Category: English

Sprawled on the carpet, trying to catch my breath, a voice, high and childish like spilled milk, suddenly echoed in my mind. 【I’ve sacrificed way too much for Mommy to look pretty. Does anyone ever consider my feelings, being held by such a slob every day?】 I shot up, my eyes darting to my son, who was lying beside me, happily sucking on his fist. Just as I was about to dismiss it as a hallucination brought on by sheer exhaustion, the voice came again. 【What are you looking at? So annoying! If you weren’t halfway decent at taking care of me, I would’ve had Daddy kick you out ages ago!】 1. I pinched my arm, hard. The sharp sting of pain was proof: that voice was real. As I was trying to process what those words meant, the doorbell rang. A second later, my best friend, Serena, let herself in. Seeing her loaded down with shopping bags filled with baby supplies, I couldn’t help but sigh. “I told you we have everything, Serena. Stop wasting your money!” Serena dropped the bags and, with the ease of a frequent visitor, headed for the bathroom. “What’s wrong with spoiling my godson a little? Don’t get jealous, I got you some dessert, too!” The distraction was enough to temporarily push the strange incident to the back of my mind. I fished a slice of Black Forest cake from one of the bags. But as I settled onto the sofa, the voice returned. 【Mommy, come hold me! I miss your sweet smell!】 My hands froze over the dessert packaging. I watched as Serena emerged from the bathroom and walked briskly over to my son, scooping him into her arms. “Well, hello! Is my little Leo being a good boy today? Let your godmother get some cuddles!” After Serena nuzzled his little cheek, Leo giggled uncontrollably. And at the same time, I heard a contented sigh in my head. 【Mommy’s skin is so smooth! Ugh, if it wasn’t so much work for her, I’d want to be with her all day long!】 I didn’t understand why I was suddenly hearing these things. But the repeated cries of “Mommy,” clearly not directed at me, sparked a storm of questions. With this new context, I watched Serena and Leo together, and suddenly, things started to click into place in a way that made me feel sick. It seemed that every time Serena was here, Leo, who was usually a nightmare to soothe, would become an angel, all smiles and gurgles. Was it a coincidence? Or was my son, who couldn’t even control his own bladder yet, doing it on purpose? “You know, Serena,” I said, forcing a light, joking tone, “anyone who didn’t know better would think Leo was your son. He’s an absolute angel whenever you visit. If he were always this easy, I wouldn’t be such a wreck.” My eyes were locked on her, and I didn’t miss the flicker of pride that flashed in her eyes before she masked it. “Mia, don’t say that! I know raising a baby is hard, but think of all the joy and fulfillment Leo brings you, right?” The childish voice immediately chimed in with its own commentary. 【You’re the nanny my real mommy and daddy picked out! Know your place. It’s an honor for you to take care of me!】 Serena was too busy cooing at Leo to notice my face darken as I sank into a vortex of thought. I’d worked relentlessly through my pregnancy, and it had taken a toll. Leo was born premature and was a high-needs baby in every sense of the word. When he was uncomfortable, he had to be held constantly. The second you put him down, he’d start whimpering. A wet diaper had to be changed instantly; a moment’s delay and he’d launch into a full-blown meltdown, sometimes screaming himself into breath-holding fits that terrified me. Leo’s condition was so demanding that in my first three months postpartum, I’d bled through three different maternity nurses. Everyone told me it was my fault, that I hadn’t been careful enough during my pregnancy, causing him to suffer so much. I was drowning in guilt, and after his three-month milestone, I made a life-altering decision. I threw my career plans out the window, resigned from my job, and became a full-time mom. Leo was eight months old now. Even with a nanny to help, I was physically and mentally drained. In less than half a year of motherhood, I felt like I’d aged a decade. I had no energy to lose the baby weight, no motivation to put on makeup or fix my hair. Philip, my husband, saw it too. Other than perfunctory questions about Leo, he barely spoke to me anymore. I was resentful and hurt, but I was too exhausted to even start a fight. Five months of all-consuming childcare had pushed my marriage to the brink and my body to its breaking point. And now, I was hearing that Leo might not even be my son? If he wasn’t… then where was my baby? What was all this suffering, all this sacrifice, for? 2. My fingers traced the crinkly plastic of the cake box, a storm of emotions churning inside me. Twenty minutes ago, Serena was the person I was most grateful for in my lonely postpartum world. If it weren’t for her visits every few days, helping with the baby and listening to my endless complaints, I probably would have shattered long ago. But the child I was pouring my life into was calling her Mommy? It was too absurd. I let out a brittle laugh. “What’s so funny? Share the joke!” Serena looked up, her eyes sparkling with amusement. Our gazes met. This time, armed with suspicion, I really looked at her, and I froze. I’d always known Serena was attractive, but now… now she had a certain glow. A ripeness. I remembered her telling me she was away at a training seminar for most of my pregnancy. I remembered that when she finally reappeared after Leo was three months old, she was fuller, softer than I’d ever seen her. As much as I didn’t want to believe it, the answer was screaming at me. For a moment, the world tilted, and I felt like I couldn’t stay upright. “Hey, you okay? Spacing out again? Don’t tell me the baby brain is permanent.” Serena casually placed Leo on the playmat on the floor. My eyes followed him, and I held my breath, waiting for the inevitable screaming to start. Instead, Leo started playing by himself, content. It was a universe away from his usual behavior, where being put down meant at least ten minutes of solid wailing. A wave of helplessness washed over me. The difference in his treatment of us was so blatant. How had I never seen it before? “Mia? What’s wrong? I’ve been talking to you for ages.” I couldn’t let her know I was onto her. Not yet. I had too many questions. I mumbled an excuse about being sleep-deprived and changed the subject, asking Serena if she was free tomorrow. “Anything you need help with, you know you can just ask!” she said, feigning a pout. I forced a grateful, apologetic smile. “It’s just… my heart’s been feeling a little weird lately. I want to get it checked out. If you have time, could you watch Leo for me? I don’t feel comfortable leaving him alone with the nanny.” I was eighty percent sure, but I needed absolute proof before I decided what to do next. Until then, I couldn’t completely let go of Leo. So if I was going out, I needed a babysitter. My parents were out of town on vacation. My in-laws, who subtly blamed me for Leo’s health issues, were a source of constant friction. We avoided each other unless Philip was around. If Serena really was Leo’s mother, then she was, ironically, the best person for the job. Thankfully, she agreed without a second thought. I’d read online about what was needed for a DNA test. As we chatted, my mind raced, trying to figure out how to get a sample from her. Suddenly, I remembered a pair of diamond hair clips she’d admired several times. Serena watched, confused, as I got up and went to my closet. When I returned with a small hand mirror, she raised an eyebrow. “What are you up to?” Without a word, I clipped one of the sparkling pins into her hair. Then I held up the mirror. “You always said you loved these. My hair’s falling out so much, I doubt I’ll ever get to wear them again. It’d be a waste for them to just sit in a box.” In the mirror, Serena’s face lit up. She touched the clip, a wide smile spreading across her face, though her words were modest. “Your hair will grow back! These are so expensive, Mia, I can’t take them.” “Oh, let me fix it, it’s not sitting right,” I said, and with a calculated tug, I pulled the clip out. “Ouch!” Serena yelped. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” I said, feigning horror. “Look at me, I’ve developed super-strength from carrying the baby all day! I think I pulled out a few strands. Don’t be mad!” I quickly plucked the hairs tangled in the clip’s teeth and tossed them into the nearby wastebasket. Serena just laughed, rubbing the sore spot on her head. “Why would I be mad? It’s just the price of beauty!” 3. Not long after Serena left, giddy with her five-figure hair clip, an exhausted Leo finally fell asleep. While the nanny was busy in the other room, I retrieved the hairs from the trash can. My tug must have been forceful enough; nearly every strand had a follicle attached. I sealed them in a small labeled bag. I then pulled out a few of my own hairs and put them in a separate bag. Leo’s hair was too fine to see the follicles clearly, so I decided to wait until he woke up. I’d clip his nails and put them in a bag along with a few strands of his hair. When Philip got home from work, I told him I needed to go to the hospital for a check-up. For the first time in months, he showed a sliver of concern. “If you’re really that tired, we can hire another nanny, or have our moms take turns helping. You can’t keep pushing yourself like this.” I took a sip of water to hide the bitter taste that rose in my chest. If I hadn’t spent my pre-motherhood years forging a will of iron at my old job, the last few months would have completely broken me. If it weren’t for the bizarre events of today, his sudden kindness might have moved me to tears. But now, all I could think about was Leo calling him “Daddy” and Serena “Mommy.” My heart felt like a block of ice. We’d been sleeping in separate rooms ever since Leo was born, so my sleepless nights wouldn’t disturb Philip’s rest and affect his work the next day. But because I’d mentioned my heart, he volunteered, for the first time ever, to have Leo sleep with him for the night. The next morning, a refreshed-looking Philip placed Leo in my arms. “This kid really knows how to behave. I told him he couldn’t be fussy last night, otherwise Daddy would be too tired for work, and he actually slept through the whole night!” I managed a weak smile and looked down at Leo, whose big eyes stared back at me. And then, the voice. 