Category: English

My terminally ill boyfriend was the illegitimate son of a wealthy New York dynasty. And I was just a girl who ran a grill at a street food market. Joseph Mendel was frail and sickly, and while I supported him, I always gave him the very best of everything I could afford. But when his family’s twelve Rolls-Royces pulled up to our rundown apartment building to welcome him back into the fold, he abandoned me and took my roommate instead. When a reporter asked him, “Who is this young lady to you?” Joseph replied, “Just the maid who’s been taking care of me.” Later, he became the revered Mr. Mendel, a titan of New York finance, and I turned around and married his arch-rival. On my wedding night, Joseph had me abducted. “Why would you marry that scar-faced monster?” he demanded. “Because he never treated me like a maid.” Joseph sneered. “Is that all you aspire to be?” I nodded. “Yes. That’s all.” 1 The day the Mendel family came for Joseph, twelve Rolls-Royces lined the narrow street to my building. Reporters armed with cameras and microphones had formed a media circus, blocking the entire entrance. I had to abandon my food cart after my shift and walk the rest of the way. My neighbor, Vanessa, saw me and grabbed my arm excitedly. “Stella, you’ve hit the jackpot! Your Joseph is actually a Mendel heir!” “The old man sent a whole fleet to bring him home! You’re going to be living in luxury!” As I stood there, stunned, Joseph emerged from the building, flanked by a crowd of men in dark suits. I had never seen him like this. He wore a perfectly tailored charcoal suit that made him look tall and commanding, exuding an air of aristocratic privilege. He looked like a CEO straight out of a romance novel. And walking beside him was my roommate, Sienna. When Joseph’s eyes met mine, the warmth I once knew was gone, replaced by the cool disdain of a superior. A sharp-eyed reporter pointed his microphone at him. “Mr. Mendel, can you tell us your relationship with this woman?” Joseph’s gaze slid off me, his voice flat and detached. “Just the maid who’s been taking care of me.” A collective gasp rippled through my neighbors. They had all seen me buying things for him, helping him with his physical therapy. They all knew he was my boyfriend. In an instant, every eye was on me, a mixture of pity and scorn. I froze. I looked down at my ten-dollar t-shirt, my twenty-dollar canvas shoes, and felt the bone-deep weariness of my life settle over me. I supposed I did look like a maid. But I had cared for him for five years. Even if he’d just called me his neighbor, I wouldn’t have been so utterly humiliated. He walked toward the lead car. After opening the door for Sienna, he paused as if remembering something and turned back to me. “You took care of me for a long time. Is there anything you want? I can grant you a reasonable request.” Vanessa nudged me. “Quick! This is your chance! Tell him to take you with him!” But I didn’t move. I numbly held up the paper bag from the pharmacy in my hand. “Since you’re not dying, how about you settle the bill for all the medication I bought you over the years? Oh, and living expenses.” “The total is… ninety-eight thousand, six hundred dollars.” I pulled out my phone, my fingers flying across the calculator as I announced the number. A wave of snickers went through the crowd. They were mocking my shortsightedness. With Joseph’s new status, what was a mere hundred thousand dollars? I could have asked for millions, and he would have given it. Joseph frowned, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes, but he quickly instructed his assistant to write me a check. I glanced at it. One hundred thousand dollars. He’d even thrown in a little extra. Sienna, now clinging to his arm, looked at me with a triumphant smirk. “Stella, Joseph is being very generous. But from now on, you two belong to different worlds. I hope you won’t be saying anything… inappropriate about him to anyone.” Joseph’s gaze was hard. “I don’t want anyone to know you and I were ever connected.” I understood. He was ashamed of me. He was afraid I’d tell the media he was my boyfriend. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t. Having a heartless, backstabbing boyfriend isn’t exactly something to brag about. Joseph left. The crowd dispersed. Only Vanessa remained, fuming on my behalf. “Stella, are you an idiot? What are you going to do with a hundred grand? You can’t even buy a decent down payment with that in this city!” My face was pale. “But that’s all he owed me…” Loving him was my choice. Taking care of him was my choice. I had loved the wrong person. I would accept the loss. Vanessa sighed, poking me in the forehead and calling me a fool. Back in the apartment, all of Joseph’s things were gone. So were Sienna’s. The place was a wreck, as if a tornado had torn through it. After working all night at the cart, then making an early morning run to the pharmacy for Joseph’s “medication,” I was exhausted. I collapsed onto the sofa, unable to move. “Meow…” Fatty, my rescue cat, nudged my leg and looked up at me with his big, round eyes. I dragged myself up to feed him, then started cleaning the apartment. That evening, I went back to work as usual. Without Joseph, my expenses were minimal. A hundred thousand dollars could last me for years. But I wanted to buy a home, a place of my own. My grill was the most popular spot in the food truck alley outside the university. The college kids loved my food. That night, a man in an impeccable suit approached my cart. “Five lamb skewers, ten spicy chicken wings…” I was used to serving bright-faced college students. It was the first time a man who so clearly radiated wealth had come to my humble cart. I couldn’t help but stare. He was tall, at least six-foot-three, with a lean, powerful build. He was handsome, with a high-bridged nose and deep-set eyes that gave his face a striking, chiseled quality. A silver Cayenne was parked at the end of the alley, its lights on, a driver waiting inside. My romance-novel-addled brain immediately concocted a story: a powerful CEO buying a late-night snack for his young college student girlfriend. I grinned. “You got it! For here or to go?” I assumed it was to-go and grabbed a take-out container. “Here,” he said, and to my surprise, he found an empty plastic stool and sat down. He ordered over a hundred dollars’ worth of food. I grilled and served, my hands flying. By the time I was finished, I was slick with sweat, and he had devoured every last bite. “This is good,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “How are you with actual cooking?” I blinked, pointing to myself. “Me?” “I’m a decent cook. I went to culinary school before I started this cart.” The man immediately pulled a business card from his suit pocket and handed it to me. “Interested in being my private chef?” I looked at the card. Adrian Hunt, CEO, Hunt Dynamics. My gaze turned wary. “Mr. Hunt, you’re not trying to… you know… hire me, are you?” “Fifteen thousand a month.” “Of course, I know a man like you would never do such a thing! Fifteen thousand, you said? I can start tomorrow!” It wasn’t that I was weak. It was that the offer was too good to refuse. To buy a place in New York City on a food cart vendor’s income? I’d be working until I died. The next day, I went to the address on the card, a sprawling mansion in the suburbs. Adrian Hunt himself answered the door. He was in a gray sweatsuit, clearly just back from a run. He unlocked the wrought-iron gate and led me inside. He was all long legs and broad shoulders, and I had to jog to keep up. The estate was massive. It took us nearly ten minutes to walk from the gate to the main house. I scanned my surroundings, preparing myself for any… unwanted advances. Thump. I walked straight into his back. The impact made my nose throb and my eyes water. “Sorry, Mr. Hunt! I didn’t mean to!” He turned, a look of exasperation on his face. “Do you honestly think I’m going to do something to you?” I looked at him, my voice full of disappointment. “You’re not?” He let out a short, humorless laugh. He raised a hand as if to strike me, then stopped himself. “And stop calling me Mr. Hunt. Take a good look. Do you know who I am?” I squinted at his face. “Nope. Never seen you before.” “Tsk…” “Seriously. I’m a girl who grills meat for a living. How would I know someone like you? You must have me mistaken for someone else.” So that was it. The job was too good to be true. The powerful CEO had mistaken me for someone else. Adrian’s jaw clenched. A dangerous smile touched his lips. “Stella Lane. Say you don’t know me one more time. I dare you.” When a man like that gets angry, the air turns to ice. I shrank back, my eyes fixed on his handsome face. An image flashed in my mind: another face, years ago, ravaged by fire, covered in scars. If you were to remove those scars… The realization hit me like a physical blow. I knew who he was. I turned and ran. The next second, a hand clamped around my wrist, yanking me back. My back hit the wall, and Adrian’s face was inches from mine. He pinned my wrists above my head, his body caging me in. “Run, Stella. I’d love to see you try.” I couldn’t move. The difference in our strength was too great. Before Joseph, there had been someone else. The summer I was seventeen, a new student transferred to our class. His name was Leo Song, and his face was covered in burn scars. The other students were afraid of him. They ostracized him. No one would sit with him in the cafeteria. They called him “Scarface” behind his back. His deskmate demanded a new seat, saying that looking at Leo’s face gave her nightmares. The teacher, at a loss, asked if anyone would be willing to sit with him. His long fingers dug into the edge of his desk, betraying his anxiety. As the silence stretched, I slowly, hesitantly, raised my hand. The class erupted in laughter. “Let Stella sit with him, teach!” “The Trash Girl and Scarface. A perfect match!” Back then, my grandmother, who had adopted me, was still alive. She supported us by collecting recyclables. To help her, I would go through the school’s trash cans after class, collecting bottles. My classmates ostracized me too. They said I smelled. Since the beginning of high school, I had always sat alone. The teacher knew my situation and scolded them, but it was no use. They still called me “Trash Girl.” Now, ignoring their jeers, I clutched the hem of my shirt and asked Leo nervously, “Leo, would you… would you be okay with me being your deskmate?” I was afraid he would be disgusted by the way I smelled. But he nodded emphatically. “As long as you’re not scared of me, I’d love that.” We became friends. He was brilliant, always at the top of our class. He tutored me, and I brought him my grandmother’s homemade rice dumplings. When bullies from another school cornered him, I grabbed a baseball bat and fought them off. When I had no money for lunch, he shared his allowance with me. In our senior year, he asked me to be his girlfriend. He asked me to apply to the same Ivy League school as him. I said yes. But the night before the application deadline, I was working as a waitress at a five-star hotel. I saw Leo there with his family. And with them was a beautiful girl who sat next to him. As their parents went to the restroom, I overheard them talking about how the girl would be accompanying Leo abroad that summer for his reconstructive surgeries. And when they returned, they would be engaged. I felt a crushing wave of inferiority. I went home, changed my university application, and sent Leo a single text: I’ve fallen for someone else. We’re breaking up. Then, I blocked his number and all his social media accounts. No one knew where I went to college. And I never heard from Leo Song again. “If I hadn’t seen you in the background of that news report about Joseph Mendel, I still wouldn’t know you were back in New York,” Adrian said, his voice tight with anger. “The ‘someone else’… it was Joseph, wasn’t it?” I never thought he would remember the lie I told him all these years. I struggled against his grip. “It doesn’t matter who it was. I broke up with you, remember?” “Am I a dog you can just throw away?” he roared. Just then, the front door opened. A beautiful girl in a designer dress walked in. She looked like a princess. I recognized her. She was the girl from the hotel, all those years ago. The girl their parents wanted him to marry. So, he had a fiancée and he was still harassing me? Did everyone think I was a pushover? “Stella Lane?” the girl exclaimed, her face lighting up. “Adrian, you finally found her!” Adrian? What was their relationship? Adrian nodded, gesturing to the girl. “This is Clarissa Mendel. Joseph’s sister.” “And Stella,” he began, but Clarissa had already skipped over and linked her arm with mine. “I know! Adrian’s girlfriend!” I froze. He had told everyone I was his girlfriend? When I was with Joseph, he had been healthy. Then he was in a car accident. He became convinced that the matriarch of the Mendel family was trying to eliminate him, so he started faking his illness to appear non-threatening. I didn’t know. I saved every penny to pay for his check-ups, his medication. Thousands of dollars at a time. I felt that as his girlfriend, it was my responsibility to take care of him, no matter what. But it was all a lie. He was welcomed back into his family, and he told the world I was just his maid. A surge of emotion washed over me as I looked at Adrian. Had I misunderstood him all those years ago? Clarissa leaned in and whispered in my ear, “Adrian may like you, but I’m the one the Hunt family chose to be his fiancée. Take a look at yourself. Do you really think you’re good enough for him now? He’s not the ‘Scarface’ he used to be. But you’re still the girl who stinks of grilled meat.” I flinched and pulled my arm away. Clarissa immediately stumbled backward and fell to the floor, her eyes wide and innocent. “Stella, why did you push me?” My head snapped toward Adrian. This was it. The classic scene from a novel where the innocent heroine is framed by the scheming rival. But just as I braced myself for his anger, Adrian looked down at Clarissa with a complicated expression. “Do you think I’m blind?” he said, his voice flat. “Stella didn’t even touch you. What’s with the drama? I told you not to come here. Now you’re putting on a show in front of my girlfriend?” He took my hand and pulled me into the house, leaving a stunned Clarissa on the floor. The mansion was staffed with servants, but none of them gave me a second glance. Adrian poured me a glass of water himself and told me to sit. “Stella, tell me. That text you sent me all those years ago… it was a lie, wasn’t it? You weren’t in love with someone else.” Yes, and no. The text was a lie. But I did fall in love with someone else later. Joseph pursued me, but I cared for him for five years. There were feelings. I wouldn’t deny what I did, even if it turned out to be a mistake. Clarissa was Joseph’s half-sister. Adrian was not engaged to her. It was all just wishful thinking on their parents’ part. I ended up staying at the mansion as Adrian’s private chef. He gave me a room right next to his. I was a little suspicious. That night, I discovered that the bed in my room had no blankets. I went to find the housekeeper. “Everything for you is arranged by Mr. Hunt personally,” she said, her face impassive. “You’ll have to ask him.” I reluctantly knocked on Adrian’s door. “Come in.” I pushed the door open. He wasn’t in the bedroom, but I could hear the shower running. He was in the shower and he told me to come in? Just as I was about to leave, the bathroom door opened. Adrian walked out, a towel slung low on his hips, his upper body bare and glistening with water. I couldn’t help but stare. I wasn’t a pervert, but his physique was incredible. His chest was broad, his abs were sharply defined, and the lines of his hips tapered down in a way that was almost indecent. And to make matters worse, he was looking at me with a predatory, fox-like gaze. After years of being single, I was not equipped to handle this level of temptation. My nose started bleeding. Adrian was startled. He rushed over, tilted my chin up, and sat me down on the edge of his bed. He grabbed some tissues and gently plugged my nose. “You’re pathetic,” he said, a note of disgust in his voice. “Weren’t you living with Joseph for five years? You’ve never seen this before?” “He wouldn’t let me touch him,” I mumbled, humiliated. It was ironic. Joseph had pursued me, but he treated me like I had the plague. Especially after he got “sick.” No matter how well I treated him, he was always cold. But he was incredibly attentive to Sienna. Once, he kept texting me in the middle of the night, asking me to order him a specific brand of bubble tea. It was expensive. Later, I saw Sienna post a picture of the exact same drink on her social media. I realized he was ordering it for her. I was furious. I came home from work to find Sienna curled up against him on the sofa, both of them playing a video game. I pulled her away and confronted him. “Why do you flinch whenever I touch you, but you let her get so close? Who is your girlfriend, me or her?” Joseph covered his nose. “You come home smelling of grease and smoke every day. It’s disgusting.” “Stella, don’t misunderstand,” Sienna added sweetly. “Joseph and I are just friends. He thinks of me as one of the guys.” That morning, I took the longest shower of my life. I even considered quitting my job. But then Joseph texted me: The medication this month is a thousand dollars. Transfer the money. I was heartbroken. I didn’t send it. He texted again: I knew it. You think I’m a burden. You don’t want to pay for my treatment anymore. Fine. I’ll just go die. I panicked, closed up my cart, and rushed home, only to find the Mendel family’s representatives there to take him away. The reason was simple. The Mendel family heir, Joseph’s older brother, had died of bone cancer. Joseph was now the only male heir of his generation. His grandfather would not allow him to remain an outcast any longer. I thought Adrian would mock me when he heard the story. But instead, his eyes were full of pain for me. He pulled me into a tight embrace. “Stella,” he whispered. “Tell me everything that’s happened to you.” There wasn’t much to tell. I had changed my university choice and gone to a school as far from New York as I could get. In my sophomore year, I met Joseph. He came from a single-parent home and lived on a meager allowance. While his roommates wore designer sneakers, he had worn the same ten-dollar pair for two years. I was already working part-time, not only supporting myself but also sending money home to my grandmother. I was an orphan, abandoned as a baby. My grandmother was the only family I had ever known. Then, one day, she was gone. She was hit by a car while collecting recyclables and died at the hospital. My world collapsed. I had sworn I would give her a life of comfort. She had promised me she would live a long life. How could she break her promise? It was Joseph who took time off school to go with me, to help me with the funeral arrangements, to encourage me to keep going. My grandmother’s settlement was thirty thousand dollars. It all went into my bank account. When we returned to school, Joseph started pursuing me.

