Category: English

1 The new accountant was a clumsy airhead. On payday, she transferred only one cent to me, causing my mother’s medication payment to fail. My mother died. Before I could confront her, she was already sobbing. “I’m sorry! I sent your salary to that janitor you fired!” Her husband, the CFO, shielded her. “Not her fault. You should’ve had emergency funds.” Overcome with grief, I nearly fainted. At the funeral, Scarlett hired a loud lion dance troupe. I screamed at her to leave. She cried, “I just wanted it to be lively!” I had an asthma attack and reached for my inhaler. She slapped it away, yelling, “That’s illegal!” As I collapsed, I heard her whimper, “I didn’t know it was medicine…” My husband covered for her. “Alana Vance died of grief.” That night, I was cremated unnoticed. When I opened my eyes, I was back on payday. … There was only one minute left before the online sale for my mom’s medication ended. No time to think. I frantically switched the payment card linked to my account. Ding. Payment successful. My mother was safe. Tears welled in my eyes. I looked around, my heart pounding. It was real. I was back. I took a deep breath, a storm of fury and sorrow crashing over me. Scarlett and Michael, that wretched pair who had cost me my life. I would make them pay. Just then, a figure stumbled into my office. Scarlett stood before me, bowing timidly. “Ms. Vance, I’m so sorry! I’m so clumsy, I sent your salary to Mrs. Gable!” “She’s a single mom. Life must be so hard for her after you fired her. Please, can’t we just let her keep it?” she pleaded, her eyes wide and innocent as she tugged on my sleeve. I let out a sharp, humorless laugh and shoved her hand away. “Let’s get one thing straight. Mrs. Gable and I are both victims here.” “The person responsible for this mess is you. You’d better fix it, and fix it fast. Otherwise, I’m reporting this to upper management.” I had just closed a huge deal last month. My commission was at least a hundred thousand dollars. Scarlett’s face went white. She saw me pull out my phone and lunged for it. “Ms. Vance, you earn so much! Can’t you just consider it charity?” My salary was the money I worked myself to the bone for, money to save my mother’s life. The thought made my teeth ache with hatred for this woman. I pushed her away without hesitation. I didn’t use much force, but she let out a piercing scream. “Scarlett? What’s wrong?” Michael, my husband, burst into the room. “Mr. Hayes, I’m so sorry! I’m so stupid, I made Ms. Vance angry!” Scarlett sobbed into his chest. His eyes, when they turned to me, were chips of ice. “Alana! Does bullying a young girl make you feel powerful?” “Are you that desperate for money? It’s just a hundred grand. I’ll transfer it to you, alright?” A notification chimed, confirming the transfer, but my heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. When my mother had been rushed to the ER, I had begged him for help with the medical bills. He’d lectured me about keeping our finances separate before marriage. Now, to clean up Scarlett’s mess, he didn’t even blink. “There’s your money. But you scared Scarlett. Apologize to her.” My head snapped up. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “What did you say?” Michael’s tone grew colder. “You pushed her. You should apologize.” Scarlett tugged at his sleeve. “Michael, it’s fine. I’m just a clumsy person. I don’t hold grudges, even when I’m bullied.” But Michael took a step forward, his hand clamping onto the back of my neck, forcing my head down. The humiliation ignited a firestorm of rage, burning away all reason. I don’t know where the strength came from, but I broke free and slapped him, hard, across the face. “Michael Hayes, are you trying to get fired from your position as CFO?” Before he could answer, Scarlett shrieked, clutching at him. “She hit him! Help! Ms. Vance is assaulting someone!” I gave a cold smile. “That’s right, I hit him. Go on, call the police.” “You two treat company funds like a joke. Let’s have the police sort this out.” Scarlett’s wailing stopped abruptly. She avoided my gaze, looking guilty. Perhaps my expression was truly terrifying, because Michael’s voice softened. “Alana, you know Scarlett has always been a bit… slow. Mistakes happen.” “Let’s not make a scene in front of the other employees. We can discuss this at home.” That wasn’t the tune he was singing when he was trying to force me to apologize. I looked at Scarlett cowering behind him and forced a smile. “Really? But this company doesn’t employ idiots. Nor does it employ traitors who sell us out.” At my words, Michael’s face flushed a deep, angry red. “What are you talking about!” He looked flustered for a moment, then puffed out his chest, putting on his executive air. “Alana, if I recall, you have a meeting with Orion Group next week to discuss the next quarter’s partnership.” “You should give newcomers like Scarlett more opportunities to learn. Then maybe these mistakes wouldn’t happen.” I raised an eyebrow. “Fine by me. But just so we’re clear, whatever happens is on you.” He looked pleased that I’d agreed so readily. Scarlett practically jumped into his arms with excitement. “Thank you for trusting me, Mr. Hayes! It’s a good thing I’m not on Ms. Vance’s team, otherwise, how would I ever grow?” “Don’t mind her,” Michael soothed. “Scarlett, I can see you have great potential. Go for it.” Scarlett’s pathetic attempt at a veiled insult was utterly worthless to me. I just smirked and showed them the door. Orion Group was our biggest client. Losing them would cripple our core business. Since Michael had so much faith in Scarlett’s abilities, I was happy to let him have his way. This time, without me to clean up her mess, let’s see who had the skills to salvage the disaster she was sure to create. But I had clearly underestimated the depths of human stupidity. Scarlett had chosen a remote, rustic farmhouse for the meeting. The place was so high up in the mountains that not even a golf cart could make the final ascent. The Orion executives, all middle-aged men, nearly had heart attacks climbing the trail in the hundred-degree heat. Scarlett, meanwhile, skipped along with a portable fan clipped to her shirt. Utterly oblivious, she turned and pointed at the lead executive, chirping, “Mister, you’ve got three spare tires around your belly! You should exercise more!” “But don’t thank me, thank Ms. Vance! If she hadn’t invited me, I never would have picked such a wonderful place!” The executive’s face was a thundercloud. He didn’t say another word for the rest of the climb. At dinner, I was treated to another masterclass in incompetence. For a business meeting, Scarlett hadn’t ordered a single bottle of wine. Orange juice, coconut milk, Coke… There wasn’t even a single impressive main course. The table sat in stunned silence. Even Michael couldn’t take it anymore. He hissed at her, “Scarlett, what the hell is this? This is a business negotiation, not a tea party!” Her eyes immediately filled with tears. She looked at me, her voice thick with blame. “This was Ms. Vance’s account. She didn’t teach me what to do. How was I supposed to know?” And there it was. There was no real idiot here. Scarlett had seen my huge commission last month and wanted to sabotage me, then pin the blame on me. I just kept my head down and ate, offering no help whatsoever. A moment later, the lead executive from Orion slammed his chopsticks down. His face was livid as he met my gaze. “Ms. Vance, if it weren’t for our long-standing relationship, Orion would be taking its business elsewhere this quarter.” Before I could respond, Michael was on his feet, sweating profusely. “Mr. Sterling, please don’t be angry! This is all just a…” “A what? Ms. Vance and I have been working together for years! Your company has never been this absurd!” With that, Mr. Sterling and his team turned and stormed back down the mountain, leaving Michael standing there, frozen. Scarlett was still sniffling. “Ms. Vance, now you won’t get your deal. Are you going to be mad at me?” “Shut up!” Michael finally roared at her. Scarlett’s tears started flowing in earnest. The second we got back to the office, we were all summoned to the CEO’s office. The boss looked furious. Michael was the first to speak, twisting the narrative. “You knew Scarlett was inexperienced, yet you just sat there and watched her mess everything up? Alana, did you do this on purpose?” I spoke calmly. “I said I would not be responsible for the consequences. Mr. Hayes, you were the one who said we should give young people a chance to grow. I gave her the chance. Are you not satisfied with the results of her growth?” My words left him sputtering with rage. “You’re just twisting my words!” The CEO’s gaze flickered between me and Michael. In the end, the hammer fell on me. “Alana, you’re the head of the sales department! To just watch a client walk away like that… I’m very disappointed in you.” “Your entire quarterly bonus is revoked. I want you to take some time and reflect on this.” It was always like this. No matter what the truth was, I was always the one who had to bear the consequences. Scarlett’s stupidity was forgivable. Michael’s poor judgment was a minor misstep. But me? The better my performance, the lower my pay seemed to get. My heart sank. The last flicker of hope I had for this place was extinguished. I said nothing, just nodded. “Understood, sir.” I walked out of the office, took a deep breath, and made a phone call. “Hello, this is Alana Vance. I’m available to talk whenever you are.” I stopped paying attention to the office drama. I heard Scarlett’s “clumsy beauty” reputation was now company-wide, thanks to a string of blunders. I went about my work as usual, until I noticed last month’s expense reimbursements hadn’t been processed. The money I had prepaid at the hospital for my mom’s care was running low. I went to find Scarlett. In front of the entire office, she blinked her big, innocent eyes at me. “Ms. Vance, are you sure you gave me your receipts? Or are you just trying to use ‘reimbursement’ as an excuse to get more money?” “That’s not allowed, you know. Even for a manager, Scarlett can’t bend the rules~” My face hardened. I kicked her chair out from under her. Did she really think I’d fall for the same trick twice? She screamed as she tumbled to the floor. The fall revealed the shredder bin under her desk, overflowing with chopped-up receipts. I picked up a handful and read them aloud. “Mr. Peterson, Ms. Liu, Mr. Chen… so this is where your receipts went! No wonder no one got their money back last month!” A shocked murmur went through the office. When it came to money, no one was going to let it slide. Ms. Liu’s face darkened. “What’s the point of having an accountant who doesn’t know the first thing about accounting?!” Scarlett fell silent, just sat on the floor and cried. In the end, Michael had to pay everyone out of his own pocket to smooth things over. Next, Scarlett “accidentally” sent the company’s confidential financial statements to every single one of my suppliers. With our bottom line exposed, they all immediately demanded a price hike. The entire company was thrown into chaos. “Michael! If Scarlett screws up one more time, you can both pack your bags and get out!” The CEO’s enraged roar was audible even through the closed door. Michael emerged, looking defeated. He automatically turned to me to fix his problem. “Alana, find new suppliers. And the prices have to be lower than what we were paying before.” I looked at his entitled expression and found the situation utterly absurd. I had gotten us those prices by drinking until I had a bleeding ulcer. Scarlett’s jealousy had ruined the company’s supply chain, and I was expected to clean up the mess? I gave a cold laugh and pulled out the divorce papers. “You want me to clean up your mess? Fine. Sign this.” Michael stared at the papers, stunned. A flicker of conflict crossed his face, but then he gritted his teeth, snatched the pen, and signed his name. The scratch of the nib on the paper was unnaturally loud in the quiet office. I thought I would feel a pang of sadness. But my love for Michael had died in my last life. For once, I left work early to celebrate with friends. Scarlett, who usually bolted out the door the second the clock hit five, knocked on my office door. “What is it?” “Ms. Vance, what’s your number? We should exchange contact info, to make it easier to communicate about work.” She was smiling, but I saw a cold glint in her eyes. I pretended not to notice. “For work matters, just use the internal messaging system.” “Ms. Vance, you said it yourself!” she chirped, looking oddly excited. I just nodded and left. That night, I stumbled home, pleasantly buzzed. The wail of sirens filled the air outside my building. Before I knew what was happening, I was surrounded by police officers, telling me I needed to come with them to the office. It was only when I arrived that I found out what had happened. Late at night, Scarlett had initiated an unauthorized wire transfer of several million dollars to an unknown account. The CEO had nearly had a heart attack when he found out and had immediately called the police. When Scarlett saw me being escorted in, she pointed a shaking finger at me and screamed, “Ms. Vance! You were the one who told me that was the new supplier’s account! You told me to process it as soon as possible! You sent me an internal message!” “I may be a little stupid, but I would never dare to transfer such a huge amount of money on my own!” The lead officer’s face was grim. “Ms. Vance, the internal logs show that you authenticated the account information for Ms. Scarlett and urged her to make the payment.” My expression changed. I met the smug, triumphant looks on Michael and Scarlett’s faces and suddenly, I started to laugh. My voice was calm, clear, and steady. “The message was sent at 11 PM last night. However…” I paused, my eyes sweeping over Michael’s face. “As of yesterday afternoon, I had already officially submitted my resignation and had been removed from all internal company groups and platforms.” “So, my question is, who exactly sent that message?”