【Of course I’m gonna be good for my real dad. But you? The nanny? I’m going to make your life hell! It’s all your fault Mommy can’t live with us!】 Before the nanny could clean the guest room, I searched every inch of the bed Philip had slept in, finding what I needed. Serena arrived early. After giving her a few instructions, I walked out of the apartment alone. Breathing in the fresh air, I felt a wave of dizziness. I was almost in a trance. How long had it been since I’d really looked at the sky? How long since I’d felt the sun on my skin? All I did was have a baby. How did I lose control of my entire life? I had a friend who worked at a DNA testing lab. I paid extra for a rush job. He’d probably seen situations like mine a thousand times, because he didn’t ask a single question, just took the samples and personally oversaw the process. He told me the earliest I could get the results was tomorrow. With that, I went to the hospital. My heart really was giving me trouble. For months, the longest stretch of sleep I’d gotten was less than three hours. I was a wreck of anxiety and exhaustion, my hair falling out in clumps. My days started with a baby’s cry, and my dreams were filled with his incessant wails. I couldn’t even imagine what state I’d be in if I didn’t have a nanny to handle the housework and lend a hand when I was overwhelmed. “Your cardiac ischemia is quite severe,” the doctor said, his expression grave. “You need to fix your sleep schedule immediately. If you let this continue, you’re at high risk for sudden cardiac arrest.” When I got home, Serena was on the couch, holding Leo as they watched TV. When I repeated the doctor’s warning, she fell silent for a long time. “Mia, you have to hire more help. I’ll come over more often, too. You can’t keep going on like this.” 4. When Philip came home, he stared at my diagnosis report for a long time. Before bed, I overheard him making a call to his mother. The next morning, my in-laws were at the door with suitcases. Philip, who hadn’t left for work yet, spent a while explaining things to them. After he left, my mother-in-law, for once, didn’t give me the cold shoulder. “Mia, why don’t you go get some more sleep? Your father and I have it handled for the month. If you think we’re doing okay, we can keep helping. If not, we can trade off with your parents. We’ll all learn together. We won’t let you carry this all by yourself again.” That morning, just as he did with Serena, Leo put on his best behavior for his grandparents. While I caught up on sleep, he only cried once. A world of difference from when I was alone with him. On my way to the bathroom, I overheard my in-laws talking in the study. “Our grandson isn’t nearly as difficult as Mia makes him out to be,” my mother-in-law whispered. “Do you think maybe she’s just not good at this? That she’s run herself ragged for no reason?” My father-in-law shushed her, telling her to just focus on helping. But she wasn’t done. “And that doctor’s report… is it even real? You don’t think she’s fooling our son, do you? It’s one thing for Mia to be ambitious, but if she’s pulling a stunt like this just to get back to work, I won’t let her get away with it!” I slipped back into my room and picked up my phone, my fingers hovering over the screen, about to ask my friend for an update. Just then, a message from him popped up with a link. 【Mia, the baby isn’t yours. But he is biologically related to the other two samples.】 The phone felt like a block of ice in my hand. The heart that had been suspended in anxiety for the past twenty-four hours plummeted into a black abyss. My hands trembled as I clicked the link. I read the conclusions of the three reports over and over and over again. The names on the sample bags were in my own handwriting. And my friend was meticulous; with him watching over the process, there was zero chance of a mix-up. So it was true. The man I had loved for years and the woman I had grown up with, my best friend, had betrayed me in the most intimate way possible. And I, like an idiot, had given up my promising career, sacrificed my health, and poured every ounce of my being into raising their child. Then where was my baby? During the months I spent in a sleep-deprived haze caring for Leo, was my child warm? Was my child fed? My child. Was she even alive? When you’re hit with the purest form of sorrow, you can’t even make a sound. I pounded on my chest, trying to force air into my lungs, as tears fell, hot and silent, onto my shirt. After nearly half an hour of suffocating grief, I started making calls. First to a few of my most trusted friends. Then, I called the police. When I finally emerged from my room, my eyes were swollen and red. My mother-in-law started to say something but stopped when she saw my face. She shot a look at my father-in-law, then sat next to me, bouncing Leo on her knee. “Mia, look how good Leo’s been all morning. Here, you hold him.” The moment my eyes met Leo’s, his smug little voice filled my head. 【You hold me, I dare you. I’ll scream my head off. I love watching you panic!】 I ignored him, staring blankly into the middle distance as if I hadn’t heard a thing. My friends arrived quickly. My in-laws, though confused by the sudden crowd, bustled around, offering everyone water. But their hospitality vanished when the next person to walk through the door was Philip, who should have been at the office. My mother-in-law’s face soured. “Mia, what is so important that you had to drag Philip out of work?” As she was complaining, the doorbell rang again. This time, it was the police. My friends remained calm, but my in-laws and Philip all wore varying expressions of shock and alarm. “First you call all your friends, and now the police? What the hell are you doing, Mia?” Philip’s voice was low and furious. I finally looked at him, and my own voice came out, each word a shard of ice. “Where is my child? The baby I gave birth to. What did you do with her?”

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I came home with the breakthrough technology that would save my husband’s company, ready to give him the surprise of his life. The first surprise, however, was mine. Splashed across every screen in the airport was the breaking news: Larry Armitage, my husband, returning to our ‘love nest’ with another woman. At first, I brushed it off. Women had been throwing themselves at him for years, and he’d always dealt with them before I even had to lift a finger. But when I arrived at the gala he was hosting at our estate, the smart gate scanned my face and chimed with a cold, robotic voice: “Permission insufficient. Access denied.” I used my backup key, only to be met with the shriek of a high-decibel security alarm. And then, stepping out of the grand entrance, was the woman he’d told me was dead. His first love. She was wearing my wedding ring. Isla Hayes looked me up and down with a sneer of pure contempt. “This party is for people who can make the whole city shake with a single phone call. And what are you supposed to be?” she scoffed. “Get lost, before I call the cops.” Her smug, triumphant expression was so infuriating I had to laugh. “Get Larry Armitage out here right now,” I snapped. “I want an explanation. Since when does he let any and every piece of trash into our home?” 1 “A lunatic, raving at the gate? Are the security guards dead?” Isla gave me a strange look, and the assistant hovering behind her immediately started barking at me. “Who the hell do you think you are, using Mr. Armitage’s name like that?” Isla crossed her arms, her eyes flicking to the employee ID card still clipped to my jacket. “Just some low-level drone. Call HR. Have her fired.” Fired? Isla clearly had no idea that I was the primary investor in the entire Armitage Corporation. I’d never wanted to work at such a small company in the first place, but Larry had begged me for three months straight, whining that his heart ached every second we were apart. I’d only relented to put his mind at ease. And now his mistress was standing on my doorstep, trying to have me fired from my own company. I strode past her, heading for the security intercom to confront Larry myself. The fingerprint scanner glowed green, and a moment later, Larry’s face appeared on the screen. He was holding a champagne flute, schmoozing with a circle of business elites. “Hey, what’s wrong? Forget the passcode again?” he chuckled, his voice dripping with affection. “My little scatterbrain. Honestly, you’re so hopeless sometimes. I’ll have my assistant come get you in a minute. Mom’s waiting for you to come chat with her.” His tender tone stopped me cold. He had no idea I was back in the country. Seeing her chance, Isla shoved me aside, pressing her face to the camera and cooing, “Honey, just tell your mom to wait a little longer for me. I’ll be right there.” Mom? Could it be? Was his mother—the woman who’d always looked down on me, who treated me with nothing but thinly veiled contempt—in on this too? The moment he heard Isla’s voice, Larry’s gaze softened, his expression melting into a look of pure adoration that made my stomach churn. “Larry Armitage,” I snarled, my voice raw. “Get your ass out here right now!” He frowned. “Who’s that?” Isla shot me a venomous glare. “Just some beggar. I’m about to get rid of her.” Larry’s face hardened. “The guests tonight are the most important people in this city. Don’t let a piece of trash like that ruin everything.” The man who’d clung to me at the airport just before I left, his eyes red as he told me how much he’d miss me, now couldn’t even recognize my voice. Fury surged through me. I shoved my face in front of the camera. “Larry, look at me! It’s me! I guess you don’t want the core technology after all, do you!” Before the words were even out of my mouth, Isla’s assistant grabbed me by the hair and slammed me to the ground. Isla strode over and slapped me hard across the face. The diamond on my wedding ring—the one now on her finger—sliced my forehead open. Blood streamed down my face. Larry glanced coldly at my bloody, unrecognizable face. He didn’t even register who I was. “Get rid of her,” he said, his voice flat. “The company is at a critical turning point. I don’t need distractions like this.” Then he cut the feed. The silence that followed was deafening. My heart turned to ice. When his company’s technology was failing, he’d been so consumed with worry he couldn’t sleep for nights on end. So I personally led a team overseas, pouring three years of my life, my health, my very blood, into developing a solution. I had come home to give him a wonderful surprise. I never imagined he’d have an even bigger one waiting for me. It seemed that while I was in the lab, suffering from radiation exposure, vomiting blood and in and out of the hospital, he was busy rekindling an old flame. If that’s how it was, then whether his company survived or not had nothing to do with me anymore. I turned to leave, but Isla blocked my path. “Made your scene and now you want to just walk away? What about our family’s reputation?” She nodded at her assistant, who grabbed my shoulders and forced me to my knees. I had never been so humiliated in my entire life. My parents’ empire was based overseas, but our connections and resources in this country were second to none. It was the only reason Larry Armitage had gone from a complete nobody to one of the city’s most powerful figures overnight. Furious, I pulled out my phone and dialed the police. Isla just watched me, a smug, unbothered smile on her face. “Go ahead. Call whoever you want. Even if you called the president himself, I wouldn’t be scared.