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The first time my fiancé’s adopted sister threw a tantrum over her separation anxiety and ruined our engagement party, I laid down the law. I told him if we weren’t married by my twenty-eighth birthday, he would have to choose between her and me. But he was so sure of himself. He knew my dying mother’s last wish was to see me happy, and he was convinced that meant marrying him, her long-time love. So, at our ninth attempt at an engagement party, just before my twenty-seventh birthday, when his sister locked me in a bathroom, put on the wedding dress my mother had made for me, and took my place at the altar, he told me to just endure it a little longer. I watched her in my dress, a placid smile on my face. “She looks quite pretty.” My fiancé, Evan, let out a sigh of relief and reached for my hand. “Don’t worry, I promise I won’t let her cause any more trouble next time. Just be patient.” I smoothly sidestepped his touch. “There won’t be a next time. What I mean is, you two make a perfect pair.” Sorry, but you’re not the only one who can make me happy. 1 Smack. A searing pain bloomed on my cheek. “What on earth are you saying?” Evan’s mother shrieked, her face contorted with rage. “Anyone would think we’re some kind of dysfunctional, incestuous family! Your sister is just having an anxiety attack! She needs her brother’s comfort. It’s just a dress. As her future sister-in-law, you should be more understanding, not spreading vicious rumors that will ruin her reputation!” She shot Evan a look of pure disappointment. “I told you she has no grace. Why would you marry a woman like this? She’ll bring nothing but misery to your sister and me!” Evan’s brow furrowed, his eyes filled with a familiar weariness as he looked at me. He sighed. “Chloe, I just praised you for being so understanding. Why can’t you just let it go?” he said, his voice laced with frustration. “It’s just a dress. She wore it. She walked out in it. So what? We’re the ones getting the marriage license. Does it really matter who stood up there for a silly engagement party? Why are you making such a big deal out of this?” He softened his tone. “Just apologize to my mom and Maya. I’ll be more careful next time.” I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth. I had heard this same speech nine times now. I was so, so tired. “No,” I said, my voice quiet but firm. “I already told you. This wedding is off.” The air grew heavy. All three of them stared at me, their faces grim. Evan looked at me as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Before he could speak, Maya clutched at the skirt of my dress, her voice trembling. “Brother, did I do something wrong? I was just scared… Scared that after you get married, you won’t be close to me anymore. I just wanted a memento. I didn’t mean to ruin your engagement.” I watched their performance, my face a mask of indifference. “You don’t need a memento. If you want him that badly, you can have him.” His mother lunged at me again, her hand raised, but I was ready this time. I stepped back, and her swing met empty air, sending her stumbling and clutching at her lower back. Her eyes burned with hatred. Evan’s face was a canvas of disappointment. “I’ve told you before, Maya developed this anxiety after she was trapped in an empty room trying to save me. She can’t be away from me. Why do you always have to be so difficult about it?” he said, his voice laced with accusation. “If you don’t want to get married, then we’ll wait. It’s not like I’m the one in a hurry.” His words hit me like a physical blow. I froze. He knew. He knew I was rushing to get married before my twenty-eighth birthday to fulfill my mother’s dying wish. And at some point, he had started using that knowledge as a weapon, a tool to force me into submission, to make me apologize, to make me yield. I took a deep breath, turned my back on them, and walked away without another word. At the hospital, I watched my mother through the glass panel of her room. She was so thin, a fragile skeleton of the woman she once was. A nurse was helping her walk, her movements slow and pained. “You’re putting yourself through so much, practicing walking like this,” the nurse said gently. “All so you can walk your daughter down the aisle. But it’s so hard on your body.” My mother smiled through the pain. “It’s not hard… I promised her father I would remember her happiest moment, so I could tell him all about it when I see him again. I’ve waited for this for so many years. What’s a little more pain?” I shrank into a corner of the hallway, tears streaming down my face, my body wracked with silent sobs. Years ago, when my parents were working abroad, they were caught in a mass shooting. They were both hit while shielding an important political figure. My father was killed instantly. My mother was hit with a shotgun blast. She survived, but of the six pellets lodged in her body, only four could be removed. The other two were in locations too dangerous to operate on. Removing them would be a death sentence. As the years passed, the pellets shifted, burrowing deeper, causing her unimaginable, constant pain. She had held on for me, for so long, and I couldn’t even give her this one thing, this one piece of peace. I was useless. I couldn’t even fulfill such a simple wish. I wiped my tears and put on a smile before entering her room. The nurse left us alone. My mother’s weary eyes lit up when she saw me. “How did it go today?” she asked, her voice a hoarse whisper. Looking into her hopeful eyes, I swallowed the lump in my throat. “It went perfectly. Everything’s on track. We should be married by next month.” She let out a breath she seemed to have been holding. But just as the tension left her body, two unwelcome voices echoed from the hallway. Maya stood in the doorway, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Auntie, I am so, so sorry. It was my fault. My anxiety flared up again, and that’s why Chloe and my brother’s engagement didn’t go smoothly.” Then her eyes met mine, and her tone shifted, becoming sickly sweet. “Sister, I know you don’t want to disappoint Auntie, but you can’t use her health to force my brother’s hand. Nothing’s been decided about the wedding yet. My mother is so upset with you she can’t even get out of bed.” She turned back to my mother, her expression a perfect picture of innocence. “But don’t you worry, Auntie. We’ll have it all sorted out before the end of the year. I’ll take my medication, and I promise I won’t cause any more trouble. Just be patient. You’ll see them get married soon.” Her words were sweet, but her expression was pure mockery. In an instant, the smile on my mother’s face froze. Her breathing became ragged and shallow. Her eyes, wide and red-rimmed, fixed on me. “Is it true?” she whispered. I glared at them, my voice shaking with fury. “Who let you in here? Didn’t you hear what I said? I am not marrying him! Are you incapable of understanding simple words?” My mother started to tremble, gasping for air. The monitor beside her bed blared to life, a symphony of alarms signaling her distress. I screamed for a doctor. As the medical team rushed in, my legs gave out from under me. I could only watch, helpless. Maya started to sob hysterically. “I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault. I just wanted to explain, to tell you not to be so impulsive. It’s all my fault Auntie is like this.” I snapped. I slapped her hard across the face, my voice a low, vicious snarl. “My mother is not dead yet. If you want to cry over a grave, go home and do it.” They both stared at me, stunned. Evan’s brow furrowed in disapproval. “Chloe, that’s enough. She didn’t mean it, and she’s apologized. Why are you taking it out on her? Besides, your mother’s health has always been fragile. You can’t blame other people for that.” My eyes, burning with unshed tears, locked onto his. “Get out,” I hissed. “Both of you, get out!” Just then, a doctor rushed out of the room, his face grim. “It’s not looking good. You need to prepare yourselves. We’re taking her into surgery now.” Panic seized me, and I collapsed onto the floor. My gaze fell on the two people who had caused this, the two architects of my mother’s pain. Maya shrank back from my glare, clutching her chest and gasping for air as if she couldn’t breathe. Evan hesitated for a fraction of a second. Then he scooped her into his arms and turned to leave. “There’s nothing I can do to help with the surgery,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion. “I’ll take her home and come back later.” I couldn’t believe he could say those words. But then again, in his eyes, my mother had long ceased to be a person. She was just a tool, a lever he could use to force me to bend to his family’s will. After an agonizing hour, my mother was out of surgery. She was stable. Looking at her tear-streaked face, I knew I couldn’t let her down again. I took a deep breath and dialed a number I hadn’t called in years. “Is your offer still on the table?” “Of course. Anything you want.” I bit my lip. “Marry me. Three years, max. Then you’ll be free.” There was a long silence on the other end. “Done. When?” “Three days. My mother can’t wait any longer. I’ll meet you at the city hall.” With everything settled, I rushed home to pack. The most important thing was my mother’s wedding dress. I had to get it back, intact. I had promised her I would wear it on my wedding day. When I walked in, Evan was pressing an ice pack to the red mark on Maya’s cheek. My eyes immediately locked onto a box on the table. The box where I kept the dress. I breathed a sigh of relief. But when I opened it, the dress was in tatters, a shredded heap of silk and lace. My vision blurred with red. “What is this? Who did this?” Maya, her face still covered by the ice pack, sniffled. “I’m sorry, sister. I didn’t mean to ruin it.” Evan immediately stepped in front of her, shielding her from me. “Don’t scare her. It’s not your main wedding gown anyway. I’ll have a better one made for you. She just accidentally stepped on it when she was taking it off. We had no idea the quality was so poor.” Without a second thought, I slapped him. “You knew my mother poured her heart and soul into making this for me, and you just let her destroy it? Poor quality? I’ve worn it nine times without a single tear, and she rips it to shreds the one time she puts it on? Open your eyes! Those are clean cuts! She took a pair of scissors to it! And you’re still defending her!” A flash of annoyance crossed his face, but he quickly masked it with a weary sigh. “Maybe it was difficult for her to take off, so she had to cut it,” he said, his voice placating. “She’s still young, and she has her issues. Try to be more understanding. It’s just a dress. Let’s not ruin our relationship over it. We’re going to be family soon. How are we supposed to get along if you make a scene over every little thing?” I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. I could taste blood in my mouth. “Who the hell wants to be family with you and your sick, twisted sister? Evan, the biggest regret of my life is ever loving you!” “It’s just a dress,” I spat, my voice dripping with contempt. “A dress in exchange for seeing you for who you really are? A bargain.” At my words, Maya, who had been trembling in the corner, suddenly dropped to her knees. She started hitting herself, her cries escalating. “It’s all my fault! Why did I have to have an attack then? Why do I always destroy things when I’m upset?” she wailed. “Sister, my brother loves you so much! Please don’t leave him! I’ll go! I’m not even a real part of this family anyway! I won’t let my problems ruin your love!” With that, she scrambled to her feet and ran to the open window, climbing onto the ledge. Evan was horrified. “What are you doing? Get down from there!” Maya looked back at him, her face a mask of despair. “As long as I’m alive, I can’t control my attacks! The only way to stop this is if I’m dead!” She was about to jump. Evan was frantic. “No, don’t! It’s not your fault! No one blames you! You’ll always be our family! Chloe doesn’t care about the dress!” He turned to me, his eyes wild with desperation. “Say something!” I just stared at them, my heart a block of ice. “That’s your family’s problem. It has nothing to do with me.” As I turned to leave, Evan’s hand shot out and slapped me across the face. “You are unbelievable!” he roared. “That is a human life! Over a stupid dress, are you serious?” He rushed to the window, not even glancing back at me. “Get down, Maya. I hit her for you. See? It’s okay. Please, get down. If it makes you happy, I won’t get married. We can wait until you’re feeling better, okay?” Maya climbed down, and as she fell into his arms, she shot me a look of pure, triumphant malice. Only then did Evan seem to remember I was there. A flicker of guilt crossed his face. “It was an emergency. You have to understand. You were being so cold. Thank God nothing happened.” My teeth were clenched so tight my jaw ached. All I could see was my mother’s pale, bruised face. I slapped him back, hard. “You knew it was an emergency for her, but what about my mother? When she was having a medical emergency because of your sister, that wasn’t an emergency?” “The first time, she switched out the welcome signs. The second time, she drove her car into me. The third time, she dug up my father’s grave! Are you the only ones who are human? Are my mother and I not?” I was so furious I stormed out without even bothering to pack. He grabbed my arm, his face a mess of guilt, trying to explain. But Maya clung to his other arm, refusing to let him go. He gave me a helpless look and sighed. “She’s having an attack. She can’t be left alone. I’ll… I’ll visit your mother when I have time.” For the next two days, I didn’t leave my mother’s side. Evan never showed up. But my social media feed was flooded with pictures of Maya, smiling and happy, with Evan by her side. I had already given up on him. I blocked them all. On the morning of the third day, I finally got the text I was waiting for. From Liam. I helped my mother get dressed and ready to go out. She looked at me, confused. “Where are we going?” I smiled. “I’m taking you to meet someone. And to do something that will make you very happy.” We took a cab to the city hall. Her eyes widened in surprise. “Why are we here?” I pushed her wheelchair forward. “To get married, of course.” Her expression turned serious. “I want to see you get married, but you can’t just marry a random stranger!” I laughed. “He’s not a stranger. You’ll see in a minute—” I was cut off by Evan’s voice behind me. “I knew you couldn’t stay away,” he said, a smug smile on his face. “All that talk about not getting married was just you being dramatic. Now here you are at the city hall, trying to force my hand.” He took my hand, his grip firm. “Fine. We can get married. But no wedding, no reception. My sister can’t handle it, and it puts me in a difficult position.” As if on cue, Maya started to cry. “Brother, are you really going to abandon me? Sister doesn’t like me. She’ll make you stay away from me.” Evan sighed and patted her head. “You see? My sister is still very upset about what you did. So here’s the deal. You apologize to her, and you write a formal letter promising you will never bully her again.” Looking at his self-righteous expression, I snatched my hand away and walked toward the appointment check-in. “Did I say I was marrying you? Don’t be so delusional.” Evan froze for a second, then let out a cold laugh, blocking my path. “Don’t be stubborn. We’ve been together for years. Who else would you marry? Come on, stop making a scene. Apologize, and we can get the license right now.” I ignored him and asked a clerk to help me check in. Seeing me dismiss him so completely, his face darkened with anger. “I told you, if you don’t apologize, I am not marrying you. I will not allow you to bully my family! I am not going to enable your bad behavior!” he shouted, his voice drawing the attention of everyone around us. “All this time, you’ve been nothing but cruel to my family. What’s so hard about saying you’re sorry? You want to marry me, but you’re not willing to make any concessions. Is that how you think this works?” Maya started to sob dramatically. “Sister, I know you think I’m trying to steal your brother from you, and I don’t blame you for being mean to me. But my illness is real. I really can’t be without him,” she cried. “If you really can’t accept me, then I’ll just die. I would do anything for my brother’s happiness.” Suddenly, I was the villain. Murmurs of disapproval rippled through the crowd. I looked at the two of them, their performance perfectly synchronized, not a shred of guilt on their faces. I wasn’t going to waste my breath. I turned to wheel my mother away, but Evan grabbed my arm. “Where are you going? How long are you going to run from this? I’m telling you, this is your only chance. Apologize to my sister in front of everyone, and I will marry you right now,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “If you walk away, this engagement is over. And when your mother dies, don’t come crying to me for help. I won’t be there.” I trembled with rage. “How dare you say that about my mother? I’m telling you, your entire family will be dead and buried before my mother is! And you think I’d come to you for help? In your dreams!” Evan’s eyes were wide with disbelief. “You’ve really lost your mind! How dare you speak about my mother that way! I’m going to teach you a lesson!” He raised his hand to strike me. I braced myself, ready to call the police the second he touched me. But the blow never landed. I opened my eyes to see a strong, steady hand gripping Evan’s wrist. “My fiancée is not for you to discipline.”

