Category: English

My best friend suggested I use a burner account to test my fiancé. So I did. I created a fake profile and gave her the username, telling her it was his. The second she added it, she went to work. One minute she was trashing me, telling my “fiancé” I had a train of men behind me and was damaged goods. The next, she was spamming the account with her own pictures—low-cut tops, long legs, ass pushed out. “Hey stranger 😉 Up for something fun?” “I’m a good girl. I do what I’m told.” I typed back: “I don’t believe you. Unless…” The next day, at the company’s all-hands meeting, my best friend was hauled out on a stretcher by paramedics, convulsing from a foreign object vibrating inside her. 1 The moment Liam asked me to marry him, something shifted in my best friend, Mia. A subtle cloud passed over her face. Was she worried I was going to get hurt? It didn’t make sense. Liam was the entire package: tall, handsome, smart, from a good family. He was completely devoted to me. You couldn’t find a flaw on the man if you hired a private investigator. Maybe she was just afraid she’d see less of me after the wedding. I tried to soothe her fears. “I know Liam loves to travel, but don’t worry. I’ll bring you back a souvenir from every single place we go.” That only seemed to make it worse. No amount of cajoling worked. I was getting frustrated. “Mia, what is going on with you?” I finally asked. She’s been my best friend since elementary school. We’re practically sisters. She’s been there for every major moment of my life, and I couldn’t stand the thought of her holding some secret resentment about my marriage, about Liam. Mia picked at a loose thread on her sleeve. “Chloe,” she started, her voice hesitant. “I’m just… I’m worried about Liam. Don’t you think getting engaged was a little… impulsive?” A cold knot formed in my stomach. Did she know something? Had Liam done something? Seeing the alarm on my face, she quickly backpedaled. “No, no, it’s just a healthy suspicion! Think about it. What man doesn’t have a wandering eye? Especially a guy like Liam. He’s got everything going for him, women are constantly throwing themselves at him. Why would he be so completely fixated on you? You’re great, but… you know.” I narrowed my eyes. “What does that mean? Are you saying I’m not good enough for my own fiancé?” “Of course not!” she said, a little too quickly. “I just mean that marriage is forever. You should be absolutely, one-hundred-percent sure about his character before you commit. What if he shows his true colors after you’re married? Cheating, abuse… Your whole life could be ruined.” I hesitated. “So what are you suggesting I do?” Her eyes lit up. She grabbed my hand, her grip surprisingly tight. “Give me his number. I’ll make a new account, add him, and test him. If he can resist the temptation, then we’ll know he’s a good guy. Then I’ll feel okay giving you away.” Something about it felt wrong immediately. It was a blatant show of distrust, and it just wasn’t my style. But Mia was relentless. Finally, to shut her up, I told her I’d think about it. When I got home, my mind was racing. I decided to do what I should have done from the start: tell Liam. We were supposed to be partners. Honesty was everything. Better to air this out now than to play stupid games. If there was a real problem, we’d deal with it. I explained the situation, bracing myself for his anger. Instead, he just laughed. It was a full, genuine laugh that echoed in our apartment. He pulled me into his arms, stroking my hair. “Are you sure she’s your best friend and not some enemy spy trying to sabotage us?” he chuckled. “That’s a new level of shady. The girl is practically radiating desperation.” I bristled, pushing away from him. “Don’t talk about her like that. We’ve been friends for over a decade. We’re not going to let a man come between us.” Liam’s smile faded. He looked like he wanted to say more, but he held his tongue. Instead, he offered a different solution. “Okay, how about this? You create a burner account. Give her that username and tell her it’s me. Then you can chat with her yourself.” He smirked. “Let’s see how she plans on ‘testing’ me.” Just then, my phone buzzed. A message from Mia, pestering me for his contact info. A slow grin spread across my face. Perfect. I created a new profile in seconds and sent the username to Mia. Almost instantly, a friend request popped up on the burner. The first message followed. “Hey there, handsome. ;)” I thought for a moment, trying to channel Liam’s direct, no-nonsense tone. “Who is this?” Her reply was instantaneous. “Who I am isn’t important. What’s important is that your girlfriend is playing you for a fool, sleeping around behind your back while you get ready to wife her up.” My breath caught in my throat. I stared at the screen, the words blurring. This was her test? To slander me? I took a few deep breaths, forcing my trembling hands to steady as I typed. “What are you talking about? What about my girlfriend?” A sympathetic hug emoji appeared. “You’ve been lied to. She puts on this innocent act, but in college, she was legendary. Juggled multiple guys at once. Her reputation was garbage.” “For a thrill, she used to hook up with the foreign exchange students. Tons of people saw her going back to their dorms with two or three of them at a time.” “She even had some nasty STD for a while. Had to get treated for… you know… growths down there. It was disgusting.” “I know you two are about to get married, and I just can’t stand by and watch a good, decent guy like you get conned by a woman like her.” She followed it up with a string of kissy-face emojis. This was my best friend. My sister. Smearing my name, fabricating the most vicious lies, all under the guise of helping me. White-hot rage flooded my veins. I forced myself to stay calm, to play the part. “Do you have any proof of this? Or are you just making shit up?” “I have pictures from college. And screenshots of her texts. You want to see them?” How was that possible? Before I could even ask, my phone buzzed with a flood of incoming files. I opened them, my stomach churning. And there they were. They were real. But they were twisted. Screenshots of conversations, edited and spliced together to look incriminating. Messages sent from accounts with my profile picture, saying things I would never say. The photos were from my study abroad program—group pictures with other students from around the world. But the way Mia had packaged it, combined with the specificity of her lies—the dates, the places—it was terrifyingly convincing. If she sent this to anyone else, they would believe it. The “evidence” was right there. The anger peaked and then collapsed into a profound, hollow sadness. I was the fool. I’d been so good to her. The first person I called with any good news. The person I defended unconditionally, no matter what. Why? Why would she do this to me? A second later, I had my answer. After giving “Liam” a few minutes to process the shock, she sent another message. “I know you and your girlfriend. I know all the things she tries to hide. I can only imagine how you’re feeling right now.” “A woman like that doesn’t deserve you. You give her everything, and she throws it in your face.” Then, the pivot. “You should look at me instead. I’ve been watching you for a while. I feel for you.” “If I had an amazing boyfriend like you, I would never, ever cheat. I’d cherish you.” I actually laughed out loud, a bitter, sharp sound. So that was it. Liam was right. She was trying to steal him. To seal the deal, she sent a volley of photos. No face, just body parts. A shot looking down her low-cut shirt. A picture of her legs, crossed just so. Her bending over in a pair of tiny shorts. The caption read: “I know you’re hurting. Let me help you forget about that bitch. Come out and play.” Liam saw the look on my face, the raggedness of my breathing. He gently took the phone from my hands. “Don’t let her get to you,” he said softly, then raised his hand as if taking an oath. “I swear, Chloe. I would never be interested in a two-faced snake like Mia. You’re the only one I love.” “See her for who she is, and then we cut her out of our lives. We never have to deal with her again.” A twisted smile touched my lips. I took the phone back. “Oh, no,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “I can’t let her get away with this. She took her shot. Now it’s my turn.” I typed a reply. “Who are you? Why should I believe a total stranger?” She responded instantly. “You’ll know when we meet. I promise, it’ll be a pleasant surprise.” For the next few days, I played the part of a heartbroken, confused Liam. I’d text Mia sporadically, never agreeing to break up with myself, just keeping her on the hook. She was getting impatient. Her messages grew bolder. “Hey stranger. You up for some fun?” “I’m a good girl. I do what I’m told. ;)” “Don’t worry, I can keep a secret. I’ll be your perfect little dirty secret. Your girlfriend will never have to know.” At the same time, she was probing me in person, asking how things were with Liam. I put on my best performance, letting my shoulders slump, my voice laced with sadness. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him,” I’d sigh. “He’s been so distant lately.” “It’s like he’s upset about something, but he won’t tell me what. He’s always hiding his phone, texting someone in secret.” Then I’d look at her, my eyes wide with fake worry. “You tested him, right? You didn’t find anything weird, did you?” I watched her face closely. A flicker of panic in her eyes, quickly masked by a triumphant smirk. She covered her mouth with her hand, feigning a giggle. “Nope, everything was totally normal! Liam was a perfect gentleman. You shouldn’t be so suspicious. Maybe he’s just stressed about work. Give him some space.” That night, Mia escalated her attack. She sent a new batch of photos, these ones practically pornographic, the text messages a desperate, vulgar plea. Fighting back a wave of nausea, I saved every screenshot. Then I replied. “We’ve been talking for a while now. I need to see some real commitment from you. How do I know I can trust you?” She saw her opening. “How can I prove it to you?” she asked eagerly. A cold, sharp smile spread across my face. I licked my lips. “Honestly? I like a girl who’s uninhibited. More fun to play with.” “My girlfriend looks innocent, but she’s secretly a freak. I’m kind of sick of it. It feels… dirty.” “You get it, right? I want a girl who’s only wild for me. A girl who’s up for anything.” She assured me she was that girl. So much more adventurous than me. And clean, of course. No messy history. So, I gave her the first task. “So you’re that desperate for a man, huh, you little slut?” “Good. Send me your address. I’m mailing you a package. Do exactly what I tell you to.” “You pull this off, and I’ll agree to meet you.”

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I was on the Acela Express, heading north out of the city, when I saw him: the kind of handsome that makes you stop breathing for a second, watching porn on his phone. He wasn’t even using headphones. “Hey,” I whispered, leaning over the armrest. “You might want to turn that down.” He didn’t look up. “It’s my home security feed.” “Oh. My bad.” I sank back into my seat. “Sorry about that… man.” What else do you say to a guy watching his own cheating partner? He finally glanced at me, and his eyes were pure murder. Still, I felt a pang of sympathy for him. That is, until I saw the tattoo in the video. A familiar, intricate design of a succubus, its wings wrapped around the man’s bicep. My blood went cold. No. Fucking. Way. 1 “Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit!” I snatched the phone from his hand, my face so close to the screen I could feel the static. My fingers were trembling. It wasn’t possible. The universe couldn’t be that cruel, that specific. But the lean, muscular man on the screen, naked from the waist up with a stomach I knew better than my own—that was Liam. We grew up together. We’d been together for eight years. I’d know him anywhere. We were supposed to get married next month. The thought hit me like a physical blow. My eyes instantly flooded, and my chest felt like it had been split wide open, a cold wind howling through the new, empty space. He was cheating on me. Liam was cheating on me. “Someone’s excited,” the guy next to me drawled, a smirk playing on his lips. He was watching me now, his chin propped on his hand. “First time seeing the main event?” He was right. It was the first time I’d seen Liam from this angle. Right now, my fiancé was kneeling before a pair of legs in black stockings, a gleaming silver chain fastened around his neck. The raw, explicit image slammed into my brain. The woman’s ecstatic moans filled the air from the phone’s tiny speakers. It was all too much. My stomach lurched, my throat tightened, and a wave of nausea crested over me. I turned and threw up, the contents of my stomach landing squarely in the handsome stranger’s lap. Oh, wow. That’s… vivid. “Agh—!” He let out a strangled cry, clamping a hand over his nose and mouth as he shot up from his seat, scrambling for the restroom. A few minutes later, he returned, a dark, wet patch staining the front of his expensive-looking jeans. The murderous look was back in his eyes, tenfold. But I didn’t give him a chance to tear into me. The train was pulling into the station. My station. I had to find Liam. I had to get an explanation. I needed to slap his face until my hand went numb and then I needed to—well, let’s just say I had plans for his “equipment.” I grabbed my bag and stood over the guy. “Where do you live? Take me there. Now.” He raised an eyebrow, a look of incredulous disgust on his face. “What, you didn’t get enough of the show? You want a front-row seat?” “Don’t you?” I shot back. He studied me, his suspicion warring with a dawning realization. “Look, I obviously do, but what’s it to you? If you’re into this stuff, I can give you some websites, you don’t have to get… weird about it.” Right. I was being weird. It was my own fault. I was trying so hard to hold it together, to be angry and strong, but the tears were streaming down my face now, hot and unstoppable. His expression softened slightly as he took in my red, swollen eyes. Comprehension finally clicked into place. “Oh, fuck. No way. You’re telling me that’s your…?” “He’s my fiancé,” I choked out. “The one I’m supposed to marry next month.” He sucked in a sharp breath. For a moment, all the animosity vanished, replaced by a flicker of something else. He looked at me, dead serious, and said, “My condolences.” “Save it,” I sniffled, wiping my nose with the back of my hand. “We’re in the same goddamn boat. So, are you coming or not? We have a cheating to catch.” A slow, dangerous grin spread across his face. “Catching them? Oh, we’re going to do a hell of a lot more than that.” 2 On the way to his house, I learned his name was Rhys, and the woman in the video was his fiancée. He was supposed to be in Boston for a business trip but had decided to come back a day early to surprise her for her birthday. Looks like the surprise was on him. “So what were you coming here for?” he asked, his tone casual as he navigated the highway. My heart was a lead weight in my stomach. The last thing I wanted was small talk. I just wanted this nightmare to be over. “A psychic told me I had a dark cloud over my head today,” I mumbled. “Came to see if she was right.” The truth, of course, was much more mundane. I was coming to finalize wedding details with Liam. The caterer, the seating charts—all the little things you can’t sort out over text. He’d been on this consulting gig for weeks, too busy to come home, so I’d decided to come to him. I was supposed to be surprising him, too. “Holy shit, they’re still going at it,” Rhys said, his eyes flicking down to the phone mounted on his dashboard. He let out a low whistle. “I’ll give him this, your boyfriend’s got stamina. Is he… always this adventurous?” I forced a smile that felt more like a grimace. I didn’t know what to say. Because the Liam I knew, the man I slept next to, was a completely different person from the one on that screen. It was like I’d never met him at all. “Oh, look at that. He’s brought out the candles and the whip. Check out the arch on your boyfriend’s back… Damn, makes you just want to smack it.” He held the phone out to me. I recoiled. “Stop it. Aren’t you embarrassed?” “Embarrassed? Are you kidding me? This is exhilarating!” He threw his head back and laughed, a wild, unhinged sound. “What a rich and beautiful life experience!” I decided not to engage. The man was clearly unhinged. I stared out the window, watching the green blur of the suburbs fly by. My heart was pounding against my ribs, my palms slick with sweat. Was I really ready for this? What would I even say when I saw Liam? Forget saying anything. I’d just act. The rage was already simmering, a pressure building inside me. To not let it out now would be like holding in a sneeze. Unnatural. Unhealthy. I took a deep breath, steeling myself. The car turned into a private, gated community, the kind with sprawling lawns and houses the size of hotels. So, Rhys was rich. Which meant his fiancée… Stop it, Clara, I scolded myself. Focus. “Don’t be nervous,” Rhys said, his voice strangely calm. “The first time catching a cheater is always the hardest. It gets easier.” He glanced at me. “I’ll go in first when we open the door. I’m worried the shock might make you… projectile vomit again.” “Okay. I’ll follow you.” I was wringing my hands in my lap, a bundle of nerves. “You, uh… you seem to have a lot of experience with this.” “Don’t ask,” he said with a wry grin. “Let’s just say I’m a man with a past.” There was no time to ask for more. We were here. 3 He parked in the driveway but didn’t immediately get out. Instead, he pulled out his phone and dialed. “Hey, babe. I’m home. Can you come down and open the door for me?” The voice on the other end was a flurry of panic. “Rhys? What… why are you back so early? I thought you weren’t coming until next week.” “Change of plans. What, not happy to see me?” “Of course I am! Just… just give me a second.” “What are you doing? You sound out of breath.” “Oh, you know. Just got off the Peloton.” “Alright. Well, I’m waiting. Hurry up.” He hung up and glanced at the security feed on his other phone, a wicked glint in his eye. “You’re being childish,” I said, my voice tight. “Just open the door.” “Where’s the fun in that?” He smirked. “Look at them scramble.” On the screen, two naked bodies were frantically pulling on clothes. I watched, mesmerized in horror, as Liam—my Liam—scrambled out of sight, disappearing under the bed. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I pulled out my own phone and dialed him. After a few rings, he picked up. “Where are you?” I asked, my voice dangerously sweet. “You didn’t answer before.” He whispered, his voice hushed and urgent. “I’m with a client, Clara. I told you this morning, it’s a huge meeting. Please don’t call unless it’s an emergency. I’ll call you when I’m done.” He hung up. Okay, Liam. Let’s see how you finish this meeting. Let’s see if you get out of there in one piece. “Ready?” Rhys asked. I took a shuddering breath. “Ready. Open it.” Click. The smart lock disengaged. A woman in a pink lace robe appeared in the doorway. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair a messy halo around her head. My eyes scanned the room behind her, instantly catching the black stockings peeking out of a half-closed dresser drawer. The ones from the video. The air in the room was thick with a cloying, fishy smell that made my stomach turn. I thought of the frantic images from the security feed, and the nausea returned. Breathe, Clara, breathe. The woman was wiping at her smeared lipstick, forcing a bright, flirtatious smile. “Silly, you could have just let yourself in. Making me come all the way downstairs. Honestly, honey.” Then her eyes landed on me. “And… who is this?” “Her?” Rhys said, stepping inside. “She’s here to catch a cheater.” “Wh-what?” “I said,” Rhys repeated, his voice dropping an octave, “she’s here with me to catch a cheater. Sloane, I think we can drop the act now, don’t you?” The woman, Sloane, was visibly panicking, but she held her ground. “What act? Rhys, what the hell are you talking about? Are you accusing me of cheating on you?” “Am I wrong?” “Where’s your proof?” Rhys let out a cold laugh. He held up his phone, the video playing in a loop. “I installed cameras weeks ago. Did you really think I was that stupid, Sloane? After last time? After everything you promised me?” He didn’t wait for an answer. In one fluid motion, he strode to the bed, grabbed the edge of the mattress, and flipped it into the air with a deafening thump. And there he was. My Liam. Curled up on the floor, still wearing that ridiculous silver chain around his neck, exposed to the world. 4 “Honey, it’s not what it looks like, I can explain!” Sloane grabbed Rhys’s arm, her voice pleading. “The bed was broken, he’s… he’s a handyman! I don’t even know him! I love you, you know I would never—” SLAP. The sound echoed in the silent room. I had yanked her away from Rhys and struck her across the face, my palm stinging. “I am so fucking sick of this!” I screamed, my voice raw. “There are cameras! We just told you there are cameras! Are you that stupid? Do you think we’re idiots?” She stared at me, stunned into silence. Rhys and Liam were frozen, their eyes wide. I had snapped. Something inside me had just completely and utterly broken. I was done talking. Done thinking. Why waste my breath? The words were just getting stuck in my throat anyway, choking me. Eight years of my life, our wedding next month, the man I loved hiding under another woman’s bed… The blood roared in my ears, a hot, violent rush to my head. My eyes met Liam’s, and the fury inside me exploded. I’d unconsciously grabbed a golf club from a bag leaning against the wall. Now, I swung it, the heavy iron connecting with his cheek with a sickening crack. “Weren’t you with a client?” I shrieked, swinging again. “So this is your client? All this time, and I never knew you moonlighted as a fucking gigolo? You make me sick, Liam! You’re disgusting! You don’t deserve to live!” I hit him again and again, screaming and crying, lost in a red haze of pure rage. Sloane, snapped out of her stupor, tried to pull me away. I shoved her back with my free hand and, in a blind fury, swept my arm across her vanity, sending a cascade of expensive perfumes and makeup crashing to the floor. I snatched a piece of the shattered mirror and lunged at her, scratching it across her face. She screamed, collapsing to the ground, a bloody mess, and didn’t move again. “Clara, calm down! Just listen to me, please!” Liam grabbed my wrist, his grip surprisingly strong, forcing me to look at him. “It’s not what you think!” “Not what I think? I saw it, Liam! I saw everything! You played me for a fool, and now you want me to be calm? Calm this!” I wrenched my arm free, grabbed a broken perfume bottle from the floor, and drove the jagged edge straight into his crotch. A gut-wrenching scream tore from his throat, a sound of pure agony that echoed off the walls. He collapsed, clutching himself, and didn’t get up. “You’re insane, Clara!” he gasped from the floor. “Yes! I am! You fucking drove me to this!” “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?” “I know exactly what I’m doing! I want you gone, you piece of shit! Isn’t it obvious?” I stood over his writhing form, my whole body shaking. “Eight years, Liam! I gave you eight years of my life! Do you have any idea what that means? We were getting married! Married! I was going to give you everything, and this is how you repay me?” The memories—the good ones, the ones I had cherished—flashed through my mind, and the anger finally gave way to a wave of gut-wrenching sorrow. I sank to my knees and sobbed, the sound raw and broken in the wrecked room. Suddenly, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I looked up to see Rhys, holding his phone up. “Hey,” he whispered, “try not to cry. I’m live-streaming this. It ruins the power dynamic.” “You’re… what? A live-stream?” I looked at his phone screen. The viewer count was ticking rapidly past one million. The world went dark at the edges, and I thought I was going to faint.

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1 I’m bound to the Lie-to-Riches System. For every lie someone tells me, I get $10,000. It was the first day of freshman year, and my new roommate introduced herself while decked out head-to-toe in designer brands. “Hi, everyone. I’m Stella Moss, Larry Vance’s fiancée. I hope we can all get along.” If she was Larry Vance’s fiancée, then who was I? As I stood there, stunned, my phone buzzed. A notification from my banking app: Deposit received: $10,000. I immediately texted my fiancé—whose own trust fund was currently frozen—and told him the news. It was time to start fleecing. … I stared at the $10,000 notification on my phone, my mind reeling. My other roommate, Jenna, was already fawning over Stella. “Welcome, Miss Moss! It’s an honor to be your humble roommate!” Stella swept into the dorm, her eyes landing on my faded t-shirt and worn-out sneakers with a look of undisguised contempt. She shoved her suitcase at me, her voice dripping with arrogance. “Unpack this. Put my clothes in the wardrobe and make my bed. From now on, you’ll be my personal assistant—fetching my coffee, doing my laundry, running my errands. You’ll be well-compensated, of course.” BZZZ. Another $10,000 hit my account. I almost laughed. I’d recognized Stella the moment she walked in. She was a charity case, a girl from a poor rural town my family had been sponsoring for years. I’d chosen her myself during a philanthropy trip when I was ten. With my family’s money, she not only had her basic needs covered but had repeatedly asked my father for extra cash for vacations and luxury makeup. Meanwhile, after I graduated high school, my family had frozen my accounts. It was their way of “building character,” forcing me to pay my own tuition and living expenses. I was working three jobs, running myself ragged just to make ends meet. A thought sparked in my mind. Since Stella clearly had no interest in using this opportunity to actually study, why shouldn’t I use her to my advantage? I could fleece her for all she was worth. Once I had enough seed money for my own business, I’d expose her and let her face the consequences. I set her suitcase on the floor, saying nothing. I was here to make money off her, not to be her servant. I pointed at the shoulder strap of her bag, where a single thread was loose, and plastered a sneer on my face. “Well, well, well! If it isn’t the high-and-mighty Miss Moss carrying a fake Hermès? A bag that expensive would never have a loose thread.” As I spoke, I pulled my own identical Hermès bag from my locker. Stella’s expression flickered. A flash of anger crossed her face, and her voice became shrill enough to shatter glass. “Of course it’s real! Don’t you know luxury brands are notoriously poor quality?” BZZZ. The Lie-to-Riches System activated again. Another $10,000. I could feel a giddy excitement bubbling up inside me; my hands were trembling. Jenna sneered at me. “She’s right! Everyone knows rich people only use their luxury items once! Ruby, is that a knockoff you bought from a street market?” Stella pinched her nose as if I were contaminated. “How can you be so shameless, carrying a fake? I despise social climbers. Just because your parents are poor farmers doesn’t mean you can pretend to be one of us!” She crossed her arms, looking down her nose at me. “Ruby, I have an entire wall of Hermès bags at home. If that bag of yours is real, I’ll eat shit.” BZZZ. BZZZ. BZZZ. $30,000. In an instant. My heart pounded. I’d always dreamed of starting my own business, but I never had the capital. Now, with just a few choice words, my startup fund was already 5% complete! I had to dig my nails into my thigh to keep from laughing out loud. Jenna clapped her hands, her voice oozing with fake admiration. “Ruby, you should thank Stella! She’s working so hard to show you the error of your ways!” I wasn’t angry. My gaze drifted from Stella’s bag to the four-leaf clover necklace around her neck. “Stella, is that the new Van Cleef & Arpels piece?” She touched the necklace, her chin held high. “Of course. My fiancé flew to Paris just to buy it for me.” As if by accident, I let the small magnet on my keychain swing near her neck. Click. The magnet snapped right onto her necklace. “Oh, dear! Miss Moss, why did your necklace stick to a magnet? I thought their pieces were 18-karat gold! Is that a fake?” I covered my mouth in mock horror, my voice dripping with sarcasm. Stella’s face turned beet red. She ripped the magnet off and threw it on the floor, her lips trembling. “This is absolutely real! It’s an SVIP custom piece from France! A country bumpkin like you wouldn’t understand!” BZZZ. Seeing the notification, I almost burst out laughing. The dorm room door was open, and a small crowd of students had gathered to watch the drama unfold. “But I heard the real ones aren’t magnetic,” someone whispered. “Is Stella’s necklace actually fake?” “Didn’t you hear her? It’s custom-made. Luxury brands always have special rules for their top clients.” “That makes sense! Ruby is just being jealous.” Suddenly, Stella’s eyes welled up with tears, her voice a fragile whisper. The performance was flawless. “Ruby, we’ve only just met. I don’t know why you’re targeting me. It’s not my fault I have a wealthy family and a handsome fiancé.” The students in the hallway immediately rushed to comfort her. Stella continued her saccharine act, and soon everyone was pointing fingers at me, calling me a bitter, jealous nobody. But I wasn’t angry. I was ecstatic. My phone had been buzzing non-stop. In just ten minutes, I had made over a hundred thousand dollars. My startup fund was 20% complete. Stella was my personal cash machine. And if she loved pretending to be Larry’s fiancée, why not bring Larry himself in on the scheme? I immediately sent Larry a text, telling him we needed to meet. I found him outside the campus dining hall. Our grandfathers were old war buddies, both highly decorated. They had come from nothing and believed in the value of hard work. To instill that same spirit in their descendants, they’d made a rule: all grandchildren had to earn their own way through college. And so, Larry and I had become a broke power couple. Our days were a blur of classes and part-time jobs—working shifts at a boba shop, handing out flyers, and running food delivery orders. We’d talked about starting a business, but we were still saving up for the initial investment. Over dinner, I told him everything: the Lie-to-Riches System, and Stella’s outrageous charade. He didn’t believe me. Not until I asked him if he had a secret stash of cash hidden somewhere. He shook his head, and my banking app instantly buzzed with a $10,000 deposit. Larry stared at my phone, then tearfully transferred the last $10 in his Venmo to me. “Larry,” I said, laying out my plan, “Stella is telling everyone she’s your fiancée. We can use this to fleece her. Once we have a million dollars for our startup, we’ll expose her!” His eyes lit up. A few days later, Freshman Orientation Week began. During a break, Larry showed up, handing out bubble tea to all the freshman groups. “Stella, your man is here!” a girl squealed, pushing her forward. “He must have come to see you!” The guys started hooting, waving Larry over. “Larry! Stella’s over here!” Stella shrank back, looking like she was about to faint. I smirked. “What’s wrong, Stella? Did you and Larry have a fight? He’s acting like he doesn’t even know you.” She swallowed hard, then practically shouted, “What are you talking about? Of course he knows me! Why else would he be here with bubble tea? He just hasn’t seen me yet! We were at a hotel together just last night!” Jenna immediately jumped to her defense. “Ruby, you’re sick! Why are you always hoping for the worst?” Other students chimed in. “Are you trying to steal her boyfriend? Even if they were fighting, Larry would never look at you!” “Everyone knows he’s a famously doting fiancé! He’s completely devoted to his childhood sweetheart!” I felt a wave of nausea, but the sweet scent of money quickly overpowered it. Stella was on a roll now, gushing about her fairy-tale romance. “He bought bubble tea for the entire school just for me. It’s his subtle, powerful way of showing his love. It’s a love you could never understand, Ruby.” She continued to spin her sickeningly sweet fantasy, and my phone vibrated relentlessly. Within minutes, another hundred thousand dollars had landed in my account. Just then, Larry started walking toward our group. Stella was pushed forward, stumbling right into his path. When Larry saw her, a flicker of disgust crossed his face. He exchanged a quick glance with me. “Sorry, guys,” he announced to the group. “Looks like we’re all out of bubble tea.” I snorted. “But Stella, I thought we were all getting free drinks on your account? How come the guest of honor doesn’t even get one?” Jenna looked confused. “Yeah, Stella, what’s going on? Didn’t you say he ordered this specially for you?” A few of the guys, sweating in the sun, started to complain. “I thought he was supposed to be this super-devoted fiancé! Why’s he letting you down like this?” Suddenly, Stella shoved me. Hard. I cried out, stumbling and falling to the ground. Across the field, I saw Larry tense, ready to run over. “What are you all staring at?” Stella snapped, her voice high and commanding. “Ruby, go buy us all water! My baby and I just decided that bubble tea is unhealthy. So, water for our group is on me!” The whole group cheered, immediately singing her praises. “Stella, you’re so thoughtful and generous!” A few of the guys turned on me. “Ruby, what are you waiting for? Get going!” “Are you deaf? Go! You want us to die of thirst?” BZZZ. Another $20,000. A thrill shot through me. I scrambled to my feet and ran to the campus Starbucks, ordering thirty iced coffees. I returned with the receipt and handed it to Stella with a fake smile. “Here you go. I’m sure a little bill like this is nothing to you, right?” A couple of girls scoffed. “Are you kidding, Ruby? As if someone like Stella would care about a few bucks.” “She’s from the countryside, what do you expect? So classless, making a big deal out of nothing.” “Right, Stella?” Stella took the receipt. Her eyes widened, and she looked like she’d just swallowed a bug. The total was nearly $200. “Right,” she said, her smile more pained than a grimace. “It’s nothing. I normally only drink glacial water flown in daily from overseas. It’s about a thousand dollars a bottle.” The group erupted in another round of cheers. When it came time to pay, there were tears in Stella’s eyes. Forking over that much money was like pulling teeth for her. I was secretly ecstatic. In just a few days, my startup fund was 40% complete! I had $400,000. Just a little longer, and I could finally expose her. Larry texted me: [Babe, are you okay? That psycho actually pushed you! I’ll get her back for this!]. On the last day of orientation, Larry deliberately let a rumor slip: that night, he was taking his fiancée home to the family estate for his grandfather’s birthday. After our last session, a group of girls swarmed Stella. “Stella, stop being so secretive! You’re going to the Vance estate tonight, aren’t you?” “We heard all about it! We’re so jealous!” Stella tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, affecting an air of nonchalance. “It’s not a secret. Going to the Vance estate for dinner is as normal as breathing for me. It’s nothing to talk about.” BZZZ. More money. The air filled with gasps of envy. I put on my best fake smile. “Stella, I’m so jealous! You must be staying the night, right? I won’t wait up for you, then.” Stella froze, the words catching in her throat. “Right. Don’t wait up. I’m staying over.” As soon as she said it, Jenna shot me a look of contempt. “Duh! Of course she’s staying over! Stop asking such stupid questions!” Someone else giggled suggestively. “If she’s staying at the Vance estate, maybe tonight they’ll… you know…” Stella pretended to blush, lowering her head, but the beads of sweat on her forehead gave away her panic. “Oh, stop it, you guys.” Larry’s revenge was swift and brutal. Of course, Stella didn’t go to the Vance estate. To keep up the lie, she left campus as her classmates watched her go, a vision of supposed glamour. But Ashton University was in the heart of the city, and the nearby hotels were ridiculously expensive. Stella was too cheap to pay for a room, but she was terrified of being spotted by other students at a park. According to one of the Vance family’s security guards, she ended up spending the night shivering under a remote overpass. The next day, she showed up to class with dark circles under her eyes, sneezing uncontrollably. The other students exchanged knowing, wicked smiles. Fighting back my disgust, I laid it on thick. “Stella, I heard the Vance family estate is a 7,000-square-foot mansion! It must be incredible! You’re so lucky. I’ve never even seen a mansion. Is your family home huge, too? Can you show us sometime? I’d love to see it!” The other girls’ eyes lit up. “Stella, we’ve never seen one either! Please! Let us come see it!” They pleaded, one of them even doing an exaggerated bow. Stella basked in the attention. But she was trapped. She touched the tip of her nose, looking troubled. “My family is… very private. Old money, you know. Very strict rules. My parents don’t allow me to bring strangers home.” BZZZ. $40,000! Everyone looked disappointed but understanding. But I wasn’t about to let her off the hook. “That’s okay!” I pressed on. “I saw in a news article that the Vance fiancée’s birthday is at the end of September. You could just invite us to your birthday party! I’m sure your parents wouldn’t mind that!” It was like a lightbulb went off over everyone’s heads. “Yes! We can celebrate with you! Your parents will totally understand!” “Stella, let us celebrate with you this year!” “You wouldn’t look down on us, would you, Miss Moss?” Stella looked like she was constipated. She finally forced the words out. “Fine. I’ll go home and discuss it with my family elders.” The room erupted in cheers. I almost cheered along with them. With that short exchange, on top of what I already had, my startup fund hit 80% completion! I was morbidly curious to see how she would squirm her way out of this one. That night, I got a call from our family’s estate manager. “Miss Lane, the student you sponsor has requested to hold her birthday party at the villa. Do you approve?” A slow, cold smile spread across my face. “Yes. Let her come.” The plan was working even better than I had imagined. A few days later, my earnings hit $900,000. The startup fund was 90% complete. The money was almost there. Soon, I would rip away Stella’s mask of lies and expose her for who she truly was.