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Even if I killed you right here, in front of everyone, he wouldn’t dare do a thing to me. You should know who runs this city, shouldn’t you?” Soon, two police cruisers, lights flashing, screamed up to the gate. “Alright, break it up! What’s going on here!” I recognized the officer in charge. My own uncle had personally promoted him. Isla’s smugness was practically radiating off her. I raised an eyebrow, a cold fury settling in my gut. If Larry was going to play this game, I had no problem slapping him in the face in front of the entire city. I struggled to my feet. “Isla Hayes, for assault and battery. I don’t want compensation. I want her to rot in a cell—” Before I could finish, the officer walked right past me and addressed Isla with a fawning deference. “Mrs. Armitage. Are you alright?” I couldn’t believe it. I’d had dinner with this man just before I left the country. How could he turn on me so completely? Isla’s lips curved into a triumphant smirk. “I’m fine. Just some trash causing trouble.” The officer’s face hardened as he turned to me. I stared at him, my expression blank. “Have you forgotten who my uncle is?” A flicker of fear crossed his eyes, but he quickly covered it with a blustering arrogance. “Disturbing the peace in a public place. We’re taking you in. Let’s see how tough you are then.” It all clicked into place. While I was away, the entire city had accepted Isla Hayes as the new Mrs. Armitage. A humorless smile touched my lips. “Fine. Then you can get ready to turn in your badge.” He swallowed hard, panic flashing across his face. Isla’s assistant spat on the ground. “Crazy bitch! Threatening a police officer! Take her away! Mr. Armitage himself gave the order!” I ignored him, my eyes locked on the officer. “Are you sure you want to do this to me—” Before I could finish, he drew his stun baton and slammed it into my stomach. The fear in his eyes was replaced by a brutal resolve. “I don’t care who you are! In this city, what Mr. Armitage says, goes! Let’s see how long that tough mouth of yours lasts down at the station!” It felt like my organs had been rearranged. Agony ripped through me, and a cold sweat beaded on my forehead. At his signal, the other officers closed in. I clutched my stomach, my voice like ice. “I am Larry Armitage’s wife. I dare you to touch me. Do you have a death wish?” The other officers froze, hesitating. Isla spat. She brought the heel of her stiletto down on my hand, grinding it into the pavement. “So that’s it. You’re trying to seduce my husband! You shameless whore. Today, I’ll make an example of you for any other little trollop with ideas.” She pressed down, and the sharp heel bored a bleeding hole in my palm. I bit back a scream. Still not satisfied, she snatched the baton from the officer and brought it down hard on my head. Blood gushed, blurring my vision. As I thrashed on the ground, the USB drive containing the core technology tumbled from my pocket. I instinctively reached for it, but Isla was faster. Seeing the amount of blood, the lead officer grew nervous. “Ma’am, let’s not take this too far. Let me just take her in.” Isla shoved him away. Her assistant puffed out his chest. “Take it too far? Armitage Corporation has enough money to buy a dozen lives like hers! Didn’t you hear? Some guy bumped into Ms. Hayes at a coffee shop last week, and Mr. Armitage had his hands broken!” Isla grabbed my chin, her nails digging into my flesh. “His wife couldn’t even compete with me. And you think you have a chance climbing into his bed?” My blood ran cold. “You know his wife?” Her eyes gleamed with victory. “Just some useless, washed-up hag. She ran off to another country with her tail between her legs, didn’t she?” So Larry had never told her the real reason I was gone. Before I could speak, Isla addressed the growing crowd of onlookers. “Whoever gives this bitch the beating she deserves gets ten million dollars!” That was all it took. The police stepped back, and the crowd surged forward, shouting obscenities. “We hate sluts like you who throw themselves at married men!” “You’re not leaving here until you bow down to Ms. Hayes a hundred times!” Someone stepped on my shoulders, forcing my face into the dirt again and again. Another person grabbed my arm, trying to break my fingers. I gritted my teeth, my voice shaking with rage. “Isla, the data on that drive is the core technology Larry needs. I suggest you let me go. Or he will never forgive you!” Isla picked up the drive, examining it. “Core technology?” She paused, then laughed dismissively. “One minute you’re his wife, the next you’re an employee. Do you even believe your own lies?” With that, she dropped the drive and crushed it under her heel. “Let’s just see how he never forgives me.” Her assistant then unleashed a volley of slaps, so many I lost count. The taste of blood filled my mouth. My face swelled until it was unrecognizable. Isla smiled, the victor. She turned to the crowd, her voice a sharp warning. “This is what happens to any delusional fool who thinks she can climb into Larry Armitage’s bed! If I find anyone else trying to seduce my man, they’ll end up far worse than her!”

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I dumped Ethan Thorne the year he was at his poorest. The next time we met, I was unemployed, and he was the CEO, personally sitting in on my final-round interview. When he saw my name on the applicant list, a smirk curled his lip. He decided to humiliate me in front of everyone. “Apologies,” he said, his voice cutting through the quiet room. “This company has a strict policy against hiring opportunistic, morally bankrupt people. There are no pathetic men here for you to manipulate.” My hand moved before my brain could catch up. The sharp crack of my palm against his cheek echoed in the stunned silence. Ethan Thorne, the man on the cover of Forbes, slumped in his chair and passed out cold. In the emergency room, his assistant—a woman who looked unnervingly like a younger, softer version of me—was sobbing, her voice thick with accusation. “You bitch! Don’t you know Mr. Thorne can’t stand being touched by women? He has a severe psychosomatic aversion! I’m the only exception. You need some self-respect. Stop throwing yourself at every man you see! And that face… you had surgery to look like me, didn’t you?” A laugh almost escaped my lips. Instead, I leaned over Ethan’s “unconscious” form on the hospital bed. “If you play dead for one more second,” I whispered into his ear, “I’m going to tell everyone you have acute touch starvation, and that you didn’t pass out from the slap. You passed out from pleasure.” In the next instant, as if struck by lightning, Ethan shot upright. A pained, murderous smile stretched across his face. “The interview was a success,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “You start tomorrow.” 1 I never expected to see Ethan again, and certainly not like this. He was the center of gravity in the interview room, the CEO presiding over a panel of nervous executives. He watched me walk in, a cool, appraising look in his eyes that was worlds away from the boy I once knew. When our gazes met, he registered the shock on my face before dismissing me as if I were a stranger, his attention drifting to the window. The Ethan of my memory wore faded band t-shirts and worn-out sneakers, his smile shy and warm. The man before me was encased in a bespoke suit, a fortress of cool confidence and imposing success. He was a different person, sculpted from ambition and ice. When exes run into each other, the one whose life is in shambles is the one who feels the burn of embarrassment. Today, that was me. I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole. His suit probably cost more than my entire net worth. My outfit, from head to toe, was under forty dollars. The finality with which I had once cut him out of my life was now matched only by the crushing weight of my regret. If I’d had any idea he owned this company, I would have sooner starved than walk through these doors. There were five of us in the group interview. I was last in line. When my turn came to introduce myself, Ethan didn’t even bother to look up from the file he was pretending to read. His indifference was a physical force, a heat lamp scorching my skin. I couldn’t see his expression, but I could feel his contempt. After the last candidate finished, Ethan’s female assistant leaned in and whispered, “Mr. Thorne, if you have no further questions for this group, I’ll show them out?” It was a polite dismissal. The other four candidates wore masks of disappointment. I, on the other hand, felt a wave of relief so profound I almost sagged. I couldn’t wait to get out of there. But then Ethan spoke. “Wait.” He lifted his head, and his eyes—dark, unreadable pools of judgment—locked directly onto mine. In the space of a few seconds, I saw a storm of emotions flicker across his face: disgust, mockery, disdain. “Everyone else can proceed to the second round,” he announced, his voice flat and cold. “Everyone except… Ava Chen.” 2 The air in the room shifted. Every eye turned to me. I could feel the heat of their collective gaze, a mixture of pity and morbid curiosity. The other interviewers looked just as surprised; this was the first time their