Category: English

1 To save me from an invader, my parents traded their lives to the System. After they died, our assets were frozen. My brother, now hating me, was diagnosed with leukemia. I worked as a movie corpse to pay for his treatment. After ten coffin scenes, I finally had enough for one chemo session. Then I saw my “dead” parents taking a family photo with Tiana, my lookalike. My mother suggested inviting me, but my healthy brother objected, “This was her punishment. We’ll tell her when she’s no longer a threat. Besides, she’s bad luck now.” Clutching the money, I cried laughing. My phone buzzed: “Get treatment or you’ll die, Willow!” … “I’m not getting treatment,” I whispered. I shut off my phone and sat on the curb, the world fading to black around me. The pain, sharp and splintering like broken bones, seized my body again. Fumbling, I pulled out the painkillers I always carried, swallowing more than a dozen pills until the agony receded to a dull throb. My phone chimed. I opened it to see that their family portrait was trending online. Though their faces were artfully blurred, I knew it was them. The parents and the brother who had once cherished me. The sense of familiarity was a phantom limb, an ache I couldn’t shake. The caption read: ‘Billionaire and family dote on their beloved princess for a stunning family portrait!’ I had endured the agony of bone cancer without a single tear, but those words… a wave of grief so profound washed over me, and I finally broke. My brother’s call came through. “Where’s the money you earned today? Get it to me now! I heard you were in a coffin ten times. I want every single cent!” “Okay,” I answered, my voice flat as I swallowed the bitterness. My coldness must have unsettled him. “Don’t try anything funny,” he warned. “Every dollar you earn for the rest of your life belongs to me.” After hanging up, I drifted to the bus stop in a daze. As I waited, a luxury car glided past. It was only there for a few seconds, but through the window, I saw it all. My mother, her face glowing with affection, fastened a necklace around Tiana’s neck. My father stood beside them, clapping and smiling. Tiana sat between them… a perfect little princess. Before she had taken over my life, I was the princess. I was the one they had adored. In fact, until today, I had believed it was still true. I thought my parents had sacrificed their lives for me, that my brother’s hatred was just a mask for his unbearable grief. But it was all a lie. The person they loved was Tiana. For her, they had constructed this elaborate, cruel theater to deceive me, to punish me, to ensure I would live forever drowning in guilt for their ‘deaths.’ The pain was coming more frequently now. I stumbled back to my dingy walk-up, collapsing to the floor in a tight, agonized ball. I fumbled with the pill bottle, but just as I was about to shake some out, the door flew open. My brother was there, and he slapped the bottle from my hand, sending pills scattering across the dirty floor. “What’s with the act? If you want to sleep, go to your room! Don’t lie here like a corpse. Or have you gotten too used to the role?” I wrapped my arms around myself, my body convulsing in silent, excruciating pain. He kicked me, his voice laced with rage. “Hey! If you’re going to play dead, don’t do it on my doorstep! Go back to your coffin! You’re such bad luck!” When I didn’t move, he gave me one last, vicious kick and slammed the door shut. A moment later, the neighbor, Mrs. Gable, came out to take out her trash. She saw me and gasped. “Oh my God! Honey, your nose is bleeding!” 2 I scrambled to scoop a handful of the scattered pills from the floor and shoved them into my mouth. The door creaked open again. My brother stood there, his eyes wide with shock at the sight of my bloodied face and the small pool of crimson on the floor. He spoke, his concern awkward and forced. “What the hell happened? Why’s your nose bleeding?” The pills began to work their magic, dulling the sharpest edges of the pain. I used the wall to haul myself to my feet and stumbled inside. “It’s nothing.” Mrs. Gable’s eyes were filled with worry. Before she left, she called into the apartment, “Young man, you should take your sister to a hospital! She doesn’t look well at all!” I slumped onto a stool, closing my eyes and waiting for the world to stop spinning. My brother crossed his arms, studying me with a detached curiosity. “Willow, have you been playing dead for too long? The more I look at you, the more you look like you’re actually dying.” He smirked. “You look more like a patient than I do.” “Now, where’s the money you earned today? Hand it over. I need to get my prescription.” I pulled the wad of cash from my pocket—my payment for ten descents into a wooden box—and placed it in his outstretched hand. He slapped it against his other palm and turned to leave, then paused at the door, his gaze cold. “Don’t go in tomorrow. This is enough for a while. You wouldn’t want to actually die playing the part.” A bitter smile twisted my lips. I couldn’t tell if it was a flicker of concern or just more of his biting sarcasm. I must have dozed off, slumped against the wall, because the ping of my phone jolted me awake. The extras’ group chat was blowing up. “OMG! Who is that CEO brother?! He rented a luxury yacht for his sister for a whole month!” “I know, right?! He’s the best! He was so happy today he was literally throwing money off the deck! I’d be a janitor on that yacht for a month just to pick up cash all day!” … I scrolled up and found the video that had sent them into a frenzy. I pressed play, and the blood in my veins turned to ice. My brother’s voice, unmistakable and cheerful, filled the air. “Take it! This money feels tainted anyway! It’s the corpse cash my dead-beat sister earned!” “If I wasn’t faking being sick, I wouldn’t even touch this stuff.” With a grand gesture, he flung my hard-earned money into the sea. Then he turned and placed a diamond tiara, worth millions, on Tiana’s head. My body shook violently. I clapped a hand over my mouth to stifle a sob. He had thrown away my blood and sweat. To pay for his ‘leukemia,’ I hadn’t spent a single dollar on myself. I stretched one meal from the set into three. My clothes were patched and washed so thin they were nearly transparent. The only money I had ever spent was for the hospital visit that had diagnosed my bone cancer. And even then, I hadn’t dared to start treatment. The money was for him. And now I knew. He thought my money was tainted. Tears streamed down my face, my shoulders shaking with silent, racking sobs. The emotional shock sent a fresh wave of agony through my bones. Overwhelmed, I pitched forward and the world went black. When I woke up, I was in a hospital. It was Mrs. Gable. She had been worried about me, and after wrestling with her thoughts, she had decided to check on me. She’d found me unconscious on the floor and rushed me here. Her voice was tight with concern. “Honey! How could you, at your age…” Just then, my brother burst through the door, pointing an accusatory finger at me. “Willow! What the hell are you doing, causing trouble? You get a little sick and I have to come running? I’m busy! You’re messing up my plans!” 3 I stared at him for a moment, a bitter smile touching my lips. A complete stranger could see that I was unwell, but my own brother, who saw me every day, was blind to it. The image of him laughing as he crowned Tiana flashed in my mind, and a single tear traced a path to my temple. His genuine, adoring smile would never be for me again. Mrs. Gable opened her mouth to tell him the truth, but I gripped her hand and shook my head. She reluctantly fell silent. As she left, she couldn’t stop herself from saying, “Young man, stop being so hard on your sister. Just be good to her.” Ethan ignored her completely, striding over to my bed. He glared at me, then sat down with a sigh, as if forced. “Willow, I have something to tell you. Try not to get too excited.” I kept my head turned away, my eyes closed. He didn’t care. He continued, “Mom and Dad aren’t dead. They’re coming back tomorrow.” His words hit me like a physical blow. I shot up in bed, my mouth opening and closing, unable to form a word. They were coming back? They hadn’t abandoned me. Of course. I was their precious daughter, the one they had cherished. How could they discard me for someone like Tiana? A genuine laugh escaped my lips, a terrifying sound coming from my pale, gaunt face. Ethan recoiled in disgust and left. Even with the searing pain knitting through my bones, my heart felt light. I ripped the IV from my hand and ran home. The reflection in the mirror startled me. My complexion was a ghostly, ashen white. My parents would be so worried if they saw me like this. I dug out a jar from under my bed, filled with years of saved-up coins. Pennies, dimes, nickels. I clutched a handful and ran to a dollar store, buying the cheapest, brightest red lipstick I could find. The next morning, I was up at dawn. I applied a thick layer of lipstick and dabbed some on my cheeks for color. I checked myself in the mirror again and again, satisfied that the ghastly pallor was hidden. Then, I sat by the door to wait. The hands on the clock spun, and waves of pain washed over me, each one a trial. Finally, as dusk settled, they arrived. My mother was dressed in a stunning gown, my father in a tailored suit. I looked down at my own tattered clothes and felt a pang of insecurity. As tears welled in my eyes, I stepped forward and whispered, “Mom…” She wrinkled her nose and took several steps back, her eyes filled with undisguised distaste. “Willow, it’s natural for a girl to want to look beautiful, but you don’t have to try so hard. It’s just laughable.” I forced down the lump in my throat, telling myself, It’s just because we’ve been apart. In a few days, it will be like it was before. My mother continued, “We came to take you home today.” “But, I have one condition.” I nodded eagerly. To spend my last days with them, I would agree to anything. She gestured toward the door. “Tiana, sweetheart, you can come in.” A moment later, Ethan walked in, leading Tiana by the hand. I was confused, until my mother spoke again. “It must be strange for you, seeing Tiana, who looks exactly like you.” “There can only be one face like this in the world.” “So…” She placed a small, sharp fruit knife on the table between us. “Ruin your face.” For a second, the world stopped. I stumbled back, my mind blank. What… What did she mean? My father’s cold voice pulled me from my stupor. 4 “Willow? Did you hear your mother’s condition?” “Just do as she says. Even with a ruined face, you’ll still be our precious daughter.” So, that was it. This was the reason they had come. Ethan picked up the knife and pressed it into my hand. “Don’t hesitate. You love Mom and Dad, don’t you? You want to live with them again, right?” He looked away, mumbling, “If you do this, I’ll… I’ll admit you’re still my sister.” Ha. He couldn’t even bring himself to say it clearly. I looked at them—the family who had once adored me, now cornering me like a pack of wolves for a stranger. A wild, unhinged laugh tore from my throat. The cheap lipstick smeared with my tears, running down my cheeks in grotesque, crimson rivers, mocking my foolish hope. I turned away, wiping my eyes. “You don’t have to do this. I’m going to die soon. Then, there will only be one Tiana.” Their expressions instantly soured. Ethan was the first to explode. “Willow! What’s this about dying? Is this your excuse to get out of it? You think playing a corpse makes you an expert on death?” Even my quiet father couldn’t hold back his anger. “If you don’t want to do it, just say so! Stop playing these manipulative games! You’re a young woman. What kind of person talks about dying all the time?” “Fine! Let there be two identical faces in the world. We’ll just disown you!” At his words, Tiana burst into tears, as if she were the one being wronged. “It’s all my fault! I shouldn’t have taken over her body. Daddy, Mommy, please don’t be angry!” “Let me be the one to do it! Let me ruin my face so there’s only one Willow!” She snatched the knife and raised it to her own cheek. But before the blade could touch her skin, Ethan lunged, grabbing the knife. Blood dripped from his hand. He threw the knife at my feet. “Tiana! You’re not the one in the wrong!” My mother rushed to Tiana’s side, fussing over her. “Oh, my darling girl, why would you do that? What if you had really hurt yourself?” I stood outside their circle of four, the villain in their story. Ethan glared at me, then suddenly lunged forward, snatching the fruit knife from the floor. He tackled me, and a searing line of fire ripped across my cheek. The fall sent a jolt of agony through my already ravaged body. The sharp, repeated agony of the knife on my face, combined with the deep, grinding pain in my bones, was more than I could bear. But I didn’t struggle. I didn’t reach for my pills. My mother stood by, directing him. “Ethan, a few more times. Make sure it’s completely unrecognizable. Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of Willow at home. After this, she won’t have to suffer another day.” He only stopped when my face was a bloody, unrecognizable mess. They all waited for me to get up, but I could only lie there, convulsing. They stared, their brows furrowed in confusion. Ethan finally nudged me with his foot. “Hey! Get up. You were always talking about Mom’s cooking. They brought ingredients to make you a meal at home.” Suddenly, there was a frantic banging on the door. After a few loud thumps, the door burst open, and Mrs. Gable rushed in. She saw me lying in a pool of my own blood, my body emaciated, and she let out a horrified shriek, her eyes wide with terror. “My God! What have you done?! The poor girl has bone cancer! She only has days to live! Couldn’t you just let her die in peace?!”

