment’s hesitation. “Elena, I’m begging you. Don’t hurt Natalie. She’s innocent in all this. Let her go, and I’ll do anything you ask.” “You’re doing all this for a divorce, right? Fine! I agree! We’ll get a divorce.” He immediately had someone bring him divorce papers, signed his name, and held them out to her. My mother didn’t even glance at them. She tore them to pieces. “You said it yourself, Robert. No divorce. Only death. And tonight, I’m going to kill you both!”

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The new intern, Vivian, was an expert at milking the company for all it was worth. Every day, she’d serve our department colleagues meager, 100-gram portions of food while she packed up 200 of the company’s free boxed lunches to sell to the construction crew next door. When I tried to stop her, she turned the entire office against me. “Seriously, lady? I can’t believe there are people who still sympathize with the capitalists. They exploit you, and you get off on it. You’re a total corporate bootlicker, a real slave to the system!” My own boyfriend scolded me. “Vivian’s family is struggling. She’s selling the lunches to help them out. It’s for a good cause. Why do you have to be so selfish?” My colleagues complained. “You’re so petty, Phoebe. At least when Vivian sells the lunches, it helps us lose weight. All you do is order us high-calorie afternoon snacks.” They were united against me, as if I were the villain. I was so furious I washed my hands of the whole affair. Later, at the negotiation table for a billion-dollar contract, they were so famished they started dropping like flies, one by one, right onto the conference table. 1 Something strange had been happening at the office lately. The cafeteria food was vanishing at an alarming rate. By the time I ever got there, all that was left were scraps you wouldn’t even feed to a chicken. When I asked the kitchen staff, they just stammered. “Well, Phoebe… it’s a long story…” I’d been on a business trip for two weeks. Had everyone turned into a ravenous wolf pack in my absence? As I stood there puzzled, a young woman burst into the kitchen. “Hey, Mark! You got the lunches saved for me? Let’s get them over to the site, the guys are waiting!” The construction site? I peeked behind the counter and my jaw dropped. The same head chef who’d just told me they were out of food had two hundred boxed lunches stacked neatly in the back. Each one, meant to be a free employee perk, was now being sold for twenty-five dollars a pop. So this is where all the food was going. The company provided free meals for employees, but this was on another level. They were brazenly reselling company property. I frowned, my eyes landing on the woman’s ID badge. [Marketing Intern: Vivian Shaw.] She was an intern in my own department. How did someone so shamelessly opportunistic ever get past my discerning boyfriend, Matt, who did the hiring? Watching Vivian grab a stack of boxes as if she owned the place, I stepped forward and blocked her path. “Hold on. Did no one tell you that reselling company meals is against policy?” Caught off guard, Vivian’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Against policy? I’m an employee. This is my employee meal. What’s wrong with that?” “There’s nothing wrong with an employee taking their meal. But you’ve taken far more than your share.” At that, Vivian scoffed as if I’d told the world’s worst joke. She looked me up and down with contempt. “Oh my god, lady, are you for real? I can’t believe there are people who still suck up to the corporate overlords. They exploit you, and you love it. A true corporate slave.” “And sorry, but even if you are my boss, I have to be blunt. We, Gen Z, are here to fix the workplace, not kiss corporate ass!” Her logic was completely twisted. I was stating a simple fact, and she’d slapped me with the label of a bootlicker. “Fixing the workplace doesn’t mean screwing over your colleagues,” I said, my voice firm. Our department was in the final stages of a massive project. We were all working overtime, burning the midnight oil. A tiny 100-gram serving of food wasn’t nearly enough to sustain an adult through that kind of workload. “You’re right about that,” Vivian said, rolling her eyes dramatically. “But the whole company knows I’m selling the lunches. They all agreed to it. You don’t have the authority to speak for everyone, do you?” The whole company agreed? I was stunned. Had my team lost their minds from overwork? Vivian’s smirk widened. “Everyone’s on my new diet plan. I suggest you cut back a little, too. I mean, once a woman hits thirty, it’s all downhill. And if you’re old and fat… well, no one’s going to want you, right?” As it happened, I had just celebrated my thirtieth birthday. The jab was clearly intentional. I, for one, preferred my healthy, curvy figure to the skeletal look she was promoting. Our eyes met. She stuck her tongue out playfully. “Sorry, Phoebe. I just graduated, so I’m a little blunt. Please don’t take it personally.” She had an answer for everything. Arguing with her was like punching a cloud. “The company has no obligation to let you profit off its resources,” I said, my patience wearing thin. “Vivian, either you stop this immediately, or I’m reporting you to upper management.” “You—!” Seeing that her free lunch train was about to be derailed, Vivian’s face crumpled. She covered her face with her hands and ran out, sobbing. That afternoon, the entire office was in an uproar. The first person to knock on my door was my boyfriend, Matt. Before I could even smile, he launched into a tirade. “Phoebe! Vivian’s family is poor! She’s selling those lunches to help them out and do some charity on the side. How could you be so selfish as to try and get her fired?” Fired? When had I said anything about firing her? I was baffled. All I’d done was give her a verbal warning. Even stranger was Matt’s reaction. He had never been this impulsive or hot-headed. I explained what had happened and pointed out that Vivian’s diet plan was dangerously unhealthy. Matt just laughed. “We’ve all been eating just fine for the two weeks you were gone. It’s just a few lunches. It’s not like you own the company. Why are you so worked up about it?” He lowered his voice, but I still heard his next words clearly. “I guess Vivian was right. The higher you climb, the more you turn into a good little corporate dog…” Ever since I’d been chosen over him for that business trip to the States two weeks ago, Matt’s words had been laced with a subtle venom. But I had earned that trip. In the workplace, we weren’t a couple; we were competitors. We had a huge fight, right there in my office. I’d never heard someone defend such blatant freeloading as a noble act. Vivian, doing charity? How was selling free food for a profit charity? Later, in the breakroom, I ran into some colleagues. I couldn’t help but vent. “I’m not just fighting for my own meal, you know. This isn’t healthy for any of you. Forget work, you’re going to ruin your health!” They just exchanged awkward glances. Then, one of them spoke up, her tone dripping with passive aggression. “Honestly, Phoebe, you’re being a little petty. Vivian’s diet plan is helping us lose weight. All you do is order us afternoon snacks.” What? I couldn’t believe my ears. To help them through the high-stress project, I’d been regularly treating the department to high-end afternoon tea, paying for it out of my own pocket. I’d thought it was a nice gesture. I never imagined it would be used as a weapon against me. “It’s always Starbucks or some fancy pastry. My face has gotten so puffy. Are you trying to make sure I end up single like you?” “Yeah, you make thirty grand a month, so you can afford to buy us expensive snacks. Vivian only makes three thousand, but she bought us all thirty-dollar whole-wheat bread.” “Seriously, Phoebe, you’re the one being unreasonable. We’re all worried about gaining weight from stress-eating at our desks. Vivian is actually looking out for our health. You just want to sabotage us with cake…” The complaints started pouring in from all sides. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. Every single time I ordered snacks, I asked for their preferences and dietary restrictions. They never had a problem then. They always ate with gusto. And now, they were turning it all back on me. Fine. No good deed goes unpunished. I never ate in the cafeteria anyway. If they wanted to live on a hundred grams of rice a day, they could knock themselves out. Vivian, emboldened by her success, declared she was on a mission to “disrupt the workplace” and “beat the capitalists at their own game.” Soon, every free perk the company offered was under attack. “I propose we clear out the breakroom snacks!” she announced one day, her voice ringing with righteous indignation. “They say it’s a free perk, but we all know they just deduct it from our salaries! We Gen Z will not be corporate pawns!” She was young and charismatic, and in just a few weeks, she had become the office darling. The other employees hung on her every word. So, under the guise of “sustainability,” she started taking home entire boxes of office supplies. When the company provided a watermelon for afternoon tea, others would take a slice; she’d take the entire platter. The freezer, once stocked with ice cream and cakes, was now perpetually empty. “These are all high-sugar foods that are bad for you!” she’d proclaim. “It’s a capitalist trap to make you sick so you have to spend your hard-earned money at the hospital. I’m just getting rid of them for your own good.” The nerve of this woman. She made freeloading sound like a public service. “And by ‘getting rid of them,’ you mean selling them to the construction crew next door?” I interjected, cutting through her charade. A flicker of embarrassment crossed her face, but she recovered quickly. “I’m just putting resources where they’re needed most, Phoebe. Giving them away for free would just create other problems.” “The workers need them, so I sell to them. I’m completely transparent about earning money, and I always use it to buy little gifts for my colleagues. I may be poor, but I have my pride. You don’t need to be so sarcastic. My conscience is clear!” At this, my colleagues’ eyes welled up with tears. “Thank you so much, Vivian! You’re saving us from ourselves! We’ll finally lose this awful desk-job weight!” “Vivian’s the only one who actually cares about us. The company just sees us as workhorses, but she’s looking out for our health.” “Phoebe, have you forgotten what it’s like to be one of us now that you’ve been promoted? The managers aren’t even here. You don’t have to suck up so hard.” She had twisted everything. I was so angry I just turned and walked away. She even started a side hustle using the office’s free printer, and soon our workspace was littered with tacky, colorful flyers that made my skin crawl. When I confronted her, she was defiant. “The rich get richer while the poor starve. It costs three dollars a page to print outside. I only charge one. Think of what they can do with those extra two dollars!” she preached. “You might not care about two dollars, but you’re so worried about the corporation’s bottom line. Honestly, Phoebe, I really look down on people like you.” She was using her “disruptor” persona to shamelessly exploit company resources for personal gain. I decided to stop engaging. There was no point in arguing with someone so delusional. I would just wait for her to self-destruct. The company’s headquarters sent a team for a quarterly review every three months. The next one was in a week. Her little empire would come crashing down then. But I underestimated her audacity. She had apparently decided that any item left in the office for more than three days was trash. My brand-new designer handbag went missing. I searched everywhere, only to find it listed on Vivian’s Poshmark account. Status: Sold. “Vivian,” I said, my voice shaking with rage, “why is my handbag on your resale site?” She just gave me a sly smile. “Oh, Phoebe, you don’t have to thank me for helping you declutter.” “I got a whole $500 for that fake bag, you know. I used the money to buy gifts for the office. Yours is on your desk.” Five hundred dollars? My vision went black. It was a new-season bag from a luxury brand. It was worth five thousand. “How dare you sell my things without asking? That’s stealing!” Vivian just shrugged. “Don’t be so dramatic, Phoebe. The office has a rule: anything left on the floor for more than three days is considered trash. You should be thanking me, not accusing me.” What office rule? I’d worked here for three years and never heard of such a thing. It was just another one of her self-serving fabrications. Five thousand dollars was enough to file a police report. I was done arguing. I pulled out my phone to call the police. Vivian burst into tears. “It was just a fake bag! Is it really that big of a deal? It’s not like I can’t pay you back the five hundred. I may be poor, but I have my pride. I guess I just won’t eat for the next week!” Her outburst immediately rallied the troops. “Vivian was just trying to be helpful! It was a fake bag, just let it go. Why are you bullying her like this, Phoebe?” “Wow, some people have no shame. You accepted her expensive gift and now you’re still shaking her down for money.” Gift? I suddenly remembered the new skincare set that had appeared on my desk yesterday. I used that brand and had noticed a subtle difference in the logo. Suspecting it was a knockoff, I’d set it aside. I never imagined that was the gift she was talking about. “Taking something without asking is stealing. You can have the fake skincare back. My bag was worth five thousand dollars, and I want it back. Today.” I started to dial 911. The next thing I knew, my phone was smacked out of my hand and clattered to the floor. Matt’s voice was cold as ice. “Phoebe, have you made enough of a scene? Don’t push it.” “How much was the bag? I’ll pay you for it.” “Matt!” This wasn’t about the money. It was about basic human decency. I stared in disbelief at the man I had been with for six years. We were supposed to be getting engaged soon. But right now, all he cared about was comforting a crying Vivian. “It’s okay, Vivi. I’m here now,” he said, his voice softer than I’d heard it in years. I hadn’t seen him look at anyone with such tenderness in a long, long time. Vivian had been hired by Matt directly. They’d gone to the same university, and he was her senior. The office had been buzzing with rumors about them for weeks. I’d ignored them, but seeing them together now, a sour knot formed in my stomach. Company policy forbade office romances. My relationship with Matt had always been a secret. I never thought I’d have to stand by and watch my own boyfriend be so intimate with another woman. “Vivian is new to the corporate world,” Matt said, his brow furrowed in disapproval. “She’s sensitive and shy. How could you humiliate her in front of everyone?” “It was just a bag. When did you become so petty?” In his eyes, my defending my own property was an act of aggression. I fought back tears. “Fine. Your ‘sensitive’ Vivian is so wonderful. Why don’t you just spend the rest of your life with her?” “That’s not what I mean… She’s just my junior from school. Her family’s not well-off, so it’s only natural for me to look out for her.” Seeing my tears, Matt sighed and pulled me into a hug. “And you, Phoebe… you’ve been with me for six years. You’ve been by my side as I climbed to this position. You know I only love you…” He loved me. I knew he did. The brilliant, ambitious son of a well-to-do family, a top graduate, who, for me, was willing to agree to my family’s demanding terms for our marriage. His love had always felt certain. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my own spiraling emotions. But then, I noticed something. The small, worn elastic hair tie that he always wore on his wrist was gone. “Where’s the hair tie I gave you?” “Oh, I lost it during a client meeting. Phoebe, I hope you don’t mind…” As he spoke, he pulled a small, red agate bead bracelet from behind his back with a flourish. “Don’t be sad, baby. Just give me another one to wear. It breaks my heart to see you cry.” He was so smooth. My anger dissipated. I put on the bracelet and went back to my desk. But as I approached, I saw my colleagues gathered around Vivian, cooing over her. “Don’t cry, Vivian. Wow, that gold bracelet is gorgeous! It makes your skin look so pale and beautiful. Who’s the secret admirer?” Vivian blushed. “Don’t be silly. I don’t have any admirers.” “Oh, stop being modest! I saw you at the mall the other day. Matt picked it out for you himself! A two-thousand-dollar gold bracelet, just like that.” “Hehe, don’t worry, we won’t tell anyone. Just remember to invite us to the wedding!” They chattered excitedly. Vivian looked shyly toward Matt’s office. “Okay, okay… I was just in a bad mood that day, and Matt said gold looks pretty on a girl, so he bought it to cheer me up.” “Honestly, I told him it was too expensive, but he insisted. He said only gold was good enough for me…”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384701”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The A-list actor Aaron Brown was going to be my son’s “Dad for a Day.” The entire internet was holding its breath for him. But when the live camera finally landed on my son, the chat exploded. 【Be honest, Aaron. Did you make a donation to a sperm bank a few years back?】 【OMG, what an adorable little marshmallow! He’s literally a miniature Aaron Brown.】 