boss had ever been so merciless, so publicly dismissive of a candidate. Only Ethan’s assistant, after a quick, assessing glance at my face, allowed a small, knowing smile to touch her lips. Her eyes held a flicker of contempt. My own mortification began to curdle into a hot, simmering anger. My resume, my academic credentials—they weren’t the worst in this group. Not by a long shot. To single me out like this, in front of everyone… no one would believe it wasn’t personal. I could live with not working here, but I couldn’t swallow this insult. Ethan had clearly forgotten the kind of temper I had. It had been a while. I forced a tight, bright smile onto my face. “Excuse me, sir,” I said, my voice dangerously sweet. “You said I’m not qualified. May I ask for a reasonable explanation?” He didn’t hesitate. He picked up my resume, crumpled it into a ball, and tossed it into the wastebasket beside his desk with a theatrical flick of his wrist. He let out a short, sharp laugh. “Apologies,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “This company has a strict policy against hiring opportunistic, morally bankrupt people. I can’t have that kind of filth tainting the workplace. Besides, there are no pathetic men here for you to manipulate. You can take a left out the door. I hear Marcus Thorne—you know, the real estate tycoon, freshly divorced from wife number four—is always looking for… company.” A collective gasp rippled through the room. Some of the other candidates stifled snickers, their whispers just loud enough to hear. “Damn. All that for an Ivy League degree? Gives the school a bad name. Guess you can’t judge a book by its cover. Some women will do anything for a buck.” “Serves her right for trying to sleep her way to the top. I bet her whole resume is fake.” “She’s not even that pretty. Probably all plastic. And she has the nerve to question the CEO? The audacity is almost funny. Pathetic.” … With every muttered insult, I kept my eyes locked on Ethan. And with every insult, a dark, triumphant glint in his eyes grew brighter. This was his victory lap. All the years of grinding, of building this empire—it was all for this single moment. To stand on his mountain and watch me burn. I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction. If I was going down, he was coming with me. Under the shocked stares of everyone in the room, I strode forward. I walked right up to his expensive desk, raised my hand, and brought it down across his face with all the force I could muster. The room erupted in a symphony of shrieks and gasps. Ethan tumbled sideways out of his ergonomic chair, hitting the plush carpet with a dull thud. He was out cold. His face, where my hand had connected, was already turning a violent shade of red. The assistant rushed to his side, cradling his head in her lap. “You bitch!” she screamed, her voice cracking with fury. “Who the hell do you think you are? You’re finished! If anything happens to Mr. Thorne, I’ll make sure you rot in jail!” She then rounded on the other executives, who were frozen in place. “What are you all staring at? Call an ambulance, you useless idiots!” The berated employees, though clearly taken aback by her tone, fumbled for their phones and did as they were told. An assistant didn’t technically outrank them, but she wore the mantle of the boss’s chosen one like a second skin. They weren’t about to argue. This time, I didn’t say a word. I was too busy studying the assistant’s face. This woman… why did she look so much like me? 3 Because I was the one who threw the punch, I had to accompany them to the hospital. In the emergency room, I stood against the wall with a few other shell-shocked employees, feeling like a misbehaving child outside the principal’s office. The only one moving was the assistant. She sat by Ethan’s bedside, clutching his hand, her tears falling onto the crisp white sheets. You would think he was on his deathbed. One of the managers tried to reason with her. “Chloe, the doctor said Mr. Thorne is fine. He just needs to rest. I’ve already called his housekeeper; someone will be here soon. Maybe we should head back to the office? There’s still a long line of candidates waiting.” Chloe wiped her eyes and shot the man a venomous glare. “Mr. Thorne is in this state, and all you can think about is work? Do you have a heart? If it weren’t for his generosity, you’d all be out on the street begging for a job, just like her!” The employees, who had earned their positions through skill and hard work, looked bewildered. I, the collateral damage in her tirade, was even more confused. How did looking for a job equate to begging? No one dared to challenge her, so Chloe redirected the full force of her fury back to me. “What’s that look on your face? Am I wrong? I saw the gaps in your resume. Who knows what sordid things you were doing during that time. You did this to him! Don’t you feel any guilt at all?” I asked, genuinely curious, “Did what, exactly? Is he dying?” Because if he was, I needed to go buy some fireworks. A single slap that could kill a man—that was a skill worth marketing. I could start a masterclass in the Iron Palm technique. “Aah! Shut up!” she shrieked. “If you curse him again, I’ll make sure you never find work in this city! I’ll personally call every company and blacklist you!” I nodded slowly. “Wow. For an assistant, you have a lot of power.” My calm, dismissive tone sent her into a fresh rage. She shot to her feet, her face a mask of tragic, tear-stained sorrow. “Do you want to know why the doctors can’t find anything wrong with him? I’ll tell you. Mr. Thorne has a rare condition. A severe psychosomatic aversion. He can’t be touched by any woman! I am the only one who can get close to him. I am his only exception! So do yourself a favor and get some self-respect. Stop throwing yourself at men with these cheap, pathetic tricks!” Her eyes raked over my face, a mixture of contempt and smug satisfaction in her expression. “And I know you’re aware of how special I am to him. It’s obvious. You had your face surgically altered to look like mine. But it’s a pathetic imitation. A knock-off can never be the original. You’re not even in the same league.” I almost lunged at her. Excuse me? This face is one hundred percent natural, thank you very much. I was with her boss back when she was probably still in high school learning her multiplication tables. She thought she knew Ethan so well? Funny. I knew him better. On the way in, I’d cornered a doctor who confirmed my suspicions. Ethan’s fainting spell had nothing to do with physical trauma. It was, he’d said, likely the result of some kind of intense psychological shock. Even the doctor couldn’t pinpoint what it was. But I knew. In the entire world, I was probably the only one who did. A cold smile touched my lips. Ignoring Chloe’s frantic protests, I leaned over Ethan’s “unconscious” form. “If you play dead for one more second,” I whispered, my voice a low, menacing hum in his ear, “I’m going to tell everyone you have acute touch starvation, and that you didn’t pass out from the slap. You passed out from pleasure.” A medical miracle occurred. The man who had been utterly unresponsive, practically a corpse, suddenly shot upright on the gurney. He looked like a zombie rising from the grave, startling everyone in the room into a stunned, awkward silence. After a moment that stretched for an eternity, Ethan slowly turned his head. He fixed his gaze on me, a pained, murderous smile stretching his lips. “The interview was a success,” he said, each word a carefully ground-out threat. “You start tomorrow.” 4 And just like that, with one sentence, the overbearing CEO had hired me. A true medical marvel. Under Chloe’s gaze of pure, unadulterated disbelief, I officially became an employee of Thorne Industries. To be honest, aside from the excruciatingly awkward fact that the CEO was my ex-boyfriend, I was more than happy with the company. It was thriving, the boss was generous and hands-off, the pay was excellent, and overtime was non-existent. The hours were nine-to-five with weekends off, catered lunches were prepared by a five-star chef, and there was no clocking in. Ethan was the classic example of someone who’d been drenched in the rain and now wanted to hold an umbrella for others. He was a bastard of an ex, but a damn good boss. News of “The Slap,” as it came to be known, had somehow leaked. When I showed up for my first day, I was met with a barrage of curious stares. It made sense. The woman who sent the CEO to the hospital and still got the job? I’d be curious too. But once they saw my face, the curiosity melted into something else—a shared, knowing look of disdain. The rumors started spreading like wildfire through the company’s Slack channels. CEO Thorne is secretly in love with his assistant, Chloe. Hiring the doppelgänger is proof. No, the new girl got plastic surgery to look like Chloe on purpose. The slap was just a crazy stunt to get his attention. Within three days, I was completely ostracized. I worked alone, ate lunch alone, and was never invited to after-work drinks. I didn’t mind in the slightest. The peace and quiet was a welcome change. Thanks to Ethan’s leadership, the company culture was refreshingly professional and free of petty drama. As long as I did my job well, most people left me alone. There was just one problem. I felt a muscle twitch in my jaw. In the faint reflection on my desktop monitor, I could see him again—a dark, brooding figure lurking just outside the glass wall of my department. The first time I saw Ethan standing in the corner of my periphery, watching me, I almost jumped out of my skin. He looked like a ghost haunting the halls. After a few days, I was starting to get used to it. When the guy from the next cubicle came over to ask a question, I ignored the specter in the hallway and focused on my work. It wasn’t until I was in the breakroom, agreeing to go to a team dinner that night, that Ethan finally emerged from the shadows. He stood in the doorway, his dark eyes fixed on me, saying nothing. I pretended not to know him and tried to walk past. He stepped into my path, his face a thundercloud. “Ava,” he said, his voice low and tight. “Is it so hard to greet your boss when you see him? Have you forgotten basic manners?” I feigned surprise. “Oh! Mr. Thorne. I’m so sorry, I didn’t recognize you. It’s been a while, you know? Well, I’ll let you get back to it. If there’s nothing else, I should probably—” I tried to squeeze past him, but he shot out a hand and grabbed my wrist. The contact was electric. A split second later, he recoiled as if he’d been burned, snatching his hand back. His ears turned a deep, tell-tale shade of crimson. I glanced at his trembling fingers. It had been years, but his condition, far from getting better, had clearly gotten worse. 