Category: English

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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I’m the daughter of the villain, from nine years in the future. On the very day he was supposed to abduct the woman he loved, I beat him to it and locked a bleach-blond kid in his own basement. He stared at the boy writhing on the concrete floor, his lips trembling. “Lila! Who is he?” I blinked, feigning a shy blush. “He’s my soulmate.” In the weeks that followed, I used his basement to hold the captain of the soccer team, the school bully, and a couple of dropouts from the neighborhood… Until the day I decided to go for a big score. I went to push the door open and found it welded shut. 1 I stood at the front door, my little backpack slung over my shoulders, and stretched onto my tiptoes to press the doorbell. The door swung open, revealing a face that was both intimately familiar and yet a complete stranger. Cole Blackwood. My father. Nine years younger. His eyes were brighter than I remembered, but the storm clouds of gloom were already gathering in his brow. The sleeves of his black button-down were rolled to his elbows, showing off powerful forearms that were still missing the jagged scar he’d get protecting me from a knife. “Which one of the neighbors are you? Wrong house, kid.” He frowned, his voice a low, cold rumble. I tilted my head back and beamed at him. “Daddy, it’s me, Lila. Your daughter. From nine years in the future.” The expression on Cole’s face froze solid. His eyes swept over me, morphing from confusion to sharp suspicion. His right hand was already reaching for the phone in his pocket. “Kid, you can’t just go around calling strange men ‘daddy.’ Did your actual father approve this little field trip?” “You need to leave. Now,” he threatened. “Before I have the cops haul you away for fraud.” I was prepared for this. I pulled a folded copy of a DNA test from my backpack and waved it in front of his face. “The police don’t arrest minors. This is a paternity test. If you don’t believe it, we can go get a new one right now.” His hand paused its journey to his phone. His gaze fixed on the paper, his frown deepening. I could see the gears turning in his head, trying to work out the angle of the scam. While he hesitated, I ducked under his arm and slipped into the house. “Out!” he barked, lunging for me. I dodged him easily and did a quick scan of the living room. “The house looks pretty much the same as it did nine years ago,” I noted. “Just missing my toys and all your whiskey bottles.” I pointed. “Behind that TV console, you keep a safe. The combination is 0-9-0-5-2-4.” Cole froze, his expression turning to one of genuine shock. No one else knew about the safe, let alone the combination. “Who the hell are you?” His voice was laced with a dangerous edge now. “Your daughter,” I said simply. I sighed, knowing he still wasn’t convinced, and pulled a small notebook from my bag. “May 20th, 2013. You were ambushed during a deal with the Vipers at the southside warehouse. You took a bullet in your left shoulder.” “Christmas, 2014. You snuck the newest game console under my pillow and told me it was from Santa Claus.” I held the notebook out to him. “Do I need to mention the time you sang ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star’ so off-key in the shower?” The tips of his ears turned a visible shade of pink. He snatched the notebook from my hand and flipped through the pages, his face growing darker with every entry he read. “This is impossible…” he muttered. “It’s very possible. If you still don’t believe me, we can go get that DNA test.” His gaze flickered over my face, a storm of conflicting emotions in his eyes. Finally, he pulled out his phone and dialed. “Alex, get a doctor over here. Now. Someone who can run a rush paternity test.” He hung up and glared at me. “Until those results come back, you’d better not try anything funny.” I just shrugged, trotted into the dining room like I owned the place, and plopped down on a chair, my short legs swinging. “Daddy, I’m hungry. Can you make me dinner?” Cole looked at me as if I’d just asked him to build a rocket to the moon. “You want me to cook? I don’t cook. I have never cooked.” “Liar,” I said, ticking off items on my fingers. “You can make sweet and sour ribs, Coke-braised chicken wings, pan-seared sea bass… and your special pineapple and shrimp fried rice is my absolute favorite thing in the world.” His frown deepened. “I don’t set foot in the kitchen. We have Mrs. Gable for that.” “That’s just because you haven’t learned yet,” I said, fluttering my eyelashes. “Turns out, you’re a natural. A total prodigy. Besides, Mrs. Gable could never make it taste the way you do.” 2 Cole’s jaw twitched. His eyes darted unconsciously to the clock on the wall. I knew what he was thinking. According to his original schedule, he was supposed to leave in three hours to drug and kidnap Claire. If he started cooking now, it could throw his entire plan off schedule. Right on cue, my stomach let out a long, pathetic growl. “I haven’t eaten in three days… My tummy is all empty.” Cole’s head snapped toward me. “What do you mean? The future me… he doesn’t feed you?” “No, it’s not that. It’s because you died, so they sent me to an orphanage. And there… only the good kids got to eat.” I dropped my head, my voice sinking to a whisper. “And I was not the good kind.” The Sunshine Home was a front, a pipeline for supplying children to predators. I had waited until the middle of the night, unlocked all the doors so the other kids could run, and tried to set the whole rotten place on fire. But they caught me before the flames got very high. The director and his men, they beat me with belts. They put out their cigarettes on my skin. If the police hadn’t shown up for a surprise inspection, I probably would have died right there. It was in that moment, hovering on the edge of death, that I finally understood. My father, Cole Blackwood, was just a villain in a story. In his desperate fight for the heroine, he had hurt others, and he had destroyed himself. And my mother? She was a woman who had loved him from the shadows. At a gala, a rival drugged my father and locked him in a room with the heroine. But my mother secretly let the heroine go… and took her place. She got pregnant with me and died from a hemorrhage giving birth. By the time my father found out about any of it, it was too late. He was consumed by regret, by grief. He tortured himself. My existence was the only flicker of light in his world of darkness. But when I was five, he died too. The Blackwood fortune was carved up and stolen by vultures, and I was thrown into the orphanage. After my escape and the fire, the hospital authorities were planning to send me to another facility. I didn’t want to be passed around again, so I just grabbed my little backpack and ran. I didn’t expect that the little alley I escaped down would lead me here, nine years into the past. Cole’s fingers clenched into a fist. “And your mother? Who is she?” I bit my lip and shook my head. “I don’t know.” “You don’t know? How can you not know who your own mother is?” His voice was sharp with disbelief. Because in the flashes of memory I had, my mother was only ever mentioned in two simple sentences. One, she was in love with Cole Blackwood. Two, she died after giving birth to me. I held up my small hands. “I never met her. She died from a hemorrhage… Besides, shouldn’t you be the one I’m asking?” The question hit him like a physical blow. His Adam’s apple bobbed. His voice was unsteady when he spoke. “You said… your mother… bled to death when you were born?” His face was growing paler by the second. I asked softly, “Daddy, are you okay?” Cole didn’t answer. He turned and walked to the window, his back to me. He stood there for a long time, shrouded in an aura of profound sadness. I was about to say something else, but my stomach roared again, demanding attention. I really was starving. I’d left in such a hurry I hadn’t even had a sip of water. The sound seemed to pull him back to reality. He turned, his eyes a swirling mix of emotions. “I can’t be sure I believe anything you’re saying right now,” he said, his voice strained. “Why don’t you let me make you dinner first? After the paternity test comes back, you can ask me whatever you want.” I pouted, my lower lip trembling pitifully. A muscle in Cole’s jaw jumped. He hesitated for a moment longer, then finally took out his phone and started searching for recipes. 