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Since kindergarten, Charles and I had never gone more than three days without seeing each other. But the moment our families started talking about our engagement, he vanished. For an entire year, he ghosted me. He blocked me on everything. His company security had a standing order: no solicitors, and absolutely no Arabella Fairchild. If I so much as appeared in his line of sight, he would turn on his heel and walk away. Eventually, even his friends couldn’t stand it anymore. One of them, Leo, arranged for me to see him. But when I arrived, Charles’s cold voice sliced through the crack in the private room door. “She’s just a little plaything who comes running whenever I snap my fingers.” “No ambition, no personality… Being engaged to her would be beneath me.” 1 My hand froze on the doorknob. I couldn’t bring myself to push it open. Leo, standing behind me, quickly covered my ears. “Bella, don’t listen to him. He’s drunk, he doesn’t know what he’s saying!” “I’ll go give him a piece of my mind!” He made a move to shove the door open, but I grabbed his sleeve and shook my head. All this time, all I’d wanted was an answer. Why was he so violently opposed to our engagement? He’d made it a public spectacle, the talk of our entire social circle. I had looked up to him as my protector, my big brother, for seventeen years. But he wasn’t my real brother. We both had to get married eventually. Why couldn’t it be me? Now, I finally had my answer. It wasn’t that I wasn’t good enough, or pretty enough. It was that he had only ever seen me as a pet. A little creature he’d raised from childhood. Something to amuse him? To pass the time? Or maybe just something pretty to have around. Leo dabbed at my tears with a handkerchief, muttering, “Damn it, Carter and the guys shouldn’t have… this was a terrible idea…” “It’s okay, Leo.” I took a deep, shaky breath. “Can you just take me home? I don’t want to see him anymore.” “Yeah, of course…” Just as we turned to leave, the door swung open from the inside. We froze, staring at Carter, who was standing there, equally surprised. He didn’t know what had just happened. He just grabbed my arm and pulled me inside. The whole point of this dinner was for them to convince Charles to make up with me. Carter sat me down in the chair directly across from Charles. “Come on, man,” Carter said. “Even if you’re fighting with your family, you can’t take it out on Bella.” “We’ve all known her since we were kids. Just talk to her. Don’t let your pride cause some stupid misunderstanding.” Charles hadn’t looked up once since I entered the room. But the veins on the back of the hand gripping his glass were stark and white. Leo followed me in, shaking his head and trying to signal to Carter to shut up. Before Leo could pull me away, Charles finally spoke. His voice was low and tight. “Arabella, why can’t you ever just listen?” “Didn’t I tell you we shouldn’t see each other until my grandfather and my parents change their minds?” “Why do you have to be so damn stubborn?” I stared at my lap, the words lodged in my throat. The air in the room was thick with tension. The last time I’d seen him this angry was when one of his college friends—a guy he actually liked—had asked me out. Leo sighed and came over, gently stroking my hair. He then herded the other guys out of the room, leaving Charles and me alone. 2 Charles threw back a mouthful of whiskey, his frustration palpable. “Bella, can’t you have some self-respect?” “I told you, I’m not interested in you. I have never, not once, looked at you as a woman.” “Instead of clinging to me all the time, why don’t you do something to improve yourself?” “All you ever do is orbit around men…” “Are you that pathetic?” “When I take over the company for real, I’ll be traveling constantly for meetings. I can’t just drag you along with me everywhere.” I felt like I’d been plunged into an icy sea. A cold numbness spread through me, stealing the strength from my limbs, the words from my mouth. So this is how he saw me. After all these years. “So just be a good girl and stay away from me. The old man will probably give up on this engagement idea soon enough.” “I understand,” I whispered. “And you’ll stop bothering Leo and the others to track me down?” “I’ll stop.” A slideshow of my life flashed through my mind. I used to cherish those memories like precious jewels. Now, I saw how ridiculous I’d been. I had ignored how his patience with me had worn thinner and thinner since high school. I had ignored the undisguised disdain in his eyes when he looked at my clothes, my style. I had ignored the first thing he said when he found out his friend had asked me out: “Someone actually likes her?” … I lifted my head and looked at him, my gaze clear and steady. “Charles. Thank you for saving me when I was a little girl.” “I’ll learn my lesson now. I promise, I will never bother you again.” With that, I stood up and walked out, and I didn’t look back. 3 I flipped on the lights in the villa. As always, it was empty. Silent. My parents were perpetually away, and my grandfather lived a quiet life of self-cultivation in the mountains. Charles’s mom once told me that from the day I was born, I was raised by a single nanny. When I was three, the nanny went out for groceries and forgot to close the front door. I wandered out of the house and fell in the middle of the road. Charles, who was playing in his yard next door, heard my crying and carried me back to his house. For the next fifteen years, I grew up trailing behind him. I followed him to the same elementary school, the same middle school, even the same university. When I was bullied for being quiet and withdrawn, Charles was the one who stood up for me. He taught me how to protect myself. When I thought about it, Charles had been in my life more than my own parents. I depended on him too much. So when he first started avoiding me, I panicked. I searched for him everywhere, feeling like my entire world had become a terrifying, empty void. A year isn’t a long time. But it was harder than the fifteen years that came before it. I sat at my computer, staring blankly at the acceptance email for the foreign exchange program. My therapist said a change of scenery would help. New hobbies to distract me. I had wanted to tell Charles… A bitter laugh escaped me. He was probably dying for me to get as far away as possible. When I left, I only sent a text to my parents. Not that they would notice, anyway. … Landing in Italy, I fumbled my way through the paperwork and renting an apartment. It wasn’t as hard as I’d imagined. While waiting for the semester to start, I traveled, exploring nearby cities. Just as my therapist had said, getting away really did change my perspective. And my habits. After being pickpocketed three times and harassed more times than I could count, I decided to learn Krav Maga. There was no one to protect me here. I had to learn to protect myself. 4 Two months into the semester in Italy, I got a sudden call from Leo. “Bella! You went to Italy? Why didn’t you tell us? We only found out because we ran into one of your classmates.” “Yeah, I just wanted a change of scenery, clear my head. I’ll be back in a few months, don’t worry.” “So how are you doing? Is your place safe?” “Everything’s great. It’s perfectly safe.” “Good, good. Hey, maybe you should give your brother… uh, Charles… a call? He knows some people over there.” “No, that’s okay. I’m fine on my own. No need to bother anyone.” “Alright then. Well, if you need anything, call me or… uh… him.” Back in the Sterling Corporation office, Leo waited until he heard the click on the other end before hanging up. “She’s got some nerve,” Charles muttered, flicking a lighter open and closed, his face a dark thundercloud. “Dude, you were the one who told her to get lost,” Leo said, sprawling lazily on the sofa and glancing at a copy of Arabella’s exchange application. “Telling her to get lost doesn’t mean she can’t send a text or make a phone call.” “Oh, for God’s sake, Charles, check your own block list. You were the one who said you had to make it look convincing and blocked her on everything. How was she supposed to tell you?” “If I were her, I wouldn’t bother with you either,” Leo grumbled, rolling his eyes. He was Charles’s childhood friend and had watched Arabella grow up too. He knew, more or less, about the situation with her family. Parents who were never there, a kid who barely spoke to anyone but clung to Charles like a lifeline. But Charles didn’t have romantic feelings for her. Now that she was far away, he was clearly worried sick, but too damn proud to admit it. What a mess. Let them sort out their own drama, he thought. After Leo left, Charles rubbed his temples. There was a knot of irritation in his chest that he couldn’t loosen. It was even worse than the time he’d discovered her art studio was filled with dozens of portraits of him. The two family patriarchs were still pressuring them to get engaged. Bella was just a junior in college. A kid who’d never even been on a date. What did she know about any of this? Charles scrolled through his phone. After a long hesitation, he unblocked the contact labeled “Little Sister.” Then he buzzed his secretary, Lina. “Mr. Sterling, you wanted to see me.” “Bella went to Italy by herself.” A flicker of a triumphant smile crossed Lina’s lips before she quickly suppressed it. “That just proves that my ‘tough love’ approach worked,” she said smoothly. “Miss Fairchild has been without guidance her whole life. No one ever corrected her when she was wrong.” “She’s a junior in college and her world still revolves around you. What kind of future can she have like that?” “With girls like her, who have no sense of self, you have to use harsh words. Otherwise, she’ll never learn to stand on her own two feet.” Lina smiled sweetly. “Besides, her going abroad doesn’t necessarily mean she’s making progress. She could just be copying a scene from a romance novel, playing hard to get.” “I’m a woman, too. I know all about these little games.” “To cure her of this… dependency, you have to maintain your distance.” Charles looked thoughtful. “But she’s never been anywhere far on her own…” “Mr. Sterling, she’s a college junior. She’s not a child. I was younger than her when I went off to college in a strange city. It’s not that hard. Girls don’t need to be coddled so much.” On second thought, she had a point. Maybe Bella had just seen so few men in her life that she’d mistaken her sibling-like affection for him for romantic love. It was probably for the best to let her fend for herself for a while. He told Lina to cancel the plane ticket to Italy he had just booked and turned his attention back to his work. 5 Bang. Bang. Bang. “Perfetto!” I nodded to the instructor, set down the M1 rifle, and rubbed my wrists. My marksmanship was getting better. I packed up my things in silence, trying to clear my head. I had my combat class this afternoon and needed to get home early tonight. Otherwise, I’d run into that obnoxious neighbor again. Just as I reached the door, a tall Asian man walked toward me. I kept my head down, moving to the side to let him pass. But he stopped directly in front of me. “Excuse me, are you Miss Arabella Fairchild?” he asked in fluent, unaccented English. “Yes, and you are…?” I looked up, curious. The man before me was dressed in a bespoke suit, easily six-foot-three, and radiated an aura of command. But the moment our eyes met, that intimidating pressure vanished. His eyes were a deep, startling blue. “My name is Dominic Moretti. I’m a friend of Charles’s.” “Oh… hello.” “Charles told me you were studying here alone. He was worried, so he asked me to look out for you.” “The apartment you’re in isn’t the safest. I’ve arranged another place for you. Would you like to move?” “You can call him and confirm, if you like.” Dominic gestured for me to follow him, and we sat down at the café next door. He took out his phone and dialed. After a brief exchange, he handed the phone to me with a gentlemanly grace. “Bella.” “Hi.” “Dominic is from the Moretti family. We have some business dealings. He’ll arrange a place for you to stay. You can ask him for help with anything you need.” I took a steadying breath. Hearing that familiar voice felt like stepping back in time, to before he started avoiding me. Maybe it was the time, or the distance, or maybe the year of withdrawal had finally worked. I wasn’t as heartbroken as I thought I’d be. “Okay, I understand. Thank you.” There was a slight pause on the other end. “But don’t be a leech and latch onto him. Learn to be independent. Show some progress, you understand?” “I understand.” After hanging up, I returned the phone to Dominic with both hands. Then, I obediently followed him to his car. Since they were business partners, Charles must have already offered Dominic something in return for this favor. For my own safety in a foreign country, I wasn’t going to be stubborn. 6 In the car, Dominic made a call and arranged for someone to pack up my things. Then, he took me out for a proper Italian dinner. An hour later, the driver pulled the car through the gates of a sprawling estate. “Miss Fairchild, after you.” “Thank you, Mr. Moretti.” As I stepped out of the car, I saw a butler and several maids waiting for us. Dominic gestured for me to follow him inside. “You don’t have to call me Mr. Moretti. You were seven years old the last time I saw you, at the Sterling’s house.” I looked up at him, puzzled. “You and Charles were playing hide-and-seek. You ran right into my leg and fell down and started crying.” Dominic remembered it vividly. He’d been very struck by her. He and his father were visiting the Sterlings. The moment they walked in the door, a little white puffball had collided with him. Most kids that age would have wailed. But little Arabella just sat there on the floor, rubbing her nose, fat tears rolling silently down her cheeks. Before he could even say anything, the little puffball wiped her own tears, whispered to herself, “Bella’s okay, be good,” and then scrambled up and ran off. Combined with the file his assistant had given him this morning… She probably cried because no one was there to comfort her. Charles was just a nine-year-old kid himself, and the Sterlings were too busy to pay much attention to the neighbor’s child. At the time, Dominic had thought to himself, If no one wants this kid, I should just take her back with me. He never imagined that over a decade later, that childhood whim would actually come true. 7 We made our way to the second floor. At the top of the stairs, a door to the right was open. Inside, a man and two maids were unpacking my luggage. The man saw us and came out to greet us. “Mr. Moretti, Miss Fairchild.” “Sir, I thought we were taking her to the south-side flat. Why the change to your estate?” Hearing this, I looked at Dominic as well. The tall man rubbed his nose. “Oh, my cousin is coming to stay there for a while. I had to put Miss Fairchild here for the time being.” “Ah, I see.” … The days that followed were peaceful. Dominic even cleared out a space for a small art studio for me in the third-floor library. When I didn’t have class, I would paint. Dominic was often in the library as well, working. Sometimes he would sit beside me and watch, joking that he was collecting the early works of a future master. When he found out I was learning marksmanship and combat, he volunteered to be my coach. He noticed that my wardrobe consisted entirely of simple, athletic wear, and had a high-end designer send over a collection of perfectly coordinated outfits. He had excellent taste. I never knew I could look so beautiful. I thought my life would continue on this tranquil path. Until one day, I noticed a shift in the atmosphere of the estate. The butler knocked on my door. “Miss Fairchild, we will be conducting a deep cleaning of the estate. We’ll need you to stay at a hotel for a few days, perhaps a week.” “The driver and a maid will accompany you, so your daily routine will not be disturbed.” I traced the edge of the doorframe with my finger. After a moment’s hesitation, I couldn’t help but ask, “Will… Dominic be staying at the hotel too?” This feeling… My heart sank. It was horribly familiar. Was Dominic tired of me, too? After only three months? “Sir is… going on a business trip. He will come and pick you up personally when he returns.” I clenched my fists, forcing down the sour feeling rising in my throat. “Okay.” “When do we leave?” “Whenever you are ready.” I told him I’d just change my clothes and then closed the door. A bitter laugh escaped me. It’s fine. It’s not the first time. Thinking back on the last three months with Dominic, I sometimes felt a strange kinship with him, like I had met one of my own kind. His small, compulsive habits, the way he understood my paintings… Whatever. Maybe he really was just busy. I slung a backpack over my shoulder and went downstairs. The maids were almost all gone. Only the butler and the driver were waiting for me by the door. A ridiculous thought popped into my head. What if Dominic went bankrupt? I couldn’t help but find a sliver of dark humor in the thought, and then promptly choked on my own saliva. I motioned to the butler and hurried to the kitchen for a glass of water. I still didn’t know the estate very well; it wasn’t a castle, but it was far from small. After drinking the water, I passed by a room with the door slightly ajar. I heard the faint sound of shattering glass from inside. Didn’t they say everyone was gone? Maybe it was one of Dominic’s pets? A cat or a dog? It couldn’t be a person… Curiosity killed the cat. I went back to the kitchen, grabbed a knife, and returned to the half-open door. I pushed it open. Behind the door was a staircase leading down. A basement? The lights along the stairs were on, and the walls were adorned with beautiful murals. Holding my phone in one hand and the knife in the other, I slowly descended. At the bottom was another, more ornate door. I thought about turning back. What if it was dangerous? But just as I was about to leave, I heard a familiar sound. It was just a muffled grunt, but I recognized it. It was Dominic’s voice. I turned back and pulled the door open. Slumped on the floor, amidst the shards of a broken wine bottle, was him. 8 Dominic was clutching a piece of glass in his right hand. His left hand was a bloody mess from where he’d been punching the wall. I hesitated, torn between running away and my stupid bleeding heart. I settled on a cowardly compromise: I stayed in the doorway and called his name. “Dominic? Are you okay?” His body went rigid, every muscle tensing. It was as if he was shocked to hear another person’s voice. He turned and looked at me. “Bella? How did you find this place…? Didn’t the butler take you away?” Dominic forced a smile, the same gentle smile he always wore, but it didn’t reach his eyes. I could see his left hand trembling. I debated for a few moments, regretting that I’d called out to him. “I’ll go now. I won’t disturb you. Just… make sure you take care of your hand.” I was about to close the door when I heard him whisper, a desperate plea: “Don’t go…” “What?” “I won’t hurt you. Don’t be afraid.” “I just… I had a nightmare. I can’t sleep. I’m scared.” “Bella, can you just… stay with me for a little while?”