5 His hand might have been shaking, but his tongue was as sharp as ever. “You work fast, Ava,” he sneered. “Barely here a week and you’ve already sunk your claws into someone. Don’t waste your time. I had HR pull his file. His parents are middle-class government employees. No trust fund, no family money. He doesn’t meet your… requirements. I’d find a new target if I were you.” It was hard to reconcile this man, spitting such casual, venomous words, with the boy I once knew—the one who would get so nervous around me he’d sometimes stutter. I laughed, a cold, sharp sound. “Oh? And who do you suggest I target next?” A muscle jumped in his jaw. He didn’t answer. I shoved past him and left the breakroom, nearly colliding with Chloe, who was on her way to find him. She shot me a dirty look before rushing past me into the room. Her anxious voice drifted out into the hall. “Mr. Thorne, are you alright? You look like you’re about to fall! Can you stand? God, what did that woman do to you this time? What? Shh? What do you mean, ‘shh’?” … My deskmate’s name was Leo. After work, I joined him and a few other colleagues for dinner. I made a point of being open and friendly, showing no signs of resentment or sadness from being the office pariah. Over the course of the meal, I could feel their opinions of me shifting. They started to see that the person from the rumors didn’t match the person sitting in front of them. When they decided to head to a nearby bar afterward, they invited me along. After a few rounds of drinking games, my head started to spin. I slipped outside for some fresh air. The door opened behind me a moment later. It was Leo. He had a kind, boyish face and a gentle smile. He offered me a small bottle. “Here. I bought this on the way over. It’s one of those hangover cures. It’ll help.” I had a rule about not accepting drinks from people, so I politely declined. He wasn’t offended; in fact, his smile seemed to soften. He leaned against the brick wall next to me, sipping the drink himself. “Ava, maybe you should take it easy for the rest of the night,” he said. “Or, if you want, I could be your black knight and take some of the shots for you.” I smiled. “That’s sweet of you, Leo, thanks. But aren’t you a little young to be playing the hero?” He nearly choked on his drink, his face flushing a little. “Hey, I’m your senior colleague, technically. That means you should be calling me ‘sir,’ not pointing out my age.” I was about to tease him again when the door to the private room next to ours swung open. Ethan stepped out, and his eyes met mine. The music from inside was loud, so Leo hadn’t heard the door. He was still looking at me, his expression earnest. “So, Ava… you’re really beautiful. Do you have a boyfriend?” Ethan froze. A wicked little spark ignited in my chest. I hummed thoughtfully. “I do, actually. We’ve been together for a while.” I watched the light go out of Leo’s eyes. He looked like a puppy who’d just had its tail stepped on, and for a fleeting, painful moment, he reminded me so much of a younger Ethan. Back then, Ethan had been just as transparent, his every emotion written plainly on his face. “Then the rumors about you and Mr. Thorne—” “Oh, Mr. Thorne! What a coincidence! Fancy seeing you here,” I chirped, cutting Leo off before he could finish. I acted as if I’d just noticed Ethan standing there. Leo snapped back to reality, spinning around and nearly bowing. “Mr. Thorne! Good evening, sir.” Ethan’s tense expression softened slightly. He wasn’t going to take it out on the kid. “Leo,” he acknowledged with a nod. “Just wrapped up a client dinner.” Leo, ever polite, made a casual offer. “Well, since you’re here, would you like to join us for a bit?” Any normal boss would have politely declined. But Ethan Thorne was not a normal boss. “Alright,” he said, and without another word, he pushed open the door to our room and walked inside. The booming karaoke music inside our room screeched to a halt, replaced by a chorus of stunned, sober voices. “Good evening, Mr. Thorne!” 6 Chloe must have heard the commotion from next door. She appeared in the hallway a moment later, and when she saw me, her face soured. “What are you doing here?” she demanded. “Are you stalking Mr. Thorne? I’m warning you, Ava. One more stunt like this and I’m calling the police.” Leo, finally recovering from his shock, jumped to my defense. “You’ve got it all wrong, Chloe. A few of us from the office are just having a team dinner here. We ran into Mr. Thorne by chance. He’s in our room right now.” Chloe’s eyes darted between Leo and me, and a derisive smirk twisted her lips. “You’re really something, Ava. Not only did you manage to trick Mr. Thorne into joining you, but you’ve got a backup plan right here.” She gestured at Leo. “I have to wonder, could you even function without a face that looks like mine? You should really send a thank you card to your plastic surgeon for the life you have now.” She then turned her dismissive gaze on Leo. “And you,” she said, her voice dripping with condescension. “If you have a crush on me, just ask me out directly. What’s the point of cozying up to a cheap knock-off? Are you even a man? Don’t make me lose respect for you.” Before Leo could even sputter a protest, she pulled a business card from her purse, tucked it into the pocket of his shirt, shot me one last withering look, and swept into our private room. Leo stood there, completely dumbfounded. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. I patted his shoulder. “Go get her, tiger. Be a man.” “Ava!” he groaned, his face beet red. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop. Come on, we should probably see what kind of damage has been done.” We walked back into the room to find the once-lively atmosphere had become dead silent. Everyone was watching Ethan, who sat in the center of the sofa like a king holding court. The tension of having me, the “impostor,” in the same room as Chloe, the supposed “original,” was thick enough to cut with a knife. Seeing that we had finally returned, Ethan coolly averted his gaze and broke the suffocating silence. “Next song is for Ava,” he announced. “Someone who talks that much must be a decent singer.” Every head in the room swiveled in my direction. I smiled sweetly. “Oh, I think Mr. Thorne should sing. My singing voice isn’t nearly as good as my speaking voice. Unlike you, sir. I hear you’re great at both.” Their heads swiveled back to Ethan. His eyes were like chips of ice. “Are you refusing a direct order from your boss?” I blinked innocently. “Don’t be silly, Mr. Thorne. It’s after hours. There’s no boss, no employee. We’re all just friends here. Calling it an order seems so… formal.” A collective, silent gasp went through our colleagues. They were now looking at me with a newfound respect, bordering on awe. She slapped him at the interview and lived. She must have something on him. Blackmail. Definitely blackmail. They weren’t entirely wrong. I did hold Ethan’s life in my hands, in a way. He saw the unspoken threat in my eyes and finally backed down. Muttering something about needing the restroom, he escaped the room. Chloe, furious on his behalf, slammed her hand on the table and shot to her feet, pointing a trembling finger at me. “Ava! Don’t you push your luck! Mr. Thorne only tolerates you because of me! If you didn’t have my face, you wouldn’t have even made it past the front door of the company! You’re a spoiled, ungrateful bitch! A cheap copy! One day, everyone will see you for what you really are, and they’ll despise you. I don’t even understand why you exist!” Leo started to stand up, to say something, but I held up a hand to stop him. I looked at Chloe, my expression calm. “The reason I exist,” I said, my voice even, “is so that without me, you wouldn’t have a stage to perform this little monkey dance on.” “What did you just call me, you fake bitch!” I didn’t bother to reply. I turned and left the room, closing the door on her shrill voice. I was done. I didn’t want to drag my history with Ethan into the light for everyone to pick apart. This was it. I should have quit the day I was hired. I went to the restroom and splashed cold water on my face. The shock of it cleared my head. I checked the time. I’d go back, say my goodbyes, and head home. But as I walked past an empty private room, a hand shot out from the darkness and yanked me inside. The door slammed shut behind me. Before a scream could escape my throat, I was staring into the stormy, furious eyes of Ethan Thorne. His face was inches from mine, his hot breath ghosting across my skin. “You have a boyfriend, Ava?” 7 The fear that had seized me a moment ago instantly ignited into rage. The scream died in my throat, replaced by a torrent of angry words. “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you trying to give me a heart attack, grabbing me like that?” He ignored my outburst, his own breath coming in ragged bursts. “Do you really have a boyfriend?” he repeated, his voice raw. I frowned, trying to push him away. “That’s none of your business, Mr. Thorne. We’re not close. Please have some self-respect.” “Enough!” he roared, his control finally snapping. “I’m done playing this game where we pretend we don’t know each other! Just answer my damn question!” He slammed his fist against the wall behind me, the impact rattling the cheap art hanging there. His eyes were rimmed with red. He raised his other hand as if to grip my shoulders, but it froze in mid-air, clenching into a tight fist before falling back to his side. The air was thick with the unfamiliar scent of tobacco. Ethan never used to smoke. Staring into those deep, tormented eyes felt like drowning. I shoved him, hard, and broke his gaze. “You’re the one who started this, remember?” I shot back. “You have no right to act outraged now.” My heart was hammering against my ribs. I had a very bad feeling about where this was going. I turned and fumbled for the doorknob. “It’s getting late. I should—” A searing heat enveloped me from behind. A hard chest pressed against my back, and a large, warm hand covered mine on the doorknob, stilling my movement. He pushed the door, which