Category: English

I woke up in a hospital bed with a concussion I got while saving my girlfriend. The first thing that came to mind was to play a little joke. “Who… are you?” I asked, looking at her. I saw Chloe’s expression freeze, and I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. But then, she pointed to her best friend, Aria, who was standing beside her. “I’m a friend of your fiancée,” she said coolly. “This is your fiancée, Aria.” My smile froze on my face. Aria took a step forward, her expression unreadable. “That’s right. I’m your fiancée.” I forced a weak smile. “Then… let’s go home.” … Aria took me home. Her home. I looked around the unfamiliar apartment, a space that held absolutely no trace of my existence. No photos, no stray jacket, nothing. I lowered my head and started fiddling with my phone, trying to ground myself. “Do you want to get some rest first?” Aria’s voice was soft, gentle. She was playing the part of a loving fiancée perfectly. “Okay,” I nodded, using the amnesia as a perfect excuse to let her lead me to the bedroom. She seemed to let out a breath of relief once I was lying down. I closed my eyes, the air filled with her scent—unfamiliar, but surprisingly pleasant. A few minutes later, I heard a familiar voice drift in from the other room. “Aria, you’re the best friend a girl could ask for! Please, just pretend to be his fiancée for a little while?” It was Chloe. I sat up, peering through the crack of the bedroom door, which wasn’t fully closed. “Aren’t you afraid he’ll get his memory back one day?” Aria asked. They must have thought I was asleep; Chloe had her on speakerphone, her voice filling the quiet apartment. “Oh, please. If he remembers, I’ll just coo at him a little, give him a few kisses and hugs, and he’ll melt,” Chloe said with a syrupy sweetness that felt like a shard of glass in my gut. “He loves me so much, he’d never dream of leaving me.” So that’s what I was to her. Replaceable. A piece of trash she could throw away and pick back up whenever she felt like it, all because I loved her too much. “I’m just… a little bored,” she continued, her voice light and careless. “We’ve been together for so long. I just need a little space, a little excitement to feel alive again. It won’t be for long.” “And I know you can’t stand Ethan. So just think of it as doing me a huge favor, okay?” I never heard Aria’s reply. She walked further away, her voice fading. I pushed myself up, opened the door, and slowly walked toward the balcony where she stood. This should give her a scare, a wicked little thought surfaced. But as if she sensed me, Aria turned around. Our eyes met. She quickly ended the call and walked toward me, wrapping her arms around my waist and resting her head against my chest. “I thought you were resting. Why are you up already?” She snuggled against me, and for a surreal moment, it felt like we really were a couple who had been in love for years. “I’m a little hungry,” I said, my smile never reaching my eyes. Aria didn’t seem to notice. “What do you feel like eating? How about the perfect omelet?” Her words made me pause. My love for a perfectly cooked, fluffy omelet was a small, secret thing. Not even Chloe knew about it. “Okay,” I nodded. I gently unwound her arms from my waist, feeling a strange sense of unease, and sat down at the small dining table. Aria didn’t seem to mind, simply turning and heading into the kitchen. I watched as she expertly tied on an apron and began to cook. I rested my chin in my hand, a dizzying sense of déjà vu washing over me. This was it. This was the scene I had always imagined for my future married life. I just never imagined I’d be living it with my fiancée’s best friend. Soon, a golden, fragrant omelet was placed in front of me. Aria sat opposite me, her chin propped in her hand, watching me with a warm, genuine smile. My heart gave a sharp, painful jolt. I quickly looked down, scooped up a bite, and brought it to my mouth. It was perfect. Unbelievably good. “Is it good?” I didn’t answer. My body was more honest than my words as I quickly took another bite. Aria laughed softly at my eagerness. She leaned forward and gently brushed a stray crumb from the corner of my mouth with her fingertip. “No one’s going to steal it from you,” she teased. “Slow down. If anyone saw you, they’d think I was starving you.” The sudden intimacy made me press my lips together. For a split second, our eyes met, and I heard a frantic, pounding heartbeat. Was it hers? Or mine? I didn’t know. I looked away, tilting my head back slightly. Seeing my hesitation, Aria just smiled, a sad, knowing little smile, and leaned in to press a feather-light kiss to my forehead. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “I know you’ve forgotten me. We can take it slow.” “Alright?” Looking into her deep, gentle eyes, I found myself nodding before I could even think. But none of it made sense. For all the years I’d known her, Aria had never shown the slightest interest in me. In fact, everything about her behavior suggested she felt the same way Chloe claimed she did. That she hated me. I stared at her, trying to solve the puzzle. Which one was the real Aria? “I’m going to a party with some friends tonight,” she said, breaking the silence. “Do you want to come?” Friends? An image of Chloe flashed in my mind. “Yes.” When Aria led me into the private room, I was hit by a chaotic mix of perfume and alcohol. It was packed, a tangle of bodies and loud music. Chloe was sitting right in the center of it all, with a familiar man beside her—Leo, her high school sweetheart, the one that got away. As we watched, the crowd roared them on, and they fell into a deep, passionate kiss. They only broke apart when they saw me enter. I could see the glint of challenge in Leo’s eyes. “Oh, you’re here,” Chloe said, leaning against Leo’s shoulder with a lazy smile. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, Leo.” She punctuated the announcement with a sweet, shy kiss on his cheek. “Hey, I’m Leo,” he said, extending a hand to me, his smile warm and disarming. As if the look he’d just given me was a figment of my imagination. “Nice to meet you,” I replied politely, acting as if I’d never seen him before. But I’d seen him a hundred times. In photos on Chloe’s phone, in the pages of her diary, in the drunken, sentimental whispers she thought I couldn’t hear. I followed Aria to a quieter corner and sat down. No one spoke to us, but I could feel their eyes darting between the four of us, hungry for drama. In this circle, I had always been the butt of the joke. But tonight, with Aria by my side, they seemed to keep their distance. My gaze drifted to her. She was already looking at me, her expression soft and warm. Seeing the silent exchange between us, Chloe, who had been cuddling with Leo, suddenly sat up straighter. Her eyes narrowed at Aria, her voice dripping with an acid I didn’t recognize. “You and your fiancé seem to be getting along really well,” she said, her tone sharp. “You’ve got all your friends here, but it’s like you can’t see anyone but him.” The sourness in her voice was unmistakable. It was the bitterness of someone who felt like they were being cheated on. And yet, she was the one who had pushed me into Aria’s arms. I almost laughed. “Of course we do,” I said, unable to resist. The sound of my voice cut through the noise. “We’re engaged. It’s only natural that we’d be close.” Silence. The entire room seemed to freeze. “Alright, alright, enough of that! Let’s play a game!” someone shouted, breaking the tension. Chloe shot Aria a dark look before settling back with her boyfriend. “Let’s play the King’s Game,” the person suggested. “Whoever draws the King card gets to pick two numbers and make them do any dare they want.” The idea was met with enthusiastic approval. After the first round, the two numbers called belonged to Chloe and her boyfriend. At the King’s command, they had to French kiss for two minutes and post a video of it online. As they kissed, I could feel Leo’s eyes on me, watching for a reaction. When he saw my face was a mask of indifference, he finally turned his full attention back to Chloe. When they finished, Chloe looked at me, a flicker of guilt in her eyes. But when she saw me calmly sipping my drink, she visibly relaxed. The second round, the chosen numbers were mine and Chloe’s. The dare: I had to carry her, princess-style, and do five deep squats. As the others grinned knowingly, I smiled right back. Chloe glanced at Leo, whose face had hardened, then stood up with an impatient sigh, as if being paired with me was a punishment. “Can’t we pick someone else? I have a boyfriend.” I looked up at her, at the undisguised annoyance on her face, and I let out a soft laugh. “You’re right.” At my response, Chloe froze, looking at me in disbelief. “What did you say?” “You’re right,” I repeated, letting a hint of regret color my voice. “You have a boyfriend, and I have a fiancée. We shouldn’t be doing games like this together.” I sighed dramatically. “I guess I’ll just take the penalty drink for failing the challenge.” The moment I reached for my glass, Chloe’s hand shot out to stop me. Her face was a storm cloud of anger. “I can do it with you,” she said, the words practically forced through her clenched teeth. “No, that’s okay,” I said, shaking my head as she glared daggers at me. “Aria would get upset.” I turned to look at Aria, who was watching the exchange with a surprised expression of her own. “That’s what I used to call you, right?” I asked her, my voice full of feigned confusion. “Or was it Ari? Or maybe Sweetheart?” I was dancing on every one of Chloe’s last nerves. As expected, in the next second, she grabbed Aria by the arm and stormed out of the room. I followed a moment later, using the excuse of being worried. At the end of the hallway, Chloe’s voice was shaking with rage. “Aria, what the hell have you done to Ethan?” “I haven’t done anything,” Aria replied, her voice and expression a picture of pure innocence. “Isn’t this how he always was with you?” “He was always so terrified of making you angry,” she continued calmly. “The only thing that’s changed is the person he’s afraid of upsetting. His devotion is the same.” Aria’s words hit their mark. Chloe bit her lip, taking several deep breaths, unable to find a single word to refute the truth. “Just… I’m warning you,” Chloe finally spat out. “Stay away from him. I asked you to act. I didn’t ask you to make it real!” “I know,” Aria replied, her calm smile never wavering. “You know I can’t stand him.” I didn’t wait to hear more. I turned and went back to the party. When they returned, they were arm-in-arm, the perfect image of inseparable best friends. The party raged on. I ignored the challenging glances sent my way and allowed myself to relax and mingle. My newfound ease seemed to catch Chloe’s attention, and I felt her eyes on me throughout the night. Perhaps she was just surprised to see the quiet, boring man she’d grown tired of suddenly become so alive. Late that night, everyone went their separate ways. Aria helped me back to her apartment, supporting my drunken, stumbling form. The moment I sank into the soft mattress of the bed, I grabbed her wrist. “Aria.” My voice, husky with alcohol, seemed to catch her off guard. She stood frozen by the bed, her cheeks flushed. On the outside, I was a drunken mess. But inside, my mind was perfectly clear. I needed to prove something. With a gentle tug, I pulled her off balance, and she tumbled onto the bed beside me. Under the cover of being drunk, I leaned up and kissed her. The moment our lips touched, her eyes flew open in shock. But a second later, she took control, her arms wrapping around my neck, pulling me closer. The air in the room crackled with a sudden, intense heat. After a long moment, we slowly pulled apart. “Ethan,” she whispered, her eyes shimmering. “I had so much fun tonight.” Her words were weighted with meaning. My hand, resting at my side, curled into a fist. Aria’s words and her actions were two completely different things. She said she hated me, yet she never once pushed away my touch. She had even… kissed me back. I didn’t understand. Back when I was with Chloe, Aria had made her disdain for me perfectly clear. No matter how hard I tried to be kind, to win her over, she was always cold, always distant. She openly mocked my relationship with Chloe, telling her to her face that we would never last. I had learned to avoid her at all costs. But now, after I’d “lost my memory,” after Chloe had literally handed me over to her, she was a completely different person. Was she just trying to protect her friendship with Chloe? If so, this was going way too far. My thoughts were a tangled mess. For now, I decided to stop trying to unravel them. I would just continue to play my part in their little drama. Aria’s performance was flawless. Every day, she made sure I ate well. At night, she held me as we slept. In the morning, she greeted me with a gentle smile. She even called my work and, citing my medical condition, got me a month of leave. My days were spent in her quiet apartment, watching movies, tending to her plants, taking walks in the nearby park. It was a simple life, but it was filled with a strange, peaceful happiness I hadn’t realized I was missing. Until a phone call shattered the calm. I saw Chloe again. She was leaning against a sleek motorcycle, dressed in tight shorts, a form-fitting tank top, and a leather jacket. She looked impossibly cool, a radiant, confident smile on her face. Looking at her, I quietly clenched my fists. When we were together, I had always worried about her old back injury. I never wanted her to do anything dangerous—no street racing, no bungee jumping. She always said I was overreacting. I’d gently suggest she not wear revealing clothes when we went out, not because I was controlling, but because I worried about her safety. If she insisted, I’d always have a jacket ready, silently watching over her. To her, all of my concern boiled down to one word. Suffocating. She said I was stifling her, chaining down her free spirit. And now that she had pushed me away, she was finally free to breathe. She spotted us and waved, her smile bright. I gave a polite, distant nod in return. My muted reaction clearly wasn’t what she wanted. She strode over to me, deliberately tugging her shorts down a little lower. “Ethan, how do I look today?” “You look great,” I said, giving her the answer she was fishing for. But her expression only grew darker. “But not as great as Aria.” I was doing it on purpose. If she was allowed to push me away, why wasn’t I allowed to compliment someone else? My words hit their mark. I could see the anger flash in her eyes. “You know,” she said, changing the subject, “Leo organized this whole race today just for me. Because he likes me so much.” I just nodded again. “That’s nice.” My placid response seemed to frustrate her even more. She huffed and stomped back over to Leo. As their friends cheered, she pulled him into another passionate kiss, her eyes locked on mine the entire time. Only when she was certain I truly didn’t care did she finally push him away. Her lipstick was smeared across her mouth, but she didn’t notice. She grabbed a megaphone from someone nearby. “I have an announcement to make!” Her gaze found mine again as she took Leo’s hand and wrapped it around her waist.

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The day I left my ex-husband, he made me choose: the money or his daughter. I took the money. She was seven. She didn’t cry or throw a tantrum. She just watched me go, her expression unreadable. I moved on. I remarried, had a son, and my life settled into the quiet rhythm of ordinary. Twenty-five years later, my son told me he was bringing his new girlfriend home to meet me. 1 My son, Leo, had been single for all twenty-five years of his life, but he’d inherited my romantic heart. He’d just graduated, and to celebrate landing his first real job, he’d had a little too much to drink. He’d also, apparently, ended up in someone’s bed. “Mom, what do I do?” he’d groaned over the phone a few days later. “I just found out she’s my boss.” I was speechless. Honestly, some things are better kept between you and your own crippling sense of embarrassment, not shared with your mother. “I don’t care,” he declared before I could respond, a new fire in his voice. “I don’t care who she is. I’m going to ask her out.” I didn’t offer a single word of encouragement, but his hope ignited all on its own. Two days later, he shuffled home, the picture of defeat. “She told me to leave her alone, Mom.” “Well,” I said, trying to be gentle, “you can be… a lot.” He made a frustrated sound. “She asked what it would take for me to stop bothering her.” “And what did you say?” “I told her if she’d just come home and meet you once, I’d never bother her again.” I blinked. And blinked again. Wow. Just… wow. Was this some new form of emotional blackmail? The “my-mom-wants-to-meet-you” gambit? “I know it’s a lost cause,” he mumbled, his voice small and pathetic. “But… I just wanted you to meet the person I’ve fallen for.” His sincerity was a little heartbreaking. My resolve softened. And so, here I was, having spent the entire day cooking and cleaning, bracing myself for the arrival of this VIP. When the doorbell rang, I took a deep breath, pasted on my most welcoming smile, and opened the door. A woman stood behind Leo, dressed in a sharply tailored black coat. She carried an aura so potent it seemed to chill the air around her. My mind went blank. A buzzing static filled my ears. My first instinct was primal: hide. Find a crack in the floor and disappear into it. But the woman—Claire Sterling—merely glanced at me, her face a placid mask. There wasn’t a flicker of recognition. I didn’t know if I should feel relief or a fresh wave of grief. Of course, I told myself. She was only seven when I left. It’s been twenty-five years. She’s forgotten you. I forced the storm of emotion down and managed a smile, ushering her inside. “Claire, please, come in. It’s cold out there, isn’t it?” Leo, meanwhile, was a machine gun of nervous chatter, trying to unload his entire life story over the course of one dinner. “Look, Claire, this is a picture of me when I was a kid. Awkward, right?” “You have to try this, Claire. It’s my mom’s specialty. She…” Through it all, Claire remained poised and elegant, eating her food with a quiet focus, offering only the occasional, polite nod in response to Leo’s monologue. Then, she reached for one of the garlic butter prawns, glistening under the dining room light. My blood ran cold. “Don’t!” The word tore out of me. I shot up from my chair, my body moving on pure instinct. Just as the shrimp was about to reach her lips, I lunged across the table and knocked it from her chopsticks. The motion was so violent that a spray of buttery sauce splattered across the back of her hand. She has a severe shellfish allergy. When she was little, a single, thumb-sized shrimp had sent her into anaphylactic shock. Leo stared at me, dumbfounded. “Mom? What the hell was that?” My mind raced, my voice trembling as I scrambled for an excuse. “This… this batch. I think this batch went bad. Don’t eat it.” I turned to Leo. “There’s soup simmering in the kitchen. Could you get a bowl for Claire?” Though his face was a mask of confusion, he nodded and headed for the kitchen. The two of us were left alone in the suddenly cavernous silence of the living room. Claire slowly, deliberately, wiped the sauce from her hand with a napkin. Then she lifted her eyes to mine, and a slow, knowing smile curved her lips. It didn’t reach her eyes. “For a second there,” she said, her voice dangerously soft, “I was beginning to think you didn’t recognize me, Lena.”