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At my childhood friend’s wedding, just as the bride and groom were about to exchange rings, the bride suddenly snatched the microphone and turned to look directly at me. In an instant, a single, blinding spotlight swung from the altar and pinned me in my seat. Every head in the chapel turned. With all eyes on her, the bride, Sophia, walked slowly down the aisle until she stood before me. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and with a choked sob, she thrust her bouquet into my hands. “Amelia, please. I’m begging you.” “Ethan and I are married now. Please, have some sense of decency. Stop using the ‘just friends’ excuse to be so intimate with my husband, regardless of the time or place.” 1 A collective gasp swept through the guests. Those who didn’t know the situation were already shooting me looks of pure contempt. In the distance, I saw my mother’s face fall, her expression hardening like stone. Ethan’s face was even uglier than mine. He lunged forward, his brow furrowed as he tried to grab Sophia’s arm. “Sophia, are you insane? This is our wedding! What the hell are you doing?” She violently shook him off. The screech of microphone feedback pierced the air. Tears streaming down her face, she pulled out her phone. The screen showed Ethan’s social media profile. The background picture was their engagement photo. But the latest post was a picture of Ethan’s forearm, marked with a faint, old bite mark. The caption was what made it damning. “Getting married tomorrow, but I can’t forget you, or the mark you left on me.” “Look, everyone!” Sophia’s voice was a raw scream. “I’ve tolerated you being close with Amelia all this time!” “But to post this, right before our wedding, and set the privacy so only she could see it! Ethan, you tell me, what is this supposed to mean?” The color drained from Ethan’s face. Sophia shot me a cold, triumphant smirk. “Amelia! Since you need him so much, and since he’s so clearly obsessed with you, why didn’t you two just get together? Why keep that intimate bite mark as some kind of secret trophy? Are you both just playing me for a fool?” The stares of the guests felt like a thousand needles pricking my skin. I stood frozen, not out of shock, but out of sheer, dumbfounded exasperation. Me? Need Ethan? When have I ever needed Ethan? And that bite mark… what a joke. Until this very moment, I had always considered it a symbol of our mutual hatred. Ethan’s family and mine were next-door neighbors. Our mothers were best friends. By all accounts, we should have gotten along. But from the moment we could walk, he made it his mission to torment me. Tearing the ribbons from my hair and smearing mud on my dresses were his tamer tricks. The worst was when he threw my kitten into the deep end of his family’s pool and physically blocked me from getting help. I was so frantic, so utterly helpless, that I bit his arm with all the strength my small body could muster. That was over a decade ago. The fact that the scar is still visible is a testament to how viciously I bit him. It was also the day I started taking Muay Thai classes. After that, our dynamic shifted. I was the one pinning him to the ground until he finally learned to leave me alone. I’ve despised him my entire life. If it weren’t for our families’ history and the fact that his mother has always been kind to me, I wouldn’t have even shown up to this sham of a wedding. As for his social media post… Good lord. I had no idea. He’d always had a flair for overly dramatic, emo nonsense that polluted my timeline. I found it so annoying that I’d muted his profile years ago. With that thought, I opened my phone, navigated to my chat with Ethan, and turned the screen toward Sophia. The setting was clearly displayed: “Mute this person’s posts and stories.” Even our chat history was on silent mode. I scrolled through it. Aside from the occasional spammy link he’d sent, the most recent message was from last week—an invitation to his wedding. I hadn’t even bothered to reply. It was a pointless invitation. Given our families, my mother would have dragged me here by my hair if I’d refused. I took a deep, steadying breath. “I have no idea what kind of misunderstanding you two are having, but don’t you dare drag me into your mess to play the villain.” I shot a glare at Ethan, my jaw tight. “And for the record, that pathetic bite mark is from when he pushed me too far and I snapped! I wasn’t even in elementary school! God only knows why he’d post something so twisted about it.” Ethan, who had been trying to placate Sophia, froze. He looked at me, his eyes filled with a wounded, disbelieving expression. 2 Sophia’s hand, still holding the phone, hung in the air. A flash of surprise crossed her face, but she quickly doubled down, biting her lip. “But you can’t deny the inappropriate intimacy between you two!” “You spend all your time with a bunch of guys, acting like you’re one of them, but it’s all just a cover to stay attached to Ethan! There’s a limit to playing the ‘cool girl,’ Amelia! You have a fiancé, yet you’re still stringing my husband along. Have you no shame?” I let out a humorless laugh and looked at Ethan, who was now pretending to be part of the scenery. Just then, my friend Jake’s girlfriend, Chloe, spoke up with blunt honesty. “Sophia, are you sure you’re not mistaken? I’ve never seen Amelia act out of line.” Sophia faltered, turning her attack to Leo’s wife, Sarah. Sarah just smiled. “Sophia, you really have it all wrong. We’re all friends with Amelia because she’s a genuinely good person. She rarely organizes get-togethers; we’re always the ones begging her to come out.” “The building materials supplier my husband’s company needed? The design team for Jake’s new restaurant? The insider discount on Mark’s new car? That was all Amelia. She made those connections for us.” Leo tried to quiet his wife, but Sarah shot him a look that silenced him instantly. She glanced at Ethan, whose face was growing darker by the second, and added with a sly smile, “Amelia is the reason our group exists. Ethan has nothing to do with it. He only started hanging out with us because he’s her neighbor. We only put up with him for Amelia’s sake.” I silently gave Sarah a mental high-five. The truth was simple. We live in a small city. The business circle is tight. Our crew was solid, but the cornerstone, the one holding it all together, had always been me. My family made its fortune in renewable energy a few years back. I then started my own consulting firm and opened an exclusive bar, accumulating a network of high-profile clients. I became friends with Jake and Leo because our fathers knew each other, and we helped each other’s businesses grow. Ethan’s family ran a small construction supply business that had been failing for years; they were on the verge of bankruptcy. My mother, out of pity, had my father throw them a few contracts to stay afloat and insisted I include Ethan in my social circle. I was against it. I hold a grudge, and I’ve never forgotten the way he treated me as a child. But my mom’s relentless nagging wore me down, and I reluctantly let him tag along. I fixed my gaze on him. “What exactly were you trying to achieve with that post?” Ethan’s face turned the color of raw liver. His lips moved, but no words came out. Sophia’s expression soured, but she wasn’t ready to give up. “You’ve all been fooled by her! She’s just pretending to be above it all, showing off how successful she is to seduce men!” I frowned, my patience finally gone. It was her wedding day. I had been willing to let it slide, to endure the humiliation for the sake of peace. But she was pushing it, determined to smear my name. “Sophia, you need evidence to make accusations like that,” I said, my voice turning icy. “You’ve seen my chat history with Ethan. What more do you want?” She sneered. “If there’s nothing between you, why did he pour so much money into your bar? It’s a members-only club with a ridiculously high barrier to entry. As a woman running a place like that, you must have your methods for keeping wealthy clients around. Ethan recently dropped fifty grand on a membership. Are you going to tell me that’s not suspicious?” The venue fell silent. My mother, pale with rage, rushed to my side. “You say that one more time.” I gently pushed my mom back into her seat and stepped toward Sophia. “First of all, Ethan spending money at my bar is a normal business transaction. I didn’t force him.” 3 “And don’t you worry. I’ll have my manager refund every penny he hasn’t spent and post a notice at the entrance permanently banning him from the premises.” What a joke. My bar is a top-tier establishment that would hold its own in any major city. The renovations alone cost millions. My clientele consists of the city’s wealthiest and most influential people. Did she really think I needed Ethan’s chump change? Sophia froze, clearly not expecting me to be so decisive. “Even so, you can’t deny that you call him in the middle of the night! Why does he always rush out to meet you at ungodly hours?” “Last Wednesday, at two in the morning, he told me there was an emergency at your bar and ran out in his pajamas! Are you going to deny that you called him?” Her words even stunned me. I would never, ever contact Ethan. Besides, last Wednesday, my fiancé and I were on vacation out of state. As I was about to refute her, I caught a glimpse of panic in Ethan’s eyes. “Sophia, stop it! It’s all a misunderstanding! We can talk about this at home. Today is our wedding…” She ripped her arm from his grasp. “You need to tell me the truth right now! Is she the only one you love? Did you ever even want to marry me?” “Yes! I didn’t want to marry you!” Ethan suddenly roared, his composure shattering. He glanced at me, a wild, cornered look in his eyes. Sophia stared at him, her face a mask of disbelief. In the next second, all the color drained from her cheeks. “My stomach… it hurts…” Her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed in a dead faint. The scene erupted into chaos. Ethan, terrified, scooped her up and ran for the exit. My mother watched the pandemonium, her voice laced with worry. “Amelia, maybe we should go to the hospital, just to check…” I hesitated for a moment, then nodded, and we followed the ambulance. Outside the emergency room, Ethan was crouched against a wall, his face ashen. My mom tried to offer a few words of comfort to his mother, Wanda, but was met with a cold shoulder. My mom’s expression darkened, but before she could speak, the ER doors opened. A doctor emerged. “The patient is stable. The emotional distress caused a threatened miscarriage. She’ll need to be admitted for observation to ensure the pregnancy is safe.” Wanda’s face lit up with manic joy. She grilled the doctor, and after confirming Sophia was pregnant, she whirled on me, her eyes blazing with resentment. “Are you satisfied now, Amelia? If you hadn’t started a fight with Sophia at her own wedding, would she have almost lost my grandchild? You have a fiancé of your own, so why can’t you just leave my son alone?” She grew more agitated with every word. “Sophia was right! People need boundaries! If you don’t like my son, then stay away from him! Stop pretending to be his buddy while secretly seducing him, keeping one man on the hook while you look for another! You may have no shame, but we do!” “What nonsense are you spouting?” My mother stood up, her face a mixture of anger and disappointment. “Wanda, if I hadn’t convinced my husband to give your family business, you would have gone bankrupt years ago! And this is how you repay us? By slandering my daughter?” Wanda flinched, then changed her tone. “Amelia, dear, please. I’m begging you. You know my son’s… condition. The doctors all said it would be nearly impossible for him to have children. Now that Sophia is finally pregnant, that baby is our family’s lifeline! Just stay away from Ethan from now on, please!” “Mom! Stop it!” Ethan hissed, his face burning with humiliation at having his infertility broadcasted to the world. I scoffed and sent a quick text to my assistant, telling her to dig up Ethan’s recent movements and social media activity. I hadn’t called him in the middle of the night. Someone else had. And I wasn’t about to take the fall for it. 4 Just as I sent the message, Ethan approached me, hesitating. “Amelia, I know you’re innocent in all this, but… I’m finally going to be a father. This is so important to our family. For the sake of our childhood friendship, can you please just let this go? Don’t push her any further.” I rolled my eyes. “You should be thinking about what you did to make your wife so insecure in the first place.” He opened his mouth to say more, but was cut off by the sound of approaching footsteps. I turned. It was my fiancé, Liam. For once, his calm demeanor was replaced by a hint of urgency. “I’m sorry I’m late.” He was dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, clearly having come straight from the office. His handsome face was cold as he came to my side, his gaze sharp and commanding. “I’d appreciate it if certain people would conduct themselves with a little more dignity and stay away from my fiancée,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “And stop trying to blame her for your own messes.” Ethan flinched under Liam’s glare, a flicker of jealousy and fear in his eyes. After a tense moment, he turned and scurried back toward the ER. Liam watched him go, then gently smoothed my hair back, his tone softening. “Come on. I’m taking you and your mom home.” It was dark by the time we got back. I had just slipped off my shoes when my phone began buzzing relentlessly. It was my assistant. As I looked at the photos she sent, my eyes narrowed. So that’s why Sophia was so convinced I was the other woman. It was because… Before I could finish reading, a notification popped up on my screen. A trending local news post. “Boycott Local Socialite: Juggling Two Men and a Messy Private Life.” Someone had edited clips from the wedding, cutting out all context, making me look like the villain. The comment section was a cesspool of people calling me a manipulative “cool girl.” Thanks to the algorithm, I didn’t even have to search. A local livestream recommendation appeared. It was Sophia, broadcasting from her hospital bed. The title read: “The Price of Marrying a ‘Devoted’ Man: My Husband’s Affair with His ‘Best Friend’.” I clicked. She was propped up against the pillows, pale and red-eyed, weeping for the camera. “I’m pregnant with twins, and he’s still messing around with another woman. A woman who has her own fiancé but insists on calling my husband in the middle of the night…” The comments were a flood of sympathy. “I’m so sorry, sweetie!” “Girls like that are the absolute worst!” “I heard her family is like local royalty. They’re in business, and she owns some shady bar. What kind of decent woman runs a bar?” I laughed out loud at the absurdity. My mom saw it too, her hands trembling with rage. Liam wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Don’t let them get to you.” I smirked. “Oh, I’m not angry. I should be thanking them for all this free publicity.” My company was about to launch a new product line. Free press is free press. Half an hour later, I started a livestream from my own account. As soon as I went live, a flood of viewers poured in—half to curse me out, half to watch the drama unfold. I sat in front of the camera with a calm smile. A moment later, a request to co-stream popped up. It was Sophia. I accepted immediately. Her pale, tear-streaked face appeared on the screen. “You really have no shame, do you? Broadcasting after all this,” she sneered. I raised an eyebrow and held up my phone. “I’d invite everyone to take a look at the new video I just posted on my account.” In the next second, the comment feed exploded.