I’d managed to pull open a few inches, firmly shut. Ethan was a full head taller than me, his frame completely eclipsing mine. He leaned down, resting his forehead on my shoulder. His voice, when he spoke, was a broken whisper. “If I begged you, would you stay?” I bit down on my lip, forcing the cruelty into my voice. “No. It would only make you seem pathetic and cheap.” The man behind me went still. The words were a low blow, aimed directly at the pride I knew he valued most. The most familiar people always know exactly where to strike to cause the most pain. A sharp, needle-like ache pierced my own chest, but I forced out a dismissive laugh, a final, bitter punctuation mark on a love story that had died before it even had a chance to be rekindled. Just when I thought he would finally push me away, finally see me as the enemy I was pretending to be, an arm snaked around my waist. He pulled me flush against him, holding me with a desperate, possessive tightness, as if I were a treasure he’d lost and just found again. I could feel the frantic, thunderous beating of his heart against my spine. “Don’t go,” he pleaded, his voice muffled in my hair. “I’m begging you.” My ears were ringing. Before I could process what was happening, he spun me around to face him. His pale skin was flushed a furious red, like a boiled lobster, and his eyes were hazy with a strange, unfocused desire. “Can I hold you?” he asked. My knees felt weak. If he wanted to hold me, why was he staring at my lips? “Ethan, you need to calm down. You’re having an episode.” The raw, predatory energy rolling off him was terrifying. I started backing away, step by step, until my back hit the cold, unyielding wall. “Hold me.” His voice was a hoarse rasp, no longer a question but a command. Experience told me that in these moments, the only safe option was to comply. Arguing would only make it worse, sending him spiraling out of control. I slowly raised my arms and wrapped them around his waist. After a moment’s hesitation, I rested my head against his chest. In the dim light, I could see the goosebumps rise on his arms, the fine hairs standing on end. It was the physical manifestation of his touch starvation being soothed. Suddenly, a voice came from the hallway, just on the other side of the door. It was Leo. “That’s weird. I thought Ava came to the restroom.” “I don’t know,” another colleague replied. “I didn’t see her. Maybe Chloe’s comments really got to her and she left? I mean, what she said was pretty harsh. I’d be upset too.” “Why is Chloe so against her anyway? Is she afraid Ava will steal Mr. Thorne? But Ava has a boyfriend, so it’s not like she’s a threat. Chloe’s making a big deal out of nothing.” “Huh? Ava has a boyfriend? She told me she was single just a few days ago. Leo, you must have heard wrong.” My eyes widened in horror. Shit. I’m busted. Before I could react, a hand cupped my chin, tilting my face upwards. A fierce, scorching kiss crashed down on mine. His tongue gently parted my lips, and our breaths tangled together in a rush of heat and desperation. His other hand moved to the nape of my neck, holding me in place, his fingers threading through my hair. The faint taste of whiskey mingled with something that was just… Ethan. His hand slipped under the hem of my shirt, his palm pressing flat against the bare skin of my waist. The heat of his touch was almost enough to burn me. On the other side of the wall, Leo was shyly confessing his crush to our coworkers. Inside the room, I was being kissed by Ethan until my thoughts dissolved and my senses swam.

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My best friend and I saved a billionaire’s son. His father asked us what we wanted as a reward. My friend held up one finger. The billionaire said, “Done. A million dollars for you.” Her jaw dropped. I knew she was thinking of a single dollar for a lollipop. Then, his gaze fell on me. I slowly raised one finger and shook my head. Before he could process that, I dropped to the ground and hugged his leg. “Dad!” He gently declined. So I pivoted, let go of the father, and wrapped my arms around the son I’d just saved. “Husband!” At the time, I was seven years old. The billionaire’s son was eight. 1 At seven years old, you’re basically a public nuisance. A feral little creature running on instinct and sugar. That was me, anyway. I’d just led my best friend, Chloe, through a gap I’d painstakingly widened in the chain-link fence behind St. Jude’s Home for Children. Our mission: the creek deep in the woods, where rumor had it the crawdads were massive. We didn’t find any crawdads. Instead, tucked away in a thicket of ferns, we found a boy. Maybe eight years old, passed out cold. He was wearing a little blazer, the kind of thing you see in magazines, fancier than anything the boys at the home owned. Now, though, it was smeared with mud and blood. Chloe and I put our shoulders into it, grunting and straining, but we couldn’t move him an inch. “Maya, is he… is he dead?” Chloe’s voice was a high-pitched wobble, tears already welling up. My name is Maya. The director at St. Jude’s, Mrs. Gable, gave it to me. She said it meant I was destined for great things. I hoped “great things” meant “lots of money.” I knelt down, mimicking a scene from one of the cheesy dramas our housekeeper, Maria, was always watching. I put my fingers under his nose. “Still breathing,” I announced. I stood, scanned our surroundings, and yanked a handful of broad-leafed weeds from the ground. I found a flat rock and smashed them into a green, pulpy mess, then slapped the whole concoction onto the gash on his forehead. “Master healer,” I said with a deadpan expression, meeting Chloe’s wide, worshipping eyes. I had no idea what those weeds were or what they did. All I knew was that in the shows, whenever the hero fell off a cliff, this is how they saved themselves. “You stay here with him. I’ll go get help.” I gave Chloe her orders, then tugged at my own faded t-shirt. I wished I had a flowing cape. If I had a cape, I’d look exactly like a superheroine, sprinting off to save the day. My superhero moment was unceremoniously crushed by Mrs. Gable’s hand connecting with the back of my head. I spent the whole way back to the woods sniffling, tears tracking paths through the dirt on my cheeks as I led the way. By the time we got there, Chloe, that little glutton, was long gone—probably lured away by the thought of dinner. The boy was still lying there alone, the poultice I’d made for him dried into a sad, flaky cracker on his forehead. Mrs. Gable hadn’t actually believed me. The color drained from her face when she saw him. She fumbled for her phone, calling 911, her voice trembling. The world dissolved into a dizzying symphony of sirens. The boy was lifted onto a stretcher and carried away. I was hauled to the local police station to give a statement. I’m loyal. I didn’t rat Chloe out. But she had no such qualms. The second she saw Mrs. Gable, she burst into tears and pointed a trembling finger at me. She told them how I’d dragged her through the fence, how it was my idea to hunt for crawdads, how I’d mashed up weird plants and put them on the boy. It had nothing to do with her. I lunged for her, my fingers curled into claws, but Mrs. Gable caught me by the scruff of my neck. When we got back to St. Jude’s, I found the gap in the fence sealed with a fresh patch of concrete. My adventures were now confined to the dusty yard. I was so mad at Chloe that I gave her the silent treatment for a whole week. She was too scared to even come near me. Then, one afternoon, a car with a tiny, gleaming silver angel on the hood pulled up to our gate. A Rolls-Royce. A man stepped out. The fabric of his suit shimmered, looking so expensive it probably cost more than our entire building. He radiated an aura of power, exactly like the billionaires in Maria’s dramas who were always saying things like, “Here’s a hundred million. Get out of my sight.” Trailing behind him was the boy. He looked nothing like the snot-nosed kids I usually fought with in the yard. His clothes were immaculate, his teeth were perfectly white and straight, and there wasn’t a single runny nose in sight. It was him. The boy from the woods. I was lazily swinging, hanging upside down, when Mrs. Gable marched them right over to me. “Maya, get down from there this instant!” Her voice was tight. I could see the impulse to grab me flicker in her eyes, but with important guests present, she reined it in. I saw my opening. No discipline today? My courage swelled. I scrambled upright on the wobbly swing seat, struck a flamingo-like pose on one leg, and, for dramatic effect, let go with one hand. That was the last straw. My death-defying act finally broke her. Distinguished guests or not, she yanked me down and gave me the scolding of a lifetime right there in the yard. I was still sniffling, hiccupping with tears, when she finally positioned me in front of them. “I am so sorry,” Mrs. Gable said, her cheeks flushed. “She’s… spirited.” The rich man just chuckled. “Don’t apologize. If it weren’t for her being so spirited, my son, Liam, might not have been found. A little wildness is a good thing.” Mrs. Gable managed a tight smile. “Well, your son is very lucky. Those woods are treacherous; even locals avoid them. Maya here…” Her hand twitched again as she pulled me closer, visibly fighting the urge to give me another shake. “Which is why we are so grateful,” the man continued. “In addition to the five-hundred-thousand-dollar donation we’re making to the home, we’d like to offer the children a personal reward. Something just for them.” Chloe must have heard the commotion because she suddenly appeared at my side. The man learned that she had been there too, and he smiled kindly at her. “Is there anything you’d like, sweetie?” She shyly held up one finger. The man sighed in relief. “Of course. One million dollars is yours.” Chloe’s jaw dropped. Her little brain was probably trying to calculate how many lollipops a million dollars could buy. A million dollars didn’t mean much to me either, but I knew it was a hell of a lot more than the single dollar she’d been about to ask for. Finally, the man’s gaze fell on me. I slowly raised one finger, then gave it a little wag, shaking my head. His brow furrowed slightly. As he was trying to calculate what my finger-wagging math might mean, I dropped to the ground, wrapped my arms around his leg, and shouted with all the force my little lungs could