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My weddings to Seraphina always ended in disaster. The first time, my drink was spiked with rat poison. I had a seizure on the spot, becoming the laughingstock of high society. The second time, I was stabbed three times at the altar. To this day, I still have to wear a urostomy bag. The third time, an SUV plowed into the wedding venue, crushing my tibia and ending my racing career for good. … And every single one of these “accidents” was, without exception, the handiwork of Seraphina’s mentally challenged childhood friend, Mason. Whenever I showed a flicker of anger or hurt, she was always the first to scold me. “Mason was injured saving my life. He has the mind of a six-year-old. Can you please stop picking on a child?” This time, Mason simply set the chapel on fire. I threw myself over Seraphina to shield her, and my entire body was covered in horrific burns. Seraphina stayed by my side for a whole month. But as I was being discharged, I overheard her talking to a doctor friend. “Just prescribe him whatever. Don’t let him heal too quickly.” Her friend was stunned. “But he was this badly injured trying to save you.” Seraphina cut her off. “His sacrifice is nothing compared to Mason’s.” “I just can’t stand seeing him bully Mason. He caused Mason to burn his hand, so he deserves to be punished.” Her friend gasped. “And… the other times?” Seraphina answered without a second thought. “I taught Mason how to do all of it. His mind is permanently stuck at age six. I have to teach him how to fight back, how to protect himself.” My breath hitched. All this time, all my suffering… had been a gift from the woman I loved most. If that’s the case, then I’ll just leave. 1 As I turned to walk away, the woman continued, savoring her words. “Julian made Mason drink expired milk, giving him food poisoning until he was foaming at the mouth. So I taught Mason how to drug him, to humiliate him in public, too.” “He caused Mason to get a small cut that bled, so I made sure he felt that pain a thousand times over.” “He was always showing off his race cars in front of Mason, making him feel inferior. So I made sure he could never be a race car driver again.” My fists clenched, my eyes burning red. Her friend sighed. “If you don’t love him anymore, why do you keep trying to marry him?” Seraphina’s tone turned weary. “He sold his house to help me start my company, and he’s been with me for so many years. I can’t be too cruel.” “But this is the last time. Once I’ve calmed Mason down, I’ll take Julian abroad for the wedding. It’s the least I can do to give him some closure.” I don’t remember how I left. When I finally snapped out of my daze, the sky was dark. A few voice messages from Seraphina were on my phone. “Julian, you’re a grown man. Are you seriously playing the disappearing act?” “Can you stop this? I’ve been looking for you all day. Come home.” I exited the chat and saw a post from a mutual friend. It was a picture of Seraphina and Mason, clearly having spent the entire day at Disneyland. I was sitting on a bench right outside the hospital. If she had really been looking for me, how could she not have found me? A cold night wind blew past, and a deep, relentless ache throbbed in my amputated leg. I suddenly remembered the first month after the amputation. I was a wreck, completely broken. Seraphina would kiss my stump countless times, whispering tender promises. “Julian, from now on, I’ll be your crutch.” To appease my anger at Mason, she took the blame herself, carving a piece of flesh from her own leg right in front of me. I thought she loved me. How else could she cry before I did whenever I felt the searing pain of a phantom limb? She even established a dedicated research team to design my prosthetic leg. She set up a charity foundation in my name, all to help me get back on my feet. But now I know. All that sweet, tender care was laced with a thousand calculated deceptions. Just then, a notification popped up on my phone: ticket purchase successful. A small measure of calm settled over me. I looked up to see fireworks exploding in the night sky, spelling out Mason’s name in glittering sparks. The light was blindingly bright. My back, scarred and burned from the fire, began to ache with a phantom pain. I remembered then. Today was Mason’s birthday. If it weren’t for the fact that at his birthday party last year, he’d “playfully” pushed me down a flight of stairs, giving me a concussion and making me miss the most important race of my life, I wouldn’t have remembered this day so vividly. It was past midnight when I got home. Sounds of laughter and splashing came from the bathroom. The maid looked at me nervously. “Mr. Mason won’t let us touch him. The madam is helping him bathe.” I froze, struck by lightning. No wonder I would wake up in the hospital in the middle of the night to find Seraphina gone for hours. I fought down the volcanic rage threatening to erupt from my chest, forcing myself not to imagine the intimate scene unfolding behind that door. But then I heard Mason’s happy shout from inside. “I love taking a bath with my big sister!” It was followed by a muffled grunt from Seraphina, her voice strained with restraint. “Be good, Mason. This part of you is only for your sister and the maids to see. Don’t let anyone else touch you here, understand?” “And you can’t touch my… my chest, either.” Mason planted a loud, wet kiss on Seraphina’s cheek. She let out a soft laugh. The sound of running water resumed. I walked into the bedroom, and what I saw there nearly drove me insane. 2 My parents’ photos, the ones I kept hidden in the closet, were now pinned to the wall. Countless darts punctured their faces. They were the last pictures I had of them. My fingers trembled as I pulled out the darts. I clutched the mutilated photos to my chest and sobbed. Meanwhile, the two in the bathroom were still playing. I shot to my feet and stormed to the bathroom door. Just then, Seraphina emerged, helping a naked Mason out. His body was pressed tightly against hers. The moment he saw me, he clapped his hands and yelled, “The cripple’s back!” I glared at him, the air sucked from my lungs. Before I could say a word, Seraphina spoke first. “Mason has the mind of a child. I was just helping him with his bath. There’s no need to look at us like that.” She turned and gently laid Mason on the bed. With practiced ease, she dried his body and helped him into his pajamas. She attended to every detail, even applying his lotion herself. Mason looked at me with smug pride and pouted. “Sister promised she’d only ever bathe me, right?” Seraphina smiled without hesitation. “Yes, I promised.” I stood there, clutching the ruined photos, a crushing weight settling on my chest. No wonder when I fell and passed out in the hospital bathroom, she would rather call a nurse than come in and help me herself. She was keeping a promise to Mason. She cared so much about her promise to him, but she’d conveniently forgotten the one she made to me ten years ago, in that tiny, rundown apartment. She’d sworn through her tears that she would love me with her life. Standing behind them, my voice was a low murmur. “Seraphina, let’s get a divorce.” The room fell silent. After a long moment, Seraphina tucked Mason into bed. She placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. “There, you go to sleep now.” Then, she grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the room. The force of her grip tore open the freshly scabbed wounds on my body. She shoved me against the wall in the dim hallway. “Julian, I’ve had a long day. Don’t start this now.” I met her eyes, a sarcastic smile playing on my lips. “Oh? Is that because you were looking for me all day?” Seraphina looked away, her voice a muddled attempt at placating me. “Julian, I’ve already made the wedding arrangements. We’ll go abroad this time, without Mason. There won’t be any more accidents.” “Don’t be angry, okay?” She reached for my hand but froze, her brow furrowing almost imperceptibly before she quickly pulled away. I understood instantly. She had felt my scars. She was repulsed by the hideous, worm-like ridges of burned flesh on my skin. Seeing the tears welling in my eyes, a look of pity crossed her face. She started to pull me into an embrace… But a sudden cry from Mason echoed from the bedroom. Seraphina immediately spun around and rushed back in, knocking me to the floor in her haste. She didn’t even notice. I sat there on the cold floor and started to laugh, a low, hollow sound. I pulled out my phone and called my lawyer. “Draw up the divorce papers for me. And I want you to sell all of my shares in Pierce Industries to Seraphina’s biggest rival.” A bitter, ironic laugh escaped my lips. “Roxanne Hawthorne… I think she’s going to love this little gift.” Through the crack in the door, I saw Seraphina coaxing Mason to sleep, right there on the bed with him. In the dim light, I thought I saw a flash of a triumphant, mocking smile on Mason’s face. A terrifying possibility struck me. I called for the maid and asked her to pull up the security footage. I was told the cameras were broken. My brow furrowed. “Where are my clothes and luggage?” I asked. The maid looked uneasy. “Mr. Mason… burned them.” As if afraid of my reaction, she quickly added, “The madam said to let him. For fun.” The knot of rage in my chest tightened, my fingers curling into fists. I went to the guest room and didn’t fall asleep until three in the morning. I hadn’t been asleep for long when I was jolted awake by hot milk splashing across my face. Mason lunged at me, his fists raining down on my body. “You damned cripple! This is my house! Get out!” I gasped in pain, pushing myself up and slapping him hard across the face. The next second, a searing sting exploded on my own cheek. 3 Seraphina stared at her hand, stunned. When she met my cold, resolute gaze, a flicker of panic crossed her face. “Julian, I didn’t mean to—” Mason burst into loud, theatrical sobs, pointing an accusing finger at me. “Sister, the bad man hit me! It hurts! I need kisses to make it better!” Seraphina’s expression immediately hardened. She turned, cupped Mason’s face in her hands, and gently blew on his cheek. “Shh, it’s okay, Mason. Sister will kiss it and make the pain go away.” Then, she looked at me. “Apologize.” Mason lifted his chin smugly. “Did you hear that? Seraphina told you to apologize to me!” In that moment, I saw it clearly in his eyes—the undisguised hatred and mockery. That wasn’t the look of someone with the mental capacity of a six-year-old. It was the same look of jealous resentment he used to give me back when he was pathetically trailing after Seraphina and me. Seraphina had always complained to me about Mason’s obsessive advances. But after the boating accident, after he suffered a severe brain injury while “saving” her, her attitude did a complete one-eighty. No matter what Mason did, she demanded that I endure it. But my parents had also died in that accident. They gave their life jackets to Seraphina and Mason so she could get back to me, and then they were swept away by the waves, their bodies never recovered. Mason lost his memory. I lost my parents. And now, it seemed, I was about to lose the woman I loved, too. I stared defiantly into Seraphina’s eyes. “Not happening.” Mason’s wails grew louder. “Sister, he’s mean!” Seraphina’s eyes darkened. She patiently soothed him, “It’s okay, it’s okay, Mason, don’t cry.” “How do you want to punish the bad man? Sister will help you, okay?” With that, she dropped the gentle facade, her voice laced with impatience. “Julian, I’m giving you one last chance. Apologize to Mason!” A sarcastic smile touched my lips. I lifted my pant leg, revealing the cold metal of my prosthetic. I lifted my shirt, exposing the urostomy bag. I pulled down my scarf, showing the gnarled, hideous scar on my neck. My eyes were red as I asked in a dead, flat voice, “Seraphina, is this not enough?” “Punish me? For what? What exactly did I do wrong?” A look of shock flashed across Seraphina’s face. She quickly averted her gaze, unable to meet mine. But a moment later, her eyes darted back to my face, searching for something. Finally, she said stiffly, “Mason is just a child. He was only playing.” “Do you really need to hold a grudge over it?” “Besides, it’s not like I didn’t compensate you. You were always happy to accept the company shares, weren’t you?” There it was again. Every time Mason hurt me, she told me not to pick on a “child.” Then she would throw money at me. Not as compensation, but as a handout. A dismissal. If I hadn’t overheard her confession, I might have gone on believing I was the petty one. Seeing the raw pain in my eyes, Seraphina’s breathing quickened. She sighed, about to step forward to comfort me. But Mason immediately started scrambling towards the window. “If sister won’t get revenge for me, then I don’t like sister anymore!” “I’m going to find Mommy and Daddy!” Seraphina’s face went white with terror, her voice shaking. “Mason, get down from there! Now!” Her eyes were red with panic. “Get down, and I’ll promise you anything!” Mason pointed at me. “I want to ride the doggy! And I want to hear the doggy bark!” Seraphina understood immediately. “Fine,” she agreed instantly. “I’ll make him be a doggy for you to ride. Just please, get down.” She then turned to me, her expression matter-of-fact. “What are you still standing there for? Can’t you see Mason is about to kill himself?” “Get on the floor. We need to calm him down.” The word “dog” sent an uncontrollable tremor through my body. 4 Vivid images of my childhood bullies flashed through my mind. Their voices, calling me a dog, forcing me to crawl on the ground, echoed from the depths of my memory, a battering ram against my heart. The suffocating feeling was so intense I didn’t even notice my fingernails digging into my palms, drawing blood. After ten years together, Seraphina knew better than anyone where the scars on my wrists came from. Every time she touched them, her