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My brother’s fiancée was a snake. The very first day she set foot in our house, she cooed at me, her voice all honey and silk. “Ethan, your sister is just adorable.” A second later, she “tripped,” sending a full cup of coffee splashing across the limited-edition designer bag my brother had just given me. Her eyes instantly welled with tears. “Oh, Mia, I am so, so sorry. Let me pay for it…” As she said it, her gaze darted to my brother, a silent, pleading prayer for him to swoop in and save her. But before he could say a word, I smiled. A sharp, bright, unforgiving smile. “Pay for it? Sophia, why don’t you just cut the act?” “What, are you jealous that my brother buys me nice things? If you’re that jealous, just say it.” “Pulling this kind of pathetic, underhanded stunt…” I shoved the ruined bag right in front of her face. “Don’t you feel disgusting?” Sophia recoiled, a perfect picture of wounded innocence, her eyes flicking around the living room, searching for an ally. Tough luck. My brother worships the ground I walk on, my parents would move mountains for me, and my grandparents? They think the sun rises and sets with me. The support she was hoping for never came. Instead, she got my grandmother’s furious gasp, my grandfather’s hand slamming on the table, and my father’s icy glare. And from my brother, a sharp, disbelieving question that cut through the air. “Sophia! What the hell is wrong with you?” The color drained from the snake’s face, leaving it a chalky, brittle white. 1 Today was the first time I was officially meeting my future sister-in-law. She arrived with beautifully wrapped gift boxes in hand, her smile a carefully crafted mix of warmth and grace. “Mr. and Mrs. Hayes, it’s so wonderful to meet you. And you must be Mia’s grandparents.” She gave a slight, deferential bow, her posture screaming humility. “Oh, darling, you shouldn’t have,” my mother said, her own smile genuine as she welcomed her in. “Come in, come in, make yourself at home.” My father gave a quiet nod of approval. Sophia stepped inside, and her eyes landed on me. Her smile deepened. “And you must be Mia. You’re even prettier in person. Ethan was right, you’re absolutely adorable.” “Hi, nice to meet you,” I replied, offering a sweet smile of my own. Ethan wrapped an arm around her shoulders, his voice filled with a dopey sort of pride. “This is my little sister, Mia. Mia, this is your future sister-in-law, Sophia.” “Hi, Sophia,” I chirped. “Mia, look what I got for you,” Ethan said, holding out a box. “That bag you were talking about last week? I managed to track one down.” My eyes went wide. I shot up from the couch. “No way! I thought the waitlist was months long!” “Your big brother has his connections, doesn’t he?” He grinned, ruffling my hair with that familiar, loving gesture. Sophia walked over to me, her eyes glinting as she took in the box. “That’s a beautiful bag, Mia. Ethan is just so good to you.” My fingers had just brushed the strap, my own “thank you” forming on my lips, when I caught a glimpse of her expression as she turned away. It wasn’t envy. It wasn’t admiration. It was pure, unadulterated jealousy. A cold knot formed in my stomach. This woman didn’t like me. She was putting on a show. She seamlessly pivoted back to my parents, her voice a soft, melodic murmur, every word perfectly chosen. Ethan, meanwhile, was completely oblivious, beaming like an idiot. “Mom, Dad, isn’t Sophia great? She’s so sweet and thoughtful, and she’s already so good to Mia.” Good to me? Right. I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly saw my brain. My parents just smiled and nodded, and for a moment, the living room was a picture of perfect harmony. 2 And just like that, Sophia moved in. Ostensibly, it was to “get to know the family better” before the wedding. After dinner one evening, I was curled up in my attic loft, reading a graphic novel. I heard footsteps on the stairs, followed by Sophia’s voice, deliberately softened to a breathy whisper. “Ethan, look at Mia’s loft! It’s so romantic. With that huge skylight, you must be able to see all the stars at night.” I didn’t even lift my head. Ethan’s voice was laced with a smile. “Yeah, Mia’s loved this space since she was a kid.” “It’s amazing,” Sophia breathed, her tone full of longing. “Ethan, what do you think about us turning this into our own little private space after we’re married? We could make it a cozy reading nook or a home theater. It would be so romantic!” Ethan paused. “But… this is Mia’s room.” Sophia ignored him. The footsteps continued up the stairs. Her face appeared in the doorway, plastered with that impeccably considerate smile. “Mia, honey. Reading?” She walked in, her gaze sweeping greedily across the photos and books lining my walls, finally settling on the glass skylight above. She turned back to me, her voice practically dripping honey. “Mia, sweetie, I was just thinking. It must be so inconvenient for you, living all the way up here in the attic, having to go up and down these stairs all the time.” “The guest room downstairs is so much bigger and more accessible. Why don’t you let me… look after the loft for you? I promise I’ll keep it spotless. You can move into the guest room, and your parents won’t have to worry about you getting tired from the stairs.” If you want to steal my room, just say so. Why wrap it in a pretty little bow? I finally looked up from my book. “No, thanks, Sophia.” The smile on her face froze for a fraction of a second. I blinked innocently. “This is my room. I’ve lived up here for over a decade. I don’t find it inconvenient at all.” Then, as if a brilliant idea had just struck me, I raised my voice just enough to carry down the stairs. “Sophia, is there something wrong with the guest room? Is the mattress too hard? Is the Wi-Fi signal bad?” I paused, then offered my most helpful suggestion. “You can just tell Maria, you know. She can get you a new mattress, or we can get a signal booster. Oh, I know!” I swiveled toward the top of the stairs, yelling down to my dad, who was reading the paper in the living room. “Dad! I think Sophia hates the guest room and wants my loft! Maybe you can build her a new little cottage in the garden? Make sure it has a skylight!” 3 My words detonated the quiet atmosphere in the living room below. I heard my grandmother let out a bark of laughter. “Our Mia is right! Why should she give up her room? Sophia, if you’re not comfortable here, Ethan can get you a suite at the Four Seasons. You’ll be much more comfortable there.” My dad lowered his newspaper and shot a look at Sophia. “The loft is Mia’s sanctuary. Nobody touches it.” My mother’s voice, though still gentle, had an edge of steel. “Sophia, if there’s anything you need for the guest room, anything at all that’s not to your liking, you just tell me. Don’t hesitate. I’ll have it taken care of immediately. But Mia loves her loft, and that’s where she’ll stay.” It was only then that Ethan seemed to catch on. He scratched his head, turning to Sophia. “I mean… I can ask Maria to swap out the mattress for a softer one? The loft is pretty old anyway. If Mia likes it, she should just stay here.” Before he could finish, the door to the study creaked open. My grandfather emerged, leaning on his cane, his face a thundercloud. “Ethan! Are you deaf? What belongs to Mia is hers, and not even the President of the United States can take it away from her!” “One more word out of you, and you can both go check into that hotel right now!” Though his words were aimed at Ethan, every single one was a bullet aimed directly at Sophia. The blood drained from her face, leaving it pale and waxy. After a few seconds that stretched into an eternity, she managed to produce a smile that looked more painful than a grimace. “Grandpa… please don’t be angry. I—I was just joking.” “The loft is Mia’s, of course it is. I’m perfectly fine in the guest room, really…” I watched her pathetic, backpedaling display and scoffed internally. Joking? Who’s joking with you? Trying to steal my things, in my own house. You’ve got to get through my grandparents, my parents, and my brother first. Good luck with that. 4 The weekend family dinner had just wrapped up, and the mood was relaxed. Ethan slid a small, elegant jewelry box across the table toward me. “That bracelet you sent me a picture of a while back. I had someone pull some strings.” “Wow! More presents from my favorite brother!” I said, my voice bright with excitement as I opened it. “Is this the new design?” “Yep. Try it on,” Ethan said, his chin lifted with pride. “Wow, Mia, that’s gorgeous!” Sophia, hearing the commotion, came over and sat down next to Ethan. She wore her usual gentle smile, but her eyes kept flicking sideways toward him. “You’re so lucky, Mia. Ethan really spoils you. I heard that piece costs a small fortune.” She paused, making her voice even softer, laced with a playful pout. “Ethan never spoils me with gifts that expensive. I guess it’s true what they say… a sister’s love comes first.” The easygoing atmosphere in the room suddenly crackled with tension. Ethan, completely oblivious, was tapping out a work email on his phone. He didn’t notice the daggers flying through the air. “Hmm? Yeah, well, Mia wanted it,” he mumbled without looking up. I fastened the bracelet and tilted my wrist, then looked directly at Sophia. “Oh, this old thing?” I said breezily. “Didn’t Ethan just buy you that bottle of limited-edition perfume for your birthday last week?” I pretended to think for a moment. “I’m pretty sure that cost even more than this bracelet.” Ethan looked up, scratching his head. “Did it? I don’t really look at the price.” I turned to him, my expression one of deep, earnest concern. “Ethan, is Sophia unhappy with your gift? Do you think you should go out right now and buy her something more expensive?” My dad, hidden behind his magazine, let out a choked snort of laughter. Sophia’s face went pale, her hands clenching tightly around her water glass. “That’s… that’s not what I meant…” “It’s only natural for Ethan to dote on his sister,” my mother said, re-entering the room. She swept a cool, appraising gaze over Sophia. “And I believe we’ve been more than generous with the gifts for our future daughter-in-law, haven’t we?” My grandmother scooted closer to me, taking my hand to admire the bracelet. “Of course, our Mia gets the best of everything. Some people should learn not to be so greedy, getting jealous over every little thing they see.” Sophia forced a brittle smile. “I was just teasing. Mia, please don’t take it the wrong way.” “Oh, teasing. I see,” I said, giving my wrist a little shake. “For a second there, I thought you were calling my brother cheap. Scared me for a minute. I guess I’m just too sincere; I always take people at their word!” Sophia looked like she’d just swallowed a rock. She sat there, rigid and silent, unable to form a comeback. Ethan, bless his heart, was still trying to solve the problem. “Sophia, if you like the bracelet, I can get one for you, too.” My grandmother and I couldn’t help it. We both burst out laughing. 5 I was about to head out to meet a friend. The new bag Ethan had bought me was sitting on the console table in the entryway, ready for me to grab and show off. Sophia walked out of the dining room, a mug of coffee in her hand. She had that familiar, placid smile on her face as her eyes scanned the entryway. The coffee mug seemed to wobble in her grip as she made a slight detour, heading toward the console table. Alarm bells went off in my head, but before I could even move, it happened. “Oh!” Sophia cried out, lurching forward as if she’d tripped over thin air. The entire mug of dark brown liquid arched through the air and saturated my new bag. A roaring sound filled my ears. I lunged forward and snatched the bag up. A huge, dark coffee stain was already blooming across the cream-colored leather. It was completely ruined. I stared at the stain, pure rage shooting up my spine. It was a limited edition! One of only ten in the world! A gift from my brother! Destroyed! “Sophia!” My voice shook with fury. “What did you do?” Her eyes immediately filled with tears as she fumbled for a napkin. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to! I just tripped…” “Tripped?” I stared at her. “I saw you walk right toward it! You did this on purpose!” The more I looked at her, the angrier I got. I shoved the bag toward her. “If you have a problem with me, say it to my face! What did my bag ever do to you?” “I didn’t…” The tears started to fall, her voice catching in a sob. “Mia… how could you think that of me? I really, truly didn’t do it on purpose!” “Sob… I know the bag is expensive, I’ll pay for it, okay? Please, just don’t be angry. Don’t let Ethan and your parents misunderstand me…” “Pay for it?” I laughed, a sharp, humorless sound. “Open your eyes. This is a limited edition. You can’t buy it, even if you have the money! Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” I locked my eyes on hers. “Are you jealous that my brother buys me nice things? Is that it? If you’re jealous, just say it! Pulling this kind of pathetic, underhanded stunt… Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” My shouting brought the rest of the family running. Ethan appeared, looking stunned, his gaze flickering to the sobbing Sophia. “What’s going on?” 6 “Look what she did, Ethan!” I held up the stained bag. “She poured coffee all over it and now she’s claiming it was an accident!” Sophia’s crying intensified. “Ethan, I swear, it was an accident…” Ethan’s eyes darted between me and her, finally landing on her face, his brow furrowed in a deep V. “Sophia, what happened?” My mom and grandma came out then, my mom frowning. “Isn’t that the bag Ethan just gave Mia? Sophia, you say it was an accident, but Mia says she saw you walk toward the table intentionally. How do you explain that?” “I…” Sophia bit her lip, tears streaming down her face. “I honestly didn’t see it there…” “Didn’t see it?” My grandma marched over and stood beside me, a pillar of indignation. “In all her life, has Mia ever once falsely accused anyone of anything?” “If she says she saw you, then she saw you! You think you can pull the wool over our eyes? Not a chance!” My grandpa emerged from his study, leaning on his cane. He slammed the end of it down on the floor. “Unbelievable! Absolutely unbelievable! To pull a stunt like this right under our noses? To damage Mia’s things in our own home? Do you think we’re all dead?” Sophia flinched, her voice a choked whisper. “Grandpa, I really didn’t…” My grandma cut her off, taking a step forward. “Fine. Then you’ll pay for it. The full original price, not a penny less.” “And you will apologize to Mia right now. A sincere apology. Or nobody is leaving this room today!” The living room fell silent. The combined weight of my family’s stares was a physical force, pinning Sophia in place. Ethan’s expression was a complicated storm of doubt and disappointment. My parents’ faces were grim, set like stone. My grandparents were practically radiating fury. The air was so thick with tension it felt like it could shatter. Sophia was crouched on the floor, wiping her tears, her hand reaching for Ethan’s arm. He sidestepped her touch. He ignored her completely, turning to me first. “Mia, are you okay? Don’t worry about the bag… I’ll figure out a way to get you another one. Don’t be upset.” I was still too furious to speak. Seeing my silence, Sophia started crying even harder. “Ethan, I really didn’t mean it…” Only then did he turn back to her, his gaze like ice. “Crying isn’t going to solve this. Apologize to Mia.” Sophia froze, clearly not expecting such a cold response from him. She mumbled, “Mia… I’m sorry…” “I can’t hear you,” Ethan cut in flatly. “Be sincere.” She bit her lip, and this time her voice trembled. “I’m sorry.” My grandpa snorted. “Ethan’s right, tears are useless. If you didn’t at least look a little bit remorseful, I’d have you thrown out today.” Ethan added one more thing, his eyes boring into Sophia. “And remember this: from now on, you stay away from Mia’s things. If I ever see you upset her again, you won’t have to wait for my grandparents to say something. I will personally show you the door.” Sophia’s face was as white as a sheet. She nodded, finally stifling her sobs. Only then did Ethan turn back to me, ruffling my hair, his voice softening. “Don’t be angry anymore, okay? I’ll take you out for hot pot tonight, your favorite place.” 7 I thought that after that public shaming, Sophia might finally back off. She was quiet for a few days, and then she started again. One afternoon, she was curled up on the corner of the sofa, her eyes still puffy and red. She kept stealing glances at Ethan, her expression a careful blend of contrition and hope. Ethan acted like she was invisible, his attention glued to his phone, a good three feet of space between them. Suddenly, she gasped, scrambling to her feet. “Ethan, have you seen my bracelet? The one my grandmother left me?” Her voice was trembling, already on the verge of tears. Ethan gave her a cool, dismissive glance and shook his head. “I was wearing it yesterday. I took it off to clean it, and now I can’t find it anywhere.” Her voice grew more frantic. “It’s the only thing I have left from my grandmother…” She started frantically digging through the sofa cushions, tossing them onto the floor. “Calm down and think carefully,” my dad said, frowning at her from across the room. Sophia tore through several rooms in the house, her search growing more and more theatrical. “I’ve looked everywhere! It’s gone!” she cried. “What if… what if it fell off somewhere else?” Her eyes flickered around the room before finally landing on me, a hesitant, pleading look on her face. “Mia, could I… could I just look in your room? Please? That bracelet means everything to me.” Her gaze was heavy with manufactured desperation. I stared back, my face a blank mask. Seriously? She’s trying to frame me again? Ethan glanced at me, said nothing, and then stood up and walked toward the stairs. The message was clear: Go ahead. Look. The whole procession followed Sophia upstairs. She made a beeline for my desk and yanked open the top drawer. Her fingers scrabbled around inside for a moment, then froze. She let out a short, sharp gasp and carefully lifted out a broken silver bracelet. “I found it…” Her voice trembled as she held the broken chain out to Ethan, tears streaming down her face. “Ethan, why is it broken? And what was it doing in Mia’s drawer…?”