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My girlfriend, Judy, and I had a deal: if she went from 175 pounds down to 99, we’d get married. Today was the day she made good on her promise. At the gym, the numbers on the digital scale finally ticked over from 99.1 to 99.0. Her personal trainer, Barry, was even more ecstatic than she was. He let out a whoop and swept her up into his arms. “Judy! You did it! You’re amazing!” The way they looked at each other, the air between them thick with a syrupy sweetness, it was as if the rest of the world had melted away, leaving only the two of them. Our friends were cheering, whooping, and hollering. I was the only one who felt like a ghost at the party. Calmly, I unlocked my phone. With the image of them celebrating, his lips pressing against her forehead, as my backdrop, I deleted the wedding planning checklist. Then, I raised my phone and announced, my voice cutting through the noise like ice, “Judy, the wedding is off.” 1 The cheering died instantly. The air went still. The ecstatic joy on Judy’s face froze. She signaled for Barry to put her down, her eyes wide with disbelief as she stared at me. “Bob? What did you just say?” Beside her, a flicker of triumph crossed Barry’s handsome, chiseled face. He took Judy’s arm, his tone a perfect blend of innocence and concern. “Bob, man, don’t be mad. Judy… she’s just really, really happy.” He said her name, Judy, with an easy, practiced intimacy that made my stomach turn. I let out a short, bitter laugh, my gaze fixed on her. “Me, mad?” “Should I be happy? Should I be thrilled that my fiancée lost all this weight for another man?” The color drained from Judy’s face, as if I’d struck a nerve. She lunged at me. “Bob! What the hell is wrong with you?!” she shrieked, grabbing my arm. “Do you have any idea what I’ve been through for you these last three years? I went from one hundred and seventy-five pounds to ninety-nine! I lost seventy-six pounds! And now that I’ve done it, you’re calling it off? How dare you back out now!” “For me?” I didn’t resist, letting her grip dig into my skin. I raised my other hand and pointed to her phone. “Why don’t you show everyone your lock screen?” She froze. Her grip on my wrist loosened just a fraction. Our friends exchanged confused glances. Barry’s smile was gone, replaced by a tense line. Judy’s eyes darted away, unable to meet mine, before a fresh wave of fury washed over her face. “You went through my phone? Bob, have you no shame? You’re disgusting!” She spat the word disgusting like it was poison. Her best friend, Jessica—our maid of honor—immediately jumped to her defense. “Bob, that’s completely out of line! How can you even suspect Judy?” “Yeah, seriously, snooping through her phone is so low.” “Dude, have some confidence. Don’t be so insecure.” A wall of people formed around Judy, shielding her as if I were some kind of monster. They barraged me with accusations, condemning my mistrust, my jealousy. Not a single one of them asked me why. I watched the absurd scene unfold, watching them protect Judy like she was a precious queen. And suddenly, I just felt tired. So incredibly tired. I shook her hand off and turned to leave. Jessica’s voice, laced with a strange, triumphant tone, followed me. “Bob, if you walk out that door today, you’ll never get to see the ‘surprise’ Judy had waiting for you.” 2 I went back to the apartment Judy and I had shared for three years. I couldn’t care less about her so-called “surprise.” All I wanted was to pack my things and get out of this suffocating place. I pulled out my largest suitcase and began to pack with a numb efficiency. I opened my desk drawer to get my diploma and other important documents. Lying right on top was a large manila envelope. The words stamped on the front in gold foil made my blood run cold. “The Veridian Condominiums – Purchase Agreement” My heart plummeted. We had been planning to buy a place after the wedding, and The Veridian was our top choice. Could this be the “surprise” Jessica was talking about? Had she actually bought the condo behind my back? A complicated sliver of hope rose in my chest. With trembling hands, I opened the envelope. I flipped through the contract to the buyer information page. My eyes locked on the space next to “Buyer.” It wasn’t my name. It wasn’t Judy’s name, either. It was Barry’s. My mind went blank, a roar filling my ears. I forced my eyes to keep reading. Payment Method: Paid in full. Total Price: $283,000. Tucked into the last page of the contract was a bank receipt. The funds had been transferred from a joint account. Account Holders: Bob Sterling, Judy Hayes. The account balance, which had been over $285,000, was now just over two thousand. That money… that was every penny I had saved over seven years of working, of pinching pennies, of skipping lunches. It was the money for our wedding, for our home, for our future. And now, it was a condo in Barry’s name. The papers trembled in my hand. So, she hadn’t just cheated on me. She had stolen every last cent I had to buy a home for her lover. Click. The front door opened. Judy walked in. She saw the contract in my hand and didn’t even flinch. “You saw it.” My voice was a dry rasp. Every word was an effort. “Where is our wedding money?” Judy scoffed. “Your money? Bob, can you stop being so petty?” She crossed her arms, looking down at me. “It was our joint property. I used it for an investment. What’s the problem?” “An investment?” I repeated the word. “Buying a condo for your trainer is an ‘investment’?” “What else would it be?” she shot back. “Barry helped me lose the weight. I was grateful. I bought him a condo as a thank you. Is that so wrong? Besides, the location is great; it’s bound to go up in value. We can sell it later and the money will be ours. Can you stop being so small-minded for once?” I was too furious to speak. I just stared at her, my gaze burning. She grew impatient under my scrutiny and pulled another document from her purse, tossing it in my face. “Oh, right. You can sign this while you’re at it.” The paper fluttered to the floor. I looked down. A prenuptial agreement. 3 The next day, I dragged myself to work, exhausted. I hadn’t slept, my mind replaying the humiliating terms of the prenup. It stated, in no uncertain terms, that all of the groom’s pre-marital assets would become joint property upon marriage. However, all of the bride’s assets, including the “invested” condo in Barry’s name, would remain her sole property. If we divorced, I would walk away with nothing. Just then, the receptionist called my office. “Mr. Sterling, there’s a woman at the front desk claiming to be your mother-in-law. She says it’s urgent.” A vein throbbed in my temple. “Tell her to wait. I’ll be down in a bit,” I said. I hung up and sent Judy a text. Get your mom out of my office building. Now. Crickets. Half an hour later, my office door flew open. My assistant rushed in, frantic. “Mr. Sterling, you need to come downstairs! Your mother-in-law… she’s making a huge scene in the lobby!” My stomach dropped. I bolted out of my office. The ground floor lobby was already a circus. Judy’s mother, Brenda, was sitting on the floor, slapping her thighs and wailing at the top of her lungs. She was flanked by a group of relatives I’d never seen before. They were holding a white banner with huge, dripping red letters. “BOB STERLING, THE HEARTLESS CHEAT! USED MY DAUGHTER AND THREW HER AWAY!” Every eye in the lobby was on me. Pity, contempt, morbid curiosity. I could feel the blood rushing to my head. “Brenda! What are you doing here?!” I moved to pull her up. She slapped my hand away and cried even louder. “Don’t you call me that! I don’t have a snake like you for a son-in-law!” She pointed a finger at my nose and sobbed to the crowd of my colleagues. “Everyone, come and judge for yourselves! This man… he shamed my daughter for being overweight, forced her to go on a diet!” “For him, my baby girl starved herself for three years! She lost over seventy pounds, she nearly wasted away to nothing!” “And now that she’s beautiful and skinny, he wants to kick her to the curb and find some younger girl! He used her and threw her away! He’s a monster!” She twisted the truth, fabricating a narrative that painted me as the ultimate villain. Whispers rippled through the crowd. “Wow, I never would have guessed he was that kind of person.” “I know, right? I saw his girlfriend once. She was bigger, but she looks amazing now.” “Ugh, men. What do you expect?” My face was pale with fury, but I was speechless. Two security guards tried to intervene, but the relatives swarmed them. “They’re hitting us! The company is assaulting us!” “Big corporation bullying ordinary people!” The scene devolved into chaos. It ended, predictably, with me being summoned to the CEO’s office. “Bob,” the CEO said, his face grim. “This company has an image to maintain. I don’t care what you do in your private life, but this has become a serious problem for our reputation.” “I’m placing you on temporary leave. Don’t come back until you’ve cleaned up this mess.” I walked out of his office feeling like my world had collapsed. I returned home in a daze. The moment I opened the door, I froze. The apartment was destroyed. My collection of rare, first-edition books was torn to shreds, pages scattered like confetti. My prized collectible models were smashed to pieces. My favorite guitar, the one I’d had since college, had its strings snapped, a gaping hole punched through its body. And sitting on the sofa, with his feet kicked up on the coffee table, was Barry. He was casually toying with a shard of one of my broken models. Judy stood beside him, a golf club resting in her hand. 4 “Just cleaning out some trash,” Judy said when she saw me, not a hint of remorse on her face. Her chin was tilted in defiance, her tone dripping with contempt. “This junk should have been thrown out years ago.” Barry stood up and walked over to me. “Mr. Sterling, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Judy did this for your own good. This stuff is beneath the man you’re going to be.” I looked at him, then at Judy standing behind him. “Get. Out.” I squeezed the words through my teeth. “What did you say?” Barry’s smile vanished, his eyes turning cold. “I said, both of you, get out of my apartment.” “Your apartment?” Judy laughed, a loud, theatrical sound. “Bob, are you still dreaming? I rent this place. It has nothing to do with you.” She pulled out her phone and showed me a digital rental agreement. “Look closely. The lessee is Judy Hayes. You’re just a guest who’s overstayed his welcome. Now, I’m telling you to get out. Understand?” I stared at the contract. I remembered now. Three years ago, we’d rented this place because it was closer to her job. I thought it didn’t matter who signed the lease. I never imagined she would use it as a weapon against me. “Fine,” I nodded. “I’ll leave.” “Wait,” Barry called out. He pulled a small black object from his pocket and dangled it in front of me. It was a pinhole camera. “Mr. Sterling, you’re a smart man,” he said slowly. “Judy has a soft heart; she doesn’t want to make things ugly. Just give us the copy of that purchase agreement, post a statement online saying you two broke up amicably for personal reasons, and we can all move on.” I said nothing. I just looked at him. Judy stepped forward, her voice impatient. “Bob, don’t make this harder than it has to be. I’m holding all the cards here.” She opened her phone. On the screen was a live feed of my parents’ living room. My mother was busy in the kitchen; my father was on the sofa, watching TV. “You…” Judy’s smile was triumphant. “Your parents are getting older. Their memories aren’t what they used to be. What if they forgot to turn off the gas one day? Or what if one of them slipped in the shower…” She let the threat hang in the air. I stared at her, my body trembling with a rage so profound it felt like it would tear me apart. Just then, my phone rang. My mother’s name flashed on the screen. I answered, my hand shaking so badly I could barely hold the phone. “Mom…” Her voice on the other end was panicked, choked with tears. “Bob! Come home! Quick!” “It’s your father… he… he fell down the stairs!”