3 “What do you want to eat?” he asked gruffly, his eyes glued to the screen. “Sweet and sour ribs! And the Coke-braised chicken wings! And…” I rattled off a list of his future culinary masterpieces. Cole raised an eyebrow. “And you’re sure I know how to make any of this?” “I’m not sure,” I said with unwavering confidence. “But I know you’re a fast learner.” He let out a short, humorless laugh, but he started gathering ingredients according to my menu anyway. Just then, the doorbell rang. Mrs. Gable, the housekeeper, stood on the porch, holding bags of groceries. Her eyes traveled past Cole to where I was sitting, and they widened. “Mr. Blackwood… who… oh, my goodness, doesn’t this little one look just like you!” “Mrs. Gable.” Cole cleared his throat, a hint of awkwardness in his voice. “This is… a child who’s staying here temporarily. She was hungry, so I was just about to…” “Oh, heavens, sir! You don’t know how to cook. Let me do it!” Mrs. Gable immediately set down her bags and headed for the kitchen. I looked at Cole expectantly. He hesitated, then surprised me by saying, “That’s alright, Mrs. Gable. Tonight… I’d like to try myself.” Mrs. Gable’s jaw dropped. She looked back and forth between the two of us. “Sir, are you saying… you’re going to cook?” “Yes.” Cole was already rolling up his sleeves, revealing his muscular forearms. “You can just teach me as I go.” Mrs. Gable looked from Cole to me, and then a look of sudden understanding dawned on her face. Her eyes crinkled into a joyful smile. “Of course, of course! I’ll be your sous chef! And what’s your name, little darling? What’s your favorite dish?” “Sweet and sour ribs!” I cheered, hopping in my seat. The scene that followed was a culinary disaster zone. Under Mrs. Gable’s guidance, Cole fumbled his way through preparing the ribs. He stared at the recipe on his phone so intently you’d think he was trying to set it on fire with his mind, not even noticing when he spilled soy sauce on his hand. Still, he stubbornly refused to let Mrs. Gable take over, insisting on completing every step himself. “Rice wine… soy sauce… dark soy sauce…” he muttered, his brow furrowed in concentration. I sat on a high stool by the kitchen entrance, swinging my legs and acting as commander-in-chief. “Daddy, the heat is too high! …Now add the sugar! …Flip them, flip them!” “Quiet, I know!” he shot back without turning, but there was no real anger in his voice. By the time the first platter of sweet and sour ribs was finally plated, the kitchen was a complete wreck. A sheen of sweat covered Cole’s forehead, and his black shirt was splattered with oil, but the glistening, reddish-brown ribs on the plate smelled absolutely divine. “Try it.” He pushed the plate toward me, his face a stern mask that couldn’t quite hide the flicker of anticipation in his eyes. I eagerly picked up a piece and took a bite. It was the perfect balance of sweet and tangy, crispy on the outside and tender on the inside. It was eighty percent there. Eighty percent him. “It’s so delicious!” I exclaimed, my mouth full. “Daddy, you’re a genius!” The corner of Cole’s mouth ticked upward before he forced it back down. “Stop with the flattery.” Mrs. Gable was beaming beside us. “Sir, your talent is just incredible! To cook this well on your first try!” He cleared his throat and turned to get the rice, but not before I saw the tips of his ears turn a faint shade of red. The discovery thrilled me. The nine-years-younger version of my dad was so easily embarrassed! The DNA results came back before evening. 4 When Mrs. Gable rushed in with the envelope, I was on the living room floor, assembling a Lego set Cole had bought for me. He’d insisted it was only a temporary loan, of course. “Sir! The results are here!” Cole strode out of his study. I noticed his fingertips were trembling slightly as he took the envelope. I put down my Lego piece and sat cross-legged, my heart starting to pound. Even though I already knew the outcome, watching him tear open that envelope made me chew on my lower lip with nervous energy. He pulled out the thin sheet of paper, his eyes jumping straight to the bottom line. He froze, looking as if he’d been struck by lightning. “99.99%…” Cole whispered, his voice barely audible. Mrs. Gable was already dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. “I knew it! I said she had your eyes, your nose… she’s the spitting image of you, sir!” Then, a thought struck her. “Sir, who is the missus? When do we get to meet her?” Cole’s expression became impossibly complicated. He opened his mouth, then closed it. “I… I don’t know.” Mrs. Gable’s smile froze. Her gaze darted between Cole and me before she tactfully retreated. “I’ll… I’ll go start on dinner…” The room fell silent, leaving just the two of us. Cole slowly crouched down to my level, his eyes—so much like my own—swirling with emotions I couldn’t decipher. “Lila…” He used my name, a rare occurrence, his voice raw. “Your mother really… bled to death?” I nodded. “My mom must have loved you so much, Daddy. To risk everything just to have me.” Cole went rigid, as if someone had hit a pause button on the world. His Adam’s apple bobbed a few times, and a film of moisture seemed to cloud his eyes. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end, he just raised a hand and gently rested it on the top of my head. “Go take a bath. Mrs. Gable laid out some pajamas for you.” After my bath, I tiptoed to Cole’s bedroom and, without knocking, pushed the door open. It was a privilege my future self had earned; I wondered if it would still work now. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding a photograph. He immediately flipped it facedown on the nightstand when he heard me. It was a picture of Claire. “What is it?” he asked, his brow furrowing with a hint of panic. I padded over to him, my bare feet silent on the rug. I looked up at him. “I can’t sleep. You haven’t sung me my lullaby yet.” Cole stared. “…What?” “My lullaby. The song to help kids sleep.” I climbed onto his bed and burrowed under the covers as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I don’t know any,” he said flatly. “You didn’t know how to cook, but you learned. You’ll learn how to sing, too.” I blinked up at him. Cole’s mouth twitched. I think he was starting to regret his culinary adventure. He stood up, towering over me. “Go back to your own room.” “No. It smells better in here.” I pulled the covers over my head. “Li-la.” He enunciated each syllable, but there was no real force behind it. He was helpless against me. I peeked out from under the blanket. The expression on his face shifted from annoyance to resignation, and finally to a strange kind of surrender. “…I really can’t sing,” he said, his voice low. I revealed half my face. “Then just hum something. You smell so good, Daddy…” His body went noticeably stiff. After a long moment, he cleared his throat and began to hum a simple, wordless melody. It was a little off-key, but it was gentle. I closed my eyes. It was the same song he always sang to me after a nightmare. When the humming stopped, I was drifting in the space between sleep and wakefulness. Through the haze, I felt a pair of hands gently lift me into the air. 5 As he adjusted his hold, my pajama sleeve slid down. Cole’s breath hitched. I forced my eyes open and saw him staring at the scars on my arm, his face as white as a sheet. “Who did this?” “The director at The Sunshine Home… but it’s okay, I set his office on fire later…” I mumbled, my eyelids too heavy to keep open. Cole’s arms tightened around me, holding me securely against his chest. His eyes looked red. “It will never happen again,” he promised, his voice thick with emotion. “I swear it.” I snuggled into a