Category: English

The bonus announcement. The guy at the desk next to me was about to have a coronary. “A quarter-million!” What I got was a single, gleaming number: Zero. I didn’t scream. I didn’t rage. I just quietly packed up my desk. I went home, locked the door, and tossed my phone in a drawer. I slept like the dead. The next morning, I turned it on. The sound was a physical assault. 129 missed calls. 289 text messages. The one pinned to the top was from HR. It read: The entire company is looking for you. 1 The number that broke the office was two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Greg Peterson’s shriek of joy was sharp enough to shatter glass. “Two-fifty! A cool quarter-mil!” He held the thin paper check above his head like an Olympic medal, his face a mess of triumphant wrinkles. The rest of the office swarmed him instantly, a cloud of flies drawn to the scent of money. The air thickened with a cloying web of envy and praise. “Greg, you’re the man!” “That’s a new Porsche right there.” “Drinks are on you tonight, buddy!” My cubicle, just a few feet away, was an island of silence, forgotten by the tidal wave of noise. The air around me felt cold enough to crystallize. In my hand, I held a check cut from the same stock, addressed to me, Ava Mitchell. But in the amount line, printed in stark, round, mocking figures, was a single number: 0. Next to it, a single word: None. I was the lead on Project Horizon, an initiative that had single-handedly secured the company’s strategic dominance for the next three years. Its projected profits ran into nine figures. And my reward, my year-end bonus, was nothing. The gazes that drifted my way were a toxic cocktail of pity, morbid curiosity, and thinly veiled glee. They were waiting for the show. They wanted tears, or screams, or a furious, desk-clearing rampage. They got none of it. I didn’t even raise an eyebrow. Expressionless, I folded the light, impossibly heavy piece of paper in half, then in half again, and slid it into the deepest recess of my handbag. Then, I picked up my water glass and walked toward the break room. My spine was straight. The sound of my heels on the polished concrete floor was a steady, deliberate rhythm. Not a tremor. The break room door muffled the celebration, but snippets of conversation still bled through. I heard Chloe’s voice, low and tight with a fury that was close to tears. “It’s obscene! Everyone knows Ava’s Project Horizon was the biggest win of the year! Greg Peterson is a bootlicking moron, how does he get a quarter-million? Is there any justice in this place?” Chloe. The only real friend I had here. A fresh-faced graduate who still believed hard work was its own reward. Another voice hushed her. “Keep it down! Are you trying to get fired? This came from Marcus, obviously. Ava must have pissed him off.” I filled my glass and walked out, my eyes meeting Chloe’s. They were red and swollen. She looked away, guilty, like a child caught doing something wrong. Her lips parted, but no words came out. I walked over and placed a hand gently on her shoulder. She looked up, surprised to see the ghost of a smile on my face. It was a smile that never reached my eyes, a thin, cold line drawn across my lips. My gaze told her everything she needed to know: Don’t worry. I know. This is just the beginning. Back at my desk, I began to pack. My movements were calm and methodical, like a ritual. Files were archived, data encrypted, personal items placed one by one into a cardboard box. The office had grown quiet. The only sound was the soft rustle of my packing. Greg, apparently annoyed that my silent dignity was dampening his moment, sauntered over, his face a smug mask of counterfeit sympathy. “Hey, Ava,” he sighed, the glee barely concealed in his eyes. “Tough break, huh? Look, the market’s tight, company’s under pressure… someone had to take one for the team. Don’t take it personally. Just work harder next year.” I paused. Slowly, I lifted my head and met his gaze. My eyes were still. Still as a deep, frozen lake. There was no anger, no sorrow. Just a pure, unvarnished coldness that seemed to suck the air out of the space between us. He flinched. The fake smile on his face froze and then crumbled. I said nothing. I just held his gaze until he squirmed, muttered something, and shuffled away. I packed the last file and shut down my computer. The screen went dark, reflecting my own placid, unreadable face. Carrying my box, I was the last to leave the main floor. Behind me, I could feel the weight of dozens of eyes, could hear the first whispers bloom in the silence. I didn’t look back. I was walking out of this office and into a storm. But first, I needed to sleep. 2 I didn’t turn on the lights when I got home. The apartment was a patchwork of shadow and neon glow from the city outside, so quiet I could hear the dust settle. I left the cardboard box—the container of my professional dignity—by the door and took out my phone. Without hesitating, I pulled open the bottom drawer of my desk, the one that was stiff with disuse, and tossed the phone inside. I shut it with a definitive click, sealing away a world of noise and poison. A scalding hot shower steamed up the bathroom until my reflection in the mirror was a blurry ghost. I let the water cascade over me, as if it could wash away the grime of the corporate world, the stain of public humiliation, the sting of being betrayed by the director I’d trusted. Emotion is the most useless currency in the world, especially when you’re already at the poker table. I dried off, went to the kitchen, and made myself a simple bowl of broth with a handful of noodles. No meat, no eggs, just a few greens and a pinch of salt. I sat in the dark living room and ate every last bite in silence. The warmth settled in my stomach, and the fog in my mind began to clear. I felt no anger. Only a crystalline, ice-cold clarity. A zero-dollar bonus wasn’t an oversight. It was a declaration of war from Marcus Cole, my smiling viper of a boss. It was a calculated act of humiliation, designed to drive me out. Why? Project Horizon. The project I had built from scratch. It had an immense technological barrier to entry and a limitless market, making it the company’s lifeblood for the foreseeable future. Whose slice of the pie had it threatened? Or rather, who had decided to claim it as their own? Marcus was a corporate parasite who had climbed the ladder on nepotism and back-room deals. He didn’t have the technical skill to touch my work, but he had the greed. Greg Peterson, the fool who got the quarter-million, was just a pawn. A loud, obnoxious piece of bait meant to make me angry, to make me lash out and give them a reason to fire me for cause. There was a bigger game being played. And I, Ava Mitchell, was the obstacle that had to be removed. They wanted me gone because I knew Horizon too well. I knew every line of code, every hidden backdoor. They were afraid of me. So, the plan was simple: humiliate me with the zero-dollar bonus. Provoke me. Hope I’d cause a scene, allowing them to fire me for “disrupting the workplace.” If I didn’t, they still won—an employee they’d labeled as worthless could be discarded at any time. It was a brilliant plan. Except they made one critical miscalculation. I, Ava Mitchell, have never been one for shouting matches. I believe that actions are the only language that matters. And results are the only form of justice. Before bed, I stood at the floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the sprawling galaxy of lights below. Every light was a story, perhaps a soul like mine, fighting to survive in the corporate jungle. But tonight, I wouldn’t be one of them. I would be the storm. I slipped into bed and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. My body and mind needed a complete reset, a full charge for the battle that was coming. In my subconscious, lines of code, encrypted files, and the two-faced smiles of my colleagues flashed and sorted themselves, analyzed and filed away. The next morning, the first ray of sunlight cut through a gap in the curtains and landed precisely on my face. I opened my eyes, stretched, and felt a surge of power course through me. It was the exhilarating calm of a soldier heading into a war she knew she was going to win. I got up and pulled open the dusty drawer. The moment I picked up my phone and pressed the power button, I knew. The show was about to begin. 3 The moment the screen lit up, the world came rushing in. BZZZZZZZZT. The vibration was a physical assault, a relentless, high-pitched scream that threatened to deafen me. On the screen, the red notification badges for missed calls and messages climbed at a dizzying speed. They finally stopped at a breathtaking combination: 129 missed calls. 289 text messages. I narrowed my eyes and swiped to unlock. The message pinned to the top was from the Head of HR, a woman whose communication was usually limited to corporate platitudes and layoff announcements. Her text was a thinly veiled command: [Ava, call me immediately. The entire company is looking for you.] The entire company? A cold smile touched my lips. Yesterday, I was the invisible woman, the disposable employee they could humiliate and discard. Overnight, I’d become the most wanted person at OmniCorp? Their reaction was faster, more explosive than I could have hoped. I scrolled through the messages. A third of them were from Chloe. [Ava, are you okay? Just text me back!] [Please don’t do anything crazy! That place isn’t worth it!] [SOMETHING IS WRONG! It’s Project Horizon! CALL ME! NOW!!] Her panic escalated with every message. Greg Peterson’s texts were an interesting progression as well. [Ava, don’t take the bonus thing to heart. Marcus had his reasons.] [Where are you? Get back to the office ASAP! It’s an emergency!] [Ava, where the HELL are you?! Get your ass back here!] From phony sympathy to frantic anxiety, and finally, to pure, unfiltered rage. He seemed terrified that I had vanished. But the most telling communications were from Marcus Cole himself. He had called over twenty times from his personal cell. His texts were a masterclass in manipulation. [Ava, I know you’re upset, but this isn’t the time for drama. The company needs you.] [Return to the office immediately. That’s an order.] [If you do not show up, there will be consequences.] Threats, bribes, empty promises—he was running through his entire playbook. Too bad for him, I was no longer a piece on his board. I rose from the desk, ignoring the urge to call anyone back. I walked to the bathroom, went through my morning routine, and even put on a hydrating face mask. Then, I opened my closet to select my armor for the day. I chose a tailored black suit, a silk shell, and a pair of four-inch stiletto heels. I didn’t look like a disgraced employee. I looked like a queen about to stage a corporate takeover. I brewed the strongest black coffee I could, no cream, no sugar. The bitter liquid sharpened my focus. I opened my laptop, connected to my private network, and began scanning OmniCorp’s internal servers and the latest industry news. I knew that every minute I delayed, their panic would multiply tenfold. The power had shifted. The moment I’d turned off my phone, the roles in their little hunting game had been reversed. I, Ava Mitchell, was no longer the prey. I was the hunter. 4 Halfway through my coffee, I called Chloe. She answered on the first ring. “Ava! Oh my god, you finally answered!” Her voice was thick with tears, the words tumbling out in a rush. “You scared me to death! I thought you…” “I’m fine,” I cut her off, my voice perfectly level. “Tell me what’s happening. The facts.” My calmness seemed to ground her. She took a shaky breath. “It’s Horizon… the source code for Project Horizon. It’s been stolen.” My pupils contracted almost imperceptibly. There it is. Just as I predicted. Project Horizon. My masterpiece, the pinnacle of my career, and the most powerful landmine I’d ever planted. Chloe’s voice was breaking as she continued. “Last night… right after the bonus meeting, security detected a remote breach. All of Horizon’s core code was copied and extracted. And the backups… they were all wiped out by some kind of custom virus. There’s nothing left, Ava!” “The whole company is in chaos. The tech department is losing its mind. I heard our stock is already plummeting in pre-market trading!” She choked back a sob. “And Marcus… in the emergency meeting, he said your name. He said you did it out of revenge. He’s already called the police. He’s naming you as the prime suspect in a major corporate espionage case.” Listening to her, I felt a cold, sharp laugh rise in my chest. What a beautifully vicious move. Frame me for revenge by withholding my bonus, creating the perfect motive. Then, when the code goes missing, I, the one person with both motive and means, become the perfect scapegoat. He wasn’t just trying to fire me. He was trying to bury me. “Don’t panic,” I told Chloe, my voice steady. “Give me more details. What was the exact time of the breach? What did security’s initial report say? What’s the executive response?” “The breach was around 10 p.m. last night. Security said it was a top-tier hacker, clean work, almost no trace. The board is furious. Mr. Sterling flew back from Europe overnight. He’s in the emergency meeting right now.” Mr. Sterling? Arthur Sterling, one of the company’s founders. A brilliant, old-school engineer with actual vision. His presence changed the equation. Chloe added one more thing. “And Ava… last night… I saw Greg Peterson. He was still at his desk when I left, acting really weird. This morning he looks like hell. Dark circles under his eyes, the whole nine yards.” I hung up, my fingers already flying across the keyboard. I bypassed the standard network protocols and used a private security tunnel I’d built years ago, slipping into the company’s backend server logs undetected. The records here were far more complete than anything the security team could see. And there it was. Buried deep in the log files were several entries that had been deliberately overwritten and deleted. I spent a few minutes reconstructing the fragmented data. An unfamiliar IP address had logged in for a brief period at 10:07 p.m. last night. But the pattern of the IP… I knew it instantly. It wasn’t an external hacker. It was an internal, temporary network port, one set up to facilitate data transfers with specific third-party vendors. Fewer than five people had access to that port. And one of them was Marcus Cole. The final pieces clicked into place. This wasn’t a hack. It was an inside job, a carefully staged heist. And I was the sacrifice they planned to offer up. I shut my laptop and stood, looking at my reflection in the dark screen. Sharp eyes, immaculate makeup, a warrior’s calm. It was time. Time to go meet my executioners.