Thanks to his cute face and impossibly calm demeanor, my son and the movie star became the internet’s new favorite duo. I was in the middle of haggling with the production team over my son’s appearance fee when he suddenly toddled over to me—just another staff member in the crowd—wrapped his arms around my legs, and chirped in his sweet, milky voice: “Mama!” Across the room, Aaron Brown, the man I’d ghosted three years ago, looked like he’d been struck by lightning. 1 Backstage, the production team was scrambling. It was the first day of the reboot for the reality show Dad for a Day, and for the first time ever, it was being broadcast live. But the child star they had booked was a no-show, and the program was minutes away from a disastrous dead-air debut. After hearing the automated message, “The number you have dialed is currently unavailable,” for the hundredth time, the director slammed his script on the floor in a fit of rage. The impact was so forceful it sent the tower of building blocks my son, Finn, had just finished constructing, tumbling to the ground. The clatter of plastic drew everyone’s attention. Based on years of experience with child-centric reality shows, they all braced for the inevitable—a high-pitched, ear-splitting scream from a toddler in his sensitive phase for order, turning the already chaotic backstage into a living nightmare. But Finn just blinked his big, curious eyes, stunned for a single second. Then, he picked up the fallen script from the floor, wobbled over to the director, handed it back to him, and calmly returned to his blocks to start rebuilding his castle. No tears. No tantrums. Just pure, unadulterated chill. The director looked as if he’d found his savior. He dropped to his knees in front of me, where I was busy applying foundation to an actress. “Leah, I’m begging you! You have to help us out!” To reassure me, he promised, “The camera angles and the tasks will be super kid-friendly, I swear. No malicious editing, no online hate mobs. We’ll protect him.” That wasn’t what I was worried about. Finn’s emotional stability rivaled that of a capybara. Even if the producers had the guts to try and stir up drama, they wouldn’t be able to get a single negative clip of him. As for his looks, I was even less concerned. I occasionally posted photos of him online, and the comments were always a flood of excitement: 【OP, just ask me the question! You know the one!】 【YES! Your kid can absolutely be a child model!】 … What I was worried about was running into a certain someone who was also scheduled to be on this show. 2 I never thought Aaron Brown would accept an offer from our network. Traditional media had been on the decline for years, and Dad for a Day was the only show our station had that was still worth anything. But last year, the director had gotten a taste for controversy. The show became a cycle of malicious editing and deliberately casting difficult children to create viral clips of celebrities having meltdowns. The backlash was so severe that the show was temporarily canceled. Aaron had just won a prestigious acting award for his latest film. He was the hottest star in the industry. The production team had sent him an offer as a long shot, never dreaming he would actually say yes. After endless pleading from the director, I finally relented and agreed to let Finn be a backup guest. Besides, he could barely talk yet. Even if he did run into Aaron, it wouldn’t be a big deal. More importantly, the one running into him right now was me. I stood in Aaron Brown’s private dressing room, my head bowed, staring at the floor. I’d been roped in at the last minute to do his makeup. “Your assistant said you were bringing your own makeup artist, so the station didn’t assign anyone…” “Aren’t you someone?” Aaron’s deep, velvety voice washed over me from above. “Leah. Raines.” He read the name on my staff ID, a name that was both familiar and strange on his lips, and let out a cold, humorless laugh. A wave of guilt sent a tingling numbness across my face. “I… I don’t know how to do makeup for men.” It was a lie, of course. Aaron’s face was so perfectly sculpted that he could have gone on camera without a drop of makeup and still looked flawless. “Haha, Leah’s just being modest! She’s the best makeup artist at our station!” the director chimed in, pulling me aside. He lowered his voice. “I’ve already hyped you up. You know what to do.” He leaned in closer. “There’s only one Aaron Brown, but the station can hire a new makeup artist anytime. And there aren’t many places that will let you bring your kid to work, are there?” I had no choice but to bite the bullet. Aaron’s skin was pale, and it took me a while to find the right shade of foundation. Just as I was about to start, his assistant stopped me with a frown. “Is that a used makeup brush?” I was a staff makeup artist. Of course, my tools were shared. “Aaron is allergic to other people’s… residual skin cells. Didn’t you do your research?” “…” “They’ve all been sanitized,” I mumbled. “And his allergic reaction isn’t that severe. It’s usually just a little sensitive around his lips.” She reacted like a cat whose tail had just been stepped on. “Can you take responsibility for that statement? If something happens to Aaron’s face, do you know how many projects it will affect? Can a little makeup artist like you afford to pay for that?” The live broadcast was about to start; the director was already counting down the seconds. I glanced at my personal makeup bag next to my suitcase and sighed. “This is all I have on hand… unless you want me to use my personal kit.” “Then use yours.” I froze. Aaron glanced at me, his tone strictly professional. “There’s no other choice, is there?” The director, terrified of being held responsible, scurried over. “Leah rarely wears makeup, but she must have used her tools a few times, right? Isn’t there still a risk of an allergic reaction?” “It’s fine,” Aaron said, his voice casual. “I’ve built up a tolerance.” His words landed like a torpedo in the small backstage room. Every single pair of eyes swiveled to look at me. My heart hammered against my ribs, threatening to leap out of my throat. Terrified of being assassinated by his fans at the station, I stammered, “We… we’re not a thing…” The air hung thick and still for a second. Then, Aaron’s expression turned icy. “I meant, I took my allergy medication.” Someone in the room snickered. “Leah, who asked you? As if Aaron Brown would ever look twice at you!” 3 She was right. Why would Aaron Brown ever look twice at me? He was now the Aaron Brown, the award-winning actor whose live broadcast could attract over a million viewers in the first minute. The live chat was already overflowing with sympathy for him having to appear on this show. 【His garbage agency is really pimping him out for views. Making him go on this trashy show… I still have PTSD from that screaming kid last season.】 【Some of these kids just throw things when they don’t get their way. Aaron, honey, make sure you hide your favorite guitar somewhere safe!】 【Oh god, the doorbell’s about to ring and my child-hating instincts are already kicking in.】 The camera followed Aaron as he moved. He was so tall that he completely blocked the cameraman’s view, leaving only a corner of a butter-yellow suitcase visible in the shot. It was a matching parent-child set with the one I used for my makeup tools. Aaron seemed to pause, lost in thought for a moment, before shaking his head with a self-deprecating smile. He knelt down to talk to Finn. “Hey there, little guy.” His smile was warm and inviting, but this was Finn’s first time interacting with a stranger all by himself. He was a little scared. His little mouth puckered, and his eyes welled up with tears. The director, watching from the sidelines, started freaking out into his walkie-talkie. “You’ve got to be kidding me! Is this kid gonna work out? Crying the second he’s on camera is going to kill our viewership!” “If it gets bad, just keep the camera locked on Aaron’s face.” But the cameraman didn’t seem to hear him. After a close-up on Aaron, he panned the camera directly onto Finn’s tear-streaked face. The director was about to unleash a torrent of curses when he noticed the live chat’s tone had suddenly shifted. 【HOLY S***!!! Aaron, be honest, did you make a donation to a sperm bank a few years back?】 【OMG, what an adorable little marshmallow! He’s literally a miniature Aaron Brown.】 【Did he just make a little ‘maa’ sound? Was that for Mama? Baby, your auntie is right here!】 【This is the first time I’ve ever heard a baby cry without it being ear-splitting. I want one. Can someone just leave one on my doorstep?】 In the blink of an eye, the number of online viewers soared past ten million. The director started to panic. Worried about offending Aaron, he had planned a series of simple, easy tasks. It was fine for the fans, but he was afraid it wouldn’t be enough to keep casual viewers interested. “Should we… maybe increase the difficulty?” he mused. The moment he spoke, I raised my eyebrow razor and made a sharp, throat-slitting gesture. I was the station’s resident pushover, someone anyone could boss around. But when it came to my son, I would not yield an inch. Finn was still sniffling softly, and Aaron, who had zero experience with kids, was completely overwhelmed. He grabbed his guitar from the side, hoping to distract him. Even though Finn desperately wanted me, he sat attentively and listened to the entire song. He even provided ample emotional support, letting out happy little coos since he couldn’t speak. But the moment the song ended, it was as if his main quest objective reloaded. He started whimpering again. “Mama…” Thankfully, the popcorn I had prepared was finally passed to Aaron. The instant the sweet kernel touched his tongue, Finn’s eyes lit up. After finishing one piece, he immediately started scheming for more. He squeezed his eyes shut, and two perfect teardrops rolled down his cheeks. In front of the monitor, the entire crew melted into adoring smiles. Aaron couldn’t help but laugh. “Nope. Little guys can’t have too many sweets.” He placed the popcorn bowl in a high cabinet. Based on past experiences, everyone braced for a full-blown meltdown. But Finn simply wiped his tears with the back of his hand and sat quietly on the sofa like a perfect little doll. His soft, pale skin and slightly pink nose made him look like a delicate, translucent shrimp dumpling. The live chat went into a frenzy. 【This is officially the easiest parenting challenge in the show’s history. Can we get this kid a global tour?】 【As a professional babysitter, I can confirm this child is an angel. He doesn’t scream, and he doesn’t throw a fit when you take away his snacks.】 【Forget a smooth delivery, I want a smooth pickup. I’ll take this one!】 Aaron was completely smitten. He tried to ask for his name, but Finn didn’t know how to say his own name yet. All he could say was “Mama.” I was busy arguing with the director about the appearance fee, not noticing the door had been left slightly ajar. Finn spotted my pink sweater, toddled over, and hugged my leg, his voice sweet and clear. “Mama!” Three years ago, Aaron Brown, the man I’d ghosted, stared at me, his face a thundercloud. “How old is he?” 4 The word “one” was still caught in my throat when the director jumped in. “He’s two and a half, I think. I remember seeing it on the forms.” I suddenly remembered that when I was job hunting last year, I’d intentionally aged Finn up by a year so potential employers wouldn’t see me as a liability on maternity leave. But I really didn’t want to get entangled with Aaron again. I had to correct him. “He’s not two and a half. He’s one and a half.” The director scratched his head, completely oblivious. “Oh, is that right? My mistake then.” And just like that, the light that had just begun to dawn in Aaron’s eyes was extinguished, leaving behind the wreckage of a storm. “…” “You’re lying to me, aren’t you?” he asked later, during a commercial break. I tried to keep my distance, busying myself with tidying up and placing a large box between us. But he was tall and imposing, casting a long, dark shadow over me that made the cramped storage room feel even more claustrophobic. “Why would I lie to you?” I forced a casual smile. “I’m just stating a fact.” “Besides,” I added, “have you ever seen a two-and-a-half-year-old who can only say ‘mama’? If that were the case, I’d be the one crying my eyes out.” “But—” Aaron pulled out his phone and showed me the trending topics. The top three were all about him and Finn. “Then how do you explain this? The internet doesn’t lie! They’re all saying he’s my spitting image. How could he not be my son?” For a moment, I was tempted to pull out Finn’s birth certificate to prove it. But as my eyes moved away from the screen, I caught sight of his “suggested for you” search history. 【Is it normal for a two-and-a-half-year-old not to be able to talk?】 【Is it possible to be pregnant for a year and a half?】 【What are the chances of getting back together after a brutal breakup?】 What an idiot. But that was exactly what I’d fallen for—that unguarded, all-in passion. The problem was, the “me” he had fallen for wasn’t the real me. Back then, betrayed by both my boyfriend and my own family, I was afraid I was losing my mind. I dropped everything and escaped to a rustic ranch retreat in the countryside. I adopted a new name, a new personality, and surrounded myself with people who knew nothing about my past. The Leah I was there was sunny, confident, and radiant, capable of creating her own happiness. The real me was plain, insecure, and timid, constantly plagued by self-doubt. So, on the train ride back to the city, terrified that Aaron would eventually fall for someone else, I broke up with him over a text message. Though we had met again by a twist of fate, since he had forgotten, I had no intention of bringing it up. I curved my stiff lips into what I hoped was a relaxed smile. “My son doesn’t just look like you.” I casually let my phone screen light up, showing an incoming call from “Arthur Brown.” Aaron’s uncle. 5 Arthur Brown did not approve of me. But the moment he heard that the only heir of his late older brother wanted to get back together with me, he drove thirty miles straight to the TV station. The entire studio held its breath as he strode onto the set. It was almost jarring to see another face as handsome as Aaron’s. Years as a titan of industry had given Arthur a refined, aristocratic air that was uniquely his own. The online viewership numbers hit a new record. 【Did the show change formats? What other surprises are they hiding from us?】 【I don’t mind watching two handsome men raise a baby together. This is the kind of content we women need to get through the day!】 【So which one of them is the donor? The government wants us to have more kids, can we just get them to do a global donation tour?】 The director, who had been annoyed by the unexpected interruption, was now grinning so wide the wrinkles on his face could trap flies. “The ratings are secured!” His smile vanished a second later. Arthur’s assistant was ordering him to shut down the live stream. “On what grounds?” “On the grounds that eighty-five percent of your station’s advertising revenue for the past two years has come from the Brown Corporation.” The Brown Corporation’s sponsorship had started last year, right after I joined the station. Finn had been seriously ill, and I was desperate for money, but the struggling station was asking us to take a pay cut. At my lowest point, Arthur had suddenly appeared. He paid for all of Finn’s medical bills and then tried to give me hush money. I refused it. I never had any intention of telling Aaron about the child. But Arthur was cautious. He kept in touch, always finding some pretext to check in on me. “So the baby is yours, Uncle Arthur?” “When did you two get together? Are you married? How come I never knew?” Aaron fired off a volley of questions, grinding his teeth so hard I thought they might crack. “We’re not married. It was just a one-night stand.” I stirred my juice with a straw, wanting to end this entanglement as quickly as possible. The words slipped out, light and careless. Beside me, Arthur seemed to turn to stone. He was only five years older than Aaron and had been a strict, paternal figure to his nephew ever since his brother passed away. He was meticulous about his reputation, terrified of setting a bad example. In that single moment, the dignified, reserved image he had cultivated for years crumbled into dust. After a long pause, he finally picked up where I left off. “Heh, that’s right.” “Miss Raines and I will handle the child’s affairs together. Since you two have already broken up, it’s best you keep your distance.” “Keep my distance?” Aaron scoffed, his eyes filled with undisguised contempt. “Shouldn’t I be the one saying that to you, Uncle?” “Bringing a child into the world and then abandoning him, not even giving his mother a proper title…” He caught himself, quickly backtracking. “No, that’s not right. Anyway, since you two have no feelings for each other, I think it would be best if I raised the child. A proper moral upbringing is important, after all.” Arthur nudged me with his elbow. I thought he was annoyed at my reckless comment. Instead, he pulled out a diamond ring the size of a pigeon’s egg. “You’re right. Which is why I’ve been considering giving the child a complete family.” “Miss Raines, will you marry me?” Me: ? Aaron: !!!