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On the eve of launching the product our team had bled for over three years to create, I overheard my wife planning to give my title—Co-founder—to an intern. Her best friend, Karina, was trying to reason with her. “Ava, think about this. Daniel has poured his soul into this project for three years. You can’t just replace him at the last second. It’s not right.” “And if you’re really that into this new programmer kid,” Karina continued, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “just keep him on as an assistant or something. Why blow everything up over him?” Ava’s voice was a low, tense murmur. “You don’t get it. I can’t give him the commitment he wants, so the least I can do is make it up to him financially.” “Daniel’s entire focus is on this launch,” she explained, her logic cold and precise. “If I tell him now, he’ll implode, and the launch will go down with him. It’s better to just announce it on stage, while he’s preoccupied. Once it’s a done deal, he won’t make a scene. He’ll have to swallow it for the sake of the company’s image, for the stock price.” I silently crushed the cigarette out in the ashtray, the last wisp of smoke curling into the darkness. Then, I turned and walked back to the bedroom. … The day of the launch, the conference hall was a swarm of flashing cameras and microphones. Just as Ava was basking in the limelight, her arm linked with the intern, Leo, Karina burst through the crowd, her face pale with panic. “It’s a disaster! Someone leaked our product! A rival company just launched a clone—they went live three hours ago and already have over eight million users!” This was my little gift to her. Yesterday afternoon, I sold the exclusive rights to our product to her biggest competitor, Apex Dynamics. … Karina dragged her into the emergency stairwell, the door slamming shut behind them. “This project was Daniel’s baby from day one,” she hissed. “Could he have done this? What if he found out about you and Leo? This feels like revenge, Ava.” Ava shook her head, her certainty absolute. “Don’t jump to conclusions without proof. Daniel comes from a family of academics, three generations of Ivy League scholars. He has too much class, too much pride. If he knew something, he would have confronted me directly, not pulled a stunt like this.” Karina wasn’t convinced. “You’re being naive! The man adores you. If he found out you betrayed him, that love would turn to hate in a second. And if he decided to retaliate, you know the Hawthorne family is not to be trifled with. We wouldn’t survive that fight.” A small, confident smile played on Ava’s lips. “You forget. He turned his back on them for me. The Hawthornes disowned him years ago. They won’t lift a finger to help him. Now, I’m all he has left. He’s a smart man; he wouldn’t burn the only bridge he has.” Karina seemed to relax, reassured by Ava’s confidence. But a flicker of confusion crossed her face. “I still don’t get it. What’s so special about this Leo kid? No offense, but from where I’m standing, he can’t hold a candle to your Daniel.” Ava’s smile softened. “Daniel and I have been together for seven years. The passion… it’s settled into a routine, a habit. Since Leo came along, I’ve felt this strange, secret guilt towards Daniel, and it’s actually made our relationship better. It’s a win-win, isn’t it?” So that’s what it was. The seven-year itch. The fading flame. Leo was just the jolt of electricity she needed to feel something again. But the moment she decided to give him my position—the position I had earned—the scales in her heart had tipped for good. Through the thin metal door, their voices carried, faint but clear. “You’re playing with fire, Ava. One day you’re going to push it too far and lose everything. You have a perfect husband, I don’t know why you feel the need to create all this drama.” Ava’s tone was unshakable, laced with a chilling certainty. “He loves me more than his own life. Remember when I was misdiagnosed with heart failure? Without a second thought, he signed a directed donation agreement, ready to give me his heart. It turned out to be a false alarm, but that agreement? It’s still legally binding.” She paused, letting the weight of her words sink in. “Do you know what that means? It means if I ever needed it, his heart is mine for the taking. A man who would literally do that for me… is he really going to throw it all away over a little fling with Leo?” “But you’ve reminded me,” she added, her voice shifting. “He’s bound to be jealous about today’s mess. I’ll just have to smooth things over later. He’s ridiculously easy to soothe, you know. A few kisses, a soft touch, and he’s happy for days.” Her voice turned wistful, almost bored. “There’s no challenge in it anymore. It’s not like Leo. He can give me the silent treatment for a week straight when he’s mad. Now that’s exciting.” Exciting? I closed my eyes, forcing a steadying breath into my lungs. She thought I was easy to soothe? It was never about that. It was because I couldn’t bear to see her worried or upset, so I let things go. I yielded. And she saw it as a lack of excitement. A bitter, self-mocking smile touched my lips. Is this just human nature? Get too comfortable, and you start craving chaos. Well, if that’s what she wanted, and I loved her so much… how could I deny her the satisfaction? I walked back into the main hall just as Ava and Karina emerged from the stairwell. She saw me and immediately rushed to my side. “Daniel, I know this is a nightmare, but we have to stay focused. The top priority is finding the traitor who did this.” Even now, she was pretending to care about my feelings. I raised an eyebrow, watching the carefully constructed concern on her face. If I hadn’t heard what I’d just heard, her performance would have been flawless. Ava took my hand, her touch meant to be comforting. “Don’t blame yourself. I know you did everything you could.” I didn’t pull away, nor did I respond. Her fingers traced absentminded circles on the back of my hand. Then her tone shifted, becoming more strategic. “Daniel, with this crisis, there’s going to be fallout inside the company. It’s going to make it hard for you to lead the team moving forward.” I played along. “So what do you think I should do?” A flicker of something—triumph?—flashed in her eyes before she suppressed it. “You know, the plan was to officially announce you as Co-founder today. But after this… if I force you into that position now, the board and the team will never accept it. So maybe…” Seeing I wasn’t interrupting, she spoke faster, as if afraid I’d refuse. “I’m thinking of letting Leo step up for now. He can be the public face, handle the press. All the negative attention, internally and externally, will be focused on him. It will take the pressure off you.” Her scheme was brilliant in its cruelty. She had already promised my title to her lover, but now, under the cover of crisis, she was twisting the narrative. Now, Leo was the noble one, taking the fall for me. And I was supposed to be grateful. My silence seemed to make her anxious. “It’s just a temporary measure, Daniel. A strategic move to get us through this. You have to understand, it’s all for the good of the company.” She paused, her voice softening into a velvet purr. “Your position in this company is unshakable. No one can ever change that. Once this storm passes, everything will go back to normal. Okay?” I looked at her, my voice low and hollow. “And what about my position in your heart?” She looked at me, confused. “My position in your heart,” I repeated. “Is that unshakable, too?” She stared for a second, then broke into a laugh, tapping my shoulder playfully. “Are you serious? Right now? I’m over here trying to figure out how to protect you, how to make this easier on you, and you’re getting jealous?” My eyebrow arched. “So this is my fault, then?” She must have sensed the shift in my demeanor, the coldness beneath the surface. Her expression changed, and she suddenly wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into a hug. “It’s just a strategy, a way to survive this. If you’re not happy with it, we won’t do it. We won’t use him.” I nodded slowly, my voice devoid of emotion. “Fine. Have it your way. If you think he has what it takes to stabilize the situation, then let him try.” My easy agreement clearly threw her off again. “…You agree?” she asked, her voice laced with hesitation. I offered a ghost of a smile. “You said he’s just a shield, a scapegoat to take the fall for me. Why would I object to that?” Without another glance at her, I pushed open the heavy doors of the venue. A blast of cold, damp air hit my face. It felt like it was about to pour. She followed me to the car, her voice a complex mix of emotions from behind me. “Daniel, once this is all over, everything will be okay. I promise.” I didn’t turn back. The storm would pass. But whether things would be okay… that was no longer up to her. With Leo installed as the new Co-founder, Ava paraded him everywhere. Investor meetings, industry galas, press conferences—they were an inseparable, high-profile duo. The looks I got from colleagues in the office became a mixture of pity and suspicion. One day, Ava called me into her office. “Daniel, we have to find the mole. I’ve set up an internal investigation team, but you were the core of the project. You know every line of code, every data stream. You have to lead the investigation.” I looked at her, a laugh bubbling in my throat. She wanted me to investigate myself. I nodded, my tone sincere. “Don’t worry. I’ll get to the bottom of this and give everyone the answers they need.” And so I began, making a grand show of leading the investigation, poring over logs and interviewing my own team members. That night, as I was “working late” with the investigators, my phone buzzed. It was my older brother. “Daniel, turn on the live stream for the charity gala right now. I’ll buy the item back for you, but you’re going to owe me an explanation for this mess.” A cold dread washed over me. I clicked the link. On the screen, the auctioneer was presenting the next item, a donation from Aura Tech’s own CEO, Ava Thorne. A magnificent blue diamond ring, once part of a royal collection. A hot rush of blood roared in my ears. My vision swam. That ring… My fingers were already dialing her number. “Daniel? Why are you calling so late? Is there… a break in the investigation?” My voice was a low growl, each word ground between my teeth. “You donated the engagement ring.” The line went silent. I could practically hear her panic. “You saw that? Look, Leo’s never been to one of these things, it was an awkward situation, I had to do something. But don’t worry, I’m going to buy it back.” “I know it was your grandmother’s,” she rushed to add. “I would never actually let it go. Relax…” I cut her off. “You used a Hawthorne family heirloom to clean up your boy-toy’s mess? He’s not just a ‘temporary measure,’ is he? He’s the apple of your eye.” It was like I had struck a nerve. “What are you talking about? He represents me now. When he looks foolish, I look foolish! Did you want me to become a laughingstock?” I let out a slow, weary sigh. “So you donated the ring.” Her voice became sharp, defensive. “I told you I’ll buy it back, no matter the cost! Isn’t that enough? What more do you want?” My control finally snapped. “It was a gift from me to you, Ava! You didn’t even have the decency to ask me.” The silence on the other end was thick with tension. Then, a soft male voice intruded. “Daniel? Look, we’re here representing the company. Aura Tech can’t afford another scandal right now. Ava was in a tough spot. This was my fault, really. I’ll make it up to you.” “She’s been so stressed lately, not eating, not sleeping,” Leo continued, his voice dripping with false concern. “Please don’t fight with her. It’s my fault. When we get back, you can take all your anger out on me.” Listening to him, my white-hot rage cooled to ice. I had forgotten about the silver-tongued charmer by her side, always ready to twist the situation to his advantage. Before I could speak, Ava’s voice cut in, fierce and protective. “Why are you apologizing to him? It was his mess in the first place! We’re here trying to fix it, and he’s whining about trivial, sentimental nonsense.” She scoffed, her voice turning to steel as she addressed me through the phone. “This just proves I was right to make Leo Co-founder. You have less strategic vision than a fresh college graduate.” Her words were a slap in the face, but they brought a chilling clarity. The depths of their shamelessness were truly something to behold. In that moment, I found myself thinking, they really do deserve each other. I made one last attempt to appeal to the woman I thought I knew. “Ava, that ring meant more than its monetary value. To me, it was priceless. That’s why I asked you to marry me with it. If you cared about me, you would have told me before you put it on that auction block.” I thought that by spelling it out, by taking a step back, she would understand. I couldn’t have been more wrong. “It’s just a ring, Daniel. A material object. Is it more important than the company’s reputation? When did you become so emotional, so incapable of seeing the bigger picture?” “I’m emotional?” I repeated her words, the last embers of hope in my heart turning to ash. “Ava, it wasn’t just a ring—” On her end, I heard Leo’s voice murmur, “Ava, come on. Mr. Davison is waiting for us.” Ava’s tone immediately became businesslike. “I have important people to talk to. I don’t have time for this petty drama. The ring is a done deal. We’ll talk when I get back.” In the end, my brother bought the ring back anonymously, for a price so absurdly high it made headlines. Ava was clearly stunned when a mysterious bidder swooped in and outbid her. The next day, she presented me with an elegant watch box. “Daniel, I was wrong about yesterday. Can you forgive me?” I opened it. Inside lay a limited-edition timepiece worth a small fortune. I closed the lid and pushed it back across the desk toward her. “There’s no need. The ring is in the past.” My voice was flat, unreadable. She blinked. “What do you mean, ‘in the past’?” I didn’t expose her lies or press the issue. “I mean you were right. It’s just an object. The people in front of us are what matter.” A look of smug satisfaction crossed her face, as if to say, I knew he’d come around. She nestled against me, the subject of the ring completely forgotten. “Let me put it on for you.” I gently blocked her hand. “No, thank you. The style is too young for me.” Her eyes darted away, and she quickly changed the subject. Life seemed to fall back into its old rhythm. She continued to tour the city with Leo, the shining power couple. Until a senior management meeting. Ava sat at the head of the table, with Leo in the seat of honor to her left. As she spoke, her fingers tapped a restless rhythm on the polished wood. My gaze froze on her left hand. On the finger where my grandmother’s diamond had once rested, there was now a simple, hand-hammered silver band. Leo made it for her. The thought was as clear and certain as a shard of glass in my mind. I didn’t confront them. But Leo decided to confront me. He cornered me in the hallway after the meeting. “Hey, Daniel. Got a minute?” I ignored him and tried to walk past. He sidestepped, blocking my path. “I heard you didn’t accept the watch Ava got for you,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips. “You keep rejecting her peace offerings, you’re going to break her heart. And when a heart gets cold, it starts looking for warmth somewhere else. You know what I mean?” I stopped and fixed him with an icy stare. He took my silence as an invitation to continue, growing bolder. He stroked the matching silver ring on his own finger. “I made this myself. It’s not worth much, but Ava says it’s more precious than any diamond. Because it’s the thought that counts, right?” He looked me right in the eye, his smugness practically radiating off him. “Tell me, Daniel. When you’re at the top for so long, do you even remember how to tell the difference between genuine affection and someone just going through the motions?” I stared at his gloating face and found it utterly pathetic. “Are you done?” I asked. He seemed taken aback by my lack of reaction. He faltered. “If you’re done,” I said, my voice dangerously quiet, “then get out of my way.” The color drained from Leo’s face. Without a backward glance, I walked away. That night, a shrill ringtone ripped me from a shallow sleep. Ava’s name flashed on the screen. “Daniel, have you lost your mind? You could have killed him!” I sat up, my mind clearing instantly. “What the hell are you talking about?” “Don’t play dumb with me! You locked Leo in the storage closet! Security found him nearly passed out from dehydration! Who else would be vicious enough to do something like that? My God, Daniel, I never knew you could be so cruel.” A cold, humorless laugh escaped my lips. “Ava, I don’t have time for these pathetic games. Instead of screaming at me, why don’t you go check the security footage?” Before she could continue her tirade, I hung up and blocked her number. Silence. Blessed silence. But less than ten minutes later, another call came through, this time from an unknown number. “Hello, am I speaking with Mr. Daniel Hawthorne? This is the Organ Transplant Coordination Center at Metropolis General Hospital. Our records indicate that you have a signed cardiac donation agreement on file, with a clause for priority matching under specific circumstances.” The voice was clinical, robotic, merely stating facts. “We have a critically ill patient who is a perfect match. His condition is extremely precarious, and he requires an immediate heart transplant. We need you to come to the hospital at once for final compatibility testing and pre-operative preparation.” My own heart felt like it had been plunged into a vat of ice. My blood ran cold. I remembered, years ago, signing that document. The only person who could activate that protocol was the intended beneficiary—her. Or someone she explicitly authorized. Ava. I never, in my darkest nightmares, imagined she would one day try to use my heart to save another man. I hung up the phone without a word. Then I sent a text to a number I’d been in frequent contact with lately. [The timeline has moved up. I can’t wait any longer.]