comfortable spot in his arms and let sleep take me. To help Cole fully embrace his new role as a father, I dragged him through a series of classic bonding activities. “Daddy, let’s go to the amusement park!” I announced on Monday morning, sprawling across his desk and pushing aside the contracts he was reviewing. Cole didn’t even look up. “No time.” “What about the Natural History Museum? I heard they have a T-Rex.” “Not going.” “The circus, then? It’s right downtown!” He finally lifted his head, his brow so furrowed you could get lost in the lines. “Lila, I’m very busy.” I pouted and slid a photograph from my backpack across the desk. It was from a trip to Disneyland when I was three. Cole was wearing Minnie Mouse ears, holding me in one arm and an ice cream cone in the other, a huge, genuine smile on his face. He stared at the picture for a full ten seconds, the tips of his ears glowing red. “…This is photoshopped.” “No, it’s not! It was your first time on the carousel, and you almost threw up when you got off.” I pointed at the photo triumphantly. Cole looked like he’d been struck by lightning. He rubbed his temples, defeated. “…Fine. One place.” “The amusement park!” I shot my hand up. “The museum,” he countered. “Deal!” And so began our week-long crash course in father-daughter activities. At the museum, Cole stood stiffly in front of the T-Rex skeleton while I gave him an enthusiastic, detailed account of the epic battle between the Tyrannosaurus Rex and Godzilla—a story he himself would tell me years from now. “Godzilla fought a T-Rex?” he asked, skeptical. “That’s what you told me! You also said Snow White married the Beast.” At the circus, when a clown bounded over for some audience participation, Cole’s instincts kicked in, and he nearly threw the poor man over his shoulder. I had to grab his arm. “Daddy, calm down! It’s part of the show!” Afterward, he actually took me to the amusement park. “Well, we’ve already been to two places. What’s one more,” he grumbled, though his heart clearly wasn’t in the complaint. He was as rigid as a board on the carousel. He almost sent our bumper car flying off the track. And in the haunted house, he was the one whose face went pale when the actors jumped out, while I laughed so hard I couldn’t breathe. “Li-la!” He clamped a hand over my mouth the second we were out, his teeth clenched, but I could see the ghost of a smile in his eyes. In all this time, he seemed to have completely forgotten about Claire. But I knew the peace wouldn’t last. According to the original timeline, Claire was about to have a major fight with her boyfriend, Ethan. She would run off to a dangerous part of town, and Cole would go to save her, only to be wrongly accused of being her attacker. That incident would send him into a deep depression, and he’d start drinking heavily. I had to do something to stop it. 6 So the next day, after Cole left for work, I used my allowance to hire a few local troublemakers to tie up the bleach-blond kid who’d been extorting lunch money from the younger students. “Little boss, we brought him like you said. Where’s the cash?” the leader of the group asked, rubbing his hands together. I handed him the bills Cole had given me. “Don’t you dare tell my dad!” “Our lips are sealed!” They snatched the money and vanished. I looked at the gagged and bound kid. “Don’t worry, it’s just for one night. You stole that first grader’s lunch money last week, right? Consider this your punishment.” The kid mumbled incomprehensibly through the cloth stuffed in his mouth. With a great deal of effort, I dragged him into the basement. I had just locked the door when I heard a car pull into the driveway. Crap. Why was Cole home so early? I scrambled to the sofa and pretended to be engrossed in a cartoon. Cole walked in and saw me sitting there, a little too perfectly behaved, and a look of suspicion crossed his face. “Lila, have you eaten?” “Not yet. I was waiting for you, Daddy.” He came over and ruffled my hair. “I’m just going to change.” As he headed upstairs, a loud thump echoed from the basement. That stupid kid was ramming the door. Cole paused on the stairs and glanced at me. Then he changed course and started toward the basement. My heart leaped into my throat. I shot up and ran to block his path. “Daddy! Go change! I’m starving!” I tugged on his sleeve, my voice deliberately loud and whiny. Just then, another heavy thump came from below, followed by a series of muffled cries. Cole pulled his arm free. “Lila, who is in there?” “I don’t know! Probably a rat? A really, really big one!” I said, my eyes wide with innocence. He snorted. “Do I look like a three-year-old to you?” The moment he opened the door, Cole froze. The bleach-blond kid had managed to give himself a bloody nose. His mouth was still gagged, and he was sobbing as he wriggled across the floor. When he saw Cole, his eyes lit up as if he’d found his long-lost mother, and he started desperately humping his way forward. The silence was heavy. Cole turned to me, his face a blank mask. “Explain. Who is this?” I puffed out my chest. “My soulmate!” He looked like he’d misheard. “…What?” “You know… the older boy… who bought me a lollipop at the convenience store last week… I thought he was so handsome…” I said, trying to look shy. The kid’s eyes went wide. He shook his head frantically, smearing blood across the floor. Cole’s face went from pale to dark thunder. He took a deep breath and rubbed his temples. “Lila, did you just kidnap your… soulmate?” “It wasn’t kidnapping! I just… invited him over! I didn’t know he’d be so shy…” I defended myself weakly. Cole closed his eyes, visibly forcing himself to stay calm. He walked over and ripped the tape off the kid’s mouth. The boy let out a terrified yelp. “Mister, I swear I didn’t do anything to her! I don’t even know this little monster! That lollipop last week? She stole it from me!” He was right. He had stolen a kid’s lunch money to buy snacks, and I had simply relieved him of the lollipop. Cole turned to look at me, raising an eyebrow. “Hmm?” I shrank back. “The details aren’t important…” He sighed, untied the kid, and ordered him not to say a word about this to anyone. After swearing on his life, the boy scrambled out, tripped on the stairs, and knocked out a tooth on his way. Once he was gone, Cole turned to me with a cold expression and demanded to know why I’d done it. Tears welled in my eyes. “Why are you being so mean, Daddy? You’re the one who taught me. If you see something you want, you take it.” I looked him straight in the eye. “I wanted this big boy. Why couldn’t I just take him?” 7 He was clearly at a loss for words, blindsided by my logic. “When did I ever teach you that?” “In the future.” The truth was, Cole had never directly taught me such things, but I knew his methods. I was just following his example, leaving him with no ground to stand on. His expression softened, becoming more complex. He was silent for a long time. “Lila… that’s not right. You can’t just take what you want by force. Do you understand?” “Okay.” I understood. But why didn’t he? Cole gently took my chin, making me look at him. “I’m serious. No matter what the… future me becomes, the me standing here now is telling you that forcing people is wrong.” “But… what if you like something so, so much?” I asked in a small voice. “You can work hard to earn it, but you can’t hurt others to get it. Truly strong people don’t need to use force to get what they want.” Hearing those words from his lips felt strange. But… he wouldn’t lie to a child, would he? He wouldn’t go back on his word and lock Claire in the basement, would he? I decided to trust him. For now. That evening at dinner, as Cole was carefully picking the bones out of my fish, he asked, “Lila, what grade are you in?” I froze, my fork hovering over my rice. “I don’t go to school.” He stopped what he was doing and looked at me. “Why not?” “After you died, I went to the orphanage. The director said I was pretty and could fetch a high price. He said school makes kids know too much, and the buyers don’t like that.” The air in the dining room turned to ice. I