eyes would well up with tears, and she would swear that the people who had bullied me would pay. But now, she had become one of them. When I didn’t move, she called for the bodyguards. Her voice was merciless. “Julian, I gave you a chance.” “Don’t blame me for being cruel.” At her signal, a bodyguard kicked me hard in my good knee. With a sickening thud, I collapsed to the ground. I struggled violently, but Seraphina leaned in close, her voice a cold, low whisper in my ear. “Julian, just play along. We’re just appeasing Mason.” My eyes blazed as I gritted out, “Seraphina, divorce! I want a divorce!” She grabbed my chin, her grip like steel. “Julian, I’ve been too soft on you all these years. You live in my house, eat my food. It’s time you learned your place.” “Divorce me? Don’t forget, your grandmother is in that expensive nursing home. And I’m the one who pays the bills every year.” The thought of my grandmother stopped me cold. I went limp, giving up the fight. Seraphina let out a soft chuckle, her fingers tracing my swollen cheek. “That’s better, Julian. We’re a family. Mason is my savior, which makes him your savior, too.” “You should never, ever have laid a hand on him.” “And when you do something wrong, there are always consequences.” Seraphina instructed the bodyguards to lift Mason onto my back. She even took the leash from Mason’s dog and fastened it around my neck. Mason shrieked with delight, whipping my back and yanking my hair. “Crawl!” he screamed. “Crawl!” I don’t know how long it went on. From dawn till dusk, I crawled in circles, my knees leaving bloody trails on the pristine floor. Mason, seemingly tireless, rode on my back, his laughter echoing through the grand villa. And Seraphina just sat there, watching his smile with a look of utter adoration, a foolish grin on her own face. She even took out her camera, capturing every moment of his “joy.” The prosthetic leg ground against my raw flesh, my wounds tore open again, and the urostomy bag broke, filling the air with a foul stench. Black spots danced in my vision. At the brink of exhaustion, I looked at Seraphina and begged, “I’m sorry. It was my fault.” “I apologize.” But Seraphina remained seated, a regal, distant figure, her gentle smile directed only at Mason. “Mason, are you happy with this punishment?” Mason finally slid off my back. I breathed a sigh of relief. But his next words sent a chill of pure terror through me. “Sister, I forgive the ugly monster!” “As a reward, can he go play with my pet snakes?” Seraphina pinched his cheek affectionately. “Of course. Whatever makes you happy.” My eyes widened in disbelief. “Seraphina, I’ll die.” She replied with chilling nonchalance. “They’re pet snakes. Not venomous.” I scrambled, trying to crawl away. But I was pinned to the floor. Seraphina gently stroked what little was left of my hair. “Julian, after this, we’ll go abroad for our wedding.” Mason excitedly had the bodyguards drag me to the temperature-controlled room where he kept his hundreds of snakes. As they shoved me through the door, a manic, triumphant gleam shone in Mason’s eyes. He leaned in and whispered in my ear, “You figured it out, didn’t you, Julian?” “Tsk. In that case, you can go die.” Instantly, the scent of my blood drew countless snakes toward me, their tongues flicking, their bodies coiling around my limbs. Through the crack in the door, I saw Seraphina’s silhouette as she led Mason away. I closed my eyes in utter despair… The next morning, Seraphina came downstairs holding two plane tickets, frowning at the empty dining table. She looked at the maid. “Didn’t the master get up to make me breakfast?” The maid trembled. “M-Ma’am… isn’t he still in the snake room?” Seraphina shot up from her chair, her voice sharp. “What? Didn’t I tell you to let him out!” A thick, cold dread began to creep into her heart. The snakes weren’t venomous, but the larger pythons… they could eat a person. Just then, her assistant hurried in, a strange look on her face. “Ma’am, Mr. Mason’s latest intelligence test results just arrived from the lab.” “And… and this is from Mr. Julian. It’s a divorce agreement…”

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I’d been in love with Ian for ten years and never found the courage to tell him. Not until I was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. So I tied him up and made him mine, over and over again. His eyes were bloodshot as he struggled against the ties. “Emma! If you’ve got any guts, you’ll let me go.” I thought if I did, he’d strangle me in a fit of rage. Instead, he took me, claiming every inch of me with a fierce hunger that burned day and night. “Emma,” he growled, his voice raw, “do I look weak to you? You actually drugged me?” 1 I’d been in love with Ian for a decade. From the time I was just a girl to the woman I am now. He lived in the mansion next door. I watched him transform from a lanky teenager into the man he is today, a man whose mature charm was so potent it left me dizzy. But I never dared to say a word. I was terrified that if I confessed and he rejected me, whatever fragile connection we had would shatter completely. Then, ten days ago, I collapsed at work and was rushed to the hospital. The doctor’s face was etched with pity. “Late-stage glioblastoma. It’s too advanced. I’m so sorry, but treatment is no longer a viable option.” I couldn’t just die. Not yet. I hadn’t traveled the world. I hadn’t slept with Ian… My mind flashed to the dark romance novels I’d been reading, filled with possessive men and their obsessive love. I was dying. What was one little transgression in the grand scheme of things? So I called Ian and invited him over for dinner. As the CEO of Sterling Corporation, he was always busy. But he promised he’d come by later. When he arrived, he looked weary from his travels, a winter chill still clinging to his black overcoat. I realized then that he’d been overseas when I called. He had flown for a whole day, walking straight from the airport and into my trap. A pang of guilt hit me. I was about to make up an excuse to send him away, but he walked right past me to the dining table and sat down. Before I could say anything, he started helping himself. I watched, my heart pounding, as he took a spoonful of the spicy Thai soup I’d liberally ‘enhanced’. He glanced up at me, one eyebrow raised in surprise. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Your cooking has improved.” Of course, it had. It was takeout from the best Thai restaurant in the city. Why takeout? Simple. I was afraid that if I cooked, it would taste so bad he wouldn’t eat enough for the drugs to work. I went to the kitchen to grab a bowl, and by the time I returned, his eyes were starting to glaze over. I bit my lip. “Are you tired? Do you want to rest for a bit?” He nodded. “A little dizzy.” “Then you should lie down.” We’d known each other for so many years that all the usual walls were down between us. He followed me to the guest room without a second thought. 2 Ian fell asleep almost instantly. I struggled to pull off his heavy coat, my eyes drawn to the hard planes of his body, hinted at beneath the thin fabric of his white shirt. My lips went dry. My pulse hammered against my ribs. But I couldn’t bring myself to unwrap him completely. Not yet. Instead, I went to my closet and pulled out the collection of silk ties I’d bought for him over the years but never had the nerve to give him. Tonight, they would finally serve their purpose. I used them to bind his hands and feet to the bedposts. When I was done, I collapsed onto the floor beside the bed, my strength gone. I looked up at his handsome face, so peaceful in sleep. I could already imagine the storm that would erupt when he woke up. The same volcanic fury he’d shown when his mother once casually suggested that we should just get married. I stared at him, not wanting to blink, trying to memorize every line and shadow. In a few days, I wouldn’t be able to see him anymore. I wanted to drink my fill. For more than twenty years, I’d been the good, selfless girl. For my final act, I was going to be selfish. Even if he hated me for it, it didn’t matter. That way, when I was gone, he wouldn’t feel a thing. His phone, still in his coat pocket, buzzed incessantly. It was Liam, his assistant. Without hesitating, and afraid the noise would wake him, I answered it. “Ian’s exhausted. He fell asleep right after dinner.” Liam, ever the professional, hung up without another word. Slowly, my own eyelids grew heavy. I climbed onto the bed, wrapped my arms around his waist, and let sleep pull me under. I was jolted awake in the middle of the night by Ian’s furious roar. “Emma!” I shot upright, the sudden movement making my head swim. The world went black for a second, and I tumbled back down, landing in his arms. “Emma! What the hell are you doing?” Doing? I propped myself up on my elbows, my vision still blurry as I looked at him. “Take a guess.” His expression darkened. I shifted, kneeling on the bed to look down at him. “Since you’re awake, let’s get down to business.” Ian’s brow furrowed, his powerful arms straining against the silk ties. A flicker of panic went through me. If he broke free, this whole desperate charade would be for nothing. Closing my eyes, I threw myself on top of him. “Don’t move! Just listen to me!” He gritted his teeth, his voice a low, hateful snarl. “Are you insane?” I lifted my head slightly, my face inches from his. “No, I’m not insane.” “Then what is this?” “I have you tied to my bed. What do you think I want to do?” His pupils constricted, the disgust on his face impossible to hide. “Emma! It’s me, Ian!” he seethed. “Have you lost all sense of decency?” I didn’t want to hear his accusations. My hand shot out to the nightstand, grabbing the first soft thing I could find—a stray sock—and stuffed it into his mouth. Ignoring the fire in his eyes, I stared him down. “Shut up!” He struggled again, but the ties held firm. My heart was a frantic drum against my ribs. “I’m going to kiss you,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Don’t you dare interrupt me.” I pulled the sock from his mouth, and before he could speak, I closed my eyes and crashed my lips against his. My clumsy fingers fumbled with his shirt, sending buttons scattering across the floor. I was like a survivor clinging to the last piece of driftwood in a storm, desperate for an escape, for a release. All the pent-up emotion, all the years of silent longing, I poured them out onto his skin, my mouth finding every inch of him as he let out muffled, guttural groans. My friend Lucy once told me that in bed, a man thinks with only one part of his body. She was right. As my movements grew bolder, more desperate, Ian stopped trying to curse me. The only sounds from him now were those deep, continuous groans. When it was over, his face was flushed, a look of profound humiliation in his eyes. I couldn’t stand to see it. I threw on my clothes and headed for the bathroom. As I was about to leave, his voice, raw and strained, stopped me. “Emma!” I turned. “What?” His eyes were red with fury. “If you’ve got any guts, you’ll let me go.” I froze for a second, then a bitter, careless smile touched my lips. “Oh, I’ll let you go,” I said. “Just not yet.” 3 After my shower, I had intended to go back to my own room. But the memory of Ian’s abs, rock-solid beneath my touch, pulled me back. I returned to the guest room. He was still awake, staring at the ceiling like a frog about to be dissected. The moment I walked in, he started again, his voice laced with venom. “Untie me!” I shook my head. “No.” “Have you no shame?” “What do you possibly gain from doing this?” “Didn’t your mother ever teach you to have some self-respect?” He knew that would hit a nerve. He was being deliberately cruel. My lips pressed into a thin line. I said nothing, just walked silently to the bed. I kicked off my slippers, climbed onto the mattress, and straddled him. He scowled, about to launch into another tirade, but I covered his mouth with my hand. “You shut up and listen to me,” I said, my voice low. “I’ve known you for eleven years, and I’ve loved you for ten. I’ve tried to give up, but I can’t. I’m not willing to.” “I know you don’t like me. They say the one who loves is the one who has to be brave, so I’m being brave.” “I’m going to have you. And there’s not a damn thing you can do to stop me!” With that, my eyes burning with unshed tears, I leaned down and kissed him again. Ian’s lips were thin and cool, with a faint taste of mint. I was already exhausted, but I could feel a distinct change in him, a response he couldn’t hide. I pulled back and looked at his face, a triumphant, wicked smile spreading across mine. “Still pretending to be the cool, untouchable CEO? You’re not so different from any other man, are you?” Throughout it all, the sounds Ian made left my face burning, but filled me with a deep, forbidden satisfaction. The next time I opened my eyes, Ian was already awake. To my relief, his expression wasn’t one of pure, violated humiliation anymore. When he saw me stir, he spoke, his voice hoarse. “Untie me.” “No.” He let out a sigh of exasperation and switched tactics. “Emma, what’s gotten into you? How long are you planning on keeping me here?” I counted on my fingers and then held up a number. “Seven days.” Ian was speechless. “Why are you doing this?” “No reason,” I said calmly, pulling on a robe as I got out of bed. “I just decided I’m going to spend seven days with you.” I expected him to explode, but instead, a dark, humorless smile twisted his lips. “This is illegal confinement, Emma. You know how much I have to do every day, how many people need to reach me. If I just vanish, do you really think you can keep me here for a week?” I stood frozen beside the bed. He was right. He was a grown man. If he truly resisted, how long could I possibly hold him? “Emma, let me go. I promise I won’t leave.” I stared at him for a few seconds, then stubbornly shook my head. “I don’t believe you.” “Emma, I have extremely important work to