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The corporate retreat was a hike up Mount Sterling, and my new sneakers had rubbed my ankles raw before we even reached the halfway point. Limping and falling behind, I texted Liam: “Can you slow down? My feet are bleeding.” He replied instantly: “Hang in there. We’re almost at the top.” I watched his tall, straight back ahead and put my phone away. He never gave me special treatment in public. Our company had a strict no-dating policy. After five years together, no one knew. But when I finally reached the summit, I saw Liam kneeling in front of the new intern. She wore brand-new leather loafers, and he was gently holding her ankle while applying a bandage. “Who wears these for hiking? Does it hurt?” She wiggled her foot, blushing. “I don’t think I can walk. Mr. Song, could you… carry me down?” Amid the teasing from our colleagues, Liam—the man who kept a two-foot gap from me in the hallway—let her climb onto his back. The mountain wind howled, and my ankle burned like fire. That’s when I realized his “professional distance” was a rule only for me. On the first workday after the retreat, I left my resignation letter on my desk, next to the box of bandages he’d once left in my drawer. Then I bought a one-way ticket home. 1 The station announcer called for boarding. I stood in the waiting hall, taking one last, long look at the city I had called home for five years. Because Liam was still here. The thought of leaving had first taken root at the end of last year. During the year-end financial review, the company paid out bonuses based on project performance. There was a major project I had led from start to finish. But in the final stages, I had let the new intern, Tina, assist with some of the wrap-up tasks. When the final assessments came in, ninety percent of the bonus for that project was allocated to her. It was my work, the result of over two months of my life. Mr. Quinn, my department head, looked uncomfortable. “Anna, this was Mr. Song’s decision…” I was the one who had made an exception to bring Tina onto the project in the first place. I wanted to help a younger colleague, give her a chance to shine. I never imagined that my two months of hard work would end up making someone else look good. “Mr. Song emphasized the importance of rewarding promising new talent like Tina,” Mr. Quinn said, his voice trailing off helplessly. Tina. The intern. And Mr. Song—Liam Song—was my boyfriend of five years. 2 A bitter wind whipped across the platform. I stood at my designated boarding spot, systematically deleting the photos of us from my phone. Liam had always insisted that an office romance was a fireable offense, so our five-year relationship had remained a secret. I had to beg him just to keep these few photos, and I was forbidden from ever sharing them on social media. He was so careful about maintaining his distance that everyone in the office thought he hated me. Even when he arbitrarily reassigned my project bonus, our colleagues just saw it as business as usual. Deleting the photos brought back the memory of that day. Swallowing my rage, I had called him from the hallway. As expected, he declined the call. For five years, he almost never answered my calls during work hours. A text immediately followed: Busy. But this wasn’t personal. I marched straight to his top-floor office. Through the glass partition, I saw him leaning over Tina’s desk, explaining a proposal. As she leaned in closer, the fringe of her scarf brushed against his neck. He was brilliant, no doubt about it. He’d been put in charge of the Kingston branch at such a young age and had earned the admiration of the New York headquarters in just a few years. There was a time when I had longed for his guidance, too. But he had always brushed me off impatiently. “Figure out the basics yourself, Anna. I’m busy.” When I made a mistake and faced disciplinary action, he never intervened. “You’ll only learn if you feel the consequences.” Yet here he was, patiently explaining the fundamentals to Tina, who didn’t even know how to create a pivot table. On his desk sat the lunch I prepared for him every single day. To avoid suspicion, I always had one of the cafeteria staff deliver it for me. “Mr. Song, I skipped breakfast and I’m starving,” Tina whined, pointing at my lunchbox. “Can I have your lunch? I’ll treat you to a nice dinner later.” “Go ahead,” he said, not even looking up from his emails. Tina happily opened the container and started praising the beef brisket. Suddenly, arguing with Liam about the bonus seemed utterly pointless. As I turned to leave, the entire building plunged into darkness. A massive storm had knocked out the power, and the company sent out an emergency notice for everyone to work from home. Groping my way down the dark staircase, I saw two figures walking side-by-side in the rain. Liam was holding an umbrella, carefully shielding Tina as he guided her to his car. I arrived home looking like a drowned rat. A few minutes later, Liam called. “Anna,” he said, “I figured you had an umbrella. You made it home okay?” In the background, I could hear Tina asking if he wanted extra ginger in his ginger tea. “I made the tomato beef brisket today,” I said, my grip tightening on the phone. “How was it?” “Hm? Oh, it was fine,” he answered distractedly. After we hung up, I saw Tina’s new social media post: a picture of two mugs clinking together in a warmly lit room. The caption read: It feels so good to be someone’s favorite. 3 The train glided into the station. I dragged my suitcase aboard, vaguely hearing someone shout my name from behind. Maybe it was for me, maybe not. I didn’t want to turn around. This journey home from Southbridge had its first stop in Crestwood. And my story with Liam had begun in Crestwood. It was my first time managing a bid proposal on my own. The subway had shut down, and the line for a taxi was over four hundred people long. I was about to miss the deadline. In desperation, I called Mr. Quinn, who cursed me out before giving me Liam’s number and telling me to ask him for help. When I called, my voice trembling, Liam listened and then sighed softly. “Don’t worry. Stay put, I’m coming.” He sped through the storm, calming my panic while gently reminding me to always plan for delays. We submitted the proposal with seconds to spare. I was drenched in a cold sweat. He leaned against his car and handed me a steaming cup of coffee. That night, I made a post on my private story, visible only to him: Met a soft-hearted god in the middle of a storm. He quietly ‘liked’ it. Now, I found myself ‘liking’ Tina’s post. A minute later, it vanished. Liam called almost immediately, his tone probing. “I’m on my way home.” I kept my voice even, just telling him to drive safe. He seemed to relax. “You take care, too. Don’t catch a cold.” “Liam,” I said suddenly, “this year, for the holidays… can we tell my parents about us?” He had always refused, saying the time wasn’t right. “Let’s not,” he said, his voice low. “They’re already pushing you to get married. Let’s not add fuel to the fire.” “Okay,” I said with a small, hollow laugh, and hung up. The fever hit me hard after being soaked in the rain. For the first time ever, I took a taxi to work. As I stared out the window, Liam’s car sped past me. My apartment was actually very close to his. But the direct route, Maple Creek Drive, had always been a traffic nightmare, a guaranteed thirty-minute jam. So I never expected him to give me a ride, and he was happy to maintain the professional distance. It wasn’t until today that I realized the road had been repaired for over six months. The drive now took ten minutes. For half a year, he had driven past my front door every single day and never once offered me a ride. And today, he was coming from the direction of Tina’s apartment complex. It wasn’t on his way at all. It was a special trip. At the office, I stuck a cooling patch to my forehead and buried myself in preparing handover documents. A familiar figure appeared at my desk. Liam frowned. “You’re sick? Why didn’t you say anything?” I didn’t look up. “What’s the point? It’s not like you’d take care of me like a normal boyfriend.” Noticing colleagues arriving, I lowered my voice. “You should go. You hate being seen with me, remember?” He was silent for a moment before turning and walking away. 4 The second stop was Ashville. My connection with Liam had a chapter in Ashville, too. I had just been made a permanent employee. I went with Mr. Quinn and Liam to Ashville to finalize a contract. The night before the signing, after we’d reviewed the final proposal, we went out for a late dinner. Suddenly, a group of masked men rushed out of the darkness. Their target was clearly Liam, and they were vicious. Mr. Quinn started shouting and fumbling for his phone to call the police. If something happened to Liam, tomorrow’s contract was dead. Without thinking, I grabbed a loose brick from the pavement and charged. We both ended up taking a beating. When I saw a knife swinging toward Liam’s head, I threw myself in front of him, taking the blow on my arm. He pulled me down with him as we fell, and the last thing I heard before passing out was the wail of sirens. When I woke up, he was the only one in the hospital room. “Was it worth it?” he asked, staring at me. “Ready to die for me?” “I couldn’t just… watch them hurt you,” I whispered. “You helped me before. This time, I helped you.” I looked down and realized he was holding my hand. The gesture felt strangely familiar. I froze. “Mr. Song…” “Call me by my name,” he said softly. On the day I was discharged, the company was supposed to send a car, but he came to pick me up himself. He took me to the lake in Crestwood, his gaze as gentle as the rippling water. “I’ve been thinking a lot,” he said. “The girl who took a knife for me… if she’s willing to walk toward me, I’ll cherish her forever.” The setting sun stained the lake red. I reached out and hugged him. He leaned down and kissed my forehead. Back then, he looked at my wounds with such heartache. Now, he just frowned at my fever patch. After I finished the handover documents, a colleague nudged me to check the work group chat. In the new project channel, Mr. Quinn had added Liam. He had posted only one message: The project is entering its final phase. Full responsibility will be transferred to Tina. My colleagues shot discreet glances at me, waiting for a reaction. Everyone knew Liam disliked me, but this was a deliberate humiliation. I simply typed, “Received.” It was for the best. It made the handover even easier. I transferred all the materials to Tina, then submitted a request for sick leave. It was approved instantly. I left my resignation letter on the desk, too. 5 The third stop: Haven Springs. Haven Springs was the last place Liam and I had traveled to together. His promotion was about to be announced, and I was thrilled for him. We went to a famous hot springs resort there. The owner said that if a couple posted a photo together on social media and got 30 ‘likes’, he’d give them VIP tickets for the Ferris wheel next door. No waiting in line, straight to the top. Legend had it that if a couple kissed at the very top of the Ferris wheel, they would be happy forever and never part. I wanted to post to a private group of friends, but Liam refused. “The company forbids office romance, Anna. You know that.” “I know, but I can set the post so colleagues won’t see it.” “Have you ever heard of the six degrees of separation theory? It’s too risky.” In the end, we bought regular tickets to the amusement park. But the line for the Ferris wheel was too long, and we never got on. Seeing my disappointment, he comforted me. “Anna, it’s because I love you that I want to protect you, to protect us.” “Will you help me guard our love?” he asked. I naively agreed. And so began five years of carrying the secret alone. Compared to the countless heartaches of those five years, that fever was nothing. After submitting my resignation, I went home, packed my bags, and waited for my late-night train. Suddenly, the door opened. It was Liam. He slipped on the house slippers and walked in. “Why is so much stuff missing?” he asked, a bag of soup and porridge in his hand as he surveyed the room. “Just doing some New Year’s cleaning,” I said, clearing my throat. He set the bag on the coffee table, and as he unpacked it, he froze. “Where are our photos?” I used to have our Polaroid pictures scattered everywhere—on the coffee table, the dining table, the bookshelf. I closed my eyes. “Some colleagues came over the other day. I put them away.” He helped me sit up and handed me chopsticks. I looked at the table full of food but had no appetite. “Not hungry?” He sat beside me, reaching to put an arm around me. “Want some hot water then?” I shifted away, and just then, his phone rang. It was Tina, her voice frantic. “Mr. Song, I can’t find the signed acceptance form for the Tech Park project! What do I do?!” He stood up. “Hold on, I’m on my way.” He looked back at me, his expression all business again. “Is this how you handle a handover?” He didn’t even wait for my explanation before grabbing his coat and rushing out the door. Just like the countless times he had left me for work. Only this time, it made me feel even more ridiculous. The folder and cabinet number for the acceptance form were clearly listed on the last page of the handover document. Tina had made the presentation for that project; she knew exactly where it was. Sure enough, a little while later, a text from Liam came through. Found it. Your notes were very clear. It was followed by a money transfer for the exact amount of my missing bonus. I declined it. He sent back a frustrated emoji. Get some rest. I have a meeting. Every Friday at this time, he had a video conference with the New York headquarters. He wouldn’t look at his phone for three or four hours. I sent him one last message. Let’s break up. I blocked his number and then called my landlord to terminate the lease. 6 The fourth stop was Silver Creek, my transfer station. Two more stops and I’d be home. But the train was delayed, by at least an hour. I wasn’t in a hurry. I found a little café to kill time. The company had a branch here, too. Liam and I used to come for meetings, always in separate cars with a team of people. No one ever suspected a thing. I had slowly started to make a name for myself under Mr. Quinn. Because Liam was so demanding, everyone advised me to learn how to suck up to him. So I did. I bought him a Yuanyang tea latte and handed it to him with a serious expression. “Is this the Yuanyang?” he asked, taking it. “Yes,” I smiled. “Doesn’t Mr. Song only drink coffee?” Mr. Quinn chuckled. “Changing tastes just for Silver Creek?” Liam didn’t say anything. He just traced the word “Yuanyang” on the cup with his finger and nodded at me. “Thanks.” I practically floated back to my seat, hiding my smile as I sipped my own. It was our secret, a hidden current of affection beneath a sea of professionalism. That’s probably why I froze when I saw him accept a Yuanyang tea latte from Tina’s hands. I had just sat down with my order when my phone exploded with notifications from Mr. Quinn. You’re quitting?! Is it because of the bonus? You’re a senior employee, you need to be more magnanimous… Mr. Song saw your letter. He ripped it up! He was furious! Annoyed, I blocked him, too. Then, my landlord called. “Honey, your boyfriend came by the apartment about three or four hours ago. My daughter-in-law was there, that’s how I knew. I just thought I should tell you.” Liam must have seen my message after his meeting and found out I was quitting. “He renewed the lease for you,” she continued. “Said you’d be back.” “My daughter-in-law said he tore the place apart looking for something, then grabbed his car keys and stormed out. Looked like he was on the warpath. Honey, it’s the holidays, you two shouldn’t be fighting.” I had to laugh. Fight? I didn’t have the energy for that anymore. My phone showed a notification: 99+ calls from blocked numbers. I didn’t check who it was. I drank my tea, watched a movie, and when I figured it was about time, I stood up to head back to the platform. Just then, the barista called out to a new customer. “Sir, what can I get for you?” “A Yuanyang tea latte.” The familiar voice cut through the café’s chatter. I looked up. Liam was standing there, his face ashen, shoulders dusted with snow. He practically spat the words out. 7 “What’s the matter, Mr. Song? Not too sweet for you?” I shrugged and grabbed my suitcase to leave. He snatched the suitcase with one hand and my arm with the other, dragging me out of the café. Unfortunately, the holiday travel rush meant the waiting hall was a sea of people. There was nowhere private for him to unleash his fury. He pulled me toward an exit. “Let’s talk outside!” It was an exit-only door. I dug my heels in. “We can talk right here!” He settled for a less crowded corner, slamming my suitcase down. A vein pulsed in his forehead. “Anna Yuan, what is the meaning of this?!” “I’m going home for the holidays!” I glanced at the “Delayed” sign