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My father sent me to my husband’s company to test him. A surprise inspection, he’d called it. I thought it would be a formality. I wasn’t even five steps inside the office when I saw her: a woman dressed in a look of curated innocence, staring at an industrial shredder as if it were magic. “Wow, this thing is so cool,” she breathed, and then, without a second thought, she picked up a contract from a nearby desk and started to feed it in. A colleague next to her went pale. “Lexi, for God’s sake, stop!” he yelped, diving to snatch it back. “Weren’t you in Carter’s office playing video games? Why are you out here?” She just giggled. “Hehe, I got thirsty.” As if on cue, her hand, holding a full cup of water, jerked. The entire contents splashed directly onto the main power switch on the wall. The office went dark, followed by a collective cry of despair from every cubicle. I grabbed the arm of a young intern. “Who in the hell hired that woman?” He immediately put a finger to his lips. “Keep your voice down,” he whispered, his eyes wide with fear. “That’s our boss’s wife. Mr. Hayes’s wife. I heard this whole division is technically hers.” He gave me a weary look. “Are you new? You get used to it. She usually just stays in his office and doesn’t bother anyone.” A sharp, pulsing pain started in my temples. If she was Carter’s wife… then what was I? I pulled out my phone and dialed my father. “Dad,” I said, my voice cold and clear. “Cancel the evaluation. Just tell Carter to bring the divorce papers to the office.” 1 The official story was a routine divisional review. A surprise audit, my father had called it, telling me not to feel any pressure, to just consider it a chance to get familiar with the assets. The real story? He was sending me to test my husband. I figured it would be a simple in-and-out. A formality. I badged in with the credentials the front desk provided, the frosted glass doors to the main office floor hissing open before me. The first thing I saw was a woman. She was dressed in a white sundress that screamed calculated innocence, crouched in front of a heavy-duty office shredder, her expression one of childlike wonder. “Wow, this machine is so cool,” she murmured, her voice a breathy whisper. “Does it just… eat anything?” Before anyone could answer, she reached over to a nearby desk and picked up a thick, bound document. From my angle, I could clearly see the cover sheet, stamped in bold red letters: ACQUISITION AGREEMENT. Without a moment’s hesitation, she started feeding it into the machine’s hungry maw. A man in glasses nearby went white as a sheet. “Lexi, no!” He launched himself across the short distance between them, a desperate dive that was more of a controlled fall, snatching the contract from the shredder’s teeth just in time. He collided with her, but she barely seemed to notice. “My God, Lexi, what are you doing?” he gasped, his voice thin with terror. “I thought you were in Carter’s office playing on your Switch. This contract has to be signed this afternoon!” The woman—Lexi—didn’t seem the least bit offended by the collision. She just giggled, a light, airy sound, and held up an empty tumbler. “Got bored. And thirsty.” The man with the glasses clutched the rescued document to his chest like it was a newborn baby. He let out a shaky breath, forcing a pained smile onto his face. “Right. Thirsty,” he said, his voice dropping to a near-beg. “Please, can you just… go back to his office to get a drink? He has that filtered water cooler in there, remember?” She pouted. “The water in there tastes weird. I like the water out here better.” Ignoring the man’s look of pure, unadulterated despair, she skipped off toward the break room. I watched the whole insane spectacle, a sharp, pulsing pain starting in my right temple. I caught the sleeve of a young guy who looked like an intern, his ID badge still shiny and new. “Who is she?” I asked, keeping my voice low. The intern’s eyes flickered from me to the woman’s retreating back, a flicker of raw fear in them. He brought a finger to his lips in a universal sign to be quiet. “Keep it down, ma’am.” He leaned in, his voice barely a whisper. “That’s Lexi. She’s… she’s Mr. Hayes’s wife. Carter’s wife.” The floor seemed to tilt beneath my feet. In that single moment, all of Carter’s recent strangeness—the late nights he claimed were spent at the office, the way his phone was always face down on the nightstand, the vague, distant look in his eyes—it all clicked into place with a sickening finality. The intern, oblivious, kept whispering. “The rumor is, this whole division is technically hers, so she’s the real boss, you know? You must be new. You’ll get used to it.” He sighed, a sound of weary resignation that didn’t belong on someone so young. “She usually just stays in his office, watches Netflix or whatever. Doesn’t bother us. Carter must be out for that summit today, so there’s no one to babysit her. That’s when she… explores.” His words faded into a dull roar in my ears. She’s Carter’s wife. Then what in God’s name was I? “Ma’am? Are you okay?” the intern asked, his brow furrowed with concern. “You look really pale.” I forced a smile that felt like cracking glass. “Fine. Just… surprised.” I looked out at the open-plan office. “I’m just surprised a place like this would have someone like that on staff. It’s… an eye-opener.” The intern gave a bitter little shrug. “Like I said, you get used to it. As long as she doesn’t actually break anything, we just try to survive until she gets bored and goes back in his office.” I didn’t say anything else. Doesn’t actually break anything? If that contract had been shredded, a multi-million-dollar acquisition would have imploded. The fallout, the financial loss… who would have answered for that? I watched Lexi’s silhouette in the break room. She was humming to herself, her body swaying to a rhythm only she could hear. My hand went to my phone, my thumb hovering over my father’s contact. But then I stopped. Just leaving now would be letting Carter off too easy. My father sent me here to evaluate his performance. And from what I’d just seen, it wasn’t just his performance that was in question. It was his judgment. His character. His integrity. I needed to see just how deep the rot went. I smoothed down the front of my blazer and walked back to the reception desk. “Hi, my name is Audrey Sterling. I’m from the corporate headquarters, here for the divisional review.” My voice was calm, even. “I’ll need a temporary workstation, preferably somewhere quiet. And one more thing—this is an internal audit. I don’t want Mr. Hayes to be aware of my presence.” The receptionist nodded, her professional smile unwavering. I found a quiet desk in a far corner of the office, settling in behind the monitor. My eyes, however, were fixed on Lexi. She had emerged from the break room and was now staring intently at the fire alarm pull station on the wall, a dangerous curiosity gleaming in her eyes. 2 With Carter out for the day, Lexi’s boredom quickly reached its peak. She drifted out of the general manager’s office again, a ghost of chaos haunting the cubicles. She floated through the office, a walking, talking disruption. One moment she was poking at a designer’s freshly rendered graphic, leaving a smudge on the monitor. The next, she was leaning on a programmer’s keyboard, inserting a string of gibberish into a line of code. You could feel the collective tension rise wherever she went. People held their breath as she approached, only to exhale in a rush of relief and frantic damage control after she’d passed. Her tour eventually led her back to the break room kitchenette. She was apparently thirsty again. She picked up a disposable cup and held it under the water cooler spigot. I don’t know if her hand slipped or if it was intentional. But she jerked. A full cup of water flew sideways, arcing through the air in a perfect, shimmering wave. It crashed directly against the wall beside the cooler. Right where the main circuit breaker for the entire floor was housed. There was a loud, wet CRACKLE, a flash of angry blue sparks, and then… nothing. The overhead lights died. Every computer monitor went black. For a few seconds, there was absolute silence. Then, the silence was shattered by a tidal wave of anguish and despair. “MY CODE! I’ve been working on that script all morning! I hadn’t saved!” “The pitch deck! The client presentation is in two hours! It’s gone!” “The quarterly reports… they’re due at two… Oh my God, it’s all gone!” The head of IT, a perpetually stressed man named David, was the first one out of his office. He saw Lexi standing there, a look of pure, unblemished innocence on her face, and his own face turned a shade of mottled purple. His lips moved, but no sound came out. He clenched and unclenched his fists, a silent, internal battle against screaming. Lexi, of course, spoke first, her voice dripping with wronged fragility. “What happened? Is the power out?” She gestured at the smoking, blackened panel. “That switch must be really cheap. It shouldn’t break just from a little water, right? Why is our equipment so terrible?” The sheer audacity of it, the masterful way she shifted blame, was almost breathtaking. The office manager, a man named Paul, came scurrying over. He took one look at the smoldering breaker, one look at Lexi, and immediately pasted a sycophantic smile on his face. “Lexi, are you hurt? Did it scare you?” he asked, his voice oozing false concern. “Don’t you worry about a thing. It’s not your fault. It was probably just some old wiring. We’ll get it fixed right away. I’ll call maintenance, have them put in a new one, a waterproof one! You just go back to the office and relax. We’ll handle this.” Lexi pouted, clearly not entirely satisfied, but she turned and sauntered back toward Carter’s office without another word. As soon as she was gone, Paul wiped a sleeve across his sweating forehead and started barking orders at the IT department. As he passed my desk, I stopped him. “Excuse me,” I said quietly. “Does this kind of thing happen often?” He looked at me, recognized the visitor’s badge, and a look of profound bitterness crossed his face. He motioned for me to follow him into the fire-exit stairwell. The heavy door clicked shut behind us. “You’re from corporate, right? The auditor?” he asked, his voice low and conspiratorial. “Look, I probably shouldn’t be saying this, but after today…” He sighed, the sound echoing in the concrete well. “She’s Carter’s… well, you know. She’s his whole world. We can’t touch her.” “Carter’s out of town today, so the queen has the run of the castle,” he continued, his face a mask of helpless frustration. “When he’s here, at least he keeps her contained in his office…” He leaned against the railing. “Last month? She ‘accidentally’ spilled a Venti latte. A very large, very hot latte. Right on top of our primary server rack.” My stomach clenched. “The entire company’s data was corrupted. It took the IT guys a week of working around the clock just to restore it from backups. An entire week of productivity for the whole division, just… gone.” “And the consequences?” I asked. A humorless laugh escaped his lips. “The consequences? Carter said our IT department was negligent. That the servers were in an unsecured location. He docked the entire department’s quarterly bonus. Said it was an ‘object lesson’ in data security.” My heart, which had been sinking all morning, finally hit the floor. This was Carter’s management style. Let a walking disaster area run wild, and then punish the hardworking employees who had to clean up her mess. Bravo, Carter. Just bravo. Just then, the door to the GM’s office opened again, and Lexi poked her head out. “Ugh, it’s so boring in here! Is the power back on yet? My phone is about to die! Are there any good snacks in the break room?” No one answered. The only response was the deep, oppressive silence of a hundred people pushed beyond their breaking point. 3 Just as the engineering team finally restored power, my phone rang. It was my father. He needed a hard copy of the latest core data from the marketing department. It was for the main board meeting that afternoon, he said, and it was critical. He told me to handle it personally and ensure there were no mistakes. I got the data on a flash drive from the head of marketing and went to the copy room. I had just finished printing the last page, compiling the thick stack of paper and clamping it neatly in a binder clip, when the door swung open. It was Lexi, holding a large bubble tea. Her eyes immediately landed on the heavy-duty stapler on the counter beside me. “Ooh, can I borrow that? My bag of chips opened up in my purse.” Without waiting for an answer, she reached for it, her movements careless and entitled. Instinctively, I shifted the stack of documents and the stapler away from her grasp. These papers were confidential. Her hand closed on empty air. Thrown off balance, her foot caught on a power cord snaking across the floor. She stumbled forward, and the bubble tea flew from her hand. The milky brown liquid sailed through the air in a perfect, tragic arc, landing squarely on my freshly printed, absolutely critical, confidential report. The thick stack of A4 paper absorbed the sugary drink instantly, the dark stain spreading through the pages, warping them into a useless, sticky brick. For a moment, I just stared at the ruined report. The calm, detached observer I had been all morning finally evaporated. I lifted my head and met Lexi’s eyes. There was no apology in them. Not a shred of remorse. Just a flash of annoyance that I hadn’t given her the stapler. My voice, when it came out, was dangerously quiet. “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done? Can you possibly afford to take responsibility for this?” Lexi was clearly unaccustomed to being addressed with anything other than deference. She blinked, momentarily stunned. Then, her shock curdled into indignation. “How dare you talk to me like that?” she snapped. “Do you have any idea who I am?” She drew herself up, her chest puffing out. “I am Mr. Hayes’s wife!” I looked at her, my expression flat. A small, cold laugh almost escaped my lips. “Oh?” I asked, my voice still level. “And does being Mr. Hayes’s wife give you the right to destroy company property? Does it exempt you from every rule of professional conduct?” My challenge seemed to ignite a fuse. Her face flushed with rage. She jabbed a finger at my nose. “Of course it does! This company belongs to Carter, which means it belongs to me! I can do whatever I want!” Her voice rose, becoming shrill. “Who the hell do you think you are, anyway? Some new girl, trying to lecture me?” A few people had drifted over, drawn by the noise. They saw the scene—the ruined documents, my cold fury, Lexi’s tantrum—and froze, their eyes wide with fear. A couple of women from the admin team tugged gently at my sleeve, their expressions pleading with me to just apologize and de-escalate. I didn’t move. I just held her gaze. Seeing my refusal to back down, Lexi’s rage morphed into a smug, triumphant cruelty. She pulled out her phone. “Okay. You want to be tough?” she sneered. “You think I can’t handle you?” A malicious smile spread across her face. “I’m going to let Carter tell you exactly who I am. And who you are.” She stabbed at the screen and initiated a video call.