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The day of my wedding, my brother ruined my dress. He stormed into the bridal suite and emptied a glass of red wine right down the front of it. “Chloe, are you sick?” he spat, his voice shaking with rage. “You know how Ava feels about Caleb. What is all this? This whole spectacle, just to rub it in her face?” My fiancé, Caleb, stood behind him, leaning against the doorframe, his face a mask of cold indifference. “I’ll give you two choices,” Caleb said, his voice low and steady. “One, you walk down that aisle in the stained dress and we get this over with.” He paused, letting the cruelty of it sink in. “Two, you go to Ava right now and apologize. You fix what you broke, you make her feel better. If you can manage that, I’ll tell everyone the wedding is postponed.” I didn’t choose either. I chose a third path. I walked out in that ruined gown, stood before our family and friends, and I called off the wedding. My brother, my fiancé, my sister… I was done. I wanted none of them. But later, long after I had left, I heard the stories. The heirs to Northwood’s two most powerful families had lost their minds. They were scouring the globe, trying to hire the world’s most brilliant designers, all for one impossible task: to repair a wedding dress stained with wine and memory. 1 When Ethan burst into the suite, I had just finished putting on the dress. It had been my mother’s final design, the one she poured the last of her strength into, a masterpiece I had treasured for a decade. I hadn’t even had a chance to see myself in the mirror before the man who shared my face kicked the door open. “Chloe, what is wrong with you?” he yelled. “I warned you! How many times did I tell you not to go through with this circus?” He stomped toward me, his face contorted. “Do you have any idea how much you’re hurting her? Ava’s been crying her eyes out all morning because of you. Is this what you wanted?” His words were a physical blow. The flicker of joy I’d felt seeing him, just for a second, died. Of course. It was always about Ava. The weight of the dress, the intricate beading and layers of silk, suddenly felt like a cage. It was my wedding day. A day for peace, for promises. Not for this. I took a shallow breath, forcing myself to stay calm. I wouldn’t trade insults with him, not today. “Ethan, can we please not fight?” I said, my voice quiet. “Not today. It’s my wedding day. I just want to be happy.” His face darkened. “Happy?” He took another step, invading my space. “Can you stop being so selfish for one second? It’s just a wedding. Is it more important than Ava’s feelings?” He was practically pleading, but there was an edge of accusation in his tone that made my skin crawl. “She is so fragile, Chloe. She’s heartbroken, but she still wanted to wish you and Caleb the best. All she asked—the only thing she asked—was for you to tone it down. A small family dinner would have been perfect. Why do you always have to be so stubborn?” His entitlement, his complete blindness to my own feelings, made my hands tremble. The carefully constructed calm shattered. “The person getting married is me,” I shot back, my voice rising. “What is so wrong with me wanting a real wedding? Who cares if Ava is sad? Why am I the one who always has to pay for her emotions?” “Don’t you talk about her like that!” he roared. “Ava is your sister! It’s your job to look out for her, to be the bigger person!” A hot, dizzying rage washed over me. “She is your sister, not mine! My mother only had one daughter!” “Shut up!” The cold liquid hit my face first, then cascaded down my hair, a river of dark red over the pure white silk of my dress. For a second, we both froze. The world went silent. Ethan looked down at the empty wine glass in his hand as if he’d never seen it before. The rational part of him seemed to flicker back to life, his hand starting to shake. “Chlo… Chloe, I didn’t—” He fumbled for a napkin on the vanity, scrambling to wipe my face, but I flinched away. I was numb. Like a ghost in my own body, I looked down at the ugly, dark stain blooming across the bodice of my mother’s last gift to me. Wine was still dripping from the ends of my hair. Ethan, probably realizing how pathetic this looked, tried again, pressing the napkin to my forehead. “Honestly, Ethan, why bother?” A new voice, laced with contempt, cut through the tension. Caleb was still in the doorway, a cigarette dangling from his lips, a cruel smirk on his face. I saw then that he wasn’t even wearing his tuxedo. He had on a casual jacket over a white t-shirt. On the chest was a faded, hand-painted sun—Ava’s birthday gift to him last year. 2 He tilted his head, a soft, mocking laugh escaping his lips as he took in my ruined appearance. “You really thought you could pull this off, didn’t you, Chloe?” he said, smoke curling from his nostrils. “You thought charming my parents meant you could control my life? Dream on. You can play all the games you want, but you’ll never be half the woman Ava is.” The pure hatred in his eyes was almost comical. Our families had been planning this since we were kids. Not once, not a single time, had he ever said he didn’t want it. Even after he started orbiting Ava, treating her with a tenderness he never showed me, he never once mentioned breaking the engagement. The wedding had been his parents’ idea. They were tired of waiting. When Ava heard the news, she’d thrown a fit, refusing to eat. Ethan and Caleb had been beside themselves with worry, both of them ignoring my calls to comfort her. The last time I’d managed to get Caleb on the phone, I’d asked him straight out: “Caleb, do you even want to marry me?” There was a long silence. Then, in the background, I heard Ava’s tearful voice, small and wounded. “Caleb? Who is that? Is it… is it Chloe?” He’d finally snapped. “God, this is so annoying. It’s been decided, okay? What’s the point in asking? Just stop calling me!” His father had assured me everything was fine. He would handle the arrangements, and he would talk to Caleb. Looking at him now, I realized what “talking to Caleb” meant. His father must have laid into him, and this was his petty revenge. A dry laugh escaped my lips. I took the napkin from Ethan’s limp hand and calmly wiped the wine from my face. “Chloe! Chloe, is Caleb here yet? The coordinator needs you both for the processional… Oh my God.” My maid of honor, Maya, skidded to a halt in the doorway. Her eyes widened in disbelief, darting from my stained dress to the two men standing there like vultures. She understood instantly. “You bastards! Are you hurting her again?” She lunged for Caleb, nails out, but I caught her arm just in time. Maya’s dad was a senior VP at Caleb’s family company. It wasn’t worth it. Nothing about this was worth it. Caleb, however, seemed to misread the gesture. He saw me standing between him and Maya, and for a fleeting moment, a flicker of confusion crossed his face. Then his expression hardened again, and his voice dropped. “I’ll give you two choices,” he repeated. “One, you wear the damn dress and we get this over with.” “Two, you go apologize to Ava. You fix this. If you do, I’ll postpone. I’ll even find someone to make you a new dress. Your call.” He said it was a choice, but his face was a taunt. He was daring me to fight, to scream, to make a scene. Tears of rage streamed down Maya’s face. She looked like she wanted to kill him. But me? I felt nothing. The anger had burned out, leaving behind an unnerving calm. I looked him straight in the eye. “No, thank you, Mr. Thorne. My mother—the world-renowned designer Elena Vance—made this dress for me before she died. I don’t think you can find anyone better than her.” Thud. Behind me, Ethan stumbled back into the vanity. I glanced over my shoulder and met his wide, shocked eyes. His lips trembled, but no words came out. He had forgotten. I turned back to Caleb. “So, your two choices? I don’t want either of them.” 3 I walked down the aisle alone, carrying my own bouquet. At the altar, only Caleb’s parents were waiting. My own parents were gone, lost years ago. Other than the brother who had just assaulted me, I had no blood relatives left in the world. Ignoring the gasps and confused whispers from the crowd, I calmly took the microphone from the officiant. “I’m so sorry you all have to see me like this,” I began, my voice clear and steady. “Please, forgive my appearance.” Caleb, finally realizing what was happening, rushed onto the stage and grabbed my arm. “Chloe, what are you doing?” “Exactly what you wanted,” I said, pulling my arm free. “As you can all see, my fiancé, Mr. Thorne, hasn’t even bothered to change.” I let my eyes sweep across the stunned faces in the audience. “He believes I schemed my way into this wedding. Well, as of right now, consider my scheming over. I am officially announcing that my engagement to Caleb Thorne is broken. From this moment on, we go our separate ways.” I dropped the microphone. The clatter echoed through the silent venue. I turned and walked off the stage, leaving Caleb standing there, a statue in a storm of chaos. At the back of the hall stood Ethan, his face pale, his eyes wide with a frantic, desperate energy. He reached out to stop me, but his hand froze in midair as his gaze fell on the deep, crimson stain on my dress. I didn’t pause for him. I didn’t pause for anyone. I tossed my bouquet aside and walked right past him, out the door where Maya was waiting, her car already running. “Chloe! Get in!” The moment the door slammed shut, I felt the tremors start in my hands. In the rearview mirror, I saw a face streaked with tears, my makeup a faint smudge beneath my eyes. Maya pressed a tissue into my hand, muttering a stream of curses against Caleb. “He used to be such a sweet kid. What happened to him?” she fumed. “He used to adore you! God, men are trash. They change their minds faster than they change their clothes.” Her voice softened as she saw me press the tissue to my face, my shoulders shaking silently. “Chloe…” “I’m okay, Maya. Really,” I whispered. “I just… I miss my mom.” The car fell silent. I leaned my head against the cool glass of the window, watching the familiar scenery blur past. Everything had changed, and I was the only one foolish enough to stand still, waiting for a past that was never coming back. It wasn’t always like this. Ethan and Caleb… they were good to me, once. They really were. My mother was a world-famous wedding gown designer. She always said she would create a one-of-a-kind dress for me, that she would watch me with her own eyes as I wore her love and blessings to marry the man I loved. The year our families decided Caleb and I would one day marry, he had come to me, his cheeks flushed red, and taken my hand. Ethan had immediately shoved him away. “Hey! The deal was for when you’re grown-ups, not now!” The adults had laughed. I had buried my face in my mother’s dress, shy and giddy, as she stroked my hair. Back then, my mother hadn’t been diagnosed with stomach cancer yet. Back then, there was no sister named Ava in our house. Everyone I loved was right there, with me. 4 My mother passed away when I was twelve. She’d spent her final months working on my dress, constantly guessing at how I would grow, re-stitching seams, and finally, in a concession to the future she wouldn’t see, adding adjustable closures to the waist and bust. It was the last gift she ever gave me. And I almost lost it. The same year my mother died, my father brought a little girl home. Her name was Ava. He said she was the daughter of an old army buddy who had died, a man who had made my father promise to care for her. “Ethan, Chloe,” he’d announced, “this is your new little sister. I expect you to make her feel welcome.” I tried. But it seemed Ava had other plans. I had never met a child like her. One second, she would be hissing at me, trying to snatch a doll from my hands, and the next, she would be running to Ethan and Caleb with tears streaming down her face. Is it human nature to automatically side with the one who seems weakest? I don’t know. All I know is that the two boys who had always been on my side slowly began to drift away. “Chloe, you can’t be like that! Ava’s lost her parents. Have some compassion!” “She’s right, Chloe. You need to share. You have a brother, and you have me. Ava has nobody.” I lost track of how many fights we had. They always ended the same way: with them telling me I wasn’t as kind, as gentle, as sweet as Ava. Eventually, I just stopped fighting. But my silence only made Ava bolder. She started going after the one thing that was sacred. She tried to take my mother’s dress. The day I found her dragging it down the stairs, its white silk hem collecting dust, something inside me snapped. For the first time, I hit her. When she came into my room later, a bright red handprint on her cheek and Ethan in tow, I was on my knees, gently cleaning the smudged hem with a damp cloth. “Sniffle… Ethan, please don’t be mad at Chloe,” Ava cried, hiding behind him. “It was my fault. I made her angry. I deserved it.” I’ll never forget the look in Ethan’s eyes. Disappointment. Confusion. And something else… disgust. “I never thought you could be so cruel, Chloe,” he said, his voice cold. “She’s never seen anything so beautiful before. She just wanted to look at it. How could you hurt her like that?” My hands were shaking with rage. I tried to explain, to defend myself, but our shouting brought my father into the room. He saw Ava’s tear-streaked face and immediately went to her side. “Ava, don’t cry,” he soothed. “Daddy will have someone make you an even more beautiful princess dress, okay?” After he had calmed her down, he turned and finally noticed me standing there. A flash of awkwardness crossed his face. “Ahem, well, both of you. Chloe will get one too, of course.” As I watched him and Ethan dabbing at Ava’s tears, a cold realization settled over me. I was the outsider in my own home. I didn’t ask for a new dress. I took my mother’s gown, locked it away in my closet, and understood, with a certainty that chilled me to the bone, that there was no one left in this world who truly loved me. “Chloe, we’re here. I’m coming in with you. I’m not letting that little snake get another shot at you.” 5 Maya’s eyes were as red as mine. I shook my head. “No.” Over the years, she had gotten into so much trouble defending me, falling for every one of Ava’s petty traps. Maya was all heart and no guile; Ava could set a snare at her feet and she’d walk right into it, every time. And Caleb, using his family’s influence, always sided with Ava, leaving Maya furious and in tears. I was leaving. I couldn’t let her burn any more bridges for my sake. “It’s okay, Maya. I just need to grab my passport and a few documents. I’ll be right back out.” I took a deep breath, gathered the heavy skirt of my dress, and walked into the house I grew up in. The first thing I saw was Ava. The same Ava who was supposedly “crying her eyes out” was lounging on the sofa, twirling a lock of hair around her finger, a smug smile on her face. “Well, look who it is. Back already?” she chirped. “I thought Caleb just left. That must have been the world’s fastest wedding.” She covered her mouth in mock surprise. “Oh, dear. What happened to your dress? Caleb can be so mean. Even if he doesn’t like you, he shouldn’t have poured wine all over you. Especially since that was your mother’s final creation.” Her performance was flawless, but as I stood there, silent and unmoved, the smile faded from her eyes. I felt no anger. Just a deep, hollow sadness. Even she remembered whose dress this was. But my own brother… he had forgotten. Before she could speak again, I cut her off. “It wasn’t Caleb.” She froze. I held her gaze. “It wasn’t him. It was Ethan.” The color drained from her face. Her mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out. “You don’t have to fight anymore,” I said, my voice flat. “Ethan, Caleb… they’re all yours. I don’t want any of it.” I turned to go to my room, but she lunged, her fingers digging into my wrist. Something I said had hit a nerve. Her entire demeanor shifted, becoming manic and agitated. “‘Let me have them’?” she shrieked. “What do you mean, ‘let me’? You didn’t let me have anything! You lost! You couldn’t hold on to them!” Her face twisted into the familiar, venomous mask she only ever wore when we were alone. “I won! It was always me! I won!” she chanted, her eyes wild. “You’re insane, Ava.” I tried to pull away, her grip tightening painfully. “Let go of me.” “You lost, Chloe! You lost to me! Hahahaha!” She was completely unhinged. I finally shoved her away, not even that hard, just enough to break her grip. But she let out a piercing scream and threw herself backward, crashing into the tall curio cabinet against the wall. CRACK. The entire thing toppled over with a deafening crash. All the little treasures I had collected over the years—glass figures, painted boxes, delicate ornaments—shattered into a thousand pieces. I stared, stunned, at the glittering wreckage. My eyes fixed on a broken glass jar on the floor. I was so lost in the haze of it all that I didn’t see the figure rushing in from behind until a violent shove sent me stumbling forward. “Get away from her!” Caleb roared. He had come back. “I was actually coming back to apologize to you, and I find this? You can’t be left alone for five minutes without hurting her!” He had pushed me right into the pile of broken glass. A sharp, searing pain shot up from my ankle. 6 “Ah—” I gasped, the pain cutting through my shock. I tried to push myself up, but Caleb grabbed my shoulders, his grip like iron. “Why are you so cruel?” he raged, his face inches from mine. “You’ve been bullying her since the day she arrived! Always competing with her!” “For toys, for clothes, for a brother’s attention… you even had to take the person she loved!” “You already won, Chloe! You got everything you wanted! I agreed to marry you! Why can’t you just give her a break? Why can’t you cede an inch?!” Ava was on the floor in the only clear spot, a small patch of carpet, sobbing dramatically. Caleb shook me, his forehead vein throbbing, his voice cracking with a mixture of hatred and desperation. But I wasn’t looking at him. My gaze was fixed on the broken glass jar. It had split in half, revealing the contents scattered on the floor: dozens of small, folded pink stars. Paper stars. My breath hitched. Ignoring Caleb’s tirade, ignoring the throbbing pain in my ankle, I whispered, “It wasn’t me.” The pain was becoming overwhelming, a sharp counterpoint to the dull ache that had been building in my head all day. I could feel tears welling in my eyes, and I saw my own blurry reflection in Caleb’s amber irises. But I didn’t care. My hands, shaking, found the sleeves of his jacket and clenched them tight. Just like I had done ten years ago, I was trying to make him believe me. “Caleb, it wasn’t me. I didn’t hurt her,” I pleaded, my voice breaking. “She grabbed me first. I didn’t even push her that hard. I didn’t.” For a second, I thought I saw his expression soften. His frantic breathing seemed to even out. He even started to raise a hand, as if to wipe away my tears. But then Ava spoke from the floor, her voice choked with sobs. “Caleb, please don’t yell at Chloe. She’s right… she didn’t push me hard. It was my fault. I’m just so clumsy, I lost my balance and fell.” She sniffled loudly. “But… I think I twisted my ankle. It really hurts. Can you take me to the hospital?” Caleb hesitated. His eyes flickered between me and Ava, a silent war playing out on his face. In the end, he pulled his arm away from my grasp. “I’m taking Ava to the emergency room. We’ll talk when I get back.” He knelt down, scooping Ava into his arms. As he stood, he glanced back at me, his voice heavy with a weary sigh. “Your brother and my parents are handling the guests. They told everyone we had a fight and you said things you didn’t mean. Our wedding is… postponed.” He looked at me, a hint of pleading in his eyes. “I already agreed. We’ll have the wedding. Just stop fighting, okay? Wait here for me.” He kicked a shard of glass out of his path and walked past me, his shoe crushing one of the pink paper stars on the floor. In his arms, Ava shot me a look of pure, triumphant hatred. I felt nothing. The pain, the world, it all faded away. I sank to the floor, my movements slow and robotic, and picked up the star with the dirty footprint on it. I unfolded the tiny paper. Chloe don’t be scared. Your dad and Ethan like Ava more now, but I like you. I like you the most. Only you!! He had given it to me in class, two years after Ava had arrived. The other kids had teased us, guessing it was a love note. I’d opened it, read it, and burst into tears. Even now, after all this time, that childish promise felt more real, more precious, than any love poem. At fifteen, Caleb Vance had seen my fear and loneliness. With the fierce, clumsy sincerity of a teenage boy, he had tried to heal the wounds left by my mother’s death and my family’s betrayal. But years passed. And this is what we became. This.