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After the new transfer student arrived, mysterious injuries started appearing on my body. First, ligature marks on my neck. Then, bruises like fingerprints on my chest. It all came to a head during the National Scholar Championship when a wave of nausea and pain became unbearable. Just before I fainted, a stream of text floated before my eyes: [Good thing our girl is smart, seducing the male lead on purpose so the villainess screws up the competition.] [Serves that evil side character right for chasing after the male lead. This is her karma. When he gets rough and loses control, she’ll pass out and miss the whole thing. lol.] I dragged a shard of glass across my finger. The next day, the transfer student showed up with a bandage on her finger, staring at me with pure venom in her eyes. 1 Suppressed by a tidal wave of agony, I gritted my teeth and forced myself to work on the final essay question. My handwriting was a jagged scrawl. The pain in my abdomen was a relentless storm, each wave threatening to break me. The proctor noticed my distress and offered a quiet word of concern. I just shook my head, lacking the strength to even speak. I had to focus, to push through and finish the question. Another brutal cramp seized me, and I nearly dropped my pen. [Hehe, the male lead is really going for it now. The villainess still thinks she can finish the test? She’s about to pass out.] [Thank god this evil side character can absorb the damage. Otherwise, how could our girl handle this level of… intensity. ;)] [That’s why he likes our girl so much. They’re perfectly compatible. Other girls can’t handle him, but our girl can take it from start to finish.] [If it’s this wild now, imagine the ‘study session’ they’ll have before the final exams! It’s gonna be epic!] [Here it comes, here it comes—] The pen slipped from my convulsing fingers, leaving a long, black gash across the paper. A sharp cry escaped my throat before my mind went completely blank. I fainted. When I opened my eyes again, I finally understood the bizarre, floating comments. 2 The world I had lived in for eighteen years was nothing more than a trashy, erotic webnovel. The female lead they were talking about was the transfer student, Seraphina Jones. Blessed with a unique tolerance for pain, she was perfectly “compatible” with the oversized male lead, Caleb Thorne. The plot had already arranged for them to be intimately involved. And I was the villainous side character, created by the author for one purpose: to act as a pain sponge for the female lead, a tool to heighten their twisted pleasure. Suddenly, all the mysterious injuries made sense. The ligature marks on my neck last week? I’d dismissed them as my pajama strings getting tangled in my sleep. The whip-like marks on my back the other day? I’d convinced myself I’d scraped against the carved headboard. And the tearing pain in my lower body yesterday… I had been terrified I’d contracted some horrible disease. It was only now, with the explosive agony during the competition and the floating comments, that the horrifying truth dawned on me. I looked at the fresh bruises on my wrist and the red marks on my chest—they looked exactly like fingerprints, left by someone’s forceful grip. The realization of where these marks came from sent a wave of nausea through me. God, it was disgusting. I stumbled to the trash can and threw up until my stomach was empty. According to the comments, Sera and Caleb were going to ramp things up before the final college entrance exams, causing me so much pain that I’d collapse and miss them entirely. Sera would get into a top university, starting a new chapter with Caleb. My ending? I would believe I had some strange, incurable illness, and unable to bear the gossip and shame, I would commit suicide, conveniently no longer “bothering” the male lead. Perfect. Just perfect. Except… who ever said I liked the male lead? My gaze fell on the fruit knife on my nightstand. I ran my thumb along the blade. The moment the steel broke my skin, a single bead of blood, warm and crimson, rolled onto the sheet. Tomorrow, I would have my answer. 3 The next day, I was in my seat long before the first bell. Sera and Caleb strolled in late. As her almond-shaped eyes scanned the room, I caught it: a small bandage on her finger. The cut was in the exact same spot as mine. The moment Sera walked in, she launched into a tirade. “Elara, what is wrong with you? Didn’t I tell you to take care of yourself? I told you not to get hurt!” Her shouting immediately drew the attention of the entire class. And my face, which had gone cold as ice. 4 Sera was always like this. She’d boss me around and yell at me over the smallest things, but she always claimed it was because she cared, because it pained her to see me hurt. If I accidentally bumped into a desk corner, she’d curse me out for not watching where I was going, then turn around and stick a protective foam strip on it. When I’d get upset by her attitude, she’d cling to my arm and whine, “Elara, I’m just worried about you. You know I have the best intentions, right?” Because of my family situation, I’d never had many friends. Like an idiot, I saw our toxic friendship as a form of salvation. I thought her harsh words were just her way of showing she cared. It wasn’t until I saw those floating comments that I understood. Her so-called sisterly devotion was just a way to manage her personal pain sponge. To say I wasn’t furious would be a lie. But I was also morbidly curious. If my injuries appeared on her, how much of the pain did she actually feel? “Sera, you really do care about me, don’t you?” I said, drawing out the last word. She didn’t catch the sarcasm in my tone. Her eyelashes fluttered, a flicker of smug superiority in her eyes. “Of course I do. You were the first person who was nice to me when I transferred here.” I lowered my gaze, fiddling with the pen in my hand. When she was the new girl and everyone was ignoring her, I had been the one to offer her the seat next to me, to help her fit in. I was really starting to regret being so damn helpful. 5 During the morning assembly, that familiar, unbearable pain flared up again. I scanned the crowd but couldn’t find Caleb or Sera anywhere. The floating comments provided a live broadcast: [The male lead is so impatient! He can’t even wait until after morning assembly!] [Well, our girl is like a juicy peach. One taste and he’s hooked. More scenes like this, please! I’m here for it!] [Hahaha, the villainess is supposed to give a speech later. She’s going to scream in front of the whole school and make a total fool of herself—] [Isn’t that a little too harsh? The side character hasn’t really done anything bad yet.] [What do you know? The author created her specifically to take the pain so our girl doesn’t have to suffer. It’s her destiny. Besides, it’s her own fault for liking the male lead.] My heart pounded. Were these people insane? The thought that Sera was causing this, that this agony was a byproduct of her pleasure, made me want to strangle her. I didn’t care if this was a novel. I was a real person. A person with flesh and blood, who could laugh and cry, who had parents who loved her. I was not their plaything. I was not a tool. I would break the chains this world had put on me. My eyes fixed on the steps of the stage. It was about a four-foot drop. Not high enough to kill someone. In a move that stunned the entire school, I took a running leap— The comments went wild: [What the hell is this evil side character doing?!] [Is she crazy?!? Because of her jump, our girl just screamed and nearly snapped the male lead’s dick off!] [See? This is why she’s the villainess. Just causing trouble for attention. She’s going to get our girl killed!] [Uh oh, the male lead does not look happy. Do you think it’s actually broken—] 6 I landed hard. A sharp pain shot through my ankle. Probably a sprain. Everyone assumed I was having a breakdown after failing the competition. Even the principal standing beside me was dumbstruck, which conveniently meant I didn’t have to explain myself. The comments, however, were tearing me to shreds: [This side character is such a bitch. She almost turned the male lead into a eunuch!] [This is probably going to give him performance anxiety. Does this mean no more spicy scenes for a while?] [Our poor girl’s ankle is all swollen now. My heart breaks for her—] 7 The assembly ended early because of my dramatic exit. I limped back to the classroom, refusing all suggestions to go to the nurse’s office. I had more important things to do. A moment later, Sera and Caleb shuffled in through the back door. Sera was limping, her eyes red and puffy. Seeing Caleb looking perfectly fine, I felt a twinge of disappointment. So it wasn’t really broken? Sera’s eyes, like a viper’s, locked onto me. Her ankle was only slightly red and swollen. The comments had made it sound so dramatic, but it was nothing compared to my own ballooning ankle. So that was it. Sera only bore half of the damage I took, maybe even less. Of course. The author’s precious daughter had to have her cheat codes. Sera stormed towards me, her face a mask of fury. 8 “Elara, are you out of your mind? What is this new brand of crazy? Your body is a gift from your parents! Don’t you ever think about how they would feel when you hurt yourself like this?” Listening to her self-righteous rant, you’d think she was my mother. And bizarrely, everyone else seemed to fall for it, whispering about how much Sera cared for me. “What’s it to you?” I retorted. “Does your family live in the ocean? Because you’re trying to manage the entire sea.” Now that I knew the truth, I couldn’t pretend for a second longer. Sera froze, shocked by my tone. “What did you just say?” she stammered, clutching her chest as if I’d wounded her. “I’m just trying to show I care, and you think I’m being nosy?” As she spoke, her eyes welled up with tears. [Ugh, this side character needs to die. She’s making our poor girl so upset.] [She’s such a bitch. Someone shows her kindness and she spits on it.] [Don’t worry, the male lead will get revenge for our girl!] Her acting was flawless. She deserved an Oscar. The other students started chiming in. “Elara, Sera is just worried about you.” “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you!” “If you ask me, Elara is just an ungrateful brat.” Buoyed by the support, Sera’s expression softened into a familiar, pitiful look. My eyes shifted to Caleb, standing behind her. So he was going to avenge her, was he? I couldn’t wait. Meeting Sera’s gaze again, I lifted my chin defiantly. “Who needs your fake concern? Don’t think I don’t know what you were up to. You were with Caleb during the assembly, weren’t you?” I needed a reason to burn this bridge anyway. Weren’t the comments always saying I was jealous over Caleb? I put on a heartbroken expression. “Caleb, are you going to deny it?” 9 They both looked guilty and didn’t answer right away. For everyone else, that was an answer in itself. Someone spoke up. “Wait, did Sera only become friends with Elara to get close to Caleb?” The tide of opinion suddenly turned in my favor. Caleb didn’t confirm or deny it, which just made me lose whatever respect I had for him. Everyone had always assumed Caleb and I, childhood friends, would get together after our exams. In reality, I knew he was a player and had zero interest in him. I only let the rumors slide because they kept other annoying suitors away. Whispers broke out. People started calling Sera a backstabber, a manipulative snake. She panicked. “That’s not it, Elara, don’t misunderstand—” She reached for me. I dodged her hand, and in a move that seemed both accidental and intentional, she stumbled and slammed her body into the corner of a desk with a loud cry. But, goddammit, I was the one who felt the pain! An explosion of agony in my abdomen. I instinctively clutched my stomach, beads of sweat popping on my forehead. All my years of refined education couldn’t stop me from wanting to scream bitch! She had done that on purpose. It was revenge. A triumphant, provocative glint flashed in her eyes before she burst into dramatic, crocodile tears. “Elara, why did you push me? I was just trying to help…” Caleb’s face turned black. The comments were frantic: [Our girl is so clever! Create a diversion so no one notices she and the male lead were stumbling out of the bathroom together.] [She went through all this humiliation for the male lead. He must be so moved.] [He would never make her keep their relationship a secret if he wasn’t worried about the evil side character causing trouble. She’s the treasure of his heart.] 10 The bathroom? My vision darkened for a second. Sera had just tried to touch my hand. I wondered if she’d even washed them. In a flash, Caleb had her in his arms, cradling her protectively. He turned to me, his voice dripping with condemnation. “Elara, you are a heartless snake. Sera was only trying to help you, and you physically assaulted her?” The pain in my stomach was so intense I couldn’t speak. To everyone else, my silence looked like a confession of guilt. Their gazes turned from sympathy to contempt. The next moment, Caleb raised his arm, his hand flying towards my face. But just before it connected, Sera pushed me aside, taking the full force of the slap herself. My own cheek burned with a phantom sting. I was officially seeing red. My eyes, locked on Sera, were practically shooting flames. “Sera, are you insane!” She held her reddening cheek and looked at Caleb with noble defiance. “She’s just angry with me, Caleb. I can’t let you hurt my best friend!” Her performance moved the entire class. “Wow, even after Elara treated her like that, Sera is still protecting her. That’s so touching.” Then, Sera turned her head slightly, her voice a venomous whisper only I could hear. “You know, don’t you, Elara? But what can you do? You were born to be my tool.” The last thread of my sanity snapped. I scrambled to my feet and began slapping myself across the face, hard. “You’re right, you’re right, it’s all my fault!” I wailed. “I never should have tried to compete with you for Caleb, even if we did grow up together!” Smack! Smack! Smack! I put all my strength into each blow. My face instantly swelled and turned a blotchy red. I’m just a tool, right? Fine. I’ll claw my way out of this with my bare hands, and I’ll drag the author’s precious daughter down with me. A wildness entered my eyes that clearly terrified Sera. “Stop! Stop hitting yourself!” she shrieked. “I said stop!” No one else noticed, but Sera’s own cheeks were beginning to swell. The other students were just staring, completely bewildered. “Uh, Elara, you don’t have to do this… I mean, Sera isn’t entirely innocent either…” The comments were equally stunned: [Okay, what is happening? Why is the side character hitting herself?] [I think she figured out the pain-sharing thing. But isn’t this like… cutting off your nose to spite your face?] [LMAO, this side character has a certain unhinged energy I kind of respect.] [This is pathetic.]