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Katherine was drunk when she got home, pushing me down on the bed and kissing me with an urgency I hadn’t felt from her in years. Anything resembling a sex life between us had died a long time ago. Ever since the company went public, she was barely ever home. So this sudden heat caught me off guard, and I let myself get lost in it. But just as I was about to lose control, she pulled me in tight, her voice a desperate whisper against my ear, “Oh, Caleb…” A bomb went off in my head. For her, the fire was instantly out. She rolled off me, her back to me as she sat on the edge of the bed. The bedroom was dark, the only light a pale wash from the streetlamp outside. Katherine smoked a whole cigarette in silence. When she finally stubbed it out, her voice was flat and hollow in the dark. “Leo, let’s get a divorce.” “Caleb doesn’t care about my money,” she said, her voice devoid of emotion. “He just wants to make it official. I owe him that.” 1 We had been together for eleven years, from college to this cold, dark bedroom. To the outside world, Katherine was the perfect wife: a brilliant CEO, a loving partner, a dedicated mother. Before tonight, the thought of her cheating had never even crossed my mind. A heavy stone settled in my chest, making it hard to breathe. “When was the first time?” I asked, my voice a dry rasp. Moonlight, as cold as frost, sliced through the blinds and fell across her bare shoulders. She flinched, almost imperceptibly. “Two years ago. That business trip to Chicago.” I remembered that trip. She was there to save a massive contract, the one that would make or break the company. The pressure on her had been immense. “I was at my lowest point,” she continued, her voice still a monotone. “And Caleb just… showed up at my hotel room door. He was soaked from the rain, like this lost, pathetic puppy. He just collapsed into my arms.” I stared at the black ceiling, silent tears tracing paths down my temples and into my hair. What was I doing that night? Her mother had slipped in the shower and broken her leg. I’d gotten the call from the ER, dropped our daughter Lily at my dad’s place, and rushed to the hospital to be with her. I didn’t tell Katherine. I didn’t want to add to her stress. I even found a moment between talking to doctors to send her a text. Don’t lose hope, babe. You’ve got this. I believe in you. No matter what happens, Lily and I are always here for you. We can sell the house and use the money for the company if we have to. As long as the three of us are together, that’s all that matters. It was the first time she never replied. I was naive. I told myself she was exhausted, that she’d fallen asleep. But she was in another man’s bed. Tangled in his sheets. That was two years ago. Two years. Katherine had hidden it so well. Just last month, we celebrated our seventh wedding anniversary. In front of our entire family, she handed me a bouquet of roses and a gold watch. “Honey, thank you for taking care of everything at home all these years,” she’d said, her voice warm. “Happy anniversary.” She had pulled Lily and me into a hug. My dad insisted on taking a picture of the three of us. That photo is still pinned to the top of my social media profile. The silence in the room was crushing, a tide of pressure building around me. “Katherine,” I said, the words tasting like ash. “If you weren’t a CEO with a nine-figure net worth, would that boy still be with you?” She didn’t answer right away. Outside, the wind picked up, and a flash of lightning briefly illuminated the room. In that stark, momentary light, her face was a mask. “Leo, I know you love me,” she finally said, her tone unnervingly calm. “But Caleb isn’t like that. He’s not after money. He’s been with me for two years with no titles, no promises. He’s been through so much shame for me. I can’t betray his trust.” So you’ll betray mine instead? Back when we started in San Francisco, we were so broke we crammed ourselves into a basement studio apartment, less than two hundred square feet. We lived there for three years. No heat in the winter, no AC in the suffocating summer. I’d wake up some nights with cockroaches crawling on my arm. I thought our love could conquer anything. Turns out, it just fizzles out. “Did you forget, Katherine?” My voice cracked. “When we got married, you cried and swore you’d love me for the rest of your life.” She paused, considering my words as if they were a line item in a budget. “We were young, Leo,” she said, a weary sigh in her voice. “We mistook the thrill of being young and struggling together for love.” “We’re thirty now.” “And after meeting Caleb, I finally understand what real love feels like.” I thought I would scream. I thought I would lunge across the bed, grab her by the collar, and shake the lies out of her. Instead, a strange, horrifying calm washed over me. Tears burned in my eyes, but I let out a choked, bitter laugh. On the nightstand, Katherine’s phone lit up, the screen a harsh glare in the darkness. The silence was so absolute that I could hear the tinny, cloying voice from the speaker. “I know I’m not supposed to call when you’re home, Kat… but there’s a thunderstorm, and I’m really, really scared…” The pressure in my chest was suffocating me. Katherine’s voice, however, softened into a gentle coo. “It’s okay, baby. I just told him.” “You just pull the covers up tight and wait for me. I’m on my way.” 2 It was two in the morning. I was sitting in Katherine’s home office. She always backed up her chat histories, terrified of losing a single message from an important client. Luckily, her laptop password hadn’t changed. It was still Lily’s birthday. I scrolled through her messages with Caleb. 26,893 of them. Last week: Caleb: Babe, I made dinner tonight! It’s my first time ever cooking, I learned just for you. You have to tell me I’m a good boy. Katherine: You don’t have to do things like that to please me, Caleb. You’re perfect just the way you are. Katherine: I love you for your innocence, for that beautiful soul. Caleb sent a string of crying emojis. Caleb: omg Kat you’re going to spoil me. Katherine: My man, my rules. I’ll spoil you all I want. My hand trembled as I scrolled further back. Last month. The day of our seventh wedding anniversary. She had slept with him that afternoon. She was texting him on the drive home to our family dinner. Katherine: It still looks a little red. Make sure you put some more cream on it tonight, okay? Be good. Caleb sent the blushing emoji. Caleb: I know, you worry too much. Caleb: It’s your fault anyway. I’m never letting you do that again. Caleb: But Kat… can you promise me you won’t let him touch you? The thought of you kissing him… it literally feels like my heart is breaking. Katherine: Little fool. After eight rounds with you this afternoon? I’m not made of steel. I kept scrolling, my stomach churning. Finally, I found it. The first messages after they slept together, two years ago. He wasn’t calling her Kat back then. Caleb: Ms. Reyes, you don’t have to feel responsible for last night. I wanted it to happen. Caleb: I know you were just drunk and upset. I get it. Just having that one night with you was more than enough for me. Caleb: But I wanted you to know. You were my first. I could see Katherine’s conflict in the timestamps. She didn’t reply until the dead of night. Katherine: The wine had nothing to do with it. Katherine: I kissed you because I couldn’t stop myself. I felt sick. I couldn’t read anymore. I backed up their entire chat history to a thumb drive. Then I hugged myself, curling into a ball in her expensive leather office chair, a strangled sob caught in my throat. I wanted to howl, but I forced it down, terrified of waking Lily in the next room. My heart felt like it was being shredded by a million tiny blades. For so many years, Katherine had been the center of my universe. The thought of cutting her out, just like that… it was an agony I couldn’t have imagined. Once the initial wave of grief passed, a cold calm took its place. I called my mother in London. It was evening there, eight hours behind us. “Mom,” I said, my voice steady. “Katherine is cheating on me. We’re getting a divorce.” “I need you to pull your investment from her company.”

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After falling for a guy with nothing to his name, I hid the fact that I was an heiress. I wanted to build a life with him, starting from the ground up, working my way up from the bottom right beside him. But on the eve of our wedding, I walked in on him with his boss. “That woman, Jenna… she’s plain and broke. She’s not worth a single hair on your head, Melissa.” “I’m counting on you to help me climb the ladder.” A sharp pain bloomed in my palm as my nails dug into my skin, the only thing stopping me from throwing the door open and confronting them. I tore the ten-million-dollar contract in my hands to shreds, then sent a text to my father. “I’m coming home. I’ll do the merger.” 1 The lights in our small walk-up apartment were still on. When Caleb pushed the door open, he found me sitting on the sofa. “Jenna? You’re still up?” He slipped off his jacket, his voice gentle, as if nothing was wrong. As if the world hadn’t just shattered. I looked up, my eyes meeting his. There, on the collar of his shirt, was a tell-tale crimson stain. A smear of lipstick. “Working late?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. He nodded, tossing his jacket onto the sofa and moving in to hug me. “Yeah, project’s on a tight deadline. I’m exhausted.” The cloying, expensive perfume I knew belonged to Melissa Vance clung to him, and a wave of nausea washed over me. I shifted away, forcing a brittle smile. “I’m a little tired myself.” I hesitated, then decided to give him one last chance. A final test. “Caleb, what do you think of me?” His expression froze for a fraction of a second before he stretched his lips into a stiff smile. “You’re the best person in the world, of course. You never looked down on me for being poor. You’ve always taken care of me.” My fingertips trembled. I scoffed silently. “Is that all?” His gaze flickered between me and the clock on the wall, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. “Of course not. I love you more than anything.” “And what if someone better came along?” I pressed, my voice unyielding. “Someone with money? Someone who could give you a future?” “Did you hear some rumor?” he asked, a hint of panic in his voice. “We’re about to get married, Jenna. I would never want anyone else.” I stared at him, my eyes brimming with a mockery he couldn’t see. “You’re sure?” “Of course!” He grabbed my hand. His palm was damp, but his tone was painfully sincere. “I’ve wanted to marry you for so long. I just couldn’t afford it before.” He was always like this—a master of feigned sincerity. But beneath the surface… ha. I pulled my hand away and stood up, my voice turning to ice. “What about Melissa Vance?” The smile vanished from his face. “What about her?” “Nothing,” I said, the single word heavy with all my disappointment. “Get some sleep.” I gave him a chance. He didn’t take it. So be it. 2 The next morning, I gathered all my documents and went straight to the office. The glass door to Human Resources reflected the sterile, fluorescent glow of the office. When I pushed it open, Melissa Vance was leaning against a desk, her long, crimson nails tapping against a file. She was poured into a tight black dress, the gold senior executive pin on her lapel catching the light. “Well, well. If it isn’t our star assistant, Jenna,” she drawled, putting a venomous emphasis on the word assistant. “You’re in early. Here to quit?” The HR manager, a kind older woman named Kate, stood awkwardly to the side, looking like she wanted to say something but couldn’t. I calmly placed my resignation letter on the desk. “As a matter of fact, yes. I’d like it processed as soon as possible.” Melissa’s hand shot out, pressing down on the paper. “What’s the rush?” She leaned closer, her perfume making my temples throb. “You know, Caleb was at my place last night. We were ‘working’ very late.” She ran a suggestive finger over a faint red mark on her neck, her voice dripping with provocation. “Young men have so much… stamina.” My nails dug deeper into my palm. Just then, the door swung open and Caleb rushed in, a stack of files in his arms. “Melissa, here are the reports you—” His voice died in his throat. Three pairs of eyes met in the suffocating silence. Caleb’s tie was crooked, and another faint lipstick smear stained his collar. The sight of me sent a jolt of panic across his face. “Jenna? What are you doing here?” “Just taking care of some business with Ms. Vance,” I said, my voice as sharp as broken glass. “After all, you seem to enjoy how she… takes care of business, don’t you?” Melissa let out a short, sharp laugh and patted Caleb’s shoulder intimately. “Your girlfriend is a real character.” She turned back to me, her lips curling into a sneer. “Jenna, you’re just a broke kid with a useless degree. Nobody’s going to hire you after you leave here. Isn’t that right, our future director?” Caleb just stood there, his lips moving silently. Finally, he lowered his head and started shuffling the perfectly organized stack of papers. His silence was more damning than any confession. I snatched my signed departure form. As I turned to leave, I gave Caleb one last look. “You know, I was packing up my things yesterday and found that necklace you gave me.” His head shot up. I smiled, a cold, cutting thing. “It’s a fake.” Walking out of the building, the sky was a heavy, oppressive gray. I took a deep breath and dialed my father’s number. “Dad, I quit. I’ll be home tomorrow.” On the other end, I could hear the relief in his voice. “Good. Just come home.” I hung up and glanced back at the office tower where I’d wasted three years of my life. My heart was a block of ice. Back in the apartment, the fluorescent lights buzzed, casting a sickly white glow. Caleb followed me in as I shoved the last of my sweaters into a suitcase. “Jenna, don’t be like this!” he pleaded, grabbing my wrist. There was real fear in his voice now. “There’s nothing going on between me and Melissa! She’s just… you know, very forward.” I wrenched my arm free and pulled a velvet box from a drawer. Inside lay the “gold” necklace he’d supposedly saved up three months’ salary to buy. I threw it into the trash can. The clatter of cheap metal was deafening. “Forward enough to leave hickeys on your neck? Forward enough that you’ve worn the same shirt for three days straight?” I pointed to the laundry rack on the balcony, closing my eyes against the sting of tears. “Caleb, every single day when I washed your shirt, all I could smell was her perfume!” The color drained from his face. “Let me explain.” “Explain what?” I shot back, my voice dripping with scorn. “Explain how you told her in the conference room that I was plain and poor? Or explain how you threw away your dignity for a promotion?” A sudden downpour started outside, raindrops lashing against the window like a thousand tiny slaps. Caleb sank onto the edge of the bed, defeated. “I know I’m not good enough for you,” he mumbled, his voice a mix of sorrow and something uglier—a calculated threat. “But this promotion is everything to me. How am I supposed to marry you without it?” It felt like ants were crawling under my skin. I zipped up my suitcase. The sound of the metal teeth locking together felt like an ending. “Believe whatever you want.” With that, I turned and walked to the door. “Where are you going?” he scrambled up, blocking my way. “Business trip,” I lied, my heart cold. “Last-minute thing. I’ll be gone a week.” He opened his mouth, then closed it, letting out a heavy sigh. “Okay. Be safe. Come back soon.” I didn’t answer. I just pulled my suitcase behind me and walked out of that apartment, and out of that life, for good. 3 The day after I returned home, my father arranged for me to meet my intended. In the sun-drenched parlor of the Sinclair Estate, the front doors swung open, and the Earl Grey tea I was sipping caught in my throat. The man standing there was impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, a wry smile playing on his lips. It was my childhood rival, the one person I could never stand. “Julian Croft! What are you doing here?” I slammed my cup down, the clatter startling a black cat outside the window. “Disappointed to see me?” Julian asked, slowly polishing his gold-rimmed glasses. His voice was as infuriating as I remembered. “I heard the great Jenna Sinclair ran away from home for love. I came back just to see the show.” The lenses of his glasses caught the light, and his eyes curved into a dangerous arc. “I didn’t expect to find a drowned rat.” I hurled a silk cushion at him, my face flushing with anger. “You’re the rat!” He caught it effortlessly, his playful demeanor suddenly vanishing. “I heard the guy was sleeping with his boss.” When I didn’t answer, he let out a short, harsh laugh. “I told you. The first thing a man like that throws away when he gets a taste of money is his conscience.” “What do you know!” I shot up from my seat, ready to defend… what? I didn’t even know anymore. “At least he—” “At least he what?” Julian stood too, his tall frame casting a shadow over me. “Cooked you soup when you had a cold? Made you breakfast?” He reached out, his fingers closing around my chin, forcing me to meet his searching gaze. “Jenna, when did you get so cheap?” I slapped his hand away, but his next words stopped me cold. “So, what do you say? Want to marry me?” I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “Why not?” he pressed. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I could see my father and his, old Mr. Croft, chatting amiably in the garden. I stared at the diamond tie pin on Julian’s tie and crossed my arms. “I want the wedding of the century. I want every media outlet there.” He raised an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his face. “And?” I met his gaze, my voice steady and cold as steel. “And on my wedding day, I want Caleb to watch, in person, as Melissa Vance’s company goes bankrupt.” Julian threw his head back and laughed, a rich, genuine sound that filled the room. He reached out and ruffled my hair. “Now that’s the Jenna Sinclair I know.” 4 The wedding was set for the following week, and it was an affair of breathtaking extravagance. I stood in the dressing room, my hands clammy in the couture gown. Julian pushed the door open and saw my nerves. “Having second thoughts?” he teased. I shot him a glare. “Shut up.” He chuckled, stepping forward to adjust my veil. “Relax. I’m here. No one will dare laugh at you.” I paused, and for a fleeting moment, I thought that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t so bad after all. On the guest registry, Caleb’s name was crammed into a corner. As Melissa’s “plus-one,” he’d been seated at an extra table in the very back. I could see him fawning over her, pouring champagne, his eyes darting hungrily toward the lavish gift tables. Then, the wedding march began. As I walked down the aisle on my father’s arm, I saw Caleb’s back go rigid out of the corner of my eye. The champagne flute in his hand tipped, spilling red wine all over Melissa’s dress. “What the hell are you doing?” Her shriek turned a few heads. But Caleb didn’t hear her. He was staring, transfixed, at the diamond-encrusted belt on my wedding gown. The one he’d once said he could never afford in a thousand lifetimes. “And now, the bride and groom will exchange rings,” the officiant announced. Julian deliberately lifted my left hand high, letting the ten-carat pink diamond catch the spotlights and explode with light. “You may now kiss your bride.” The second the words were spoken, Julian lifted my veil and his lips met mine. The hall erupted in applause. In my peripheral vision, I saw Caleb stumble forward, trying to push through the crowd, only to be blocked by security. “Jenna!” he cried out, his voice raw with anguish. The orchestra swelled, perfectly timed, drowning him out. Julian wrapped an arm around my waist, leaning in to whisper in my ear, “Care for a bit more drama?” Before I could answer, he turned back to the microphone. “Thank you all for coming. We’d especially like to thank my wife’s former colleagues for joining us.” The spotlight operator took the cue, swinging the beam directly onto Caleb’s pale, horrified face. He nervously clutched the lapels of his cheap suit, his jaw tight with rage. “Jenna, how could you marry someone else? Was it just for the money?!” Julian let out a cold laugh, his voice laced with contempt. “Money? Mr. Evans, I think you’re confusing my wife with yourself.” He paused for effect. “You see, you seem to be under the impression that you were dating a simple assistant.” The spotlight seemed to burn brighter. “My wife… is Jenna Sinclair. Heiress to the Sinclair Corporation.”