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The day our company went public was the day the cops led me away in handcuffs for embezzlement. My wife’s old flame became the new CEO, and I was sentenced to three years in prison. My little sister, my only family, died of a broken heart trying to clear my name. After I got out, I heard a conversation on my car’s dashcam that shattered my world. It was my wife, Sophie, talking to her assistant. “It was you who embezzled the funds. You who framed Aiden and sent him to prison. Do you ever regret it?” “Not for a second,” Sophie’s voice was ice. “If Rick and I were never meant to be husband and wife, then the least I could do was give him the best of everything. A life free of worry. Think of it as my twenty-fifth birthday present to him.” “But the company was Aiden’s to begin with! He has nothing now.” “And you wanted me to just stand by and watch others tear Rick down?” 1 There was a pause. “As for Aiden,” she continued, “he grew up tough. What’s it to him to have a little less? Besides, I married him. I have the rest of my life to make it up to him.” “Then why not clear his name now? Let people know the truth.” “The last time he went out to buy me tampons, people pointed and called him a monster who abandoned his wife and drove his sister to her grave. He was shaking so hard he pissed himself in public.” “He was brutalized in prison. His right hand is permanently damaged, and he has severe depression. If you told the truth, it might give him some peace.” Sophie’s sudden shout made even me, just listening to the recording, jump. “Never! Everyone in Northwood City knows Aiden is a prodigy on Wall Street. If he walked out of there clean, where would that leave Rick? Absolutely not. My Rick has to be number one. No one will ever drag him down.” “So you’d rather let your own husband live in darkness? Let him hurt himself day after day with no one to comfort him? Have you forgotten his sister, her face pale as she knelt and begged you?” “Aren’t you afraid that if Aiden finds out the truth, he’ll destroy everything you’ve built?” A soft, chilling laugh. “He won’t. Aiden only has eyes for me. We’re very happy now.” The blood drained from my face. I couldn’t breathe. I saved the recording. I thought Sophie was the light of my life. I never imagined she was the source of all my suffering. She was the one who pushed me into the world of high finance, the one who gave me the resources to succeed. I thought she was my muse. But she only built me up so high to make the fall that much more devastating. If I hadn’t needed to replace the dashcam’s memory card, I might have spent the rest of my life living under the same roof as my nemesis. I stared at my numb right hand, a sickening suspicion coiling in my gut. I was so lost in the horror of it all that I didn’t even notice Sophie wrapping her arms around me from behind. “What’s wrong, Aiden?” Her voice was sweet, concerned. “Why are you crying again?” “Sophie,” I rasped, my voice cracking. “Why can’t I feel my hand?” My right hand was a mess of fresh, bloody cuts, but there was no sensation. She moved with practiced ease, retrieving the first-aid kit from behind the door. She gently disinfected the wounds, applied ointment, and bandaged them with care. “Oh, Aiden. Why do you keep hurting yourself?” “Every time I open my phone, I see them… calling me a monster who abandoned his family. I didn’t, Sophie. I swear I didn’t. Please… please, tell them the truth, won’t you?” Her hands paused for a fraction of a second. I saw it then—a flicker of disgust in her eyes before it was gone. “Then just turn off your phone. Don’t look,” she said, her tone hardening slightly. “I’ve told you so many times, I don’t care that you have a record. I don’t care that you’re hurt.” She softened her voice again, a masterclass in manipulation. “I’ve taken ninety-nine steps toward you, Aiden. Can’t you just take one toward me? When you hurt, I hurt.” She let out a choked sob, a performance worthy of an Oscar. “It’s Crystal’s memorial in a few days. I’ll take you to see her.” Even knowing the recording was real, hearing her say my sister’s name was like a knife twisting in my heart. I turned my head away, unable to look at her. “You should rest. I’ll go get your medication.” 2 After Sophie handed over the company, we moved into her family’s old estate, where I endured the daily scorn of her parents. They never missed an opportunity to berate me, lamenting how their brilliant daughter was now wasting her life washing and cooking for a “cripple.” Today was no different. Sophie’s father barged into the room, his eyes immediately fixing on my bandaged hand. “You useless cripple. How is it that something like this didn’t just finish you off?” I met his venomous gaze and spoke calmly. “I want to divorce Sophie. I don’t want to be a burden on her life anymore.” I added, “And I need the papers finalized as soon as possible.” The triumphant smirk on his face vanished, replaced by a scowl. “You dare make demands? If Sophie hadn’t begged us not to divorce you, do you think you’d still be living in this house? Back then, if she hadn’t threatened to kill herself just to marry you, someone like you wouldn’t even be fit to clean the toilets here.” He jabbed a fat finger at me. “A wreck like you should have been out of my daughter’s life long ago. You’ll get your divorce in thirty days. The moment you have it, you get the hell out of my house.” He stood there, his big belly practically hanging over my bed, ranting. I could only clench my fists under the covers. Bang. The door slammed shut. While I was in prison, her family had sent divorce papers several times. I never received them. I later heard it was because Sophie had threatened suicide, and I’d believed it was some grand, romantic gesture. How naive. The truth was, she was terrified that if we divorced, I’d get back on my feet and threaten Rick’s position. As I drifted into a medicated sleep, the familiar scent of herbs filled my senses. I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder, a soft voice urging me to wake up and take my medicine. It felt like my mother’s touch. But I couldn’t wake up. The next morning, I had just made it downstairs when I saw Rick sitting across from Sophie. She looked incredibly tense. I ignored them and headed for the kitchen to get some breakfast. “Aiden,” Rick suddenly stood up, his voice trembling as he reported to me like a subordinate. “I was just asking Sophie about some company matters.” He subtly moved to stand behind her, his eyes welling with nervous tears. He’d been terrified of me ever since he took over the company. “If… if you don’t want to see me, I can go.” I didn’t answer him, just poured myself a glass of water. Sophie, however, became animated. “It’s fine, Rick, Aiden doesn’t mind. Why don’t you stay with us for a few days? We can go over the other details properly.” Rick glanced at me nervously. “Would Aiden be okay with that?” The hand holding the glass trembled. A sharp pain lanced through my heart. “It doesn’t matter,” I said, my voice flat. “This is her family’s house. It’s not my place to say.” That’s right. This was their home. I was the outsider. Besides, I would be leaving soon anyway. Sophie flashed a satisfied smile. I didn’t look at her again and walked straight out the door. She blocked my path. “Where are you going?” “To see Crystal.” “Is that Aiden’s sister?” Rick’s voice piped up from behind her. “Sophie, I’d like to go too. We were classmates, after all.” He gave a small tug on Sophie’s sleeve. Without so much as a glance in my direction, she made the decision for me. I was shoved into the car, and I stopped fighting. I ignored the two of them. All I wanted was to see my sister. 3 I held the bouquet in my left hand, gently placing the flowers on Crystal’s gravestone. Suddenly, my face felt wet. Tears were streaming down my cheeks without me even realizing it. Crystal’s photo smiled back at me, her eyes seeming to look right through the picture and into my soul. “Crystal,” I whispered, my voice thick. “You have to believe me. Your brother has lived his life with a clear conscience.” Growing up, it was always just the two of us against the world. She was the only family I had left. And I wasn’t even there to see her one last time. “Let me tell you the truth, Aiden,” Rick’s voice, slick with venom, cut through my grief from behind. “You know, we were originally going to feed your sister’s body to the dogs.” My blood ran cold. “Do you know why? Because Sophie was afraid the police would trace it back to me. Before she died, your sister kept screaming ‘no’ under me. I’d already given her a double dose of the stuff… Still, there’s nothing quite like the first time, is there?” His words, each one a hammer blow, struck my mind. My scalp tingled, and a raw, agonizing pain tore through my chest. If it weren’t for you, if Sophie hadn’t found me, none of this would have happened to us. It was him. He killed Crystal. My reason evaporated. I spun around and threw a punch. But Sophie appeared out of nowhere, blocking my fist. She returned my punch with a vicious slap that echoed through the silent cemetery. “Aiden, how dare you hit him?” Her voice dripped with disappointment. “I don’t care that you’ve been to prison. I don’t care that you’re a cripple. But how can you resort to violence?” “In front of your sister’s grave? Do you want her to never rest in peace?” She kicked the flowers I had placed, stomping on them again and again. “Since prison clearly didn’t teach you anything, since you can’t get rid of these thuggish habits, maybe a little time in the basement will help you learn.” Suddenly, several large men in black suits appeared behind me. They blindfolded me and dragged me to the family estate’s basement, where they began to beat me mercilessly. The clubs they used were studded with thorns, each blow tearing into my flesh. My numb right hand was mangled again, a bloody mess. Blood poured from my left, staining the concrete floor a deep crimson. Through the haze of pain, I heard them talking. “Doesn’t the Missus love this cripple the most?” “Are you kidding? She only loves Mr. Rick! The way she looks at him… she wouldn’t let anyone else even touch him.” Love. I had stopped hoping for love long ago. So why did my heart still ache, as if it were being carved out with a dull knife? Rick came down to the basement. The timid, teary-eyed act was gone. He walked straight up to me. He stomped his foot down hard on my bleeding left hand. The barely-clotted wounds burst open, and I cried out in pain. “Aiden, you should know by now that Sophie has only ever loved me. So why aren’t you dead yet? After all this, how are you still alive?” He leaned in close, his voice a hateful whisper. “If it weren’t for you, Sophie and I would never have been apart for so long.” “I was this close to being crowned the Prince of Wall Street, to inheriting billions and marrying Sophie. And then you showed up. You ruined everything! Now I’m stuck with this shell of a company, and I can never set foot in my own family’s house again.” His face contorted with rage. “Tell me, why won’t you just die?” The blood from my left hand was turning black at the edges. My vision blurred. So that was it. Sophie only got close to me to tear me down, to clear the path for her one true love. I already knew, so why did the pain still feel so sharp, so real? “Rick! Rick…” Sophie’s voice echoed from the top of the stairs. Rick’s expression shifted instantly, a dark, cunning look I’d never seen before. He grabbed a knife from one of the goons, plunged it into his own thigh, and then draped my bloody right hand over the handle. “Sophie! Sophie… I’m down here!” he cried out, his voice filled with fake terror. Sophie practically flew down the stairs. She shoved my hand away and cradled him. “You really are hopeless,” she snarled at me, her eyes filled with pure hatred. “After all I’ve done for you. You’re nothing but a worthless animal.” A doctor rushed in and did a quick examination. “Ms. Sophie, he’s lost a lot of blood. He might need a transfusion, but getting a match from the blood bank will take at least an hour…” The doctor hadn’t even finished his sentence. Sophie’s eyes, cold and murderous, locked onto mine. There was no hesitation. “Use Aiden’s blood.” 4 They tied me to a makeshift operating table. A thick needle pierced the vein in my left arm. The pain from my battered body was nothing compared to the agony in my heart. I don’t know how long I served as a human blood bag before I passed out. When I woke up, Sophie was feeding me medicine. My left arm was bandaged, but I couldn’t lift it. It felt just as dead as my right. “You’re awake? Here, drink this.” I turned my head away. Sensing my anger, she softened her tone. “Alright, making you give blood was my fault. I apologize. But you have to take your medicine, even if you’re angry. Your body can’t handle any more stress.” I remained still. With an exasperated sigh, she stood up, pinched my cheeks to force my mouth open, and poured the bitter liquid down my throat. As the herbal concoction hit my stomach, my consciousness began to fade again. “He drank it all.” That was her voice. “Good. Then we can begin.” Rick’s. “Your leg…” “It’s just a scratch. You know how strong I am. You’d better give me a baby this year.” Sophie’s playful protest faded away, replaced by the unmistakable sounds of their lovemaking. The sounds drifted into my ears, a final, cruel torture. I wanted to wake up, to scream, to demand the divorce they owed me. But my eyes wouldn’t open. I was startled awake by the shrill ringing of my phone. Unable to lift it with either hand, I managed to hit the speaker button with my knuckle. “I’ve got the divorce certificate. Now get the hell out of our lives.” It was Sophie’s father. It was the best news I’d heard in years. The pain in my body seemed to lessen at his words. “I’ll be gone immediately. I won’t trouble you again.” Finally. I was leaving. And I would take back everything I had lost. “Trouble who? Leaving where?” Sophie walked in, holding a glass of water. “Nothing. Just listening to an audiobook,” I lied. The suspicion in her eyes faded, replaced by something else. “Aiden, Rick wants to thank you for the blood. He’s invited you to a big dinner tomorrow to show his gratitude.” I looked at my lifeless left hand and managed a twisted smile. “Sure.” Sophie looked like she was about to jump for joy. “Great! I’ll go help him with the arrangements.” I dragged my broken body to find her father and collected the divorce certificate. Then, I immediately booked the next flight to Australia. I didn’t see Sophie for the rest of the afternoon, and the relief was intoxicating. I asked the butler to deliver the divorce certificate to the restaurant where they were having their “thank you” dinner. Then I took a cab and left the city behind. I had no luggage. There was nothing from that life I wanted to take with me. Nothing except my sister, and I didn’t have the power to do that yet. “Crystal,” I vowed, watching Northwood City shrink below me. “Don’t worry. Your brother will get justice for you, even if it’s the last thing I do.” A sense of euphoria washed over me as the city disappeared. It was over. I was heading toward a new life, one that belonged only to me.