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The system tasked me with romancing the innocent male lead. I gave Damien Blackwood my all—relentless, whispering sweet nothings by day, curling up beside him at night. Each morning, I demanded a kiss before letting him rise, his face flushed crimson. My passionate assault quickly ensnared the innocent lamb. We confessed, dated, and became engaged in a whirlwind romance. But at our engagement party, the system screamed back to life: “I said romance the innocent lead, so why seduce the psycho villain?!” “What part of him seems innocent? Every time you flirted, he bought a new ‘toy,’ saving them for tonight—for you.” “He’s about to go nuclear, and you’re humming nursery rhymes!” Panic seized me. I spun to flee, only to crash into a solid chest. Damien’s arms locked around me, his smile gentle but his grip unbreakable. “Darling,” he purred, “we missed our morning kiss. How about we spend all night making it up?” 1 “Mmm…” The first thing I registered upon waking was the sound of ragged, urgent breathing. I lifted my head. A man was slumped against the wall, his handsome face flushed, his shirt torn open to reveal a wide expanse of toned chest. He looked like the textbook definition of a male lead who’d just been drugged. My jaw dropped. My name is Nina, and I’m a ‘transmigrator.’ Just moments ago, my system had thrown me into this novel. It had only managed to spit out, “Your mission is to romance the pure, innocent male lead, Damien Blackwood…” before the connection fizzled out. But it had failed to mention that this innocent little flower was this… intense. My eyes lit up. I couldn’t stop myself from walking toward him. If the innocent lamb was in trouble, then who was I to deny him a proper rescue? But I’d barely taken two steps when a brutal force clamped down on my wrist. The world spun, and the next thing I knew, I was slammed against the wall, my arm twisted behind me. Damien’s eyes were dark and stormy. “Who are you?” he growled. “What are you trying to do to me?” The words should have been terrifying. But in his drugged state, his voice was breathy, the ends of his words trembling ever so slightly. He sounded less threatening and more… adorable. A wicked grin spread across my face. “What do you think?” I purred. “I’m here to help you with your little… problem.” Damien’s brow furrowed, his grip on my wrist tightening. “Looking for a death wish?” But before he could do anything else, another wave of the drug hit him. His strength vanished, leaving him paralyzed. He could only watch, his eyes wide with a mixture of anger and confusion, as I slung his arm over my shoulder, half-carrying, half-dragging him. With a final, decisive shove— SPLASH! A huge plume of water erupted as we both tumbled into the oversized bathtub, plunging into the icy water. 2 Damien was soaked to the bone. He broke the surface, gasping for air, his voice dripping with fury. “What. Are. You. Doing?” Each word was a dagger. He was genuinely furious. But I was too busy enjoying the moment to notice. I tilted my head back, a triumphant smile on my face. “Like I said, I’m helping you with your problem.” I gestured around us. “See? You’re not even trembling anymore. It’s working, isn’t it?” Damien froze. He seemed to realize, for the first time, that the burning heat that had been consuming him was now mostly gone, extinguished by the cold water. His mind felt clearer. A complex expression crossed his face. “…You really were just trying to help?” Well, not just. I had my own selfish reasons. Pretending to wipe water from my eyes, I secretly peeked at him. His white dress shirt was now semi-transparent, clinging to his body and outlining the sharp, defined muscles beneath. It was a subtle, tantalizing kind of temptation. My face grew warm. Nina, you’re terrible, I scolded myself. Taking advantage of a poor, innocent man like this. But Damien hadn’t noticed my leering. He was lost in thought. “Why didn’t you kill me?” he finally asked. I blinked. What? “I don’t know if you were sent by the old family or our rivals from the port,” he continued, his voice low and serious. “But either way, you should have been here for my life. Why didn’t you kill me when I was vulnerable?” Okay, what was happening? I wasn’t that terrible. And why was an innocent romance protagonist talking about assassins and rival gangs? Anyone overhearing this would think he was some kind of mafia boss, not the hero of a love story. After a moment of silent mental facepalming, I finally explained, “What are you talking about? I’m here to win you over. I don’t want your life. I want you.” Damien went completely still. He stared at me, his eyes wide with disbelief, as if he hadn’t heard me correctly. “…What?” The system had told me that with pure, innocent guys, the key was to be bold, passionate, and direct. So, I gazed at him with all the affection I could muster and repeated myself. “I said, I’m here to pursue you. To date you. To make you fall in love with me. To—” “Enough,” he cut me off with a short, humorless laugh. “I get it. A honey trap.” The corner of his mouth lifted in a cynical smirk, his eyes turning cold and distant. “The people who sent you must be fools. I grew up surrounded by blood and death. Did they really think they could entice me with something as childish as love?” I was completely lost. What on earth was he talking about? None of this made any sense. But one sentence did stick out. “I grew up surrounded by blood and death.” His childhood must have been horrifying. Witnessing such things from a young age… what kind of brutal family had he grown up in? A wave of sympathy washed over me. I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him into a hug. “Don’t be sad, sweetheart,” I murmured, my voice soft. “You’ve been so strong, surviving all this on your own. Let me walk with you from now on. I’ll protect you. I won’t let anyone hurt you again.” Damien’s breath caught in his throat. For a long moment, he was silent. Then, slowly, he rested his head on my shoulder. “Really?” he whispered. “Then… I’ll be in your care.” Finally! The innocent male lead was acting normal! I was so relieved that I patted his back reassuringly. I didn’t see the way his eyes, hidden from my view, darkened with a dangerous, predatory light. He stared at my neck, his lips forming silent words. “It doesn’t matter if you’re lying. Now that you’ve made your move—” “Don’t even think about running away.” 3 After Damien recovered, we drove to his home. As we pulled up, my eyes went wide. Before me stretched a sprawling estate of modern mansions, each one oozing luxury. A line of bodyguards in sharp black suits stood at attention, their presence an intimidating wall of silent power. This was the real deal. This was the life of a novel’s male lead! As I gaped at my surroundings, a man approached and bowed to Damien. “Mr. Blackwood, we’ve caught the traitor who drugged you. How would you like to deal with them?” Damien answered without a second thought. “Feed them to the sharks, of course.” I froze solid. Wait a second. Was this really the pure, innocent hero? The way he talked about “blood and death”… was he the one causing it? Damien glanced at my petrified expression and seemed to realize something. “Don’t misunderstand,” he said smoothly. “I have a pet shark. ‘The Traitor Who Drugged Me’ is just the name of its fish food.” The man who had reported to him blinked, then immediately turned to me with a strained smile. “That’s right, miss. I’m in charge of feeding the young master’s shark. To keep things organized, I give the different food pellets… creative names. Like ‘The Traitor Who Drugged Me,’ or ‘The Enemy Who Signed His Death Warrant,’ or ‘The Uncooperative Business Partner.’” He paused. “All of these people… I mean, pellets… end up as fish food.” Though he was trying his best to smile, his eyes held a chilling, untamed ferocity. You’re a very strange man, I thought. You know that, right? I met more of his staff, and they were all the same—tough, intimidating, and looking like they could snap a man in half. And the strangest part? As soon as they finished speaking with Damien, they would immediately retreat, keeping a distance of at least thirty feet. It was as if they were all deliberately… shunning him. Ostracizing him. My heart ached. “Do you work with these people every day?” I asked quietly. “They all look so mean, and they clearly don’t like you. Do they… bully you?” Damien paused. He slowly lowered his gaze, a sad, vulnerable smile gracing his lips. “They do,” he said softly. “They’re supposed to be my subordinates, but they never listen. They bully me behind my back. I feel… scared, and very lonely, every day.” My heart shattered. No wonder Damien was so pure and delicate. Not only had he suffered a tragic childhood, but now he was being bullied by this gang of thugs. A fierce protectiveness surged through me. I took his hand. “Hey, don’t be sad anymore. From now on, I’ll come to work with you every day. I’ll stand up for you. I promise, no one will dare to bully you again, okay?” I could have sworn that as I said this, the faces of several nearby guards twitched, their expressions a mixture of confusion and disbelief. But before I could get a better look, Damien’s lips curved into a breathtaking smile. The light in his eyes was like the spring sun dancing on a lake, sending ripples through my soul. “That would be wonderful,” he said, his voice warm. “With you by my side, I’ll feel so much safer.” The sudden flash of his perfect smile hit me like a physical blow. I blushed and quickly looked away, completely flustered. And so, I missed it. I missed the way Damien turned his head slightly, catching the eyes of the guards who looked like they wanted to speak. He raised a single, elegant finger to his lips. “Shhh.” In an instant, the world fell back into absolute, unnerving silence. 4 That night, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. The room Damien had prepared for me was undeniably luxurious. The furniture, the lighting, the massive bed—everything whispered of immense wealth. But I couldn’t bring myself to like it. Everything was black. There was no warmth, no life—only a cold, oppressive atmosphere that made my chest feel tight. It didn’t feel like a place for rest. It felt like a cage. As I lay there, my thoughts drifted to Damien. If even I felt suffocated here, how could a gentle soul like him have endured it for over twenty years? And he’d said it himself: “I feel scared, and very lonely, every day…” The thought spurred me into action. I slipped out of bed and tiptoed into his room, determined to offer some comfort. The room was pitch black. I couldn’t tell if he was asleep. I moved silently toward the bed, careful not to make a sound. One step, two steps, three… Suddenly, my wrist was seized in a grip of iron. An immense force pulled me forward, and I tumbled onto the soft mattress. Before I could even process what was happening, I was pinned down. Damien loomed over me, his voice sharp and cold. “Who is it?” “Ow, that hurts!” I yelped instinctively. Hearing my voice, Damien froze. The pressure on me eased. His tone shifted, becoming low and husky. “It’s you? What are you doing in my room in the middle of the night?” I rubbed my sore wrist, pouting. “I wasn’t planning anything bad,” I mumbled. “I was just worried you’d be lonely all by yourself, so I came to… help.” The word “help” seemed to change the air in the room. Damien’s gaze intensified, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “And how… were you planning on helping me?” Under his heated gaze, I reached up, wrapped my arms around his neck, and burrowed into his broad chest. And then… I closed my eyes and promptly fell asleep. Damien waited. And waited. But nothing else happened. He let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Nina,” he said, his voice tight with a mix of frustration and amusement, “are you messing with me?” I was already half-asleep after the day’s events, but I managed a sleepy shake of my head. “No… not messing with you. Just keeping you company.” My words were slurred. “You were bullied all day… sleeping all alone at night… I thought you might be lonely, so I came to stay with you…” Damien went completely still. A long silence stretched between us. I yawned, fighting to keep my eyes open. “Do you… not want me here? If you don’t, I can go…” Before I could finish, his arms wrapped around me, pulling me tight against him—a silent answer. Listening to the frantic rhythm of his heartbeat, I finally lost the battle with sleep and drifted off. The next morning, when I opened my eyes, Damien was already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed and getting dressed. The morning light sculpted the powerful lines of his back, each muscle perfectly defined. My inner flirt stirred. It was time to tease my innocent little lamb again. I reached out and threw my arms around him from behind, hugging him tight. His breath hitched. “…Don’t,” he said, his voice strained. “Let go.” But I just snuggled closer, my voice a playful whine. “Nope! The only way I’ll let you go is if…” I leaned in, my lips brushing against his ear as I whispered, “you give me a good morning kiss.” The tips of his ears instantly turned bright red. Oh my god, I thought, stunned. He’s so pure! Just the mention of a kiss made him blush like that? But to my surprise, he didn’t push me away. He quickly turned and planted a soft, fleeting kiss on my cheek. “There. Can I go now?” I finally released him. The moment I did, he shot up and hurried into the bathroom, the red on his ears still visible. A moment later, I heard the sound of the shower running. I was baffled. Didn’t he shower last night? Why was he showering again this morning? Was this… the legendary germaphobia of a novel’s male lead? … In the days that followed, I stuck to Damien like glue. I whispered sweet nothings to him during the day and held him tight at night. I made him give me a good morning kiss every single day, or I wouldn’t let him get out of bed. And just as I’d planned, the innocent little lamb couldn’t resist my relentless affection. The way he looked at me slowly filled with a deep, overwhelming love. He indulged my every whim, his patience seemingly endless. Soon, we confessed our feelings. He proposed. We got engaged. Everything was moving along perfectly. On the day of our engagement party, after greeting an endless stream of distinguished guests, I was exhausted. Damien, ever the gentleman, told me to go rest while he handled the remaining pleasantries. I went back to his room alone, took a quick shower, and threw on a fluffy bathrobe before collapsing onto the bed. Honestly, I would never be this casual in anyone else’s room. But this was Damien’s room. Pure, innocent Damien. We had slept in the same bed for weeks, and all we ever did was talk. It was the very definition of chaste. I’d come to believe that Damien just wasn’t interested in that side of a relationship. Perhaps he preferred a more platonic kind of love… As I was pondering this, a shaky, electronic voice echoed in my mind. “H-Host… why are you lying on… Damien Blackwood’s bed?” It was my system, back from the dead! My spirits soared. “Because of the mission, of course!” I bragged. “See? I’ve already captured the innocent male lead’s heart. He’s completely in love with me. He even proposed!” Before I could continue, the system let out a deafening, panicked shriek. “WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, YOU FOOL?!” “WHAT PART OF DAMIEN BLACKWOOD SCREAMS ‘INNOCENT’ TO YOU?!” “HE’S NOT THE MALE LEAD! HE’S THE VILLAIN! THE PSYCHOTIC, MANIPULATIVE, ARCH-VILLAIN!”