on the departures screen. “I went straight from your apartment to the station,” he said, his eyes bloodshot. “I called your name. Didn’t you hear me?” Still using that same boss-like tone. “Nope,” I said, shaking my head. If the train hadn’t been delayed, he might have actually caught me. Fate was a funny thing. “I floored it the whole way here.” The snow on his shoulders had melted into a dark, damp patch. “If this train hadn’t been late, you were just going to disappear, weren’t you?!” Well, yeah. What else? I sighed. “I’m going home, Liam. I’m not dying.” “You’re angry because I misunderstood about the handover, right?” He grabbed my hand. Every single one of our fights, he always boiled it down to the one, single incident that set it off. He knew perfectly well it was just the tip of the iceberg, the last straw. I pulled my hand away. “Mr. Song, I’ve already resigned. I’ll call you that one last time out of respect for our professional relationship. Please show some decency.” “Resigned? Decency?” He let out a cold laugh. “I didn’t approve your resignation, and I didn’t agree to break up.” “Seems like both of those are things I can decide on my own,” I said, reaching for my suitcase. “Do you want to see me in arbitration? Do you want to fail your next background check?” he threatened from behind me. “Do what you want.” I shook my head, unfazed. “I’m not coming back to Kingston anyway.” He blocked my path again, his eyes filled with rage. “Are you serious?!” I held up my hands. “Perfectly serious. You like Tina. I’m setting you free. Shouldn’t you thank me?” He grabbed my arm again, pulling me closer. “I don’t like her!” A flicker of something else crossed his face. “Anna, are you jealous? Is this all because of the bonus? Is that why you’re so angry?” I struggled against his grip and gestured toward a nearby patrol officer. “If you don’t let go, I’m going to scream!” Instead, he pulled me into a fierce hug. “I’m holding my own girlfriend! What law am I breaking?” He held me tight, just like he used to, his shoulder cradling my chin. “It was my fault. I should have stood up for you.” I tried to push him away but was hopelessly outmatched. Just as I opened my mouth to shout, the boarding announcement crackled over the speakers. “Passengers for train G946, boarding has now begun…” The crowd, which had given up hope, surged with renewed energy, pushing and shoving toward the gate. Someone carrying a huge gift box bumped into Liam, loosening his grip for a second. I seized the opportunity, slipping away and melting into the crowd heading for the gate. He tried to follow, but I ducked into the most chaotic line. People immediately started yelling at him for cutting. I breathed a sigh of relief as I finally reached the ticket scanner. I reached into my pocket. My ID and phone were gone. I turned around. Liam was standing at a distance, outside the line, a small, triumphant smile on his face. I took a deep breath and marched back to him. “What are you, eight years old?! Give them back!” He strode toward the main exit. “Come and get them.” Okay, maybe seven. I ran after him. He headed straight for the parking garage, his long legs covering the ground quickly. I had to jog to keep up. “Give them back!” I was frantic, hearing the final boarding call in the distance. “You changed your lock screen. And your passcode.” He stood by his car, looking at my phone. My old lock screen had been a picture of our silhouettes at an amusement park. It looked generic enough that he had “graciously” allowed me to use it. Now, it was a picture of my family’s dog. The passcode was no longer his birthday, but the dog’s. “Get in.” He opened the passenger door. “I’ll drive you home.” I held out my hand, my patience worn to a thread. “Liam, are you seriously going to steal my property?!” He pushed me into the passenger seat, leaning over me with one hand on the seatback while the other pulled the seatbelt across and clicked it into place. He looked down at my furious face. “Go ahead. Call the police. Sue me. We can spend the entire holiday season tangled up in this.”

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The word on the street was that the playboy CEO, Matthew Cooper, had a new taste in women. He’d apparently fallen for a little drama queen. I was dispatched to his mountaintop villa to manage her daily life. The moment Vivian Shaw saw me, her face soured with displeasure. “In the novels, a pretty housekeeper like this is always the boss’s canary—managing his affairs by day and warming his bed by night. Is that what she is?” The professionally trained smile on my lips twitched, almost imperceptibly. Fantastic. My reputation as a top-tier private butler with a seven-figure salary was, for the first time, being maliciously questioned based on the plot of a trashy romance novel. 1 Matthew was clearly caught off guard by her opening gambit. He shot me a quick glance. Then, he wrapped an arm around Vivian’s shoulder, his voice laced with its usual languid drawl and a hint of playful amusement. “Darling, what goes on in that head of yours? Miss Quinn earned her position through top-tier professional skill. With her here, my life is a world of a lot simpler.” He paused, adding with a meaningful look, “My ‘canaries’ are never tasked with such troublesome work. Besides, I wouldn’t dare keep Miss Quinn as one.” Vivian let out a vague “Oh,” though her gaze on me grew even stranger, filled with a certainty that screamed, I see, you’re the deep-cover, scheming female rival. She pouted, a mix of petulance and challenge in her tone. “But that’s how it’s always written in the novels! The beautiful, capable housekeeper is never just a simple housekeeper…” As she spoke, she sized me up with an expression that said, You can’t fool me. My seven-figure salary afforded me a high degree of professionalism and tolerance for this famously fickle CEO. After all, the women on his arm rotated faster than my phone’s operating system updates, with an average shelf life of three months. My professional code was simple: serve the boss, ignore the companion, and prioritize the boss’s actual needs above all else. I resumed my standard smile and gave a slight bow. “Indeed, Miss Shaw. I am simply Mr. Cooper’s household manager. Please do not question my professionalism.” My polite but firm response seemed to irk her, and a flicker of annoyance crossed her face. She lifted her chin and huffed. “Who knows what your ‘professionalism’ is used for. Matthew, look at her! Her attitude is so cold. Doesn’t she welcome me here?” Catching my eye, Matthew discreetly made a ‘one’ sign with his finger behind Vivian’s back. I understood instantly. A hundred-thousand-dollar bonus this month. The flat line of my mouth curved back into a serene, accommodating smile. Matthew playfully tapped her nose and guided her toward the bedroom. “Alright, stop overthinking. Let me show you your room. If there’s anything you don’t like, just let Miss Quinn know.” Vivian opened her mouth, but ultimately decided against continuing her performance. Once they disappeared from view, I turned away silently. The things you do for money. I had hoped this was just a minor hiccup, but Vivian’s “Billionaire Romance Novel Syndrome” went into full effect the very next day. At breakfast, I was placing Matthew’s customary Blue Mountain coffee and the financial paper at his preferred spot. Vivian, draped in a silk robe, glided over and frowned at the glass of perfectly warmed milk set out for her. “Miss Quinn,” she began, drawing out my name in a tone that brooked no argument. “This milk is wrong. I want milk from a cow in Australia, milked at dawn this very morning, bathed in the first rays of the southern hemisphere’s sun. And it must be warmed to precisely 37.5 degrees by the hands of an 82-year-old virgin. Not a degree more, not a degree less.” I was speechless. Matthew, who was reading a report, didn’t even look up. “The cows in Australia are currently asleep, and I highly doubt an 82-year-old virgin has precise temperature control.” “Vivian, this milk is air-freighted from Hokkaido, Japan. It’s excellent quality. Drink it while it’s warm.” Thwarted, Vivian shot me a resentful glare, as if it were my personal failing that I couldn’t procure such a fantastical beverage. Later that afternoon, while I was instructing the gardener on pruning the roses, she insisted on trying it herself. The moment she reached out, a thorn lightly pricked her index finger, drawing a bead of blood smaller than a pinhead. She held up the finger as if she’d been poisoned, and, with tears streaming down her face, burst into the study where Matthew was reviewing his schedule with his assistant. “Matthew! It hurts so much! I feel so dizzy!” 2 She held the finger, the wound now invisible, practically under Matthew’s nose. Matthew put down his documents, examined her finger for a long moment, and then sighed in relief. “It’s fine, the cut is tiny. Have Miss Quinn get you a bandage.” “A bandage?” Vivian’s voice shot up an octave, dripping with disbelief. “Matthew! Don’t you love me anymore?” As Matthew and I exchanged bewildered looks, she pointed a finger at me. “How could you just dismiss me with a bandage? Your woman has been injured, and the culprit is this butler!” “As a domineering CEO, aren’t you supposed to make her immediately draw 800cc of her blood as an apology to prove her loyalty and my importance?!” I took a deep breath, keeping my expression placid while my mind reeled. Eight hundred cubic centimeters? For a paper cut? Do you want me to check into the ICU to entertain you? And I’m the culprit? You’re the one who insisted on touching the roses! Matthew’s brow finally furrowed. He let go of Vivian’s hand, his tone laced with clear disapproval. “Vivian, first, Charlotte is a butler, not a mobile blood bank. Second, your blood types don’t even match.” He pointed at the nearly invisible mark. “And third, if you’d waited any longer, it would have healed on its own. What would you do with her blood? Water the flowers with it?” Vivian’s face flushed red and white in turns. She stomped her foot. “You! You’re not following the script! You’re not acting like a domineering CEO at all!” She then shot me a venomous look. Matthew rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I’m just a normal businessman. Quinn, get the first-aid kit. And while you’re at it, please brief Miss Shaw on basic medical facts and the Blood Donation Act.” “Yes, Mr. Cooper.” I fought to keep the corners of my mouth from turning up as I gracefully excused myself. After that, similar dramas played out almost daily. Vivian would throw a tantrum because the slippers I prepared for her weren’t made of crystal. Rational Matthew would say: “Crystal slippers are uncomfortable. These are silk-embroidered. They’re much better.” She would demand that Matthew order a city-wide blackout just to create a romantic atmosphere for stargazing. Rational Matthew would say: “The municipal power grid doesn’t belong to me. That would cause mass panic, economic loss, and is highly illegal.” Naturally, I wasn’t spared either. When I handed her a towel, she would intentionally let it drop to the floor, expecting me to kneel and pick it up. I would simply ignore it and signal to Mrs. Davis, our head maid, who would expressionlessly pick it up and toss it in the laundry hamper. Her most frequent question to me was: “Miss Quinn, why don’t you tell me, ‘Miss Shaw, you’re the first woman Mr. Cooper has ever brought home’?” “Are you jealous of me? Jealous that I have Matthew’s affection while you’re just a pathetic servant who has to work all day and then ‘service’ him at night?” Every time I heard this, I had to resist the urge to retort. Miss, do you have some kind of misunderstanding about Mr. Cooper? This year alone, including you, I’ve already welcomed four ‘first women’ he’s ever brought home. The guest room on the left housed a Miss Lee, the one on the right a Miss Wang, and the master bedroom… well, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve changed the sheets. Mr. Cooper’s reputation as a playboy was well-earned. His interest rarely lasted longer than three months. The value of being his “first” was, frankly, not very high. As for “servicing him at night”? Please. My overtime rates are exorbitant, and strictly for professional matters. On the surface, however, I maintained my standard butler’s smile. “Miss Shaw, Mr. Cooper’s private affairs are not my concern. My duty is to ensure your comfort during your stay.” She was never satisfied with my answers, convinced I was harboring ill intentions, ready to enact the role of the “vicious, scheming rival who torments the innocent heroine.” Initially, Matthew found her antics novel and amusing, even playing along with her “domineering CEO falls for me” fantasy for a couple of days. But his patience quickly wore thin. He was a successful businessman; time was money. He had little tolerance for trouble and baseless tantrums. Many of Vivian’s actions were beginning to cross his “trouble” threshold. He started spending more time in his study or using business dinners as an excuse to come home late. Vivian seemed to sense his growing distance, but she predictably blamed it all on me. 3 She ramped up her efforts to make trouble for me, trying to undermine me in front of Matthew and cement her status as the female lead. “Miss Quinn, the vase in my room is angled incorrectly. It’s affecting my fortune. Reposition it a hundred times until I’m satisfied.” “Miss Quinn, for dinner, I want white truffles from Alba, France. I want them now. If you can’t have them flown in, it just proves your incompetence.” “Miss Quinn, I don’t like the scent of your perfume. You are forbidden from wearing it from now on.” The only thing I ever wore was unscented, sanitizing hand soap. I dodged these absurd demands whenever possible. If a request was too outrageous, I used Matthew as a shield. “Mr. Cooper has stipulated that all such procurements require his personal signed approval.” “Mr. Cooper is in a meeting and cannot be disturbed to confirm this matter.” Her glares grew more venomous, as if I were truly the greatest obstacle on her path to love. I knew the peace wouldn’t last. This drama queen was gearing up for a grand finale. One day, during a torrential downpour, Matthew had a crucial overseas video conference and had given strict orders not to be disturbed. Vivian, inspired by some novel, appeared at his study door dressed in a soaking-wet white dress, shivering dramatically, insisting she had to go in to “bring him warmth.” Naturally, I blocked her way. “Miss Shaw, Mr. Cooper is in an important meeting. His orders were that no one is to disturb him.” “Not even me?” she asked, her eyes welling with tears. “I’m the woman he loves most! Look at me, I’m soaked! He’ll be worried sick! Or are you just stopping me so you can sneak in and ‘perform’ for him yourself?” “Mr. Cooper will certainly check on you the moment his meeting is over. Please return to your room and change into dry clothes to avoid catching a cold.” My voice was calm and unyielding, filtering out her slander. Suddenly, she lunged, trying to force her way past me. I sidestepped, subtly positioning myself in front of the door. She stumbled into empty space and, with theatrical grace, collapsed to the floor. She covered her face and began to sob. “Oh… Miss Quinn, why did you push me? I know you’re jealous, but I was just worried about Matthew…” I was at a complete loss for words. Just then, the study door opened. Matthew, on a short break, had clearly heard the commotion. He looked from the sobbing Vivian on the floor to me, standing impassively beside her, and his brow furrowed. “What’s going on?” Vivian immediately launched into her act, tears flowing on command. “Matthew, it’s not Miss Quinn’s fault! I just lost my balance. She only wanted to stop me from bothering you, so she gave me a little push. It was really gentle, I’m just too fragile. She probably didn’t mean it, she’s just so… ‘concerned’ about you…” Her manipulative performance was truly masterful. Matthew looked at me, his eyes questioning. I bowed slightly. “Mr. Cooper, I only blocked Miss Shaw’s path. There was no physical contact.” “Miss Shaw may have slipped and fallen on her own.” I gestured to the ceiling. “There is a security camera in the hallway. You can review the footage.” At the mention of a camera, Vivian’s face went white. Matthew’s gaze flickered between us. Finally, it settled on Vivian, his tone unreadable. “Vivian, I told you the meeting was important. Go back to your room. Stop making a scene.” He hadn’t immediately believed her, but he hadn’t reprimanded her either. This neutral stance seemed to fuel Vivian’s insecurity and resentment. As she was helped to her feet, she shot me a venomous look that promised this was far from over. Sure enough, a few days later, Matthew left for an overseas business trip to negotiate a major project. Before he left, he gave me a rare, specific instruction. “Keep an eye on her. Don’t let her cause any trouble.” I nodded. “Understood, Mr. Cooper.” However, the day after he left, trouble arrived.