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His ex-wife and daughter were back from Europe. And just like that, our marriage was no longer a private affair. It wasn’t until I saw the photos that I truly understood. The pictures splashed across Page Six: Michael Ashford—a man so disciplined he scheduled his own spontaneity—stuffed into a fuzzy, bright blue cartoon character costume, smiling for a selfie with his ex and their child at the Central Park Zoo’s family day. That’s when the realization hit me, cold and sharp. I had never seen that version of him. The version of Michael Ashford in love. But I am Audrey Rhodes, the sole heir to the Rhodes Corporation. And I have never learned how to share. 1 The second the tabloid photos hit my phone, I was dialing my PR team to kill the story. But someone was faster. Within three minutes, the images were scrubbed from the internet. A complete digital blackout. I let out a dry, humorless laugh. That was Michael, all right. As the CEO of Ashford Holdings, the last thing he would tolerate was a scandal that could tarnish our merger—the very union our marriage represented. Fifteen minutes later, the low hum of a town car announced his arrival. A wave of bright, cheerful laughter drifted from the driveway. I stood by the floor-to-ceiling window in the foyer, a silent observer. I watched Michael—a man known for his calculated composure and ruthless boardroom tactics—gently holding a little girl’s hand. His face was softened in a way I’d rarely witnessed. I knew about the ex-wife, Clara. I knew about their daughter. He had never tried to hide them. “Michael, are you sure this is a good idea?” Clara’s voice was laced with a practiced hesitancy as she held the little girl’s other hand. “As Michael Ashford’s legal wife, I understand that I have a role in raising his daughter,” I said, my voice cutting through the evening air. I stepped into the doorway, my expression a mask of cool indifference. “That does not, however, grant you an invitation to forget your place.” Clara’s face flushed with embarrassment. She lowered her gaze. “I’m sorry. It’s just… today was the Children’s Festival, and Lily really wanted to…” The little girl, Lily, suddenly let go of her father’s hand and charged at me, kicking my shin with a surprising amount of force. Her voice was thick with tears. “You’re the mean lady who stole my daddy!” A sharp pain shot up my leg. I winced, but I couldn’t bring myself to scold a three-year-old. “Lily,” Michael’s voice was firm but held no trace of impatience. “That’s not polite.” I stood there, a perfect stranger on the other side of their perfect family portrait. The absurdity of my situation was almost comical. “Michael, you and I both know this marriage is more than just you and me,” I said, pulling my composure back around me like a shield. “It’s Ashford and Rhodes.” Clara saw her opening. “Mrs. Ashford, we were just—” “I am speaking to my husband,” I said, my gaze flicking to her with a clear warning. “When did I ask for your opinion?” Michael sighed, scooping his startled daughter into his arms. “Audrey, it was just a family day at the zoo. I’ve already handled the press. There will be no fallout.” His voice, a low, magnetic baritone, was as cool as ever. My heart clenched. A bitter, mocking taste filled my mouth. No fallout. So that’s what I was. My feelings, my humiliation… they were just variables in his risk assessment. The ones that required the least consideration. I saw the flicker of triumph in Clara’s eyes. I narrowed mine. “Audrey, Lily will be staying the night. Have the housekeeper prepare one of the guest rooms.” “And her?” I asked, my voice flat, my gaze fixed on the woman at his side. Michael paused for a beat. “She can stay in the adjacent room. Just for tonight.” I nodded. My upbringing had instilled in me a deep aversion to making a scene. That evening, the sound of laughter and games echoed from the guest wing below. Meanwhile, I, the lady of the house, lay wide awake in the cavernous master suite, the bed feeling colder and emptier than ever. Around midnight, a restless energy in my chest forced me downstairs for a glass of ice water. “Mrs. Ashford.” Clara’s voice emerged from the shadows of the living room, dripping with newfound confidence. “Lily is Michael’s flesh and blood. As long as she exists, he and I can never be truly disconnected.” I calmly set my glass down on the marble countertop and turned to face her, my height giving me a slight but satisfying advantage. “And?” Her composure flickered. She took a small step back. “And… you should give him back to me. We only broke up because I was young and foolish. It was never because we didn’t love each other.” A short, sharp laugh escaped my lips. “Love?” I twisted the large emerald on my finger, the Ashford family heirloom. “For people like us, ‘love’ is the most irrelevant commodity there is.” The contempt in my voice made her flinch, her breath catching in her throat. I gave a small, dismissive smile and turned to leave. “Audrey!” Clara’s voice was sharp now. She closed the distance between us, leaning in to whisper in my ear. “Does it not bother you at all? Knowing that he and I… that we could have…” She pulled down the collar of her silk pajama top. There, against the pale skin of her collarbone, was a collection of angry, purple marks. My fingers, hanging by my side, curled into a tight fist. But my face remained a mask of serene indifference. “Carnal novelty,” I said, my voice barely a whisper, “has a notoriously short shelf life.” I left her standing there, her face a burning red, choking on her own impotent rage. Back in my room, my hand went to the emerald ring, the symbol of my status as the Ashford matriarch. A wave of despair washed over me. He was Michael Ashford. A man of his caliber, his presence… after three years of sharing a life, a bed, it was inevitable that I would develop feelings. But affection is built up over time. And so is the lack of it. Three strikes, Michael, I thought. That’s the rule. Don’t make me call strike three. 2 The next morning, the door to the master suite opened. Michael stood there, with faint, bruised-looking smudges under his eyes. He must have been up half the night entertaining them. A familiar tightness constricted my chest. Michael was a man of almost pathological self-discipline. For years, even the most intense moments of passion between us, the ones that left a flush on his high cheekbones, were never enough to disrupt his rigid sleep schedule. “Do you like children?” I asked, getting out of bed. I took his tie from the valet stand and began to knot it with practiced precision. He looked down at me, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “They’re fine.” “Let’s have one,” I said. Michael stared at me, his expression unreadable. But he nodded. “Alright.” I knew he wouldn’t refuse. It was a logical, strategic move for our dynasty. Downstairs in the dining room, Clara was holding Lily in her lap. The moment the little girl saw her father, she scrambled down and ran to him, sobbing. As she passed me, she grabbed a piece of still-scalding French toast from my plate and threw it at my silk blouse. “I hate you! You’re a mean lady! Why are you in my daddy’s house?” The sticky heat seeped through the fabric. I frowned, looking directly at Clara. “Control your child. She has no manners—” “Audrey,” Michael’s voice cut in, sharp and cold. “That’s enough. She’s just a child. Clara has been raising her alone for years. I’m the one who owes them.” The words caught in my throat. I felt a dizzying sense of displacement. In three years of marriage, he had never, not once, taken that tone with me. “That’s between you and her,” I said, struggling to keep my voice even, but the anger was already boiling over. “She’s a child, which is precisely why she needs to be taught. What will people say? That Michael Ashford’s daughter is some kind of feral little—” “Audrey Rhodes!” Michael’s warning, laced with an icy fury I had never heard before, snapped me back to reality. I took a deep breath, realizing I shouldn’t have directed my anger at a child. But the man standing before me was a stranger. His eyes were filled with a cold rage. “When Lily was born, Clara was my wife. The woman I married in a church, before God and everyone. You will choose your words more carefully.” With that, he lifted Lily into his arms and turned to leave. Clara rushed to his side, tucking her arm into his. He didn’t pull away. Just before they walked out the door, Clara glanced back over her shoulder. Her smile was pure, unadulterated triumph. I told you, her eyes screamed. He still loves me. The house fell silent. The housekeeper, ever discreet, began clearing the guest rooms, a quiet sigh escaping her lips. I sank onto the sofa in the foyer, my breath coming in ragged, angry gasps. That’s strike two, Michael. Three years ago, after a fundraising gala, Michael and I had both ended up in the wrong hotel suite. Two powerful people, fueled by too much champagne and the magnetic pull of ambition, lost control in the dark. When we woke up, despite our extreme caution, a photographer had caught us leaving the room together. To quell the impending scandal, the Rhodes and Ashford families proposed a merger of the most permanent kind. Before we were married, he told me everything. About his ex-wife, about his daughter. I hadn’t cared. I wasn’t in love with him. After the wedding, he gave me everything a Mrs. Ashford was due: respect, status, a life of impeccable luxury. “Audrey,” he’d once said, his voice low and serious, “you are my wife. You will always be my wife.” But looking back now, it was clear. I was the only one who had ever been truly invested in this marriage. … The following week was the annual Ashford Holdings corporate gala. As the wife of the CEO, my attendance was non-negotiable. Michael drove us, the silence in the car thick and heavy. “Audrey,” he said finally, breaking the tension. “You don’t need to worry. I married you. The title of Mrs. Ashford will always be yours.” I stared out the window at the blur of city lights, saying nothing. My silence was shattered the moment we stepped into the ballroom. A familiar figure approached us. “Mr. Ashford.” Clara was wearing a black evening gown with a neckline that plunged daringly low. Michael gave a curt nod. Only then did she turn to me, her expression a perfect picture of timid deference. “Mrs. Ashford.” I took a slow, deep breath, turning my gaze to my husband. “What is she doing here?” “Clara just moved back to the city. She needed a job. I gave her a sinecure in the marketing department,” he said, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world. My hands, hidden in the folds of my gown, began to tremble. I stared at him, my voice a furious whisper. “You put your ex-wife on your payroll? What am I, Michael? A decoration?” He blinked, as if the thought had genuinely never occurred to him. But I knew better. Michael Ashford was no fool. This wasn’t an oversight. He was indulging her. I would not lose my composure in a room full of sharks. I took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, downed it in one go, and pasted a polished, corporate smile on my face. Hooking my arm through Michael’s, I began to navigate the crowd. An hour later, my head felt thick and heavy. I excused myself to the terrace for some fresh air. I found a wrought-iron bench near the gardens, the cool night air a welcome shock to my system. “Hiding out here all alone? Where’s Ashford?” A warm cashmere jacket was draped over my shoulders, smelling of sandalwood and pine. I turned. Carter Shaw. The formidable head of Shaw Industries. “Thank you,” I said, pulling the jacket tighter. The warmth was unexpectedly comforting. He sat down beside me. “His ex is back. What’s your play?” he asked, his voice low. He looked at me, his gaze unnervingly direct. “If you want her gone, Audrey, I’ll be your blade.” The casual way he spoke of making a person disappear, as if discussing a line item on a budget, didn’t faze me. I turned my head slightly. “Not necessary. I don’t want you to dirty your hands.” Suddenly, he leaned in, invading my space, his face so close I could feel the warmth of his breath. “Forget him. What about me? You know I’ve been a perfect gentleman for you all these years.” His intensity was overwhelming. For a moment, I was at a loss for words. “Carter,” I said softly. “Not right now.” I stood up, leaving him there with a shadow of disappointment in his eyes, and walked back to our car. The gala ended soon after. From the moment Michael got behind the wheel, his eyes were on me. “You and Carter Shaw seem close.” I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “We grew up together, more or less. Our families—” Before I could finish, Michael, the man who lived by rules and restraint, unbuckled his seatbelt. He lunged across the center console, his body pressing me into the leather seat. A kiss, tasting of whiskey and desperation, crushed against my lips. It was fierce, possessive. After a long moment, he pulled back, his dark eyes, usually so calm, now wild with an emotion I couldn’t place. “Audrey,” he breathed, his voice ragged. “You’re mine.” 3 This sudden, raw display of possession didn’t flatter me. It infuriated me. He could carry on a tangled affair with his past, but I was expected to remain a pristine, untouched asset? “Let go of me,” I said, my voice dangerously quiet. Michael didn’t move. A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Are you jealous?” I turned my head away, the petulant gesture feeling childish even to me. “Fire her.” The smile vanished. He pulled back, settling into his seat, the cool, familiar mask of Michael Ashford sliding back into place. “Audrey,” he said, removing his gold-rimmed glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose with a weary sigh. “I’ve told you. You will always be Mrs. Ashford.” “And she still needs to support Lily,” he added. I turned to face him fully, my brow furrowed. “I never said you couldn’t send her money.” He sighed again. “But Lily needs her father. And you know your family—and mine—would never agree to me bringing her to live with us.” I stared at him, a knot of disbelief and hurt tightening in my stomach. “Are you forcing me to choose?” Michael reached across the console, his warm, dry hand covering my own chilled fingers. “I’m just asking you not to make this difficult for her. I promise you, Audrey, your position is secure.” His words, meant to reassure, felt like a slap. He was defending her. And all he thought I cared about was the damned title. The sadness of it was overwhelming. Perhaps, in his eyes, our marriage had never been about anything more than a title. Just then, my phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number. Mrs. Ashford, Michael had a bit too much to drink tonight. Just a reminder, he’s allergic to honey. Please don’t use it to sober him up. Attached was a photo. Michael, leaning against a wall in a dimly lit corner of the gala, his tie loosened and the top button of his shirt undone. I laughed, a sharp, ugly sound. I tossed the phone into his lap. “What is this? Some kind of sick power play?” He frowned, looking at the screen. He sighed, but his voice was calm. “She’s my executive assistant now. This is part of her job.” That was it. The last thread of my control snapped. “Do I need an outsider to remind me of my own husband’s habits? Who the hell does she think she is?” “Audrey,” Michael’s voice was sharp with impatience. He rolled down the window and lit a cigarette. “You’re losing your composure. Clara is the mother of my child. The least you can do is show her a basic level of respect.” I thought I had misheard him. A cold, derisive laugh escaped me. “Respect?” I spat the word out. “She’s earned nothing of the sort.” This time, the look in his eyes stopped me cold. “Audrey Rhodes, watch your tone.” The wind whipping through the open window felt like a thousand tiny needles against my face. It was strong enough to steal the breath from my lungs, and in that moment, it felt like it took my pride with it. I turned to him, my voice cracking almost imperceptibly. “Michael, I am your wife.” “Why do you keep making exceptions for her? Why do you break your own rules for her, again and again?” He just frowned, his expression one of genuine confusion. “The first year we were married, I had a fever of 103. You said you had an important meeting the next day and couldn’t afford to lose sleep. You left me alone in the emergency room. But you can stay up all night playing games with them?” “You knew having her around would upset me, yet you brought her into the company, made her your assistant. You couldn’t just wire her the money?” “And that night, Michael. What happened that night? Did those marks just appear on her neck by magic?” A thousand other small betrayals, like scattered grains of rice, were lodged in my heart. Picking them up one by one was exhausting. The wind stung my eyes, making them water. The pain was immense, yet impossible to articulate. Michael’s composure finally broke. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel. He looked completely lost. “I…” He wanted to explain, but he had no words. We arrived home. He parked the car, but neither of us moved. “Leaving you at the hospital was wrong,” he finally said, his voice strained. “But I sent my assistant to stay with you, didn’t I?” He sounded almost frantic. “I just wanted to compensate Clara for taking care of Lily all these years.” “And I swear to you,” he said, turning to cup my face in his hands, “nothing happened between us.” “I’m sorry, I—” His words were cut off by a child’s cry from outside the car. “Daddy! Come play with Lily!” 4 I snapped back to reality, pushing his hands away from my face. We got out of the car. Clara stood there, holding Lily’s hand, her expression timid. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Ashford. Lily just missed her daddy so much. I couldn’t stop her.” Michael glanced at my rigid, icy expression. He took Lily inside, handed her off to the housekeeper, and then returned to the living room where Clara and I stood in silence. He sat on the sofa, his face a mask of cold fury. “Explain,” he said, tossing his phone onto the coffee table. The sound made Clara jump. Seeing the thunderous look on his face, she seemed genuinely flustered. “What do you want me to explain?” “Sending these manipulative texts to Audrey. What was your goal?” Tears instantly welled in Clara’s eyes. Her voice trembled. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking! I just remembered that both you and Lily are allergic to honey, and I just… I acted on instinct.” She turned to me, wringing her hands, a picture of remorse. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Ashford. I overstepped.” I rose from my chair and walked over to her. I tipped her chin up with my finger, my touch conveying utter disdain. “In what capacity, exactly, did you feel the need to ‘remind’ me of anything?” My eyes were like chips of ice. I released her chin as if touching something unclean. “Lose the act. I’ve seen countless women try to claw their way into the Ashford family. Trust me, you don’t want to know what happened to them.” Clara’s face went white, the humiliation of my gesture stinging her more than a slap. Michael, hearing the explanation about the allergy, seemed to relax. The tense line of his jaw softened. “That’s enough. Take Lily and go home. And from now on, you are not to come here without my explicit permission.” He positioned himself slightly between us, breaking our standoff. Clara’s tears fell freely now. With a choked sob, she collected her daughter and left. But the next evening, my world tilted on its axis. A frantic call from Michael summoned me to the hospital. Lily was in the ICU. I stood there, stunned into silence. “Audrey!” Clara, her face a mess of tears and rage, shoved me hard. “I took her away! I left! Why did you have to hire someone to run her down? She’s only three years old!” I stumbled, catching my balance, my voice sharp with disbelief. “Are you insane? You can’t just invent accusations out of thin air!” Michael, his face dark with a terrifying mix of grief and suspicion, stepped forward. He pushed a tablet into my hands. It was a video of a police interrogation. “It was Audrey Rhodes,” a grimy-looking man said, his words tumbling out in a rush. “She gave me a hundred thousand dollars to hit the kid with my car. Said she’d give me another hundred when it was done.” I stared at the screen, my heart hammering against my ribs. “He’s lying! This is a setup!” I looked at Michael, my voice pleading. “You don’t actually believe I did this, do you?” He closed his eyes, his voice heavy with defeat. “I don’t want to. But the man is the distant nephew of a Rhodes family chauffeur, Audrey. Are you telling me that’s a coincidence?” His roar of accusation echoed in the sterile hallway. And in that moment, something inside me broke. It was a clean, quiet snap. Some people, I realized, were simply not worth the fight. “That’s strike three, Michael.” He looked at me, confused. I met his gaze, all the pain and hurt in my own eyes now gone, replaced by a chilling clarity. “Believe whatever you want. But know this: I, Audrey Rhodes, do not resort to such pathetic, low-life tactics.” I then turned to the sobbing Clara. “You’re just like Medea, aren’t you? Willing to sacrifice your own child to destroy the queen. You’re a monster.” I took a deep breath, refusing to show any weakness. Then I turned and walked away. In the car, I made two calls. The first was to my lawyer. “Prepare the divorce papers and a full asset division. I want them on my desk by tomorrow.” The second was to my executive assistant at the Rhodes Corporation. “Starting in three days, I want a full-scale corporate assault on Ashford Holdings. Liquidate everything. I want them bleeding.” I looked up at the dark, bruised sky. My heart was cold. “Michael Ashford,” I whispered to the empty car. “Betraying me comes with a price.”

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

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384922”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

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

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After signing the divorce papers, I went back to Ethan’s to pack. He leaned in the doorway, smirking, as I boxed every pot and pan I’d ever bought. “For someone getting divorced, you look more like you’re looting the place,” he sneered. “What’s next? The toilet?” He always spoke with such venom. I used to shout back, but not anymore. We were done. My silence seemed to infuriate him. He turned and yelled into the house, “Rick! Get your piggy bank—your mother bought that too.” Soon, little footsteps approached, and a boy ran out holding a ceramic pig. He held it out to me. “Mom,” he said flatly, “I know you’re broke. Take this for bus fare. But promise you won’t come back. Don’t bother me, Dad, or Aunt Beth.” Hearing my son mention his father’s mistress used to feel like a knife to the gut. But now, I just smiled, knelt, and ruffled his hair. “Don’t worry,” I said softly. “Even if you came back begging on your knees, I would never return.” 1 After I spoke, I took the piggy bank from Rick’s hands. Then, I simply let it slip from my fingers. The ceramic shattered on the hardwood floor, a perfect metaphor for the five years of love I’d poured into my son. He came from my own body, yet our bond had rotted to the core. Rick stared at me, his eyes wide with shock. I just offered him a cold, mocking smile. Grabbing my suitcase in one hand and the heavy box in the other, I walked out of that house for the last time. As soon as I reached the street, I hailed a cab and headed for the train station. On the way, the kid-friendly smartwatch I’d bought him started calling me, over and over. I had no idea what he wanted. It used to be that no matter what I was doing—in a meeting, in the bathroom, fast asleep—I would always answer his call. This time, I blocked his number. What was there to talk about? I remembered his fifth birthday like it was yesterday. His face was aglow with excitement as he made his wish. “Mommy,” he’d said, “you know how you read in that picture book that you’d make any wish of mine come true? Is that right?” “So for my wish,” he’d continued, his eyes sparkling with innocent cruelty, “I want a new mom. I don’t want you anymore. I want Aunt Beth to be my mom. Can you do that?” The color drained from my face. Beside him, Ethan let out a derisive laugh. “See, Amy? You’re just so unlikable, even your own son wants to trade you in.” He’d grinned. “You should be grateful I stuck with you for seven years without doing the same.” His words had felt like stones in my throat, and I’d fought back the tears that threatened to spill. Then Rick, my own son, had twisted the knife. “Dad, why are you even talking to her? A nagging woman like her doesn’t deserve to be loved by anyone.” So, a child like that? Why would I ever want him back? Besides, at the end of the long journey ahead of me, Rick was gone. And another child, one who also called me “Mommy,” was waiting. 2 The journey was grueling. An eight-hour train ride, a four-hour bus journey, and the last thirty minutes on the back of a sputtering motorbike. I finally arrived at my destination. But just as I was about to push open the gate to find the little girl, my phone rang. It was Ethan. My first instinct was to hang up. But he was relentless. I’d decline the call, and he’d immediately call back. Finally, I snapped and answered. His angry voice shot through the receiver. “Amy, what the hell are you doing? Why did it take you so long to answer? Rick has a fever!” Hearing those words—Rick has a fever—my heart clenched instinctively. A mother’s reflex, buried deep. I remembered when I was pregnant with him. Ethan’s business had just collapsed, and he’d sunk into a deep depression. I spent my days fending off his creditors and my nights trying to manage his dark moods, my own body flooded with anxiety. As a result, Rick arrived early, at thirty-five weeks. My water broke first. I was frantic, pounding on Ethan’s bedroom door, but he was lost in his illness, refusing to answer or open up. So I had to grab the hospital bag myself, stumble down the stairs with amniotic fluid soaking my legs, and hail my own cab, all while enduring the rhythmic agony of contractions. But I was too late. Rick nearly suffocated inside me. The doctors performed an emergency C-section and saved him, but he still spent a month in an incubator. Even after he came home, his premature birth left him fragile. He was constantly sick, his tiny hands, feet, and head a roadmap of needle pricks from IVs. Every time he cried in pain, I felt a wave of guilt so profound I wished it were me lying there instead. Over the years, worrying about him, hurting for him—it had become part of my very bones. So even though I wanted to scream back at Ethan—We’re divorced, remember? You have full custody. You’re the one who added that clause to the papers saying I couldn’t see him unless it was an emergency, so his fever is your problem!—the words got tangled up with that deep-seated maternal instinct. What came out instead was a sigh. “Ethan, take his temperature. If it’s over 101.5, give him the children’s ibuprofen.” My voice was automatic, tired. “It’s in the living room cabinet, third shelf. The dosage is on the bottle, follow it exactly.” “If it’s not that high, there are cooling patches on the same shelf. Stick one on his forehead and wipe him down with a lukewarm cloth.” “After that, give him 10ml of the cold medicine from the orange box. No more than 10ml.” “And if his fever spikes to 103 tonight, you have to take him to the hospital.” I was meticulous, first because Rick’s weak constitution meant a small mistake could make things much worse, and second, because I hoped that if I taught Ethan how to do it this one time, he would never have to call me again. But my careful explanation only fueled his anger. “You think I’m a damn doctor? You think I can just follow a list of instructions?” he roared. “And what kind of mother are you, giving orders over the phone instead of getting your ass back here to take care of your son?” His shouting was so familiar. I squeezed the phone, the plastic creaking under the pressure. This wasn’t the first time. It was an old, ugly pattern. After his business failed and depression took hold three years ago, he’d refused to work, refused to earn a single dollar. To keep us afloat and care for a baby, I started running food deliveries by day and ghostwriting academic papers by night. I even timed my deliveries so I could race home every two hours to breastfeed. But even in those two-hour windows, Ethan wouldn’t watch Rick. I’d come home to his bitter reproaches and a baby wailing in a diaper heavy with his own filth, his little hands red from chewing them in hunger. After eight months of this hell, I finally broke. One day, I came home to find Rick screaming, a terrible rash blooming from a soiled diaper Ethan hadn’t bothered to change. In a blind rage, I slapped him. Hard. “You have depression, Ethan, you’re not a paraplegic!” I’d shrieked, my voice raw and hysterical. “Your son is starving to death! Can’t you at least stir some formula or change a damn diaper?” He never forgave me for that slap. He stormed out and didn’t come back for a week. When he did, he started looking for work, eventually starting another business that succeeded. But from that day on, he hated me. Every word he spoke to me was either a criticism or a thinly veiled insult, as if forcing a man with depression to provide for his family was the most unforgivable sin in the world. For years, I put up with it, all for Rick, for the idea of a complete family. But we were divorced now. And still, he felt entitled to berate me. I was about to unleash years of pent-up fury, to finally tell him where he could go. But before I could get a word out, another voice cut through the line—a soft, gentle one. “Ethan, I’m here,” it said. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this. Rick will be fine.” The sound of that voice sent a familiar shard of ice through my heart. It was Beth. Ethan’s therapist during his depression. His affair partner. The woman my son wished was his mother. I was the one who found her for him, scouring listings and reviews for the best psychologist. Each session cost a thousand dollars, money I scraped together from the very bottom of our savings. But did Ethan appreciate my sacrifice? No. He saved all his gratitude for Beth, the woman who had “extended a hand of friendship and pulled him from the depths of his despair.” After his business took off again, he showered her with gifts: limited-edition handbags, expensive jewelry. A single phone call from her, and he would drop everything and run. Even when I caught them together in a five-star hotel room, he had dressed himself with infuriating calm. “Amy, what’s the big deal?” he’d said, buttoning his shirt. “When I was at my lowest, you were pushing me to go out and work. If it wasn’t for Beth, I’d probably be dead. Now get out. Beth and I have dinner reservations.” And Rick… Rick was just the same. He was a naturally mischievous kid, so I was strict with him. When he did something wrong, no amount of crying or tantrums would stop me from disciplining him. But Ethan couldn’t stand it. “All you ever do is lecture him,” he’d grumble. “Come on, Rick, ignore your mother. Dad will take you to see Aunt Beth.” And off they’d go, father and son, leaving my half-finished lecture hanging in the air. They’d go to Beth’s, and the three of them would act like a perfect little family, eating McDonald’s and KFC and doing all the things I’d forbidden. Because of that, Rick decided I was the bad mom. Only Beth was worthy of the title. The memory of it all was suffocating. As Beth’s voice soothed Ethan, I heard Rick in the background. “Mommy Beth, you’re here! I missed you so much!” Then, the line went dead. I listened to the dial tone, and a bitter laugh escaped my lips. My fault, I thought. For daring to care. Just as that familiar, needle-like ache for Ethan and Rick began to prick at my heart again, a small, timid voice drifted from the dilapidated country house in front of me. “Hello? Who are you looking for? What are you doing outside our house?”