do. You can stay by my side, but you have to let me out of here.” He thought he’d offered a compromise I couldn’t refuse. But I rejected it without a second thought. “Until the police break down my door,” I said, my voice unyielding, “you’re staying right here.” Ian knew it was useless. His dark eyes scanned me from head to toe, a long, searching look. Then, to my utter shock, he relented. “If you keep me tied up like this for seven days, my hands and feet will be useless. Is that what you want?” “No.” “But I have no other choice. I can’t overpower you, and I can’t stop you from leaving. I’m sorry to have to do this to you.” “Emma,” he said, his voice deadly serious now. “I swear on my grandmother’s memory, I will not leave this house for seven days.” Ian’s grandmother. I knew how much she meant to him. I knew how genuinely kind she had been to me. When she passed away, Ian and I had huddled in a corner together, crying our eyes out. It was the first time I had ever seen him cry. “You need me to cooperate,” he continued, his tone reasonable. “Otherwise, it’s very likely your door will be broken down by this afternoon.” His voice was sincere. I knew he was telling the truth. The CEO of Sterling Corporation goes missing? It would be a major news story. I wanted to keep him here, but I didn’t want to die with a criminal record. I could already imagine the sleazy, sensational headlines the media would write. I gave in. I tossed his clothes to him and then, one by one, untied the knots. He gritted his teeth as he flexed his stiff hands, his voice dripping with scorn. “I never realized you were such a psycho.” My face was a mask. “There’s a lot you’ve never realized.” His eyes fell on the chaotic pile of silk ties on the floor. He looked back at me, incredulous. “Where did you get so many of these?” “I’d see one I thought would look good on you, and I’d buy it. Before I knew it, I had a whole collection.” At least they hadn’t gone to waste. They’d finally been used on him, after all. “Why didn’t you ever give them to me?” I let out a short, bitter laugh. “I’m not in the habit of throwing myself at someone who gives me the cold shoulder.” Ian’s expression turned cold. “So you decided to just take what you wanted by force?” A hot blush spread from my face all the way down to my toes. In the heat of my madness, I hadn’t cared about the consequences. But hearing him say it out loud, I was suddenly flooded with shame. To get a man, I had to resort to tying him up. But the feeling passed quickly. I told myself it was worth it. At least I’d done something this crazy once in my life. 4 Ian was true to his word. Once I freed him, he didn’t try to force his way out. He just asked for my laptop. “Are you going to email Liam for help?” He gave me a look you’d give a complete idiot. “Are you dense? If I wanted to leave, would I need to call someone?” It wasn’t that I was dense. It was that my brain was literally failing me. I gave him the computer. I’d already quit my job, so it was no use to me. Ian sat on the balcony, dealing with work, while I curled up on the living room sofa and just watched him. The sunlight streamed in at a perfect angle, creating a fleeting illusion of domestic bliss. An illusion I had stolen. The afternoon sun was bright, and as I watched him, a wave of drowsiness washed over me. I fought to stay awake, but my consciousness slipped away. When I opened my eyes again, Ian was gone. I shot up, my bare feet cold against the floor as I frantically searched the apartment. My heart was in my throat until I threw open the bathroom door. It dropped back into my chest, but the moment I saw him, my sanity checked out. I launched myself at him. I had no technique, only a desperate need to leave my mark, my mouth hungry and wild. A frantic deer was trapped in my chest, crashing against my ribs. I clung to him like an octopus, terrified he would push me away. Through the haze, I heard Ian let out a resigned sigh. Then, a strong arm wrapped around me, lifting me up. “You’re a maniac,” he murmured against my skin. “But I like it.” Like what? Before I could process it, his teeth grazed my neck, and suddenly, the tables had turned. I was beginning to believe what Lucy had told me. For men, loving and doing are two completely different things. Afterward, as the heady lust faded, Ian leaned against the headboard and studied me. “Emma, I’m seriously starting to wonder if you’ve been possessed by some kind of demon.” After all the years we’d known each other, it wasn’t strange for him to be suspicious. I was acting completely out of character. “You’re right,” I said, nodding seriously. “A succubus.” Ian’s eyes narrowed. “And why didn’t this succubus go after someone else?” I tilted my head, pretending to think. “Probably because you were the easiest target around.” I picked up my phone to order food, but Ian’s hand shot out and stopped me. “What? You lure me here with a home-cooked meal, have your way with me, and now you’re just going to fob me off with takeout?” I couldn’t be bothered to argue. Half an hour later, the delivery driver knocked on the door. Ian watched as I took the yellow paper bag, his pupils contracting sharply. When I pulled out a small, square box of pills from inside, he finally snapped. He lunged forward, his fingers clamping around my chin. “Emma! What the hell are you doing? You’re taking that?” “What,” I said, the word a struggle, “did you want me to give you an heir to the Sterling fortune?” Rage contorted his features, his whole body radiating fury. His grip tightened. “You have the audacity to do all this, but you’re afraid of having a baby?” “You’re hurting me!” I wrenched myself free from his grasp, knowing I had truly pushed him too far. So I concocted a plausible lie. “Of course I’d want to have your baby. It’s just… I suddenly remembered I took a bunch of antibiotics for a cold a few days ago.” I frowned, looking at him. “What? Did you want me to have a child just to blackmail you with it?” Ian looked away, his voice icy. “In your dreams, you greedy, insatiable woman.” “Ian, you’re never like this with me! Yes, I forced you, but if you truly didn’t want it, I couldn’t have forced you!” He was furious. I thought he would storm out right then and there. But he just slammed the guest room door with a deafening bang. Huh. A man of his word. It almost made me feel guilty.

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I’ve never been one for beating around the bush. So when I found the string of fiery texts between my firefighter fiancé, Nate, and some girl I’d never heard of, I didn’t fall apart. I didn’t scream. I just handed him his phone and waited, my face perfectly calm, for an answer. The silence in our apartment stretched until it was thin enough to snap. Finally, he spoke, his voice raspy. “She’s a girl I rescued from a fire. She’s… going through some things. I’ll admit, for a second, I felt something.” “But Ava,” he pleaded, “we’re high school sweethearts. We made it this far. I swear to you, I’ll cut it off. Clean break.” I stared into Nate’s eyes, so full of earnest desperation, and pushed down the sharp, twisting pain in my chest. I nodded. The wedding was still on. I had no idea how quickly that promise would turn to ash. On our wedding day, one of his fellow firefighters, Ben, burst through the chapel doors like a human cannonball. “Nate! It’s Maya! She found out you’re getting married! She’s on a roof downtown, says she’s gonna jump!” The diamond ring, the one he was about to slip onto my finger, hovered in the space between us. Then it fell. The clink it made against the polished floor was the loudest sound I’d ever heard. Nate was a blur, a lightning strike bolting for the door. I stared at his back, my eyes burning so hot I thought they might bleed. I pulled every ounce of air into my lungs and screamed. “Nate, if you walk out that door right now, we are done! Do you hear me? We are over!” He paused for a fraction of a second—a flicker of hesitation. He didn’t even turn around. And then, he was gone. The vow he’d made to me had become a joke, and I was the punchline. … The wedding devolved into a grotesque circus. The whispers of our guests were a thousand tiny needles in my ears, a high-pitched hum of pity and speculation. Our parents rushed to my side, their faces masks of confusion and panic. Nate’s teammate, Ben, just stood there, his face the color of raw liver, wringing his hands. “Ava… I’m so sorry. It’s just… Maya, she has severe depression. Nate saved her life before… and she’s latched onto him. She says he’s the only one who can talk her down. It’s a life-or-death thing, he didn’t have a choice. Please don’t be mad at him…” Ben had been Nate’s shadow for three years. He used to greet me with a wide, easy grin, calling me “sis” like we were already family. Now, he couldn’t even meet my eyes. I wondered how many of Nate’s dirty little secrets Ben had helped him hide. How many late-night calls from Maya had he helped cover up? A suffocating pain bloomed in my chest, and for the first time, I truly understood the taste of betrayal. My parents gripped my hands, their own voices tight with unshed tears. “What is going on? He’s on leave for his own wedding! Who in God’s name needs to be rescued by him right now?” Nate’s parents stood nearby, his mother frantically dialing his phone over and over, muttering through gritted teeth, “You just wait, Ava, honey. I’m going to make that son of mine crawl back here. If he doesn’t, I swear I’ll have his hide!” The fallen diamond ring was kicked around by shuffling feet on the red aisle runner, rolling further and further away, just like my heart, which had been stomped into the ground. I stood frozen in my white dress, the train pooling around my feet like a heavy, rain-soaked cloud. I had imagined my wedding day a million times. Not once did I imagine this: a pathetic one-act play where the groom abandons his bride at the altar for another woman. For five agonizing hours, I called Nate 108 times. He didn’t answer once. I watched my phone screen light up and go dark, light up and go dark, until the battery finally died, leaving me with a silent, black rectangle. The late afternoon sun streamed through the stained-glass windows of the church, casting a mottled patch of light on my empty ring finger. The light should have been warm, but it felt colder than ice. The guests trickled away, leaving behind a battlefield of wilting flowers and half-eaten cake. Suddenly, the world began to spin, the church dissolving into a massive vortex. The last thing I heard before the blackness swallowed me was my mother’s ragged, terrified scream. 1 I woke up in a hospital. The sterile, cold scent of antiseptic filled my nose. A nurse was changing my IV bag. Seeing my eyes open, she spoke in a soft voice. “You need to take it easy now. You’re watching out for two people. No more stress. You have to take care of yourself.” Two people? I stared at the stark white ceiling as a single, silent tear escaped and traced a cold path into my hair. I was seventeen when Nate stuffed a crumpled love note into my locker, so nervous he practically tripped over his own feet. In college, we were long-distance. He once drove his clunker of a car for twenty hours straight through three states, just to surprise me for my birthday. The day he graduated from the fire academy, he held me tight, his eyes red with emotion. “My job is to run into fires for strangers,” he’d said. “Imagine what I’d do for you.” Seven years. The memories flashed through my mind like a movie on fast-forward. I looked at the barely concealed joy on my parents’ faces, and on Nate’s parents’ faces, and forced a smile that felt more painful than crying. How could I tell them? I was pregnant with the child of the man I’d loved for seven years, but our story was over. At seven o’clock that evening, after being gone for six hours, Nate finally showed up. He was pale, and he looked at me with just the right amount of guilt in his eyes. “Ava, I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice like sandpaper. “Maya… I couldn’t just let her die. It’s my duty.” My throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton. I swallowed the bitterness and asked, my voice cold, “Are you the only firefighter in the entire city? Did they all die today?” “She doesn’t jump yesterday, she doesn’t jump tomorrow. She picks our wedding day, and you’re the only one who can save her. What kind of game do you think she’s playing, Nate? Do you really think I’m that stupid?” He fell silent. After a long moment, he took my hand. It was freezing. His voice was tight. “Ava, in seven years, I have never asked you for anything. Not really. But I’m asking you now. Please, don’t make a big deal out of this. Don’t let it get back to Maya. With her condition… she can’t handle that kind of stress.” I stared at the plea in his eyes, and my heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible fist, the pain so sharp I couldn’t breathe. He should be apologizing to me, not asking for favors. A person’s first instinct doesn’t lie. He never once thought about how humiliated I was, left alone at our wedding. He never considered why I would have collapsed, why I was in a hospital. The first words out of his mouth, the first thoughts in his head, were all for another woman. Tears fell like broken pearls, hitting the white hospital blanket and blooming into small, dark stains. It took all the strength I had to force out a single word. “Fine.” He let out a breath, the relief on his face so obvious it was like a slap. Then, he delivered an even crueler blow. “Maya’s really unstable because of the wedding. I think… I think we should postpone it for a little while.” “I need to be there for her, through her treatment. Once she’s in a better place… maybe three months. Just three months, and we’ll have the ceremony then, okay?” His voice was a careful, gentle probe. I’d waited seven years. What was three more months? But looking into his eyes, so full of worry for someone else, I suddenly knew. I couldn’t wait another day, let alone three months. The tiny life inside me seemed to sense my despair, giving a faint, fluttery twitch. I placed a hand on my stomach. A six-week-old life. It was once the product of our love. Now, it felt like it was mine alone. I slowly pulled my hand from his grip. My voice was as still and dead as a stagnant pond. “Nate.” “My memory isn’t what it used to be. But I remember being seventeen, and you being too nervous to walk straight after you gave me that note.” “I remember the first time you held my hand, your palm was sweating so much. We walked for three blocks and you never let go.” “I remember when we graduated college, you held me and promised you’d take care of me forever, that you’d make me the happiest bride in the world.” “All these years… you remembered I hate onions, that I need hot tea during my period, all my little quirks… I really thought you loved me more than life itself.” I lifted my head and looked him straight in the eye, the dam finally breaking. “But today, Nate. Today, I can’t feel your love at all. Not a single drop.” The weight of seven years washed over us. Nate’s eyes reddened, his throat worked, and a single tear fell from his eye. “But Ava,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Right now… Maya can’t be without me.” She can’t be without me. The words were a sledgehammer, shattering the last fragile piece of hope in my heart. I looked at him and suddenly, I laughed. And as I laughed, the tears flowed even faster. “Then go be with her.” He froze, as if he couldn’t believe I’d let him go so easily. But in the end, he didn’t say another word. He just turned, and walked out of my life without a backward glance. 