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On our wedding day, en route to the hotel, my fiancé Bryan Croft, a crisis negotiator, slammed the limo’s brakes for a woman about to jump off a bridge. I grabbed his arm. “It’s our wedding day. You are not going.” He gave me a placating smile. “A life is on the line. I can’t just stand by.” He was out of the car before finishing. My face turned to ice. “If you save her, we are canceling the wedding.” He stared in disbelief. “Elara, you’re the kindest person I know. How can you say something so cruel?” My gaze drifted to the woman’s slightly swollen belly. My voice was unwavering. “Save her, or marry me. You can’t have both.” 1 The sudden stop of the lead limo caused a chain reaction, and the entire wedding procession ground to a halt behind us. Family and friends began to spill out of the cars, confused. “What’s going on? Why have we stopped?” Bryan’s expression darkened. “That woman on the railing… I think she’s going to jump.” He gestured vaguely toward the bridge. “I want to help, but Elara won’t let me. She’s threatening to call off the wedding.” A collective gasp went through the small crowd. All eyes followed his gesture. The woman on the railing had noticed the commotion. She turned, her eyes red-rimmed with tears, and her hand instinctively went to her stomach. My maid of honor, Krista, tried to smooth things over. “Bryan, maybe you should just get back in the car with Elara. Someone else can help her.” My best friend since childhood pulled out her phone, scowling. “Seriously, this isn’t that complicated. You see something like this, you call 911.” She started dialing as she walked toward the bridge. She’d only taken two steps when the woman in white scrambled to her feet, her voice a panicked shriek. “Don’t call the police! And don’t come any closer! One more step and I’ll jump!” The wind coming off the river was strong, whipping her dress around her legs. Standing, she looked fragile, her whole body trembling against the force of the gusts. The sight seemed to flip a switch in Bryan. He shot me a look of pure exasperation and strode forward, grabbing Krista’s arm. His voice was sharp, professional. “Don’t go any further. You’ll agitate her.” I lifted the heavy skirt of my wedding gown and stepped out of the limo, walking deliberately until I stood directly in his path. “So you’ve made your choice, then? You’re going to save her.” Bryan looked down at me, his patience clearly wearing thin. Still, he took my hand, his voice a low plea. “Elara, please, just try to understand. This is what I do. I’m a negotiator. How can I see this and just walk away? Is our wedding really more important than a human life?” He glanced back at the woman on the railing as he said it. His words seemed to sway our guests. “Elara, honey, he has a point. It won’t take long.” “That’s right, dear. To save a life is a great blessing.” “Just let him talk to the poor girl. Look, I think she’s pregnant. She must be in a terrible state.” As they all murmured their support for him, my eyes never left his. When they fell silent, I spoke, my voice dangerously quiet. “Bryan. Answer my question.” His jaw tightened. For a moment, he seemed to be wrestling with himself. Then, he let go of my hand and stepped past me. He stopped a few feet away, his expression softening as he turned his focus entirely to the woman on the bridge. “We won’t come any closer,” he said, his voice calm and soothing. “Just take a breath. Don’t panic.” The woman stared at him, her eyes wide. As his words washed over her, a fresh wave of tears broke free and streamed down her cheeks. “Stay away from me! All of you…” It was the same demand, but her voice had lost its edge, cracking with a sorrow that sounded almost like a plea. Bryan’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. He took a small, careful step forward. “Okay, we’ll stay back,” he cooed. “Just calm down… calm down…” The woman’s frantic energy did seem to recede, but her tears fell faster. Seeing this, I reached into my clutch and pulled out my phone. “Hi, Mom. Are you at the hotel yet? Good. I need you to tell the guests the wedding is off.” 2 A collective gasp rippled through the onlookers. Until that moment, they had probably all thought my threat was just an empty, emotional outburst from a stressed-out bride. My actually making the call proved them wrong. Bryan, who had been laser-focused on the woman, froze. He whipped his head around to look at me. “Elara?” I held the phone in one hand and the hem of my dress in the other, my face an unreadable mask. “What is it?” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Do you have to be so unreasonable?” I took a step back. “If this is unreasonable to you, then so be it. But it’s done. I’ve already told my parents to cancel.” I offered him a thin, humorless smile. “You’re free now, Bryan. You can go be the hero.” Just then, the woman on the railing wiped her eyes. Her face was ashen, her voice a raw, broken whisper. “I’m sorry… It’s all my fault that you’re fighting.” She looked at me, her eyes begging. “Please, miss, don’t fight with your husband. You should go. Go get married. They say you should never come between a man and his wife… If I ruined your wedding, I… I couldn’t live with myself…” Her voice broke, and the tears started anew, like pearls spilling from a broken string. She looked down, gently stroking her swollen belly. “My life is worthless anyway. No one’s ever cared about me.” At that, Bryan’s brow furrowed in concern. He edged another cautious step closer. “Don’t say that,” he said, his voice softening into the gentle, persuasive tone of his profession. “Someone in this world loves you. You can’t give up on yourself.” His voice grew even more tender. “You can’t be this pessimistic. You can’t just throw your life away.” Bystanders who had gathered began to chime in. “Yeah, kid, you’re too young for this. Don’t do anything you’ll regret.” Meanwhile, our family and friends were whispering amongst themselves. “I don’t know who’s right or wrong here.” “A wedding is once in a lifetime, but I think Bryan’s doing the right thing.” “I agree. Elara is being a little too selfish right now.” Bryan let out a heavy sigh. “Everyone, please, just be quiet for a minute.” He looked at me again. “Elara, this isn’t you. What is going on today? This woman is clearly at the end of her rope. Are we really just going to watch her jump?” I stared back at him, my gaze unwavering. “Bryan, don’t you know exactly why I’m acting this way?” Before he could answer, his best man, Leo, stepped forward. “Elara, maybe the rest of us don’t know what’s going on, but I was in the front seat. I saw the whole thing. You’ve been making a scene from the very beginning. All Bryan wants to do is help someone. What’s so wrong with that?” I glanced at the now-silent Bryan and let out a cold laugh. “You’re right. He’s a saint. A good Samaritan. And I’m a petty, vicious shrew. We’re clearly not meant to be.” “So I’m calling it off. Now he can go be the hero without any distractions. What’s the problem?” I shifted my gaze to the crying woman on the railing. “Besides, if she really wanted to die, she wouldn’t have been sitting there for so long. Don’t you think she’s being a little dramatic?” My words hit her like a physical blow. The last bit of color drained from her face. She bit her lip, her sobs turning into ragged gasps. “Fine! Fine… I’ll die. I’ll just die…” She gave Bryan one last, long, meaningful look, then turned without another moment’s hesitation. She clenched her fists and prepared to leap into the churning water below. “Don’t!” 3 The word was torn from Bryan’s throat, a raw, desperate shout. He lunged toward the railing, his hand outstretched, but he was too late. The woman’s body plummeted into the river, where she began to thrash in the cold, dark water. Without a second thought, Bryan shrugged off his tuxedo jacket and dove in after her. I remained on the bridge, watching the scene unfold with an unnerving calm, as if the man who had just risked his life wasn’t the man I was supposed to marry. If anyone had been on my side before, my last comment had obliterated that support. I was now the villain of the story. The crowd of onlookers turned on me, their whispers turning into outright accusations. Someone shoved a phone in my face, the camera recording. Another person had started a live stream. “You won’t believe the ice queen I’m seeing right now!” the streamer narrated excitedly. “This woman is beautiful, but she’s pure evil. Her husband wanted to save a suicidal woman, and she forbid him! Then she taunted the poor girl until she jumped! She’s basically a murderer!” A chorus of agreement rose from the crowd. “That’s right! She’s a killer!” “Threatening to cancel the wedding… a good man like that doesn’t deserve a monster like her!” “He’d be miserable if he married that witch!” I ignored them all. The river was frigid, but Bryan was a strong swimmer. He reached the woman quickly and pulled her back to the bank. They were both soaked and shivering, a pathetic sight. Her white dress was now transparent, and Bryan, ever the gentleman, immediately draped his jacket over her shoulders. “Here, I’ll take you to the hospital.” He didn’t even look at me. He put his arm around the woman and started to lead her toward the wedding limo. It was only then that I moved, stepping in front of them. “Wait.” Bryan, who had been struggling to control his temper, finally snapped. His face was dark with rage. “Elara, you already pushed her to this. What more do you want?” The last few words were practically a roar. In the year and a half we’d been together, I had never seen him lose control like this. I glanced at the woman huddled under his arm. “Relax. I’m not here to stop your heroic rescue. You can take her to the hospital. But first, you’re coming to the hotel with me.” Bryan’s jaw was a hard line. “Elara, you’ve gone too far.” The crowd’s jeers grew louder. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Was she raised by wolves?” I turned to the most vocal of the hecklers and pointed to the wedding videographer standing behind me. “Just so you know, my camera crew is recording every word you say. If you want to get sued for slander, please, keep talking.” That shut them up. I turned back to Bryan. “The wedding is off. You will come with me to the hotel and we will finalize the dissolution of this arrangement, right now.” This time, even my best friend looked at me with confusion. “Elara, are you sure…?” “Don’t try to talk me out of it. This is not up for discussion.” In the end, he came with me. When we arrived at the hotel, it was clear my parents hadn’t had a chance to make the announcement. The grand ballroom was still filled with hundreds of guests. I walked straight to the stage, my dress trailing behind me, and took the microphone. “Since everyone is here,” I announced, my voice ringing through the silent room, “I won’t waste any time. The wedding between Bryan Croft and myself is officially canceled.” “And since you are all here as our witnesses, we will handle the logistics of our separation right now. We will be returning all gifts, dowries, and family offerings on the spot.” A stunned silence fell over the massive room. Our parents rushed toward the stage. “Elara, what on earth is going on?” A few relatives who had been at the bridge began to whisper a heavily embellished version of the story, and a new wave of condemnation washed over me. I even noticed the live-streamers from the bridge had followed us, their phones still held high. “She threatened me,” one of them said smugly to her phone’s camera. “But I’m not scared. I’m going to make sure this woman is the most hated person in the country by tonight.” I ignored her and pulled out a pen and paper from my clutch, beginning to list all the financial and material items exchanged between our families. “Bryan, come and look at this. If there are no objections, sign it, and we can start the exchange.” The woman in white was still clinging to Bryan’s arm, her sobs a constant, pitiful backdrop. “I’m sorry… It’s all my fault…” Bryan’s mother, who had been pleading with me to calm down, heard the woman’s voice and her head snapped around. The moment she saw her, Mrs. Croft’s breath hitched. She stormed over to Bryan and slapped him, hard, across the face. “You… you ungrateful son! What is this madness on your wedding day?” She then turned back to me, her hands outstretched. “Elara, please…” I silently held out the list to Bryan. “Hurry up.” It was only then that he seemed to realize I was completely serious. This was not a negotiation. He looked up at me. “Elara…” Seeing him hesitate, I unlocked my phone, opened a popular social media app, and held a particular post up for him to see. “My patience is wearing thin, Bryan. And I am not a fool. Either you explain everything to our families, or I will.” His face went white as he read the screen, his lips beginning to tremble. 4 A few of the closer relatives with sharp eyes saw the screen and their expressions shifted instantly. Bryan looked like he couldn’t breathe. He finally met my gaze. “Elara, do you have to do this? We’ve been good together, haven’t we?” I clutched my phone, my heart a frozen lump in my chest. “Yes. I have to do this. After what happened today, you can’t possibly think there’s any coming back from this, can you?” He looked away, his hand slowly reaching out to take the list from me. He stared down at it, but he didn’t speak. Meanwhile, the live-streamers were still providing their running commentary. “Look at her! The evil bride is forcing the groom to annul the marriage right here, right now!” “I’m telling you, after today, no one will ever marry this woman!” “I agree! The whole country will know what a monster she is. Who would want her?” My mother stood behind me, tugging at my sleeve. “Sweetheart, you haven’t told me why you’re doing this. You know your father and I will support any decision you make, but you have to give us a reason.” I patted her hand. “Don’t worry, Mom. Just wait. You’ll understand in a minute.” As I was speaking to my mother, Mrs. Croft had finally lost her composure. She marched forward, yanked the woman in white away from her son, and began slapping her, again and again, before starting to kick and shove her. “Stella Reed, you little viper! Why can’t you just leave us alone? Is our family indebted to you and your mother from a past life? Are you two determined to haunt us until we’re all miserable?!” The woman, Stella, staggered under the blows, but she didn’t say a word, only covering her face and crying softly. At this point, even the slowest person in the room knew something was deeply wrong. The judgmental whispers died down. Even the live-streamers paused, bewildered. “Whoa… what is happening?” one of them muttered. “This is big. This is really big.” She moved closer with her phone. Bryan rushed to Stella’s defense, shielding her with his body. “Mom! Calm down!” Mrs. Croft’s face was flush with rage. “Calm down? You’re telling me to calm down? I told you, I made you promise you would break it off with this little tramp for good! You promised me! And what did you do? You brought her here, to your wedding! Are you trying to kill me?” Bryan’s face was grim. “Mom, it’s not what you think!” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “I…” He opened his mouth, but no explanation came. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Don’t bother, Bryan. You can’t think of a good lie. I don’t want to get involved in your family’s drama. All I want is to get this over with while our family and friends are here to witness it. Then we can go our separate ways.” Mrs. Croft tried one last time. “Elara, please, give him another chance. You’re the only daughter-in-law I will ever accept…” I looked at her with a flicker of pity. “Mrs. Croft, you are a good woman. But your son and I were not meant to be.” Our cryptic exchange only fueled the speculation in the room. “What is going on? It looks like Bryan has known this woman for a long time.” “Is she an ex-girlfriend the family doesn’t approve of?” “I think it’s more complicated than that.” Seeing Bryan still standing there in silence, I held up my phone again. “Since everyone is so curious, why don’t I clear things up?”