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I was reborn at my first birthday party. Endowed with the powers of a lucky charm, I ignored my parents’ hopeful plea. In my past life, I used my abilities to help my parents become the richest people in the country. My eldest brother became a business tycoon, my second a renowned surgeon, and my third a pop superstar. Only my adopted sister, Julia, received no benefit from my powers due to our lack of a blood connection. She failed her college entrance exams at eighteen, was kidnapped at twenty, and died in an accident at twenty-five. Before she died, she tearfully said, “It’s not Mia’s fault. I was always an outsider. It makes sense she wouldn’t help me.” My entire family believed I had let her suffer out of jealousy. They imprisoned me, conducted horrific experiments to channel my luck and resurrect Julia, and tortured me until I died. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at my first birthday party. My father was smiling down at me. “My darling daughter,” he cooed, “do you think Daddy should sign this ten-million-dollar project?” I blinked once, then smeared a handful of mud right across his face. 1 The entire room fell silent. I gripped another handful of wet soil from a nearby flowerpot and slapped it onto my father’s cheek. The hands holding me went rigid, his expression on the verge of crumbling. Guests exchanged uneasy glances. Only Julia, my adopted sister, had a flash of triumph in her eyes before she let out a piercing shriek and rushed forward, her face a mask of concern. “Daddy, are you okay? Oh, Mia is being such a handful!” My father wiped furiously at the mud, then shoved me into a nanny’s arms in disgust. “The mystic clearly said she had a lucky charm aura, that she was born lucky! Why is she acting like a little demon?” Julia bit her lip and whispered, just loud enough for everyone to hear, “She’s been with us for a year now, and it’s not like she’s brought us that much good fortune. Maybe it’s not real?” She added, “I was taking care of her the other day, and she bit me. She’s not some child prodigy, she’s more like…” My eldest brother snorted. “A demon child is more like it.” “Mia has done nothing but torment us since she was born,” he said coldly. “Because of her, Julia has been neglected and suffered so much.” “I think this whole lucky charm thing is a scam. She’s nothing but a debt collector sent to ruin us!” My mother studied me with a frown before finally sighing. “She’s just a one-year-old. What does she know?” “Still,” she mused, “the company did go public right after she was born. Maybe throwing the mud was her way of stopping you.” My father paced anxiously. “Fine. I won’t sign the project. We’ll see if she’s really got the magic touch or not.” With that, he hurried off to change, and my first birthday party came to an abrupt, messy end. The moment my parents were gone, Julia’s mask dropped. Her eyes turned venomous as she stared at me. “You really are a lucky charm, little sister. Daddy is such a neat freak, and he didn’t even punish you. I guess blood really is thicker than water.” My eldest brother immediately walked over, casting a disdainful glance at me. “Don’t be sad, Julia. We only see you as our sister.” “If that mystic hadn’t said Mia could bring us good luck, Mom and Dad would have never had her.” “If she ever tries to compete with you for their affection, we’ll always be on your side.” My other two brothers nodded in agreement, taking Julia’s hands to comfort her. In my past life, my parents had given up on having a daughter after three sons and adopted Julia. They had a deep bond. My three biological brothers saw me as an accident, an afterthought, and treated me with absolute indifference. Because my luck never extended to Julia, they were convinced I was deliberately harming her. I was so naive then. I thought that if I just showered them with good fortune, they would finally love me. Instead, I was tortured and dismembered. Watching them now, a happy, loving family unit, I opened my mouth and let out a piercing wail. Julia shot me a cold look and raised her hand, ready to pinch me. “So annoying!” But just then, my father ran back into the room, his face alight with excitement. He swept me into his arms, interrupting her. “The lead company for that project just skipped town with the money! The entire thing was a scam!” He held me tight. “We were saved! Mia, you really are my lucky star!” 2 My father roared with laughter, ordering the butler to have a solid gold security pendant made for me. “We can’t neglect my little lucky star! From now on, the best of everything is for Mia!” My brothers and Julia stared, their eyes wide with shock. My third brother cried out, “Dad, how can you be so biased towards Mia? Julia is our sister!” Julia’s eyes reddened on cue, and she lowered her head, a picture of silent, stoic suffering. My father immediately put me down and cleared his throat. “Now, now. I’ve treated Julia like my own daughter for years. How could I be biased?” He quickly added, “Didn’t Julia have her eye on that twenty-million-dollar necklace the other day? I’ll have it delivered to the house today.” Julia’s tears vanished. She ran over to him, beaming. “Oh, Daddy, you’re the best! I was so worried that after Mia was born, you wouldn’t care about me anymore.” He stroked her hair lovingly. “Silly girl. You’ll always be Mommy and Daddy’s little princess.” She turned and shot me a triumphant smirk. I didn’t understand why Julia was so hostile towards a one-year-old, but it was clear she was determined to crush me from the start. My father often asked for my “lucky” input on his decisions, but I didn’t always oblige. Whenever they tried to make me use my luck for Julia’s benefit, I would burst into tears. And for the following month, bad luck would plague the entire family. My parents’ business would suffer. My eldest brother would be sabotaged by a competitor. My second brother would swear he saw a ghost in the hospital morgue. My third brother would think he’d been discovered by a talent scout, only to be scammed out of all his money. After this happened a few times, they noticed the pattern but couldn’t figure out the cause. I was not yet two, barely able to string a sentence together, so I just pretended not to understand them. Julia’s expression grew uglier by the day. Now, anyone would connect the family’s misfortune directly to her. The breaking point came when another of my father’s business decisions failed catastrophically, nearly bankrupting the company. Julia collapsed into tears, covering her face. “It’s me! The bad luck only affects me! It’s because Mia doesn’t like me.” “I should just leave,” she sobbed. “I can’t drag Mom, Dad, and my brothers down with me.” They all rushed to her side, their faces etched with panic. “Julia, it’s not your fault! You’re our daughter! This will always be your home!” “That’s right! If anyone’s to blame, it’s Mia! She’s stealing our good luck, that’s why everything has been going wrong!” At my second brother’s words, my mother’s gaze turned to me, full of resentment. “I wish Julia were my biological daughter. She’s so sweet and obedient, not like this little monster who’s been causing trouble since she was two.” My father made a decision. He was calling the mystic back. “He said Mia would bring us good fortune! I want to ask him why she’s been doing nothing but cursing us!” When the mystic arrived, he observed me for a long time. I pointed a chubby finger at Julia and managed one, babyish word: “Dark… dark…” My eldest brother’s face darkened. “Julia is fair and beautiful. Mia is already spouting nonsense. No wonder she’s been cursing us.” The others looked displeased, their hearts aching at the sight of Julia’s wounded expression. But the mystic stroked his beard and spoke. “This has nothing to do with Miss Mia. The source of the recent misfortune… is Miss Julia.” 3 The word had barely left his mouth before they all shouted in unison, “Impossible!” My third brother’s voice was shaking with rage. “You’re a fraud! A liar! Julia has lived with us for over a decade. How could she possibly bring us bad luck?” He looked ready to punch the man, but my father held him back. My father’s eyes were narrow and suspicious. “Master,” he demanded, “you told me my daughter would bring good fortune, but you never said Julia would be cursed. Now my entire family is suffering because of Mia. You owe me an explanation.” My mother, her eyes red, pulled Julia into a protective embrace. “Master, please, you have to do something! You have to break this curse!” The mystic simply shook his head. “Mia’s luck can only affect her blood relatives, and she is only two years old. It is likely that your attempts to force her to channel her luck for Julia have caused a backlash. It has turned your good fortune into a curse, and now Miss Julia is shrouded in a dark, malevolent aura.” He gave them a long, meaningful look. “I have said all that I can. The rest is up to you.” With that, he turned and left. Julia let out a choked sob. “I’m just an adopted daughter. I should have never been greedy for the Shaw family’s wealth. Then Mommy and Daddy wouldn’t have been cursed.” She straightened her shoulders. “It’s better to sacrifice me, so that my parents and brothers can have their good fortune back.” Her speech was so noble that, of course, they refused. They swore they would never let her suffer alone. My eldest brother’s voice was firm. “It’s not your fault, Julia. It’s Mia. She’s been biased against you from the start. We will not give in to a toddler’s whims.” My third brother added wistfully, “If only Julia were the lucky charm.” They all nodded in agreement. I wanted to roll my eyes. Julia’s gaze towards me was now laced with fear, and in private, she became even more vicious, pinching me and withholding food. But I wasn’t a real child. Whenever she hurt me, I made sure the whole family paid the price. The Shaws’ attempts to get lucky now only worked one or two times out of ten. After every failure, they would rack their brains, trying to remember if they had accidentally mentioned Julia. And so it went until I was five. My parents’ company was still floundering. My three brothers were still failures. And Julia had hit rock bottom, failing her exams so badly she couldn’t even get into a community college. The night the results came out, she cried all night, the entire family gathered around to console her. When she saw me, she lunged, her sharp nails leaving red scratches on my face. “It’s all your fault! Why wouldn’t you give me your luck?” My third brother, startled, moved to stop her. “I can’t even go to college!” she shrieked. “Can’t I even take my anger out on the person who caused it? Don’t you even care about me anymore?” My parents said nothing, turning a blind eye to the scene. My eldest brother took Julia’s hand. “Don’t worry, Julia,” he whispered. “We’ll get back at her for you.” That night, my three brothers dragged me out of the house, blindfolded me, and dumped me in a dark, deserted alley. “Julia, we’re leaving her here to teach her a lesson. This is for you.” I cried out for them, but they never looked back. They left, laughing, on their way to take Julia to an amusement park. The moment the light from their car disappeared, my heart turned to ice. They wanted to punish me, but they forgot one thing. I was a lucky charm. As I stumbled out of the alley, I cashed in all the good luck I had been withholding from my family for years, all for a single wish. Moments later, a car pulled up beside me. “Whose child is this? Are you lost?” I looked up and recognized her instantly. It was Mrs. Sterling, one of the most powerful and philanthropic women in the city. Tears streamed down my face. “My brothers…” I sobbed, my voice trembling. “They’re throwing me away.”

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The first day of preschool. My darling boy was clinging to a police officer, bawling his eyes out. “Help me! I don’t wanna go to school!” Sigh. I stepped forward to pry my son off the poor man, and then… I froze. Because this wasn’t just any cop. It was my damn ex. 1 I’ll admit, a man in uniform has a certain appeal. My son, Theo, was attached to him like a little koala, his arms and legs wrapped tight. His little nose and eyes were red and puffy from crying, his breath catching in hiccuping sobs as he buried his head in the officer’s neck, completely secure. The officer, however, looked anything but secure when he saw me. His face changed instantly. My own heart lurched. Four years since the breakup, and of all the places to run into him, it had to be here. All I could think was, what rotten luck. I’d sworn four years ago that if I ever saw him again, I’d be struck by lightning. Looks like my karmic retribution was just around the corner. But before divine justice could smite me, I had to get my son back. “Theo, honey, come here. You’re getting the nice officer’s uniform all dirty,” I tried, hoping a little white lie would do the trick. The little traitor didn’t even spare me a glance, having already defected to the enemy. Chace’s eyes, sharp and intense, were fixed on me. His brow was furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line. He was staring at me like he was aiming a sniper rifle right at my soul, and it was making my skin crawl. I just prayed my son would get the telepathic message and come to me. “No,” Theo mumbled, tightening his little arms. He looked at me with tear-filled, mournful eyes. “I…” Forgive my inner brute, but at this rate, I’d never get this kid into school. This… this little rebel! He was forcing my hand. “Listen up, kiddo. Police officers are here to catch naughty little boys. You want a shiny pair of silver bracelets? A nice, hard bed at the station? Little Joey from next door has been eyeing your Super Wings collection for a long time. The second you’re hauled away, I’m giving it all to him.” It wasn’t just Theo; Chace’s expression darkened even further. His handsome face was like a storm cloud rolling in. He always looked like that when he was angry. I used to be able to gauge the exact level of his fury by the shade of his scowl. Right now, we were at DEFCON 1, probably because I was slandering his entire profession. I know, I know, you’re not supposed to use police officers to scare children. But I was desperate. “Officer, do you really arrest little kids?” Theo asked, cupping Chace’s face with his chubby hands, his eyes brimming with pitiful tears. “No,” Chace answered firmly. Excuse me?? Alright, fine. So much for my authority. I glanced at my watch. If I didn’t get Theo into that school soon, I was going to be late for work, and there went my perfect attendance bonus for the month. “But,” Chace added, his tone softening, “officers don’t like boys who don’t behave. Are you a good boy?” My little fool nodded obediently, his voice milky. “I am. Theo is the bestest boy.” “Good. Then I’ll take you inside,” Chace said, his voice shifting. With a single fluid motion, he strode past me, carrying Theo into the preschool. I scurried behind them, marveling at how easily he’d handled it. A kid was just a kid. How could he possibly outsmart Chace? The memory of how thoroughly Chace used to run circles around me still brought a sting to my eyes. 2 After dropping off Theo, I’d have to hit every green light to make it to work on time. But it was rush hour. Getting a ride wasn’t going to be easy. “Where are you going?” Chace asked, his voice cold. “To work,” I said evasively. It was awkward enough running into an ex, let alone one with our history. “I’ll give you a ride,” he stated, his face a blank mask. “Using a public vehicle for personal business on company time…” I clicked my tongue, my face a picture of disapproval. Even on the verge of being late, a taxpayer had to defend her rights. Chace pressed a button on his key fob, and a black SUV parked nearby beeped. I jumped. He got in, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “You seem to know a lot. I just finished the night shift. I’m on my way home to sleep, and this is my personal car.” “Oh.” Mortified, I quickly looked down at my phone. The rideshare app was useless; not a single car was available. “Scared to get in? Zara, you used to be so brave. You think I’m going to eat you?” Chace rested his arm on the open window, his expression openly challenging. I have many virtues, but resisting a dare is not one of them. “Scared of you? Please…” I opened the door and slid into the passenger seat. “102 Lakeside Drive. Thanks.” Chace hit the gas, and the SUV pulled out into traffic. It was like the traffic gods were smiling down on me. We didn’t hit a single red light. I clenched my fists in excitement. My perfect attendance bonus was safe. “Why are you shaking?” Chace glanced at me from the corner of his eye. His profile was chiseled, like something out of a sculpture gallery, flawless from every angle. “I’m not shaking,” I said stubbornly, quickly placing my hands primly on my knees. “Is Theo your son?” Chace asked. “Would he be calling me ‘Mom’ if he wasn’t?” I shot back. I was surprised. He was the one who left me. Why did he care now if Theo was my son? It was none of his business. “You’re married?” His voice was low, betraying no emotion, but it sent an uncomfortable chill down my spine. I suddenly pictured him in an interrogation room, questioning a suspect. He was questioning me the same way. “Yes.” That should have been the end of it. But I forgot that Chace wasn’t a normal person. The conversation only ended when he decided it was over. A guy with his personality would never find a girlfriend in today’s world. I must have been blinded by his looks back then, falling for his tricks before I knew what was happening. Later, when his interest faded, I had enough self-respect to leave quietly. “Where is he? Why didn’t he come with you to drop Theo off today?” Chace was relentless. Once he wanted to know something, he wouldn’t let it go. “That’s my private business,” I protested. “When was Theo born? What month, what year?” I… 3 If we weren’t in his car, I would have