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The moment a shared account notification for a high-end baby stroller popped up on my phone, I quit my seven-figure job without a second thought. I packed my bags, flew home from London, and prepared to start a family with the husband I hadn’t lived with for ten years. I knew this was another one of his hints. For the past decade, I’d always used my demanding career as an excuse, telling him I wasn’t ready for children. But deep down, the guilt was eating me alive. Guilt for leaving him alone in our New York brownstone while I chased a paycheck overseas. Guilt for prioritizing my ambition over the family we were supposed to build. But when I stood at our front door, gifts in hand, ready to give him the surprise of his life, I wasn’t met with the tearful, joyful embrace I’d imagined. Instead, I was greeted by a young boy and a woman with a swollen, pregnant belly. 1 The boy was laughing, running full tilt toward the woman, and was about to collide with her when my husband, George, rushed out from inside. He threw his arms out, stopping the reckless child just in time. “Leo, you’re about to be a big brother! You can’t be so careless. What if you’d hurt your mommy and the baby?” The boy made a funny face, grinning. “But I want a little sister.” George ruffled the boy’s hair, the adoration in his eyes practically overflowing. His parents followed him out, pulling the boy aside to scold him gently. “You can’t do that anymore. You could have really hurt her.” I watched this happy, harmonious family scene, and the cold, hard truth finally dawned on me. They all knew. They were all in on this perfect little life, and I was the only one who had been left in the dark. But… every time I came home, he was as passionate as a newlywed. He would hold me until dawn, his touch desperate and loving. Because of that, even after eight years without a child, I never doubted him. I never once questioned his love for me. Before I boarded the plane, I’d texted him that I had a surprise, and he’d replied, “Can’t wait.” It had only been a few hours. How had everything changed so completely? I looked at George. His eyes scanned my face, a flicker of panic in their depths, before finally landing on the gift box I was still clutching. His voice was raspy, a barely audible whisper. “What are you doing back?” When he saw my gaze fixed on the pregnant woman beside him, he quickly dropped the hand that had been resting on her waist. Suddenly, a thousand ignored details from the past eight years exploded in my mind. The way he’d always cut our video calls short, blaming a “bad signal.” The gifts I’d sent home, always returned with the excuse that the “storage is full.” The way he’d talked me out of taking a vacation to come home last month, claiming he was “too swamped at work.” “A surprise,” I said, the words catching in my throat, dry and rough like sandpaper. I forced a smile. “Weren’t you excited?” The woman beside him took half a step forward, subtly positioning herself in front of him, as if to protect him. “Excuse me, do we know you?” I ignored her, my eyes still glued to George’s face. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?” George snapped out of his trance, forcing a weak smile. “This is Amber. The children’s mother.” Then he pointed at me, and his voice faltered. I didn’t give him a chance to lie. I held out my hand. “I’m Chloe. George’s wife.” Amber didn’t move. My outstretched hand hung awkwardly in the air. The color drained from George’s face. He tugged on Amber’s sleeve. “Mom, Dad, why don’t you take Leo home for now?” Amber gave me a look loaded with meaning as George’s parents quickly ushered the boy away, half-coaxing, half-dragging him out the door. The moment they were gone, George’s expression transformed. His eyes were red, his face a mask of wounded betrayal. “Why did you come back like this? Are you checking up on me?” I stood my ground, my voice steady despite the tremor in my soul. “I quit my job.” George’s head shot up. “What?” I knew what he was thinking. My salary in London was more than enough to support his entire family in lavish comfort. But I had walked away from it all. Years of building my career overseas, gone. I’d be starting from scratch back home. He had grown accustomed to the easy, luxurious life my money provided. The thought of falling from that paradise must have been terrifying. “You always said I didn’t spend enough time with you,” I said, my voice flat. “So I quit. I gave up everything in London so we could finally be together and build a real life.” “I wanted to tell you in person, so I came straight from the airport with your gifts.” George’s eyes finally seemed to register the pile of luggage and shopping bags at my feet. I had rushed here, not even stopping for a sip of water, my clothes damp with sweat from the journey. He called for the housekeeper, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. “Please help take these bags inside and show… Miss Chloe to the guest room.” Then he turned back to me. “I have to take Amber to her check-up. Just tell the housekeeper what you want for dinner.” And with that, he led Amber away, as if this whole devastating scene had never happened. As if he owed me, his actual wife, no explanation at all. I watched them go, a painful lump forming in my throat. This was my brownstone. He was my husband. Those were my in-laws. But now, in my own home, I was being shown to the guest room. I was an intruder. A stranger who had forced her way into their perfect life. I couldn’t help but wonder… if our child had survived all those years ago, would we have had a life this happy? Would the three of us have been a family, just like them? 2 Years ago, getting married to George had been a dream. From meeting his parents to the engagement party, they had always looked at me with such approval, bragging to everyone about how smart and capable their son’s new wife was. I remember the first time I visited their home, George’s mother held my hands and gushed, “Chloe, you’re like the daughter we never had. We’ll treasure you.” Back then, George was always by my side. He said he loved peace and quiet, so I took all my savings and bought this brownstone, a multi-million-dollar property in the heart of the city. He was ecstatic, promising to decorate it exactly the way I wanted. I didn’t have strong opinions, so I let him take the lead. He threw himself into the project, choosing deep blue curtains because they were my favorite, insisting on a durable grey sofa, and even picking the wedding photo for the wall where he said I had the goofiest, happiest smile. “This is our home now,” he’d said, his hand resting on the picture frame, his eyes shining. “As soon as you’re settled in London, I’ll come join you.” But when I finally secured my permanent contract, he changed his tune. “My parents are getting older, Chloe. There’ll be no one to look after them if I leave.” “Besides, I just got promoted to department head. It would be a waste to quit now. Just wait a little longer. I’ll come as soon as I finish this project.” And I believed him. I thought that distance was no match for love, that as long as our hearts were connected, we could overcome anything. I worked myself to the bone, sending most of my salary home to him. For his parents, for him, for our future. He’d always text back, “It’s more than enough,” but then a package would arrive with my favorite cured sausages from a local deli, with a note saying, “Don’t neglect yourself over there.” Thinking back, I realize now he probably didn’t make those sausages himself. Just like the “bad signal” on our video calls was probably to hide the sound of a crying baby. The returned gifts weren’t because “storage was full,” but because he couldn’t risk another woman seeing them. And every time he’d texted, “I miss you,” the urgency in his tone wasn’t born from longing, but from the need to hide a lie. I stood in the living room of my own home, staring at the family portrait hanging on the wall. George was leaning toward Amber, and Leo sat between them. All three of them were smiling, a perfect, happy family. The picture was in a frame I’d sent him for his birthday last year. At the time, he’d told me it was “too expensive, too precious to use.” It wasn’t that he didn’t want to use it. He just didn’t want my gift displayed in their home. Footsteps echoed on the stairs. George’s mother came down, holding a platter of fruit and forcing a smile. “Chloe, have some fruit. These are all your old favorites.” I didn’t move. I looked her straight in the eye. “Leo… is he George’s son?” It wasn’t that I couldn’t guess the obvious answer. Perhaps I was just too weak, too unwilling to believe that every beautiful memory I held dear was nothing more than a carefully constructed lie, a performance put on by his entire family. Her hand trembled, and a few grapes rolled onto the floor. She bent down to pick them up, her voice muffled. “The children… they’re very well-behaved…” I closed my eyes, a sharp pain seizing my heart. “He’s seven years old.” “That means he was born the year after I left for London.” She froze, and when she looked up at me, the panic in her eyes was impossible to hide. “Chloe, let me explain…” “Explain what?” I laughed, a tight, humorless sound. “Explain how your whole family lied to me for eight years, watching me send my hard-earned money home like a fool to raise another woman’s husband and children? Or explain who he was thinking of every time I came home and he held me in his arms and told me he loved me?” George’s father came out of his study and pulled his wife behind him, his face stern. “Chloe, there’s no point in saying all this now. It’s clear George can’t continue this marriage with you. You two… should get a divorce.” “A divorce?” I repeated the word, my mind flashing back to our wedding day eight years ago. His father had stood before me then, too, but with a smile, saying, “My son will take good care of you.” Eight years. How could a heart change so quickly? “Amber was George’s high school classmate,” his father said, sighing with a strange sort of sympathy. “After you went abroad, George was very lonely, and he went through a lot. Amber was the one who took care of him. They… they couldn’t help it.” Couldn’t help it? And what about me? The hardships I endured, the sleepless nights I worked, the endless days I spent yearning to come home—what did all of that count for? I grabbed a fruit knife from the table. I didn’t want to hurt anyone; I just needed something solid to hold onto. The cold steel did little to quell the fire raging inside me. Just then, the sound of a car engine came from the driveway. George and Amber were back. 3 They walked into the living room and saw the knife in my hand. Amber’s face went white. “Chloe, what are you doing?” George immediately stepped in front of her, his brow furrowed. “We can talk this out calmly. Don’t scare Amber.” “Scare her?” I looked at her swollen belly, and the scene before me felt like a surreal nightmare. “Don’t you think I’m the one who should be scared?” “George, tell me,” I said, my voice shaking. “In these past eight years, was there ever a single moment you felt even a flicker of guilt?” He bit his lip, and a tear rolled down his cheek. “I’m sorry…” “Sorry? That’s it?” I slammed the knife down on the coffee table with a deafening clatter. “I quit my job, I threw away my future, all to come back and build a home with you! But you’ve already been building a home with someone else for eight years! George, what do you take me for?” Leo came running down the stairs, saw the knife, and burst into tears, throwing himself into his father’s arms and crying, “Daddy!” George held the boy, his back to me, patting his back gently, his own shoulders trembling. Amber walked over and held out a document. “As they say, the one who isn’t loved is the third wheel. This is a divorce agreement, Chloe. Let’s just end this amicably.” I didn’t look at the papers. I just stared at George’s back. He never turned around. So all those passionate nights that felt like a second honeymoon were just an act. That text message, “Can’t wait,” was probably meant for Amber and sent to me by mistake. I had been a clown, performing in his twisted play for eight years, only to find out I’d been written out of the script long ago. The gift box in my hand had fallen to the floor at some point. A handcrafted bracelet I’d found at a remote mountain monastery—a charm for good fortune—had spilled out, its beads glinting coldly in the afternoon light. I heard the sound of paper ripping, followed by a sharp gasp that sounded like a slap. Then came George’s anguished cry. “Who said anything about a divorce?! When did it become your place to make decisions in this house?!” He screamed my name, his voice choked with sobs. I turned in a daze and walked toward the door, leaving the wreckage of their lives behind me. Some debts can’t be paid with a simple “I’m sorry.” And some homes, once shattered, can never be put back together again. 4 I went to my mother’s house. I’d been away for so long, and the rare times I came back, I spent them with George. My parents were understanding, always telling me to spend my limited time with my husband. Looking at the new silver strands in their hair, I was struck by the sudden realization of how neglectful I’d been. I had poured all my money, my love, and my energy into George and my career, barely sparing a thought for my own parents. I tried to compose myself, to act like nothing was wrong. But my mother saw through it instantly. “Did you and George have a fight? You’ve been away for so long, you shouldn’t be fighting the moment you get back.” She sighed. “Men have their pride. Don’t be too hard on him. He’s been waiting for you all these years; it hasn’t been easy for him either.” My father came out of the kitchen, taking off his apron. “Alright, that’s enough. Our daughter just got home. Let’s have a nice meal, let her get some rest. Whatever it is, it can wait.” “She’s tired and hungry. Don’t badger her.” Hearing my parents’ gentle words, I could no longer hold back the dam of emotions. As I served myself more rice, tears began to fall, one after another, splashing onto the table. The rest of the meal was silent. My parents didn’t ask any more questions; they just kept putting more food on my plate. That night, lying in my childhood bed, I could hear them talking in the next room through the thin walls. “Tomorrow, go buy some of her favorite snacks. Good food always makes people feel better.” “I’ll go talk to George. All couples fight. It’s nothing serious.” I pulled the covers over my head and cried silently. If George had just told me he didn’t love me anymore, I would have let him go. I’m not the kind of person to cling. But he said nothing. He and his parents just built another family, in my house, right under my nose. I tossed and turned, finally drifting off to sleep at some unknown hour. The next morning, I was woken by the sound of cheerful laughter from the living room. I sat up, groggy, and thought I heard George’s voice. Without even stopping to change, I threw open my bedroom door. There, sitting in my parents’ living room, were George, Amber, and their son. How dare he. How dare he bring his mistress and his illegitimate child here, parading them in front of my parents. My chest tightened, and I struggled to breathe. Before I could speak, George jumped in, explaining smoothly, “You’re awake! We were just saying, Amber’s due any day now. If we hurry up and have one of our own, our kids could grow up together. It’d be perfect, since we all know each other so well.” He had the audacity to wink at me. I opened my mouth, but no words came out. What could I say? Could I deny it all? Could I tell my parents that Leo wasn’t just Amber’s son, but my husband’s son, too? Could I tell them George had been cheating on me since our second year of marriage? Could I… I had to hand it to him. George knew me perfectly. He had me completely trapped. I looked around the room. Everyone was smiling, laughing, a perfect picture of familial bliss. Only I was on the outside, separated from them by an invisible wall. The happiness was theirs. I had nothing. Amber was smiling at my parents. “Chloe has always been so busy with work, traveling everywhere. George and I have already agreed, when Chloe has her baby, I’ll be there to help her out every step of the way. You two have nothing to worry about.” I looked at the veiled triumph in her eyes and suddenly felt exhausted. If the rest of my life was going to be this pathetic act, I’d rather end it now. I took a deep breath. “I don’t think our families will be joined like that. After all, the two children are…” Just as the words were about to leave my lips, George shot up from the sofa and grabbed my arm, yanking me toward the door. “Chloe, didn’t you say you were taking Amber to her check-up? We’re going to be late. Mom, Dad, we’ll be back soon. You guys chat.”