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A text from the real estate agent lit up my phone in the dead of night: “Annie, can you give me your fiancé’s number? I missed my period this month, and I’m starting to get scared.” I glanced at the message, then at my fiancé, Tomer, sleeping like the dead beside me. “You managed to get pregnant but not his phone number? You’re pathetic,” I typed back, my thumb jabbing the screen. Then, with a surge of fury, I kicked him clean out of the bed. 1 I woke up in the middle of the night, my throat parched. As I reached for a glass of water, my phone buzzed with a notification. Who would be texting me this late? I wondered, picking it up. To my surprise, it was Amber, the real estate agent I’d been in contact with recently. “Annie, can you give me your fiancé’s number? I missed my period this month, and I’m starting to get scared.” For a moment, the words didn’t register. I rubbed my eyes, reading it again. And then it hit me like a ton of bricks. My fiancé’s mistress was knocking on my digital door. I looked over at Tomer, who was snoring peacefully, oblivious. In my mind, I was already tearing him limb from limb. “You managed to get pregnant but not his phone number? You’re pathetic,” I typed, gritting my teeth as I sent it. Then, I swung my leg out and shoved him hard. He tumbled out of bed with a startled yelp. jolted from a deep sleep, Tomer scrambled to his feet, his eyes wide with alarm. “What’s wrong? Was that an earthquake? Babe, we have to go!” I just stared at him, my expression glacial. “Babe? What is it?” Seeing my face, he realized the danger wasn’t seismic. It was me. He sighed, cautiously climbing back onto the bed. “What happened? Did you have a nightmare? What unforgivable crime did I commit in your dreams this time?” He tried to pull me into a hug, but I pushed him away. “Don’t touch me,” I said, my voice cold. “Stay right there. I have some questions for you.” Tomer, utterly confused, retreated to the corner of the bed, looking like a kicked puppy. It was a look I knew well, the one he used when he wanted comfort. The thought that this same man, this man who could look so pitifully innocent, would betray me with another woman… Honestly, before today, the possibility had never even crossed my mind. I took a deep breath, about to demand how he and Amber had gotten together, when my phone buzzed again. It was her. Amber: “Annie, I know it’s hard to accept that your fiancé cheated on you. I get why you’re trying to put me down.” “But you need to face reality. Cutting me down with words won’t help you. You can’t keep a man who doesn’t want to be kept. Besides, I’m not trying to cause trouble. I just think the father has a right to know about his child.” “Are you so afraid of him finding out because you know you can’t compete with me?” I’d lived for over two decades and had never encountered someone so utterly shameless. For a second, I was too stunned to speak. Instead, I tossed the phone at Tomer. “Your baby mama’s looking for you. You’d think after knocking someone up, you’d at least get their contact info. Now she’s using me as a messenger.” Tomer, who had assumed my rage was dream-induced, was completely blindsided by the phone hitting his lap and the words “baby mama” hitting his ears. He gave a weak laugh. “Annie, what are you talking about?” He picked up the phone and started reading. As the meaning of the texts sank in, his eyes went wide. “This is slander!” he yelled, jumping up. “It’s defamation! Who is this? I’m going to sue her.” “She missed her period? Maybe she has a hormone imbalance or some kind of illness! How does that automatically mean she’s pregnant?” “Wait, even if she is pregnant, what does that have to do with me? I don’t even know this person!” He looked up at me, his face a mask of wounded innocence. “Annie… do you have another boyfriend?” My first instinct was to scream. The nerve of this man, trying to pin his own mess on me! But then I thought about it. For the past two months, Tomer had been on a business trip with my dad. He’d only gotten back yesterday. He genuinely didn’t know Amber. So why would she claim to be pregnant with my fiancé’s child? Seeing my silence, Tomer’s act grew more dramatic. He looked ready to burst into tears. “You really do have another man on the side, don’t you? You cruel, heartless woman! I’m telling your parents! We’re about to get married, and you’re cheating on me!” He actually pulled out his phone and started scrolling for my mom’s number. I lunged, clamping my hand over his. “Don’t you dare!” “I have to! You have another man! I’m heartbroken! Your parents need to know about this!” He struggled against my grip but didn’t actually hit dial, just stared at me with wide, pleading eyes. I sighed, my anger giving way to confusion. “Something isn’t right here.” I took my phone back and explained the situation to Tomer. We were planning to buy a new house for our wedding, so I’d spent the last two months visiting sales galleries all over the city. Amber was the agent I’d dealt with the most. Our interactions had always been pleasant, though recently, whenever I’d tried to schedule a viewing, she’d made excuses or passed me off to another agent. When her text came in tonight, I hadn’t stopped to think. I’d just assumed she meant Tomer. With that in mind, I sent Amber another message: “Are you sure you have the right person? Do you know who I am? Do you know who my fiancé is?” Her reply was instantaneous. Amber: “Annie Davis. You can’t be hoping I made a mistake. Of course I know who your fiancé is.” “If you don’t believe me, I’ll send you a picture of us. Tomer himself told me I’m way more interesting than you.” A photo appeared on my screen. In it, Amber was pressed tightly against a handsome man. He was grinning from ear to ear, his arms wrapped securely around her waist. But the man in the photo wasn’t Tomer. It was someone we both knew, though. It was Tomer’s cousin, Aidan. That’s when I remembered. When I first started house hunting, Tomer was away on that business trip, so he’d asked his cousin to go with me. But I was picky. It was our first home, after all. After two viewings, Aidan lost his patience. In front of the sales staff, he’d griped about how high-maintenance I was, how I was making a simple task difficult and wasting everyone’s time. I’d bitten my tongue for Tomer’s sake, but I complained to him about it later. After that, Tomer never asked his cousin to accompany me again. I never imagined that in just those two visits, he and Amber had… connected. On my phone, two minutes after sending the photo, Amber unsent it. I didn’t even have time to take a screenshot. “See? I told you it wasn’t me,” Tomer said, a note of triumph in his voice now that he’d seen the picture. I shot him a withering glare. “Right, it’s not you. But it looks like she’s about to become your cousin’s new wife.” Tomer’s brow furrowed. “What new wife? My cousin is married!” 2 He was right. Aidan had gotten married a year ago. He had a wife. And he was sleeping with Amber. A wave of disgust washed over me. I was about to call Aidan and give him a piece of my mind, but Tomer stopped me. “What? Are you going to cover for your cousin?” I asked, my eyes narrowing. Tomer shook his head. “Of course not. But if you call him now, he’ll just deny everything. He’ll probably even flip it around and accuse you of trying to stir up trouble between us.” His assessment told me he knew his cousin’s character all too well. “So what do you suggest we do? Just pretend we don’t know?” I said, feeling deflated. A wicked grin spread across Tomer’s face. “No way. The other woman has come directly to you, the fiancée, to pick a fight. It’s only natural for you to go raise a little hell, isn’t it?” His words made my eyes light up. He was right. Amber had provoked me in the middle of the night. It was perfectly normal for me to be furious. I ignored the stream of taunting messages still coming from Amber, turned off my phone, and went back to sleep. The next morning, Tomer left early for work. I slept in, then took my time getting ready before driving to the sales gallery where Amber worked. She saw me the moment I walked in. A smug smile played on her lips as she watched me storm towards her. Another agent, seeing my thunderous expression, approached me. “Ma’am, is there something I can help you with?” I pointed a trembling finger at Amber, who was standing a short distance away, still smirking. “I’m about to get married,” I announced, my voice loud enough for the entire showroom to hear. “And your employee, Amber, seduced my fiancé! She’s pregnant with his child! Does your company just let its staff destroy people’s families like this?” My voice echoed through the large space. The handful of potential buyers browsing the models all turned to stare. They followed my finger to Amber. I had to hand it to her; anyone bold enough to provoke the fiancée directly had nerves of steel. Faced with the judgmental stares of everyone in the room, her expression didn’t waver. That smug smile never left her face. Amber walked towards me, her smile unwavering. “Honey, if your fiancé did something wrong, you should take it up with him. Why come after me?” “You don’t actually think it’s all the other woman’s fault when a man cheats, do you? You’re a woman yourself. Has it ever occurred to you that the real problem is your fiancé?” Her smile grew brighter as she closed the distance between us. Her shamelessness almost threw me off balance. But I’m no fool, and I wasn’t about to let her deflect the blame with a few well-chosen words. It was clear, however, that some of the onlookers were being swayed. A young woman nearby whispered, “She has a point. Every time a guy cheats, the wife comes and attacks the mistress while the jerk gets to hide. Why not deal with your own man instead of making trouble for another woman?” Hearing this, Amber’s colleagues seemed to gain a bit of confidence. One of them even approached me with a placating smile. “Miss, if your fiancé really did wrong you, perhaps you should talk to him? We’re all women here, why make things hard for each other? At the end of the day, this is all about a man.” More people started chiming in, and my face grew darker by the second. 3 I never thought that I, the victim, would be labeled as some pathetic woman obsessed with a man. As more people took her side, Amber’s confidence swelled. She placed a hand on her stomach and gave me a triumphant smirk. “Honey, I helped you see your man for the cheater he is. You should be thanking me, not causing a scene. You’re being so ungrateful.” I could feel her deliberately trying to provoke me, hoping for an explosive reaction. It was obvious she was an expert at manipulating a situation and shifting the focus. Seeing her increasingly smug expression, I couldn’t hold back any longer. I stepped forward and slapped her hard across the face. “A homewrecker is a homewrecker. Did someone teach you to build a monument to your own virtue after sleeping with another woman’s man?” After the slap, I saw a flash of triumph in her eyes, though her expression immediately crumpled into one of pain and sorrow. She clutched her cheek, her voice choked with emotion. “This world is so cruel to women. It takes two people to make a mistake, but you only come after me.” With that, she transformed into the perfect victim. The other customers and staff immediately rushed to her side, forming a protective circle around her. I frowned, a sudden realization dawning on me. This woman had been pushing me to confront my fiancé from the very beginning. Her goal was to make me fight with the man, so she could swoop in and pick up the pieces. “It does take two,” I said, my own eyes welling up with tears as I put on a performance of my own. “How do you know I haven’t confronted my fiancé? He denies ever knowing you. But you’re the one who texted me in the middle of the night to taunt me. Shouldn’t I come to you?” I grabbed the arm of a girl standing nearby, showing her the messages Amber had sent me last night. “Look at this. Isn’t she deliberately trying to provoke me? My fiancé isn’t even in town. I called him, and he denies everything. My only option was to confront her directly.” “If this is true, I’m calling off the wedding,” I added, my voice cracking. The girl read the messages, and her face twisted in disgust as she looked at Amber. “You’re the one in the wrong, and instead of lying low, you jump out and provoke his fiancée? That’s disgusting.” She then read Amber’s first text aloud for everyone to hear: “‘Annie, can you give me your fiancé’s number? I missed my period this month, and I’m starting to get scared.’” “Wow, the passive-aggression is off the charts. If that were me, I’d be furious too.” The girl read a few more of the messages, and the expressions on the faces of the onlookers shifted. Those who had been standing by Amber awkwardly shuffled a few feet away. Amber hadn’t expected me to play the victim card. Her face paled slightly, but she quickly regained her composure. “I’m just trying to do what’s best for the child in my belly. And besides, I helped you see your fiancé’s true colors. Isn’t it better to find out he’s a scumbag now, before you’re actually married?” She had the audacity to look like she was doing me a favor. I almost laughed out loud. “Don’t you dare say you’re doing this ‘for my own good.’ I’m your client, for God’s sake. If you really cared about my well-being, you wouldn’t have slept with my fiancé. And now he’s calling you a liar and denying you even exist. Why don’t you clear that up for me?” My words seemed to surprise her. “Didn’t you see the picture I sent?” “I didn’t get a good look before you unsent it,” I said dismissively. “Since you claim you slept with my fiancé, show me some proof. After all, you didn’t even manage to get his number.” 4 My taunt seemed to trigger her competitive streak. She pulled out her phone. “I said I didn’t have his phone number. We’re connected on social media.” She opened a chat window. The profile name was ‘Tomer,’ and the avatar was his. I squinted, trying to get a better look, but she quickly snatched the phone back and placed a video call through the app. At that moment, I pulled out my own phone, my heart pounding. Was it possible Tomer had been lying to me? But a second later, the call connected, and the voice that came through the speaker was unmistakably Aidan’s. “Honey, your fiancée is here at my office, making a scene. What do I do? I’m so scared,” Amber cooed, her voice dripping with false fear while her eyes shot me a look of pure provocation. Aidan’s voice, full of disdain, crackled from the phone. “What’s there to be scared of? It’s not like she can eat you.” “But she said you won’t even acknowledge our relationship. You’re not just going to sleep with me and then dump me, are you?” Amber’s voice became even more saccharine, sending shivers down my spine. She completely ignored the disgusted looks from the people around her, her eyes fixed on me, eagerly awaiting my reaction. Aidan laughed on the other end. “Of course not. If Annie hadn’t come along first and gotten the family’s approval, I would have broken up with her a long time ago. Let her make a scene. If it gets too bad, you can quit, and I’ll support you.” Aidan’s voice was loud and clear. Everyone in the showroom heard it. Amber shot me a triumphant smirk. The onlookers now looked at me with pity. The girl who had read my texts aloud stepped forward and put a supportive hand on my arm. I feigned an expression of utter disbelief and lunged for Amber’s phone. She stepped back, still holding the phone to her ear. “What if your fiancée comes to find you?” “Let her,” Aidan’s voice boomed. “I doubt she has the guts. She’s lucky to be marrying into our family.” That was the last straw. Even Tomer wouldn’t dare say something so arrogant. Where did Aidan get the nerve to say I was lucky to be marrying into his family? I was about to open my mouth and let him have it, but Amber, satisfied, ended the call. She looked at me with a mixture of pity and contempt. “It seems you don’t have the courage to confront your fiancé after all, Ms. Davis. Everything you said before was just a lie.” “A woman needs to learn to love herself. If you just cling to a man, one day he’ll let you down. Consider this a lesson from me: men can’t be trusted.” “There’s no point in directing all your anger at me. It’s 2025. When will you learn that when a man cheats, it’s not just the other woman’s fault? Most of the blame lies with your own partner.” “It’s obvious you can’t handle your fiancé. So why not just recognize him for the scumbag he is and walk away?” Her little speech, incredibly, seemed to win over several people in the crowd again. I even saw someone recording a video. “Now that’s what I call a strong female lead,” the person recording muttered. “You guys, this sales agent is amazing. So calm, so clear-headed.” I was so furious I could only laugh. “Are you people insane? Now we’re glorifying homewreckers and calling them strong female leads?” “Getting involved with someone who’s already in a relationship is morally wrong. There’s no excuse. You can’t just say ‘it’s mostly the man’s fault’ and expect to get off scot-free.” “And don’t you stand there acting like you’re my savior. I don’t need you to rescue me.”