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My husband, Adrian Thorne, was a world-renowned pianist. He despised my hands—hands he claimed were made only for coarse labor. One day, after I’d dared to dust his grand piano, he melted a bowl of searing wax. Without a flicker of emotion, he seized my hands and plunged them deep into the molten liquid. “This,” he whispered in my ear as I screamed, “is your punishment for defiling art.” To avoid his wrath, I never touched his precious piano again. Until his birthday. He came home drunk, took my hands in his, and guided them over the black and white keys, playing the favorite song of his first love. Tears streamed down his face as he murmured, “So… your hands can be this soft, too.” In that moment, I naively believed he had finally let go of the past, that he had finally seen me. But the next morning, I was held down by two burly men, forced to watch as my husband took a hammer and, with the chilling precision of a metronome, shattered the bones in my fingers, one by one. He watched me writhe on the floor, then calmly poured himself a glass of red wine. “How dare these hands,” he mused, his voice cold as ice, “recreate a melody meant only for Celeste? Garbage… must be destroyed.” 1 The fluorescent lights of the hospital ceiling were a blinding glare. I wanted to shield my eyes, but my hands were wrapped into two thick, white bundles, suspended in the air. Every breath sent a fresh spike of agony through them. My orthopedic surgeon held up the X-rays, his expression a mask of professional regret. “Mrs. Thorne, you have comminuted fractures in all ten fingers. The nerve reconstruction in three of them was not optimal.” He sighed. “From now on, you should avoid lifting heavy objects and any fine motor activities.” Adrian hadn’t just shattered my hands. He had taken a hammer to my entire life, piece by piece, and smashed it to dust. I stared at the gauze-wrapped clubs that used to be my hands. I tried to smile, but the corners of my mouth wouldn’t obey. The door creaked open, and my husband, Adrian Thorne, walked in. Impeccably dressed in an expensive bespoke suit, he was an alien of sterile perfection in the drab hospital room. He didn’t look at me. He walked straight to the window and pulled back the curtains. Sunlight flooded in, and I flinched, my eyes squeezing shut. “What did the doctor say?” he asked. His voice was as crisp and cool as the highest notes on his keyboard. I said nothing. He finally turned to me, a slight frown creasing his brow. “Lina, I’m talking to you.” “Just as you wished,” I rasped, my voice a dry, unfamiliar sound from my chapped lips. “I’ll never touch your piano again.” Adrian’s expression remained unchanged. He simply nodded. From the fruit basket he’d brought, he selected an apple and began to peel it with a small, sharp knife. The peel came off in a single, unbroken spiral, a work of art in his grasp. He had the most perfect hands in the world—long, elegant fingers, with well-defined knuckles. These were the hands hailed as “kissed by God,” capable of weaving the most magnificent symphonies. And, with the same flawless precision, of shattering his wife’s bones. He sliced the peeled apple into small, neat pieces and held one to my lips. I turned my head away, avoiding the hand that had brought me such ruin. His hand froze in mid-air. After a few seconds, he retracted it. “Don’t be difficult.” “Lina, you should know by now what you can and cannot touch.” He popped the piece of apple into his own mouth, chewing slowly, deliberately, as if savoring my pain. “That melody does not belong to you.” “Remember this lesson.” 2 After Adrian left, my mother-in-law arrived, carrying a thermos of chicken soup. She slammed it down on the bedside table the moment she entered. The greasy smell hit me like a wave, and I fought back a surge of nausea. “Lina, what did you do this time to make Adrian so angry?” The blame in her eyes was raw and undisguised. “Don’t you know his world tour starts next month? Are you trying to ruin his career by causing trouble now?” I looked at her, a bitter, hollow laugh stuck in my throat. I was causing trouble? “Mother, your son broke my hands.” She scoffed, pulling a chair to the bedside and studying me with an air of aristocratic disdain. “If he hit you, you must have done something to deserve it.” “I told you from the start, a woman from your background was never good enough for our Adrian. What can you do besides housework? And now you’ve even forgotten your place and touched his piano?” “That isn’t just a piano—it’s his life! Better for you to lose a hand than for him to lose his future!” And my life? Was my life not a life? I closed my eyes, unwilling to argue. Trying to reason with a Thorne was a fool’s errand, an argument you were destined to lose before it even began. Seeing my silence, she must have mistaken it for submission. Her tone softened slightly. “Don’t blame Adrian. He’s been through so much.” “Celeste has been gone for years, but he’s never moved on.” Celeste. Adrian’s first love. The only woman he deemed worthy of touching his piano, a fallen piano prodigy. “He was drunk yesterday. He thought you were Celeste. That’s why he lost control. As his wife, you should be more understanding. It’s a small price to pay.” My eyes snapped open, the hatred in them so intense it could have burned her. “So, when he realized I wasn’t Celeste, he decided to destroy my hands?” My glare made her flinch, but her shock quickly morphed into anger. “What is this attitude? You think you’ve grown wings?” “Let me tell you something, Lina. There are countless women who would kill to be Mrs. Thorne. Don’t be so ungrateful!” She stormed out, slamming the door behind her. I stayed in the hospital for two weeks. Adrian never visited again. But every day, a delivery of fresh, expensive fruit and gourmet supplements would arrive, piling up on my nightstand. A silent, condescending charity. 3 On the day of my discharge, the Thorne family driver was there to pick me up. I refused to get in the car and called a taxi instead. The driver looked distressed. “Ma’am, Mr. Thorne instructed me…” “Tell him I need some time alone.” I went back to the house I shared with Adrian. When I pushed the door open, a pair of new women’s slippers sat in the entryway, a size too small for me. In the living room, the black Steinway grand piano gleamed, polished to perfection. A young woman I’d never seen before was carefully dusting the lid with a feather duster. She started when she saw me, looking flustered. “You are?” I didn’t answer. My eyes moved past her to a woman’s trench coat draped over the sofa. It was exactly Celeste’s style. Looking closer, the girl herself bore a striking resemblance to her. Understanding seemed to dawn on her, and a blush crept up her cheeks. “I’m the new piano maintenance specialist Mr. Thorne hired. My name is—” “Get out.” My voice was quiet, but it held a steel that couldn’t be disobeyed. The girl froze. “But Mr. Thorne…” “I said, get out,” I repeated, looking her straight in the eye. My expression must have terrified her. She hastily put down her things and fled. I walked to the piano. This instrument was Adrian’s sacred ground. He once told me my hands were only good for washing vegetables, that to touch his piano was to defile it. In three years of marriage, I had never laid a finger on it. Now, my hands were ruined. I could never play again. I could no longer threaten the sacred memory of the woman in his heart. I reached out with my still-bandaged hand and let it rest gently on the piano lid. It was cold and hard, just like Adrian’s heart. The front door opened behind me. Adrian was home. His eyes fell on my hand on his piano, and his gaze turned to ice. “What did I tell you?” His voice was a low growl, thick with a rage that felt ready to tear me apart. I didn’t turn around. I simply slid my stiff, unbending fingers across the smooth, polished surface. “Adrian, let’s get a divorce.” The silence in the room was absolute. After a long moment, a cold laugh escaped his lips. “Divorce?” He strode toward me, his tall frame looming over me, casting me completely in his shadow. “Lina, you have the audacity to mention divorce to me?” “Your family, your home, everything you have—I gave it to you. Without me, you are nothing.” He was right. To marry him, I had given up my career, abandoned my studies, and cut off nearly every friend he didn’t approve of. I had become an island, existing only in his orbit. “I’ll leave with nothing,” I said, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. I had nothing to begin with. He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look up at him. His eyes were filled with contempt and ridicule, as if he were looking at an ant trying to challenge a giant. “Do you think divorce is a game you can start and stop whenever you please?” “Lina, I make the rules here.” “You want to leave? Fine. First, learn how to be an obedient dog.” I laughed, a cold, sharp sound, and met his gaze without flinching. “That girl from before… she’s the replacement you found for Celeste, isn’t she? What value do I have left? Wouldn’t a divorce be more convenient for you both?” He released me with such force that I stumbled backward. “Lina, you don’t get to walk away so easily. You have a debt to Celeste that you’ll spend the rest of your life repaying!” “Until you learn to be an obedient dog, you will stay right here.” He pulled out his phone and made a call. “Get Mr. Davies on the line. I need a new postnuptial agreement drafted.” “Yes. Regarding loyalty and obedience.” He hung up and walked out without another glance in my direction. 4 Adrian didn’t come home that night. I sat alone in the vast, empty living room until the sun came up. The next day, Mr. Davies arrived. He had been a witness at our wedding, but now his face was a mask of cold professionalism. He handed me a document. “Mrs. Thorne, this is the new agreement Mr. Thorne asked me to prepare.” I took it and skimmed through the pages. The clauses were a masterclass in humiliation. I was forbidden from initiating a divorce, from disobeying any of Adrian’s wishes, from having any unnecessary contact with any man. Even if my own parents wanted to see me, they would first have to submit a written request to Adrian for approval. And the final clause: if I violated any of the terms, all assets in my name—including the house my parents currently lived in—would be unconditionally repossessed. The house had been a “gift” from Adrian before our wedding, but the deed was in my name. He had been shackling me all along, just waiting for me to take a wrong step. “Mrs. Thorne, if you have no objections, please sign here.” Mr. Davies offered me a pen. My hands were still wrapped in bandages. I couldn’t even hold it. The sight was both pathetic and absurd. I looked at the lawyer. “And if I don’t sign?” Mr. Davies adjusted his glasses. “You should be more aware of Mr. Thorne’s methods than I am. He won’t give you the opportunity to say no.” I laughed. Of course. How could I forget? He was Adrian Thorne, the golden child of fortune. He always got what he wanted. Including a person’s soul. Just then, my phone rang. It was an unfamiliar number. With my one slightly mobile finger, I managed to swipe to answer. “Is this Lina?” The voice on the other end was gentle and strangely familiar. “This is Samuel Reed.” 5 Samuel Reed. He was a senior from my university, the only person who had ever truly understood my music. We lost touch after he went abroad for his medical fellowship. “Samuel?” My voice trembled. “It’s me. I’m back in the country. Just got your number.” Samuel paused. “You don’t… sound so good. Are you okay?” I clutched the phone, my eyes darting from Mr. Davies’s smug face to the humiliating contract on the table. Tears welled up, hot and sudden. But I couldn’t cry. Not now. I sniffled, forcing my voice to sound as normal as possible. “I’m fine, Samuel. Just a bit of a cold.” “Where are you? Are you free to meet? I’m at a medical conference right near your neighborhood.” My heart skipped a beat. “I…” Adrian’s warning echoed in my ears. No unnecessary contact with any man. Mr. Davies was watching me like a hawk. I glanced out the window and saw a banner across the street: “International Medical Exchange Center.” A wild, desperate idea took root in my mind. “Samuel, I can’t get out right now. But… could you do me a favor?” “Of course. Anything.” “Call the police for me,” I said, my voice low and urgent. “The address is 22 Blackwood Lane. Someone is being held here against their will.”