didn’t dare look at his face. “The first buyer he set me up with was a movie director. He said he’d make me an actress. But he locked me in a cage and told me to get on all fours and bark like a dog.” The chopsticks in Cole’s hand snapped in two. “He didn’t like the look in my eyes. Said I was too fierce, not obedient enough… Later, when I got a chance, I bit one of his fingers off.” “And then what?” His voice was a terrifyingly low growl. “They sent me back. I got a beating. With a hot iron poker.” I pushed up my sleeve, revealing the winding, raised scars on my arm. Cole shot up from his chair, his eyes red and frightening, filled with a raw, murderous intent. “I’m going to kill them. Right now.” I jumped down and grabbed his trembling hand. “Daddy, that’s in the future. Right now, The Sunshine Home is just a normal orphanage.” “Lila… I’m so sorry…” His face was a mask of self-loathing and regret. I shook my head. “It’s not your fault, Daddy. It’s their fault for being bad people.” Cole pulled me into a fierce hug, promising me that nothing like that would ever happen again. “Tomorrow… I’ll take you to look at schools. The best one…” The next morning, Cole drove me to school himself. It was even more beautiful than I could have imagined. I heard it was funded by the Blackwood Corporation. I was placed in the first grade, class three, at Sunlight Experimental Elementary. Most of the kids were friendly, especially my desk mate, Daisy, who shared her stickers with me. When school let out, just as I’d expected, Cole was the first person waiting at the gate. “Did you like it?” he asked, taking my backpack and wiping the sweat from my forehead. 8 “I loved it! Daisy taught me how to fold paper airplanes, Mrs. Davis said my handwriting was beautiful, and the chicken wings at lunch were so good!” I chattered excitedly, waving my arms. A genuine smile touched Cole’s lips. “Good. I’m glad.” That night, a breaking news story caught my eye on the television: “Blackwood Corporation officially announced the acquisition of The Sunshine Home today, pledging a multi-million dollar investment to improve its facilities and educational standards…” My head whipped around to look at Cole. “Daddy! The Sunshine Home!” He didn’t look up from his newspaper. “Mm.” A week later, another news story aired during dinner: “Famed director Arthur Vance arrested on suspicion of false imprisonment and child abuse. Sources say police discovered… in his private villa…” The middle-aged man being led away in handcuffs was him—the monster from my past who had told me to bark like a dog. Cole was looking over my homework. “Lila, 3 + 5 = 10?” “Daddy…” My voice cracked. He didn’t look up. “Even I know that 3 + 5 doesn’t equal 10.” I… Just when I thought he might finally be able to let Claire go, Ethan’s call came through. Cole glanced at the caller ID, then answered. “Blackwood, where the hell have you hidden Claire?” Ethan roared through the phone. A flicker of tension crossed Cole’s face. “What are you talking about? What happened to Claire?” “Cut the crap! She told me she was going to see you last night, and now she’s missing!” “I haven’t seen her recently. What’s going on?” There was a pause on the other end, and then the line went dead. Cole stared at the dark screen for a moment, then finally looked at me. “Lila… do you know where Claire is?” My heart sank. Even after everything, he couldn’t let her go. “Daddy, if you go, you’ll only get hurt. Auntie Claire will be okay. Uncle Ethan will save her.” Cole was silent for a moment. “If… if you know something, can you please tell me?” “I don’t want you to get hurt! Just because I’m from the future doesn’t mean I know everything! I don’t know! I wasn’t even born yet, how would I know?” I angrily pushed away from him and ran upstairs. A moment later, I heard the front door close. He had gone anyway.

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I wanted the campus queen’s boyfriend. Badly. Because he was handsome, rich, and a genuinely good guy. And I was flat broke. He spent money on her like it was nothing, and I was practically drooling with envy. But the campus queen? She couldn’t get over the fact that he was “only” five-eleven. So when I heard they were on the rocks, I knew. This was my chance. 1 Vivian Knight, the undisputed queen of our department, was having it out with her trust-fund boyfriend, Asher Vaughn, right in front of the dorms. “What do you have besides a fat wallet?” she accused him, her voice dripping with disdain. “You’re not even six feet tall. Are you even a real man?” It was a direct hit to his pride. His face went pale, then a blotchy green. He gritted his teeth. “Do you really think I can’t do better than you?” Vivian’s smirk was pure arrogance. “Asher, you have to admit it. I’m the best you’re ever going to get.” I slowed my pace, timing my path to brush right past Asher. Suddenly, a hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. I looked up, my eyes meeting his, his face just inches from mine. “Will you be my girlfriend?” he asked, his voice surprisingly smooth. “Yes,” I practically shouted, nodding frantically. Vivian stared for a beat, then burst out laughing. Her eyes raked over my worn-out jeans and faded t-shirt with theatrical scorn. “I know you’re trying to make me jealous, Asher, but are you really this desperate? You can’t just grab the first charity case you see.” She leaned in close to me, a cruel glint in her eyes. “Well, well, little wallflower,” she whispered. “Playing with the big dogs now, are we?” She didn’t see me as a threat. Not even for a second. In her mind, this was just a desperate, heat-of-the-moment stunt. He would never actually want me as his girlfriend. And she was right. Any sane person, seeing the two of us side-by-side, would know who to choose. She was the statuesque, dazzling beauty who had turned heads from the moment she stepped on campus. And me? I was the mousy, invisible girl who didn’t own a single decent outfit and kept her head down so no one would notice her. My classmates called me the “little wallflower” to my face. In everyone’s eyes, I was pathetic, timid, and so insecure I couldn’t even look people in the eye when I spoke. In our year’s English department, Vivian and I were polar opposites. She was the supernova; I was the black hole. And by some cruel twist of fate, we were roommates. Vivian never bothered to hide her disgust for me. We shared a room, but she’d barely spoken a word to me. It was as if even acknowledging my existence would tarnish her radiant aura. With her looks, guys were constantly lining up for a chance. After playing the field, she’d finally settled on Asher Vaughn. You couldn’t blame her. He was just too rich. When he was pursuing her, he’d showered her with designer gifts without blinking an eye. It was an assault of brand names and luxury she couldn’t resist. After a month of being courted by half the campus, she chose Asher. And once they were official, the gifts didn’t stop. They got even more extravagant. One day, I overheard my other roommates whispering that the new handbag Vivian had just received was worth over ten thousand dollars. The shock was a physical blow. Ten thousand dollars for a bag? It was beyond my comprehension. What kind of purse could possibly cost that much? Was it lined with gold? My entire family’s annual income was less than that. In that moment, a single, consuming thought took root in my mind. I wish Asher Vaughn was my boyfriend. 