muster. “Dad!” The sound was sharp and clear, vibrating through the still afternoon air. The man froze, staring down at me. For the first time, the perfectly managed expression of a corporate titan cracked, revealing pure, unadulterated shock. Mrs. Gable squeezed the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes as if praying for strength. Behind his father, the boy—Liam—let out a quiet snort of laughter. The man recovered, offering a strained smile as he gently tried to pry me off. “I’m sorry, little one, but how about… how about five million dollars instead?” I slowly unwrapped my arms. Just as he breathed a sigh of relief, I launched myself sideways and latched onto his son. “Husband!” The world went silent. I was seven. Liam Sterling, the rich man’s son, was eight. His mouth hung open, revealing those perfect teeth. A deep blush crept up his neck, flooding his handsome face. He instinctively tried to back away, but I held on tight. I was strong and wiry, and he lost his balance, tumbling backward onto the grass with me still attached. The next thing I knew, I was being lifted into the air by my collar. This time, Mrs. Gable truly lost it. As she disciplined me, she ranted, “I told you to stop watching those ridiculous shows with Maria! You’re seven years old! What is wrong with you? Maria?! Where is Maria!” Maria did not appear. The ordeal only ended when the rich boy himself, Liam, tugged on his father’s sleeve and mumbled something. I was finally released. “Ma’am, perhaps there’s another solution,” Mr. Sterling said after a long pause. “This girl… I’d like to take her in. I’ll raise her, see to her education, all the way through college. What do you think?” I don’t know what he and Mrs. Gable discussed after that. My backside was stinging so badly that the words just floated over my head. All I know is that Mrs. Gable insisted she “couldn’t show favoritism,” and so, when the Rolls-Royce with the little silver angel pulled away, both Chloe and I were in the back seat. 2 We moved into the Sterling mansion. The place was like a palace, a sprawling estate worth millions, and our host, Mr. Sterling, was a widower whose son was named Liam. Given that Liam seemed to get kidnapped every other Tuesday, his father quietly enrolled him in a new, exclusive private school. I had the honor of attending with him. So did Chloe. We were given princess bedrooms with beds so soft you’d sink into them. A private chef cooked us meals that were a hundred times better than Maria’s. We wore beautiful new dresses every single day. The only strange part was the young master of the house, Liam. He was always quiet and gloomy, and he hardly ever smiled. I didn’t know the full extent of Mr. Sterling’s wealth, but I knew this: where kidnappers used to only target Liam, I was now the buy-one-get-one-free bonus prize. The moment I was bundled onto the helicopter, I ignored the ropes binding my wrists and pressed my face against the window, screaming with delight. “Liam! Look! The ocean is so beautiful! Wow! We’re so high up! Liam, I forgot to tell you something important. I’m actually a warrior princess from another dimension, here on a secret mission—” My monologue was cut short when one of the exasperated kidnappers slapped a piece of duct tape over my mouth. Silence at last. They landed on a desolate island and threw Liam and me into a small wooden shack. I saw the glint of a gun, black and terrifying. A loud bang echoed through the trees, and I swear it shook the birds right out of their nests. We were left in there for a day and a night, starving. Outside, the kidnappers were constantly on the phone, cursing and shouting about how “that bastard Sterling double-crossed me.” While they were distracted, I took the bobby pin from my hair and started scraping at the rusty old lock on the door. It was a survival skill I’d taught myself back at St. Jude’s whenever I got locked in the time-out closet. As their angry shouts grew louder, I finally heard a click. The lock gave way. I grabbed Liam’s hand and pulled him out into the twilight. We ran. I relied on pure, wild instinct, leading him through the dense woods until we found a hidden cave, its entrance veiled by a curtain of thick vines. It probably belonged to some wild animal, but right now, we didn’t have a choice. Night had fallen completely, and Liam was shivering, his lips turning a faint shade of blue. I remembered what they did in Maria’s dramas. I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him tight against me. My own heart was pounding. “Don’t you dare die,” I whispered fiercely. “If you die, what am I supposed to do?” “You’re too young for this. You have to fight,” I went on, my voice rising with dramatic urgency. “Think about it! You were born with a silver spoon in your mouth. You have more money than you could ever spend! If you die, some other guy is gonna sleep with your wife and boss around your kids…” He managed a weak cough, the corner of his bloodless lips twitching. “Just how many of those toxic dramas… has Maria made you watch?” I thought about it seriously. “She watches them every day. When she’s cooking, she just listens to the audio. In her free time, she’s always scrolling. The longest one had three hundred episodes. She had to watch hundreds of ads just to unlock them all.” His eyes started to flutter shut again. Panic seized me. I took a deep breath and, using every ounce of strength in my body, I roared into the darkness. “I WILL NOT GO QUIETLY INTO THE NIGHT! WHEN I GET OUT OF HERE, YOU WILL ALL PAY!” The body in my arms jolted, and his eyes snapped open. It worked. When Mr. Sterling and his search party finally found us, we were huddled together, both having passed out from exhaustion and cold. I have a feeling if they’d arrived just a little later, I might have actually met that warrior princess from another dimension. Back home, Mr. Sterling kept dabbing at his eyes, his voice thick with emotion as he called my name over and over. “Maya… oh, Maya.” I peered up at him through my eyelashes and whispered weakly. “Dad!” Mr. Sterling’s expression froze for a second, but then he looked at my pale, small face, and all the resistance melted away. He sighed, and this time, he whispered it back. “Okay.” And just like that, the billionaire became my dad. Well, sort of. I called him “Dad” so relentlessly that he finally gave in. He said I could call him my godfather, and we’d make it official. Godfather, real father, what was the difference? I had achieved my ultimate drama-inspired goal: I had a rich dad. I wished Maria was there to see it. She used to say I was so wild because I didn’t have a father. Well, now I had one, and he was exactly the kind of billionaire she obsessed over. Chloe stood nearby, her eyes filled with envy. I shot her a look, trying to encourage her with my eyes. She wanted to try it too, but one glance at Mr. Sterling’s stern, unsmiling face and she lost her nerve. Mr. Sterling, for his part, showed no interest in collecting a second goddaughter. So that was that. After the kidnapping, I started having nightmares. For the first time, I was scared to sleep alone. But Chloe was still angry that she hadn’t been made a goddaughter, too. She ignored me, preferring to cuddle a fancy porcelain doll instead of letting me sleep in her room. So, late at night, after the house was quiet, I would tiptoe down the hall to Liam’s room. “You should have just said you were scared to sleep alone,” I’d whisper, climbing into his bed. “It’s okay, I’m here now.” He would patiently explain that he was perfectly fine sleeping by himself, that he was used to it, but I’d already be burrowed under his covers. Eventually, he’d give up, sighing in resignation as my soft snores filled the room. I had sinus issues that made me snore. It was quiet, but the other kids at the home used to make fun of me for it. I never believed them, because I could never hear it myself. The next morning, Liam would emerge from his room with dark circles under his eyes. I’d feel a small pang of guilt, but it always vanished by the time darkness fell again. Chloe started locking her door, so my only option was Liam. Thankfully, no matter how annoyed he seemed, he never locked his. I always won. I was a chaotic sleeper. I’d toss, turn, sprawl, and kick. He, on the other hand, slept like a soldier at attention, perfectly still. He’d wake up in the exact same position he’d fallen asleep in. I, however, would wake up horizontally, diagonally, or with my head at the foot of the bed. Our positions were a mystery every morning. Years flew by. When we got older, Liam finally learned to lock his door. But he found a new routine. Before he went to sleep, he’d FaceTime me, promising he’d hang up after I fell asleep. In the dark of my room, I’d clutch my phone and whisper. “Liam?” “Go to sleep,” his voice would crackle back, impatient. Five minutes later. “Liam.” “Maya, if you don’t go to sleep, I’m hanging up.” Ten minutes later, the faint sound of my snoring would travel through the speaker. He never hung up. In the morning, I’d see the call log: seven hours and counting. Life at the Sterling house was carefree. If I was home, I’d drag Liam out of his art studio to play in the yard with me. Chloe never joined. She said he was no fun, always wearing a “frosty little face like an ice cube,” and that he was terrible at every game. “Okay, we’re playing house! You’re the husband, I’m the mom, and Chloe, you can be the dad!” That particular game did not get off the ground. The other two participants just stared at me like I was an idiot and flatly refused. Time kept slipping by. The fall after we graduated high school, Liam left for one of the best universities in the country. Chloe and I were left behind, facing the frantic, final sprint of our senior year. “I don’t have high expectations for you, sweetie,” my godfather told me over dinner, his tone serious. “It doesn’t matter what your grades are. When you graduate, there’s a job waiting for you at my company. I’ll take care of you for the rest of your life.” I shoveled rice into my mouth. “Dad, I don’t want the corporate 9-to-9 grind. Can’t you just find me a decent trust fund kid from your circle? I think I’d make a great trophy wife.” A sharp flick hit my forehead. Mr. Sterling was looking at me with the same look of profound disappointment Mrs. Gable used to give me. “My own father beat me with a coat hanger when I was a boy. I thought, for sure, my son would be a little hellion like me. I