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I’m an NPC in a horror game. Beautiful but tragically weak, my only role is to serve as window dressing. So when a new batch of players arrived, I was eagerly waiting for them to be slaughtered by the ghouls. But then, a message scrolled across my vision. [Still smiling, you clueless cutie? These three players are absolute monsters. They wreck instances for a living and love to break sweet little NPCs like you. Hehe… They’re especially fond of a good sandwich.] A jolt of shock went through me. Only then did I register the three pairs of predatory, almost sick, gazes fixed on me. And I was already trapped between them. 1 “Time for your injection.” The clock struck midnight as I pushed my small cart into Room 401. Inside were an old man and a girl who looked to be in her early twenties. The old man’s face was vacant, his body withered and frail. I slid the needle into his skin and fed him his pills. He showed no reaction at all. After him, it was the young girl’s turn. The sight of the cold syringe in my hand drained the color from her face. A cold sweat beaded on her forehead as she fumbled for a knife, her voice trembling as she brandished it. “Get away from me! I’m not taking it!” I stared at her in silence for a moment before turning my cart and leaving the room. Fine by me. It’s not my life on the line. This new batch of players was painfully stupid. I’d be surprised if they survived three days. 2 Every room had the same setup: one NPC and one player. The players in 402 and 403 were more compliant. Despite their fear, they obediently took their injections. I was in a great mood, humming a little tune as I kicked open the door to Room 404. But the scene inside froze the smile on my face. The NPC from Room 404… He was a heap of mangled flesh on the floor, his limbs twisted at unnatural angles. He’d been cold for a while. And the one responsible, the male player from this room, was sitting calmly on the bed. His long, wicked dark eyes watched me, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “Time for my injection, little nurse?” a low, magnetic voice drawled, laced with amusement. A shiver ran down my spine, my vision swimming with black spots. This was a real pro. Vicious. He’d killed his NPC roommate on the very first day. What if he decided to kill me, too? The hand holding the syringe trembled. My legs felt like jelly as I inched toward the man on the bed, my eyes catching the name on his patient file. Kael—Severe Mania. Extremely Dangerous. “Sleeve up, please,” I managed, trying to sound calm. Kael arched an eyebrow, studying me for a moment before obediently rolling up the sleeve of his striped uniform. The motion revealed a well-defined forearm, veins coiling just beneath the skin. My knees nearly buckled again. He could probably snap my neck with one hand. But what choice did I have? I was a nurse in this asylum. If I refused to administer medication, the system would erase me. Steeling myself, I took out the syringe and placed one hand on his forearm. It was scorching hot. Was this a normal human temperature? Had Kael merged with some kind of mutated creature in this instance? “Something wrong, little nurse?” the man’s teasing voice floated down from above. I tried to ignore the heat radiating from him, a heat that felt like it could melt me. Swallowing hard, I said, “Nothing.” I tried to push the needle into his skin. But his arm was as hard as a rock. The needle bent, unable to pierce his flesh. Had he merged with some kind of golem? My vision went dark again. “Mr. Kael, could you please relax your arm a bit? It’s too hard, I can’t get it in!” He raised an eyebrow, his tone deliberately playful. “Hard, you say?” I nodded frantically. “Yes!” At that, Kael’s arm relaxed slightly. The needle finally broke the skin, and I completed the injection. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, nearly collapsing in relief. 3 But my relief was short-lived. A pair of long, powerful hands clamped around the nape of my neck, yanking me backward. My back slammed against Kael’s chest. His searing heat and the forceful, rapid beat of his heart pressed through my uniform, practically fusing us together. The burn made me want to scream, and my face went pale with terror. So, he was done playing games. He was going to kill me. For a player of his level, killing an NPC like me was no different from crushing an ant. A fierce will to live surged through me. Trembling, I held out a small, pink, item-class hair tie, my voice cracking. “Mr. Kael, this is for you. Please don’t kill me. I’ll tell you how to clear the instance.” [Nurse’s Hair Tie: A hair tie often used by the pretty but clueless nurse. When equipped, increases Strength by 20%.] Kael’s smile was full of meaning. “A nice little toy.” He released me, though he seemed reluctant to do so, and pocketed the hair tie. “The clue. Now.” Having escaped death, I slumped to the floor, my head bowed. “There’s an exit in the morgue,” I mumbled. 4 Hearing this, a sarcastic smile touched Kael’s lips. His sharp eyes bore into me as if they could see right through my lie. “Alright then,” he said lazily. “Lead the way, little nurse.” My heart skipped a beat. I can’t go there. The whole thing was a lie. The morgue was a death trap. I’d die if I went! I feigned composure and backed away slowly. “I can’t. I have other patients to attend to.” I kept retreating until my back hit a chest as cold and unyielding as stone. A large hand clamped around my waist, trapping me in a firm embrace. A voice, laced with a chilling warning, spoke from behind me. “Lead the way.” Oh god, I’m actually going to cry. When did someone else get in the room? I didn’t hear a thing… Kael clicked his tongue, annoyance flickering in his eyes as he looked at the man behind me. “Zane, don’t scare her.” The man behind me grunted, his grip on my waist loosening slightly. But it still hurt! I gritted my teeth, my mind racing with plans to lure both of these bastards into the morgue and let the monsters tear them apart. “Little nurse, if you’d be so kind.” Kael rose and stood before me. His tall, nearly six-foot-three frame completely overshadowed me. With Zane behind me and Kael in front, I was perfectly boxed in. Sob. It seemed I didn’t have a choice after all. 5 Kael was on my left, Zane on my right. I was wedged between two men, one radiating a feverish heat, the other an icy chill. The faint scent of blood filled my nostrils, and my body was stiff with terror. Ding. The elevator doors opened. Before us, the entire second basement level was the morgue. Under the eerie, flickering lights, countless figures lay shrouded in white sheets. I swallowed hard, my voice trembling with nerves. “Gentlemen… we’re here. The clue to leaving is inside. Can I go now?” Kael crossed his arms, looking down at me. “You sure there are no traps in there, little nurse?” My heart stuttered. I shook my head frantically. “It’s just a morgue full of bodies. There’s no danger!” The more I spoke, the less I believed it myself. This was a horror instance. How could the morgue not be dangerous? Kael’s smile widened. Zane remained silent, his dark, inscrutable eyes fixed on me, revealing nothing. Just when I thought my lie was exposed, the two men exchanged a look and, without hesitation, stepped out of the elevator and into the gloomy morgue. I slammed the “close door” button. In the final second before the doors slid shut, the bodies in the morgue shot upright, ripping off their white sheets. A chorus of bloodcurdling shrieks filled the air as they swarmed toward Kael and Zane. Kael glanced back, a cold smirk on his lips. His voice was a chilling whisper. “See you tomorrow, little nurse.” 6 Hehe. See you tomorrow? Yeah, right. See you in hell. I’d heard from other NPCs that the monsters in the morgue weren’t particularly strong, but they carried a corpse toxin. Once infected, even the most powerful players would succumb to the poison within half an hour. The thought of my sacrificed hair tie made me clench my teeth. I rubbed my bruised waist and pressed the button for the fifth floor. I’d just helped the Director get rid of two powerful players and lost a valuable item in the process. He owed me some compensation, at the very least. 7 I’d heard the Director of this asylum used to be a player himself. He’d apparently taken out the final boss in a mutual kill and somehow became the new Director. I couldn’t care less about his backstory. I reached the fifth floor and knocked on the Director’s office door. “Director, it’s Sherry.” A few seconds later, the door clicked open on its own. A small smile played on my lips as I pushed it open and walked in. The light in the office was a cold, dim white. The Director, wearing a half-mask, sat on a black leather sofa. His long legs were crossed, and his pale, slender fingers tapped a rhythmic beat on the armrest. “What is it?” His voice was raspy, and the eyes behind the mask were as cold as a snake’s. I ignored his intimidating aura and scurried over, sinking to the floor by his feet. I hugged his leg and pouted. “Director, Sherry helped you get rid of two very difficult players, and I lost my favorite hair tie doing it.” The Director’s cold gaze fell to my neck. He reached out, his pale fingertips tracing a line across my skin. “Did they touch you?” I pouted and nodded. This was practically a workplace injury! The thought of the poor NPC from Room 404, who’d been torn apart by Kael, sent a shiver down my spine. I had almost suffered the same fate. Clinging tighter to the Director’s leg, I started to wail, my voice syrupy sweet. “Director, sir! Sherry was almost killed by those players! You have to give me a raise, or at least a better item!” I was convinced my charm was irresistible. But the Director just sat there on his sofa, his narrowed eyes studying me, completely unmoved. My act deflated instantly. My brain kicked into gear, and I suddenly remembered what another NPC once told me: the Director had been a deeply devoted man in his past life. He had died trying to save his girlfriend. Oh god, how could I have forgotten? My memory was getting worse and worse. I’d forgotten my entire human life, and now I was forgetting that the Director had a girlfriend? I scrambled to my feet, letting go of his leg. “I’m so sorry, Director! I’ll go clean the wards right now!” He grunted and handed me a set of clothes. “This is your compensation.” [Pink Nurse Uniform: A new outfit from the Director! Wear it to create an empathetic link with him! Simply put, when you’re in danger, the Director will feel it too~] My eyes widened as I stared at the uniform in my hands. The description was… misleading. An empathetic link with the Director? As far as I knew, countless NPCs and players had died at his hands. I wouldn’t dare share sensations with a psycho like him, not for a million bucks. My mouth twitched. After a moment of hesitation, I held the pink uniform back out to him. “Director, I don’t think this item is very useful for me. Could I maybe swap it for something else?” He stared at me, his dark eyes unreadable. “Go change into it.” Huh? Is he serious? I looked down at the thin, pink fabric in my hands, utterly bewildered. Sensing my reluctance, the Director’s lips thinned. “It’s a new item I acquired. I need someone to test its effects.” Oh. So I was just a guinea pig. I managed a weak nod and went into the adjacent break room to change. 8 “Director, it’s a little… tight.” I stepped out of the break room, pouting as I tugged uncomfortably at the fabric straining against my chest. This damn uniform was suffocating me. The Director’s eyes narrowed, his gaze lingering on me. The knuckles of his hand, clenched on the armrest, were white. He was probably feeling the tightness too, thanks to this stupid item. After a long moment, his Adam’s apple bobbed. “Come here,” he rasped. He gestured for me to sit next to him. I tugged at my uniform again and sat down with a pout. “Director, when can I take this off? Your item is going to kill me.” He slowly opened a drawer and produced a small, thin whip. “Lie down,” he said, his voice methodical. Excuse me? What did he mean? Seeing my stunned expression, he explained, “We can only share sensations when you’re hurt.” In other words, I had to feel pain… for him to feel it too. He… he was going to hit me?! In that instant, a thousand thoughts raced through my mind. I remembered how, when he first took over, he’d slaughtered every NPC in the asylum who dared to defy him. Merciless, dark, twisted—those words were made for him. If I didn’t do as he said, he would probably kill me, too. Sigh. Fine. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do to survive. With a sense of grim resignation, I draped myself over the black leather sofa. “Go ahead, Director,” I said, my voice mournful. “But please, don’t hit me too hard. If you kill me, you’ll never find another little nurse as obedient as me.” With my back to him, I didn’t see the corner of his mouth lift into a smirk. The whip landed on my rear with a sting that was more surprising than painful. Then I heard his voice, strained and hoarse with some hidden emotion. “My name is Lysander.”