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My boyfriend and I both thought the other was a secret trust fund kid playing poor. On the surface, we were the hardworking couple, juggling part-time jobs and classes. Secretly, we were both eyeing the other’s imagined family fortune. It wasn’t until a real heir and heiress from our university made their relationship official that the truth came crashing down. We were both just… actually poor. So, we decided to break up on the spot and divide our business ventures. He took the delivery and personal shopping gigs. I got the class-sitting and homework-writing clients. As for the eight condoms left in the box? We’d use them all in one go. From then on, we would hustle on our own. No more strings attached. 1 The day the heirs to the Kane and Jiang family fortunes announced they were dating, they sent out cash gifts in every group chat at school. Thanks to the lightning-fast fingers I’d developed from buying concert tickets for people, I managed to snag a hundred bucks. “Wow, lucky day,” I boasted to my boyfriend, Fred. “That’s a whole week’s worth of groceries.” Then, something clicked. “Fred… wait. You’re not from that Kane family, are you?” The hand bringing a piece of meat to my plate faltered. His expression shifted. “And you, Melinda… you’re not a Jiang heiress?” I shook my head. His chopsticks retreated. “So… that electric scooter you call a ‘Maserati’… it’s actually just a scooter?” I nodded. “Yeah, but don’t you think it’s cute and classy? It has a certain Maserati vibe, you know?” Then a thought hit me. “And that Porsche key of yours… it’s not really a key, is it?” He hesitated. “It’s a lighter.” Wrong. We were both so, so wrong. We stared at each other, the horrifying realization dawning. We’d both mistaken the other for a secret millionaire playing at being a normie. All those quirky, eccentric moments weren’t clever attempts to hide their wealth—they were just genuinely weird. To break the awkward silence, I shoveled a huge mouthful of noodles into my mouth, only to get a chili flake lodged in my throat. “Cough… cough…” My eyes watered as I choked. A well-meaning waitress rushed over with a soda. “The special combo doesn’t include drinks. That’ll be two dollars.” I waved her away frantically. “No, thanks.” Fred frowned. “Just drink it. It’s on me.” “No, your money is still money.” I ended up chugging an entire pitcher of free tap water to dislodge the errant spice. The waitress watched the whole ordeal, her face a mask of pity. Suddenly, I felt a wave of indignation wash over me. 2 “Fred, it’s my birthday today,” I said, my voice trembling slightly. “And you brought me to a restaurant where we have to share a discount combo meal with another couple.” Not only did it not include the cheese-baked ribs featured on their poster, but we had to split every dish that came to the table. The plate of lychee shrimp balls had four pieces; we only got two. We had to share one bowl of noodles, which meant I was stuck using one of those tiny, pathetic “tasting bowls” that everyone hates. Fred reached out, his long fingers dabbing at my chin with a handkerchief he always carried. “Melinda, for my birthday, you bought me a ‘buy one, get one free’ bubble tea.” His usual compliant demeanor was gone. He was starting to keep score. Of course. He wasn’t in love with me; he was in love with the idea of the Jiang family fortune. Fine. Two could play at that game. I held up both hands, all ten fingers spread. “You have so many ‘babes’ in your contact list, I can’t even count them on two hands.” Fred’s jaw dropped. “You know perfectly well those are the actual babies I look after at my daycare job.” I covered my ears. La la la, I can’t hear you. He was getting flustered, and started listing my own transgressions. “Melinda, you made me eat cilantro-flavored ramen for ten straight days just so you could get a free ramen bowl.” “I hate cilantro.” I felt a twinge of guilt, but only a tiny one. “So? You could have just not used the seasoning packet!” The tips of his eyes were red. “Last year, you bought me a down jacket. As soon as it got cold, you’d make me wear it, and then when you got cold, you’d make me take it off and give it to you. The problem is, you’d go out in the middle of winter in just a sweater, and the second we left a building, you’d start shivering! So I was the one left freezing my ass off!” It was because I could only afford one jacket, and I’d bought it for him without a second thought. That reminded me of something. “Every time we got lemonade, you’d take these huge gulps and swallow all the seeds so I wouldn’t have to,” I shot back. “You always let me lick the yogurt lids. You’d even use the empty chip bags to scoop up your rice!” After airing all our grievances, a single, stark realization hit me. This was all poverty’s fault. When we thought the other was faking it, these were cute quirks. Endearing eccentricities. But if we were both genuinely broke? It was just sad. His unconditional devotion was predicated on the condition that it cost him nothing. He could promise me the world, but after graduation, we wouldn’t even have a place to live. “Let’s break up,” I blurted out. Fred froze. “You’re breaking up with me because I don’t have money?” No, it’s because neither of us has money. But I didn’t explain. I just repeated, “Let’s break up.” Right then and there, we divided up our side hustles. He took the delivery and personal shopping gigs. I took the class-sitting and homework-writing jobs. The campus market was huge, so we even drew up a “Post-Breakup Amicable Cooperation Agreement,” promising not to sabotage each other’s businesses and to share any new money-making opportunities. As for our shared streaming subscriptions, we’d alternate days until the end of the month. Same with the meal card we’d loaded together. 3 The result was that for two weeks after we broke up, we were still eating together in the cafeteria. My roommate was baffled. “You guys are having the most peaceful breakup I’ve ever seen.” “You just don’t understand the struggles of the truly broke,” I told her. On the last day of the month, we finally emptied the meal card. Then I remembered something. We hadn’t used up that box of condoms I’d bought. Fred’s nose and the tips of his ears turned bright red. “Well,” he stammered, “we should probably… use them all.” I glanced at the box. There were eight left. My face flushed. “We can’t…” For the first time since the breakup, Fred took charge. He grabbed my hand. “I can.” He was so young and naive. The three-hour motel room rental was nowhere near enough time. We ended up having to book it for the whole night, costing us an extra thirty bucks. The more I thought about it, the more I fumed. It was such a waste. I refused to let him sleep, determined to get our money’s worth. It wasn’t until I nearly collapsed from leg cramps during gym class that I regretted my frugality. I shouldn’t have been so stubborn about using all eight at once. My back and legs ached for three days, and I could barely run. Across the field, I met Fred’s dark, intense gaze. An image from that night flashed in my mind: him leaning over me, his hand gripping my ankle, his eyes filled with a raw, possessive hunger. His chiseled abs, his sharp collarbones, his searing breath… It was just too hot out. I shook my head, trying to banish the thought. There was no time to reminisce about my ex. It was time to make some money. With a dad who couldn’t work, a frail mother, and a grandmother with osteoporosis, I was their only hope. I couldn’t afford any more distractions. The weight of it all would crush me. 4 After the breakup, I poured all my non-academic energy into making money. Sitting in on classes and writing papers was just the beginning. I started organizing group buys for fruit, offering my services as a gaming companion, even doing laundry for other students… College kids were so lazy. The opportunities were endless. There was so much money to be made, but not enough hours in the day. A senior in my club saw how hard I was hustling and took pity on me. “You’re just making pocket change, you know.” She looked me up and down, then nodded. “You’ve got the look. Let me help you land something big.” I clutched my chest. “I’m not selling my body.” She laughed. “You wish! Your club application said you have ‘no special talents’.” Ouch. That’s how I found out she was a semi-famous cosplayer. She booked me for a commercial event, taught me how to do the makeup, and helped me with the costume. Luckily, I was familiar with the character, a support hero named Seraphina, so I didn’t have to do much research. At the event, I was stiffly holding poses for photos when I turned and saw him. Fred. He was wearing the matching male version of my costume, cosplaying my character’s in-game partner. The fans went wild. They kept pushing us together for couple photos. Fred and I could only grit our teeth and pose, our eyes filled not with love, but with a fierce determination to outshine the other. A fan held up a sign: “SERAPHINA & ORION FOREVER.” It was my first time cosplaying, and I wasn’t prepared for this level of intensity. Fred blushed and leaned in closer. I shoved him away. “Nice try, but you’re not stealing my spotlight.” The senior had told me the event organizers gave out extra cash prizes for the best solo shots. Posing for couple photos would just hurt my chances. Looking at the die-hard fans, I decided to go for the jugular. I touched the glowing halo above my head. “You know why this halo is held up with wire?” I asked them sweetly. “Because he’s dead. This one’s a fake.” The fans gasped. “No, don’t say that!” I twisted the knife. “And you know why this character is always young in every game? Because he died young.” “Please, stop!” one of them wailed. “How can such a beautiful mouth say such cruel things?” Their ship shattered, the fans dispersed. Fred whispered in my ear, “Weren’t you the one who always loved taking selfies in my arms? Now you can’t even stand to take a picture with me.” Great. He didn’t know about the prize money. I stayed silent and focused on my posing. In the end, my hard work paid off. I won a two-hundred-dollar bonus. Fred, on the other hand, had left early. I found out later that a talent scout had spotted him and offered him a contract. “Why him and not me?” I grumbled to my senior. “I’m good-looking too!” She rolled her eyes. “Hollywood has plenty of beautiful women. What it needs is more handsome men.” 5 I didn’t see Fred for a long time after that. He seemed to be busy and was rarely on campus. Under my senior’s guidance, I started making some decent money. It was hard work, but not as exhausting as before. As finals approached, I needed more time to study, so I dropped all my off-campus jobs and picked up a shift serving food in the cafeteria. When I saw my roommate, I’d heap two huge spoonfuls of food onto her plate. When Fred showed up, my hand would suddenly develop a tremor. A scoop of braised pork would shrink to two tiny, thumbnail-sized pieces by the time it landed on his tray. I swear, it had nothing to do with the beautiful girl standing next to him. It was just that when he was dating me, all we ever ate was the cheapest mapo tofu. Now that he was with someone else, he was eating braised pork. The injustice of it all! Fred frowned at the meager portion but didn’t say anything. The girl beside him, however, did. “Excuse me, I don’t think that’s a full serving. I’m going to have to report you to the manager.” Up close, her features were as delicate as a doll’s. Amelia. I knew who she was. The daughter of a movie mogul. For the past month, rumors had been flying around campus that Fred was dating her. I gritted my teeth. How could he be so lucky? We started out cosplaying together, and he gets discovered by a talent scout. We both wanted to marry into wealth, and he actually finds a real heiress. Ugh, where was my prince? I’d looked up this apparently blind heiress online multiple times. Okay, she was even prettier in person. A sour feeling churned in my stomach. I wasn’t jealous. I just felt sorry for her. She was wasted on Fred. Seeing my silence, Amelia opened her mouth to speak again. Before she could, I snatched her tray and piled on two massive scoops of braised pork. “This stuff is delicious. This is all that’s left, so you should have it.” She blinked, a look of dismay on her perfect face. “Oh, god, I’m such an idiot,” she muttered. “I won’t report you. Please, just… slap me or something.” 6 Right there, in front of Fred, Amelia added me on social media. Fred said nothing. I, on the other hand, had a devious thought: I’m going to steal his sugar mama. So what if Fred was handsome, athletic, smart, and good in bed? I, Melinda Jiang, was no slouch either. If I couldn’t find a prince of my own, I’d just have to steal his princess. I began a relentless campaign of flattery. I liked every single one of her posts. She posted a picture of her morning coffee? I was right there, commenting, “Even your fingertips are a beautiful color.” She posted a selfie? I was the first to comment: “It’s enough to be just a little pretty. You don’t have to be a perfect ten.” She posted a picture of the moon late at night? I was on it in seconds: “Even if I turned off the moon, you would shine brighter.” After a while, Fred couldn’t take it anymore. Fred: Melinda, I never knew you were such a suck-up. Me: That’s because you always licked all the yogurt lids, so I never got the chance. Fred was silent. Half an hour later, a delivery of fifty containers of yogurt arrived at my dorm. Fred: Is that enough for you? Now stick to licking your yogurt lids and leave her alone. Such a classic “overbearing CEO” move. I was green with envy. That kid didn’t even have an official title, and he was already throwing money around like that. This was the same guy who used to agonize for days over buying a single yogurt. Now he was sending his ex-girlfriend fifty at a time without a second thought. It was true what they said: latch on to the right rich family, and you’re set for life. My determination to steal his patron only grew stronger.

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1 My four-month-old niece was choking, milk flooding her lungs. She was rushed to the ER. The first person my mother called… was me. Her voice was laced with guilt, each word careful, as if to avoid wounding me. “Honey… Rosie… she’s not going to make it. Do you want to come say goodbye?” It was three in the morning. Darkness draped the world, wind rattling the trees—a sound that chilled me. I didn’t understand my mother’s tone, but the urgency shook me awake. My husband Mark and I threw on clothes and raced to the hospital. Outside the ICU, the scene felt surreal. My sister-in-law Jenna touched up her lipstick casually, like she’d been out clubbing. My brother Kevin held a critical condition report with his daughter’s name, yet shrugged and decided to stop treatment. “She’s a burden,” he said. “Keeping her alive is wasting money. Let it go. I don’t want to save her.” Mark shot me a confused look. “Four months ago, she was everything to them. Now she’s a ‘burden’?” I sighed, bitterness washing over me. “It’s simple, Mark. They think that baby is ours.” Jenna finished applying a fresh coat of crimson to her lips and shot me a look of pure contempt. A smug smile played on her face, a silent declaration of some secret victory. When she spoke of Rosie, her voice dripped with a sick sort of pleasure. “Just a girl,” she sneered. “If she dies now, at least she’ll save the family some money. It’s not easy making a living these days, you know?” She added, “Born unlucky. What can you do?” My mother shot her a sharp, warning glare, then turned to Mark and me, her expression cautious. “You two… do you want to go in and see her? This might be the last time.” Mark’s hand tightened on my sleeve, a sheen of sweat breaking out on his forehead. “Mom, if anyone should see her, it should be her own parents, right? Why are you asking Pathy and me first?” In my last life, my mother had asked the exact same question. Back then, I was so overwhelmed by the sudden tragedy, so consumed with worry for the baby in the ICU, that I didn’t notice the strangeness in her words. Instead, I pleaded with my brother, Kevin, to keep fighting for her. “If it’s about the money, I can pay for it! Rosie was perfectly healthy yesterday, how could this have happened?” I’d cried. “Please, just try everything! There might still be a chance. This is a life we’re talking about!” A look of profound sadness crossed my mother’s face then. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she slapped herself, hard. “I’m so sorry, Pathy,” she sobbed. “It’s all my fault. I didn’t burp her properly after her feeding… she must have choked. I was so tired, I just fell asleep for a second, and when I woke up, her face was blue. I wish it were me in there! I’d trade my life for hers in a heartbeat!” In my past life, I couldn’t understand why she was apologizing to me. The baby in that room was Jenna’s daughter. Jenna and Kevin sat on a long, blue bench down the hall, completely unfazed by my mother’s dramatic display. They were scrolling through TikTok, the tinny music from a dance video loud enough to drown out her sobs. The atmosphere was bizarre, surreal. The sharp scent of antiseptic burned my nostrils. Nurses and doctors rushed back and forth, their faces grim. Through the glass window of the ICU, I could see Rosie’s tiny body, a fragile doll entangled in a web of tubes. My heart clenched. I couldn’t let them give up. I pulled my bank card from my wallet and handed it to Mark. “Go, deposit fifty thousand dollars into her hospital account. Now.” But the moment my mother saw the card, her expression changed. She threw up a hand to stop us. “No! That money is for your little Peanut! You save that for her future.” I was baffled. Just a moment ago, she was saying she’d die for Rosie. Now, her tears were gone, her face a mask. She wouldn’t even let us spend money to save the baby’s life. Was fifty thousand dollars really more valuable than Rosie’s life? At a moment of life and death, her sudden clarity about whose money was whose felt deeply, horribly wrong. But I couldn’t bring myself to question her in front of my brother. Our daughter, Peanut, and their daughter, Rosie, were born just minutes apart in the same hospital. After that, my mother was constantly at our house, always cooing over the babies. As a mother myself, I knew the gut-wrenching pain of seeing a child suffer. I had hoped that the sight of the money would convince Kevin and Jenna to change their minds. But their response was eerily identical to my mother’s. Kevin clicked his tongue. “That little brat isn’t worth my sister’s money. That cash is for Peanut.” Jenna’s face, when she saw my bank card, turned even paler than it had been when she first heard Rosie was dying. “Such a waste,” she murmured, her eyes fixed on the card. “All that money on her… what a complete waste.” I didn’t know it then, but the baby lying in that room, the one they were so willing to discard, was my own daughter. The daughter I had fought for through a grueling labor and an emergency C-section, a battle that had taken me to the edge of death and back. That child, dismissed and abandoned on the brink of death, was the one who should have been my precious Peanut. From the moment she was admitted to the moment she took her last breath and left this cruel world, Mark and I never got to hold her. We never got to call her our darling, never got to press her tiny forehead against our cheeks and feel the warmth of her skin. Her helpless little body was just a canvas for tubes and wires, lying silently on a sterile pediatric bed. That image replayed in my mind a million times. Until I was reborn, I could never let it go. In my past life, my mother, brother, and sister-in-law had planned it all from the beginning. They would swap their baby with mine and have me raise her. It was my mother’s idea. “Your sister married well, and she’s successful herself,” she’d told them. “If you give her your child to raise, the baby will have the best of everything—the best education, the best opportunities. And she’ll inherit everything. Think about it. Your retirement will be completely secure.” Jenna had grinned from ear to ear, her mind filled with images of my closet full of Louis Vuitton bags. She agreed instantly. Kevin, smug at the thought of someone else raising his child, didn’t even bother to learn the first thing about caring for a newborn. “I’m the only son,” he’d declared, picking up his phone to start a game. “It’s my sister’s duty to help raise my kid.” With everyone on board, my mother had kicked back, grabbing a handful of snacks from the table and turning on the TV. “Besides,” she’d said casually, “your sister will have nannies for her baby. Our little one… we’ll just have to make do.” It was that reckless indifference that led to my daughter choking on milk in their care. Not long after they gave up on the rescue effort that day, the baby died. A doctor, his face full of pity, wrapped her in a white receiving blanket and brought her out to the family. But my mother recoiled, calling a dead baby “bad luck.” She stood frozen, refusing to take her. Kevin and Jenna had already called a cab and left. Just like that, my daughter was abandoned, alone in that cold, empty hospital. Their heartlessness disgusted me, but I felt powerless. What could I do? They were their own family. In my past life, I told myself that even though I wasn’t her mother, we shared blood, a connection. So, with Mark’s encouragement, I stepped forward and took the poor, tiny bundle from the doctor’s arms. I didn’t know that it would be the first and the last time I would ever hold my own child. From the cremation to the burial, my brother’s family never showed up. They never contributed a dime. Mark, though confused, tried to comfort me. “It’s okay, we’ll handle it. Maybe… maybe they’re just so heartbroken they’re pretending it never happened.” He sighed. “I can’t stop thinking about her. Taking care of this myself… it gives me some peace.” I convinced myself he was right and arranged everything perfectly. But every time I saw that tiny, black casket, I felt a piece of me had been carved out, leaving a hollow, aching void. I didn’t know what it was, but something had been stolen from my very soul. I couldn’t bear to look. The thought of that poor baby brought on endless fits of weeping. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. I grew thinner and thinner, a ghost haunting my own life. Mark worried I had postpartum depression and took me to a therapist, which helped, but the wound never truly healed. What I never expected was how doting Kevin and Jenna were to our daughter, Peanut. Over the years, they showered her with affection, spoiling her even more than I did. They bought her anything she wanted, things they would never dream of buying for themselves. And as Peanut grew, she started to look more and more like Jenna. Especially her eyes. Mark and I both have double eyelids, but Jenna has monolids. So did Peanut. And they had the exact same upward tilt. The ugly thought circled in my mind, a vulture I couldn’t shoo away. “Mark,” I asked one day, “don’t you think… Peanut and Jenna look a little too much alike?” He froze. As he replayed the years in his mind, a chill ran down his spine. “Why have they never had another child?” he murmured. “And they’re always so… intense with Peanut. And their behavior at Rosie’s funeral… it was so cold. Thinking back, none of it makes sense.” He paled. “Just the other day, your brother asked me to sign the deed to the Lakeside Villa over to Peanut. They’re obsessed with making sure she inherits our wealth.” Before we could investigate, it was all over. The day Peanut returned from studying abroad, my brother and sister-in-law held a press conference. On camera, my mother cried hysterically while Jenna dabbed at her eyes. “It’s all my fault,” my mother wailed. “I was changing their diapers when they were babies, and I must have mixed them up! Our Peanut… she’s my son’s biological daughter!” She produced a DNA test—prepared long in advance—and ambushed us with it. Peanut, the daughter we had raised with all our love, clearly knew about it already. She went live on social media, tearfully reuniting with her “real” parents and changing her last name without missing a beat. The story went viral. The headlines praised her as a good girl who hadn’t been corrupted by her adoptive parents’ wealth, a paragon of filial piety. She gained millions of followers overnight. Mark and I were left to weep at a small, lonely grave in a forgotten corner of the cemetery. The truth was, the babies were never even in the same room for my mother to “mix up.” Unless she had done it on purpose. But years had passed. The evidence was gone, buried with the truth. Overnight, Mark’s hair turned gray. I aged a decade, the life force drained out of me. We had raised Peanut for years; we loved her. After the truth came out, we cut off all contact with my family, but we knew the girl herself was innocent in the swap. We didn’t blame her, but she was no longer our daughter. The closeness was gone. But then, at her birth parents’ urging, she came to us, feigning a desire to “reconnect.” She invited us to go hiking. And on a scenic overlook, she shoved us off a cliff with a vicious grin. After our deaths, Peanut inherited our entire fortune and lived happily ever after with her doting, “real” family. A wave of pure hatred jolted me back to the present. I linked my arm through my husband’s, giving him a reassuring squeeze. A soft smile touched my lips as I echoed his earlier question. “You’re right, Mom,” I said sweetly. “If Rosie doesn’t make it, shouldn’t Kevin and Jenna be the ones to say goodbye? They are her parents, after all.” I paused, letting the words hang in the air. “Anyone who didn’t know better might think we were her parents.” I turned to my brother and his wife. “And are you two really sure you don’t want to keep trying to save her?” Jenna’s lip curled in a sneer. “That cursed thing was lucky to live in our house for a few months. No good fortune at all. Choking on milk, of all things.” She laughed, a short, ugly sound. “She either had it coming or was paying for sins from a past life.” Kevin didn’t even look up from his phone. “Yeah, sis, mind your own business. Peanut is safe and sound at home. Just focus on your own kid.” I looked toward the ICU, at the tiny form hooked up to all those machines, and a cold smile spread across my face. It was time to give them a little hint. A slow cut is always the most painful. Why should they get to wait eighteen years for the truth when I could give it to them now? “You know,” I said conversationally, “Rosie is only four months old, but she already looks so much like Jenna. Those monolids are identical. Not like our Peanut. She has double eyelids, just like her dad.” Kevin’s expression froze. A flicker of confusion crossed his face. “That’s not right,” he muttered to himself. “Weren’t both kids already…”

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The lab exploded. My wife spent the night giving blood to one of her male students. And I filed for divorce. Everyone who knew us knew that my wife, Dr. Elena Hayes, loved me more than life itself. The director of the Institute and her colleagues all came to talk me down. “Steve, it was just a blood donation. She was saving a life. That’s a good thing. You’re going to throw your marriage away over that?” “You two have such a strong bond. A divorce? It’ll kill her!” And they were right. Elena loved me enough to die for me. When that lab exploded years ago, she was the one who shielded me with her own body. I walked away without a scratch. She suffered a severe concussion and almost didn’t wake up. But all I said, my voice flat and cold, was, “We either go to the courthouse, or we let the lawyers handle it.” 01 My words struck Elena like a physical blow. Her face, already pale from the blood donation, turned a ghostly white. Still, she forced herself to stand, reaching for my hand. “Steve, please, try to understand. Leo just got out of critical condition. I couldn’t just stand by and let him die.” She moved closer, and the sterile, antiseptic smell clinging to her made my stomach turn. I shoved her away. “Don’t touch me.” She stumbled backward, catching her heel and falling to the floor with a muffled cry of pain. I watched, unmoved, as she lay there, a sheen of sweat on her forehead from the pain. But she didn’t blame me. She just looked up at me, her voice deliberately soft. “Steve, I gave four hundred milliliters. I’m so dizzy… I need some soup or something to get my strength back, or I’m going to faint.” I recognized the look in her eyes. It was her way of surrendering. In the past, no matter how vicious our fights, the moment she changed the subject and softened her tone, I would always calm down. This time, it only fueled my rage. I towered over her, my voice like ice. “Either you sign the divorce papers now, or you can die right here in front of me.” With that, I stepped around her and headed for the bedroom. She lunged, grabbing the cuff of my pants, her voice a desperate plea. “A divorce? Just because I gave blood to a student? I swear to you, Steve, there is nothing going on between us.” Her eyes were wide with confusion, as if she genuinely couldn’t comprehend what she had done wrong. “Aside from our work at the Institute, we’ve never even spoken a word in private.” I tried to pull away, but her grip was like iron. Just then, the doorbell rang. I took a deep breath, trying to shove down the frustration, and went to open it. The Institute’s director and two of Elena’s colleagues stood on the doorstep, holding a fruit basket and a certificate of commendation. They were here to celebrate her good deed. “Is Dr. Hayes in? We just wanted to stop by and see how she’s doing.” Her assistant smiled, holding out the certificate, but his gaze drifted past me and landed on the figure on the floor. His expression changed in an instant. “Dr. Hayes! Why are you on the floor?” He rushed past me to help her, carefully taking her arm. Seeing her disheveled state, he turned on me, his voice sharp with anger. “Mr. Hayes, what is wrong with you? Dr. Hayes is weak from giving blood. Why didn’t you help her up?” I let out a cold laugh, leaning against the doorframe. “Help her? Why would I help a cheating woman?” The assistant’s face flushed with rage. “How dare you!” he sputtered. “Leo was injured conducting an experiment for the team! He’s still in a coma! Dr. Hayes was the only one with his rare blood type. Was she supposed to just let a student die? The entire Institute can vouch for them—their relationship is purely professional!” The director frowned, his disapproval of me obvious. “Mr. Hayes, couples should talk through their problems, not throw around baseless accusations. Dr. Hayes’s actions are a model for the entire Institute. This kind of behavior is… unseemly.” They were all protecting her. I was shaking with a rage so profound it felt like it would tear me apart. “I don’t give a damn about what’s ‘unseemly’! I want a divorce!” I yelled. “And if she won’t sign, I’ll go to the Institute every single day and make a scene until she can’t stand it anymore!” The director and his colleagues exchanged uneasy glances, whispering among themselves. “Do you think the explosion all those years ago… did something to his mind? He’s become so unhinged, like a madman…” My body went rigid. The memories I had fought so hard to bury came rushing back. The blinding flash, the searing heat, and Elena, holding me, shielding me. Elena’s voice, laced with concern, cut through the haze. “Steve, it’s over. Don’t think about it. I’ll always protect you.” “Shut up!” I snapped. I strode over to her and, ignoring her shocked gasp, ripped the wedding ring from her finger. The director could no longer contain himself. He grabbed my arm, pulling me back. “Steve Hayes, you’ve gone too far! Dr. Hayes saved your life! Not only are you ungrateful, but you’re repaying her kindness with this cruelty? Take our advice. Drop this talk of divorce. Now.” 02 Seeing that my expression remained a cold mask, the director’s patience finally wore thin. “Mr. Hayes,” he said, his tone scolding, “you have no evidence. What right do you have to suspect an affair?” The others chimed in, their voices a chorus of condemnation. But then, Elena raised a hand, cutting them off. “That’s enough. This is my family’s business. It’s not your place to interfere.” They all stared, stunned. They couldn’t believe she was still defending me. Her assistant stomped his foot in frustration. “Dr. Hayes, what are you doing? He’s the one being unreasonable! We’re on your side!” “I said, leave.” Elena’s gaze swept over them, her voice now hard and unyielding. “He is my husband. No one else gets a say.” There was nothing more they could do. Fuming, they left. Elena let out a sigh of relief and turned to me, her voice soft again. “Steve, I know I was wrong. I shouldn’t have given blood to Leo without talking to you first. I promise, I’ll never speak to him again. As long as you don’t divorce me, you can punish me however you want. Hit me, scream at me, I’ll take it.” I turned away, deliberately avoiding her eyes. “Do you remember my first year at the lab? Leo spilled diluted acid on my hand during an experiment. You were so worried. You said you’d never let him near me again.” I paused. “Now you’re saving his life. Tell me, shouldn’t I want a divorce?” The color drained from her face. Her eyes darted around the room as she stammered, “I… I remember now. But it was an emergency, I forgot. I promise, Steve, I will keep my distance from him.” Just then, my phone rang. “Hello? I’ll be right down.” Downstairs, my friend was waiting in his car. He handed me a package from the passenger seat. I took it, and tears immediately welled in my eyes. A few minutes later, after I’d wiped my face, I saw the director’s car pull back up. The door flew open, and the assistant grabbed my arm, his voice frantic. “Mr. Hayes, come with us! Quickly! Dr. Hayes collapsed from blood loss!” When I didn’t move, his panic turned to anger. “You left the door open when you left! A neighbor saw her on the floor and called an ambulance! She’s in the emergency room right now! You have to go see her!” The director stepped forward, his tone pleading. “Steve, please. She just gave blood. Her body is weak. This could be serious.” A cold smile touched my lips. “If I go to the hospital, the only thing I’ll be talking about is the divorce. Aren’t you afraid I’ll just push her over the edge?” The director was speechless with rage, pointing a trembling finger at me. He gave the assistant a look, and together, they practically dragged me into the car. We had just reached her hospital room when a nurse came rushing out. “Who is Steve Hayes? The patient in the next room, Mr. White, is awake and is demanding to see an Steve Hayes.” The assistant pointed at me, and the nurse grabbed my arm, pulling me into the room. Leo White sat up in bed, his face pale, an IV line in his arm. The moment he saw me, his expression grew urgent. 03 “Steve,” Leo said, his voice earnest and desperate. “I woke up and my classmates told me what happened. That you and Dr. Hayes are fighting because of me.” He looked me straight in the eye. “I swear on my life, there is nothing between me and Dr. Hayes but a professional, student-teacher relationship. I have never had a single improper thought about her!” He glanced down at the burn scars on his arms and gave a bitter smile. “But you don’t have to worry anymore, Steve. My parents heard about my accident. They don’t want me in research anymore. They’re flying in from overseas the day after tomorrow to take me abroad to study something else.” I opened my mouth, but swallowed the words that were about to come out. The director and the assistant, who had followed me in, looked immensely relieved. They had expected a shouting match and had come to intervene. They never imagined it would be resolved so peacefully. The director shot me a disapproving look. “Well, Mr. Hayes. You got what you wanted. Can we assume this nonsense is over now?” The assistant added quickly, “That was all you were worried about, right? It’s settled. So you can stop this talk about divorce.” Just as he finished speaking, Elena, ignoring a nurse’s protests, burst into the room. Her face lit up when she saw me. “Steve! I heard you came to see me.” Seeing the joy on her face, I shattered her hope without a second thought. “See you?” I scoffed. “I came to get my divorce.” Her smile froze, and her face went chalk-white. The assistant, his own face turning purple with rage, steadied her and yelled at me, “I can’t take this anymore! How far are you going to push this?!” The director stood by, watching Elena, waiting for her to finally snap. After all this, even he, a stranger, was at his limit. Surely she would be furious. But her reaction shocked everyone. Elena pushed the assistant away and staggered forward, her voice raw. “Steve, as long as you don’t divorce me, I’ll do anything you ask!” The room fell silent. Ignoring the stares, she tried to find common ground, her voice gentle. “Steve, what’s that you’re holding?” I laughed, a harsh, broken sound. Then I turned and ran. I ran for the stairwell, for the roof. Standing on the edge of the twenty-story building, I looked down at Elena as she followed, her face a mask of terror. My heart hardened. I screamed, my voice tearing from my throat, “Elena, if you don’t agree to this divorce, I’ll jump from here right now!” 04 The director gave me a look of utter disgust and turned to his assistant. “Call the police! Tell them we have a lunatic threatening to jump. And call his family. Get them here. Now.” He sighed, looking at Elena, who was on her knees, begging me to come down. “What has happened to them? It’s like they’re two different people.” Minutes later, the police, my parents, and my mother-in-law arrived. The moment my mother saw me on the ledge, her legs gave out, and she collapsed. “Steve! Get down from there! Whatever it is, you can tell me! Don’t do something you’ll regret!” she sobbed. “Is it something with Elena? We can fix it!” My mother-in-law shoved Elena forward, her voice trembling with panic. “You must have done something to hurt him! Apologize! Don’t let him do this!” I stared at their frantic faces, and two weeks of pent-up misery threatened to overflow. I opened my mouth to speak. But the assistant cut in, his voice cold. “Ma’am, I know it’s not my place, but I can’t stand by and watch him torture Dr. Hayes like this.” He recounted the events of the past few days, word for word, without exaggeration. My parents’ faces darkened. My mother-in-law’s expression hardened into a furious mask. “Steve! How far are you going to take this?!” she yelled at me. “There is nothing going on between Elena and that student! I would stake my life on it!” I clenched my fists. “I’ll take it all the way to a divorce!” My mother, helped to her feet, screamed at me, her voice shaking. “You get down here right now! You’ve had it too good for too long! How has Elena ever wronged you? She saved your life, you ungrateful brat! You would be dead if not for her!” Elena, pale and tearful, cried out, “Steve, if you’re worried about me working with other men, I’ll quit my job tomorrow! I’ll stay home with you every day. I’ll never speak to another man again!” She was already reaching for her phone to type her resignation. Suddenly, my mother-in-law lunged through the crowd like a madwoman, rushing towards me. Before I could react, she slapped me hard across the face. I teetered on the edge, almost falling. She pointed a finger in my face, her voice a sharp shriek. “My daughter worked her entire life to get to where she is! Who are you to destroy her career?! She saved your life, and this is how you repay her? You’re a monster!” I wiped a smear of blood from my lip and looked at my mother-in-law, shielding Elena behind her. And I started to laugh. “Saved me?” I turned and screamed at Elena, a raw, hysterical sound. “Why didn’t you die in that explosion! You liar!” My mother rushed forward to grab me, but I threw her off. “Steve Hayes!” she shrieked, trembling with fury. “Don’t push your luck! Get down here before this gets completely out of hand!” I saw the police officers moving closer and suddenly felt a strange calm wash over me. “But I want it to get out of hand.” My mother-in-law clutched her chest and stumbled towards the police, sobbing. “Officer! He’s insane! He’s mentally ill! Take him to a psychiatric hospital! Don’t let him hurt my daughter anymore!” An officer, having been briefed on the situation, gently supported her, looking at me with confusion. “Mr. Hayes, if you want a divorce, we can help mediate. But you can’t use your own life as a bargaining chip. Please, come down. We’re here to help.” At the officer’s words, my mother-in-law’s voice rose to a scream. “I don’t agree to a divorce! A divorce would be an admission that my daughter did have an affair! He needs to make a public apology and clear my daughter’s name!” The assistant added with a sneer, “Exactly. He can’t just cause all this chaos and then walk away with a divorce. It’s not that simple.” Seeing my mother-in-law’s unyielding stance, I calmly held out the package I’d been clutching. She took it hesitantly. She glanced at it for only a second, and the color drained from her face. Her lips trembled. “Fine,” she choked out. “This divorce is happening. Now!”

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