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Caleb Reed has a tongue like a scalpel. I’ve always been on the curvier side, and when the sample for a photoshoot—a delicate white lace dress—arrived from the online boutique, he’d smirked. “Are you seriously going to humiliate yourself in that? Anyone who sees you will think a sausage is trying to play dress-up.” I’ve lost count of the number of times Caleb’s words have broken me, but I always convinced myself to let it go. He was devastatingly handsome and outrageously generous, and I forced myself to believe that was enough. Until the incident with the freshman from the debate society, Chloe. The night before the finals, she leaked our entire case file to the opposing team. Normally, this is the kind of catastrophic incompetence that would have had Caleb sneering, asking if her brain was just for decoration. But this time, all he did was toss her a pack of tissues and turn his face away. “What are you crying for? It’s ugly.” 1 Chloe’s sobs were a theatrical performance. “I’m so sorry,” she wailed. “It’s all my fault. Because of my mistake, everyone’s disqualified!” Five minutes earlier, the tournament organizers had officially booted us from the competition. Months of grueling preparation, all of it gone before we even had a chance to step on stage. The air in the hotel hallway was thick with fury. “A mistake?” one of our teammates shot back. “You call that a mistake? Who ‘accidentally’ prints out a dozen copies of our entire strategy and leaves it neatly stacked in front of our opponent’s hotel room?” Chloe’s voice hitched. “I’m sorry… I must have mixed up the room numbers…” That just fanned the flames. “Our rooms are all next to each other! You’re telling me you don’t remember where we are, or even where you are staying?” Another teammate piled on. “Just stop. You could cry a river and it wouldn’t be enough to fill that empty head of yours.” Caleb, who had been leaning against the wall in silence, finally pushed himself off with a sharp sigh. “Dude, your breath stinks,” he said to the guy. “Seriously? You think ganging up on a freshman makes you look tough?” A stunned silence fell over the group. Caleb wasn’t just our star first-chair debater; he was the undisputed king of verbal evisceration. Under any other circumstance, a screw-up this colossal, this blatantly intentional, would have had Caleb coldly dissecting the person’s entire genetic lineage. He would’ve asked, with genuine curiosity, if their parents were siblings. But this time, he just fished a pack of tissues from his pocket, tossed it at Chloe’s feet, and averted his gaze. “It’s done. Crying isn’t going to change anything.” Watching him, my heart pricked, a sharp, thin sting. It felt deeply, uncomfortably wrong. Caleb was sharp-tongued and allergic to comfort. I thought back to the countless times he’d made me cry. He’d stand there, hands shoved in his pockets, impatiently tapping his foot on the ground. “Are you done yet? It was a minor thing. How long are you going to drag this out?” Everyone was now looking at me, the team president, waiting for a verdict. I pushed down the strange, sour feeling in my gut and focused on Chloe. “Whether it was intentional or not, your actions have consequences for the entire team. You’re no longer a member of the debate society. Don’t come to any future meetings or events.” Her eyes widened, fresh tears spilling over. “Claire, I know you’ve never liked me, but everyone makes mistakes! Are you really going to take away my chance to pursue my passion over one little slip-up?” A teammate scoffed. “What passion? You can barely string a sentence together! The only reason you ever got to speak was because Claire gave you her own talking points, and even then you stammered through them and dragged the whole team down!” “And this wasn’t a ‘little slip-up’!” another added. “This was the championship tournament! This was everything! How can you call that a small thing?” Before Chloe could answer, Caleb’s voice cut through the air, low and dangerous. “Enough.” He turned his gaze on me. “Claire, you’re the president, for Christ’s sake. Are you just going to stand there and watch your team bully a freshman?” He raked his eyes over me, a dismissive, head-to-toe scan. Then, he let the final words drop, soft and lethal. “Oh, right. I forgot. You’re leading the charge.” My throat felt like it was stuffed with wet cotton. The sudden, suffocating pressure stole my voice. Thankfully, someone else spoke up for me. “What are you talking about, man? How are we bullying her?” “Claire just kicked her off the team. She’s not pressing charges or getting her expelled. How does that make her the ringleader?” Chloe sniffled, grabbing the sleeve of Caleb’s jacket. “Caleb, it’s okay. I know you’re just trying to stand up for me, but…” She shot a look at me, as if I were some kind of monster, and lowered her head. Her voice was laced with a tragic whisper. “Maybe it’s just because Claire really doesn’t like me.” 2 The night ended with everyone scattering in anger and disgust. Before leaving, Caleb took Chloe’s hand. He glanced back at me, his expression cold as ice. “You’re being petty, Claire. I hope you take a good, long look at yourself.” I watched their retreating figures, a profound sense of confusion washing over me. What did I do wrong? The question echoed in my mind as I walked, zombie-like, back to the apartment Caleb and I shared. Staring at the flawlessly polished floors, a bitter thought surfaced. Caleb was a notorious neat freak, a germaphobe who practically had a “Do Not Touch” sign tattooed on his forehead. He didn’t just keep strangers at a distance; sometimes, even I, his girlfriend, was treated like a contaminant. Unless he initiated it, any attempt I made to touch him was met with a cold recoil. If I tried to hold his hand, he’d pull away. If I did what Chloe just did—tug on his sleeve—he would, without fail, take off the shirt right in front of me and toss it into the trash like it was radioactive waste. I remember once, I was working a late shift at a greasy spoon diner to make extra cash. A couple of drunk guys started harassing me. I called Caleb from the police station, crying, begging him to come get me. When he finally walked in, his face a mask of annoyed indifference, the dam of my composure broke. I threw myself into his arms, sobbing into his chest. “You… you came,” I wept. “Caleb, I was so scared.” He let me hold him for a long moment, waiting until my sobs subsided. When I finally pulled back, he looked down at my swollen, tear-streaked face. I thought, just for a second, that even he would offer a word of comfort in a situation like this. But all he said, his lips barely moving, was, “Claire. Do you have any idea how disgusting you are right now, clinging to me like this?” The memory made fresh tears trace paths down my cheeks. Just then, the front door opened. It was Caleb. Our eyes met before I had a chance to wipe my face. He kicked off his shoes with an irritated flick of his foot and looked away with a sneer. “Unbelievable. Chloe gets torn apart by your whole team and she barely sheds a tear, but you, the instigator, are here crying your eyes out. That’s rich.” My voice was thick with emotion. “She sabotaged months of work for every single one of us. All I did was remove her from the team. Was that really so cruel?” I paused, the frustration that had been simmering all afternoon finally boiling over. “And you… you’re the guy who practically has ‘I can’t stand idiots’ tattooed on your forehead. Why were you so quick to jump to her defense today?” Caleb flinched, then his annoyance flared. “‘Can’t stand idiots’? Can you ever say anything without being dramatic, Claire? What’s wrong with me not wanting to see a group of people tear a girl apart for making one mistake?” I raised a hand to wipe my eyes, but the tears just came faster. “Chloe is a stranger. You can’t bear to see her cry.” My voice cracked. “But what about me? I’m your girlfriend. Am I supposed to just stand by and watch you defend the person who screwed me over?” He let out a cold laugh. “There it is again. Honestly, Claire, I’m impressed. You always find a way to get jealous over the most ridiculous things.” Ridiculous jealousy? A laugh escaped my lips, but it was watery and broken. “You think this is just me being jealous? You think we were bullying her?” I took a shaky breath. “Did you forget that my scholarship doesn’t cover everything? I was counting on that prize money for next semester’s tuition. She didn’t just ruin a competition for us, Caleb. For me, she ruined everything. And all I did was kick her off the team. Was that really so unforgivable?” He was unmoved. “And now you’re playing the victim. How predictable.” He’d seen how broke I was. He’d seen me exhausted and humiliated at my part-time jobs. He knew I’d poured every ounce of my energy into winning that tournament to cover my expenses. And in his eyes, all of it was just an act. Me, playing the victim. All afternoon, I’d been torturing myself, wondering what I did wrong. Now I knew. My mistake was wasting three years of my life on a man like Caleb. I had cried for so long that when I pushed myself to my feet, the room spun. Caleb instinctively reached out to steady me, but then, as if remembering something, his hand froze in mid-air and he pulled it back, clenching his jaw. A desolate smile touched my lips. My voice was raw, numb from crying. “Think whatever you want.” “Caleb, we’re done. Let’s break up.” A flicker of disbelief crossed his face. “You’re breaking up with me? Over something this small?” Then he scoffed. “Fine. You’re the one who said it, Claire. Just don’t come regretting it.” “I won’t,” I said, my voice flat. I refused to waste another second of my life on a cold-hearted man who had never once seen me as an equal. “I’ll get my things and be out as soon as possible. You…” Before I could finish, his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID, a cruel little smile playing on his lips, and answered, putting it on speaker. Chloe’s delicate voice filled the silence. “Caleb? I was out for a run and I think I twisted my ankle. Can… can you come see me?” Caleb’s eyes were locked on me. He smirked. “Sure. Send me your location. I’m on my way.” He hung up and looked down at me, his expression imperious. “Let me make myself clear. I don’t do second chances. If you apologize to Chloe, we can pretend tonight never happened. Otherwise…” I cut him off, meeting his gaze directly. “I did nothing wrong. Why would I apologize to her?” I held his stare. “Chloe’s waiting. You should go.” He scanned me one last time, then spat out through gritted teeth, “Fine. You’re really something else, you know that?” Then he turned and slammed the door behind him.

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The day Kian Richmond was welcomed back by his birth family, my mother took a Greyhound overnight to see him. When Mrs. Richmond offered to thank us for raising him, Mom, terrified of the gesture, only took a single crystal glass from a side table. As we were leaving, I overheard Mrs. Richmond speaking to her housekeeper. “It makes my blood boil, thinking of my son going hungry, living in some leaky tenement. “People like that belong in the gutter, picking through trash.” With my eyes burning, I found Kian to return the glass, but he just shrugged, a picture of indifference. “Keep it,” he said, his voice cool. “Even if it’s just one of my mother’s old mouthwash cups, it’s worth more than you’ve ever seen.” I said nothing. When we got home, I packed a bag, and we disappeared. Years later, I heard a story. That the heir to the Richmond fortune spent five years searching for a poor family, holding a single crystal glass like a prayer. 1 It had been three months since Kian had returned to the Richmond family, and he hadn’t contacted us once. Mom, sick with worry, dragged me onto a bus that smelled of stale air and desperation. After a day and a night of rattling highways, we arrived at the Richmond estate. The sunset bled across the sky, setting the sprawling stone manor ablaze with golden light. When a uniformed maid opened the massive oak door, her eyes swept over us, cataloging our worn jeans and my mother’s faded coat in a single, dismissive glance. I clutched the frayed hem of my shirt, my knuckles white, and looked away. Eleanor Richmond, Kian’s mother, swept out to greet us. She was a woman sculpted from grace and money, with a laugh like the tinkling of a crystal wind chime. “We owe you such a debt of gratitude for taking care of Kian all these years,” she said, her smile perfectly polished. “I’ve been meaning to call, but things have just been a whirlwind.” My mother managed a tight smile, her own voice strained as she tried to match the pleasantry. But her eyes kept darting toward the grand staircase, searching. I knew that look. She missed Kian with an ache that thirteen years of love had carved into her soul. It wasn’t something she could just let go of. “You’re busy, Mrs. Richmond, we understand. I just wanted to see him for a minute, just to know he’s…” Eleanor stopped and graced her with another radiant smile. “I had the staff notify him you were here. Dinner is almost ready. You must stay.” Seated at a long, white marble table, I felt a knot of anxiety tighten in my stomach. Mom squeezed my hand under the table and, from her worn, floral-print purse, discreetly passed me a crushed dinner roll she’d saved from the bus station. A passing maid shot us a curious look before hurrying away. I quickly tucked the roll into my pocket, my cheeks burning with shame. It was a long time before Kian came downstairs. The moment he appeared, Mom was on her feet, rushing to him. “You’ve lost weight.” Her hand hovered near his cheek. “Why haven’t you called? Are you warm enough in just that?” Kian finally lifted his eyes from his phone, a flicker of annoyance in them. He gestured vaguely toward the ceiling. “There’s central air, Mom. And I’ve been busy. I’m training at the company.” The word “Mom” sounded foreign, clinical. She flinched, her hand dropping to her side. She nodded silently and returned to her seat. I stared at the boy sitting across from me, a stranger in a designer shirt. A ghost of memory flickered—my mom taking me to visit a distant relative in a town hollowed out by poverty. Kids my age roamed the streets, fighting over scraps of food like feral dogs. We found Kian in an alleyway, his clothes torn, his eyes vacant. He’d been cornered by a group of older boys. Mom chased them off, then gently cleaned his cuts, wrapped him in her own coat, and gave him the apple she’d been saving for me. As we were about to leave, he grabbed the sleeve of her coat. His small arm was a canvas of purple bruises. My mother’s eyes welled with tears. “As long as I’m alive,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, “you’ll have a place to eat.” And just like that, the three of us—me, my mom, and Kian—became a family. 2 The maids filled the table with a dazzling array of dishes—roasted chicken, glistening fish, platters of things I couldn’t even name. Eleanor Richmond took her seat at the head of the table, her smile unwavering. “Please, eat. I hope you find something to your liking. I’m still trying to figure out Kian’s tastes. What did you usually cook for him?” Mom’s face softened with the memory. “Oh, he’s never been picky. Sautéed potatoes, peppers, green beans… he’ll eat anything you put in front of him.” Eleanor paused, her fork hovering over a slice of duck. “And what about his favorite splurges? A good steak, perhaps?” “He… he was never much of a meat-eater, really.” The lie was so thin it was transparent. Mom’s health was fragile, and just keeping two growing kids fed and in school was a constant struggle. Meat was a luxury we couldn’t afford. Eleanor’s smile didn’t falter, but it lost its warmth. “Is it that he doesn’t like it,” she murmured, her voice laced with honeyed poison, “or that he couldn’t have it?” The question hung in the air, thick and suffocating. The silence was deafening. I instinctively looked at Kian, but he was absorbed in his phone, his thumb scrolling endlessly. I tried to break the tension. “He loves scrambled eggs,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “Mom makes the best.” Before the words had even settled, Kian let out a short, bitter laugh. “Yeah,” he said, not looking up. “It was the closest we ever got to surf and turf.” A memory stabbed at me. Our neighbor’s hen would occasionally leave an egg on our porch, and Mom would always scramble it with fresh green beans from our tiny garden, dividing it into two small, precious portions. I remembered sitting across from Kian, fighting over the last bite in his bowl. I’d pouted, half-joking. “I’m never going to grow if you keep eating my eggs!” Back then, he had laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners with a tenderness that made my heart ache now to remember. “Okay, okay, you can have mine too,” he’d said, pushing his bowl toward me. “Our Chloe needs to eat up. You’ve got to grow taller than me.” I dropped my gaze to my lap, a cold wave of confusion washing over me. Three months. How could three months turn someone you loved into a complete stranger? I couldn’t tell if his words were a cruel joke or his new, bitter truth. Mom placed her fork down and pushed her chair back, pulling me up with her. “We won’t trouble you any longer, Mrs. Richmond. It’s time we were going.” As we stood, the icy mask on Eleanor’s face suddenly shattered into a performance of warm concern. “Oh, don’t be silly! Kian is just teasing. Please, don’t take him seriously. You’ve done so much for him. I insist you take something as a token of our appreciation. Anything in the house, please, choose whatever you like.” The villa was a museum of wealth. priceless art, jade statues, rare orchids in porcelain vases. Any single object could have sustained us for a lifetime. My mother frantically waved her hands, refusing, but the maids had already moved to flank us, blocking our path to the door. Trapped, Mom’s eyes darted around, panicked. Finally, she let me guide her into a quiet, dark side room. On a small vanity table, next to a silver-backed mirror, sat a simple crystal glass. She picked it up, her hands trembling. “This,” she whispered. “This will be fine.” From the hallway, I heard a maid stifle a laugh. “What is it?” Mom asked, her voice shaking. “Is it too valuable…?” A clap of thunder rattled the windows, and the sky opened up in a sudden downpour. Eleanor glided over, patting my mother’s hand with practiced sympathy. “It’s nothing, dear. The rain is much too heavy for you to travel. You’ll stay the night.” 3 The long bus ride had left me exhausted, and Mom was already asleep, her face etched with weariness in the dim lamplight. I’d had too much of the fancy bottled water they’d served and slipped out of the guest room to find a bathroom. As I crept down the silent, carpeted hallway, I heard voices from behind a partially closed door. It was Eleanor. “…and right here on my shoulders. God, it’s just disgraceful. Can you imagine the life my son has lived? He never even had a decent meal.” “You were finally able to bring the young master home, ma’am. That’s what matters. It was too generous of you to offer them a gift.” “Oh, I have a soft spot, I suppose. They did look after him for years. But it makes my blood boil, thinking of him going hungry, living in some leaky tenement. People like that,” her voice dripped with contempt, “belong in the gutter, picking through trash in a bathroom.” “Indeed, ma’am. That’s why I made sure to guide them in that direction earlier.” “You always know what to do, Maria. You’re a treasure.” I froze, my blood turning to ice. A different maid rounded the corner and saw me standing there. “Are you looking for something, miss?” It took a few seconds for my voice to work. I forced a smile that felt like cracking glass. “Yes, could you tell me where the restroom is?” She led me down a small hallway, to the very room where Mom had picked out the crystal glass. My heart sank into a black, bottomless pit. It was a guest bathroom. I remembered how the maids had surrounded us, leaving only one narrow path open. A path that led directly here. The humiliation washed over me, hot and suffocating. I stumbled back to our room, tears blurring my vision, and pulled the carefully wrapped glass from Mom’s purse. Through the window, the garden was illuminated by soft landscape lighting. And there, on the wet lawn, was Kian, jogging in place. A sleek Doberman stood at his side, watching him with rapt attention. I ran downstairs. As I reached the patio, Kian pointed to a distant patch of bushes and whistled sharply. “Go get it, Seven!” The dog shot off, disappearing into the dark foliage and returning a moment later with a small object in its mouth. Kian took it, patted the dog’s head, and then, with a flick of his wrist, tossed it again. This time, it landed in the middle of the ornate fountain with a soft splash. And this time, I saw what it was. A small, hand-stitched rag doll. Kian sighed in frustration and turned. His eyes met mine. My entire body started to shake, and the tears I’d been holding back finally broke free. The thing he had just thrown away like garbage was the 18th birthday present I had made for him.