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My pen hovered over a ten-million-dollar contract. Across the table, Carter Sterling, the “Crown Prince of New York Real Estate,” watched me, surrounded by the press. Suddenly, the doors burst open. A little girl, his three-year-old daughter, ran in, sobbing. She pointed a trembling finger at her father. “Daddy,” she wailed, her voice piercing the silence. “Mommy’s gone bad.” A collective gasp rippled through the reporters. Carter froze, his pen still in his hand. The little girl wasn’t finished. She pointed a small, trembling finger directly at me. “And you’re still in here flirting with your canary!” My back went ramrod straight. My hand, instead of reaching for the pen, shot to my purse for my phone. What? Who’s gone bad? My God, someone call 911. Wait a second. Did she say… canary? At me? Nobody sent me the memo. And I sure as hell haven’t seen a check for any “services rendered.” … 1 Every jaw in that room, including my own, was on the floor. The reporters, sensing blood in the water, went into a feeding frenzy. Cameras swiveled, flashes erupted, capturing the three of us in a perfect, scandalous tableau: the powerful tycoon, the newly-crowned Best Actress, and the little girl who couldn’t possibly know how to lie. Carter Sterling pinched the bridge of his nose, a deep weariness settling over his handsome features. “Please, everyone,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “She’s a child. Don’t take her words seriously. Ms. Monroe and I have a professional relationship, nothing more.” But the little girl’s sobs only grew louder, more heartbreaking. “Daddy, are you leaving us? Are you leaving me and Mommy?” she cried. “Mommy’s already dead—” Seeing my thumb hovering over the 9-1-1 on my phone screen, Carter’s frown deepened. He was trapped. With a sigh that seemed to drain the life from him, he made a decision. He was going to have to take us all home to see the “bad” Mrs. Sterling for ourselves. The Sterling residence was a palatial townhouse on the Upper East Side. Carter swept through the rooms, calling for his wife, Isabelle, his voice echoing in the marble foyer. The press corps, a pack of well-dressed vultures, followed closely. I trailed behind, feeling like I’d wandered onto the wrong film set. I noticed the little girl, Lily, kept glancing nervously toward a heavy oak door at the end of the hall. “Mr. Sterling,” I said quietly. “Have you checked the master bathroom?” Recognition, or perhaps dread, flashed in his eyes. He didn’t answer, just strode to the door and threw it open. “Isabelle, how long are you going to keep this up?” he roared, his voice cracking like a whip. “Get out of the damn tub! Now!” The raw fury in his voice sent a shiver through the crowd. In an instant, they surged forward, cameras and microphones jostling for position to see into the bathroom. And there she was. Isabelle Sterling, dressed in a delicate white slip, lay motionless in a clawfoot tub filled with water the color of arterial blood. The crimson liquid stained her dress and lapped at her pale skin, creating a tableau that was both tragic and eerily beautiful. Lily started wailing beside me, a gut-wrenching, genuine cry of grief. “Mommy, don’t leave me! I’ll be good, I promise!” she sobbed. “I brought Daddy back from the bad lady, see? Please, just open your eyes!” She looked from the tub to me, her blue eyes filled with a pure, unadulterated hatred that was chilling to see in a child. Just as I was about to finally make the call to the police, Carter did something shocking. He reached into the tub and hauled Isabelle out of the water, her limp body dripping red all over the pristine white marble. “Stop it, Isabelle. Just stop,” he said, his voice flat. “There’s no smell of blood. This is that expensive red bath bomb you love so much.” A stunned silence fell over the room as the reporters slowly processed his words. “He’s right,” one of them whispered. “It doesn’t smell like anything.” “And there are no wounds on her body.” “So… why did the little girl say all that?” All eyes turned to Lily. The three-year-old’s face turned scarlet, and she stared intently at her own tiny shoes, suddenly unable to speak. Just as the silence became unbearable, Isabelle Sterling’s eyelids fluttered open. She blinked, feigning disorientation. “Carter? What… what are you doing here? What happened to me?” Carter stared down at his wife, the last ounce of patience draining from his face. “Are you done playing games, Isabelle?” he asked, his voice dangerously low. “Faking your own suicide, coaching our daughter to lie for you… What was the point of all this?” The performance dropped. Isabelle’s tears vanished, replaced by a venomous glare aimed at me. “It’s because of her!” she shrieked, pointing a dripping finger in my direction. “Don’t think I don’t know what’s going on. Stella Monroe, your new little canary. The Oscar you probably bought for her…” Her voice trailed off, her implication hanging poisonously in the air. “You haven’t been home in a week, Carter. All for her.” I was speechless. I’m a glamorous actress, yes, but I built my career on talent and grit. I earned that Oscar with my own blood, sweat, and tears. But in the twisted narrative Isabelle was weaving, my greatest professional achievement was suddenly tainted, reduced to a transactional perk. Isabelle’s face crumpled again, the tears returning on cue. “I… I just missed you,” she whimpered, her voice thick with manufactured pain. “I had to do something to get you to come home…” Carter closed his eyes, looking utterly defeated. “I told you, the company has been…” He didn’t get to finish. I’d had enough. “Mrs. Sterling,” I interrupted, my voice calm but firm. “I don’t know what misconception you have about me, but Mr. Sterling and I are business partners. Your husband’s company and my career goals align. That’s why they chose me as a brand ambassador. That is all.” Isabelle collapsed against Carter’s chest, a fragile, weeping damsel. “Stella, please,” she sobbed, her voice just loud enough for every microphone to pick it up. “Please, don’t destroy my family. I love my husband so much. Our daughter needs her father.” She took a shaky breath, delivering the killing blow. “That lace teddy you ‘accidentally’ left in the sofa cushions last week… I washed it for you. It’s clean. You can have it back. Just please, give me my husband back.” 2 Her words were a grenade tossed into the room. The reporters exploded. “Ms. Sterling, what is the nature of your relationship with Mr. Sterling?” “How far has this affair gone?” “Ms. Monroe, was your Oscar win influenced by your relationship with Carter Sterling?” Isabelle buried her face in her husband’s chest, but not before flashing me a triumphant, malicious smile from the corner of her eye. My mind went blank with rage. I’ve never even met this woman before today. Why was she fabricating this elaborate, career-destroying lie? My composure finally snapped. I whipped out my phone, hit record, and aimed the camera squarely at her face. “Mrs. Sterling,” I said, my voice dangerously even. “First, this is the first time I have ever set foot in your home. Second, I am the brand ambassador for a high-end lingerie line. And third, I have never had any private contact with your husband whatsoever. This entire conversation is being recorded. For your baseless and defamatory accusations, I will be contacting the police and instructing my legal team to file a lawsuit.” For the first time, a flicker of panic crossed Isabelle’s face. Her eyes darted to Carter, her default setting when in trouble. But this time, her husband didn’t rush to her defense. Instead, he peeled her off his chest and exposed her lie. “What the hell are you doing, Isabelle?” he demanded, his voice laced with a fury I hadn’t heard before. “We’ve known each other since we were kids, a textbook love story, yet you insist on telling everyone we have an arranged marriage and that I’m destined to cheat on you. Over the years, you’ve accused my assistant, our nanny, and even our chef. I fired them all, just to give you peace of mind. I met Stella Monroe for the first time today. What is this canary nonsense you’re spewing?” Isabelle’s lower lip trembled. “Then fire her, too,” she pleaded weakly. “Replace her with a male ambassador…” A bitter, humorless laugh escaped Carter’s lips. “She’s the face of our new line of sanitary pads, Isabelle. The artists have to test the product. How, exactly, do you suggest a man does that?” Cornered and defeated, Isabelle’s eyes scanned the room, searching for a lifeline. They landed on her daughter. “I wasn’t lying!” she declared, her voice rising with renewed conviction. “Lily saw it with her own eyes. She can prove that the lingerie belonged to Stella.” She shot a look at Lily, a silent, menacing command. If you don’t back me up, you’re in for it. The little girl began to tremble, fat tears rolling down her cheeks like pearls. “Mommy, I…” She hesitated, her small body shaking with fear and conflict. Finally, she took a deep breath. “The panties…” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Mommy put them there herself. And… and she told me what to say to Daddy…” Isabelle’s face contorted with rage. But her fury wasn’t directed at her husband, who had exposed her, or her daughter, who had told the truth. It was all aimed at me. “You!” she screamed, lunging toward me before a security guard caught her arm. “What did you do to my daughter? Why would she help a manipulative slut like you instead of her own mother?” I stood my ground, my face a mask of stone. “Mrs. Sterling, for the last time, I am not your husband’s mistress, and I have no interest in your marriage.” “Enough!” Carter’s roar silenced the room. “One more word, Isabelle, and we are getting a divorce.” He had his security team escort the reporters out. As I turned to leave, finally extricating myself from this nightmare, Isabelle lunged again, grabbing my arm in a surprisingly strong grip. “You’re not going anywhere!” she hissed. “You conniving bitch, is this your endgame? Getting Carter to divorce me?” Carter looked like he had aged ten years in the last hour. “What are you talking about? Our divorce would have nothing to do with Ms. Monroe…” Before he could finish, little Lily suddenly dropped to her knees in front of me, her hands clasped together as if in prayer. “Pretty lady,” she whispered, her eyes wide and pleading. “Please… please don’t take my daddy away.” 3 I knelt, gently helping her to her feet. I smoothed down her tangled curls, my heart aching for this poor, confused child. “Honey,” I asked softly, “who told you I was going to take your daddy away?” Lily glanced nervously at her mother before quickly dropping her gaze back to the floor. That was all the answer I needed. “Sweetheart, you don’t have to worry,” I assured her, giving her a small, reassuring smile. “I would never, ever take your father away from you.” I stood up, ready to tell Carter Sterling that he could keep his endorsement deal; no amount of money was worth this circus. But he spoke first. “One million dollars added to the endorsement fee,” he said, his voice clipped and businesslike. “And Sterling Corporation will donate ten thousand feminine hygiene products to girls in underserved communities, in your name.” The words died in my throat. Really, Mr. Sterling. The money is hardly the point. But that donation… that was a masterstroke. He then knelt down to his daughter’s level. “Lily, listen to me. I will always be your daddy. No one and nothing will ever change that. You understand?” Isabelle opened her mouth to protest, but a single, withering look from her husband silenced her. She settled for glaring at me with pure, unadulterated venom. After that day, I went to great lengths to ensure Carter Sterling and I were never in the same room. While he and his team had managed to kill the story with the press, a faint, ugly rumor still clung to me within the industry. Just as the whispers were starting to fade, Isabelle went live on Instagram. She appeared on screen looking pale and haggard, her voice raspy. “Stella Monroe,” she began, her eyes staring directly into the camera. “I’m begging you. Can you please just give me my husband back?” My name, alongside Carter’s, shot to the top of the trending topics. “My daughter, Lily, is sick,” Isabelle continued, her voice breaking. “She has a terrible fever. But I can’t reach Carter. He hasn’t been home in a week.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I know you’re the one keeping him away, but Lily misses him so much. Please…” As if on cue, she turned the camera to show Lily lying on a couch, her little face flushed bright red with fever. The child was barely conscious, mumbling “Daddy… Daddy…” over and over again. It was a heart-wrenching sight, and the comments section immediately exploded with vitriol directed at me. 【Figures. The whole Hollywood scene is rotten. Stella Monroe looks like an angel but she’s just another homewrecker.】 【I knew that story wasn’t fake! She’s totally sleeping with Carter Sterling…】 The tide of online hate was overwhelming. My fans tried to defend me, but their voices were drowned out in the flood. I was about to request to join her live stream and confront her when someone else beat me to it. Carter Sterling’s exhausted face appeared in a split screen. His voice was rough with fatigue. “Isabelle, what are you doing now?” he demanded. “I told you a week ago I was on a business trip overseas. What’s wrong with Lily?” He sounded genuinely alarmed. “Why haven’t you called the family doctor? Why is she so sick? I pay him a hundred thousand dollars a month to be on call!” Suddenly, a man’s trembling voice could be heard from off-screen on Isabelle’s side. “Mr… Mr. Sterling, it’s Dr. Evans. I’m here. But Mrs. Sterling won’t let me give Lily anything for the fever…” His voice dropped lower. “Sir, she’s been making her take a cold bath every hour. She said she’d fire anyone who tried to stop her…” 4 I knew Isabelle was unhinged, but I never imagined she was capable of this. Lily was only three years old. How could a mother be so cruel? Isabelle kicked wildly in the direction of the doctor’s voice, her eyes red-rimmed and frantic. “Carter, don’t listen to him! He’s lying! She’s obviously paid him off, too!” Tears streamed down her face, splashing onto her phone. “I know you’re not really working, Carter. You’re on vacation with Stella Monroe…” My fans were spamming the comments, pointing out that I was in the middle of a film shoot in the States and posting set photos as proof, but Isabelle was either ignoring them or too far gone to care. I couldn’t take it anymore. I hit the request to join. A second later, my face appeared on the live stream. “Seriously, lady, get a grip,” I snapped, not bothering to hide my anger. “Look at me. It’s nighttime here. I’m in the middle of the damn desert. There’s nothing but sand and stars. Now look at your husband. The sun is shining so brightly on his face it’s practically blinding. How could we possibly be together? For the love of God, keep me out of your weird, twisted games. I’m begging you!” The undeniable proof was like a slap in the face. Isabelle froze, looking like a deer caught in the headlights, utterly speechless. In that moment of stunned silence, Dr. Evans seized his chance. He darted into the frame, scooped up the feverish Lily, and rushed away. Other people—staff, presumably—grabbed a struggling Isabelle, who accidentally ended the live stream in her frantic attempts to break free. Suddenly, it was just me and Carter Sterling, staring at each other from opposite sides of the world through our phone screens. He looked grim, his face an emotionless mask. It wasn’t stoicism; it was the look of a man who had simply run out of options. “Stella,” he said, his voice heavy. “I am so sorry for this. I will make sure my wife apologizes to you.” Before I could tell him to absolutely not do that, he ended the call. A week later, I was on set for a Sterling Corp commercial shoot when Carter appeared, with Isabelle in tow. “Stella, I’m sorry,” she mumbled, refusing to meet my eyes. “I shouldn’t have gotten so jealous. I shouldn’t have said those things about you and my husband in front of all those people…” She sniffled, and the waterworks began anew. “It’s just… after I had Lily, I let myself go. It’s only natural for Carter to want something new and fresh.” I stared at her, dumbfounded. Was this supposed to be an apology? I felt a surge of rage so intense I was about to leap out of my chair and give her a piece of my mind. My agent, sensing disaster, grabbed my arm under the table. “The contract is signed,” she hissed. “Breaching it now will cost you millions.” The thought of that astronomical penalty was like a bucket of ice water. I clenched my fists and forced myself to sit back down. Carter was watching his wife, a look of profound disbelief on his face, as if he was seeing her for the first time. Isabelle, oblivious, continued her masterclass in non-apologies, each word a veiled insult designed to reinforce her narrative. Carter caught my eye and silently held up one finger. A moment later, his assistant approached me and discreetly slid a script across the table. It was for the lead role in a new film by one of the most acclaimed international directors working today. My vision cleared instantly. Suddenly, Isabelle didn’t seem like a demonic succubus anymore. She was my lucky charm. My golden goose. Carter then wrapped an arm around his wife, pulling her into an embrace. “Honey, I’m sorry,” he said, his voice softer now. “I’ve been neglecting you. I’m going to clear my schedule for the next month. We’re going to find you some help. A good doctor.” I learned later that Carter and Isabelle had been college sweethearts, a genuine love story that had culminated in a fairytale wedding. But after Lily was born, Carter’s work became all-consuming. Isabelle, alone and isolated, fell deep into the world of over-the-top romance novels, the lines between fiction and her own life blurring until she couldn’t tell them apart. She was a woman suffering from severe, untreated postpartum depression. Thinking of it that way, I found it hard to stay angry at her. After that incident, I avoided Carter Sterling like the plague. If I saw him at an event, I would execute a perfect 180-degree turn and walk in the opposite direction. But even with me keeping my distance, Isabelle wouldn’t let it go. 5 She refused to see a therapist, insisting there was nothing wrong with her. So Carter, the CEO of a multi-billion-dollar corporation, started working from home to be with her. Trapped in the house, Isabelle began a new campaign, mailing photos of me and Carter from the press conference to every tabloid and gossip blog in the country, hoping someone would expose my “true identity” as his canary. But no one took the bait. The photos clearly showed a professional, social distance between us. In fact, a few of the more reputable journalists contacted me directly to warn me about her. Undeterred, Isabelle upped the ante. She sent a new batch of photos to the seediest online gossip sites—blatantly photoshopped images of me and Carter in compromising positions. Her goal was to create a scandal so massive it would force him to terminate my contract. The plan backfired spectacularly. The photos