2 The next day, I checked myself out of the hospital. As I rounded a corner in the hallway, I ran right into Nate. He didn’t even see me at first. All his attention, all his tenderness, was focused on the girl at his side. She wore an oversized hospital gown, her face a ghostly white. He was holding her up, half-supporting, half-embracing her, like she was a porcelain doll that might shatter at any moment. So this was Maya. This was the woman who could make him abandon me at the altar. Perhaps my stare was too cold, because she saw me first. She flinched like a startled rabbit, instinctively hiding behind Nate and clutching at the fabric of his jacket. Only then did Nate look up. His brow furrowed instantly, his tone dripping with unconcealed annoyance. “Ava, what are you doing here? Maya’s just starting to stabilize. Whatever it is, we can talk about it at home. Don’t make a scene at the hospital, you’ll scare her.” Maya peeked out from behind him, her voice as thin as a mosquito’s buzz. “Ava… it’s really not like that between Nate and me… Please don’t misunderstand.” I clutched the ultrasound report in my hand, my knuckles turning white. But I managed a faint, cool smile. “You’re overthinking it. I’m just here to sign my discharge papers.” Without another glance at them, I turned and walked away. A strange look flickered across Nate’s face, as if my calmness had unsettled him, leaving an unexpected void in his chest. He reflexively reached out to grab my arm. I stopped and my gaze landed on a smudge on his coat—it looked like makeup. His eyes followed mine. He glanced down at the stain, then started to take off his coat to offer it to me. I sidestepped him. He stood there, stunned for a moment, then hurried after me, reaching for the coat I was now holding. “Let me take that. It’s your favorite, isn’t it? I’ll get it cleaned for you.” I shook my head, not even looking at him. I walked over to the nearby trash can and dropped the coat inside. My voice was as bland as if I were commenting on the weather. “I don’t want it anymore. It’s stained. You know how I am about stains. I have a thing about cleanliness.” The expression on Nate’s face froze. He knew I wasn’t just talking about the coat. I was talking about us. He opened his mouth to say something else, but I was already gone. As I walked out of the hospital, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Nate. [Don’t be mad. I ordered that Napoleon cake you love from the bakery downtown. It’s on its way.] When the delivery arrived at my apartment, I stared at the familiar pink box and felt a bitter laugh rise in my throat. This was his go-to move. Every time he screwed up, he’d use this cake to smooth things over. It always worked. I mechanically scooped a bite into my mouth. The cake that used to be a decadent, sugary treat now tasted of nothing but ash. Nate didn’t come home that night. Tearing a seven-year relationship out of my life was more painful than I ever could have imagined. I didn’t sleep a wink. In the pre-dawn hours, I got up and started packing. The matching hoodies hanging side-by-side in the closet. The framed photos of us on the bookshelf. The little notes he left on the fridge. Every object was a knife, twisted with memories, stabbing me in the heart. I remembered the year we graduated. Nate had just joined the fire department and was working insane hours. But he’d used his first precious day off to see me, his eyes shining like they held constellations. “Ava,” he’d said, “as soon as I save up for a down payment, we’re getting married.” Three years later, he was on one knee, holding out a deed and a diamond ring, his voice trembling. “I did it. I promised you a home, and I keep my promises.” The sun was bright that day. I cried in his arms for what felt like hours, feeling like the luckiest person on earth. We painted the walls ourselves, struggled to assemble IKEA furniture, and filled the balcony with sunflowers, my favorite. He said he wanted to make sure the sun would always shine in our home. But now, there was no longer a place for me in this home. As I taped up the last box, the sun was rising. The moving truck I’d called had just pulled up downstairs when both sets of our parents arrived. I didn’t say anything. They still couldn’t understand how two people who were about to get married two days ago were now tearing their lives apart. My mom and dad just sighed, telling me, “If you want to come home, just come home.” But Nate’s mom grabbed my hand, refusing to let go. “Ava, please, just give him one more chance. What happened at the wedding… he was just confused for a moment. He loves you, I know he does…” I remained silent, simply motioning for the movers to continue. Just as his mom’s voice was growing hoarse from pleading, the front door opened. Nate was back. And he wasn’t alone. He had brought Maya into our home. She was wearing his jacket, clinging to his arm like a timid kitten. The air in the room instantly turned to ice. Every pair of eyes was fixed on them. Nate’s mother’s voice trembled. “Nate… did you… did you really do something to hurt Ava?” His father was shaking with rage. “Who is this girl?!” Nate didn’t answer. His eyes swept over the nearly empty living room, finally landing on me. “You’re moving out?” “Yeah,” I said calmly. “Back to my parents’.” He seemed to relax a little. “That’s probably for the best. I’ll come get you before the new wedding date.” He said it so casually. Then he stepped aside, pulling Maya in front of him. “This is Maya. She’s a patient with depression I rescued on a call. The department asked me to look after her for a while to help her stabilize.” His explanation was so matter-of-fact, it made all of our outrage seem petty and small-minded. Maya immediately offered a sweet smile and reached out to take his mother’s arm. “It’s so nice to meet you. Nate takes such good care of me. He even said he’d bring me home for dinner tonight. Since everyone’s here, why don’t I cook? You can all taste my cooking.” Nate’s mom looked at me, her expression pained. “Ava, maybe… maybe we should all just sit down and talk this through?” I was about to refuse when Maya turned to me, a glint of something sharp and provocative in her eyes. “You should stay too, Ava. The more the merrier, right?” CRACK. The sharp, clean sound of a slap echoed through the silent room. My eyes flew open in shock. It was my mother. She had slapped Maya across the face. “Mom!” I cried out instinctively. My mom turned to me, her eyes red, her voice shaking violently. “You are my daughter. Do you think I don’t know you?” “You’ve been with him since you were seventeen. You’re twenty-four now. Seven whole years! You quit that amazing job at the design firm for him, stayed home to play house for him, learned to cook his favorite meals, you even know which damn drawer he keeps his stinking socks in! Do you think you would be walking out today if your heart wasn’t completely shattered?” “I don’t need my daughter to marry a rich man, but I will not stand by while he brings another woman into your home to humiliate you. I will not tolerate it!” “If you won’t stand up for yourself, then I’ll do it for you!” My mother’s words hit me like a bolt of lightning, and my eyes instantly burned with hot tears. Maya clutched her cheek, tears welling in her eyes, but she didn’t dare make a sound. Nate immediately shielded her, his face dark enough to storm. “Ava! How old are you? Still running home to mommy and tattling…” I didn’t let him finish. I lunged forward and, with all the strength I had, I slapped him too. “Nate, you’re the one who deserves to be hit!” After I hit him, I grabbed the piece of paper from the coffee table drawer and threw it in his face—the still-warm ultrasound report.

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My sister ran a red light, and our car was T-boned by a cement mixer. My right leg, in the passenger seat, was crushed into a pulp. My sister, Jessica, emerged without a scratch. She left me trapped in the wreckage, scrambled out of the car, and immediately started posting on social media. In a car crash. My sister is seriously hurt. What do I do? Why am I so stupid? I wish I could take all her pain. Goodbye, cruel world. In the comments, my parents rushed to console her. Dad: What kind of sister is Vivian? Useless. Don’t be scared, sweetie. Dad is on his way. Mom: Jessie, baby, answer your phone! Don’t worry mommy! This is Vivian’s fate, it has nothing to do with my precious girl. Blood pooled around me, my heart growing as cold as my body. Just before I passed out, my fiancé, Ethan, called. His voice was terrifyingly grim. “Where is Jessica?” 1 “Jessie… help me…” I was pinned inside the mangled car, unable to move. I weakly reached a hand toward my sister, begging for help. But Jessica was standing in a safe spot a few feet away, her face a mask of remorse as she frantically typed on her phone. With every pint of blood I lost, I could feel my life slipping away. A heavy exhaustion washed over me, the crushing pain in my leg dulling into a distant throb. A phone rang from under the seat, jolting me back to consciousness. It was Ethan’s custom ringtone. A spark of hope ignited in my chest. Fighting the urge to sleep, I fumbled around until my fingers closed around my phone. “Ethan, help me… my leg…” “Tell me where you are!” he demanded, his voice strained with panic. I was touched by his urgency. But before I could answer, a wave of metallic-tasting blood surged up my throat. I didn’t want him to worry, so I covered the mouthpiece, forcing the blood back down. As I was about to speak, his voice came through again, laced with venom. “Vivian, now is not the time for your princess tantrums! If something happens to Jessie, I will make you pay with your life!” I froze. He wasn’t worried about me. He was worried about Jessica. I looked at my sister, unharmed and crying for her social media audience. Then I looked down at my own mangled, bloody leg. A bitter, self-mocking smile touched my lips. The pain in my heart was worse than any physical agony. “Southbridge intersection,” I managed to say. On the other end, I heard the squeal of tires. “Vivian,” he threatened, just before hanging up, “you better pray Jessica doesn’t do something stupid.” Tears I didn’t know I had left streamed down my face, soaking my blood-stained clothes. The blood was hot, but my heart felt like it had been plunged into ice water, leaving me shivering. I heard the shouts of passersby. “There’s still someone in the car! Help her! Call 911!” Ethan was the first to arrive. He shoved aside the well-meaning people trying to pry open the crushed door. His eyes landed on my face, which was so caked in blood I was unrecognizable. He frantically pushed the matted hair from my eyes, his voice desperate. “Jessie, it’s okay, I’m here to save you.” I had never seen such raw fear and concern on his face before. I managed a weak, mocking smile as he finally recognized me. “Ethan, it’s just me. Disappointed?” Shock and embarrassment flashed across his face. He frowned, his eyes quickly scanning my broken body. “Vivian, are you okay?” I held back the lump in my throat and laughed. “I’m fine. Just dying.” His expression was complicated. “Don’t talk nonsense. I’ll get you out.” But before he could move, my sister ran over and threw herself into his arms. “Ethan! I was so scared! I almost died!” she wailed. He instantly forgot about me, his face softening with overwhelming concern for Jessica. He stroked her back, his voice a low, soothing murmur. “Shh, Jessie, it’s okay. I’m here now. I won’t let anything hurt you.” 2 Jessica, still sobbing, pulled a small, folded yellow paper charm from her pocket. “It was the protective charm you gave me, Ethan! It saved me! You’re my hero!” She pressed the charm into his hand. “You should keep it. Let it protect you forever.” Ethan smiled, his expression full of adoration. He tapped her nose playfully. “It’s just a worthless piece of junk. You have a good heart, Jessie. That’s why fate wouldn’t let you get hurt.” He casually tossed the charm to the ground. It landed in a puddle of my blood, the ink on the paper smudging and blurring instantly. I stared at that charm. The charm I had gotten for him by making a pilgrimage to a remote mountain monastery, my forehead bruised and raw from kowtowing every few steps, my legs black and blue. I remembered giving it to him, how he’d held me tight and sworn he would cherish it forever, that he would never betray me. But that was before my parents came back from their trip two months ago, bringing Jessica with them. After that, Ethan changed. The vows were forgotten. The charm became a “worthless piece of junk.” He wasn’t disgusted by the charm. He was disgusted by the genuine love I had offered him. Watching the two of them, completely lost in their own world, felt like my heart was being physically ripped in two. One was the sister I had always cherished. The other was the man I had just gotten engaged to. When had they gotten together behind my back? I didn’t know. And I didn’t want to know anymore. 