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1 I was softly reading a bedtime story to Mr. Hayes’s autistic daughter when his long-lost love burst through the door. Her eyes darted between the two of us, and then she strode forward. Just as I thought she was going to embrace her child, she swung her hand and slapped me hard across the face. “You shameless bitch,” she hissed. “I’m gone for a few years, and you slide right in, sleeping with my husband, stealing my daughter.” “You think because you look a little like me, you can be my replacement? Steal everything that’s mine?” I cupped my stinging cheek, utterly bewildered. A replacement? Me? Wasn’t I just the occupational therapist Mr. Hayes had hired to care for his autistic daughter? … The sharp crack of the slap terrified little Pearl. On the verge of sleep, she let out a piercing wail. My professional instincts took over. I ignored the raving woman in front of me and immediately gathered Pearl into my arms, murmuring soothing words. Pearl had been diagnosed with autism at birth. She formed no attachments, showed no interest in anyone. The only time she seemed to find any comfort was in my arms. It was why her father, Mr. Hayes, paid me a generous salary to be her full-time therapist and caregiver. Under my gentle coaxing, Pearl’s cries gradually subsided. But the woman, ignored and enraged, lunged forward, trying to rip Pearl from my arms. “I carried you for nine months! You’re my daughter! How could you attach yourself to a cheap substitute? I’m your mother!” She was hysterical, almost feral. Autistic children are far more sensitive to emotional turmoil than others, and Pearl, who had just calmed down, began to spiral again. That’s when my patience ran out. Even if this woman was Pearl’s biological mother, Mr. Hayes’s infamous “one that got away,” I couldn’t tolerate this. I shielded Pearl from her grasp and pressed the emergency call button in the room. Within moments, the butler and Mr. Hayes himself rushed in. “Mr. Hayes,” I said, my voice firm and loud, “this woman is trying to harm Pearl.” Instinctively paternal, Elias Hayes rushed to his daughter’s side, placing himself between us and the intruder. But when he saw the woman’s face, his eyes instantly reddened. His voice was a raw, choked whisper. “Seraphina… you’re finally back.” His hands trembling, Elias took Pearl from me and held her out to the woman, Seraphina, wanting her to hold their child. But Seraphina didn’t move. She turned her head away, her face a mask of wounded pride. “I don’t have a daughter who would betray me like this.” Then she rounded on him. “And you! You told me you would love me and only me for the rest of your life!” “I’ve only been gone for six years… and you’ve already replaced me with another woman. One who looks just like me!” Elias looked uncertainly from Seraphina to me, then back again. I couldn’t see the resemblance, other than the fact that we both had two eyes, a nose, and a mouth. “You’re still looking at her!” Seraphina shrieked. “If you’re choosing her right in front of my face, then I’m leaving!” With that, she burst into tears and ran for the door. Elias panicked. He shoved Pearl back into my arms and chased after her. I could hear his desperate explanations from the hallway. “Seraphina, darling, wait! Kristin is just a nanny I hired to take care of our daughter.” “She’s not a replacement, I swear. Now that you’re back, we can be a family again. Please?” “Darling…” Half an hour later, Elias led Seraphina back into the room. She shot me a triumphant smirk. “You’re fired.” Before I could say a word, Elias jumped in. “Honey, I just explained this to you! Our daughter can’t be without her.” Seraphina’s face crumpled, the tears returning instantly. “Elias, I don’t blame you. It was my fault. I was selfish to leave you and the baby to go abroad. I don’t blame you for finding a substitute.” “But I’m back now,” she sobbed. “Our daughter needs me. And so do you…” Elias hesitated. He knew Pearl needed me, but he couldn’t bear to lose Seraphina again. He looked at me, his expression torn. “Kristin, why don’t you take the rest of the night off? Go home.” I pointed to my still-red cheek. “Your wife slapped me. That counts as a workplace injury.” Elias tapped a few things on his phone. A notification popped up on mine. He had just transferred the deed to a luxury apartment in the city center into my name. My attitude changed instantly. I handed Pearl back to him and bowed respectfully. “As you wish, sir.” As I left, Seraphina stood with her hands on her hips, puffed up like a victorious rooster. I was too busy dreaming of my new apartment to care. Besides, I hadn’t had a proper rest since I’d started working with Pearl. That night, deep in a dreamless sleep, my phone rang. 2 I groggily assumed it was Mr. Hayes, but when I squinted at the screen, I saw it was my best friend, Amelia. The moment I answered, a tirade of curses assaulted my ear. “Elias Hayes’s wife is a certifiable lunatic!” she yelled. “She calls me in the middle of the night, says Pearl is having an episode and you’re not available, so I have to go over. The second I walk in, she starts bawling about how Elias didn’t just find one replacement for her, but two!” “I go to their house maybe twice a year, and always with you! How the hell did I become a substitute mistress trying to seduce her husband?” “And we look nothing alike! I asked her why she thought I was a substitute, and you know what she said? She said our names both have ‘ia’ at the end! Seraphina, Amelia… I…” I held the phone away from my ear as she unleashed a string of creative insults. Amelia was a leading expert in autism spectrum disorders. She was the one who had recommended me to Elias in the first place. But unlike me, who came from a humble background, Amelia was an heiress from a family even wealthier than the Hayes. “Did she forget I was at her wedding?” Amelia continued, her voice still raised. “She seemed normal enough then. What happened?” “Anyway, I told that crazy bitch where to stick it and left. I just feel so bad for Pearl… When I left, she was just staring into space again. She had made so much progress with you…” Amelia sighed, then her voice grew serious. “Listen, Kristin. The rumor was always that Seraphina left because she couldn’t handle having an autistic child. Elias is going to call you again. But don’t be a pushover. You get involved with crazy like that, you’ll never get out.” Sure enough, half an hour later, my phone rang again. It was Elias. His voice was frayed with exhaustion. “Kristin, I’ll double your salary. Please, come back now. Pearl won’t stop crying. I don’t know what to do.” Ten thousand a month, doubled to twenty. I gritted my teeth, threw on a coat, and rushed out the door. When I arrived at the Hayes mansion, however, I didn’t hear any crying. Instead, I heard Seraphina’s sugary voice. “See, darling? I told you. I’m her mother. Of course she needs me most…” Then she saw me standing in the doorway. Her voice sharpened. “What are you doing here again?” “I knew it! You haven’t given up! You’re still after my husband! But I’m telling you, the original is back, and there’s no room for a cheap copy in this house!” It was three in the morning, and the house was lit up like it was daytime. The entire household staff was lined up in the foyer, bleary-eyed and resentful. After Seraphina’s latest outburst, their expressions of weary contempt were impossible to hide. She saw it. She pointed a trembling finger at the butler. “You! You think she’s going to replace me, don’t you? That’s why you’re sucking up to her!” “You probably told her she was the first woman Elias ever brought home, didn’t you? Playing matchmaker for them!” The butler looked mortified. Everyone knew Elias had a wife and an autistic daughter. Countless female therapists and specialists had been in and out of this house. “First woman”? It was absurd. Seraphina, getting no reaction, turned her wrath on the head housekeeper. “And you! I bet you told them how you’ve never seen Mr. Hayes smile so much, didn’t you?” The housekeeper looked equally baffled. The Hayes Corporation was doing well, and Pearl’s condition had been improving. Of course Elias was smiling more often. The staff were trapped, but I wasn’t. “Mr. Hayes,” I said, my voice cold. “If you called me here in the middle of the night to watch this circus, then I’m afraid I’m leaving.” Elias rubbed his temples, looking utterly drained. “When I called you, Pearl was having a terrible meltdown. But… Seraphina managed to calm her down. She’s asleep now.” “I’m sorry for dragging you out here tonight. Don’t worry, I’ll pay you three… no, five times your overtime rate.” Seraphina clung to his arm, looking at me with a possessive glare, as if to say, you’ll never be me. But when she heard about the five-fold overtime pay, she lost it again. “Elias! That’s our money! I don’t approve—” I wasn’t listening. All I could hear was that Seraphina had calmed her down, and she was asleep. Pearl had always struggled with sleep. It was impossible for her to fall asleep in just a few minutes. I shoved past them and ran to Pearl’s room. I gently shook her. “Pearl, wake up. Wake up.” The child was completely unresponsive. Seraphina followed me in, her voice dripping with scorn. “I know this is hard for you, Kristin. You thought you could use my daughter to manipulate my husband. But as you can see, a mother’s bond is stronger…” I shot up from the bed, grabbed her by the wrist, and roared, “What did you give her?” Startled by my ferocity, she blurted out the truth. “I… I just gave her a few sleeping pills…” 3 My eyes turned bloodshot. “She’s not even six years old! You can’t give her sleeping pills! I thought you were just crazy, but you’re a monster!” Before Seraphina could reply, I scooped Pearl into my arms and ran for the car. “We need to get her to the hospital, now!” Seraphina grabbed Elias’s arm, her own eyes red with tears. “Darling, I just wanted her to get some sleep…” This time, Elias didn’t even look at her. He started the car and sped away. We got to the hospital just in time. They pumped her stomach, and she was out of danger, but she would need to be monitored for a few days. Looking at Pearl’s pale, small face, the dark circles under Elias’s eyes seemed to deepen. He formally apologized to me and begged me to stay at the hospital with Pearl. “Don’t worry,” he promised. “I’ll talk to Seraphina. The child is innocent. Please don’t let our issues affect how you care for her.” He was a man of his word, and another million dollars appeared in my bank account. I was instantly re-energized. “Mr. Hayes, you can count on me. I will treat Pearl as if she were my own daughter.” The next few days at the hospital were surprisingly peaceful. Then Amelia called. “You’re not going to believe this. Elias and Seraphina made up. Apparently, he was going to divorce her, but she threatened to kill herself, so he backed down.” “What did she do that was so bad that even a lovesick fool like him was ready to leave?” I told her about the sleeping pills. Amelia offered another round of colorful curses directed at Seraphina’s entire family tree. “Just be careful,” she warned. “I heard the Hayes are throwing a big party for Pearl’s sixth birthday. It’s supposed to be Seraphina’s official re-entry into society as Mrs. Hayes. And she’s the one planning it.” I figured a simple therapist wouldn’t be invited, so I didn’t think much of it. But on the day of the party, Pearl wouldn’t let go of my hand. After the hospital stay, she had become even more attached to me. “Kristin, please join us,” Elias said. Seraphina, her hand linked with his, gritted her teeth but, for once, didn’t say anything. The party was in full swing, a sea of clinking glasses and polite conversation. I saw Amelia and went over with Pearl in my arms. “It looks like the divorce threat finally knocked some sense into Seraphina…” I hadn’t even finished my sentence when we were grabbed from behind. Three men dressed as waiters brandished fruit knives they’d hidden under a table. One arm locked around my neck, the other held a blade to my throat. The same for Amelia. I was still holding a child. Fortunately, Pearl didn’t seem scared. She just looked around with wide, curious eyes. The sudden violence sent the other guests scattering in panic. Then, Seraphina’s delicate voice cried out, “Darling, save me!” She had been “kidnapped” too? Elias moved against the tide of fleeing guests, his voice calm and steady. “What do you want? Money? A car? A helicopter? Just let them go, and I’ll give you anything.” The lead kidnapper let out a theatrical cackle. “To think the great Elias Hayes would one day be begging me! But I don’t want any of those things. I just want the woman you love most to die.” “You have to choose one of them to live. The other two die.” At his words, Amelia, Elias, and I all frowned. Only Seraphina continued to scream hysterically. “Elias, save me! You promised you would always protect me!” Amelia rolled her eyes. “Wait, if he’s after the woman Elias loves most, why am I here?” “Everyone knows you and Kristin are the substitutes,” the kidnapper sneered. “Let’s see who our Mr. Hayes will choose. The original, or one of the copies? This is going to be so exciting!” Hearing the familiar “substitute” theory, we all instinctively looked at Seraphina. Who else would come up with something so insane? “Elias,” she whimpered, “you don’t believe him, do you?” Before Elias could answer, the kidnapper dragged the knife across my cheek, drawing a thin line of blood. “No talking! Choose, Mr. Hayes!” The blade moved to Amelia’s face. “Choose, or this pretty face gets ruined too.” Amelia roared a string of curses at Elias, then threatened, “Elias Hayes, if anything happens to me or Kristin, I will personally see to it that your family goes bankrupt.” Pearl, sensing the rising tension, started to wail. Seraphina was still crying, “Elias, save me!” “Everyone shut up!” the kidnapper yelled. “You have five seconds, Hayes.” “Five.” “Four.” “Three.” “Two.” “One.” “Wait!” Elias yelled. “I choose…”