ended up in Carter’s hands before they were ever published. The paparazzi, however, had a field day capturing the fallout. Photos of Carter, his face like thunder, were splashed across every entertainment site. The accompanying articles detailed their explosive argument, with Isabelle screaming that he was protecting me. “Right now, Stella is just your canary, but soon you’ll divorce me for her!” her voice was recorded saying. “You’re going to fall in love with her, I know it!” “I love you, Carter! I don’t want to lose you!” Carter’s fury was palpable even in the grainy photos. He was seen throwing a stack of files across his study. “I have told you a thousand times, my relationship with Stella Monroe is purely professional! It is not whatever twisted fantasy you’ve cooked up in your head!” he roared back. “And sending these obviously fake AI-generated pictures to gossip sites? Are you trying to destroy my reputation or hers?” For the first time, it seemed to dawn on Isabelle that she had gone too far. Seeing the genuine rage in her husband’s eyes, her bravado crumbled. “Fine… I’ll apologize to her, okay?” she stammered. I wanted nothing to do with another one of her “apologies.” I just wanted her to leave me alone. But, of course, her next apology was as unique and horrifying as the last. I was at the ribbon-cutting ceremony for a new Sterling Corporation manufacturing plant. As I stood on the stage, scissors in hand, Isabelle suddenly burst through the crowd, dragging Lily behind her. She threw herself to the ground at my feet, a dramatic, theatrical kneel. “Ms. Monroe, I know I was wrong!” she cried out for all the news cameras to hear. “Please, I’m begging you, don’t make Carter throw my daughter and me out on the street!” I was completely bewildered. Carter rushed forward, trying to pull her to her feet. “What are you talking about?” he gritted out. “You’re my wife! When have I ever said I was kicking you out?” Isabelle ignored him, her performance solely for the audience. “Carter, I know I shouldn’t have exposed your affair with Ms. Monroe,” she sobbed. “But I’m a mother! I have to think of my child’s future! Ms. Monroe,” she said, her voice dropping to a low, menacing tone, “I will not let you destroy my family.” She looked up, her eyes like a cornered snake’s, locking onto mine. In one swift movement, she sprang to her feet, produced a small, black pill from her pocket, and shoved it into my mouth. I tried to spit it out, but she clamped her hand over my mouth, forcing me to swallow. Chaos erupted. People screamed and rushed forward to pull her off me. But before they could reach us, Isabelle popped an identical pill into her own mouth. The crowd froze, terrified of what she might do next. Lily was screaming, lost in the sea of panicked adults. Carter’s face was a mask of pure fury. “Isabelle, what did you give her? What did you do? You said you were here to apologize!” A faint, triumphant smile played on her lips as tears streamed down her face. “You wouldn’t choose between me and your canary, Carter, so I’m making the choice for you,” she said, her voice breathy. “We both took the same pill. It’s a powerful aphrodisiac, and the only antidote is… a man. It takes effect in three minutes. The cure is in your jacket pocket.” Her eyes gleamed with a crazed light. “But there’s only one dose. Who do you save, Carter?” His hand shot to his pocket, pulling out a small vial. He stared at the single pill inside, his eyes wide with horror. “You have two minutes,” Isabelle taunted, her breathing already becoming labored. “This is insane, Isabelle! Give me the rest of the antidote, now!” Carter yelled, his voice tight with panic. My vision was already starting to blur at the edges. A wave of heat washed over me. Beside me, Isabelle let out a soft moan, but her smile was chillingly triumphant. “Time is running out, Carter.” Beads of sweat dripped down his forehead. “Thirty seconds.” “I choose!” Carter shouted, his voice raw. He lunged forward, holding the antidote out to…

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Adam’s executive assistant hinted that the new girl wasn’t playing by the rules. I looked down at the résumé. Sophie Bell. A scholarship student from a program the Shaw Foundation had sponsored. Four years ago, clutching her university acceptance letter, she’d shown up at our door with a small gift basket to express her gratitude. Adam had turned her away with a cold shoulder. The timid girl with the neat bangs had blossomed into a poised young woman. No wonder he’d been coming home later and later from “client dinners.” But she wasn’t the only one with a hidden agenda. Just when my search for proof had hit a dead end, Sophie came to me in private, her voice choked with tears. “Mrs. Shaw, please… you have to help me. I can’t be used like this anymore…” 1 The girl in the résumé photo was pretty, with quiet, clear eyes that made you want to like her. What a waste it would be if she were really shameless enough to be the other woman. A message from Adam popped up on my screen. [Honey, got a client dinner tonight. I’ll be late. Get some rest, and don’t you dare stay up late.] Before I could reply, a new friend request appeared. The note read: [Mrs. Shaw, this is Sophie Bell, Mr. Shaw’s assistant.] So it begins. I accepted the request. [Good evening, Mrs. Shaw. So sorry to bother you. Mr. Shaw asked me to add you. He said I should let you know when he’s on his way, in case he’s had too much to drink.] [Thank you, Sophie. I appreciate you looking after him.] [Not at all, it’s my job.] Eleven o’clock. My usual bedtime, but tonight my phone felt welded to my hand. I was waiting. And right on cue, a message arrived. [Mrs. Shaw, are you still awake? Mr. Shaw is quite drunk. The driver and I are bringing him home now.] [I’m up. Thank you for your trouble. I’ll be waiting.] I watched from the doorway as Sophie and our driver helped a stumbling, barely coherent Adam into the house. Her brow was furrowed in a tight line, her slight frame straining under his weight. The moment she saw me, her eyes lit up with relief. “Mrs. Shaw… Mr. Shaw’s had a bit too much.” I moved to take her place, feeling her exhale as I slid my arm around my husband’s waist. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll be heading out,” she said, her voice small. I nodded. “Wait,” I called out just as she reached the door. She paused, turning back with a questioning look. “It’s late. It’s not safe for a young woman to go home alone. Let the driver take you.” A pair of dimples appeared as she smiled. “Thank you, Mrs. Shaw.” Adam clung to me, his words a drunken slur against my ear. “Clara, my love… I love you so much…” “Why did you drink so much? You’re going to hate yourself in the morning,” I murmured, guiding him towards the stairs. “Got you… so I’m not worried…” I told my best friend, Mia, about it the next day. “Have I lost my touch?” I wondered aloud. “I just don’t get a homewrecker vibe from this girl.” Mia let out a short, cynical laugh. “Oh, honey. You’ve been living the good life for so long you’ve forgotten what you’re capable of. This is textbook. Men are all the same. Just you wait. Before you know it, she’ll be posting passive-aggressive digs at you on Instagram.” I sighed, a heavy weight settling in my chest. Mia’s own husband, Leo, had been getting a little too friendly with his own assistant lately. She hadn’t found any concrete proof, but the cold war between them had been raging for weeks. Would Adam be the same? The man who pursued me for three years in college, the man who knelt at my dying mother’s bedside and swore to love and protect me for the rest of his life… was he just another cliché? I steadied myself. Wallowing wouldn’t solve anything. But a week passed, and Sophie’s social media remained disappointingly normal. Sunsets at the waterfront, brunch with college friends. Nothing. Aside from being Adam’s shadow at work, there was nothing, at least on the surface, to raise an alarm. This only made Mia more pessimistic. “You’ve got an advanced model on your hands,” she said grimly. “These new-generation mistresses have evolved. They’re not the type to shove the evidence in your face anymore.” I checked everything. The GPS logs in Adam’s car, his credit card statements. Nothing. Not a single anomaly. Had he really become that meticulous? 2 This intangible, suffocating uncertainty was worse than finding hard evidence. It felt like walking through a thick fog, blind and unnerved. I replayed the past few weeks in my mind, searching for any detail I might have missed. There was almost nothing. Adam was as attentive as ever, buying me things he thought I’d like without a second thought. The only strange thing was the necklace he’d given me last week. It was identical to one he’d bought me years ago. Men aren’t always sentimental about such things; it was plausible he’d just forgotten. But it had never happened before. One afternoon, I decided to surprise him and drove to the headquarters of Shaw Corp. But Adam wasn’t there. His executive assistant, Jenna—an old classmate of mine—pulled me aside, her voice a low whisper. “He left with Sophie. Said he was going to Leo’s firm to discuss a partnership, but I don’t buy it. There’s no partnership in the works with them right now. God knows where they really went.” Leo. Mia’s husband. If the two of them were in on this together, covering for each other, then a direct confrontation would only tip them off. I pulled out my phone. “Mia, I need you to do something for me.” Waiting for her to call back, I tried to keep my breathing even, but Jenna must have seen the color drain from my face. “Hey, don’t panic yet,” she said, her hand on my arm. “If it’s true, you’ve got more important things to focus on.” She was right. I don’t tolerate betrayal. If I found proof, the grief and heartbreak would have to wait. The divorce would be non-negotiable, and dividing our assets would be a war. Mia didn’t call back. She showed up in person. “Clara… something’s not right,” she said, her brow creased with worry. My stomach plummeted. What could be worse than confirming Adam was cheating? “Your husband is definitely there,” she began. “But the new girl, Sophie? She’s not with him. She’s just waiting in the lobby’s seating area. Leo saw me and thought I was there to check up on him, made a few snide remarks. But…” She trailed off, struggling to find the words. “I never saw Adam.” “What?” “He went to Leo’s company. You saw Sophie, you saw Leo, but you didn’t see Adam?” This wasn’t what I had expected. A powerful wave of unease washed over me. But didn’t this at least mean he wasn’t with Sophie, doing something sordid? “I left before Leo got too suspicious,” Mia continued. “Clara, what the hell is Adam playing at?” This was far more complex than I had imagined. When Adam came home that evening, his smile was as warm and gentle as ever. It was the same smile he’d had in college. He, who had always been so composed and confident, had thrown all decorum to the wind to chase me for three years, doing all sorts of ridiculous things that were completely out of character. Before him, we had both been the good kids, molded by our families, never having been in a real relationship. We were young when we married, growing together as he took over his family’s business and I opened my art gallery. After my mother passed, I’d drifted away from my father and his new family. In many ways, Adam had filled that void. “Clara.” He opened his arms and pulled me into a tight embrace, inhaling deeply at the crook of my neck. “Just showered?” I asked. “Mmmhmm.” He smelled clean, fresh. Not a hint of perfume, not a single foreign scent. His shirt was crisp, without a wrinkle. “I’ve been so busy lately, I feel bad I haven’t been home for dinner,” he murmured, his fingers gently tracing my jawline. “You’re not mad at me, are you?” “Am I that unreasonable? You’re the one working hard to provide for us.” While Adam was in the shower, I checked his phone. Still nothing. His chats were all work-related. His conversations with Sophie were sparse and professional—brief instructions, followed by a simple “Received.” 3 He came out of the bathroom, saw me with his phone, and chuckled. “My feed is just boring business news. Not like yours, full of artists and culture.” He sat beside me, draping an arm over my shoulder and planting a soft kiss on my cheek. We hadn’t been intimate in a while, and with his affectionate words, I expected things to progress. I lowered my gaze, waiting for his next move. Instead, he simply lay down and turned on his side. Doubt, humiliation, and a gnawing anxiety washed over me all at once. I didn’t sleep a wink that night. A few days later, Jenna messaged me. Adam had taken Sophie to Leo’s building again. This time, I went straight there myself. I spotted Sophie in the lobby, looking bored out of her mind. “Mrs. Shaw? What are you doing here?” she asked, her expression one of pure confusion. “Sophie, shouldn’t you be with Mr. Shaw instead of slacking off down here?” “No, no…” She waved her hands frantically, her face flushing with panic. “Mr. Shaw told me I didn’t need to go up, that he’d call me if he needed anything. I… I don’t really know what I’m supposed to be doing.” She looked down, the picture of frustrated helplessness. My tone softened. “How long has this been going on?” Sophie hesitated, clearly unsure how much she was allowed to tell me about her boss’s affairs. “It’s okay,” I reassured her. “I’m just worried about him. He’s been so stressed lately, and I don’t know what kind of big deal requires him to come here so often.” She bit her lip. “It’s been about three months now. He doesn’t bring me every time. But when he does, I just sit here. I’d rather be at the office, at least I’d have work to do.” Before I left, I turned back to her. “Sophie, if you ever run into any trouble, you can come to me.” I asked Mia to keep a closer eye on things at Leo’s building. Her call came an hour later, her voice tight with excitement. “Clara! I saw Adam get off on the 27th floor!” “The 27th?” “A few floors in the tower are set up as corporate apartments, usually for visiting clients. I just found out the entire 27th floor was taken off the market three months ago. It’s been leased long-term by a single client.” All the seemingly unrelated details suddenly clicked into place, the weight of them pressing down on me, making it hard to breathe. “Mia… can you get me the security footage?” The footage from the elevator bank and the 27th-floor hallway was damning. Over the past three months, Adam had appeared there nearly thirty times during work hours. Each time, he walked to the room at the end of the hall, entered a code, and went inside. The camera never saw who was in there. I watched the clips over and over, zooming in, searching. And then I saw it. In one video, just as the door was closing behind him.

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The Blackwell Group was launching a new division. The chairman appointed his wife, Audrey, as its president, giving her carte blanche to build her own team. Everyone assumed I’d be her VP. Friends were congratulating me in advance, celebrating our joint ascent up the corporate ladder. But on the day the official announcement went out, I received a termination notice. And the intern Audrey had been so close to, the one who always seemed to be whispering in her ear, was named Vice President. Later, Audrey tried to explain. “Leo has depression, Cole. He’s incredibly sensitive. He needs the validation more than you do.” She straightened my tie, her fingers cool against my skin. “Besides, he’s already thought of you. He said you could be his personal driver. The pay is great, and the hours are easy. See how thoughtful he is?” I looked into her eyes, searching for a hint of a joke. There was none. She was dead serious. I gently removed her hands from my collar and met her gaze with the same unnerving sincerity. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll support my wife’s decision.” 1 The next morning, dressed in a black driver’s uniform, I had the car waiting outside Leo’s apartment building on time. I waited for nearly an hour. Three calls to his phone went straight to voicemail. Finally, with only ten minutes left before the workday officially began, he sauntered out of the lobby doors, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He pulled open the rear door and flopped onto the leather seat without so much as a glance in my direction. “Let’s go.” I said nothing, just put the car in drive. The morning rush hour had the interstate in a gridlock. From the back seat, Leo’s impatience grew. “What are you doing? Don’t you know any shortcuts?” he whined. “Audrey won’t be happy if I’m late on my first day.” We finally pulled up to the office building, thirty minutes late. The second I put the car in park, Audrey’s call came through. Her voice was sharp enough to cut glass. “Cole! Where are you? Do you have any idea what day it is? It’s the executive morning briefing! How is Leo supposed to command any respect when his own driver makes him late on day one?” Before I could get a word in, Leo’s voice cut in, dripping with faux-distress. “Audrey, don’t blame Cole. It’s his first day as a driver. It’s an adjustment.” He paused for effect. “He was trying so hard to get here on time, he even ran a few red lights for me.” That sent Audrey into a fresh spiral of fury. “Cole! Are you doing this on purpose? Are you so bitter about being let go that you have to sabotage Leo’s first day just to make yourself feel better?” “You are such a disappointment.” “Forget about this month’s paycheck. You’re not getting it.” She hung up with a sharp click. Leo sat up. The wounded look vanished, replaced by a smirk of pure satisfaction. “Tough break, Cole. Must sting, driving me around.” He laughed softly and swung his leg over the center console, planting a mud-caked leather shoe on the back of the passenger seat. They were the shoes. The custom Italian leather ones Audrey had a friend bring back from Milan for my birthday last month. Now they were on Leo’s feet, sullied with dirt, staring me in the face. “Guess that’s what happens when you’re not good enough,” he said, pushing the door open. He sauntered toward the building, whistling. I sat there in the silence of the car, staring at the muddy footprint on the seat back. My knuckles were white on the steering wheel. A little while later, a few of the senior managers came down for a smoke break after the meeting. They saw me in the car and ambled over. “Jesus, Cole. You’ve got the patience of a saint,” one of them said, leaning against the window. “Getting ridden like that by an intern? We could hear Audrey tearing you a new one from down the hall. If it were me, I’d have driven this thing straight into the river.” Another one just smirked. “I don’t know, man. Maybe he’s got some kind of special kink for this.” I ignored their jeers and pulled out my phone. A new text from Audrey had just popped up. “Honey, I’m sorry. I was just angry. I have to establish Leo’s authority in front of everyone, otherwise they’ll walk all over him. Don’t take it personally. I’ll deposit double your salary into our account tonight. Your old office is gone, per company policy. Just relax in the car for a bit. I’ll come down and have lunch with you.” I stared at the message, then