3 “If you’re not going to help, then get out of the way! This isn’t the time or place for a soap opera!” A burly man shoved Ethan aside and started rallying others to help pull at the jammed car door. But they weren’t professionals, and they were afraid of hurting me further. They could only stand by, making frantic calls. Jessica finally seemed to remember me. She bit her lip, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks. “Ethan, my sister’s hurt. It’s all my fault. Seeing her like this… my heart is breaking.” Ethan wrapped his arm around her shoulder, murmuring comforts. Even over the shouts of the crowd, I heard his words with perfect clarity. “Jessie, the only thing that matters is that you’re safe. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. As for Vivian… she brought this on herself. If it makes you feel better, I’ll save her. Then we can call it even.” “I’m so scared, Ethan,” Jessica sobbed, burying her face in his chest. He held her tighter, completely consumed with comforting her. “It’s over now, Jessie. Don’t dwell on it. Just be happy.” My heart, which I thought was already numb, gave a violent, agonizing twist that left me breathless. I couldn’t cry anymore. All my tears had turned to blood, pouring out of me. In the distance, my parents came running, shouting, “Baby! Our baby, Mom and Dad are here!” My vision was blurring, but seeing them gave me a flicker of warmth. At least I still had my parents. I tried to lift a trembling hand towards them, my voice a broken whisper. “Dad, Mom… it hurts so much…” 4 But their eyes scanned the scene and locked onto Ethan and Jessica. They immediately changed direction. “Jessie! You scared Mommy to death! Are you hurt anywhere?” my mother cried, frantically checking Jessica from head to toe. My father, seeing Jessica was unharmed, let his worry morph into rage. “Where is that useless Vivian? I want to know how she dares call herself a sister when she can’t even protect her own flesh and blood!” Jessica’s eyes welled up. “Dad, it wasn’t her fault, it was me…” “Stop covering for her, Jessie! You’ve been doing it your whole life. Every time she messes up, you’re the one apologizing for her. This time she almost got you killed! She has the heart of a snake!” my mother spat, her voice dripping with venom when she spoke of me. My father snorted. “I’m calling a press conference. That thing doesn’t deserve to be my daughter. I’m disowning her. From now on, the Jiang family has only one daughter, and her name is Jessica.” He clapped Ethan on the shoulder. “Ethan, you’re a good kid. Vivian doesn’t deserve you. I’ll make a statement clarifying that your engagement to her was a misunderstanding. Your real fiancée is my darling Jessie.” Ethan hesitated, glancing in my direction, as if about to speak up for me. A flash of triumph appeared in Jessica’s eyes before she hid it behind a mask of anguish. She cut Ethan off, grabbing my father’s sleeve. “Dad, sister is still in the car! I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault!” My father’s gaze finally shifted to the wrecked car. He strode over, his face livid. “Vivian! We have a crisis here and you’re just sitting in the car waiting to die? Get the hell out here!” His words died in his throat when he saw my bloody, swollen face. My mother stared, frozen in shock. I had no strength left to speak. I could only look at them, hoping for a single word of comfort. Jessica rushed over, and after a quick, triumphant glance at me, burst into tears for our parents. “Dad, Mom, her leg is trapped! I’m sorry, it was my careless driving that did this to her! I’m so useless! It should have been me!” My mother, whose face had softened for a moment, immediately wrapped her arms around Jessica. “Don’t you dare say that, Jessie! This is Vivian’s fate! If anything happened to you, Mommy couldn’t live anymore!” “She’s right,” my father added. “You’ve taken the blame for your sister for years. This is karma. I know you’re upset, Jessie, but don’t say such things again.” Jessica just sobbed hysterically. The three of them panicked, trying to console her. My father shot me a dismissive look. “Jessie didn’t do it on purpose. You’re the older sister, you should be more forgiving. Don’t hold a grudge.”

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I had been in love with Samuel for years. Then one day, I suddenly asked him to leave, and he simply gave a quiet nod. For many years after, we never saw each other again. Not until I was diagnosed with terminal cancer, my death sentence signed and sealed. I decided to hire a hospice care specialist to help me arrange my final affairs. The man who knocked on my door was holding a beautifully polished wooden urn. It was Samuel. He stood in the doorway, and his eyes met mine. 1. His eyes were as calm and distant as I remembered. A young, fresh-faced boy stood just behind him. Samuel glanced at me with a look of professional compassion, the kind reserved for strangers. “Good morning,” he said, his voice gentle. “My name is Samuel Thorne, from the palliative care agency.” He didn’t recognize me. Not at all. Before the shock could even register, I found myself moving aside stiffly. “Please, come in.” He sat down and placed the wooden box gently on the coffee table, opening the lid. Inside lay several urns of different materials, each one looking exquisitely expensive. “These are our samples. You can choose based on your preference,” he explained, his tone detached. “The materials vary, as do the price and symbolism.” I curled into the sofa, digging my nails into my palms. The tiny flares of pain were the only thing keeping me grounded. He pulled out a tablet and brought up a form. “Next, we’ll need to confirm some of your specific wishes regarding the scale of the funeral service…” I listened, a dull roar filling my head. His voice was still so beautiful, but now, every syllable was a tick of the clock, counting down the last moments of my life. Finally, he asked, “And lastly, is there anything you’d like to have inscribed on your headstone?” A wave of regret washed over me. “Can I request someone else?” The words hung in the air, and the living room fell into a dead silence. Samuel’s thin lips parted as if to speak, but the sound caught in his throat. The young boy beside him looked at me, bewildered and indignant. “My mentor is the most respected hospice specialist in the entire city! You’re lucky you got him. This is his last case before he goes on leave.” “After this,” the boy added, “he’s going back to his hometown to get married.” Hometown… to get married? My heart dropped like a stone, a sudden, sickening plunge into nothingness. A cold, metallic tang of rust and sorrow flooded the back of my throat. Ah. So that was it. He had moved on. He had a better life now. My ridiculous, hopeful little test just moments ago now seemed utterly pathetic. I turned my head, unable to meet Samuel’s gaze. “Is that so…” I forced a smile that felt more painful than crying. “Well… then… congratulations. That’s wonderful.” Samuel remained silent, his eyes fixed on me. The profound grief in his gaze was so heavy it threatened to drown me. “Ms. Quinn.” A cold sweat broke out on my skin. “How do you know my name?” He looked at me, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. “The information you provided to our agency last month only included your name. Clara Quinn, correct?” It hit me then. I had changed my name shortly after breaking up with him. It seemed the illness was stealing my memory along with everything else. 2. In the end, I agreed to let him be my caregiver. He had a home to return to, and I had a grave to prepare for. After a round of chemo, I was leaving the hospital when I ran into him in the hallway. “Ms. Quinn,” he began, his voice deeper and huskier than usual. “It would be better if you called me for future treatments.” He paused, as if needing to justify the sudden offer. “It’s part of my professional duties.” Those words, “professional duties,” were tiny needles against my already numb nerves. I managed a weak smile. “I don’t think that will be necessary. This was my second-to-last treatment.” “After the next one…” After the next one, it would be the end. “I won’t be coming back to the hospital.” The sentence hung in the air, light and final. I felt the arm that had been supporting me suddenly tighten, the grip so strong it was almost painful. “I thought you’d try to comfort me,” I said with a self-deprecating laugh. “Aren’t you hospice specialists supposed to be experts at managing the emotions of the dying?” Samuel let out a slow breath. “Your emotional state appears to be stable at the moment.” He was right. Death was my foregone conclusion. I had no choice but to face it. My physical condition began to deteriorate rapidly, my body withering into someone even I barely recognized. But the fact that he didn’t recognize me… that was a small mercy. It became the single point of solace in my landscape of pain. Looking at him, a huge, almost frantic wave of longing crashed over me. My throat was painfully dry. “Mr. Thorne… could I ask you to… to stay here for a while?” “I’m so sorry,” I whispered, dropping my gaze. “But I can’t even lift a glass of water on my own anymore.” The silence stretched, thick and heavy. After a long moment, I heard him release a sigh, so quiet and so profound it seemed to carry the weight of the world. “…Alright.” 3. Samuel moved into the guest room next to my bedroom. His presence was like a quiet shadow, filling the vast, empty house that had previously only echoed with the sound of my own coughing. Every morning, I would wake to a fresh wave of pain. And every morning, he would appear at my side just in time, his arm sliding steadily under mine to help me sit up, arranging the pillows behind my back. He moved with a practiced ease that felt anything but new, as if he had done this a thousand times before. On sunny afternoons, Samuel would help me to the lounge chair on the balcony, tucking a warm blanket snugly around me. He would tidy up nearby or simply sit with a book, a silent companion. Sometimes, in the hazy twilight between consciousness and the drug-induced stupor, I would secretly open my eyes to watch him. The profile of his face was still so sharp and handsome, the sunlight gilding his features with a soft, golden halo. His fingers, long and clean, turned the pages of his book. Once, those same hands had wiped away my tears. The memories, like reefs exposed by a receding tide, emerged with painful clarity. I remembered a rough patch early in our relationship. I had convinced myself that I had forced him into it, that he didn’t truly love me. He was always so reserved, so calm in everything he did for me. I felt unbearably wronged, yet I knew I had no right to be. One night, I ran out of our apartment in tears. He was the one who found me. He didn’t say a word. He just took off his jacket, draped it over my shoulders, and then crouched down with his back to me. “Get on,” he said, his voice muffled. I stubbornly refused. He sighed and looked back at me. “It’s late. We can argue at home.” In that instant, all my anger and hurt simply evaporated. I climbed onto his broad back, my cheek pressed against his sweat-dampened shirt. He carried me all the way home, step by steady step, without another word. And yet, that was the closest I ever felt to him. Just like now. He was still a man of few words, quietly taking care of everything. He would gently wipe the sweat from my neck, massage my swollen calves, and bring me warm water and painkillers when the pain made me curl into a ball. In those moments, a dangerous illusion would sometimes take hold. It was easy to pretend that he was just a young husband who didn’t know how to express his love, and that I was not a woman on the verge of death. The warm light from the window fell on his downcast lashes. I closed my eyes, allowing myself to be enveloped by this treacherous fantasy. Just for a little while. Let me steal just this one moment. 4. The day of my final chemotherapy session arrived. Samuel placed the pills in my hand. I swallowed them, avoiding his gaze. “Today… I can go by myself.” The air grew still. His calm eyes rested on my face, as if he had expected me to say this. The final treatment always brought the most violent reactions. Vomiting, fainting, a complete loss of control… I didn’t want him to see me like that. I wanted to hold onto that last shred of dignity I had managed to maintain. He was silent for a long time before giving a barely audible reply. “Alright.” At the hospital, the sterile, suffocating scent of antiseptic was more overwhelming than ever. As my consciousness began to blur, I bit down hard on my lip, fighting the rising nausea. Suddenly, I felt a hand close around mine. My eyes flew open. Samuel was standing by my bed. He wasn’t looking at me; his gaze was fixed on the IV bag dripping fluid into my arm. In his silent presence, all my weakness, all my frailty, was laid bare. On the way back, I was so exhausted I could barely move. I leaned back in the seat with my eyes closed, too weak to even speak. He, too, was silent for the entire ride. When the car finally stopped in front of the house, he got out, came around to my side, and gently lifted me into his arms. The dining table was covered with food. They were all my old favorites. I froze, gripping the doorframe, and stared at him as he took off his coat. He turned and met my incredulous gaze without a hint of surprise. “Sit down and have a little. It’s okay to break the rules just this once.” How… how could he know? My heart leaped, and a powerful sense of dread washed over me. He saw the shock and confusion in my eyes and didn’t look away. Then, he finally met my gaze directly, his voice low and clear, each word deliberate. “You haven’t changed a bit.” “Clara Rhodes,” he said, my old name a tremor on his lips, heavy with exhaustion. 