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1 For ten years, Nina and I were the industry’s most notorious couple—and it was all an act. If she dined with a male co-star, I flipped the table. If she filmed a kiss, I’d storm the set. I fueled endless negative press to keep her in the spotlight, watching her rise to stardom while I became the most hated man in Hollywood. It ended when she was photographed checking into a hotel with Felix, the new heartthrob. She issued one statement: 【It’s real.】 Fans celebrated but warned Felix: “Watch out for Leo, that psycho.” Felix mocked me on live: “A good dog knows its place. It doesn’t bite its master.” Then Nina texted me: 【Don’t act this time. The brand wants us to play up our relationship. Be good.】 I laughed coldly. She’d forgotten one thing: I, Leo Ashworth, am competitive. I hold grudges. I repay every debt. The psycho was never an act. … When I crashed Nina’s lovey-dovey livestream, the host was in the middle of a question. “Nina, what are your thoughts on the rumors that you and Leo Ashworth have a toxic, on-again, off-again relationship?” “We are not in a relationship.” Nina’s voice was as cool and placid as ever. With one sentence, she severed our ten-year history. The live chat erupted with comments praising her for being so direct. Just then, the host spotted me striding onto the set. In an instant, every camera swiveled and zoomed in on my face. I met their lenses with a dead-eyed stare. Fresh scratches from my latest manufactured brawl marred my cheekbone. The fight had been simple: Nina didn’t want to film a kissing scene with some rising star, so I’d shown up and made a scene. She shot to the top of the trending topics again, her new drama a guaranteed hit before it even aired. I, on the other hand, spent the next two weeks being hounded by the press and had my head split open by a rock thrown by an extremist fan. Seeing me, a flicker of panic crossed Nina’s usually unflappable face. Her brow furrowed, a wall of defense rising in her eyes. “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, instinctively moving to shield Felix who was sitting beside her. I just stood there, and the entire studio tensed, treating me like a bomb about to detonate. The live chat on the massive screen behind them scrolled with derision. 【OMG, the real couple makes it official and the psycho ex actually shows up? Look at his face, all scratched up. He’s here to make a fool of himself.】 【Did you see how Nina instinctively protected our sweet Felix!! I’m shipping it so hard! The psycho is just embarrassing himself!】 【Can someone get security? She already denied their relationship on live TV. Why is he still clinging to her? It’s pathetic.】 【Seriously, can this infamous industry troll stop leeching off Nina’s fame? Every time he goes crazy, it’s terrifying. He’s probably abusive IRL.】 Somewhere along the way, my name had become synonymous with “psycho.” I didn’t argue. I just repeated her words back to her, my voice low and dangerous. “Not in a relationship?” It was half-question, half-accusation, laced with the bitter sting of a decade of sacrifice. She had promised me she would never be close to another man. Nina met my gaze with that same infuriatingly calm expression, effortlessly sidestepping the weight of my question. “Leo, just look at the state of yourself,” she said, her tone dripping with disappointment. “Stop demeaning yourself like this. Go home.” Her composure was a stark contrast to my raw, unhinged presence. The live chat immediately exploded with praise for Nina’s grace and compassion, lauding her for giving even a “maniac” like me a dignified exit. She accepted their praise without a hint of irony. After playing a part for so long, she seemed to have forgotten who it was that had thrown his dignity away to build her this “unhinged protector” persona in the first place. A deep, unforgiving chill began to spread through my chest. The internet trolls had one thing right. I was a mad dog. And everything she had today, she’d gotten by standing on my back. I deserved an explanation. But before I could speak, Felix, the boy she was protecting, shot to his feet, placing himself firmly between us. He snatched a teacup from the table and flung its contents into my face. “That’s enough!” he cried, his voice trembling with manufactured bravery. “Stop harassing Nina!” The scalding liquid hit the open scratches on my cheek, and a thousand tiny needles of pain erupted across my skin. I winced, my jaw clenching. Felix, dressed in a simple white T-shirt, looked heartbreakingly fragile and defiant as he stood with his arms spread, shielding his damsel. Nina saw my pained reaction and instinctively leaned forward, about to check on me, but Felix’s next words stopped her cold. “The tea is lukewarm,” he declared, his voice ringing with certainty. “You can act all you want, but no one’s going to pity you. We all know what kind of person you are!” Hearing his confidence, Nina’s expression hardened again. “Are you still acting?” she snapped at me. “Was I not clear enough?” My face was flushed red from the hot tea, but she didn’t seem to see it. Or care. The chat went wild with praise for Felix. 【Our boy Felix is so amazing, bravely standing up to the industry’s biggest bully!! That tea splash was ICONIC!】 【It’s always the psycho beating up on others. Finally, someone puts him in his place. Felix, our little angel of justice!】 【He was literally shaking with fear but he still protected Nina. Tell me they aren’t the real deal!】 【But won’t the psycho retaliate? He’s famous for getting revenge…】 【No way! Felix is protected by Orion Enterprises. Every big shot in the industry has to treat him with respect. Leo is just a D-list celebrity famous for being trash. If he touches a hair on Felix’s head, the corporate overlords will crush him!】 Nina’s disgust was palpable. “Leo, stop this. Can’t you have a shred of dignity?” My heart plummeted. “Nina,” I asked suddenly, my voice hollow. “Do you know how many scars are on my body?” She blinked, caught off guard. “What?” “Fifty-nine.” For ten years, playing the part of the mad dog, I had chased away every man who got too close. She didn’t want to drink with producers, so I crashed the dinner and started a fight. She didn’t want to do a promo livestream with a co-star, so I smashed the set. She rode the wave of controversy I created all the way to the top, becoming a household name. In return, their crazed fans took their revenge on me. They put needles in my water bottle. They threw rocks at me on the street. The longest scar on my body came from a stalker who stabbed me in an alley. She used to cry when she saw those ugly marks. Now, all she could talk about was dignity. Ten years. Fifty-nine permanent reminders of my devotion. What the hell was dignity? I’d forgotten long ago. Seeing my silence, Nina grew impatient. “What does that have to do with anything? It’s your own fault for being so extreme.” I stared at her, taking a slow step forward. “You’re right,” I said, my voice dangerously soft. “And since you know how extreme I can be, you should also know I’m not the type to suffer in silence.” Realization dawned on her face. She moved to shield Felix again, her voice rising in alarm. “I told you, don’t you dare touch Felix!” When I didn’t stop, she finally played her trump card. “Felix is with Orion Enterprises! Do you want to throw your career away? They’ll have you blacklisted!” I finally stopped. The live chat lit up with mockery. 【See? Felix is the golden boy of the corporation. I knew he wouldn’t dare!】 【No one who messes with Felix in this industry gets away with it.】 Felix saw me hesitate and puffed out his chest, a smug look on his face. “Now you get it. Get on your knees and apologize, and I might forgive you.” My eyes scanned the set, landing on a decorative bottle of red wine on the table. In the next second, without a flicker of hesitation, I snatched the bottle and brought it crashing down on his head. “Orion Enterprises?” I sneered as his eyes rolled back in his head. “You? You’re all nothing.” The bottle was a sugar-glass prop, but the shock was enough to make Felix faint on the spot. Nina, without a backward glance at me, rushed him to the hospital. The clip of me assaulting him went viral. My agent’s call came minutes later, his voice dripping with fury. “Do you have any idea who you just touched? Felix is the heir to Orion Enterprises! Not even I can protect you this time!” he screamed down the line. “Your reputation is destroyed! The breach of contract penalty is three million dollars! You couldn’t afford that if you sold your own organs!” “Your only option is to apologize. Beg for his forgiveness. Otherwise, you’re on your own!” Nina had recommended this agent to me. I knew those words were coming straight from her. The last bit of warmth in me died. I hung up without a word. If any of them had a single working brain cell, they might have wondered why, after ten years of offending countless celebrities, not one had ever truly come after me. It wasn’t because they didn’t want to. It was because they didn’t dare. I took a deep breath, opened my messaging app, and sent a text to my family’s group chat. 【Dad, I’ve thought it over. I’m ready to come home.】 I went back to the villa Nina and I shared to pack my things. When I opened the door, I found Felix standing there, wearing my pajamas. He flinched when he saw me. Then, as if remembering his position, he straightened up, deliberately tilting his head to show off the faint, suggestive marks on his neck. “Oh, hey, big brother. Sorry about this. I didn’t realize you two were a real couple. After I got hurt, the investors insisted I stay here with Nina to recover. It’s all for the cameras, you know.” He smirked. “Nina needs my popularity to get an invitation to the Film Guild Gala. Your kind of infamy would only drag her down.” I shot him a withering glare, having no interest in his games. “Get out of my way.” I brushed past him and went to my bedroom. The minimalist space I had designed was gone. In its place were trendy, garish furniture and graffiti-covered walls. I froze, then frantically scanned the room for the picture frame that always sat on my desk. It was the only photo I had of my late mother. A voice came from behind me. Felix was leaning against the doorframe, dangling something from his hand. “Looking for this?” It was the frame. “Give it back,” I growled, striding toward him. He gave me a sly, knowing smile. Just as I reached him, he let his hand go slack. The frame dropped, shattering on the hardwood floor. “Oops,” he said with fake innocence. “My bad, brother.” Then, he ground his heel onto the photograph itself. “I heard your mom died a long time ago. Who keeps a picture of a dead person in their room? So morbid.” A murderous rage surged through me. I raised my hand to strike him, but before my palm could connect, Nina, who had just arrived, grabbed my wrist. “Leo, have you completely lost it?!” she yelled. “I already told you, Felix and I are just business partners! Why are you so jealous of him?!” Felix peeked over her shoulder, a triumphant smirk on his face. My eyes flickered from Nina’s disgusted expression to the shattered photo on the floor. I took a deep, steadying breath. “Nina,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “We’re done.” She stared at me, stunned into silence. I took the opportunity to yank my hand free. In one swift, brutal motion, I grabbed a fistful of Felix’s hair. “Now,” I said, my voice as cold as the grave. “It’s time for you and me to settle our accounts.” Felix shrieked in pain. “Nina, help me! Mr. Hayes and the media are coming to interview us! Don’t let this lunatic ruin your career!” Nina snapped out of her shock, her face paling with panic. “Leo, stop! I let your other tantrums slide, but if you make a scene in front of Mr. Hayes, your career is over!” “Nina, I played the part of a maniac for you for ten years,” I said, my voice dripping with ice as I slapped Felix hard across the face. His cheek instantly swelled. “What career do you think I have left?” “That,” I snarled, “was for touching my things.” I yanked his head down, preparing to grind his face into the shards of broken glass on the floor. The first rule I learned growing up in the Ashworth family was simple: if someone throws mud at you, you shove their face in the swamp. Fear breeds respect. As I expected, Felix started sobbing. “Are you crazy?! I’m sorry… I was wrong, I was wrong! Please, don’t ruin my face!” I felt nothing. People should pay for their actions. But in the next second, Nina shouted for her bodyguards. Several large men rushed in, grabbing my arms and pinning me. “Enough! How long are you going to keep this up? You’re acting like a hysterical shrew. You’re nothing like the man I used to know.” “He destroyed the only photo I have of my mother, and you think I’m in the wrong?!” I roared, my eyes red with fury. Nina paused, turning to Felix. “Is that true?” “I was going to give it back to him, I swear!” Felix whimpered, burying his face in Nina’s shoulder. “But he came at me so aggressively, I got scared and dropped it…” Nina’s heart immediately softened. The look she gave me was filled with revulsion. “So this is your own fault, then,” she said coldly. “Now, apologize to Felix.” I gritted my teeth, refusing to speak. At her nod, the bodyguards dragged me forward and forced me to my knees in front of him. “Brother, I’m not a bully like you,” Felix said, looking down at me, his voice dripping with false magnanimity. “Just get on your knees, bow your head, and apologize, and I’ll forgive you.” He placed his expensive leather shoe on the back of my hand and pressed down. A sharp, grinding pain shot up my arm. I met his gaze and let out a cold laugh. “You better pray I never get my hands on you again. Because when I do, I’m going to break your fucking leg.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384583”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I went to my ex-boyfriend’s apartment, ready to beg him to take me back. It had only been a week since we’d broken up. I pushed the door open and found him leaning down, kissing someone else. The girl was wearing my silk nightgown. And she wasn’t just anyone. It was Iris. My roommate for all four years of college. Just last night, back in our dorm room, Iris mentioned she might be moving out. She said the guy she’d been crushing on for ages had finally asked her out and wanted her to move in with him. I was such an idiot. I’d actually congratulated her, happy that her dream was coming true. I never imagined that her new boyfriend was Joss, the man who had just broken my heart. He certainly didn’t waste any time moving on. A seamless transition. I stood frozen in the doorway, the world tilting on its axis. Iris saw me first. “Ava?!” she gasped, her eyes wide. Joss looked up. The moment our gazes locked, a flicker of surprise crossed his face, but it was quickly replaced by a cold, unnerving calm. He straightened his shirt and walked toward me, his shadow falling over me as he looked down. “What do you want, Ava?” My eyes were glued to the raw, red mark on his collarbone. A knot formed in my chest, tight and suffocating, stealing the air from my lungs. The words I’d practiced, the pleas for a second chance, died on my lips. Iris came over, offering a small, apologetic smile. “I didn’t have a nightgown, so I borrowed yours. Hope you don’t mind.” My head buzzed, a low hum of white noise. She saw my silence and rushed to explain, her voice a little too bright. “Ava, don’t get the wrong idea. Joss and I only got together after you two broke up.” Watching her scramble to prove her innocence, I felt like a fool. A clown in a tragedy of my own making. It took me a moment to find my voice, to cobble together a brittle excuse for being there. “I still have some things here,” I said, my voice flat. “I came to pack.” Joss was silent for a beat, his expression unreadable. “Fine. Come in.” It was only when I stepped inside that I understood his silence. The succulent I’d potted with my own hands was gone from the windowsill. In the bathroom, our matching toothbrush holder had been replaced. The curtains, the bedsheets, the duvet cover—all of it had been swapped out for the muted grays and blues that Iris loved. Even the framed photo on the nightstand, a picture of Joss and me as kids, had been replaced with one of Iris. There was nothing for me to pack. This little apartment, the home we had built together, was no longer mine. It had been scrubbed clean of me. All in one week. One single week. Everything I owned had been crammed into a single suitcase and shoved in a corner of the balcony, gathering dust. My dog was out there, too. The hot, sticky air of the summer night wrapped around me, making it hard to breathe. I squatted on the cluttered balcony, staring at Ricky, who was slumped listlessly in his cage. We found Ricky, a stray, on the day of our first date. Joss had named him, wrapping his arms around me from behind and whispering with a wicked grin that every time I called the dog’s name, I’d remember the thrill of our first kiss. But that was all gone now. “Ricky,” I whispered. His floppy ears twitched and then shot up. When he saw it was me, he let out an excited little whine, his whole body wiggling as if he wanted to leap into my arms like he always did. Realizing he was trapped, he sat back down, his tail thumping against the cage in a frantic rhythm. A sharp sting hit the back of my nose, and the dam of emotions I’d been holding back finally broke. I stormed back into the living room. “I don’t care about the other stuff, but you know Ricky was abused! He’s terrified of being locked in a—” “I know,” Joss cut me off, his voice dangerously quiet. He glanced at Iris. “She’s scared of dogs.” The rest of my words caught in my throat. She’s scared of dogs. So that was it. A dull, heavy ache spread through my chest. The first time I sensed something was wrong between Joss and Iris was two months ago. With graduation looming, he was drowning in job offers and interviews, constantly busy. I’d send him a text at night and wouldn’t get a reply until the next morning. Our phone calls became brutally short. “He’s just stressed with graduation, Ava. Don’t overthink it,” Iris would say, trying to comfort me as I moped around the dorm. On Valentine’s Day, Iris gave me two movie tickets. Hoping to repair the growing rift between us, I asked Joss to go with me. Halfway through the film, he was clearly distracted, his eyes darting to his phone every few minutes. “Ava, I have to take a call. I’ll be right back.” He was gone before I could reply, grabbing his jacket and hurrying out of the theater. He never came back. After the movie ended, I saw him waiting for me in the crowded lobby, leaning against a wall with his head down, lost in thought. I noticed something odd—the top two buttons of his shirt, which were usually open, were fastened tightly to his throat. When he saw me, he offered a simple explanation. “Project call. Lost track of time.” “What kind of project call lasts for an entire movie?