deleted it and locked the screen. Establish his authority? Using my dignity as his stepping stone. Audrey, you really are a wonderful wife. She didn’t come down for lunch. She sent her assistant with a sad-looking boxed salad, explaining that she had to take Leo out with the department heads for a ‘get-to-know-you’ lunch. I tossed the cold salad directly into the nearest trash can. 2 Three days later was our fifth wedding anniversary. I’d made reservations at Le Ciel Bleu, her favorite French restaurant, and bought the diamond necklace she’d been dropping hints about for months. I wanted to surprise her. At five p.m., I texted her: “Hey, are you free tonight?” She replied almost instantly: “Have to take Leo to meet a huge client. It’s going to be a late one. Don’t wait up.” A follow-up text came a second later: “It’s his first time leading a pitch. I need to be there to guide him.” I stared at the screen, my thumbs hovering over the keyboard. I typed out a single sentence: “Do you remember what day it is?” After a long moment, I deleted it, letter by letter. I canceled the reservation and tossed the velvet jewelry box onto the passenger seat. Restless and angry, I called a few friends and met them at a hole-in-the-wall taco joint on the other side of town. We had just ordered a round of beers and a platter of carne asada when two familiar figures walked through the door, hand in hand. It was Audrey and Leo. Audrey wore a playful, giddy smile I hadn’t seen in years. She was pointing at the greasy, handwritten menu on the wall, laughing about something with him. She used to despise places like this. She’d complain that the smoky air would ruin her thousand-dollar perfumes. Now, I heard her say to him with genuine excitement, “See? Places like this have so much more soul.” Then I noticed it. Leo was wearing a bespoke suit. The one Audrey had commissioned for me as my anniversary gift. My gaze locked onto the fabric, the perfect tailoring. Leo must have felt my eyes on him. He turned his head and saw me. He froze for a second, a flicker of panic in his eyes. Then, as if on purpose, he jerked his arm, knocking a full glass of orange soda all over himself. “Oh!” Audrey gasped and immediately grabbed a fistful of napkins, kneeling down to dab at the stain on his pants. The gesture was so tender, so careful, as if she were handling a priceless artifact. I couldn’t sit there anymore. I stood up and walked toward their table. “Audrey,” I said. My voice was a raw whisper. She looked up, and her face hardened the moment she saw me. “What are you doing here?” My eyes went past her to the suit on Leo’s back. “I thought you were meeting a client.” Audrey got to her feet, her expression a mask of annoyance. “The meeting finished early. Leo said he was craving tacos, so I brought him here.” “And the suit?” I asked, nodding toward Leo. “How do you explain that?” “He was meeting a major client, Cole. He couldn’t show up looking shabby, could he? I just lent him your suit.” She looked at me as if I were the unreasonable one. “Can you stop being so petty? It’s just a piece of clothing.” “You’re a driver,” she added, her voice dripping with disdain. “It’s not like you have anywhere to wear something that nice.” “Petty?” I let out a bitter laugh. “That was my five-year anniversary present!” The color drained from Audrey’s face. Her eyes darted away for a second. “I’ll… I’ll buy you a better one later.” Just then, Leo, who had been silent, stood up. He draped a proprietary arm around Audrey’s shoulders, pulling her close. “What can I say, Cole?” he said, his eyes gleaming with triumph. “Someone’s got to pick up the slack when you can’t even hold down a job. Your wife has been under a lot of stress.” He leaned in. “Someone has to help her out. At work… and at home.” His last words were loaded, his eyes locked on mine in a direct challenge. And Audrey just stood there, letting him hold her, not saying a single word. My friends had seen enough. They stormed over, getting in Leo’s face. “Who the hell do you think you are?” “You’re a goddamn leech, living off a woman, and you have the balls to act like this?” The scene devolved into shouting. One of my friends looked ready to throw a punch. I quickly stepped between them, grabbing my friend’s arm. “It’s not worth it. Let’s just go.” They stormed out, one of them cursing me under his breath for being a doormat. After they were gone, I stood by the door of the taqueria, waiting silently for Audrey to come out. I needed to talk to her, away from all of this, to get a straight answer about what was happening. I waited until after midnight. 3 At one in the morning, Audrey and Leo finally stumbled out, both clearly drunk. Leo was unsteady on his feet, practically hanging off Audrey as she supported him on the walk to the car. When they reached my car, Leo suddenly spun her around, pinning her against the passenger door. He lowered his head, his lips finding the soft skin of her neck. “Audrey, you’re so good to me,” he murmured. Her body went stiff. She seemed to want to push him away, but when she raised her hands, they landed weakly on his shoulders, clinging to him. “Leo, stop… I’m still married to Cole.” “Who cares about him? He’s just some loser you kicked to the curb.” Leo’s mouth moved to her earlobe, then trailed down her jawline. Audrey’s resistance melted away. A soft whimper escaped her lips. She closed her eyes and gave in. I was standing not twenty feet away, watching the whole sordid scene. Something inside me snapped. A roar of pure rage tore from my throat as I lunged forward, shoving Leo away from her with all my strength. He stumbled backward and fell to the pavement. My eyes, burning with betrayal, were fixed on Audrey. She looked at me as if I had just shattered a beautiful dream. Then, she drew back her hand and slapped me hard across the face. “Cole! Are you insane?!” she screamed, her voice filled with a cold, venomous disgust. That slap shattered the last, desperate illusion I had been clinging to. Audrey didn’t even look at me again. She turned and rushed to Leo’s side. “Leo, baby, are you okay? Did he hurt you?” He whimpered in her arms like a child who’d scraped his knee. Ignoring me completely, they hailed a cab and disappeared into the night. I drove home alone. The house was cold, empty, devoid of life. I was about to step into the shower when my phone buzzed. It was a notification from my bank. [Alert: Your joint savings account has been frozen. Current balance: $0.00.] Audrey. Because I had trusted her, trusted our marriage, every dollar I’d ever earned was in that account. Below the bank alert was a text from her. “I gave you a chance to walk away with your dignity, Cole. You chose not to take it. After the scene you made tonight, you don’t deserve my respect. You think you’re so tough? Let’s see how tough you are with no money.” I had never kept a secret stash. I was penniless. 4 The next morning, a frantic ringing jolted me from a nightmare. “Cole! It’s your father! He had a massive heart attack, he’s in the hospital! They’re taking him into surgery now!” My world went numb. I raced to the hospital, arriving just as they were wheeling my father into the operating room. A nurse handed me a clipboard. “Sir, we need a deposit of one hundred thousand dollars for the surgery to proceed.” I jammed my hands in my pockets, a pointless gesture. I remembered. I had nothing. With a trembling hand, I dialed Audrey’s number. It rang for a long time before she answered, her voice thick with sleep. “What? What do you want this early?” “Audrey, now! Transfer me a hundred thousand dollars! My dad had a heart attack, he needs emergency surgery!” There was a pause on the other end, followed by a cold, sharp laugh. “Are you serious, Cole? You’re so desperate for money you’d use your own father as an excuse?” “Do you really think I’d fall for a lie that pathetic?” “I’m busy prepping Leo for a client meeting. Don’t bother me with this nonsense again.” She hung up. I tried calling back, but it went straight to a busy signal. Swallowing every last ounce of my pride, I started calling my friends, my brothers, anyone who would listen. “Hey, Mark, it’s Cole… Listen, man, I’m in a really tight spot… Can I borrow some money…?” As I was hunched over, whispering humbly into the phone, I looked up and saw two familiar figures walking down the hospital corridor. It was Audrey, with Leo on her arm. She wasn’t meeting any client. She was speaking to him in a soft, gentle voice, guiding him toward the psychiatric wing of the hospital. When she saw me squatting on the floor, her expression instantly soured. She must have felt a pang of guilt, because she walked briskly toward me, already pulling her phone out of her purse. But before she could do anything, Leo suddenly flinched, his body seizing as if he’d been electrocuted. He clung to Audrey’s arm and let out a theatrical shriek. “Ah! Don’t come near me! You’re scaring me!” He cowered behind her, pointing at me, his body trembling like a leaf. Audrey immediately spun around to shield him, her face contorted with rage as she turned on me. “Cole! Look what you’ve done! You’ve triggered him!” “Leo is having a severe anxiety attack! Are you trying to kill him?!” I just stared, baffled by the ridiculous performance. “What did I do? My father is waiting for life-saving surgery. I don’t have time for your little drama.” Audrey’s neck flushed with anger. She held Leo tight and spat her words at me. “Leo’s first big project failed today because you decided not to show up for work. Your absence cost the company millions in lost orders.” “You pushed him to this point, and you still have the nerve to ask me for money?” So that was it. She was pinning Leo’s failure on me. “If it weren’t for the fact that we were once married, you wouldn’t even have a job as a driver!” She guided the trembling Leo into the therapist’s office. Before closing the door, she looked back at me, her eyes like ice. “You go to the office right now. You walk into that boardroom and you take full responsibility for this disaster. You make it clear that Leo had nothing to do with it. You do that, and I’ll transfer the money.” My chest felt tight enough to burst. I wanted nothing more than to wipe the smug expressions off both their faces. But then I thought of my father on the operating table, and my head sank. I was ready to accept. Just then, my phone buzzed. A new notification. A transfer of three hundred thousand dollars had just been deposited into my personal account. I thought it was from one of my friends, but then a text message came through. I read the message, and the crushing weight of humiliation and rage began to lift. I took a deep, steadying breath. Audrey poked her head out of the office, her voice sharp with impatience. “Cole! What are you waiting for? Get to the office and confess!” I didn’t look at her. I simply turned and walked toward the payment office, my back straight. “Cole! Stop right there! Did you hear me?!” Her frantic screams echoed behind me, but for the first time in a long time, my steps felt light.

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1 I was leisurely pruning my new $1.88 million orchid with a pair of small golden shears when my son’s old flame stormed into my garden. She blew in like a hurricane, pointed a trembling finger at me, and burst into tears. “Mrs. Vance! I know you’ve always looked down on me! Years ago, you forced me to leave Joss with a five-hundred-thousand-dollar check, telling me I wasn’t good enough for your family!” “Well, I’m back now, and I won’t let you tear us apart again!” My hand, holding the shears, froze mid-air. I was utterly bewildered. Five hundred thousand? Since when was I so… frugal? … Joss’s face flushed a deep crimson as he rushed to her side, grabbing her arm. “Sadie, calm down! What are you talking about? My mother isn’t like that…” “Hold on,” I said, setting down the shears. I walked over to Sadie Summers, my expression one of genuine confusion. “You said a five-hundred-thousand-dollar check?” Sadie was taken aback by my direct question, but she quickly straightened her spine, tears welling in her eyes. “Yes! Five hundred thousand! Mrs. Vance, stop pretending! You just want Joss to think you’re some benevolent mother, but behind his back, you’ve been plotting against me all along!” “Oh?” I raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement sparking within me. “And how, exactly, have I been plotting against you? With five hundred thousand dollars?” I looked her dead in the eye, my voice serious. “My dear, do you have some sort of misunderstanding about wealthy families? Or perhaps, a misunderstanding of my personal spending habits?” I held up a single, manicured finger and wagged it gently. “First, I don’t use checks. They’re a hassle; I deal in wire transfers. Second, even if I were to pay you to leave my son, don’t you think that price is a bit… insulting?” My gaze swept over her, from head to toe. “Are you insulting my financial standing, or are you insulting your own worth? Since when did the price of entry into the Vance family become so cheap?” “I…” Sadie’s face turned ghostly pale. This was clearly not in her script. She shot a helpless look at Joss, her voice cracking. “Joss, do you hear her? Do you hear what your mother is saying? She’s humiliating me!” Joss looked as if he’d been constipated for three days. Caught in the middle, he tried to placate Sadie while giving me an apologetic smile. “Mom, please, just a few words less. Sadie just got back, she’s a little emotional…” “You, step aside,” I said, giving my son a pointed look. “Men are best advised to keep quiet in these situations. You’ll only make things worse. Today, I need to clear this up with Miss Summers, face to face.” My attention returned to Sadie, my tone still even. “Miss Summers, you claim I forced you away. Surely you have some proof? A witness, a piece of evidence, a transaction record? You can’t just throw such a serious accusation at me based on nothing but your word, can you?” “I…” Sadie was speechless, biting her lip. After a long pause, she finally choked out, “The way you looked at me back then is the proof! It was filled with disdain and contempt!” I almost laughed out loud. Turning, I beckoned to our butler, Arthur, who was hovering anxiously at the greenhouse entrance. “Arthur, could you come here for a moment?” Arthur scurried over, standing respectfully at attention. Right in front of Sadie, I gave my instructions in a calm, measured voice. “Please contact the finance department immediately. I want a full audit of all my personal and corporate accounts from five years ago. Look for any outgoing payment of five hundred thousand dollars to a Miss Sadie Summers. Be thorough, don’t miss anything. I want the results within the hour.” After a beat, as if a thought just occurred to me, I added, “Oh, and while you’re at it, please print out a copy of the electronic receipt for my five-million-dollar donation to the Children’s Cancer Fund last month. In color. Let’s give Miss Summers a sense of the current market rate and familiarize her with my spending habits. We wouldn’t want her to make up stories next time with figures that are so embarrassingly low. It reflects poorly on the Vance name.” Sadie was frozen to the spot, every last drop of color drained from her face. Joss simply covered his face with his hand and turned away, as if he couldn’t bear to watch. Arthur was efficient. In less than thirty minutes, the full-color receipt, emblazoned with the staggering figure of five million dollars, was laid out on the stone table in the greenhouse. Sadie stared at the long string of zeros, speechless, before Joss half-dragged, half-coaxed her away. The next afternoon, I was having tea with my dearest friend, Jessica Morgan, a powerhouse who had dominated the business world for decades. We were chatting about a piece of Imperial Jade we’d both bid on at an auction in Hong Kong last week when Joss arrived with Sadie in tow. My son wore a pleading expression. “Mom, Aunt Jessica, I brought Sadie to say hello.” I nodded, but before I could speak, Sadie’s eyes were already darting between me and Jessica. Jessica was wearing a chic, cream-colored Chanel suit, and I happened to have chosen a cashmere shawl in a similar shade. That alone was enough to make Sadie’s eyes turn red again. She took a deep breath, stepped forward, and looked at me, her voice trembling on the verge of tears. “Mrs. Vance, I understand now. You don’t have to go to such lengths to humiliate me.” Jessica and I both paused, our teacups hovering in mid-air. Sadie didn’t look at me. Instead, she turned to Jessica, though her words were clearly meant for me. “You think I don’t come from a good enough background, that I lack poise. So you deliberately found a woman who is more mature, more accomplished, from a more distinguished family, just to show me that I’m nothing but a cheap substitute who can be replaced at any moment by someone better. Is that it?” I nearly choked on my coffee. Jessica Morgan? This was a woman who built her own publicly-traded company from the ground up. Her husband’s family fortune was even larger than ours. Asking her to be a “substitute”? My son wouldn’t dare. Even my late husband wouldn’t have dared. Jessica, far from being offended, seemed intrigued. She set down her cup and looked at Sadie. “What’s your name, young lady?” “Sadie Summers,” she answered defiantly. “Alright, Miss Summers.” Jessica nodded, her tone placid. “Let’s do some math. According to your theory, Mrs. Vance hired me to make you feel inadequate. Do you know what the opportunity cost of me sitting here for this afternoon tea is? It’s two signed contracts. Do you have any idea the value of this haute couture suit and the jewelry I’m wearing?” Jessica’s voice was unhurried but sharp. “Do you really think Mrs. Vance, a shrewd investor, would spend so much capital on a high-value asset like me, just to intimidate… forgive my bluntness, a target with currently no discernible market value? Where, exactly, is the return on that investment?” Sadie was completely floored by the barrage of business jargon. Her face was a kaleidoscope of colors as she stood there, mouth agape, unable to form a single rebuttal. Joss’s expression had turned thunderous. He quickly grabbed Sadie’s arm and apologized profusely to us. “Mom, Aunt Jessica, I’m so sorry, so sorry. Sadie didn’t mean it. We’re leaving now!” With that, he practically dragged the petrified Sadie away, making a hasty retreat. Watching them go, Jessica picked up her coffee, blew on it gently, and smiled at me. “Eleanor, your son certainly has… unique taste. Life must be very entertaining.” I sighed, slumping back into the sofa. “Don’t even start. I just tell myself I’m watching a soap opera every day. At least it’s free.” After Jessica schooled her with business logic at the executive lounge, Sadie laid low for two days. I thought she might finally be starting to understand the difference between reality and fiction. I was far too naive. That afternoon, as I was sipping a rare oolong tea in the main house’s living room, Sadie showed up with bags and bags of fresh groceries. She slammed the ingredients down on the coffee table with a thud and announced solemnly, “Mrs. Vance, from this day forward, I will be in charge of Joss’s diet! I won’t let any