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My tooth had been staging a week-long protest, and I’d finally decided to negotiate. Of all the dental chairs in all the city, I had to end up in my ex-boyfriend’s. He wore a poker face, his voice flat. “Open up.” A moment later, the verdict. “It can’t be saved. You need a root canal, then a crown. Thirty-five hundred.” My whole body went rigid. Holy shit. That’s half a month’s salary. How could the same mouth I had once kissed so passionately utter something so clinically cold? My voice trembled. “Is there… any way to make it cheaper?” My ex-boyfriend, Dr. Leo Carter, arched an eyebrow. “Sure,” he said. “It’s free for family.” 1 After a combined assault of ibuprofen and amoxicillin failed to quell the rebellion in my jaw, I finally waved the white flag and booked an appointment. I chose the closest in-network dentist my insurance would cover. When I told my best friend, Jenna, she decided to reward my bravery. She hired me a male model for moral support. “Okay, babe,” she texted, “Kaden will be there tomorrow to hold your hand. If the pain gets too bad, just focus on his abs.” The next day, I managed to coax myself out the door. I had to admit, having company was different. Kaden was ridiculously sweet, a non-stop charm offensive that actually managed to distract me from my impending doom. Until the nurse called my name. “Maya Chen.” My heart hammered against my ribs. I walked stiffly toward the exam room, my steps leaden. The moment I saw the doctor, I spun on my heel and bolted. Who in their right mind wants to run into their ex when they’re at their most vulnerable? I was halfway down the hall before Kaden and the nurse caught up, blocking my escape. “Hey, you were so close,” Kaden said, his voice a smooth balm. “Where are you going?” the nurse asked, grabbing my other arm. I was escorted back like a prisoner, one on each side. Leo Carter sat on a rolling stool, methodically pulling on a pair of latex gloves. A surgical mask hid the lower half of his face, but the cool indifference in his eyes was exactly as I remembered. He frowned at the commotion, then looked up. “What’s going on?” His eyes met mine, and a flicker of surprise crossed his features. He asked again, his voice a low rumble. “What is it?” Kaden patted the back of my hand. “It’s okay, Maya. I’m right here.” Leo’s eyes narrowed. It was his tell. The signal for deep annoyance. His gaze dropped to where Kaden’s hand rested on mine. “Family only in the exam room,” he said, his voice clipped. “You can wait outside.” My brain was a chaotic mess of panic and old memories; I didn’t even register his choice of words. I just trudged over to the chair and lay down like a patient on death row. “It’s the lower left,” I mumbled. “Open.” The cold metal of an instrument grazed my cheek, sending a shiver through me. “Don’t move.” My hand shot out, grabbing the hem of his white coat. “Does this hurt?” he asked, probing. A strangled noise escaped my throat. “You have a cavity,” he stated, withdrawing. “We need to get an X-ray.” As he stood up, my hand fell away, clutching at empty air. The nurse appeared at my side. “Come with me.” A few minutes later, I was back in the chair. Leo stared at the image on the computer screen, his brow furrowed. “It’s a deep one. The decay has reached the pulp, it’s infected. You need a root canal.” My world collapsed. I’d done my research before coming. Everyone said a root canal was torture. I squeezed my eyes shut in despair. Leo continued to explain the procedure, his voice a clinical drone. Only his last sentence snapped me back to reality. “It’s your lower left molar. You’ll want a crown on it afterward. Otherwise, it could fracture when you’re eating. If it cracks, the only option is to pull it and get an implant.” My eyes flew open. I couldn’t afford to wallow in self-pity. “How much is a crown?” I asked, my voice tight. “Does my insurance cover it?” “I’d recommend the thirty-five-hundred-dollar option. It’s the best value. It’s an imported material, so insurance won’t cover it.” My whole body went rigid. Half a month’s salary. Holy shit. How could the same mouth I had once kissed with such searing heat utter something so clinically cold? My voice trembled. “Is there… any way to make it cheaper?” Leo arched an eyebrow. “Sure. It’s free for family.” 2 Leo was a year ahead of me in college. He was the undisputed, untouchable king of the dental school. I saw him for the first time during freshman orientation, standing in the middle of a chaotic crowd. He was holding the department banner, ignoring every single person with an equal, democratic disdain. That intense, brooding energy, the sheer force of his aloofness—it hit me like a lightning strike. I asked around. The consensus was unanimous: don’t even bother. Leo Carter’s photo had already been posted on the university’s unofficial Instagram page eight times in three days during orientation week. The number of people who came to “casually” see him in person was insane. The line of girls who had tried and failed to get his attention was at least a hundred long. But I was stubborn. His name was Leo Carter. It sounded like something out of a romance novel. I shamelessly threw myself at him for a whole year. Finally, at the start of my sophomore year, I caught his eye. I’d been getting nowhere, and in a fit of frustration, I’d scheduled a swim day with Jenna. On autopilot, I sent him a picture of me in my new bikini before my brain caught up. It was too late to unsend. Leo: I saw it. Leo: Please don’t send me things like that again. Leo: … Leo: And it’s probably not a good idea for a girl to go swimming alone with a guy. Leo: I don’t mean anything by it. Just a reminder. It was the most he’d ever written to me. I looked over at Jenna—my 5’10” best friend who’d just buzzed her hair for the summer and lived in oversized, gender-neutral streetwear. I started to laugh. Later, with a little coordinated teamwork from me and Jenna, Leo was finally mine. Once we were official, he was, just as I’d predicted, incredibly passionate. Aside from being a man of few words, he was perfect. But his lack of words was also the source of most of our fights. He was a vault. You couldn’t kick a single word out of him. Most of the time, our arguments ended with him making some silent gesture of apology, usually followed by a silent, smoldering seduction. And I, pathetically, would always give in. The underlying problems were just swept under the rug. 3 Then came my graduation. He was at the dental hospital, studying for his board exams, buried in work. I was at my internship, dealing with a nightmare of a boss. I came home one evening to our empty apartment feeling a bone-deep exhaustion I’d never known before. It wasn’t just physical; my soul was tired. All the issues we’d ignored for so long felt like a lit fuse. I was desperate for a fight, for any kind of emotional release. But Leo wouldn’t engage. He just quietly placed a container of takeout in front of me. “Maya, let’s talk when you’ve calmed down.” Calm down? That’s the last thing I wanted. I hated when he was like this. So eternally calm, so unshakable. Sometimes I wondered if he even liked me, or if he’d only agreed to date me to stop my relentless pursuit. But then I’d remember what he was like in bed, and it was so much more than just tolerance. I was constantly confused, constantly telling myself to just hold on a little longer. But that day, I was done. Leo came out of the shower and started unpacking the takeout for me. I turned my head away. “Leo,” I said, my voice flat. “Let’s break up.” The man’s hands froze. He said, “Okay.” Fuck. I was furious. Why couldn’t he just grab me, pin me against the wall, and kiss me until I couldn’t breathe? Why couldn’t he tell me we would never, ever break up? The unvented emotions turned inward, twisting like a knife in my gut. I pulled it out myself. And just like that, our relationship was over. The apartment we’d found together, he left to me. We’d signed a three-year lease; there were still two and a half years left when we broke up. Traces of him would pop up unexpectedly. His worn-out sweatshirt in the back of the closet, his favorite mug behind mine. He was embedded in every corner of my life. There was no escaping it. Each discovery was a fresh pang in my chest. And now, here he was, saying, “It’s free for family.” Call me crazy, but my mind was already racing. “Dr. Carter,” I began, my voice laced with a hope I couldn’t suppress, “are you implying what I think you’re implying?” “I have no idea what you’re implying,” he said, his tone back to neutral. “Are we ready to start the procedure?” I pouted, but obediently settled back in the chair. 4 “Open up.” “Is the pain severe?” I made a noncommittal sound. Just then, Kaden, who must have been lurking right outside, burst into the room and knelt by my other side. “Don’t be scared, Maya. I’m here for you.” Leo’s face darkened. The instrument in his hand gently—or not so gently—poked my decayed tooth. “Ah!” Tears sprang to my eyes from the sharp jolt of pain. I shot him an accusatory glare. He coolly averted his gaze. “Doesn’t seem that bad. We can skip the anesthetic.” You have got to be kidding me! I’m filing a complaint! I cursed him out in every language I knew inside my head. On the outside, however, I didn’t dare provoke him further. I was terrified he’d actually follow through. “Doctor, I think I’d like the shot,” I managed to say. Leo looked down at me, his expression unreadable, dark bangs shadowing his cold eyes. He signaled to the nurse. “Please escort the non-essential personnel out.” Kaden looked back at me three times as he was led away. Leo let out a quiet, sharp scoff. In the end, I got the anesthetic. Two shots of it. Gradually, half of my face went numb. The buzzing sound of the drill started up inside my mouth. I zoned out, letting my mind drift. Suddenly, Leo spoke. “That boyfriend of yours doesn’t seem like much.” What? He wasn’t my boyfriend. But my tongue was numb too, so I couldn’t say anything. “Don’t move,” he commanded. Right. I got it now. He was deliberately taking advantage of the fact that I couldn’t speak. “If you’d come in two months ago, you wouldn’t have needed a root canal.” “He’s not very attentive to you.” “He calls you by your first name… a younger guy?” “A year post-breakup and your taste has changed that fast, huh?” “How long have you two been together?” I still couldn’t form a single word. As his questions continued, my brain started to go numb, too. 5 After what felt like an eternity, he leaned back, stretching his neck. “Alright. Come back in a week.” “And try not to chew on this side.” “Some mild pain after the anesthetic wears off is normal.” “Try to bear it. If you can’t, let me know.” As he spoke, he pulled out his phone and displayed a QR code. When we broke up, I had blocked and deleted him from everything. I took out my phone and scanned it. It looked like a work account. The profile picture was a cartoon cat in green scrubs and a mask. His feed was just an endless scroll of other people’s teeth. I thought for a moment, then typed out the most important thing first. He’s not my boyfriend. “Who cares,” he said out loud, not even looking at me. Oh, you cared enough to run a full interrogation a minute ago. His mouth might be saying one thing, but I bet he was secretly thrilled. I kept typing on my phone. How much is it for today? “We’ll settle the bill at the end.” Right. We’ll see if I even have to pay in the end. Just then, Kaden, seeing that I was done, rushed back in, his eyes wide with concern. “Maya, are you okay? Does it hurt? Want to touch my abs to feel better?” Leo, who was standing nearby, heard every word. “Seven hundred,” he said flatly. “Pay at the front desk.” I couldn’t help but smile, a lopsided, numb grin. My fingers flew across the screen. I thought we were settling it at the end? “I’ve changed my mind.” Kaden looked confused. “Doctor, what are you talking about?” Leo shot him a withering look and turned on his heel, walking away. Kaden muttered under his breath, “Wow, Maya. That guy is so rude.” On the way home, Kaden drove. I sat in the passenger seat, feeling the numbness slowly recede. I started typing again. Dr. Carter, my tooth hurts. Mild pain is normal. You said to let you know if it hurts. I’m letting you know, and it still hurts. On his end, the three dots kept appearing and disappearing: Typing… Finally, a single sentence came through. If it’s too severe, come back in. I thought for a second, then replied: I heard your clinic offers house calls. Leo: We don’t. If it hurts, come here yourself. Tsk. I pouted. He was playing the exact same hard-to-get game as when I was first chasing him. 6 When we got to my building, Kaden offered to walk me up. He was quite the professional. But as he stepped out of the elevator, a passing kid tripped and spilled a carton of milk all over him. The child’s parent rushed over, apologizing profusely. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” Kaden said. “I’ll just go change.” He was soaked, shirt and pants. It looked incredibly uncomfortable. I’d actually grown to like him over the past few hours. So I said, “I have some clothes here you can probably wear. If you don’t mind changing?” The clothes were Jenna’s, left here from a sleepover. She wore ridiculously oversized everything, stuff that would fit most guys. Kaden scratched his head. “Would that be too much trouble?” “Not at all.” He went straight into the bathroom when we got inside. I tossed my phone on the sofa and went to find him some clothes, completely missing the frantic flashing from the little green cat icon. I get off work soon. It’s on my way. I can come by and take a look. A moment later. I’m off. Heading over now. I finally unearthed a set of Jenna’s clothes from the depths of my closet. Kaden took them with a shy smile. It was only then that I saw the messages on my phone. Without a second thought, I replied: The code’s the same. Suddenly, a sharp shriek came from the bathroom. “Ahhh—” It was followed by a loud crash. I ran over. “What happened?” “Oh god, Maya, I slipped! The slipper is stuck on my ankle!” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Just… come out.” A single leg emerged from the bathroom doorway. A pink fluffy slipper was wedged tightly around his ankle. “Maya, can you help me get it off?” I had to fight a powerful urge to laugh, mostly because my face was still stiff. “Come all the way out.” Kaden poked his head out, his face a mixture of shame and helplessness. “I’m so sorry.” “Okay, look. I’ll pull the slipper, you pull your leg. On three. One, two, three.” “Okay.” 7 “One, two, THREE!” I gripped the edges of the slipper and yanked with all my might. Kaden pulled his leg back at the same time. CRASH. He lost his balance completely and went down again. The momentum of the slipper sent me flying forward, landing right on top of him. It was not an elegant position. At that exact moment, my front door was thrown open with force. “Maya! What happened?!” Leo stood in the doorway, his face etched with panic. “I heard a loud noise…” His voice trailed off as he took in the scene. His expression slowly hardened into a thunderous mask. I scrambled to get up, but I put weight on my numb arm, and it gave out. I collapsed right back onto Kaden. Leo’s sharp gaze cut between the two of us. He let out a self-deprecating little laugh and pulled the door shut behind him. I could have cried. Dude, come on! At least give me a chance to explain! Kaden carefully helped me to my feet. The ridiculous pink slipper was still stuck to his ankle. “Maya, I’m so sorry. I’ll buy you a new pair.” I waved him off, my mind elsewhere. “Don’t worry about it, I have plenty. You should just go.” Kaden looked mortified. “Okay, I’m really going. Please remember to give me a five-star review, or my manager will dock my pay.” “I know, I will.” He left, taking my pink slipper with him. I opened my chat with Leo’s green cat avatar. I was just helping him pull off a slipper. The message was met with a bright red exclamation point. Ugh. 8 A week later, I booked another appointment. “Lie back. Open.” I seized my chance. “That day, I was really just trying to help him get his slipper off.” Leo was a machine, devoid of emotion. “I know. Open.” Open, open, that’s all you ever say. It was the same when we were dating. I shot him a wounded look. He ignored it completely. “Is it still hurting?” “No.” The familiar buzzing and whirring started in my mouth. Then a scraping, filing sound. Something was being shaped and cleaned. I let my unfocused gaze drift to his face. Leo’s brow was slightly furrowed in concentration. His hands moved with practiced precision. “Stop staring at me.” “And keep your tongue still.” The nurse assisting him chuckled. “Dr. Carter, you’ve still got it. All the young women love you.” I narrowed my eyes, trying to smile without moving my mouth. After the session, the swelling in my tooth was almost gone. Leo was typing notes into the computer. “Come back in another week,” he instructed. “And keep avoiding this side when you eat.” “Doctor, I was really just trying to help him with the slipper that day.” “We don’t have any kind of relationship. You don’t need to explain it to me.” “You said the same thing when I was chasing you.” “That was then. We’re broken up now. You’re the one who ended it.” “I regret it.” A crack finally appeared in Leo’s calm facade. “One year and twenty-eight days, and now you decide you regret it?” He stood up and walked out of the exam room without another word. I thought for a moment, then went to the front desk and got a sticky note. Doctor, can you please unblock me? My tooth was killing me last time and I couldn’t even reach you. I stuck it squarely on his computer monitor. 9 That evening, I sent a random emoji to his chat, just to see if the red exclamation point was still there. It was. That petty man was still holding a grudge. Come to think of it, I’d noticed when we were dating that Leo was actually incredibly petty. If I talked to another guy at a club meeting for two minutes too long, he’d get jealous and pin me against a wall, kissing me until I begged him to stop. Now, all I got was a red exclamation point. I sighed, spooning some broth into my mouth and carefully tilting my head to the side so it wouldn’t touch the treated tooth. I opened another chat window. It was the personal number of the receptionist at the clinic. After a few days of determined effort, we had become fast friends. Amy! Amy! How’s Dr. Carter today? REPORT! He’s working late, bad mood. I’ve already heard five patients whispering about how cold he is. I grinned at my phone. Is the hospital’s complaint box just full of complaints about him? Most of them are addressed to him, yeah. But they’re mostly love letters. ? What? Who puts love letters in a complaint box? Could he even see them? I imagined the hospital board meeting, someone pulling out a scented pink envelope. What would Leo’s reaction be? Suddenly, a flood of messages came from Amy. LEO’S LEAVING WORK! HE’S WALKING TOWARD A GORGEOUS WOMAN! HE’S GETTING IN HER CAR! I shot up, grabbed my jacket, and headed for the door. I’m on my way! Too late, they’re gone. Nothing but exhaust fumes. Amy also sent a photo. It was blurry, taken in a hurry. But through the partially open car window, I could see Leo’s face. He looked happy. His usually sharp, severe features were softened. If the picture were any clearer, I was sure I’d see the corners of his mouth turned up in a smile. I froze, my hand falling from the doorknob. I slid down the door and sat on the floor. I opened Leo’s chat window again. I typed and deleted, typed and deleted. Finally, I sent just two words. You there? Message failed. Ugh. The red exclamation point seemed to mock me, stabbing at my eyes.

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The moment Jessica shoved past me into the convenience store, rattling off that all-too-familiar string of numbers, I knew. She’d been reborn, too. In my previous life, just before graduation, Jessica and I both landed final interviews at the same Fortune 500 company. There was only one spot. On the day of the interview, I bought a lottery ticket on a whim. That single decision made me miss my slot. Jessica, of course, got the job. But then my ticket hit the jackpot: fifty million dollars. After graduation, I retired before I even started, living comfortably off the interest. Jessica’s dream job, on the other hand, turned into a nightmare. The pay was garbage, she was bullied relentlessly, and eventually, she took all her rage out on me. She cornered me on the roof of my penthouse and sent me plunging to my death. After I was gone, my own boyfriend, Leo, helped her cover it up. He told the police I’d become mentally unstable from having too much time on my hands and had jumped myself. The two of them built an empire on my corpse, becoming celebrity influencers with millions of followers, monetizing my tragedy and raking in a fortune. Now, I’ve opened my eyes again. I’m back on the day I bought that ticket. … “I need a lottery ticket, quick!” Jessica darted around me, rushing into the store. As she breathlessly recited the numbers etched into my memory, my suspicions were confirmed. She knew. With the ticket clutched in her hand, Jessica turned, a triumphant smirk playing on her lips. “Sorry, Sophie. I bought this one.” I shrugged, a perfect mask of indifference. “I wasn’t planning on buying one anyway.” She didn’t believe me for a second. With a cold snort, she tucked the ticket safely into her purse. “How could you not? This ticket is the reason…” She stopped herself, catching the words before they spilled out. I knew exactly what she was about to say. In our last life, this ticket was the reason I missed the bus, the reason I was late for the interview. The reason she landed that coveted offer from a Fortune 500 company. But it was also the ticket that won me fifty million dollars. While she slaved away at her new job, I was at home, living a life of leisure. Her life at the company spiraled—low pay, constant harassment, utter misery. And in a fit of bitter jealousy, she had murdered me. Jessica’s eyes glinted with smug satisfaction. “You know what? I don’t think I’ll go to the interview. Since you love being a corporate drone so much, the spot is all yours.” I just nodded. Fine by me. The fifty-million-dollar ‘jackpot’ is all yours, too. Without a moment’s hesitation, I turned, boarded the bus, and headed for my interview. That evening, when I got back to the dorm, I found Leo with his arm wrapped possessively around Jessica’s shoulder. I’d been so blind in my last life. Only in death did I realize they’d been plotting behind my back all along. Seeing me, they didn’t even flinch. Their faces were masks of pure provocation. Leo’s expression soured into one of disgust as he looked at me. “Sophie, the person I really love is Jessica. I was only with you for those two rundown apartments your family owns.” He pulled Jessica closer. “But things are different now. My Jessie just won fifty million dollars. We’re rich. I don’t have to compromise for money anymore. I don’t have to stomach being with someone as gross as you.” My fists clenched, my nails digging into my palms. So that’s how it was. Jessica and Leo both came from small, rural towns with nothing to their names. One was my best friend, the other my boyfriend. I’d never been stingy with them, always happy to share what I had. Only now did it click. They weren’t my friends; they were leeches, sucking me dry. If fate has given me a second chance, I’ll make you pay back every drop of blood you took from me—a thousand times over. Jessica let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Sophie, I used to let you have things because your family was a tiny bit better off than mine. But now? I’ve won fifty million. I’m financially free. How could you possibly compete with me?” She gestured dismissively at me. “You’re destined to be a miserable wage slave for the rest of your life. But Leo and I,” she said, her voice dripping with condescension, “we’re about to travel the world. A life you can only dream of.” They packed their bags and moved out of the dorm right then and there. As I watched their retreating backs, a cold smile touched my lips. Fools. Did you really think a windfall like that would ever fall into your laps? My interview had been a success. I nailed every question and secured the offer from the Fortune 500 company—the absolute pinnacle for someone with my degree. The office was far from my parents’ house, so after talking it over with them, I decided to buy a condo nearby. I was at the sales gallery for a new high-rise, looking at a few units with an agent, when a familiar, brash voice cut through the quiet atmosphere. “Someone get over here! Show us the best places you’ve got!” I turned to see Leo, his arm slung around Jessica, swaggering in like he owned the place. When they spotted me, they made a beeline in my direction, their faces twisted in derision. “Sophie, what are you doing here, playing pretend?” Leo sneered. “You can’t afford a place like this.” “I’ve already checked,” Jessica added, chiming in. “Even if you sold both of those little shoebox apartments your family owns, you wouldn’t have enough for a down payment in the city center.” At their words, the sales agent, who had been bubbling with enthusiasm just moments before, visibly cooled. I fired back, “I can’t afford it? And you can?” Jessica threw her head back, her chin held high. “Of course. I won fifty million. I could buy several of these in cash.” The agent’s eyes lit up, and she immediately gravitated towards them. “Ma’am, how can I help you?” Jessica pointed a perfectly manicured finger at a model of the penthouse suite. “That one looks… acceptable.” The agent beamed. “An excellent choice, ma’am! That unit has the best location and the most breathtaking views in the entire building. For someone like you, the price is certainly no issue. It’s a mere two million dollars.” “Two million!?” Leo and Jessica froze, their jaws dropping in unison. They hadn’t imagined a 1,000-square-foot apartment in the city could be so outrageously expensive. “Of course, if that feels a bit steep, you could always finance it,” the agent offered smoothly. Jessica’s face flushed with embarrassment. She stiffened her neck and snapped, “Finance? I won fifty million. I’m paying in cash, obviously.” The agent’s smile returned, wider than before. “Of course! If you’d like to secure the unit, you can put down a hundred-thousand-dollar deposit now. If the lottery winnings haven’t cleared yet, we can help you arrange a short-term bridge loan from the bank.” Leo and Jessica exchanged a hesitant glance. I chose that moment to cut in, my voice laced with impatience. “I’m starting to doubt you even won anything. Are you two just here to waste everyone’s time? If you can’t afford it, stop holding things up and get out.” My words hit their mark. Leo’s face turned crimson with rage. “Shut your mouth! Jessie won fifty million, I swear! The money just hasn’t come through yet.” I waved a dismissive hand at them. “Whatever. Just get out of the way. I’ll take this unit.” That sent them into a panic. Jessica, biting her lip, blurted out, “I want it! I’ll get a loan from the bank for the deposit right now!” For the next few days, Jessica and Leo’s social media was a non-stop parade of their world travels. Every photo was a carefully curated tableau of luxury brands and five-star resorts. It was clear that on top of the mortgage, they had taken out a mountain of other loans. Let them fly high. The fall will be that much greater. They even sent me a flood of pictures directly, which I promptly ignored before blocking both of them. I spent those days buried in work. A Fortune 500 company was no joke. I hadn’t even officially started, but my team lead had already sent over piles of material for me to get up to speed on. Then came the day of our graduation party. Jessica, as the class president, sent a message to the group chat. 【Everyone, please be at the designated restaurant by 11:30 AM sharp for the graduation party.】 After sending it, she specifically tagged me. 【@Sophie, you have to be there.】 I replied immediately: 【Okay.】 