cursed him and his entire family tree. But I knew him. The more I tried to hide things about Theo, the more suspicious he’d become. Fine. I’d fall back on a classic cliché. That would shut him up and stop him from demanding to meet my “husband.” “Since you’re so concerned about your ex-girlfriend, and it’s not like it’s some dark secret… after we broke up, my family set me up on a blind date. My husband was very wealthy, a big deal in business. We were always apart because of his work, and then… he died in a car accident before Theo was even a year old… I’ve been raising Theo by myself all these years, doing everything for him, being both a mother and a father…” I covered my face, my head bowed in sorrow. You have to commit to the performance. It worked. Chace stopped asking questions. But the veins on the back of his hands stood out against the steering wheel. The atmosphere in the car instantly tensed, the temperature dropping by at least ten degrees. Since he didn’t respond, I couldn’t muster any real tears. I kept my face hidden and turned to look out the window. Through the gaps in my fingers, I watched the city blur past, desperately wishing, Are we there yet? I knew it. I would have rather lost the bonus than get in this car. “I’m sorry.” What? I thought I’d misheard. “What did you just say?” I asked. “I don’t repeat myself.” I shot him a dirty look. What was he apologizing for now? Just then, his phone rang. It sounded like a call for backup. He exchanged a few brief words and hung up. He pulled the car over to the side of the road and turned to face me. “Your office is just around the corner. You can run from here. I have to go, I’m needed on a call.” “Okay,” I said, getting out. I watched him speed away without a second glance back. The same person, the same situation. It was like we were back four years ago. During his second year as a cop, he was always on call. No matter where we were or what we were doing, one phone call and he was gone. I understood all of it. I never threw a fit or gave him a hard time. But he never knew how hard the lonely nights were, how much I worried every time I watched him leave. Well, that was all over now. I had Theo to keep me company. As for Chace, some other woman could worry about him now. I clocked into work with one minute to spare. With that kind of luck, it was bound to be a great day. Or so I thought. Just as I was about to clock out, my boss dropped an urgent task on my desk. Damn it. I had to rush. I had promised Theo I’d be the first one to pick him up today. After finishing my work, I sprinted out of the office faster than anyone. By the time I reached the preschool, I felt like I was half-dead. And I was still too late. Parents were already leaving with their children. Theo was probably standing by the gate all by himself again, waiting for me. I was still trying to figure out how to explain being late when I looked up and saw Chace. He was here again. And he was holding my son. 4 He’d changed out of his uniform and was wearing casual clothes. His arms, exposed below the short sleeves, were a sun-kissed bronze, all corded muscle. The simple t-shirt clung to his broad chest, looking even better than the uniform. He was holding Theo with one arm. At six-foot-one, with broad shoulders and long legs, he cut an impressive figure. Every young mother and pretty teacher that walked by did a double-take. Figures. The man was still a walking hazard. “Mommy!” Theo reached his little arms out for me. That sweet little voice melted my heart. “Mommy’s here,” I said, taking him from Chace and hugging him tight, planting a big kiss on his forehead. I hadn’t seen him all day, and my eyes started to sting. “Theo saw me when I got here and started crying for me, so I brought him out,” Chace explained. “Right. Thanks.” After I answered, it hit me. Are cops really this free? Why was he hanging around a preschool? “Wait, what are you doing here?” I asked, looking at him suspiciously. He wasn’t planning something, was he? Chace’s lips curved into a smile. He reached behind him and pulled out a little girl, hoisting her into his arms. “Picking up my kid.” I had been so focused on Theo that I hadn’t even noticed the little girl hiding behind his leg. I felt like a complete idiot. So much for thinking I was special. Four years was plenty of time for him to get married and have a child. We were broken up. He hadn’t done anything wrong. But a tidal wave of emotion washed over me—disappointment, hurt, a suffocating tightness in my chest. “We’re going now. Goodbye,” I said, my eyes downcast. I hugged Theo tighter and walked away quickly. Chace called my name from behind, but I ignored him. “Mommy, the officer is calling you,” Theo reminded me. “Don’t listen to him.” The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I had spent the last four years thinking about him, and now it was clear he’d probably forgotten all about me. If not for this chance encounter, we might have never seen each other again. “Good boys don’t lie. You heard him. And the officer said I’d get a present if I was good,” Theo argued, his loyalty clearly misplaced. His world now revolved around the police officer. “You want a pair of silver bracelets?” Theo burst into tears. I was completely caught off guard and had to spend the next few minutes hugging and soothing him. That night, Theo had a nightmare, mumbling about not wanting silver bracelets in his sleep. I was filled with regret. I had to stop scaring him like that. It was bad for both of us. The apartment was quiet, but I couldn’t sleep. I replayed the day’s events in my mind, thinking of Chace, of the little girl by his side, and my heart ached with a familiar sourness. 5 We got together because I was completely powerless against his good looks. Chace was at the police academy, and I was at the art school right across the street. It was like the two universities had planned it. Every day, droves of pretty art students would gaze across the street at the handsome future police officers, and the police cadets would shout their drills extra loud to attract the attention of the delicate young women. The fact that Chace and I hit it off stunned a lot of people, including me. I wasn’t anything special. I had a reasonably pretty face and a talent for drawing. For four years of college, Chace was my exclusive model. He seemed to enjoy it. He was a quiet person; when he wasn’t exercising, he was staring into space. He always corrected me, insisting he was “thinking,” not “spacing out.” I would just laugh and tell him his defensiveness was a dead giveaway. After graduation, he was assigned to a local precinct, and I found a job as a design assistant. As rookies in the professional world, we barely had any free time. Chace rented an apartment near my office and asked me to move in with him. It was only later that I realized he did it so I could sleep in a little longer in the mornings. I was terrible at waking up, often pulling all-nighters to finish projects. Those extra minutes of sleep were precious. Everything seemed to be moving in the right direction. We would be like most couples: save up some money, get married, have kids, and live a quiet life. But in his second year on the force, things changed. He was always working overtime, always taking calls. The rare date we had would inevitably be cut short by some emergency. I was committed to him, so none of that mattered. He was a cop; I understood the nature of his job. But some things you can’t fight. Love, like the tide, comes in and goes out. It was a harsh reality, but one I had to accept. Chace spoke to me less and less. We saw each other less and less. His coldness and avoidance felt like he was trying to push me into being the one to say it was over. I didn’t want to, but I wasn’t going to beg. After all those years together, I deserved better. It’s strange, but the day we broke up was the only time we were ever truly intimate. And I initiated it. I don’t know if that’s something to be proud of or sad about. I’d had a few drinks. I kicked open his bedroom door and pounced on him. He tried to resist, so I just grabbed his collar, buried my face in his chest, and cried. In the end, I got what I wanted. But the feeling between us was gone. If there was no feeling left, why cling to a one-sided love? I left quietly while he was away on a business trip. What happened next was like a cosmic joke. That one time… I got pregnant. Without a second thought, I had Theo and raised him by myself. As for Chace, it never even crossed my mind to tell him. In my sleep, I heard Theo whimpering about not wanting to go to preschool tomorrow. I turned and wrapped my arms around his small, soft body. When I touched my own face, I realized it was wet with tears. “I don’t want to go to preschool either. I’ll have to see him,” I whispered. I hoped Chace wouldn’t be the one dropping off his kid tomorrow. I sighed, found a comfortable position, and closed my eyes. 6 Well, damn. The next morning, I woke up sick. My usually indestructible body had finally given up. I was a mess, sniffling and weak. I was afraid of getting Theo sick, so I asked my friend Chloe to watch him for a few days. She was his godmother, a single woman with a hopeless weakness for adorable little boys like mine, but a deep-seated disdain for me. She was always telling me to find a good man and settle down. I always brushed her off. Good men weren’t exactly easy to find. Even though I was sick, I still had to work. How else was I going to support the two of us? Finally, my boss couldn’t take it anymore. I think the sight of me trying to give a presentation while simultaneously blowing my nose, wiping my eyes, and speaking in a hoarse croak was too much for him. He mercifully gave me two days off. Sleeping in on a workday was pure bliss. The sickness came on strangely, but it left just as quickly. After a few days of rest, I was mostly better. I called Chloe to arrange picking Theo up, only to find out she was at a birthday party! “Where is my son? What did you do with him?” Chloe was full of apologies. “Just tell me where he is! I’m going to get him!” Could a best friend be any more unreliable? She hemmed and hawed, but I finally cornered her until she confessed. “23 River Road, Apartment 5-3-202.” I froze. I would never forget that address. It was where Chace and I had lived four years ago. A dark premonition washed over me. This was not going to be simple. “Chloe, I swear I’m going to kill you!” I was at my wit’s end. “Now, Zara, don’t be like that. You’ve been raising Theo alone for all these years, for what? Chace is his father, and he hasn’t done a single thing. What’s wrong with him watching his own son for a few days? Why are you so stubborn? If you ask me, you never should have hidden it from him. Maybe you two would have never broken up.” Was I wrong? No. You can’t force someone to walk the same path as you. He was married with a child now. I couldn’t be the one to wreck his family. “It’s impossible for Chace and me. He’s married,” I sighed. Chloe started to say something else, but I hung up, grabbed my bag and coat, and headed out to get my son. I hailed a cab, but the traffic was a nightmare. I’d hit rush hour again. The scenery was mostly the same as it had been four years ago. Chace had rented this place because it was close to my office. After we broke up, I moved out and never came back. I now lived in a small loft apartment that I’d bought outright. It was a bit out of the way, and I spent almost an hour commuting each day. But I bought it because it was far away. Far enough to avoid him. To never see him again. And now, after running in circles, I was right back where I started. I took a shaky breath, stood at the door, and rang the bell. 7 The doorbell was the same one I’d programmed. When you pressed it outside, a recording of my voice would play inside: “Chace and Zara, you have a visitor!” What was once sweet was now excruciatingly awkward. Why hadn’t he changed it?! The door opened. Chace was in loose-fitting loungewear, with Theo perched on his shoulders. Their faces were smeared with face paint, and they were holding toy guns. They had clearly been playing soldiers. Theo’s eyes were shining with an excitement he couldn’t hide. I could see he liked Chace. Did he even want him to be his father? I quickly squashed the ridiculous thought. Chace was married. Theo and I couldn’t become a joke. “Mommy! The officer and I are playing guns! We’re special forces! Come in, Mommy!” Theo tugged on my arm, but I remained rooted to the spot outside the door. The excitement on Chace’s face faded. “Come in,” he said. “It’s not Chloe’s fault. I was the one who asked to have Theo over.” I scoffed. “Don’t you have to work?” “I took some vacation time. I haven’t had a vacation in four years,” he said, his eyes fixed on me. The words were loaded. He deliberately emphasized four years. We had been apart for exactly four years. “Well, thanks for the trouble. I’m here to take Theo home.” My gaze shifted past him to my son. “Theo, go get your backpack. We’re going home,” I said, bending down to urge him. Theo looked reluctant, glancing back and forth between me and Chace. He clearly wasn’t done playing. I grabbed his little arm, my face hardening. “Theo, be a good boy and come home with Mommy. It’s not nice to bother people.” “But Mommy, you said if we’re in trouble, we should find a police officer. He’s not people,” he said, then looked up at Chace and smiled. My patience was wearing thin. I scooped him up in my arms. “Let’s go!” Theo immediately started to cry, reaching for Chace. “I don’t wanna go! I wanna play with the officer…” he wailed, just like he had at the preschool gate. The sound echoed through the hallway, making my ears ring. Chace grabbed my arm, his face grim. “Don’t make him cry. Give him to me, I’ll calm him down.” A fire ignited in my chest. “I’m his mother. I don’t need you to teach me how to raise my child!” My shout only made Theo cry harder. “Let go!” Chace’s expression grew even darker. His grip on my arm tightened. With a struggling son in my arms and his demanding father by my side, the situation was spiraling out of control. I could feel sweat trickling down my back. A few neighbors walked by with their groceries. “Oh, dear,” one of them said. “A little lovers’ quarrel, upsetting the child. Just take her inside and make up, dear.” 8 Before I could explain that he wasn’t my husband and we were not a “little couple,” the world tilted. Chace had swept both me and my son up into his arms and carried us inside. His strength was impressive, but I felt like I was sitting on pins and needles. Everything in the apartment was exactly as it had been four years ago. From the big things, like the sofa and table we’d bought online together, to the small things, like the ceramic rabbits from the night market and the stuffed animal he’d won for me playing darts—everything was in its original place. It was like time had rewound. Chace stood before me, hands on his hips, and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. It was still cut short, stiff and a little severe. “We need to talk about this from the beginning,” he said, watching my expression carefully. “That day at the preschool, Theo saw me and ran right into my arms. Chloe was there too, but he wouldn’t go with her, so I brought him home for a few days… I’m on vacation, anyway.” He was explaining, but I found the whole thing ridiculous. I smirked. “What are you smiling at?” he asked, frowning. “Nothing.” I didn’t want to say it. How could he come up with such a lame excuse? Instead of spending his vacation with his wife and child, he was babysitting mine for free? Wasn’t his wife jealous? “Are you hiding something from me?” Chace blocked my path, his gaze darting between me and Theo. I froze. My worst fear was coming true. I was going to kill Chloe when I got my hands on her. “I think that’s my line,” I retorted, referring to the little girl, Amy. If he was married, he should act like it, and stop playing these games. Chace’s eyes dropped, like a student caught cheating. “I want to talk to you. Just the two of us. A real conversation,” he said, his voice almost pleading. “There’s no need. You two live your lives, and don’t bother me and my son. We’ll be fine,” I said, getting up to leave. Chace frowned, a look of confusion on his face. I snorted internally. Men. Always wanting what they can’t have. Chloe had once told me that once a woman sleeps with a man, he subconsciously considers her his. Chace was clearly suffering from a case of that delusion. Get a grip! I was my own person. He was his. And more importantly, he was married. I had no interest in being a homewrecker. I picked up Theo and left without a second thought. The sound of the door closing behind me felt like it was finally severing the last ties of those four years. Chace watched us go, looking dejected. His lips moved, but I couldn’t hear what he said. Back home, I asked Theo about his time there. He excitedly told me about all the games he played and the food he ate at the officer’s house, and that his godmother had visited him. The mention of Chloe reignited my anger. I called her. She was on a business trip in some far-off country. I yelled at her for a solid twenty minutes before she even mentioned she was abroad. I was so mad I started crying, which only made me madder when I realized I was ruining my expensive makeup. How many freelance gigs would it take to replace that? “Mommy, why are you crying?” Theo came over with his favorite Super Wings toy and wiped my tears with his chubby little hand. I sniffled and pulled him into a hug. If it weren’t for this little guy, would I be working myself to the bone like this? Sometimes I thought about finding a man and settling down. But who could guarantee that marriage would make life easier? It would just be a different set of problems. Besides, my first love had set the bar too high. After Chace, no one else seemed to measure up. It was my own mess to clean up. I just had to suck it up and deal with it.

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