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My parents were away on a business trip, leaving me and my little brother, Mark, to fend for ourselves. We decided to kill time with a game of “Something You Don’t Have.” I smiled, laying my palm flat on the table. “Mom baked me a birthday cake from scratch.” Mark just shrugged, casually folding one finger down. “My name is on the deed to the house.” I froze. He pressed his advantage, a smug grin spreading across his face. “And I’m the sole beneficiary on all of their life insurance policies.” My hand hovered in mid-air, fingers stiff. My mind went completely blank, the next sentence I’d been about to say catching in my throat. What I had wanted to say was that I have cancer. And I probably don’t have much time left. 1 “What, you don’t believe me?” Mark scoffed, sauntering over to the safe. He pulled out two official-looking folders and a stack of printed contracts, laying them all out neatly in front of me. “See for yourself, genius.” My hands trembled, but I opened them. The three-bedroom house we were living in, the old cottage out in the country, and more than a dozen insurance policies. Mark Miller’s name was on every single one. And me, Abby Miller, I was nowhere to be found in that thick stack of documents. Not a ghost of a mention. “So? Looks like you lose this round, huh?” Mark crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair like a king on his throne. He was right. I had lost. I didn’t even know the combination to that safe. But he had opened it without a second thought. “Cat got your tongue? You’re not gonna play your next card?” He waved a hand in front of my face, still waiting for me to continue the game. I closed the folders and stacked the contracts one by one, my voice a dry rasp. “Fine. You win.” Before this moment, Mark and I had a lifetime of sibling rivalry under our belts, a war of attrition where he never seemed to gain any ground. Mom always had my back. “Abby’s a girl, Mark,” she’d say. “A gentleman always lets the lady have her way.” So, I always got the first pick of snacks, the first choice of games. I even had the biggest bedroom in the house. Growing up, Mark would constantly whine in my ear, “Mom and Dad are so biased. You’re the only one they really love.” All these years, I’d basked in that favoritism while secretly feeling a pang of guilt for my brother. So even when he’d tell me to drop dead, I’d just brush it off as him blowing off steam. But now, I really was dying. Just last month, I was diagnosed with late-stage cancer. The doctor told me it had already spread. Surgery was off the table; there was no chance of success. All I had left was to live out my remaining time as comfortably as possible, to manage the pain. Because I truly believed my parents “loved me most,” I couldn’t bear to tell them the truth about my illness. I’d planned to use their business trip as an opportunity, to use this silly game as a way to gently break the news to my brother—the one person I thought hated me most. But now… now I didn’t want to say a thing. Mark cleared his throat. “You don’t have to give up so fast. You’ve still got three fingers left.” I just smiled and shook my head. “I’m done. It’s getting late. We should get some sleep.” He noticed the shift in my mood, his tone turning contemptuous. “Hey, don’t tell me you’re actually going to go kill yourself over this.” “If you do, make sure you do it somewhere else. I don’t want it coming back on me.” It was his typical way of talking, something I’d grown used to. But hearing that word—kill—this time, my nose stung, and my eyes began to burn against my will. I paused, saying nothing as I walked straight to my room. Just as I reached the door, I heard his voice again. “There’s one more thing I didn’t tell you. Do you want to—” “No.” I didn’t turn around, forcing a calm smile. “I don’t want to hear it. Just go to bed, Mark.” I quietly shut the door behind me and pulled out the bucket list I’d made a few days ago. Climb a mountain to see the sunrise together. Take one last family photo. A trip to the beach… All these things I wanted to do with my family before I died. Was there even any point now? I fought back the searing sting in my eyes, stubbornly refusing to let a single tear fall. 2 At one in the morning, my body ached so intensely that sleep was impossible. Wiping the cold sweat from my forehead, I decided to look for some painkillers in Mom’s drawer. It was where she always kept her medicine, but now, tucked inside, was a diary I’d never seen before. The cover was yellowed with age, the handwriting unmistakably hers. “My sweet Mark smiled for the first time today. His eyes are like little stars, so full of love.” “Mark has a fever again. His father and I stayed up all night watching over him. Our hearts are breaking…” I flipped through page after page, but my name was nowhere to be found. It wasn’t until the very last few pages that I finally found a mention of me. “Mark is starting to fight for things, but he’s three years younger than his sister. He can’t win. Sometimes I just want to slap that girl.” “What can I do? I told Mark today that Mom and Dad will make it up to him in secret, giving him double of whatever he wants.” “It’s just some toys and snacks, what are they worth? Let her win for now. When she’s happy, she’ll feel guilty towards her brother. Trading a few small favors for our son’s long-term benefit… it’s a brilliant deal.” I placed the diary back in the drawer, my body shivering with a sudden, uncontrollable cold. So that was what she really thought. So their love for me had been nothing more than a calculated scheme. For as long as I could remember, she and Dad had always let me win in all the small, insignificant battles. A few bags of chips, some toys, a slightly bigger bedroom. In exchange, my brother got the property, the insurance policies, and their genuine, heartfelt love. The parents I had adored my entire life… they didn’t love me at all. A wave of icy nausea washed over me. I scrambled to the bathroom, violent spasms seizing my stomach and rising in my throat. Eventually, I collapsed onto the cold tile floor, gasping for breath. I don’t know when Mark came in, but he was clearly startled by the sight of me. “Did you eat something bad?” I wiped the tears from my face, my voice weak. “Stomach cramps.” “Aren’t there painkillers in Mom’s drawer?” I shook my head. “They’re all gone.” “God, you’re such a pain.” He sounded incredibly annoyed, but he still turned and started putting on his jacket by the door. “Wait here. I’ll go buy you some. But it’s a fifty-dollar delivery fee, and I want it upfront.” As the front door clicked shut, I used the wall to pull myself up and happened to see Mark’s phone, left behind on the entryway table. The screen lit up with the ping of a few new notifications. I walked over, my eyes fixing on the latest message. It was from a group chat named “Our Perfect Family.” There were three members. And me, the outsider, had never known it existed. Mom: “Honey, Dad and I just finished up here. We’ll be back in a couple of days. I managed to get you that limited-edition figure you wanted! It was the very last one, I had to pay a fortune for it.” Mom: “P.S. When you get back to campus, make sure you hide it in your dorm room. Don’t you dare tell your sister. She was going on and on about wanting one three months ago.” I let out a bitter laugh and turned off the screen. A strange calm settled over me. It didn’t matter. When you’re about to die, nothing really matters anymore. 3 The day my parents came home, a light rain was falling from a gray sky. As always, the first thing they did was show me the gifts they’d brought. “Abby, honey, that figure you told me you wanted was sold out everywhere. But don’t worry, Mom pulled some strings and got you this mini version.” Pulled some strings? I looked at the crudely made knockoff, and all I could feel was a bitter, biting irony. “What’s wrong? You don’t like it? It took a lot of effort to get, you know.” But what could I do? I couldn’t force a smile. Seeing the look on my face, my dad’s temper flared. “Abby Miller, your mother went to great lengths and spent a lot of money to bring that back for you, and you have the nerve to look so ungrateful? Have we spoiled you rotten?” “Look at your brother! He didn’t get anything, and he’s not acting like a brat!” He didn’t get anything? I’m the ungrateful one? Had they been playing this part for so long they’d started to believe their own lies? In that moment, I decided I wasn’t going to let this go. I asked, my voice cold and sharp, “Mom, are you sure you couldn’t find the limited-edition one?” The words hung in the air. Everyone froze. My mother’s eyes darted to Mark, and she muttered under her breath, “You silly boy, I told you not to tell her.” I laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. “You don’t have to look at him, Mom. I already know everything.” “You… what do you know?” Her confidence was gone, her words stumbling over each other. It was Mark who spoke up, his voice steady. “Mom, I told her. She was going to find out about the house and the insurance eventually. Why keep lying?” The air grew thick with a heavy silence. My parents’ faces turned ugly. Under my unwavering gaze, my mother slowly composed herself, her voice regaining its familiar tone of self-righteousness. “Fine. If you know, then there’s nothing left to hide.” “You put your hand on your heart and tell me, Abby. In every single fight between you and Mark, haven’t your father and I always taken your side?” “We gave you all the attention, and we gave Mark the assets. It’s perfectly fair.” I laughed again, the sound hollow. Fair? What a joke. A familiar, twisting pain clawed at my stomach. I clapped a hand over my mouth, doubling over as I ran for the bathroom, dry-heaving violently. My mother, dropping her aggressive posture, followed me to the door, a flicker of concern in her voice. “Wh-what’s wrong? Did you eat something that disagreed with you?” I shook my head, leaning against the wall, unable to stand up straight. Mark frowned. “Throwing up again? Do you need me to get you more painkillers?” My mom looked at me, confused. “What do you mean, again? Has this been happening a lot?” Without thinking, I wiped my mouth and asked with a bitter smile, “Mom, if I were sick… would you be worried about me?” She didn’t answer. Instead, her gaze dropped to my stomach, a complex expression clouding her face. In the next second, she lunged into the bathroom, her hand flying up and connecting with my cheek in a stinging slap. “You have the nerve to say you’re sick? Abby, you’re only twenty-one! You haven’t even graduated from college, and you let some guy knock you up?” What? How could she think that? My mother’s voice dripped with fury. “I ran into your professor the other day. She mentioned you had several boys chasing after you at school. Now I see she was trying to warn me, wasn’t she!” “Running around, throwing yourself at boys at your age! You’re a disgrace!” Hearing the commotion, my dad stormed in from the living room and grabbed me by the collar of my pajamas. “Have you no shame? Is everything I ever taught you just gone to waste?” My legs gave out from under me, and I crumpled to the floor, but he yanked me back up. “I’m not,” I argued weakly. “I’m really sick, I…” My dad wasn’t listening. He dragged me furiously towards the front door and, without a shred of mercy, shoved me outside. “Would your mother lie? Would she be wrong about something like this?” “You want to be shameless? Then get out and think about what you’ve done!” The rain was coming down harder now. I pounded on the door, my fists raw, but it was no use. Eventually, I gave up and just started walking, aimlessly, down the cold, empty street, soaked to the bone. When they threw me out, I was only in my pajamas and slippers. I hadn’t even had time to grab my phone. Cold and hunger began to set in. I had no idea where to go. As dusk settled, I stopped a passerby and borrowed their phone, swallowing my pride to call my mother. “Mom, it’s getting dark. I don’t have my phone or any money. Can you please let me come home?” “No. Your father said you can come back when you’re ready to admit you were wrong.” Tears welled in my eyes. “But what was I wrong about? I told you, I’m not pregnant. I’m just sick.” My dad snatched the phone away, his voice booming through the receiver. “Abby, are you still lying? I see you haven’t learned a thing!” “If you have nowhere to go, then go find the father of that bastard child and make him take responsibility for you!” The line went dead, leaving only the dull hum of the dial tone. I numbly handed the phone back, feeling like a stray dog left out in the storm. The rain seemed to fall even harder. I hugged myself, walking blindly into a dingy little motel. I had a few crumpled bills in my pajama pocket, just enough to afford a single night in a place like this. The room was dark and damp, with just a single, sagging bed and a shared bathroom down the hall. I drew the thin curtains, my stomach growling. I checked my pocket again. A few dollars left. I locked the door and decided to go to the small convenience store across the street to buy a cup of ramen. The narrow, poorly lit hallway was filled with the loud, foul-mouthed shouts of a few drunk men. I pulled the hood of my pajamas over my head, kept my eyes on the floor, and tried to hurry past them. Suddenly, a tall man blocked my path, his eyes raking over me in a way that made my skin crawl. “Hey, sweet thing. How much for the night?” I ignored him, my heart pounding, trying to stay calm as I walked past. My legs felt like jelly. When I got back to the motel, the men were gone. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding and fumbled for my key. As I went to unlock the door, a hand clamped over my mouth from behind. He dragged me into a corner of the hallway, his voice urgent and rough. “I’ll give you a hundred bucks. You in or not?” I shook my head frantically, but all that came out were muffled whimpers. The man’s patience snapped. “Don’t play hard to get. I saw you earlier. What good girl checks into a sleazy motel at night wearing pajamas? You’re here for business, right?” I struggled with all my might, but his grip only tightened, squeezing the air from my lungs. Soon, my strength failed me. He dragged me violently into his room. The world became a blur of pain as he slapped me across the face, then grabbed a heavy glass ashtray from the nightstand and brought it down on my head. My head swam, and a hot bloom of pain was the last thing I felt before the world went dark.

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It was the year the golden boy heir and his one true love were at their most idyllic. Even after marrying me, he remained celibate, saving himself for her. On our third wedding anniversary, he brought a child home from an orphanage. Before I could speak, a stream of live comments flickered across my vision. “OMG I’m crying, the male lead actually brought home the son he had with the female lead.” “Yep, now the villainess will raise the kid, and the main couple can fake their deaths and escape to live their perfect life together.” “The villainess will definitely raise the boy as her own, give him the best education, and when he’s old enough to inherit the company, the main couple can return for their happy family reunion. It’s perfect!” Just as the comments predicted, the news of the heir’s “death” broke the very next day. I didn’t cry. I didn’t throw a fit. I simply rested a hand on my seven-week-pregnant belly and quietly returned the child to the orphanage. I have my own child to think about. Why would I raise someone else’s? 1 “Sienna, I’ve adopted this boy from the orphanage. He’ll take my last name, Rothschild. His name is Michael. You can call him Michael.” Peter Rothschild finished speaking and nudged the small, two-year-old boy toward me. “Michael, say hello to your aunt.” The boy, Michael, bowed obediently, his voice soft and high. “Hello, Auntie!” I was about to respond when the world shimmered, and lines of text began scrolling through the air in front of me. 【OMG I’m crying, the male lead actually brought home the son he had with the female lead.】 【Yep, now the villainess will raise the kid, and the main couple can fake their deaths and escape to live their perfect life together.】 【The villainess will definitely raise the boy as her own, give him the best education, and when he’s old enough to inherit the company, the main couple can return for their happy family reunion. It’s perfect!】 And just like that, I understood. I was nothing more than a side character—the villainess—in a trashy romance novel. Peter and his one true love were the main characters. And their son, this little boy Peter claimed to have adopted, was the story’s young hero. The live feed also told me that tomorrow, Peter would fake his death to run off with his beloved, leaving their son in my care. Well, we’d just have to see about that. The next morning, I was jolted awake by my phone ringing. The moment I answered, Peter’s mother, Eleanor, was on the line, her voice choked with hysterical sobs. “Sienna! Peter is dead!” The comments exploded again. 【Here we go! The main couple is finally together!】 【What are we waiting for? Show us the bed scene!】 【Don’t you dare censor it! I’m a premium member, there’s nothing I can’t see.】 So, it was all true. A small, humorless smile touched my lips. I hung up the phone. It didn’t take long for the comments to confirm that Peter and his sweetheart were already tangled in the sheets, wasting no time at all. Fine. Let them have their fun. I knocked on Michael’s door. “Michael, sweetie, wake up and get dressed. Auntie is taking you somewhere wonderful.” 2 To make it look authentic, Peter had actually gone through the official adoption process with the orphanage. It was easy for me to find the right one. The director looked troubled. “This is…” It was obvious Michael had never lived here before. The place was completely foreign to him. I pushed him gently toward the director. “Peter Rothschild is dead. The adoption is void. I’m bringing him back.” The director hesitated. I pressed, my voice intentionally sharp. “Ma’am, is this not the boy from your records? The paperwork is all in order. Or… should I perhaps take this child to the police instead?” That did the trick. The director scooped Michael into her arms. I patted Michael’s head. “You be a good boy and have fun here, okay?” Michael, who knew neither me nor the director, suddenly burst into tears. “Mommy! I want my mommy!” he wailed. The director quickly signaled for a staff member to take him away, then turned back to me. “Is Mr. Rothschild really… gone?” “He is. An accident. I’m on my way to arrange his funeral now. You should come, Director.” Her face went pale. Before leaving, I handed her a thick envelope of cash. It wasn’t for Michael. It was to ensure she stopped asking questions about whether Peter Rothschild was really dead. On the drive back, my phone was ringing off the hook. Everyone was telling me to come and take charge. Peter’s parents, Eleanor and Richard, had both been hospitalized from the shock. The doctors said his father had nearly had a stroke. It was clear they knew nothing about Peter’s plan. To deceive his own parents just to be with the woman he loved… I wasn’t sure if I should applaud his epic romance or pity his parents for raising such a son. At the hospital, I took Eleanor’s hand. “Mom, I don’t know what to say to ease your pain, but I want you to know you still have me. I’ll take care of you and Dad.” “And,” I added, gently placing a hand on my stomach, “I’m pregnant. Seven weeks.” The news was a powerful balm, easing the sharpest edges of their grief. They wanted to check out immediately, but I insisted they stay. “The baby in your belly is the only heir to the Rothschild family,” they said, their voices firm. “We have to protect you, make sure the baby is born safe and sound.” Naturally, they wouldn’t let me handle the funeral arrangements alone. And naturally, I wasn’t going to tell them that the child in my belly wasn’t Peter’s. In our three years of marriage, Peter had been so devoted to his one true love that we slept in separate rooms. He never laid a finger on me. Choosing another man wasn’t about revenge; it was about fairness. He had his woman, so I would have my man. More importantly, I desperately needed an heir. In truth, I had been planning to ask Peter for a divorce right before this whole charade began. Our marriage was a corporate merger of families, devoid of affection. I had endured it for three years to satisfy my parents. Divorcing after three years was for me, for my future. I just never imagined Peter would fake his own death, abandoning not only his parents but also his son to my care. What did he take me for? A free nanny and a living ATM? If that was how he wanted to play, then he couldn’t blame me for using my new status as the grieving Rothschild widow to take everything that was once his. He drew first blood. I was more than ready to finish the war. 3 After the funeral, Richard and Eleanor immediately transferred a significant portion of the company’s shares to me, along with a handsome sum in cash. It wasn’t so much a reward as it was a way to tie me to them. For some wealthy families, a child is the ultimate bargaining chip. “And when the baby is born,” they promised, “boy or girl, there will be another billion waiting for you.” “Next Monday, Sienna, you will officially take over as CEO. Prepare yourself.” I accepted it all with a gracious smile. The live comments went wild. 