5. The sound of my name, spoken from his lips. In that instant, the carefully constructed facade I had maintained for so long shattered into a million pieces. He knew. He had known all along. A wave of profound shame washed over me, corrosive and sickening. It was followed by a surge of furious grief, the feeling of being watched in my most vulnerable state. How could he? How dare he, now, when I was at my absolute worst? I summoned every last ounce of my remaining strength, my right hand trembling as I lifted it and swung it toward his face. The sound was little more than a soft pat. The sensation of my palm against his cheek was barely a sting. His head didn’t even turn, and no red mark appeared. “Get…” The word was squeezed through my clenched teeth. “Out.” I don’t know why I reacted so violently. Perhaps it was because the memory of our past was so beautiful that it made my present reality all the more unbearable. Samuel just stood there, stunned. He looked into my eyes, his jawline tight. He didn’t argue, didn’t move. He just watched me. After a few seconds of dead silence, his Adam’s apple bobbed. “Alright.” I sagged against the doorframe, gasping for breath as black spots danced in my vision. By the time the storm of emotion subsided, the house was empty. He was gone. A colossal wave of panic crashed over me. What have I done? Acting on pure impulse, I forced my weak body to move, making my way to his agency. In the director’s office, I heard my own voice, shrill and sharp. “I want to file a complaint against Samuel Thorne… His service was completely unprofessional! I demand a new specialist immediately!” The director tried to placate me, but I was adamant. Soon, there was a knock, and Samuel walked in. His face was a calm mask, but his eyes were bloodshot. The director looked uneasily between us, about to mediate, when the office door was pushed open from the outside. An elegantly dressed woman burst in. Her eyes scanned the room and landed on me. “Ms. Quinn?” she asked, her tone overly familiar and urgent. She turned to Samuel. “Let me talk to her!” She hurried over to me, trying to take my hand. “Samuel is just too dedicated to his work. I’m sure we can communicate any needs you have…” Her words faded into a dull buzz in my ears. Samuel’s brow furrowed. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said in a low voice. His fiancée. It had to be her. I looked at this vibrant, healthy woman, then at my own reflection in the window—a gaunt, skeletal figure. An unprecedented wave of humiliation washed over me, and the world went dark. 6. When I came to, the first thing I heard was the sound of hushed voices outside the door. “…Sam, don’t worry too much. The doctor said it was just a temporary faint caused by emotional distress, and the fact that she’s so weak…” It was a woman’s voice, soft and soothing. “…I know.” Samuel’s voice was low and hoarse, laced with a bone-deep weariness he was trying to suppress. “But you shouldn’t have come. It only made things worse for her.” Their voices dropped lower, and I couldn’t make out the rest. I struggled to open my eyes, my blurry vision slowly coming into focus. “You’re awake?” I turned my head. It was Samuel’s young apprentice, Leo, peeling an apple. He looked uncomfortable when he saw me looking at him and awkwardly offered me the fruit. He avoided my eyes, his tone filled with a mixture of reluctance and resentment. “…I really don’t know why you’d say those things about my mentor. For this one last case, he stayed up so many nights doing research for you. He’s even delayed his own personal matters… his fiancée came all this way today to see him…” Leo was still mumbling his complaints, but my gaze drifted back to the doorway. Samuel had his head turned slightly, listening to what the woman was saying. She reached up and, with a natural, familiar gesture, straightened his tie, which hadn’t even been crooked. It was an intimate, possessive gesture. Just as I felt the last bit of thin air in my lungs about to give out, the door opened gently. The woman walked in, an apologetic look on her face. She gave Leo a pointed glance, and the boy immediately fell silent and scurried out of the room. Then, she turned to me, her voice so soft it was almost false. “Ms. Quinn, you’re awake. Are you feeling better? You gave us all quite a scare.” She paused, her eyes shifting subtly between me and Samuel’s silhouette in the doorway. “Sam and I have talked. I reminded him that no matter how important his work is, he can’t neglect his client’s feelings. If you really don’t want to see him, I can take over for the remainder of the time. It’s all the same.” She took a step closer, leaning in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “After all… you don’t have much time left. This is your final journey. You should be as comfortable as possible. Why cause yourself any more stress? Don’t you agree?” You don’t have much time left. A chill ran through me, but in the next second, the flicker of anger was smothered by a deeper exhaustion. What had I been hoping for? When I first heard he had a fiancée, a part of me refused to believe it. But now, with her standing right here in front of me… Wake up, Clara. What are you still hoping for? You should have understood the moment you got sick. You would only ever be a burden to him. He had finally escaped your shadow, built a normal life, a respectable career, and was about to marry a healthy, proper woman. You are a sinking ship. Are you really going to try and drag him down with you right before you go under? I looked into her eyes, and then past her, to the blurred figure in the doorway. A strange sense of calm settled over me. I closed my eyes very slowly. “Okay.”

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The day after I broke up with Jay, he came over while I was at work and packed up all his stuff. Everything except the cat he’d adopted with his ex-girlfriend. Online, they say that calico cats with those splotchy, unfortunate-looking orange patches are the absolute worst. I crouched down in front of the cat and tried to sound menacing. “Your deadbeat dad abandoned you,” I hissed. “I’m your evil stepmother now.” “You don’t listen to me, I’m shipping you off to Siberia.” “Someplace where you’ll have to row a boat for a hundred years just to get back.” That night, I felt something licking my hair. In my drowsy state, I thought I heard a tiny voice in my head. Stepmom, don’t ship cat away. Cat gets seasick. 1 I jolted awake, fumbling for the lamp switch. The cat was sitting on my pillow, and we stared at each other. “Leo, was that you talking?” “…” Silence. My heart rate settled. I looked at Leo’s big, innocent face and thought, what a vivid dream. I gave his head a little scratch and lay back down. A few minutes later, that damp feeling was back, along with a faint, whiny voice. Stepmom, why Daddy no want me? My eyes flew open. In the darkness, I could just make out a furry cat butt parked right in front of my face. “Leo?” The licking stopped. The air was still for a full minute, and then it started again. I was getting annoyed. “Leo, if you lick me one more time, Mommy’s going to get mad.” Cat giving Mommy a bath. “LEO!” 2 I was sure of it now. That was Leo’s voice. We were face-to-face again. Leo just looked sleepy. “Leo, can you talk?” He didn’t make a sound. I looked down, thinking to myself, Have I been so stressed lately that I’ve developed a split personality? The moment the thought crossed my mind, the familiar little voice piped up again. Stepmom, cat sleepy. I’d named him Leo. When Jay first brought him over, he confessed the cat was a relic from his last relationship. I didn’t say anything, just gave the cat a new name. Now, being able to hear his thoughts was a revelation. “Oh my god! Leo, Mommy can hear you!” Leo just blinked at me groggily. Stepmom, cat sleepy. I scooped him up and gave him a big squeeze. “Okay, okay, let’s sleep. I hope I can still hear you in the morning.” “And stop calling me Stepmom. I was just trying to scare you earlier. You’ve been with me since you were three months old. I’m your real mom.” He didn’t answer, just started purring. He was probably already asleep. 3 Leo wasn’t very old. I’d asked Jay about his age, but he’d been evasive. We only got an estimate from the vet when he went in to get neutered. He was about a year old now, but he was already a solid ten pounds, his face as round as a dinner plate. I remembered when I first met him. He was a tiny thing, maybe three months old. Jay had told me his ex never really liked cats. She’d just pretended to for the image, but she never took care of Leo, which is why he took him. Leo had been a scrawny little kitten. Now, the suction-cup bed on the window groaned under his weight. The next day was Saturday. I woke up unusually early and the first thing I did was look for Leo. Sure enough, he was sunbathing in his window perch. Hearing me move, he looked over, then trotted toward me. Stepmom, cat hungry. A huge grin spread across my face. Oh my god, I could actually hear my cat’s thoughts. It was the most amazing, frustrating thing in the world. I desperately wanted to tell everyone, especially that jerk Jay. But first things first. “Leo, didn’t Mommy tell you? I’m your real mom. Stop calling me Stepmom.” Leo tilted his head. Mom? “That’s right! Mommy’s good boy!” I scooped him up and covered him in kisses, then popped open a can of his favorite food. “It’s a beautiful day. You want to go outside and play?” Leo was already devouring his food, but he managed to answer between noisy chomps. Yay! Go outside! 4 Ever since Leo was a kitten, I’d been working on socializing him. We started with late-night walks when no one was around, then moved to daytime strolls when the park was quiet. Slowly, he got braver, and now we regularly went out to sunbathe. They say a well-socialized cat is less stressed at the vet, and it’s true. When Leo went in for his surgery, he acted like he was visiting Disneyland, tail held high, exploring every corner of the clinic as if he owned the place. After he finished his breakfast, I got out his harness. Mom, cat no wanna wear. “Leo, this is to protect you. If something tries to attack you, Mommy can pull you away safely, okay?” Oh… He didn’t seem to fully grasp it, but he dutifully lifted his paws so I could put on the little pink harness with the bow. I usually carried him in the elevator. We lived on the fifth floor, so it was pretty convenient. Ding. The elevator doors opened to reveal a tall guy and a giant Samoyed. Leo, who had been bouncing with excitement, immediately burrowed into my arms. Mom, cat scared. “It’s okay, Mommy’s here,” I soothed him. “We can just take the next one.” I waved a hand to signal for them to go ahead, but the guy, wearing a baseball cap, didn’t seem to see me. He gave me a questioning look, then his eyes fell on the cat in my arms, and he seemed to understand. I thought he was going to hold the elevator, but instead, he took a step forward, blocking my view of the dog. Leo, no longer able to see the source of his fear, stretched his neck out, trying to get a peek. I whispered a thank you and stepped into the elevator. Mom, he say he goin’ downstairs to eat poop. Can cat eat poop? I practically fled the elevator, trying to stifle a laugh. “Leo, poop is not food.” Mom, doggo so sad. “Doggo? Is that the dog’s name? Why is he sad?” He’d looked perfectly happy and well-cared for to me. Clean white fur, bright eyes. The owner, the tall guy in all black, had a “don’t talk to me” vibe, but you could tell he was handsome under that cap. Leo didn’t answer right away. “Why is he sad?” I asked again. Leo’s voice was filled with somber pity. He say his dad no let him eat poop. I nearly died laughing. 5 There was a big park right next to our apartment complex, with trees, a lake, and a huge lawn. On weekends, it was packed with people—old, young, and plenty of pet owners like me. We were being followed by a fluffy brown poodle. Leo was giving it a dirty look. “What’s wrong?” I asked. Mom, dog bad. Dog pee everywhere. “Hahaha! No, Leo, that’s what dogs are supposed to do outside.” A golden retriever a little ways off was staring intently at Leo. “Why is that one staring at you?” Goldie say his owner best chicken-cooker in whole world. I dunno. Bet not as good as Mom! A little further on, we met a German Shepherd that looked incredibly smart. “They say German Shepherds are really smart, Leo.” Mom, cat smart too. “Yes, Leo is very smart.” He say when he was puppy, he help old lady cross street. “He did what?” Leo’s translations were a constant source of surprise. I never knew the animal world was so dramatic. We walked around for a bit and a little girl shyly asked if she could pet my cat. “Can she pet you, Leo?” I asked. I had to respect his opinion now that I could hear it. Leo hesitated. Okay. But only one pet. The little girl was very gentle. As she stroked his fur, Leo started purring, basking in the warm sun. I felt a wave of pure happiness. Soon, a crowd of kids started to gather. I knew it was time to go. There was a shortcut back to our building. As we were walking, I saw a familiar figure up ahead. Mom, it’s Doggo! I looked closer. It was the Samoyed from the elevator. I’d never seen them before that day. They must have just moved in. Leo seemed to really like the dog, so I was about to go over and say hi when a calico cat suddenly darted out from the bushes, blocking our path.