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended. How did he reply? He didn’t even bother to lie convincingly. “If you’re going to be suspicious, there’s nothing I can do.” Back in our dorm, I was scrolling aimlessly through my phone, my mind a turbulent mess, when I saw Iris’s latest post. It was a picture of two half-finished coffees and a pair of ticket stubs. The caption was just a single heart emoji. The room was silent except for the soft sound of our breathing. But I felt like I was suffocating. “Was your movie in the theater next to mine?” I asked, trying to sound casual. “Yeah,” she said. “I’m not really into rom-coms.” “Did you go with that guy you like?” Iris was quiet for a long time. Then, a small, knowing smile touched her lips. “I did.” Later that night, we were walking across the campus green. I walked ahead, wrapped in a cold silence. Joss sensed my mood and reached for my hand. “What’s wrong?” I said only one thing. “Iris was at the same movie theater tonight.” The air between us went still. But only for a second. He tightened his grip on my hand. “Ava, it was just a coincidence.” I looked into his eyes, saw the sincerity and apology swimming there, and I couldn’t bring myself to pull away. We had been together for so long; we were supposed to be each other’s future. I couldn’t let a few suspicions poison everything we had. Besides, I’d seen a picture of the guy Iris was supposedly obsessed with. She’d spent four years of college single for him. There was no way she’d go after Joss. Right? Maybe it was my imagination, but after that night, Joss grew even colder. With his final thesis defense approaching, he became a ghost. We hadn’t seen each other in almost a week. On his birthday, I baked his favorite cake, bought him a gift, and went to his apartment to surprise him. When I opened the door, the apartment was filled with people. And Joss was cutting a cake. With Iris. She was practically enveloped in his arms, her hand placed over his as they held the knife together. The cheerful chatter in the room died instantly. Joss’s face was a blank mask when he saw me. He didn’t move his hand. “Keep going,” he said to the group. It was Iris who pulled her hand away, her eyes darting toward me with a complicated expression. Someone quickly jumped in to explain. “It’s Iris’s birthday today too! We just thought it’d be fun for them to cut the cake together. Don’t get the wrong idea!” His clumsy lie did nothing to soothe the icy dread creeping into my heart. How could I not get the wrong idea? All the hurt, the anxiety, the suspicion from the past few weeks solidified into a painful certainty the moment I saw them together. After the party, I confronted him. Or rather, I had a complete meltdown while he stood there, watching. “I’m your girlfriend! Why didn’t you even tell me you were having a party?” “Are you that busy? You have time to cut a cake with her, but you can’t find two seconds to reply to my texts?” My voice cracked, turning into a choked sob. “Joss… do you even want to be with me anymore?” He met my desperation with that same, familiar silence. I gripped the back of a chair to steady myself, then slowly sank to the floor, burying my face in my knees as silent tears streamed down my cheeks. The Joss who told me everything, who promised to marry me right after graduation, who never let me doubt him—he was gone. There was nothing left to say. In a haze of pain and anger, I told him it was over. His only reply was a cold, flat, “Whatever you want.” Five days after we broke up, one of Joss’s friends called me, trying to play peacemaker. “We just showed up to surprise him for his birthday, Ava. He didn’t plan it. Look, he was wrong, but don’t you think you’ve been a little clingy while he’s been trying to finish his thesis? Everyone needs some space.” Even Iris sounded exasperated with me. “Ava, I have a guy I like, you’ve seen his picture! Joss is your boyfriend. Why would I ever try to steal him from you?” Their words echoed in my head. I started to wonder if I had overreacted, if I was being selfish and impulsive. I decided to talk to Joss, to try and fix things. And that’s when I walked in on them. We had been broken up for one week, and he’d already moved on with my roommate. A seamless transition, indeed. That night, I took Ricky with me. Since my dorm didn’t allow pets, I had to leave him at my parents’ house for the time being. I curled up in bed, my mind replaying the image of their kiss over and over, my imagination torturing me with scenes of what might have come next. A cold dread prickled at my scalp, and the knot in my chest tightened until I could barely breathe. Desperate for an outlet, I went online and found a public forum. I poured out all my pain and betrayal into a long, anonymous post answering a question about “seamless rebounds.” I woke up the next morning to a firestorm. My phone had exploded. 99+ notifications. “Why do you think he agreed to the breakup so fast? It’s obvious he already had someone lined up.” “I agree with the comment above. It’s not a ‘seamless rebound’ if the cheating was happening all along. He just needed an excuse to make the side piece official.” Somehow, through my descriptions of the campus and the city, users had figured out which university I attended. They put the pieces together and identified me and Iris by name. The post went viral on campus forums, with hundreds of students weighing in. “Iris always seemed so sweet and innocent. Guess she’s just another backstabbing snake.” “I know the boyfriend, he’s in the math department. Super smart, really handsome. No wonder she sank her claws into him…” “Is no one else going to talk about the part where the cheater came back from his ‘phone call’ with his shirt buttoned all the way up? He was definitely hiding something…” I stared at the flood of comments, a numb, hollow feeling spreading through me. My call log was full of missed calls, my messages overflowing. They were all from Joss. I turned off my phone and went downstairs to grab some food. He was waiting for me. As soon as I stepped outside, he strode toward me, his face a thunderous mask. “Take the post down,” he commanded, his voice cold as ice. The rage I felt, fueled by the validation from strangers online, boiled over. “When did it start between you two?” I demanded. “Was it that night at the movies? Or was it even earlier?” Joss’s face was impassive. “Ava, is there any point in discussing this now?” He didn’t answer. But he didn’t deny it, either. And in that silence, I had my answer. A bitter laugh escaped my lips, a sound of pure self-mockery. “If you didn’t love me anymore, you could have just told me. I wouldn’t have clung to you. Why did you have to—” “I’m not going to say it again,” he cut me off, a warning edge to his voice, his patience clearly gone. “Letting this blow up won’t do you any good, either. Take. The post. Down.” His words hung in the air, cold and menacing. I stared at him, a wave of dizzying disorientation washing over me. Was this really the same Joss I had known my whole life? When we were kids, my family didn’t have much money. A girl in our class, who had always disliked me, accused me of stealing her hair clip. She grabbed a handful of my hair and viciously shoved the butterfly clip she’d “found” in my backpack onto my head. “You’ve never worn anything this nice in your life, have you?” she sneered. “Stealing a ten-dollar hair clip. Just how poor are you?” Everyone called me a thief. Everyone except Joss. He stood up, his voice calm and clear, and told the teacher that he had seen the girl plant the clip in my bag herself. We became friends after that. He was the quiet, serious boy who protected me. Now, that boy was gone. In his place was a man who wouldn’t even let me finish a sentence. He was protecting someone else now. A wave of grief and bitterness so strong it almost buckled my knees washed over me. “I’m not deleting it,” I whispered, then turned and fled. That evening, when I went to pick up a food delivery, I felt eyes on me. I heard whispers, saw the strange, pitying glances. “They’re both as bad as each other, if you ask me.” “Desperate for attention, I guess.” A cold sense of dread crept up my spine. I rushed back to my room and turned on my phone. There it was: an anonymous reply to my original post, and it had already gone viral. The title read: The plot twist you didn’t see coming: She was cheating on her boyfriend with another man six months ago! (With photographic evidence!) The post was a long, scathing takedown, painting me as a master manipulator who had been cheating for months and was now playing the victim to ruin her ex-boyfriend and roommate’s reputations. And unlike my post, this one had a picture. In the photo, I was standing outside a hotel with a tall, well-built guy. My arm was linked through his, and his hand was resting possessively on my waist. The lighting was dim, but you could see him looking down at me, our bodies close. And the man was definitely not Joss. My post had generated so much traffic that this counter-post instantly blew up. The tide of public opinion turned in a flash. The same people who had been defending me were now tearing me apart, their comments even more vicious than the ones aimed at Iris. Suddenly, one comment shot to the top. “Wait, isn’t that Johnny Croft from Northwood University? The campus ice prince?” The replies came fast and furious: “No way! Why would Johnny be with her?” “I heard Johnny has a girlfriend, the prettiest girl in the literature department…” “Wow. So Ava was the other woman all along. The cheater got cheated on. Karma’s a bitch!” My hands shook with rage as I dialed Iris’s number. “Was that you?” I demanded. I could hear the smile in her voice. “What if it was?” she purred. “You started this, Ava. I’m just finishing it.” Before I could say another word, she let out a sharp gasp. “On the phone,” Iris said, her voice breathy and uneven. Then I heard Joss’s voice, lazy and indifferent. “What’s there to talk about with her?” The line went quiet, but it wasn’t dead. I could hear their breathing, heavy and close, then the distinct, faint sound of a zipper being pulled down. I slammed the phone down, ending the call. My whole body was trembling. After a moment, my fingers, clumsy and numb, typed out a message to someone in my contacts list. I’m so sorry you got dragged into this. I’ll handle it. I’m really, truly sorry. A few minutes later, a reply came back. It’s fine. Two simple words. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. The truth was, I barely knew Johnny Croft. This was a complete nightmare for him. He was a friend of my cousin’s, and six months ago, my cousin brought him to visit. I was the one who helped them book a hotel room. As we were leaving, I was looking down at my phone and almost walked into traffic. Johnny grabbed me, pulling me back onto the curb just in time. Iris was there that day. She must have been the one who took the picture. The world felt insane. Even after my cousin, Johnny, and I all posted explanations, providing the hotel booking confirmation with our names on it, the internet didn’t seem to care. Maybe they didn’t want the truth. They wanted drama. They wanted a winner and a loser. My life became a public spectacle. People would point and whisper when I walked across campus. It was then that Iris messaged me, saying we needed to talk. In person. My cousin, knowing how I tend to avoid confrontation, offered to come with me, but I told him I had to do this alone. She chose a coffee shop. When I arrived, she and Joss were already there, waiting. “There you are, Ava,” Iris said with a saccharine smile. I ignored her, walking to the table and sitting down without a word. I could feel Joss’s cold gaze on me, but I kept my eyes fixed on Iris. “What do you want to talk about?” “Talk?” Iris let out a theatrical laugh, covering her mouth with her hand. “Oh, sweetie. You’re in no position to be making demands.” A humorless laugh escaped my own lips. “So that mystery guy you were supposedly in love with all these years… it was always Joss, wasn’t it? You were lying to me the entire time.” “Yes,” she admitted, without a shred of shame. “It was love at first sight.” My hand tightened into a fist under the table. “That night at the movies… did he come to your theater?” “Nope.” I stared at her, confused. “We went to the…” she said, drawing out each word with malicious glee, “…rest-room… together.” “Enough,” I snapped, unable to bear hearing another disgusting detail. Even though I had suspected it, hearing the confirmation felt like a physical blow. “Look, I’m sorry about what happened,” Iris said, though her tone held no remorse. “I can take down the post about you and Johnny.” “But,” she continued, her smile turning sharp, “you have to delete your original post. And you have to issue a public apology to me.” “Never!” I shot back, my body trembling with rage. Iris’s smile widened. She reached into her bag and slid a stack of photographs across the table. “Deleting your post is not an option. And a public apology is even more—” My words choked in my throat as my eyes fell on the photos. They were blurry, dark, and utterly vile. My blood ran cold. “How… how did you get these?” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “How do you even know about…” My mind fractured. The images on the table triggered a cascade of memories I had locked away in the darkest corner of my mind. After Joss had stood up for me and exposed the girl who framed me for stealing the butterfly clip, she had targeted him for revenge. Her older brother was a local thug, the kind of person everyone was afraid of. For weeks, Joss wore long sleeves and masks, even in the heat. I found bruises on his arms and back, but he would just stand there silently while I put ointment on them, his jaw tight with pain. I would cry, my tears falling onto his bruised skin, and he would be the one to comfort me, his voice rough with pain. “I’m fine, Ava, really. Don’t cry. It doesn’t even hurt.” Then one day, I was cutting through an alley and saw them. Her brother had Joss pinned to the ground, his boot grinding Joss’s fingers into the filthy pavement. That’s when I understood the real price he had paid for defending me. I didn’t think. I just ran, shoving the guy off him, screaming at them to leave Joss alone, lying that the campus security was on their way. The brother grabbed me, his fingers digging into my jaw. He laughed, a cruel, mocking sound. “Security? I don’t think so. But you know what? You do something for me, and I’ll let your little boyfriend go.” I fought, I screamed, I cried, but I was powerless. Through my tears, I could see Joss, unconscious on the ground. Later, somehow, Joss got the photos back. He held me so tight, his eyes red-rimmed, and his voice broke as he promised me, “I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.” “If you don’t delete that post and apologize to me,” Iris’s voice sliced through my memories, “I can’t guarantee where these little pictures might end up. What will your parents think? What will the entire internet think?” How could Iris have these? How could she possibly know? “How do I know?” Iris’s voice was a low, cruel murmur, each word a needle piercing my heart. “You’ve already guessed, haven’t you?” A roar filled my ears. I slowly, mechanically, turned my head to look at Joss. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. His gaze was fixed on the table, anywhere but at me. I felt my body turn to ice. A single word escaped my lips, a ghost of a sound. “Why…?” You promised. You promised you would never let anyone hurt me again.