【Are these two old fools blind?! The male lead never touched her! She’s carrying some bastard’s child! BASTARD!】 【This villainess is pure evil. A viper. I can’t watch her deceive these poor old people anymore.】 【AAGH, I’m so pissed!】 【The one I feel worst for is Michael! That evil bitch just dumped a two-year-old back in an orphanage!】 【I hope her baby miscarries!】 【Can anyone warn the main couple?!】 I paid them no mind. I turned to Richard and Eleanor. “I’m not yet three months along. Let’s keep the pregnancy quiet for now.” They were even more cautious about this baby than I was, terrified of losing the sole heir to the Rothschild dynasty. Of course, that was assuming Richard didn’t have a secret love child tucked away somewhere, something Eleanor would never, ever allow. Once my belly began to show, I disappeared from public life. I didn’t even go to the office, choosing instead to spend my pregnancy at a private, high-security wellness retreat. During that time, the live comments were obsessed with the main couple’s budding romance. While Peter and his true love were living out their sweet, romantic fantasy, I gave birth to a son. Richard and Eleanor were overjoyed and made good on their promise immediately. To secure my hold on the entire Rothschild legacy, I temporarily gave my son their last name. We called him Noah. To this day, Richard and Eleanor believe Noah is their only grandchild. Along with my own parents, the four of them have smothered him with a grandparent’s affection, spoiling him to the point of absurdity. That’s why, once Noah turned three, I began to step back from work to oversee his education personally. A comment drifted by: 【That kid hit the jackpot. Doting grandparents, and a strict mother paving his entire future for him. Meanwhile, Michael has turned into a total brat.】 【I’m just now realizing something serious… I think the villainess is the real main character of this story!】 【Honestly, I’ve been thinking this for a while. Are the main couple idiots? Forgetting their parents is one thing, but abandoning their own child to the villainess?】 【If they don’t come back soon, Michael’s life is completely ruined.】 【That’s on them. If you don’t want to raise a kid, don’t have one.】 【They probably didn’t want the kid, just the process of making him.】 【They’ve been erased from official records, their fortune has been stolen from under their noses, and they’re still off playing house somewhere.】 Reading these comments, I felt a sense of relief. I truly hoped the so-called main characters would stay lost in their bubble of sweet, sweet love forever. 4 The year Noah turned eighteen, he officially took over the Rothschild empire. By that point, he had already earned every academic degree he could possibly acquire. I’ll admit, it wasn’t just my upbringing. Noah is a genius in his own right. It was also due to the quality of the genetic material I selected—the absolute best of the best. The live comments had become less frequent over the years, but the same people who once cursed me as a villainess were now firmly on my side. Whenever I faced a major decision or someone plotted against me, they would give me a heads-up. Over time, they realized I could see them. Now, we’re more like friends. After eighteen years, the readers have grown tired of the whole “protagonist halo” trope. If the main characters only want to focus on romance, if they won’t work hard or raise their own child, then losing everything is the only logical conclusion. A comment popped up: 【The main couple is coming back.】 【What main couple? They’re nobodies.】 【Peter and Sophie are coming back to reap the rewards. It’s disgusting.】 【Forget the rewards. They should go check on their precious son. He’s a full-blown delinquent.】 I only knew about Michael from the comments. He dropped out of middle school to “make it big” down south, but he found real work too tiring. He bounced between dead-end jobs, never making any money, but he picked up every vice: drinking, gambling, and whoring around. He reveled in the shallow pleasures of his own decay. The Michael of today was nothing but a low-life hoodlum. A few comments still condemned me. 【I still think the villainess went too far. Even if she didn’t want to raise Michael, she should have taken him to his grandparents. He turned out this way because of her. She’s fully responsible.】 I didn’t have to say a word. Others immediately jumped to my defense. 【Shouldn’t his parents be the ones responsible for him?】 【If Peter had taken Michael to his parents in the first place, I’d have nothing to say. But he wanted the villainess to raise his heir for him, then waltz back in and reclaim him? He was just using her!】 I ignored the debate and called for Noah. He sat down in front of me. “Mom, what is it?” I hesitated. “Noah, I need to tell you…” That your last name isn’t Rothschild. That your grandparents have no blood relation to you. My own parents knew, of course. For eighteen years, the three of us have carried this secret. I know how much Noah loves his grandparents, and I didn’t know how to tell him the truth. Noah moved from his chair to sit beside me on the sofa. “Mom, what’s wrong?” I couldn’t find the words. Facing him, I knew I couldn’t just state with conviction that I had done nothing wrong. I… Eleanor swept into the room. “Can’t you two talk later? We need to go.” Noah looked at me, concerned. “Mom…” I let out a long breath. “Let’s go.” Tonight was the grand gala celebrating Noah’s official takeover of the Rothschild corporation. I could tell him after the party. But shortly after the evening began, just as Richard and Eleanor finished their announcement, Peter and Sophie appeared.

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While tidying my husband’s suit, I felt a neatly folded paper in his pocket. It was a notice from a private academy—not our daughter’s. Unfolding it, I saw the student’s name: Leo Foster. The parent’s name: Mark Foster. My husband is Mark Foster. I drove straight to the school, entered the office, and introduced myself as Leo’s parent. The teacher said, “Leo’s parents just left. They can’t be far.” I followed her direction and soon saw him: my husband, holding a little boy’s hand with one arm, the other around a strange woman’s waist, laughing softly. I called him, my voice calm. “When will you be home?” He sounded startled. “This trip might take three or four days.” I hung up, lifted my phone, and took a clear, damning photo of the three. “Mark,” I whispered. “I’m keeping this little surprise.” 01 The next day, I attended the school’s parent-teacher mixer in my capacity as a major shareholder. It didn’t take long to spot her, Lisa, working the room in a simple white dress. Her makeup was understated, her demeanor gentle and elegant. I walked straight up to her and stopped at her side. “Ms. Vance, I presume? I’ve heard so much about you. That dress is quite striking.” She turned at the sound of my voice. The instant she saw me, the color drained from her face. I smiled inwardly. This delicate flower wasn’t as innocent as she looked. Her voice was tight as she took an unconscious half-step back. “Hello… it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Just a simple greeting and she was already a bundle of nerves. So much for poise. “My husband is one of the school’s investors,” I said smoothly. “I’m here on his behalf today. I hear you’re on the PTA committee.” Her voice returned to normal, but her eyes darted nervously. “I just do what I can.” “It’s good to find the time to do something meaningful for the children,” she added. “Otherwise, being a stay-at-home mom just means your whole world revolves around your husband and kids.” Perfect. A little jab at my current “unemployed” status while burnishing her own image. I noticed her unconsciously rubbing the ring on her fourth finger. The design was identical to the one in my jewelry box at home. My tone was casual, but my words were a scalpel. “That’s a beautiful ring. It looks expensive. Is it your wedding band?” She instinctively tried to hide her hand, her expression turning to one of sheer panic. She opened her mouth, but only a choked, trembling sound came out. I didn’t expect an answer. “Your son attends school here, I take it? What grade is he in?” She answered cautiously. “The… the second grade. He’ll be eight in August.” Eight in August. I did the math in my head. What a coincidence. Nine years ago, Mark had claimed he needed to “expand the company’s regional markets” and started taking frequent, lengthy business trips. For over six months, he was home for less than two weeks total. Suddenly, it all made sense. Back then, our daughter Sophie had just been born. He was either “at a business dinner” or “on his way to one.” The rare times we spoke on the phone, it was always rushed. “You’re working so hard, honey. I’m swamped over here, can’t get away… Just do your best… hire a good nanny…” I was so afraid of distracting him from work, I shouldered everything myself, no matter how exhausted or overwhelmed I was. I always just told him, “Everything’s fine.” It turned out his “business dinners” and being “swamped” were just code for being by Lisa’s side full-time while she was pregnant. I took a slow sip of my coffee, hiding the arctic chill in my eyes. When I looked up, my polite smile was perfectly in place. “What a coincidence. My daughter is about the same age.” She forced a weak smile and said nothing. As if suddenly remembering something, I pulled a brochure from my purse. “Last week, I found this school newsletter in my husband’s briefcase. That suggestion you wrote in the back? Such lovely handwriting.” I watched the last vestiges of color drain from her cheeks. Her voice was a dry rasp. “That… that wasn’t me.” A denial. Pathetic. Seeing her reaction, I suddenly lost interest. “Oh, I must be mistaken then. It was a pleasure to meet you. I do hope you manage to keep up appearances.” I turned and walked out of the event, pulling out my phone to call my best friend, a founding partner at a top-tier law firm. “Betty, I need a favor.” The sunlight was blinding as I opened my car door. The soft purr of the engine was like a sigh marking the start of a play. My voice was as calm as still water. “Drop the case you were working on for me. I need you to draw up divorce papers.” “Yes, Mark is cheating. And I’m about to give him a gift he’ll never forget.” 02 Betty was ruthlessly efficient. Less than half a day later, an encrypted file landed in my inbox. The attached note was brief: “Take a deep breath after you read this. Call me anytime.” I locked myself in the study to get reacquainted with the man I married. I opened the first video file. It was security footage from a beach resort. Three months ago, on Children’s Day, Mark had told me he was attending a “closed-door executive retreat.” In reality, he was on a beach vacation with Lisa and Leo. They were the picture of a happy family. An abandoned stuffed animal, stepped on in the sand, was the same one he brought home as a gift for our daughter. My face was a mask as I fast-forwarded and clicked on the next file. Bank statements. Massive sums of money moved between several accounts, the cumulative total so large it made my chest ache. The final destination was a private account ending in 8741. The account holder: Lisa Vance. He’d been quietly transferring assets under the guise of “consulting fees.” Did he really think I was so stupid I’d never find out? At the bottom of the file was a scanned copy of an insurance policy. The policyholder was Mark. The insured was the boy, Leo. The beneficiary was Lisa. The policy was taken out five years ago. The premium, paid in a lump sum, matched the exact amount we’d received from mortgaging one of our investment properties. He told me at the time he was investing in a project with “incredible potential.” A chill spread from my fingertips to my heart. In that moment, I finally understood. The sharpest blades are always wielded by those you trust the most. As I stared blankly at the screen, a knock came at the door, followed by Mark’s gentle voice. “Grace? Why is the door locked?” I quickly closed the windows, took a deep breath, and composed my face into an impeccable mask before opening the door. “Just having a private chat with Betty. I locked it out of habit.” He didn’t seem suspicious. “About Children’s Day in a couple of days, I might…” I laughed coldly to myself. “Another business trip, right? Sophie’s school doesn’t have an event this year. I was planning on taking her to my mom’s for a couple of days anyway.” A look of profound relief washed over his face. “Honey, you’re so understanding.” I looked at this face, so familiar yet so alien, and my stomach churned. Understanding? Oh, yes. Understanding enough to let you have your cake and eat it too. But you have no idea just how “understanding” I can be. As I watched my husband walk away, a line from one of Betty’s audio files echoed in my mind. “…I’ve cooked the books. When we leave the country and the debts come due, the creditors will go straight to Grace…” This wasn’t just an affair. This was a calculated plot to plunder and frame me. He was no longer the earnest young man I had built an empire with from scratch. He was a wolf, feeding his other family with my blood, sweat, and tears. A predator lying in wait beside me, patiently biding his time to devour me whole. I picked up my phone and called Betty. “Change of plans. Put the divorce on hold. I want you to compile every piece of criminal evidence you can find on him first. I want him to know what it feels like to fall from the heavens and lose everything.” There was a moment of silence on the other end, followed by the soft rustle of paper. “I was hoping you’d say that. What you have is just the tip of the iceberg. Besides the fraudulent loans, he’s embezzled company funds and there are major irregularities with the corporate foundation he set up. This gives us a lot to work with, but it will take some time… He’s going to be in a world of hurt.” “And don’t worry, we’ll find out who’s been helping him. We’re already working on the company’s accounting issues.” After hanging up, I opened the photo of his “perfect family” again. My finger touched the screen, the cold glass a barrier between our worlds. 03 On Children’s Day, I drove to the private academy once again. As soon as I parked, a message from Mark popped up: [Have you made it to Grandma’s yet?] Of course. He needed to confirm my whereabouts. I emotionlessly sent him a pre-recorded video. In it, Sophie was happily jumping around her grandmother’s yard, smiling sweetly at the camera. [Daddy, we’re here! Finish your work soon so you can come play with us!] His reply was almost instant: [Okay, sweetie. Have fun.] It was followed by a sickeningly fake heart emoji. I turned off my phone, a wave of nausea rolling through me. Once trust is broken, every subsequent gesture, no matter how well-intentioned, feels like a farce. As a shareholder, I had no trouble gaining access to the school’s celebration. It didn’t take long to find them in the crowd. Lisa was clearly dressed to impress today in a new season Chanel suit, a diamond necklace glittering at her throat. The design was nearly identical to one in my safe—a piece Mark had told me was a “one-of-a-kind custom design.” Even the heels she wore were the same brand I favored, just in a different color. She was on stage, giving a speech as a representative of the PTA, her posture elegant, her voice confident and clear. Below, Mark was patiently playing a game with the boy, Leo. He was crouched on the ground, his eyes filled with a focus and gentleness I had never seen him show our daughter, carefully helping the boy keep his balance. A few parents gathered around, offering sycophantic praise. “Mr. Foster really knows how to balance work and family.” “It’s true. Ms. Vance is so capable, and Mr. Foster is such a dedicated family man. Leo is a lucky boy.” “Mr. Foster is a major shareholder, you know. I heard he just made another large donation for the library renovation.” He smiled and nodded, accepting their flattery, the picture of success. Occasionally, he would glance up at Lisa on stage, their eyes meeting in a look of deep, shared affection. A perfect family, a successful career, the admiration of his peers. He was basking in it. My fingernails dug deep into my palms. Do you remember, Mark? The winter our heat went out, and we stayed up all night, wrapped in blankets, rewriting business proposals. The time you were hospitalized with a bleeding ulcer from schmoozing investors, and I ran between home and the hospital, learning how to prepare liquid meals. The time your reckless expansion broke the company’s capital chain, and I used the house my parents gave me as collateral to keep us afloat. When our first big check came in, you held me and said, “Grace, I will never let you down.” And now, you’re using the wealth we built together to pave the way for your other family, to put on a show for your illegitimate son, donating libraries to buy yourself a reputation. Just then, the principal smilingly invited Mark to the stage. On the large screen behind him, a stunning 3D rendering of the new library appeared. He took the microphone and began to eloquently describe the design philosophy and future plans for the library, soaking in the admiration from the audience. And in that precise moment, at the absolute peak of his self-satisfaction, his smile relaxed and genuine. The doors to the auditorium were suddenly thrown open. Several uniformed police officers walked in. The entire room fell silent, every parent and teacher frozen in place. The lead officer held up his badge and a warrant. “Mark Foster, you are under investigation for embezzlement, misappropriation of funds, and the illegal transfer of marital assets. You are now required to accompany us to the station for questioning.”

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