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At sixteen, my world was the size of a cornfield in Pennsylvania. My future was supposed to be a straight line from shucking corn to a quiet, early grave. Then he showed up. He pulled up in a vintage Porsche, the engine a low growl that scared the crows. A city boy, all sharp angles and restless energy, lighting a cigarette with a hand that trembled with rage. He was on the phone, shouting at his girlfriend. “Are you serious? You’re really ending it?” Her voice, tinny and cruel even through the speaker, shot back. “Dead serious. I was only with you to get to your brother, you idiot. Did you really think anyone could ever love you?” He kicked the gravel, a cloud of dust rising around his expensive loafers. His eyes, wild and hurt, scanned the fields and landed on me. He beckoned with a sharp flick of his wrist. He was making a bet with the universe, and I was his chip. “Hey. You,” he called out, his voice laced with a bitter, reckless challenge. “I’ll pay for your school. I’ll buy you clothes, a car, a life. You’ll never have to worry about money again. All you have to do is love me. How about it?” I didn’t hesitate. “Okay.” That was seven years ago. A lifetime ago. Now, he was asking me for something else. “I need you to go after my brother,” he said. “Make him fall for you. It’s the only way Chloe will finally give up and come back to me.” 1 I didn’t say yes right away. In seven years, I had been completely remade. Leo Fordham had kept his promise. He had molded me, polished me. He paid for my education, hired tutors, funded any class or hobby my heart desired. He was a master sculptor, and I was his clay. When I graduated last year, he bought me a penthouse apartment and a new Mercedes. I remember learning to drive that summer, the city air thick and hot. He sat in the passenger seat day after day, endlessly patient, never once complaining as I lurched through traffic. No one calls me a farm girl anymore. They whisper that I’m the girl the younger Fordham heir keeps tucked away in his pocket. His charity case. His Pygmalion project. His, for all intents and purposes, future wife. After all, he had spent seven years cultivating a single flower. Now that it was in full, brilliant bloom, who would believe he’d ever let someone else pick it? But no one had counted on Chloe Astor coming back. She had left for London shortly after their breakup, cutting ties with everyone. Last month, she returned, armed with a new degree and an old obsession. The first thing she did was confess her love to Alex Fordham, Leo’s older brother. He turned her down, of course. Chloe’s infatuation with Alex had always been a ghost in their relationship, a secret no one spoke of. After his rejection, with nowhere else to turn, she called the one person she knew would answer. She called Leo. “Leo,” she’d sobbed into the phone. “I’m back.” That one sentence was all it took to unravel him. She called him again and again, every time Alex’s silence cut her a little deeper. And every time, Leo was the one who went to her, the one who patched her back together. He was caught in a terrible trap—aching for her, furious with her. How could she not see him? He had offered her his entire world, but her eyes were still fixed on his cold, distant brother. I never thought he’d resort to a scheme this desperate. From what I knew of Alex Fordham, he was a man carved from ice. He wasn’t the type to fall for any woman, let alone one sent by his brother. But Leo was persistent. He started pleading with me daily. Flowers arrived at my office, followed by Celine boxes and Cartier bags. Money flowed toward me like a river, a desperate, glittering tide. My colleagues noticed. “He’s definitely trying to propose,” my friend Maya said, admiring a bouquet of roses so large it barely fit on my desk. “The way he looks at you… it’s not just a friendship. He’s rich, he’s crazy about you. Just say yes, Ava. And make sure we’re invited to the wedding.” I managed a weak smile, saying nothing. Yes, he was so good to me. It was a debt I could never repay. My phone buzzed. It was him. “Get the flowers?” His voice had that familiar, careless charm. “You like them?” “I did,” I said. He sighed, a rare note of defeat in his voice. “Look, I’ve been thinking… if you really don’t want to do this, I won’t force you. I’ll figure something else…” “I’ll do it.” The line went silent. Then, “What?” “The plan. With your brother. I’ll do it.” He was quiet for a long moment before a relieved laugh burst from him. “Okay. Great. Just… give it a shot. If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work. I’ll still take care of you forever, you know that.” He paused, then added, as if trying to convince himself, “My parents have thrown a hundred girls at Alex over the years, maybe more. He hasn’t looked twice at any of them… but you’re different. He’s always been… I don’t know, nicer to you.” “I wouldn’t ask if I had any other choice,” he finished softly. I watched the moon hang pale and distant in the city sky. After a long moment, I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. “Okay.” I heard the distinct flick and crackle of a lighter. He was smoking again. He said my name, his voice muffled by the smoke. “Ava.” “Yes?” “I never asked you.” “Asked me what?” “Is there anyone you like? Anyone you’re… in love with?” My gaze fell to the crimson roses on my desk, their petals impossibly perfect. I’d heard he used to fly in flowers for Chloe from halfway across the world, each stem costing more than a month’s rent for a normal person. My lips felt dry. “No,” I lied. “That’s not important.” “It is,” he said, his voice suddenly serious. “If there’s someone else, I can’t ask you to do this. I won’t ruin your life.” I pressed my fingers against the cool glass of my office window. “There’s no one.” 2 I lied to Leo. I was in love with him. I had been since that first day in the cornfield. But for all these years, his heart has only ever held a space for Chloe. A few days later, Leo threw a welcome home party for her at an exclusive downtown club. I received an invitation, a thick card with my name in elegant script. He told me Chloe had insisted on meeting me. “The girl from the cornfield? You actually brought her back with you, Leo?” she’d apparently said, laughing. “She was so… scrawny. All elbows and dirt. I thought you were joking. I’m dying to see what she looks like now.” I had a prior engagement and declined. Leo’s texts started flooding in. One after another, until the final one. [Alex will be there. You haven’t forgotten your promise, have you?] Reading the words, a familiar weight settled in my chest, heavy and suffocating. His request had been phrased as a choice, but it was never a choice at all. To refuse would be to prove I was ungrateful. A parasite. I couldn’t let him think that. When I arrived, they were all crowded around a poker table. The moment I walked in, the easy chatter died. A few people who used to greet me with warm hugs and call me “Miss Sheng” suddenly found the ceiling fascinating. Before, they’d fawned over me for Leo’s sake. Now, it was clear to everyone that the tide had turned. I was no longer the heir apparent to the Fordham fortune. I approached the table. Chloe was the only one winning, a smug little smile playing on her lips. Leo was a shark at cards, but tonight, I could see him folding good hands, letting her win. After a few minutes, Chloe finally looked up and saw me. Her eyes widened in performative shock. “Wow,” she breathed, covering her mouth with a perfectly manicured hand. “You look… so different. I remember you being so…” She trailed off with a dismissive little tsk, then pushed her chair back. “Here, you play. I’m tired.” She stood, immediately pulling out her phone. I was close enough to see the name on the screen: Alex Fordham. It was a one-sided conversation, a long stream of her messages met with absolute silence. I took her seat. The moment I sat down, Leo’s expression hardened. He picked up his cards with a new, aggressive impatience. The stakes were high, and no one was going easy on me. Within an hour, I was down over ten thousand dollars. 3 Chloe, who had been watching from the sidelines, spoke up, her voice dripping with faux concern. “Oh, my God, you guys. Why are you letting her lose so much? Where is she going to get that kind of money? Can she even afford this?” Nate, Leo’s best friend, threw his cards down on the table. He looked at me, his eyes cool and indifferent. “What’s the big deal? Leo will cover it.” He wasn’t wrong. That’s how it had always been. Chloe’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh? Really?” Leo grunted in affirmation, already pulling his phone out to make the transfer. But I spoke first. “That’s okay. I’ve got it.” Leo’s head snapped up, his eyes dark. “Ava, don’t be stupid.” “It’s fine,” I said, forcing a smile. “I can’t rely on you forever.” Over the years, with the resources Leo provided, I’d learned how to make my own money. I was a good investor. I had savings. I even had a separate bank account he knew nothing about, where I deposited money every month—a fund I’d started with the intention of one day paying him back. Pulling out my phone, I transferred the money to each of them. Leo’s winnings were the largest. He stared at the transaction notification on his screen for a long time, his jaw tight. Finally, he hit ‘accept’ with a sharp tap. “Well, look at you, Ava Sheng. All grown up.” A little while later, I excused myself to go to the restroom. On my way back, I heard their voices from a secluded balcony down the hall. Leo and Chloe. Arguing. “You said Alex was coming! Where is he?” “Something came up. What, are you still obsessed? You’ve been chasing him for months, has he even sent you a single text?” “So what? It’s my choice!” Chloe’s voice sharpened. “And why do you still have her around? That… Ava girl. Why are you still paying for her life?” I heard Leo shift his weight. “Are you jealous?” “No! I just can’t stand women like that. Freeloaders. Living off someone else’s money like a leech. God knows how much of your money she’s spent over the years.” A pause. Then Leo’s voice, low and rough. “It was a bet, remember? I did it to piss you off. If you’d just give up on my brother and come back to me, I’d cut Ava off tomorrow. I’d never speak to her again.” The dim hallway lights blurred. I stood frozen in the shadows, my heart turning to a block of ice in my chest. I didn’t wait to hear more. I turned and walked in the opposite direction, breathing in the stale, conditioned air until the burning in my lungs subsided. When I finally returned to the private room, it was empty. I walked out of the club and into a torrential downpour. Nate was just leaving, propping up a drunk girlfriend. He’d been sick in the bathroom. He saw me and blinked. “You’re still here? Oh, right. Leo left to take Chloe home.” He looked out at the sheets of rain. “Damn. This is bad. And this place is in the middle of nowhere. I’m heading in the opposite direction, or I’d give you a lift…” He hesitated. “I can call Leo, tell him to circle back for you?” I shook my head. “Don’t bother.” Nate just sighed, giving me a sympathetic look before bundling his date into his car and speeding off. I hated myself for not driving. I pulled out my phone, trying to get an Uber, but no cars were available. I checked the map. There was a bus stop about a mile away. It was my only option. Taking a deep breath, I stepped out from under the awning and into the deluge. I hadn’t made it more than a few feet when an umbrella suddenly appeared over my head, shielding me from the rain. Then, a low, calm voice spoke from behind me. A voice that was exactly as the world described it: cold, steady, and devoid of warmth. “Ava.” 4 That night, it was Alex Fordham who drove me home. The rain hammered against the roof of his car, a relentless, deafening rhythm. Halfway there, his phone rang. He answered it, the caller ID glowing with his brother’s name. The connection was clear. I could hear every word Leo said. “Hey, man. We all took off. Don’t bother coming to the club if you’re done with your meeting.” Alex’s expression didn’t change. He didn’t mention that he had already been there, that he had seen the empty room. “You said it was urgent. You ran off before I even got there. What was so important?” “Ah, it was Chloe. You know how she is. She wanted to see you. I can’t say no to her.” A flicker of something—annoyance, maybe—crossed Alex’s face. “Is that right? You’ll give her anything she wants? Even sell out your own brother?” Leo’s laugh was careless, unbothered. “Of course.” “You know I’ve loved her since we were kids. I’d do anything for her. I’d give up anything for her.” “Besides,” Leo continued, “it’s your own damn fault for never dating anyone.” He paused, and I heard him curse under his breath. “Shit. I forgot about Ava. I gotta go, man.” Alex glanced at me for a fraction of a second. “Right,” he said into the phone, and hung up. How kind of Leo to remember me eventually. Alex said nothing. I turned my head, focusing on the distorted city lights blurring past the rain-streaked window. My phone was in my purse. The old me would have snatched it out, desperately checking to see if Leo had called, if he was worried. But tonight, I felt nothing but a profound exhaustion. I left it in my bag. The screen remained dark, the ringer silent. It occurred to me then that I’d put it on vibrate for a meeting that afternoon and never changed it back. The rest of the drive passed in silence. When we finally pulled up to my building, I felt a wave of relief. The rain was still coming down hard. He reached into the back seat and handed me an umbrella. “Thank you,” I said, my voice quiet. I reached for it, but when my fingers closed around the handle, he didn’t let go. I looked up, confused. “Mr. Fordham?” His gaze was steady, focused on me. It felt like he was seeing straight through the sophisticated shell Leo had built, all the way back to the girl in the cornfield. After a long, unnerving moment, he finally released his grip. “If you’re hurting,” he said, his voice unexpectedly gentle, “it’s okay to show it.” He paused. “And if you need help with anything, you can come to me.” He added, “I won’t tell anyone.” My heartbeat stuttered. I realized then that my hands, hidden in my lap, had been trembling ever since his brother’s phone call. I’d give up anything for her. Wasn’t that me? Wasn’t I the “anything”? I clenched my fists, trying to still them. I looked into Alex Fordham’s calm, serious eyes, and a wild, self-destructive impulse bloomed in my chest. I deliberately changed my tone, my address. “Alex,” I began, my voice a stranger to my own ears. “What if I said… I wanted to be with you?” His brow furrowed. He gave me a single, cool glance. “That,” he said flatly, “is not an option.”

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

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

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