A few people grumbled in the chat, asking why she’d chosen a restaurant so far from campus. But I knew why. The restaurant was right next door to that fateful convenience store. At 11:30, with all the students and professors assembled, Jessica finally made her grand entrance, arm-in-arm with Leo. The entire room fell silent. They were transformed, dripping from head to toe in an aura of extravagant wealth. Jessica handed out a small, sought-after designer toy to every single classmate. “Everyone,” she announced, her voice ringing with authority, “order whatever you want today. It’s all on me!” Most of our classmates just stared, as if watching a pair of clowns. Some even whispered that the toys she’d given out were probably fakes. Unfazed, Jessica pulled the lottery ticket from her purse and waved it in the air for all to see. “I won the fifty-million-dollar grand prize.” The announcement hit the room like a bomb. “Fifty million!” “Did I hear that right? Jessica is that lucky?” “Oh my god, I’ll never make that much in my entire life.” As if that wasn’t enough, she had a massive banner hung across the restaurant wall. 【CELEBRATING JESSICA’S $50 MILLION LOTTERY WIN!】 One of the professors, looking skeptical, asked, “The drawing hasn’t even happened yet, but you have the ticket. So where did all this money come from?” Jessica waved a dismissive hand. “The money will be in my account soon enough. I’m just enjoying it a little early.” Someone in the crowd muttered, loud enough for others to hear, “Wait, wasn’t Leo dating Sophie? How did he end up with Jessica?” Faced with a sea of questioning eyes, Leo remained utterly shameless. He squeezed Jessica’s hand and addressed the room. “Everyone knows you climb the ladder of success, right? It’s only natural.” He gestured toward me with contempt. “After graduation, Sophie is just going to be another cog in the machine, a miserable little wage slave. But Jessie… Jessie is different. Besides,” he added with a shrug, “my true love was always Jessie.” His speech left many of our classmates speechless. One girl finally stood up for me. “But Sophie got an offer from a Fortune 500 company. That’s the best offer anyone in our class got.” Jessica burst out laughing, tears welling in her eyes. “The best offer? So what? Will she ever make fifty million in her entire lifetime? In today’s world, what does a good job even mean? It just means you’re a well-dressed slave in a fancy cage, treated worse than an animal!” She then turned her venomous gaze on me. “Sophie, you’re not even worthy of shining my shoes. But if you serve me well, maybe I’ll be merciful and toss you a few scraps.” Her words made others blush with shame and anger, but no one dared to argue. Some of the more opportunistic students were already starting to suck up to her. “Jess, I always knew you were destined for great things! I just never imagined your luck would be this incredible!” “Yeah, don’t forget about us when you’re on top!” “Exactly! Give your old classmates a hand up!” They knew her words were vile, but they couldn’t deny the truth in them. No matter how good a job they landed, earning fifty million dollars was a pipe dream. The mood shifted, and soon others were piling on. “Jessica’s right. So what if Sophie got a fancy job? She’ll just be working herself to death for someone else. She can’t compare to Jessica.” I just smiled faintly. The truth was, the company’s benefits and culture were excellent. The only reason Jessica had crashed and burned in her past life was because she’d tried to seduce her boss the moment she walked in the door, making herself an office pariah and a target for everyone’s scorn. Finally, the meal ended, and it was time for the main event. Jessica touched up her makeup, smoothed down her designer dress, and stepped onto the small stage at the front of the restaurant. At the same moment, a dozen influencers suddenly swarmed in, cameras and ring lights at the ready. She gave them a subtle nod. It was all planned. Jessica held up the lottery ticket again. She leaned into a microphone, her voice broadcasting to thousands of viewers online. “To all my followers, I’ve just graduated from college, and I’ve already won a fifty-million-dollar lottery. From now on, I am financially free. I can travel the world while the rest of you pathetic drones slave away at your miserable jobs.” Her voice dripped with malice. “You’ll get pennies for pay, you’ll be trampled on by your superiors, stripped of your dignity, and you’ll stare down a long, bleak road to a meaningless end.” She shot a pointed look in my direction. The live chat exploded with angry comments, but Jessica ignored them completely. She pointed a finger at me, her tone imperious. “Sophie, the store where I bought this is right next door. Go get the owner. Tell him to come here and verify my ticket, live.” I didn’t move. Leo stepped forward, his face a mask of annoyance. “Sophie, are you fucking deaf? What are you waiting for? Jessie is honoring you by even asking. At your level, you’re not even fit to carry her shoes. You should be grateful she’s giving you a task. Serve her well, and maybe she’ll throw you a bone.” A few classmates couldn’t stand it anymore, whispering behind their hands. “This is disgusting. A sudden fortune, and she acts like this? She won’t hold onto it for long.” “She was supposed to be Sophie’s best friend, then she steals her boyfriend and has the nerve to order her around? Who does she think she is?” When I still didn’t budge, Jessica’s voice turned threatening. “Sophie, I suggest you wake up. Given the gap between us now, I could crush you with a single word.” I just glanced at my watch. “Let’s wait five more minutes.” Jessica looked confused, unsure what game I was playing. She scoffed. “Fine. We’ll wait five minutes. But let me tell you, Sophie, even if we wait fifty minutes, it won’t change the fact that I’ve won fifty million dollars.” A cold smile played on my lips. Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Her words had barely faded when a woman burst through the restaurant doors. She stormed toward the stage, screaming at Jessica. “Are you out of your mind, you little brat? That lottery ticket is mine!”

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My boyfriend was the most devoted man in the world. He always said he wouldn’t marry anyone but me. Right before our wedding, I found an anonymous post he’d written online, answering a question: “What’s it like to be deeply in love with someone you can’t be with?” 1 I always believed Liam was the best boyfriend in the world. Until the Fourth of July. I’d gone to find him at his grandmother’s apartment, and from a distance, I saw him shielding another girl behind his back. Across from them, Liam’s grandmother was pointing a trembling finger at the girl, her body shaking with rage. “What are you doing here? Haven’t you people done enough to ruin our family? Get out! Get the hell out of here and don’t you ever come back!” The girl hid behind Liam, clutching the hem of his shirt. Her delicate, fragile frame looked utterly pitiful. “Grandma, it’s the holiday… I just wanted to bring you a little something…” On the ground, a box of artisanal pastries had been overturned, its contents scattered across the concrete. Liam’s grandmother was sputtering with fury. “Like I’d ever take anything from you!” She snatched one of the pastries from the ground and hurled it at the girl. The hard edge of the almond biscotti cut her skin, leaving a thin red line. “Grandma!” Liam threw himself in front of the girl, just as another pastry struck him square in the chest. “Liam…” the girl cried out. He let out a sharp grunt of pain, clenched his jaw, and shot a cold look over his shoulder at her. “What are you waiting for? Get lost.” Tears welled in her eyes. She sobbed, “Liam, I… I just wanted to see you.” In the dim evening light, I saw it clearly: Liam’s eyes were red. But his voice was still ice. “Sophia, I’m telling you to leave. No one here wants to see you.” Sophia turned, weeping. Her vision must have been blurred by tears, because after a few steps, her foot slipped on the edge of the staircase. She was about to tumble down the stairs when, in a flash, Liam lunged forward without a second thought. He caught her, wrapping his arms around her and using his own body to break her fall. 2 That night, Liam didn’t come home until after midnight, his torso wrapped in bandages. He told me there had been an accident on a construction site. A couple of workers got into a fight, and he’d been caught in the middle. I sat on the sofa, just looking at him as tears streamed down my face. Panic flashed in his eyes. He fumbled for the tissue box and came over, clumsily dabbing at my cheeks. “Hey, you’re worried about me? Don’t cry, don’t cry. It doesn’t even hurt, I promise.” He pulled faces, doing anything he could to make me laugh until a small smile finally broke through. Only then did he seem to relax. “Look at you,” he murmured, stroking my hair. “When I’m not here, you forget to eat. You’re going to give yourself another stomachache.” He rinsed a bowl of strawberries for me before heading into the kitchen to cook. I watched him, a six-foot-two man wearing my Cinnamoroll apron, moving around the kitchen with familiar ease. The spicy, smoky scent of Cajun chicken soon filled the air—Liam could never handle spicy food, but because I loved it, he’d taught himself how to cook it perfectly. Everyone said I had the best fiancé in the world. And in that moment, in the warmth of our apartment, I felt it too. But I couldn’t lie to myself. I had seen it. A few hours earlier, hidden behind a row of hedges near his grandmother’s building, I had seen her—Sophia—dabbing ointment on his cuts. She tended to his wounds, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. “Why can’t we be together?” she whispered, her voice choked with tears. Liam’s jaw was tight, his face a mask. She began to tremble uncontrollably. “What did I do wrong? Why is fate so cruel to us? “Liam, I just need to ask you one thing. I’ve loved you for eleven years. I’ve never stopped. “What about you? Do you still love me?” For a long, long time, there was only silence. Finally, he turned his face away from her. And for the first time, I saw the man everyone called cool and composed break down completely. He said, “I do.” 3 Liam and I had been together for a long time. I’m a doctor at Metro General. His grandmother was a patient on my floor after her surgery. She would always hold my hand and refuse to let go. “Such a good girl! You should be my granddaughter-in-law!” I’d glance over at Liam, who would blush and quickly look away. His grandma would complain to me in a stage whisper, “Honestly, that silly boy is crazy about you, but he’s too shy to say anything. If he doesn’t make a move soon, I’m done helping him!” From that day on, Liam started pursuing me. He’d show up with flowers and my favorite cheesecake. He, a six-foot-two man at the height of his career, would kneel on a busy sidewalk to tie my shoe, as earnest and devoted as a golden retriever. My hours were grueling, and sometimes he’d wait downstairs for three or four hours just to see me for a few minutes, never once complaining. Even then, Liam was a rising star in his field—young, handsome, and successful, with no shortage of women interested in him. No one could believe he pursued me with the bashful uncertainty of a teenager experiencing his first crush. My colleagues were envious. “Claire,” they’d say, “a man like that is one in a million.” That New Year’s Eve, he made it official. He took me to watch the fireworks over the city skyline. As the sky exploded in a riot of color, he turned to me, his eyes shining. “Claire, be my girlfriend. I’ll spend the rest of my life making you happy.” I closed my eyes, tears of joy slipping down my cheeks, and said yes. In that moment, I thought, I have the best boyfriend in the world. 4 And he was. His social media profile picture was a photo of me. A snapshot of us was clipped to his car’s visor. He’d video call me whenever he traveled for work and came straight home to me the second he was done for the day. I never once felt the need to check his phone. It seemed pointless. If I couldn’t trust Liam, who could I trust? … It was 1:30 a.m. Liam was fast asleep beside me. I took his phone and slipped into the bathroom. I needed to know who Sophia was. … As dawn broke, Liam stirred. I had already placed his phone back on the nightstand. He didn’t notice a thing. He just leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Morning, honey. I’m heading to work.” After he left, I opened my eyes. Silent tears soaked my pillow. 5 Liam and Sophia were childhood sweethearts. Liam’s father was a construction worker; Sophia’s was the boss. But the class difference never mattered to them. They were inseparable growing up. Until their junior year of high school, when Liam’s father died. Sophia’s father had embezzled company funds, cutting corners on a major project. A half-finished building collapsed, and Liam’s father was buried in the rubble. Liam’s mother had passed away years earlier, so he was raised by his dad and grandmother. With the family’s pillar gone, his grandmother suffered a heart attack and barely survived. Under a Reddit thread titled, “What’s it like to be deeply in love with someone you can’t be with?” I found Liam’s anonymous post. He had documented that dark time, date by date. [June 5th: She came to our door today, crying, trying to apologize. Grandma hit her with her cane and drove her away. It hurt to watch. I want to hate her. But the moment I see her, I can’t. She’s suffering too. June 21st: She came back. The stress made Grandma sick again, her condition got worse. I had to be cruel. I told her to never come back. She cried. Seeing her cry broke my heart. So this is what love feels like.] After that, there was a gap of many years. Then, a few winters later, I saw a new entry. [December 6th: It’s been years since I last saw her. Grandma and I have a normal life now. I’ve fallen for someone. A girl at the hospital. She’s so good, so gentle and kind. It’s the first time I understood what people meant by an angel in scrubs. I haven’t even won her over yet, but I can already picture our life together, and the thought of it fills me with a quiet happiness. It feels so good. I’m finally moving on.] For a long, long time, there was nothing else. Until a few days ago, when he edited the post one last time. He added two lines: [She’s back. And I realized I still love her.]

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