2 Maybe it was the sheer scale of Asher’s wealth that did it, but I started to become curious about him. Vivian mentioned him in the dorm constantly. At first, it was all bragging. Lately, it had been all complaining. He wasn’t thoughtful enough, she’d whine. He didn’t know how to comfort her. He just threw money at every problem. “Every time I get upset, he just sends me money. He doesn’t even know how to talk to me,” she’d pout. “We’re in a relationship, not a business deal. Does he think money solves everything? He’s so unromantic!” I used to tune her out. But now, I hung on every word, collecting details about him like a secret treasure. The more I learned, the more an agonizing envy clawed at my insides. If you don’t want a perfect boyfriend like that, give him to me! From my secret observations, I knew Asher was more than just rich. He was emotionally stable, always calm and patient in the face of Vivian’s tantrums. He was respectful, too. When Vivian said she wasn’t ready to sleep with him, he accepted it without question, telling her he would never pressure her. They were still at the hand-holding stage. And while he was a trust-fund kid, he wasn’t a degenerate. He didn’t have the typical vices—no clubbing, no fast cars, no gambling. His hobbies were shockingly wholesome: basketball, hiking, surfing, photography. His only bad habit was smoking. But the most important thing? The way he looked at me. There was no pity, no disgust. I remember it clearly. During the university sports meet, I was standing outside our class’s designated spectator area. The student advisor shoved a few bottles of water into my hands. “Our relay team just finished. Quick, take these to them.” I nodded numbly and walked toward the track. But when I held out the water, the runners actively avoided me, no one willing to take a bottle from my hand. A tidal wave of shame washed over me. Just as I was about to pull my arm back, a hand took one of the bottles. I looked up. It was Asher, his face dripping with sweat. He twisted the cap off and took a huge gulp. A guy next to him nudged him with his elbow. “Dude, why’d you take water from her?” Asher looked confused. “Isn’t she in our class?” “Yeah, but…” “So I’m drinking water for our class. What’s the problem?” The guy lowered his voice. “You’re not grossed out?” “Grossed out by what?” Asher asked, taking another drink. His expression was one of genuine bewilderment. He truly didn’t understand what the other guy was implying. In that moment, I knew. Asher Vaughn was a good person. 3 Asher was a rich guy with a good heart. The exact thing I desperately needed. But he had a girlfriend. And more importantly, we were from different universes. He would never choose me. So I buried my envy, letting it fester in the dark corners of my mind, making me feel even more like a creature of the shadows. I never thought I’d get my lucky break. But there he was, asking me to be his girlfriend. Of course, I said yes. A thousand times yes. But as soon as the word was out, a look of regret flashed across his face and he let go of my wrist. He was already second-guessing his own impulsive act. Vivian’s expression was pure, smug satisfaction. “Asher, that was a low blow. I’m not forgiving you for that.” She tossed her hair back. “In fact, we’re done. We’re breaking up.” A sad smile touched Asher’s lips. “You’ve been waiting to say that for a while, haven’t you?” He nodded slowly. “Fine. As you wish.” Vivian’s triumphant smirk was the last thing I saw before she turned and walked away. Asher just stood there, frozen, like a statue. After a long moment, he finally seemed to reboot and turned to leave. I grabbed his arm. He looked at me, his eyes vacant, like his soul had left his body. He still had the decency to apologize. “I’m sorry about that. I was just kidding back there. Don’t take it seriously.” But I held on tight. “You said it. You asked me to be your girlfriend. You can’t take it back.” “I… I’m sorry.” “Are you still waiting for her to come back?” I decided to play dirty. “She’s been dying for an excuse to break up with you. There’s a guy on the basketball team who’s been chasing her. She can’t stop smiling whenever his name comes up. She’s already moved on.” “The basketball player?” Asher’s voice was flat. “Is he… tall?” I nodded. “Yeah. Like, six-three.” Asher let out a bitter laugh. “I knew it. She hates that I’m not six feet tall.” “You’re not short!” I blurted out. I’d seen the official class health records. Without shoes, Asher was exactly 5’11”. Just one inch shy of that magic number. But for Vivian, that one inch was an obsession. It was understandable, I guess. At 5’8”, she was a giant among girls. She’d said it more than once: any guy under six feet was defective. It was her absolute minimum requirement. She only found out Asher’s true height after they started dating, and it became a constant source of complaint. “How could he be just one inch off?” she’d moan in the dorm. That one inch became an insurmountable flaw, a dealbreaker. When the basketball player started pursuing her, she was giddy. “That height,” she’d sighed dramatically. “It’s just… perfect.” The comparison made her despise Asher even more. She started picking fights constantly, hoping he’d get fed up and dump her first. But Asher, oblivious, just kept sending gifts and money. 4 Seeing Asher’s defeated, blank expression, I knew I had to act fast. “You’re really not short,” I insisted. I knew plenty of guys who were 5’10” or 5’11” who rounded up to six feet without a second thought. Asher was just too honest. I used my hand to gesture between us. “I’m 5’4”, which is pretty average, and I have to crane my neck to look at you.” I stood on my tiptoes for emphasis. “To me, you’re really tall!” My mind raced, scrambling for the right words. It seemed to work. The gloom on his face started to lift. “Thanks,” he said, a small smile appearing. “That actually helps.” A dimple appeared on his right cheek, surprisingly cute. “I’m sorry,” he began again. “Before, I just—” I didn’t know what he was thinking, but I knew this was my one and only shot. If I lost it now, I’d never get another. So, before he could finish, I let the tears fall. He panicked, stopping mid-sentence. “Why are you crying? Was I too harsh? I didn’t mean to be.” I wiped my eyes, my voice catching in my throat. “I know everyone looks down on me. I’m from a poor town in the mountains. My family couldn’t even afford tuition. My clothes are all hand-me-downs. They call me a wallflower and make fun of my accent. When I walk by, they hold their noses, but I swear I shower every day! I don’t smell!” The words tumbled out, a mix of performance and painful truth. “Everyone in the dorm laughs at me. They say I’ll die alone!” It started as an act to gain his sympathy, but the more I spoke, the more real the tears became. Each one was laced with genuine pain. “They really say that about you?” Asher’s anger seemed real. “That’s horrible!” Suddenly our roles were reversed. He was the one desperately trying to comfort me. “You’re adorable! You have a cute round face and big eyes, like a character from a cartoon. And your voice is lovely—if you just worked on a few pronunciations, you could be a professional broadcaster! Your clothes are just a little old, but they’re always clean! Those people are just bored and cruel. Don’t listen to them.” “As for finding someone…” he trailed off, unsure what to say. I let out a loud, theatrical sob. “See? Even you think I’ll never find anyone!” “No! Of course not!” he said, frantically dabbing at my tears with his sleeve. “Didn’t I just ask you? To be my girlfriend?” I sniffled. “But you said you didn’t mean it.” “I meant it!” he said, his eyes firm. “From this moment on, you’re my girlfriend.” My eyes went wide. “Really?” “Really.” He paused. “But… I’m not a very good boyfriend.” “Why would you say that?” “Vivian told me. I have a lot of flaws. She said she was just putting up with me.” I looked at him—handsome, rich, kind, and now, thanks to Vivian, completely lacking in confidence. “In my eyes,” I said, enunciating every word, “you are an amazing person.” “Me? Amazing?” he asked, his voice full of doubt. “Yes, Asher,” I confessed. “I’ve admired you for a very long time.” 5 That night, I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned, a gnawing guilt eating away at me. I had tricked him into this relationship. I had played on his kindness, used his pity. It wasn’t a pretty truth, but it was the truth. I had been manipulative. I had been calculating. But I needed this boyfriend. I needed his money. I was born into a poor, rural family where boys were prized and girls were burdens. From a young age, I knew my parents’ love was reserved for my younger brother. The family’s money was for