outsiders have a hand in his health ever again!” I held my teacup, not even bothering to look up. “Mrs. Gable, our cook, has been with the family for thirty years. She’s hardly an outsider. Also, Joss is allergic to shellfish, especially crustaceans. The slightest taste gives him a rash and makes it hard for him to breathe. Are you planning to send him to the emergency room with that king crab and Boston lobster?” Sadie’s face stiffened, then shifted into an expression that screamed, “I knew you’d say that.” “Mrs. Vance, you don’t have to test me anymore!” she said stubbornly. “I know you’re just using this excuse to keep me away from Joss! Don’t worry, the meal I make today will be perfectly safe for him!” Looking at her defiant, “I’m not listening” face, I felt that reasoning with her was a complete waste of breath. I sighed, put down my cup, and picked up my phone. “Hello, Dr. Evans? It’s Eleanor Vance. Are you free at the moment? If so, could you please come over to the estate? And bring a copy of Joss’s latest physical and his allergen chart.” Dr. Evans had been our family doctor for decades. He was a respected professional. After hanging up, I told Sadie, “You don’t believe me, so let’s have the doctor explain it to you. That should be acceptable, right? It’ll be in black and white, a professional diagnosis. You’ll accept that, won’t you?” To my surprise, upon hearing this, Sadie’s face went white as a sheet, her eyes filled with a mixture of grief and disappointment. “You… you even bought Dr. Evans?” Her voice trembled. “He’s your spy, isn’t he? You’ve arranged everything, just waiting for me to walk into your trap! This medical report… it’s all part of your conspiracy, a forgery you had him create just to use against me!” I was genuinely stunned by her imagination. I’d lived for sixty years, and this was the first I’d heard of a family doctor being used as a counter-intelligence asset. Joss happened to be coming down the stairs and walked right into the tense scene. He looked exhausted. “Sadie! What nonsense are you spouting now? Dr. Evans has known me since I was a child. How could you say that about him?” Sadie looked at him with tear-filled eyes. “Joss! Can’t you see? This is a trap set by your mother!” The farce ended with the arrival of Dr. Evans, Sadie screaming “I don’t believe you!” with her hands over her ears, and Joss, desperate to quiet her down, reluctantly agreeing to “just have a little taste.” At dinner, Mrs. Gable prepared a simple, light meal for me. At the other end of the table sat Sadie’s lovingly prepared seafood feast. Under Sadie’s expectant gaze, Joss steeled himself and ate a small piece of crab meat. Less than ten minutes later, red spots started appearing on his face, followed by labored, wheezing breaths. The living room exploded into chaos. Dr. Evans immediately rushed forward to administer emergency treatment while the bodyguards scrambled to prepare the car for the hospital. Sadie just stood there, holding a platter, her face ashen with shock, muttering to herself, “How could this happen? I only let him have a tiny piece…” I calmly pushed through the crowd and walked up to her. Looking at her face, a canvas of disbelief and confusion, I told her, word by word: “Miss Summers, love does not conquer allergies. That is a scientific fact.” After the seafood incident, Joss spent two days in the hospital. Sadie, presumably wracked with guilt, was much quieter. I figured I couldn’t let her just sit at home stewing in her own fantasies, so I decided to take her out into the world. The annual Starlight Charity Gala, a major city event spearheaded by the Vance Corporation, was approaching. I had my assistant send over a portfolio from a couture house for her to pick a proper gown. She refused without even looking, saying she had already prepared something. A sense of dread immediately washed over me. On the night of the gala, my premonition came true. As I entered the ballroom on the arm of an old family friend, the first thing I saw was Joss and Sadie standing near the entrance. My son was impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, looking sharp and handsome. Beside him, Sadie was wearing a pair of faded, washed-out jeans and a plain white cotton t-shirt. She wore no makeup. Among the glittering, jewel-adorned guests, she looked like a delivery girl who had stumbled into the wrong event. The media’s camera flashes descended upon them like a frenzy of lightning. Joss’s face was so dark it could have been carved from obsidian. He hissed under his breath, “Sadie, what in the world are you doing?” But Sadie stood tall, a look of tragic self-righteousness on her face. She scanned the lavishly dressed crowd around her and said to Joss, “I get it now, Joss. Your mother just wanted to use this ostentatious, decadent event to humiliate me, to make me feel ashamed so I’d give up. She wanted to show me that a normal girl like me could never fit into your world.” I almost passed out. Did this girl have a persecution complex? Taking a deep breath, I maintained my elegant smile and walked over to them. I ignored Sadie and addressed the reporters directly, my voice warm and gentle. “Everyone, allow me to introduce you. This is Miss Summers, a very unique friend of my son’s. Her attire tonight is her way of demonstrating to us all that the true spirit of charity lies in the heart, not in glamorous appearances. Don’t you all agree?” The reporters immediately caught on, snapping photos and murmuring in agreement. I had successfully transformed a PR disaster into a refreshingly positive angle. Joss shot me a grateful look, while Sadie beamed with pride, pleased that I had recognized her “deeper meaning.” During the gala, I tried to introduce her to a few of my more mild-mannered business partners, thinking it would be good for her to network. But the moment a Mr. Wallace from a real estate firm offered her his business card, Sadie recoiled, shooting me a suspicious glance before telling him, “You don’t have to test me. I’m not going to leave Joss for money!” The poor man, a forty-something father of two, was left standing there in stunned silence, utterly baffled as to what he’d said wrong. I quickly apologized and changed the subject to smooth things over. The real climax, however, came during the charity auction. Joss was set to bid on the final item: a spectacular pink diamond. It had been a gift from my late husband, which I had donated with the intention of having Joss buy it back. But just as he was about to raise his paddle, Sadie suddenly clamped her hand down on his, whispering urgently in his ear, “Don’t fall for it! It’s a trap! Your mother wants you to go bankrupt so she can get rid of me!” Thanks to Sadie’s intervention, Joss left the auction empty-handed, a complete and utter embarrassment. After the gala, in the parking garage, Joss finally exploded. “Do you have any idea how much you humiliated me tonight?” he roared. Sadie’s tears flowed even more freely than his anger. “I was trying to help you! I did it for us!” I stood a short distance away, unable to muster even a sliver of a smile. “Sadie,” I said, my voice laced with ice, “you’re not protecting him. You’re destroying him.” I looked at Joss, but my words were for her. “That diamond was the first gift your uncle ever gave me. I donated it so that Joss could personally buy it back, to show everyone that he is capable of protecting this family’s legacy.” I paused, a genuine pang of sorrow in my voice. “And now, a stranger has it. All because of some ridiculous, non-existent conspiracy you cooked up in your head.” Without another glance at them, I turned to Joss and issued a decree, my voice devoid of all emotion. “Joss. My office. Nine o’clock tomorrow morning. Come alone.”

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When the plane hit severe turbulence, I was on board with my husband, Matt. In the tense, rattling cabin, everyone was frantically writing their last words. I gripped Matt’s hand tightly, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw him send his final message not to me, but to my best friend, Maya. Matt’s lips were a thin, tight line. After a moment, he finally explained, “Don’t misunderstand. She’s the person we both trust the most, isn’t she?” Thankfully, it was a false alarm. As I stumbled off the plane on shaky legs, the first thing I did was call Maya. “Let’s get it notarized,” I said, my voice dead calm. “I’ll be your witness.” 1 “Chloe, what are you talking about?” Maya’s voice was a frantic squawk on the other end. “I just saw the news about the plane! Are you okay?” “I’m on my way to the airport right now, wait for me!” She hung up abruptly. Matt walked beside me, a look of weary frustration on his face. “Your parents and mine are getting older. I didn’t want to scare them. That’s why I sent it to Maya.” “Come on, you… okay, okay, I was wrong. Can you forgive me?” Matt pulled me close, kissing my cheek. “Don’t be mad. When Maya gets here, she’s going to chew me out. You don’t want to see your darling husband get yelled at, do you?” A knot of ice was forming in my stomach. I pulled away and walked ahead. Matt chased after me, murmuring apologies. When we reached the arrivals hall, I saw Maya jump out of her car. The panic in her eyes looked genuine. But I saw it clearly. The first person she looked for was Matt. Only then did she rush over to me, pulling me into a fierce hug before turning to punch Matt playfully on the shoulder. “You idiot! What was that last will and testament crap? You scared me to death!” Matt just smiled. “Hey, we’re fine. Besides, if something did happen, I knew we could count on you to handle everything for us.” “And for that,” he added with a teasing glance at me, “Chloe is giving me the silent treatment.” He said it like a joke. Maya rolled her eyes at him and pulled me toward her car. I watched them, how they bantered, how they moved around each other with an effortless familiarity that screamed of something more. There was no boundary, no sense of propriety. Back at our apartment, I told them I was exhausted and went straight to the bedroom. Lying in bed, sleep was the furthest thing from my mind. I’d known Matt for eight years. We were returning from our honeymoon. I thought I knew him inside and out. But on that plane, staring death in the face, my only thought was of being with him forever. Matt, meanwhile, was tapping out a message to Maya with trembling hands. He called it a will. But in that moment of pure terror, my senses had been dialed to eleven. I had seen the words he sent to her. Everything I have goes to you. And one last line: The vows we made remain, but the letter can never be sent. My nails dug into my palms. Just then, I heard his voice from the living room. “Chloe, I’m walking Maya downstairs. I’ll be right back.” I got up silently and went to the living room. His phone was on the coffee table. In a flash of pure impulse, I picked it up, my fingers flying as I entered his passcode. I checked all the usual apps, but found nothing. Was I just being paranoid? Then, my hands shaking, I went into his settings and tapped ‘Switch Account.’ And there it was. A second profile, one he used so often it didn’t even require a password. In that account, I found their chats. They went back eight years. To when Matt and I had just met. It turned out Maya had known him even before I did. “You’re a lucky guy, getting to know the ice queen of our department. Chloe doesn’t let just anyone in.” “Ask Chloe to the badminton court today. She loves playing. Don’t say I never help you. Make sure you play well!” “So, how’d it go? I’m a good wing-woman, right? Chloe’s my best friend. If you ever dare betray her, I’ll be the first one to come after you.” And then, the conversation shifted. From helping him woo me, to their shared interests, to their dates, and then… to sex. It started with hesitation, then guilt, and then blossomed into a thrilling, passionate affair. In twenty minutes, I scrolled through eight years of deceit. I took pictures of everything I needed, logged out, and locked the phone. Then I walked to the window. Down below, in the parking lot, I saw them. They were wrapped in an embrace, their hands lingering, stroking, like two lovers unable to say goodbye. I took a deep breath. A part of me, a core belief in my life, had just crumbled into dust. 2 I didn’t sleep a wink. When Matt came back to bed, he wrapped his arms around me from behind. The feel of his breath on my neck sent a wave of nausea through me. I pushed him away and went to the guest room. The next morning, I left before he was awake. I couldn’t stand being under the same roof with him. I was afraid I would be physically sick. When Matt called, I was at my lawyer’s office, staring at a draft of our divorce papers. I answered. “Where did you go so early?” “My vacation leave is over. I came to the office to catch up on work.” I was impressed with myself. How could I lie so calmly at a time like this? Matt seemed to buy it. “Okay. I’ve got a busy day too, so I won’t be home for lunch. I sent you a gift, make sure you sign for it.” After hanging up, the lawyer across from me pushed a glass of hot water in my direction. “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice gentle. My face must have been a mess. I gave him a weak smile and thanked him. Then I pointed to a clause in the agreement. “Change this. I get ninety percent of everything. He’s the one at fault.” “He’s had a long-term affair. He won’t fight you on material assets. Just do as I say.” Matt, I would make him pay for this. For the rest of his life. The gift he sent was a two-thousand-dollar handbag. Almost immediately, Maya called. “Someone’s lucky,” she chirped, her voice dripping with fake envy. “Sends me a dramatic last will yesterday, and today he’s already dropping two grand on a bag for you. I’m telling you, you’re being too hard on him. Just forgive him already!” Listening to her defend him, even hinting that I was being petty, was so absurd I almost laughed. As if I were the one in the wrong. My silence on the other end must have tipped her off. “What’s wrong? Why aren’t you saying anything?” “I don’t feel like talking. Probably just jet lag. I’m tired.” “Okay, well, get some rest. We’ll catch up later!” After hanging up, I went on the offensive. I scoured all of Maya’s social media accounts. We’d been friends for years, but our “best friend” status had only solidified in the last five—thanks to Matt, who brought us closer. I found nothing suspicious on her main pages. Then I started looking through her ‘following’ lists. One profile stood out—a cartoon avatar of a chubby girl in traditional dress, just her type. I clicked on it. It was her secret account. A digital shrine to her and Matt. Though the man in the photos and videos never showed his full face, I’d known Matt for eight years. I recognized the back of his head, the curve of his jaw in a fleeting side profile. It was him. They had a secret life, a secret home, all behind my back. I watched every single video. The account’s bio read: The Fox and the Rabbit: Eight years and three months of love. July 13, 2017: Saw the Rabbit for the first time. Love at first sight! Got his number. Found out we go to the same university and shamelessly joined the same club as him. October 1, 2017: My roommate has become friends with my crush. She’s so fake, always using that baby voice around him. Do all men fall for that crap? She got to him first. It hurts so much. December 25, 2017: There’s hope! He told me he’s conflicted. He said he feels like he has more in common with me! … 3 Thousands of posts over eight years. I read every single one, my heart shredding with each word. Three months after Matt and I made our relationship official, he started his affair with her. For a long moment, I was numb. Then, a volcanic rage erupted inside me. Matt, how could you do this to our eight years? In that instant, I wanted to burn his world to the ground. As it happened, my mother-in-law’s birthday was in two days. In all the years I’d known Matt, she had been genuinely kind to me. It pained me to have to disappoint her, but this had to be done. I took the jade bracelet she had given me as a wedding gift and placed it in a box. Then I went out and bought a two-thousand-dollar wallet, put it in the same gift bag, and had it beautifully wrapped. On the morning of her birthday, I reminded Matt, “It’s your mom’s birthday today. Be home early.” He promised he would, then left for work. I took the day off. I packed my suitcases. Then I picked up the sledgehammer I’d bought and started swinging. Three hours later, our beautiful home was a wasteland of shattered plaster and broken furniture. I dragged my suitcases out, took the gift, and drove straight to my in-laws’ house. When I arrived, Maya was already there. She saw me and wrapped her arm around mine as if nothing was wrong. “Chloe! You’re finally here! We’ve been waiting for you.” She led me to a seat and brought me a glass of water, acting for all the world like she was the lady of the house. My mother-in-law sat there, beaming at her, seeing nothing amiss. My heart sank even further. They all knew. I was the only one who didn’t. “Where’s Matt?” I asked. It was already six. He should have been here. I was about to text him when Maya spoke up. “Matt said he has a last-minute meeting. He’ll be about half an hour late.” A humorless smile touched my lips. “He’s certainly honest with you. He never mentioned it to me.” Maya blinked, then forced a laugh. “Oh, I didn’t know! I just overheard his mom on the phone with him.” “I just got here myself,” she added quickly. “Matt said the more, the merrier!” My mother-in-law jumped in. “Yes, Matt’s just so busy. He took a whole month off for the honeymoon, so he has a lot of catching up to do. You have to be understanding, Chloe.” Before I could reply, Maya squeezed my shoulder, smiling sweetly at my mother-in-law. “Our Chloe is the most understanding person I know. Of course she gets it, right?” I said nothing. Half an hour later, just as predicted, Matt arrived. He came straight to my side and started peeling an orange for me. We all sat down for dinner. The maid brought out the dishes. I presented my gift. “Happy birthday, Mom. This is for you.” My mother-in-law took the box and opened it. Inside was the wallet. Maya gasped beside me. “Ooh, the monogram print! Chloe, you have great taste! That must have cost a fortune.” “Two thousand dollars,” I said flatly. My mother-in-law immediately pushed the box aside. “It’s too much! No, no, Chloe. You and Matt work hard for your money. Don’t be so extravagant.” “It’s fine, Mom,” I replied, my voice light. “If I don’t spend his money, he’ll just spend it on another woman. I’d rather you have it.” She froze. “Don’t say such silly things, dear.” I just smiled. “There’s more underneath.” When my mother-in-law found the smaller box at the bottom and opened it, her face turned pale. “Chloe, what is the meaning of this?” Matt snatched my wrist. “Chloe, what are you doing? You don’t take back a gift you’ve given!” Maya patted my arm. “Chloe, don’t be foolish. This is a very bad omen.” I looked at their faces—the shock, the fear, the panic. Matt took the bracelet and tried to force it back onto my wrist. I pulled my hand away and stood up. “You’re right. I am returning it. And I want a divorce.”