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In my past life, when my grandmother was on her deathbed, my twin sister and I were summoned to her side. It was time to divide the family assets. I drew the lot for the old family estate in the countryside. My sister, Iris, inherited the thriving factory. A few years later, her factory went bankrupt due to mismanagement. Meanwhile, the dilapidated estate everyone had dismissed was slated for a major development project. The government buyout made me a multi-millionaire overnight. I became the object of everyone’s envy, a nouveau-riche success story. Iris was left destitute. When I went to visit her, bringing gifts, she looked at me with pure hatred and plunged a knife into my heart. “Why should you get so much money without even trying?” she screamed. “I worked myself to the bone for that factory, and I ended up a beggar!” The pain was absolute. My consciousness faded. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at my grandmother’s bedside. This time, I made the first move. “Grandma, we don’t need to draw lots. Let Iris choose first.” … 1 “Penny, don’t pretend to be so generous,” my mother snapped impatiently. “There are only two of you. As the older sister, you should listen to your younger sister anyway.” “She told you to draw first, so just do it. Stop wasting time.” I was taken aback for a second, then a bitter smile touched my lips. Iris raised an eyebrow, her voice soft. “Grandma said drawing lots is the only fair way. But since my sister is letting me go first, I suppose I’ll just…” She was the same as always—playing the part of the innocent, sweet girl while finding the perfect moment to splash mud on me. My father cut her off, ignoring her act. “Penny, you draw first.” I was surprised. My parents had always doted on Iris, giving her the best of everything. Why, on a matter this important, were they insisting I choose first? “How about this,” Grandma said, pushing herself up in bed with a cough. “No drawing lots. Let Iris pick what she wants, and Penny will take the other. It’s a good thing for a child to know how to be considerate.” Iris bit her lip, her eyes darting back and forth as if weighing a heavy decision. Then, she spoke slowly. “I… I want the old family estate.” The air in the room seemed to crystallize. A strange, heavy silence descended. I saw my parents’ eyes go wide with shock, their mouths agape. So, Iris, you were reborn too. In our last life, she couldn’t wait to draw first. This time, her performance of self-sacrifice was clearly a calculated move to avoid repeating her mistakes. A cold smirk formed in my mind. “The old estate?” my father murmured, his voice laced with disbelief. Grandma shot a sharp look at my sister, then spoke. “Then the factory will go to Penny.” No one dared to defy my grandmother. The agreements were signed right there, at her bedside. My parents then left with Iris, leaving me behind to look after Grandma. I quietly followed them out, pressing myself against the wall to overhear their conversation. “Iris, honey, what were you thinking, choosing the estate?” my mother asked, her tone thick with frustration. “You know it’s worthless! The factory has a much brighter future.” Iris was unfazed, her voice bright with a secret excitement. “You don’t understand! The estate is going to make me rich! I’ll be a millionaire!” My father just ruffled her hair, his voice dripping with affection. “Our Iris can have whatever she wants. Daddy will always have your back.” Then, he added casually, “Next time, just tell me what you want beforehand, sweetheart. You have no idea—your mother and I wrote ‘ancestral home’ on both slips of paper for the drawing.” “After your sister drew her lot, we were just going to announce the other one was the factory without even opening it.” The words were a bitter pill. It was all a setup, a scheme to ensure their precious Iris got the more valuable asset. I felt a sudden warmth on my cheek and realized I was crying. I’d always known they favored her, but why did it still hurt so much? I walked back to the room in a daze. Grandma patted the bed, motioning for me to sit. From under her pillow, she pulled out a thick file folder. “Penny, my dear,” she said, her voice weak. “I know your parents’ favoritism runs so deep it could fill an ocean.” “What’s in this folder… I suspect it’s what you’ll need most.” “When you have truly hit rock bottom, when you have nowhere else to turn, open it. Don’t tell them about it. This is the last thing your grandma can do for you.” She told me this between fits of coughing. I finally broke, collapsing into her arms, my body wracked with sobs. I wasn’t unloved. Someone in this world truly loved me. When I got home, I hid the folder in the safest place I could find. 2 The factory was on the outskirts of town. It wasn’t large, but it was well-kept. When I first arrived, the workers welcomed me with warmth and respect. For a few days, I felt like I had won at life. But I knew it was just an illusion. With Iris choosing the estate, my parents felt she had made a great sacrifice. They treated her like a fragile treasure, spoiling her beyond belief. “What does our darling Iris want to eat today?” “Lobster!” This was our daily reality. Whatever Iris wanted, she got. Designer clothes, the newest phone, luxury handbags—nothing was denied her. I would see her and my mother at the mall, hand-in-hand, and each time it felt like a needle piercing my heart. One evening at home, I glanced for a moment too long at Iris and her new shopping bags. My father’s voice cut through the silence. “What are you looking at?” he snapped. “You got the whole factory. Isn’t that enough for you?” He slammed his fork down, rattling the plates on the table. “Your sister was considerate of you. The least you can do is be grateful.” “Remember to use your earnings to buy nice things for your sister, you hear me?” I didn’t answer. I just lowered my head, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. My days were a blur of work until the early hours of the morning—checking accounts, chasing orders, negotiating prices, adjusting production schedules. In my past life, my parents had handled all of this for Iris. They had indulged her every whim, even sinking a fortune into a useless raw material that never yielded a viable product. When the factory failed, they blamed their own incompetence, never once casting fault on her. “Ma’am, have you reviewed last night’s production plan?” my assistant asked one evening, his voice gentle. It was another late night at the factory. I nodded, rubbing my tired eyes. “It’s late, Cole. You should go home. Take tomorrow off.” He hesitated, then left, closing the door softly behind him. The office was quiet again. Business was stable, neither booming nor failing. I thought I could just keep things afloat, but one morning, Cole burst into my office. “Ma’am, it’s bad! Mr. Harrison just called. He’s raising the price of our raw materials by fifty percent!” The folder in my hand slipped and clattered to the floor. “Did he say why?” Cole shook his head helplessly. “Set up a dinner. I’ll talk to him. See if there’s any room to negotiate.” At the restaurant, Mr. Harrison’s smile was painfully fake. “Penny,” he said, raising his glass, “it’s not personal. The economy’s been tough. We have to make a living too.” “I understand,” I replied, matching his smile and raising my own glass. After a few drinks, he was thoroughly drunk. “Penny…” he slurred, leaning in conspiratorially. “If you want to blame someone… you should blame your parents, not me…” “It was your parents… they came to me… told me to raise the price.” “Said your sister thought a young person needed… to be tested. That it was for your own good.” The rest of his words were a drunken mumble. The room started to spin. Iris. It was you again. I tried so hard to stay out of your way, but you just won’t let me be. 3 The factory was on life support. I was spinning like a top, so busy I didn’t even have time to visit my grandmother. I’d been living at the factory for a week straight when my parents called to tell me she had passed away. I felt like I was floating, completely disconnected from my own body. “Your factory has money, doesn’t it? You can pay for the funeral,” my mother said, her tone a command. “Mom, things are tight at the factory right now. I don’t have the money…” I mumbled, ashamed. “Grandma doted on you your whole life, and you won’t even give her a decent funeral?” my father roared, his face turning purple. I had no choice. I scraped together every last penny I had and gave my grandmother a respectable service. At the funeral, my parents and Iris wept dramatically. “Iris loved her grandmother so much,” my mother told the other relatives, dabbing her eyes. “She even paid for this beautiful funeral herself.” But it was my money. I stepped forward to correct her, but my father grabbed me and dragged me into a corner. “Were you about to say something?” he hissed, his hand tight on my collar. “What is there to explain? You took the factory. This is what you owe her. So what if we ask you to spend a little money on her behalf?” His tone shifted to an accusatory growl. “Don’t you want to hear people praise your sister?” Why was it that everything I did ended up being a victory for her? A lump formed in my throat. I fought back tears and shook my head. “No.” “You’d better not. I’m telling you, if you say one word out of line at your grandmother’s funeral, you’ll regret it.” He shoved me away and went back to comforting his grieving wife and daughter. The week after the funeral, we were supposed to have a memorial dinner for the family. Of course, I was expected to pay for that, too. Iris arrived like a movie star, dressed in a new designer dress, a diamond-encrusted clutch in her hand. “My poor sister, you’ve been working so hard,” she said, feigning concern as she greeted our relatives. “The factory must be in a tough spot. But you’re determined to be an entrepreneur, aren’t you? You can’t give up over a few small setbacks.” The monumental obstacles she had created were dismissed as “small setbacks.” I nearly laughed out loud. She linked her arm through mine. “I believe in you, sister. You won’t fail right out of the gate, will you?” The relatives chuckled. “Penny doesn’t really have the makings of a businesswoman, does she?” “It’s only been a month and the factory is already on the verge of collapse.” “Honestly, Penny, you should have just given the factory to Iris. She would have done a much better job.” Their words were a physical weight on my chest. I forced a smile, my fingers gripping my napkin so tightly my knuckles turned white. “I’ll do my best,” I managed to say, the taste of blood in my mouth.

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1 My best friend called his fiancée, only to have her hang up on him. The text she sent back was cold and dismissive. “Lewis has a cold. I don’t have time.” My friend then called his own girlfriend, a superstar with connections everywhere. The reply he got was just as chilling. “Lewis’s sick. This is when he needs me the most.” After a night spent fighting for my life in the emergency room, we found ourselves in the same hospital ward, looking at each other. We spoke the words at the exact same time. “I don’t want to get married anymore.” We never expected that when the women who had abandoned us received the news, they would both lose their minds. … After a week of complete silence, my fiancée, Grace, finally called. I answered, and was immediately met with a barrage of accusations. “Liam, what the hell is wrong with you? Both our families have already agreed on the time and place for the wedding, and you just call it off? What are you trying to pull?” I opened my mouth to speak, but she cut me off with a torrent of self-righteous anger. “I’ve told you a million times, Lewis’s health is fragile! A simple cold can turn into a life-threatening crisis. I have to be by his side to make sure he’s safe. How can you be so petty and jealous? Don’t you have any regard for human life?!” Human life… A bitter laugh escaped my lips. Last night, I was on my way home after finalizing our wedding arrangements when a speeding truck slammed into my car. In the moments before I lost consciousness, I used every last ounce of strength to call Grace. The line went dead. She’d rejected the call. I tried again. Rejected. As my vision faded to black, my blood-smeared phone screen lit up with a notification. An impatient message from Grace. [What? Spit it out!] When I didn’t reply instantly, another one followed. [Are you sick in the head? Do you have any idea how much Lewis needs me right now? His emotional state is fragile! A breakdown could kill him!] And now, after all that, all she could do was berate me. Suddenly, my best friend, Brian, who had just walked in, snatched the phone from my hand. “Are you out of your mind, Grace?! Liam was in a car wreck last night! The driver hit him and then maliciously ran him over a second time! If they hadn’t gotten him to the hospital when they did, he’d be dead right now! Can you not tell the difference between a fucking cold and a car crash?!” A cold, dismissive laugh came from the other end. “You’re trying to pull that kind of lie on a doctor, Brian? You two really overestimate your own intelligence.” With that, she hung up. Brian stared at the phone, the veins in his hand popping as he gripped it. Almost immediately, his own phone rang. It was his fiancée, Bella—Grace’s childhood friend. “Brian, what is this game you two are playing? Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Because of your childish jealousy and lies, Lewis got so agitated he nearly had a full-blown relapse!” “If Grace and I hadn’t been here, what would have happened to him? Are you blind to a living, breathing human being in crisis?! The Vance family will not let someone as vicious and cruel as you through its doors. I don’t give a damn if we get married or not!” Brian was about to unleash a string of curses, but she had already blocked his number. “I swear to God, those…” I reached out a weak hand and grabbed his arm. “Don’t, Brian. They’re not worth it.” He looked at the mess of tubes and monitors connected to me, his voice filled with concern. “Liam, does it still hurt?” I smiled and shook my head. Not anymore. The real pain had stopped the moment Grace hung up on me while I was bleeding out. To distract us, Brian put on some reality TV show. We sat there, picking at a bag of chips, making snarky comments. “Look at that guy. He’s got the face of a B-list comedian.” “This whole segment is so fake. You can practically see the script.” But soon, the laughter died in our throats. On the screen, in a haze of soft lighting and dramatic music, was Bella. The A-list celebrity. The love of Brian’s life. Brian’s face darkened. “Nope, bad juju,” he muttered, fumbling for the remote. “Changing this right now.” But Bella’s voice, thick with emotion, stopped him. It was one of those sappy, heartfelt confessionals the shows loved. She looked directly into the camera, her famous eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “My biggest regret,” she said, her voice trembling, “is not telling a certain boy how I felt all those years ago…” The other guests on the show hooted and pressed for details. Brian’s hand, holding the remote, clenched into a white-knuckled fist. I put a comforting hand on his arm, my own heart aching for him. Bella and Brian were engaged, but she refused to make it public. She claimed it would hurt her brand, affect her “relatability” with her fans. This, despite the fact that her family was so wealthy that her acting career was little more than a hobby. Whenever Brian brought it up, she would fly into a rage, accusing him of not understanding her, of not supporting her dreams. But she never saw it. She never saw how Brian would pull all-nighters for damage control whenever a negative story about her broke. She never saw how he would mobilize his own network to promote her new shows and movies. Brian once told me he knew being a star was her dream. So he was willing to use all his resources, all his strength, to lift her to the very top. But in her eyes, everything he did was just a desperate attempt to keep her, a tool in his jealous game. She was convinced that the only person in the world who truly understood her was their shared childhood friend, Lewis. Seeing the worry in my eyes, Brian forced a smile. “It’s okay, Liam. We already decided, right? We’re calling it off.” “All that’s left is to tell our parents. Then it’s over. We’ll be free.” I nodded, a heavy silence settling between us. But that night, my phone rang again. It was Grace. “Liam, why are you being so unreasonable?” she said, her voice laced with annoyance. “Lewis was sick. I was helping him as a doctor! Why do you have to twist everything into something so ugly?! And because of this petty little tantrum, you’re not even coming to the engagement dinner!” “Both our families are here. We’re all waiting for you! Liam, I’m warning you, be sensible. Don’t make me come and get you.” In the past, her cold, scolding tone would have crushed me. But now, faced with her fury, I just felt… nothing. “Grace,” I said calmly, “since I’m breaking off the engagement, there’s no reason for me to be at that dinner.” The words “breaking off” reignited her rage. “Do you have any idea how pathetic you sound right now? Is this some kind of stupid pissing contest? Liam, I never knew you could be this manipulative and childish! I’m the one calling you, giving you an out. Is it that hard to just back down?!” “Everyone is waiting! How long are you going to keep this up?! You have to be here today! Tell me where you are, I’m coming to get you right now!” I looked down at the hospital-issue blanket covering me, a wave of exhaustion washing over me. “I’m at Mercy General Hospital. Come and get me.” There were two seconds of silence, then a cold, derisive laugh. “Wow, Liam. You don’t even bother with believable lies anymore. You’d say anything just to make me grovel and beg for your forgiveness, wouldn’t you?” I closed my eyes, a bitter smile on my face. I knew it would end like this. I knew that no matter what happened to me, it would never be as important as a single hair on Lewis’s head. I knew all of this, and yet, some foolish part of me still held onto a sliver of hope. A wave of nausea churned in my stomach, and I leaned over the side of the bed, vomiting into a basin. Grace, oblivious, continued her tirade, her tone as arrogant as ever. “And don’t you dare drag Brian into your little drama! He was supposed to be meeting Bella’s parents tonight to set a wedding date, and now he’s nowhere to be found! You can’t handle your own relationship, so you have to poison someone else’s? And now you’re stooping to faking a life-threatening injury? Liam, have you ever considered how truly toxic you are?! What’s next? If I give in this time, will you start self-harming to force my hand?” Yes. No matter what, she would always assume the worst. That I was the master manipulator, orchestrating everything just to prey on her non-existent sympathy. It was just like last year, at a party, when Lewis deliberately fed me something I was severely allergic to. I spiked a fever immediately, my throat closing up. I almost died. Her reaction then? She looked down at me, her face a mask of cold disdain. “Liam, the way you use these lies to get attention is absolutely disgusting. You just want to marry into my family, don’t you? You already tricked my parents into this engagement. What’s the point of this pathetic act?” In her mind, that’s all I was. A vicious, scheming man, using self-inflicted wounds to drive a wedge between her and her precious Lewis. Before, I would have argued, I would have desperately tried to explain. But now, I was just tired. So tired, I couldn’t be bothered to say another word to save us. “Grace, I’m breaking the engagement,” I said, my voice flat. “When I’m out of the hospital, I’ll explain everything to your parents myself. I’m not coming to the dinner tonight.” I hung up. I never thought she would actually show up. When she stormed into my hospital room and saw me lying in the bed, she froze, a deep frown creasing her forehead. But before she could speak, Lewis appeared behind her. He habitually looped his arm through hers, pressing his entire body against her side in a blatant act of ownership. He looked at me, his face a caricature of pity. “What’s all this? Liam, what happened to you?” “I’m so sorry, Liam. I really wasn’t feeling well that day, that’s the only reason Grace came to see me. You shouldn’t be so upset with her. Both our families are waiting for you at the hotel! You’re making things so awkward for them!” Before he could continue his cloying, manipulative speech, Grace cut him off. She looked at him, her eyes filled with a pained tenderness that she had never once shown me. “Lewis, you don’t have to say any of this to him! Liam! You are getting more and more out of line! Did you really think staging this little drama would make me submit to you? You need to apologize to Lewis right now! And you need to apologize to our parents!” “This is your last chance! Otherwise, you can forget about this wedding!” A cold laugh escaped me. “Grace, we’re done. Please take your boyfriend and get the hell out of my room.” The mention of her beloved Lewis sent her into a rage. Her hand flew up, and the sharp crack of a slap echoed in the quiet room.

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