him. For me, there was only work. If I slacked, I was beaten. I studied with a desperate, all-consuming focus. It was my only escape. After middle school, my parents wanted to send me to a factory to work. But I got the highest score in my entire school, earning me a full scholarship to the best high school in the city, plus a cash award. For the sake of that award money, they let me go. They took the money, of course. They gave me twenty dollars a month for living expenses. For three years of high school, I was never not hungry. I even fainted from hunger in class once. My homeroom teacher was a kind woman who often invited me to her house for meals. After graduation, I scored high enough to get into my dream university. But there was no money for tuition. My parents told me that if I went to college, they wouldn’t give me a single cent. I worked all summer, but it wasn’t enough. A week before school started, I swallowed my pride and went to my aunt. She was the only relative who had ever shown me kindness, but she was poor, too, with two kids of her own. She secretly gave me two hundred dollars she had saved. I scraped and borrowed, but I was still short. I went back to my kind homeroom teacher and forced myself to ask. She gave me a hundred dollars. The next day, I found out from a classmate that her own father was in the hospital with cancer, and the medical bills were so high she and her husband were fighting about divorce. That night, I cried until I had no tears left. I wrestled with my conscience, but in the end, I kept the money. I wanted to go to school too much. And in that moment, I understood who I was. I was a selfish, cold-hearted person who put my own interests first. 6 After paying for tuition, travel, and basic food, I had thirty dollars left to my name. I treated every penny like it was my last. On the first day of school, I found a black pen on the ground. It was still half full of ink. I was ecstatic. I had just saved twenty-five cents. I still use that pen. When it runs out, I only buy refills. The barrel is now faded and cracked. To save money on haircuts, I let my hair grow to my waist. I had to earn money not just for food, but for the next year’s tuition. Every moment I wasn’t in class, I was working. Sometimes I washed dishes at a restaurant across the street until two in the morning. When the dorms were locked, I’d crash on a cot in the employee break room and get up at dawn to head back for class. I was in a constant state of exhaustion. In class, I was always dizzy and drowsy, unable to focus. My grades started to slip. I was an English major, and coming from a small town, my speaking and listening skills were already a disaster. I was a so-called “mute English” speaker. I was already miles behind the students from big cities, and now with my lack of sleep, the gap was widening. At the end of my freshman year, I barely passed one of my finals. I’m sure the professor took pity on me. I knew if things continued this way, failing was inevitable. I had fought so hard to get here. I knew my only job was to study. But if I didn’t work, I wouldn’t eat. It was a vicious cycle. Many times, when my back ached so much I couldn’t stand up straight, I wished I could just pass out and never wake up. Being alive was just too hard. 7 The next morning, I saw the six-foot-three basketball player waiting outside the dorm. Vivian bounced up to him, linked her arm in his, and they walked away together. They were official. I breathed a sigh of relief. At least now she wouldn’t be coming back for Asher. After my last class, I saw Asher waiting outside the lecture hall. I ran up to him, a surprised smile on my face. “How did you know I was here?” Then I remembered. Vivian and I were in the same program. Of course he had our class schedule. He used to wait here for her. Just then, Vivian and her new boyfriend walked past. When she saw Asher take my backpack from me, she shot me a look of pure venom. It was bizarre. She had a new boyfriend. Did she expect Asher to remain her property, too? Asher took me to the nicest cafeteria on campus. He ordered three main dishes and a soup. It was the most satisfying meal I’d had in years. Asher barely ate, just watched me, his chin resting on his hand. “Aren’t you going to eat? Why are you staring at me?” I asked, feeling a little self-conscious. “I haven’t seen someone enjoy their food this much in a long time,” he laughed. “It’s a pleasure to watch.” “You’d better eat before it’s all gone,” I warned him. He finally picked up his fork. “I wasn’t hungry, but watching you made me hungry. Don’t worry, if you finish it all, I’ll just order more.” I ate until I was full, a deep, comforting happiness settling in my stomach. “Thank you, Asher,” I said, sitting up straight. “For what?” “For the amazing meal.” He patted my head. “You’re too easy to please.” He pulled a brand-new smartphone out of his bag and handed it to me. “What’s this?” I hesitated. “It’s my backup phone. Never used it, it’s basically new.” He paused. “If you don’t want a hand-me-down, I can buy you a new one.” I shook my head vigorously. “No, this is perfect!” My current phone was an ancient burner phone, a hand-me-down from my uncle that was so beat up even the recycling kiosks wouldn’t take it. It could only make calls, and the battery lasted half a day. I never took it out in public. The shame was too much. A pale, elegant hand reached across the table. “Give me your old phone,” Asher said. I froze. As thick-skinned as I was, that phone was a source of deep shame. “I’ll transfer the SIM card for you.” His voice was so gentle it disarmed me. I slowly pulled out the battered device. He took it without a flicker of judgment in his eyes. His nimble fingers quickly popped out the SIM card and installed it in the new phone. He placed the new phone in my hand and pointed to the old one. “Do you still want this? I can put it back together for you.” I nodded. “Yes, please.” As he watched me clumsily navigate the new smartphone, he started patiently teaching me how to use it. I was probably the only university student who had never owned one. “You’re a fast learner,” he praised me. “I only have to show you once.” 8 That afternoon, Asher took me shopping. First, we went to a high-end salon. The stylist asked me how short I wanted my hair. “To my shoulders,” I said. My long hair had been a nuisance for years. It took forever to brush and used up so much shampoo. I’d kept it long simply because I couldn’t afford a haircut. An hour later, I walked out with a sleek, shoulder-length bob, my head feeling wonderfully light. Next, Asher took me to the mall. He bought me five complete outfits, three pairs of shoes, and a whole set of skincare and makeup. Staring at my reflection, I barely recognized myself. Asher stood beside me and gently poked my cheek. “What are you staring at?” “Is that… me?” “What, stunned by your own beauty?” he laughed. “I told you, you’re gorgeous. You just need to believe it.” Then we stood outside a designer handbag store. My heart started to pound. This was it. The ten-thousand-dollar bag Vivian had received had haunted me for months. That much money could pay for all four years of my tuition. If I was frugal, maybe even my master’s degree. My entire plan, my reason for being with Asher, hinged on one simple, sincere hope: that he would buy me a bag. It didn’t have to be the most expensive one. I would never even use it. I’d sell it, brand new, and get enough money to finally stop working those soul-crushing jobs. I could finally focus on my studies. With a mix of terror and excitement, I watched as Asher gestured to a wall of purses. His voice was music to my ears. “Pick one.” “Any one?” I asked, testing the waters. “Any one.” I could have screamed with joy. The cheapest bag was over two thousand dollars; the most expensive was in the five figures. I deliberated for a moment and chose one that was around five thousand. I felt like a monster, but the desire for a stable life won out. I pointed. Asher didn’t even look at the price tag. “We’ll take it.” In that moment, he was the most handsome man in the world.