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My father hired a pair of orphaned sisters as bodyguards for my brother and me. The older one, Stella, was quick, sharp-eyed, and fell for my brother, Liam, the moment she saw him. That left me with the younger sister, Maya. The one with the silence. I didn’t want to see her sent back to the group home, back to the bullies and the loneliness, so I accepted her. She never spoke, so I took her to every top psychiatrist on the East Coast. I carved out two hours every single day to tell her jokes, to read to her, anything to get a response, even though one never came. She couldn’t protect me, so I learned martial arts, built myself up from nothing, and begged my father not to send her away. I thought she was just wounded. I thought if I was patient enough, she would heal. Then came the day the yacht overturned. In the chaos of the churning water, she clawed the last life vest off my body. And for the first time, she spoke to me. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice raw. “But Liam’s is broken.” Liam. My brother. She watched as I began to sink, her hand squeezing mine one last time. “I owe you a debt in this life,” she whispered, her eyes holding mine as the cold water closed over my head. “I’ll repay it in the next.” So, it turned out her silence was only for me. When I opened my eyes again, I was standing in the grand foyer, back on the day we were meant to choose our bodyguards. 1 I stood before the two sisters, frozen. My brother, Liam, glanced at me, his perfect brow furrowed with concern. He bit his lip. “You know what? I’ll take Maya,” he announced, his voice ringing with false martyrdom. “Ethan isn’t as strong. He needs someone quick and alert, like Stella, to protect him.” With a flourish, he stepped away from the visibly sharp Stella and positioned himself beside the silent, withdrawn Maya. I could see the panic flash in Stella’s eyes. I still didn’t move, my mind reeling, trying to process the impossible reality of being back here. In my first life, I had hesitated then, too, after Liam and Stella had made their instant connection. Seeing my indecision, Liam had offered to switch bodyguards with me. Looking at his pained expression now, I remembered how I’d truly believed he was trying to give me the better protector. I thought he was looking out for me, so I refused, adamant that he shouldn’t be disadvantaged. I couldn’t bear to see my brother lose out, and I couldn’t stand the thought of Maya being sent back to that place. It was all a lie. When the yacht went down, Liam had made a show of refusing my life vest, but he’d stood perfectly still while both sisters strapped it onto him. His own bodyguard, Stella, was a certified lifeguard. There was a piece of floating debris right next to him. But he only offered a few token protests. That was Liam’s signature move. He always knew I’d refuse any offer that required someone else to sacrifice for me. He lost nothing, yet he always walked away with the reputation of a handsome, selfless saint. But this time, I just nodded. “Fine.” Liam’s face, perfectly arranged to display reluctant acceptance of my refusal, went rigid. He wasn’t the only one stunned. Maya’s head snapped up, her vacant eyes suddenly sharp, fixed on me. They were filled with a confusion and shock that mirrored my own. “No!” My father’s voice boomed through the hall. “You are the eldest son of the Reed family, Liam. Your safety is paramount. This girl has autism—she can’t even speak. She is not fit to protect you.” A cold, bitter laugh almost escaped me. So, he knew about Maya’s condition all along. Yet he’d brought her here anyway. This whole charade of letting us “choose” was just for show. “But…” Liam started, a wave of relief washing over his features as he subtly wiped a non-existent tear from his eye. He was about to launch into another performance when Maya spoke. “I can speak.” My head shot up in astonishment. The Maya from my past life, the one who hadn’t uttered a single word for seven years, was speaking now? I saw it then, an awareness in her eyes that didn’t belong to a girl her age. And I knew, with chilling certainty— She was reborn, too. So much for repaying me in the next life. Given a second chance, the first thing she did was ensure she wouldn’t be stuck with me again. But she didn’t know. I didn’t want her anymore. “As for my capabilities,” Maya continued, her voice steady and clear, “you are welcome to test them again, sir.” I didn’t doubt her skills for a second. After I died, my spirit had watched her, a phantom observer. I saw her fight to protect Liam until help arrived, saw her single-handedly drive a gaff hook through the head of a bull shark. The irony was laughable. In my first life, I’d learned to fight for myself, terrified my father would deem her useless—this “helpless” girl—and send her back to the orphanage. Of course, once Maya dropped the act, it took her only three moves to pin the national martial arts champion my father kept on staff to the floor. My father’s resolve began to waver. The pained expression on Liam’s face vanished, replaced by a glimmer of interest. Between the two sisters, Maya was always the more beautiful one. If it hadn’t been for her supposed condition, Liam would have chosen her from the start. “Very well,” my father conceded. “Maya will serve you, Liam. Stella, the second son will be in your care.” At our father’s decree, Stella shot a glance in my direction. Her eyes landed on the scar that marred the left side of my face, and her nose wrinkled in a flicker of disgust. She took a step back and bowed her head. “Sir, I would rather you sent me back to the orphanage.” 2 “What is the meaning of this?” my father asked, his brows knitting together. “A salary of half a million dollars a year isn’t enough to keep you? You’d prefer to go back to a place where you’ll have nothing?” Stella couldn’t hide the revulsion she felt looking at my face. “I am not worthy of serving the second young master.” I let out a quiet sigh. Ever since I got this scar at ten years old saving Liam, my face had been a source of disgust for others. Perhaps that was part of why Maya had treated me the way she did in our first life. “Stella! Are you just going to abandon my brother?” Liam cried out, grabbing her arm, trying to pull her to her feet. Stella looked at him, her eyes shining with an unmistakable adoration. “I didn’t come here for him.” I remained silent. Liam quickly masked a flicker of pleasure, arranging his face into a frown of disapproval. “No! That’s absurd! I won’t let you go back there to suffer!” “What’s the difficulty?” I said, my voice cutting through the drama. “Why don’t you just take both of them, Liam? It seems they’re both yours for the asking.” Liam’s face flushed. “What… what are you talking about?” From the moment the Chen sisters walked in, my brother’s eyes hadn’t left them. He wanted them both. My father looked at me, his expression thoughtful. “You really don’t want a bodyguard?” “I don’t,” I said plainly. “I’m not interested in either of them.” Both sisters turned to look at me then, their expressions a mixture of surprise and indignation, as if wondering what right I had to refuse them. Maya’s gaze was more complex, something deeper than simple curiosity. I couldn’t read it, and I no longer had the desire to try. “And what about your safety?” my father pressed. “Can you guarantee it yourself?” “Probably not,” I admitted, shaking my head. My father stared, taken aback. “Which is why you should send me to work with Claire,” I continued. “She has a whole security team.” 3 In my past life, I had poured all my energy into Maya. I’d even neglected my role in the family business. I wasn’t like Liam. My father paid lip service to loving us equally, but the trust fund was only ever in Liam’s and my older sister Claire’s names. Claire was out on her own, a titan in the tech world, making the family trust grow exponentially year after year. Liam’s annual dividends alone were more than most people make in a lifetime. Meanwhile, I had to practically beg our father for the money to cover Maya’s medical bills. If I wanted to raise my own standing, I had to get in the game. Claire, my rarely-seen sister who had little time for the family’s disfavored spare, didn’t even meet with me. Her assistant threw a menial position my way, and that was that. I wasn’t angry. I just put my head down and worked. I’d never explored this side of myself before. Now, discovering my own aptitude for business was a revelation, even to me. After I closed the deal with a notoriously difficult investor, Claire finally granted me an audience. She threw me a welcome party, three months late, and started handing over significant parts of her portfolio. The company had hit a plateau and desperately needed new blood. As much as she might favor Liam, she couldn’t afford to ignore me. Slowly, my reputation in the business world began to eclipse Liam’s fame for his good looks. One evening, returning home, Liam blocked my path. “Ethan,” he said, his tone dripping with faux concern. “Don’t you think you’re being a little… loud?” I frowned. “You’re making headlines everywhere. I’m not trying to bring you down, brother, but a rapid success like this is mostly luck. If you crash and burn, you’ll be dragging the Reed family name down with you.” He paused, then glanced meaningfully toward where Maya was standing in the distance. “Besides, with your… your face… being so high-profile won’t attract the right kind of attention from women.” He sighed dramatically. “Look, why don’t you stop bothering Claire? I’ll take you under my wing.” I cut straight to the point. “You’re afraid I’ll steal your spotlight, aren’t you?” He froze. “On what grounds are you telling me to keep a low profile, Liam? As the family’s golden boy? The primary trust fund beneficiary? No matter how you slice it, you’ve already won. What gives you the right to stand on your pedestal and tell me not to fight for my own?” “Ethan, you…” His eyes immediately welled up. I gave him no quarter. “Since you brought up my scar, let me ask you something. Have you forgotten what you did when we were ten? I stepped in to protect you from a mugger. If you hadn’t shoved me forward, I wouldn’t have stumbled right into his knife. This face wouldn’t be ruined.” Liam clapped a hand over his mouth, fat tears plopping onto his hand. “You don’t have to cry. You’re not the one who was wronged. Just go back to being the perfect son.” I turned to leave, but he broke into a choked sob, his whole body shaking with manufactured pain. “That’s not it, Ethan… I never meant for that to happen… I’m just worried about you… How could you think that of me?” His tears hit the marble floor, one by one. “That’s enough!” Stella, who had been standing silently behind Liam, rushed forward and wrapped her arms around him. “You’ve gone too far, Ethan!” Liam immediately tried to placate her, shaking his head through his tears. “It’s okay, Stella, I’m fine… really…” he whispered, his shoulders trembling. A flash of pain crossed Maya’s face. She looked directly at me. “You went too far,” she said, her voice cold and even. “Apologize.” I thought I’d misheard her. But Maya just stared at me, her expression unyielding. Crack. The sound of my hand connecting with her cheek echoed in the hallway. Liam gasped, rushing to shield her. “Ethan! How could you hit her!” I flexed my stinging hand. “You should learn to control your people, Liam. Otherwise, they might forget who signs the checks and who cashes them.” “You!” Stella hissed, her jaw tight with rage. Maya cradled her cheek, her eyes wide with a surprise I had never seen before. I turned and walked away without giving any of them another chance to speak. My plan was to pack my bags that night and leave, to never see Liam or those two women again. But the next morning, a frantic pounding rattled my bedroom door. Stella burst in the second I opened it, completely ignoring the intrusion. She grabbed my arm in a vice grip. “Liam’s been kidnapped! You’re coming with me!” 4 Thankfully, the martial arts I’d learned in my first life served me well. I twisted free, shoving her back. “Show some respect,” I snapped. “And what kidnapping? What does that have to do with me?” “You have the nerve to ask?” Stella’s eyes were bloodshot, as if she’d been up all night. “If you hadn’t said those awful things to him, he never would have run out of the house crying! He never would have been grabbed by his enemies! This is all your fault, and you’re going to go and switch places with him right now!” The front door flew open, and Maya stood there, her face pale and drawn. She looked up at us on the landing. “Is Liam back yet?” Stella held up my arm like a trophy. “No. But the kidnappers are offering an exchange. It was Ethan’s fault Liam was taken. It’s time for him to make amends.” “Let go of me!” I slapped Stella hard across the face. “You’re a bodyguard. Who gave you the right to lay hands on me?” A red handprint bloomed on her cheek, but her eyes held no remorse. “My apologies, sir. But this isn’t your decision to make. For Liam’s sake, we’ll accept the consequences of insubordination.” She tightened her grip on my arm and yelled over her shoulder, “Maya! Help me!” Against Stella, I might have been able to hold my own for a few moments. But Maya was different. The world tilted as I was slammed to the ground. Maya’s black leather boot appeared in my line of sight. I struggled against Stella’s hold, knowing that the outcome of this fight rested entirely on Maya. I looked up at her, my voice raw with desperation. “Maya, help me… I’m begging you, please!” A muscle twitched in her jaw. She closed her eyes for a brief second, and when she opened them, she whispered one word. “Sorry.” Then, a crushing weight as both women pinned me to the floor. 5 On the way to the exchange, Maya rode in the car with me, her eyes never leaving my face. “You were reborn, too,” she said, breaking the silence. “Yes,” I answered, my voice like ice. “And you’re still just as cruel to me as ever.” She paused, then murmured, “I’m sorry.” Crack. The sharp sound of another slap filled the car. “Of all the words in the world,” I said, my voice shaking with rage, “those three mean the least to me.” Her head was turned to the side, her hair obscuring her expression. “I promise,” she said, her voice low and heavy, “this is the last time.” Her hand covered mine, her grip surprisingly tight. “We get him out. That’s all. A bodyguard’s final duty. After that, I swear I’ll move heaven and earth to get you out safely.” I just laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. She squeezed my hand harder. “This is just a tactic, Ethan. I won’t let them hurt you for real.” The exchange took place in a desolate, abandoned wasteland. As Liam and I passed each other, he broke into a frantic run. “Maya! Stella!” I whipped my head around just in time to see Maya rush forward, catching him in her arms. Stella was already at his side, skillfully cutting the ropes from his wrists. Maya held him tight, her hands trembling. I could read her lips, even from a distance. I’m so sorry… I didn’t protect you… A strange, cold feeling washed over me. I thought I had prepared myself for this, for being the one who didn’t matter. A rough hand grabbed me, pulling me back to my new reality. Before I could say another word, a cloth was stuffed in my mouth, silencing me completely. 6 I’d been in the dark room for three days. There was barely an inch of skin on my body that wasn’t bruised or broken from the lashings. The leader of the group threw something against the wall in frustration. “Aren’t you a Reed? The second son? Then why the hell hasn’t a single penny shown up in three days! Are you even who you say you are?” I managed a weak, bitter smile. The Reed family only had one real son. And it wasn’t me. “I’ll give you one last chance.” The man approached me, holding a syringe. “This is going to amplify your pain by a factor of ten. You’re going to call your family. If they agree to send the money immediately, I’ll let you go. If not,” he grinned, “I guess we’ll just have to mail them your fingers.” “What? No… ah!” The fluid burned as it entered my neck, and my breathing instantly became ragged. “Call!” A phone was thrust into my hand. I scrolled through my contacts. My father and sister’s lines were busy. Liam’s went unanswered. Then, Maya… “Hello?” “Maya!” I gasped, clinging to her voice like a lifeline. “You have to bring the money! They injected me with something… they’re going to cut off my fingers!” The sound of loud, thumping music blasted through the receiver. I was stunned. “What… what are you doing?” “Ethan,” her voice was strained. “It’s Liam’s birthday. We can’t ruin it.” My eyes widened in disbelief. “What are you saying?” “Just hold on a little longer. After the party’s over, I’ll come get you.” “But if you don’t come now, they’re going to—” “Ethan,” she cut me off, her tone sharp with annoyance. “It’s just one night. Can you please not cause a scene?” The lead kidnapper let out a cold, cynical laugh. He’d already given up hope. My body trembled, but I forced the words out through gritted teeth. “But you promised. You promised you wouldn’t let them hurt me for real.” There was a moment of silence on her end. “Be good,” she said softly. “Just endure it a little longer.” Then she hung up.

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