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1 My fiancée, Chelan, cut my brake lines just so my childhood friend, Noah Vance, could win the championship. While I lay in a coma, she cleaned out my medical fund and ran off with him. Just as I was about to lose all hope, my old college friend, Amelia, stepped in. She covered my bills and took care of me, nursing me back to health. I was on my way to my comeback race when another car slammed into us. My parents died on impact. I was dragged back to the ICU. The day I was discharged, I overheard Chelan’s father laying into her. “If you didn’t want Andrew to race, you could have just told him! Why did you have to kill his parents?” Chelan’s voice, once so beautiful to me, was now laced with venom. “I promised Noah that Andrew would never race again. I don’t break my promises. Besides, his parents ruined Noah’s family. It’s a life for a life.” But that wasn’t true. Noah’s parents had taken their own lives after their business failed. It had nothing to do with my parents. A single, bitter tear slid from the corner of my eye. Chelan could rest easy now. The doctors had told me my tendons were permanently damaged. I would never race again. And as for Chelan… I was done with her, too. … Chelan’s words hit me like a physical blow. The world tilted, and I staggered, grabbing the wall for support. Her cold voice continued from down the hall. “And as for Andrew… he’s the son of murderers. His parents destroyed Noah’s life, so it’s only fair that he pays the price, too.” My heart felt like it was being shredded. I couldn’t breathe. Her father was furious. “How can you be so cruel? Andrew is your husband!” For a fleeting moment, a shadow of pain crossed Chelan’s face, but she quickly masked it. “I know. But I gave Noah my word. I couldn’t let Andrew get back on that track. I’ve been by his side this whole time. That should count for something, right? Atonement?” Atonement? I pulled at the tight, numb corners of my mouth. How could she possibly atone for my parents’ deaths? I had thought the crash was a tragic accident. But it was all a part of a deliberate plan, orchestrated by the woman I shared a bed with. The same woman who had encouraged my return to racing, who had even filled out the registration forms for me. She had used my dream as a weapon to murder my family. And the lie about Noah’s parents… it was all a lie. They couldn’t handle the failure of their business and chose to end their lives. Chelan knew this. She had to. She had killed my parents. And I would make her pay. Overwhelmed with grief, I turned to leave, but her voice stopped me again. “Don’t worry, Dad. Andrew has always wanted a child. And I’m pregnant. Even if he finds out the truth, he’ll forgive me for the baby’s sake.” I froze, a storm of emotions churning inside me. For three years, I had begged her for a baby. She always had an excuse—first, she was too busy taking care of me. Then, as I recovered, she was too focused on her career. And now, she was pregnant. Her father’s face softened with relief. “A baby… that’s good. At least I’ll have something to offer his parents when I see them in the next life.” But as I looked at Chelan, a flicker of something unnatural crossed her face. Was it… guilt? Before I could be sure, her expression was smooth again. Her phone rang, a cheerful, upbeat tune that felt jarring in the sterile hospital hallway. A small, secretive smile touched her lips. “Dad, Andrew’s been gone a while. Can you go check on him?” she urged. He nodded and hurried back toward my room. As soon as he was out of sight, Chelan answered the call. “Noah, why are you calling now? What if Andrew hears?” Her voice was a hushed whisper. “You miss the baby? He’s not even born yet. You can’t let Andrew find out the baby is yours. We’ll both be ruined!” The leg I had been about to move hung suspended in mid-air. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The baby… it was Noah’s. I looked up, and the blissful, happy smile on Chelan’s face was like a dagger in my heart. She looked like a young girl in the first flush of love, sweet and shy. She had never, not once, smiled at me with such genuine joy. “I know, I know,” she cooed into the phone. “Of course, I’ll protect our baby. You don’t have to worry.” She hung up and started walking in my direction. I ducked back behind the door, my heart pounding, praying she hadn’t seen me. I waited until her footsteps faded down the long corridor before I finally let out the breath I’d been holding. She had been playing me all along. Well, two could play at that game. I spent the rest of the day wandering the city in a daze before finally heading home. I hadn’t even taken off my shoes when she accosted me. “Andrew, what is the meaning of this? Why did you just disappear?” she demanded. “My father is an old man, and he went all the way to the hospital to pick you up, and you just vanish!” I stared at her, my gaze cold and empty. Her tirade slowly petered out as she finally noticed the change in me. “Andrew?” she asked, a note of uncertainty in her voice. “Did you… overhear something at the hospital?” My nails dug into my palms. I was at my breaking point. Her father rushed over, positioning himself between us. “Andrew, let’s all just calm down and talk about this,” he said, his voice placating. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. I had no proof yet. I couldn’t show my hand. “It’s nothing,” I said, my voice flat. “I finished packing and you weren’t there, so I left on my own.” The tension immediately drained from Chelan’s body. A bright, happy smile replaced her worried frown. “Andrew, I have wonderful news. I’m pregnant. We’re going to have a baby.” Her joyful expression was another twist of the knife. A sarcastic smile curled my lips. “Is that so? Congratulations.” Her father looked at me, confused. “What kind of a response is that, Andrew? Aren’t you happy?” He seemed to come to a conclusion. “If you think this isn’t the right time, I can talk to her. We can… take care of it.” Before I could say a word, Chelan cut in, her voice sharp with panic. “No! We’re not getting rid of it.” Of course not. She wouldn’t get rid of Noah’s child. I couldn’t stand to look at her hypocritical face a second longer. I turned to leave. “Andrew, wait,” she said, grabbing my arm. “I know how much you’ve always wanted to see the OPU International Grand Prix. I got us tickets. I thought we could go together.” The OPU Grand Prix. The race where she had tried to kill me. The source of a pain so deep it still ached after all these years. I frowned, torn. A part of me, the part that still lived and breathed racing, wanted to go. But the rest of me… I pulled my arm away without a word and went to my room. I heard her father’s angry voice behind me. “The man clearly doesn’t appreciate it. Why do you even bother? You’re both as stubborn as mules. I’ll never understand either of you.” The next morning, Chelan burst into my room and tried to pull me out of bed. I instinctively recoiled from her touch. I couldn’t stand the thought of her hands on me. She froze, a bitter, hurt expression on her face. “Fine. If you don’t want to go, we won’t go. I won’t force you.” Her voice was small, defeated. “But we need to choose a burial plot for your parents. The funeral is in a few days. I thought… I thought they would like it if we chose it for them. Together.” My parents. Even in death, they had loved her like a daughter. And she was their murderer. Before I could protest, she was tugging at my sleeve, pulling me out the door. “We have to go now, or we’ll be late.” But she had lied. She drove me straight to the racetrack. “Chelan, are you insane? I told you I didn’t want to come!” Before I could finish, a triumphant voice called out from behind us. “Chelan! You said you’d come cheer me on, and you actually did!” Noah. He was wearing a racing helmet, but I could still see the mocking glint in his eyes. So this was what it was about. She was here to see her lover. “You disgust me,” I muttered, and turned to leave. But as I reached the exit, a group of men blocked my path. Before I could figure out what was happening, Noah was there. “Andrew,” he sneered. “You don’t actually think you’re still a racer, do you?” His voice dripped with contempt. “Oh, that’s right, I forgot. Your tendons are shot. The closest you’ll ever get to a race car again is looking at one.” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “And if you can’t handle a car… I bet you can’t handle your wife, either. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her for you. Maybe you can even hand us the condoms when we’re in bed.” My fist clenched, the veins in my arm standing out in sharp relief. He kept talking, but I didn’t hear him. I just kicked him, hard, in the stomach. He staggered back, gasping for air. “You… you hit me? Do you have any idea where you are?” At his signal, the men surrounding me surged forward. They pinned me to the ground, and fists like stones rained down on me. I fought back, but I was outnumbered. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. Suddenly, they backed off. I looked up, confused, just in time to see Noah approaching with a large bucket. “You want to act tough, Andrew? Then die!” Before I could react, he dumped the contents of the bucket over my head. The stench of raw sewage filled my nostrils, and the men around me erupted in laughter, pointing and jeering at my humiliation. “What are you doing?” Chelan came running over, pushing her way through the crowd to stand in front of me. She glared at the men, her voice sharp. “If you touch him again, I’m calling the police!” Noah’s aggressive demeanor vanished, replaced by a look of wounded innocence. He took her hand, his voice soft and pleading. “Chelan, he hit me first. Ask them.” The other racers all nodded in agreement. Chelan’s eyes flickered with indecision as she looked down at me, covered in filth. She instinctively covered her nose, a look of disgust on her face. She quickly realized her mistake and dropped Noah’s hand, but the damage was done. “Andrew,” she said, her voice strained. “You were in the wrong here. You should apologize to Noah.” I spat out a mouthful of blood and laughed. “He cuckolded me and poured shit on my head, and you want me to apologize? In your dreams.” The color drained from her face. “You’re mistaken,” she stammered. “It’s not what you think…” I cut her off, struggling to my feet. I walked away, alone, leaving the roar of the engines and the life I had once loved behind me. It was late when Chelan finally came home. Noah was with her. “Andrew, what is wrong with you?” she snapped, not even bothering with a greeting. “I try to do something nice for you, to help you fulfill a dream, and you just abandon me there. It’s a good thing Noah was there to give me a ride home.” They exchanged a look, a silent, intimate communication that made my stomach turn. I wiped the dried blood from the corner of my mouth and gave them a knowing smile. Just an hour ago, the private investigator I’d hired had called. He had everything. After my parents’ funeral, their time was up. At the funeral, a murmur went through the crowd of mourners. “Who is that? Is he trying to cause a scene?” “You don’t wear that to a funeral. It’s so disrespectful.” I looked up. It was Noah, dressed in a bright, flamboyant red suit. I lunged at him, grabbing him by the collar. “What are you doing here? Get out!” Chelan rushed over, pulling me off him. After checking to make sure he was okay, she turned on me. “What is your problem, Andrew? I invited him. Your parents did a terrible thing. They owe him an apology.” Her words were like a punch to the gut. I was speechless. Noah seized the opportunity. “For those of you who don’t know,” he announced to the crowd, “my parents were driven to their deaths by Andrew’s parents. They got what they deserved.” A collective gasp went through the crowd. My parents were kind, gentle people. They would never hurt anyone. I tried to speak, to defend them, but Chelan clamped a hand over my mouth, silencing me. Seeing the disbelief on the faces of the guests, Noah produced a folded piece of paper. “This is the suicide note my mother left. It says right here that Andrew’s parents were responsible for her death.” As the crowd began to murmur, their expressions shifting from shock to suspicion, I lunged for the note. But Chelan grabbed the back of my shirt, and in the struggle, she lost her footing and fell hard. She clutched her stomach, a pained cry escaping her lips. “The baby… my baby…” Blood was spreading across the fabric of her dress. I remembered what I had overheard the night before: “The baby stopped developing. I’ll take the pills tomorrow. At the funeral, I’ll pretend Andrew pushed me. We can blame the miscarriage on him and sue him for everything he has.” I had been so careful all day, trying to avoid this exact scenario. But she had still found a way to frame me. Her father slapped me across the face, his eyes blazing with fury. “You monster! What are you standing there for? Call an ambulance!” But I didn’t move. She had been plotting against me from the beginning. Now, it was my turn. I didn’t visit her in the hospital. She posted daily updates on social media, complaining about my heartlessness and praising Noah for his devoted care. Her friends all urged her to divorce me, but she would always reply with some saccharine comment about how she couldn’t bear to leave me. The day she was discharged, Noah brought her home. “Andrew,” she said, stepping in front of him as if to protect him from me. “You killed our child. Are you going to hurt Noah now, too? You heartless bastard. Why didn’t you die with your parents?” At the mention of my parents, my eyes narrowed. It was fine. She would be joining them soon enough. “If Noah is so wonderful, then you should be with him,” I said, waving a dismissive hand. She fell silent, a look of confusion on her face. Before she could recover, I tossed a folder onto the table in front of her. “Sign it. A divorce is the best thing for both of us.” Noah’s face lit up. “Chelan, once you’re free, we can get married right away!” That was all the convincing she needed. She grabbed a pen and signed the papers without a second thought. Just as they were celebrating their happily ever after, the sound of police sirens filled the air. I smiled. Their reckoning had arrived.

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