was almost looking forward to it. But no, my son is a perfect angel, and my daughter turns out to be a wild monkey! Get out of here. And if you bomb your finals, you can forget about that condo I promised you.” A lightning bolt of pure horror shot through me. The condo! My condo was on the line! Fuming, I snatched the fresh cup of coffee his assistant had just brought in and chugged the entire thing, not leaving him a single drop. “Mr. Sterling…” the poor assistant stammered, looking heartbroken. My godfather rubbed his temples. “Does saying my name magically refill the cup? Go on, try calling me Mr. Sterling too.” The miserable assistant and I left his office at the same time. I trudged back to school, miserable myself. I should have just agreed. Who wasn’t a corporate drone? Mr. Sterling worked harder than anyone, up before the sun and in bed long after midnight. It was way worse than 9-to-9. Ugh. “Liam? Could you help me with my calculus?” I don’t know when it started, but even Chloe had started calling him by his first name, her voice sweet as sugar. I was in the stairwell at school, drinking a juice box, when I overheard her on the phone with him. I couldn’t hear his replies, but I saw the bright, triumphant smile on her face when she hung up. She saw me on her way down the stairs. I started to wave, but she just gave me a quick glance out of the corner of her eye, flipped her hair, and walked right past me. Things had gotten weird in high school. Chloe and I stopped being roommates; she got her own room. Sometimes she’d make little digs at me in private, but in front of my godfather or Liam, she was the picture of gentle, quiet grace. If I ever called her on it, her face would instantly harden, her eyes welling with tears. “You’re his goddaughter now, Maya. I’m just a guest here, an outsider. I have to walk on eggshells every single day. What more do you want from me? Are you going to bully me too, just like everyone else?” Before I could even argue, she’d slam her door in my face. She had her own friends now, and she’d started wearing makeup behind my godfather’s back. With me, she grew more and more distant. With Liam, however, she was getting closer and closer. The boy she used to call an “ice cube” was still an ice cube, but now she was the one constantly orbiting him, her smile bright and persistent. And to be fair, Liam had grown up to be ridiculously handsome. He had the kind of proportions you only see in comics, and his hands, long-fingered and elegant, were beautiful. His hobby, of all things, was painting. I could watch those hands move a brush across a canvas for hours. I wasn’t the only one. The girls at our school were obsessed with him. He had the looks, the talent, the money, the grades, and that aloof, sophisticated personality. He was a romance novel hero come to life. Girls had been confessing their love to him since freshman year. It was no exaggeration to say he could get asked for his number just walking the dog. But the guy was an impenetrable fortress of ice, completely clueless when it came to romance. “Oh, my brother… you know how he is.” The smarter girls learned to try and get to him through me. I’d squint my eyes mysteriously at some hopeful heiress who’d just slipped me a hundred-dollar bill. “Okay, look,” I’d whisper, leaning in conspiratorially. “He’s into the cutesy, anime-type girls. You know, chibi style? That’s all I can give you. You have to figure out the rest. If he finds out I told you, I’m dead…” It was top-secret intel I’d gathered by risking my life to peek at his sketchbook. There wasn’t a single realistic portrait of a beautiful woman in it. They were all these adorable, big-headed cartoon characters, cute but with a hint of mischief. I didn’t dare say more, afraid the rumor would get twisted. After all, who would believe that the cool, untouchable god of our school secretly liked to draw cute, bubbly cartoons? The thought of my condo, so close and yet so far, spurred me into action. I was going to get serious. I tied my hair back into a messy bun and marched over to the desk of my class vice president, Alex. “Alex, can you tutor me? I’ll pay you. No freebies.” I pulled a crumpled wad of cash from my pocket and slapped it on his desk. He stopped fiddling with his pen, pushed his glasses up his nose, and gave a single, cool nod. “Okay.” And so my life became a frantic blur of studying. I’d see messages from Liam pop up on my phone late at night, but I was too tired to reply. Then I’d be rushing out the door in the morning and forget all about them. This happened several times. One day, I was at a coffee shop owned by Alex’s mom, deep in a tutoring session. He spoke softly, so I had to lean in close to hear his explanation of a complex formula. I was concentrating so hard that when I finally looked up, I was startled to see Liam standing right in front of our table. His face was a mask of ice. And next to him, a faint, knowing smile playing on her lips, was Chloe. She was clutching a stack of books to her chest, looking like an innocent, studious bystander. “Maya, there you are,” Chloe said, her voice just loud enough for the few other patrons in the cafe to turn and look. “Liam was texting you, but you weren’t answering. We were so worried. We thought something might have happened to you.” Her words were dripping with concern, but the smug satisfaction in her eyes was impossible to miss. Before I could say a word, Liam strode forward. He didn’t even glance at Alex. His gaze was locked on me, his voice colder than a Siberian winter. “We’re going home.”

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1 In my second life, I didn’t go to the vet with my best friend. Instead, I stayed up all night, chugged two bottles of a potent herbal liqueur known for its high alcohol content, and got on the highway. When the flashing lights pulled me over, I blew hard into the breathalyzer until it screamed. Then, smiling, I climbed into the back of the police cruiser. In my past life, my best friend, Serena, had called me, frantic. Her cat was sick, and she begged me to drive her to the emergency vet. But on the way, her normally placid cat had suddenly launched itself at my face, a feral blur of claws and teeth. I lost control of the car and slammed into a massive Tibetan Mastiff. The dog’s owner demanded a million dollars in compensation. My parents bankrupted themselves trying to save me, selling their home and cashing out their retirement. My fiancé’s reputation was dragged through the mud alongside mine. In the end, after I had nothing left, I was cornered by a mob of animal rights vigilantes, beaten to death, and my body left in a ditch. This time would be different. 2 “Your blood alcohol is over the limit. Ma’am, please step out of the vehicle immediately.” The officer’s voice was firm as he stared at the flashing breathalyzer in his hand. The moment I stepped onto the pavement, my phone buzzed. A text from Serena. “Aria, my poor kitty has diarrhea, he’s so weak. Can you please, please drive us to the vet?” The exact same message as before. The words hit me like a physical blow. A cold dread washed over me, and my body began to tremble. “Scared now, are we? Should have thought of that before you started drinking.” The officer clapped a hand on my shoulder. I snapped out of my trance and beamed at him, practically skipping towards the cruiser. “Let’s go, officer! Take me away!” “Alright, at least you’re cooperating.” He muttered under his breath, “What’s with the smile? This is a police station, not a party.” A couple of other drunk guys in the back of the car stared at me like I had two heads. At the station, a nurse prepared to draw my blood for a more accurate test. I held out my arm, a look of triumph on my face. The nurse frowned, her grip tightening on the needle. “Aria, are you okay?” “Honey, the police said you were driving under the influence. What on earth is going on?” The door to the small medical room burst open. My parents and my fiancé, Leo, rushed in, their faces etched with worry. “Hey, we’re in the middle of a procedure, you can’t just come in here!” the nurse snapped. “My fiancée would never drink and drive,” Leo insisted, his voice tight with anger. “There must be a mistake!” My parents just looked at me, their eyes filled with a familiar, heart-wrenching concern. Seeing them all there, ready to defend me, made my eyes burn. It was okay. Everything was going to be okay this time. In this life, my parents wouldn’t lose everything for me. My fiancé wouldn’t have his career destroyed because of me. “We’ll know if there was a mistake when the results come back. Now please, wait outside!” An officer stepped in. He squinted at my face under the harsh fluorescent lights, then sniffed the air around me. “You haven’t been drinking, have you?” he asked, his voice low. A flicker of panic shot through me, but I crushed it down. I put on my best indignant act. “Of course not! I have no idea why that machine went off. It’s probably broken, right?” The officer gave a slightly embarrassed nod and walked off to check on the others. I glanced at my phone. Another message from Serena. “Did you fall asleep? Why aren’t you answering? I booked the vet appointment. See you at nine a.m. sharp.” 3 In my last life, I had agreed. I drove her and her cat to the vet myself. On the road, that “sick,” gentle little cat had exploded from her lap and clawed at my face. I’d flailed, trying to push it off, and the car had swerved, hitting the Tibetan Mastiff that had darted out from the side of the road. The dog was thrown fifteen feet, landing in a bloody heap. It was gone in seconds. The owner went berserk. He dragged me from my car and beat me right there on the pavement next to his dog’s body. “My Apollo was a prize-winner from Sotheby’s! I paid over a million dollars for him, and you killed him! Are you blind?!” he screamed, his face purple with rage. “I don’t care what happens, you will pay me back every single cent!” Bystanders gathered, but no one intervened. They just pointed and whispered. “The road is wide open. How do you even manage to hit a dog? She must have done it on purpose.” “Probably just got dumped and decided to take it out on the world.” I tried to explain about the cat, that it startled me, that it was an accident. But Serena, stroking the creature in her arms, immediately shot me down. “What are you talking about? You swerved on purpose. Don’t you dare blame my poor, sick cat for your recklessness!” There were no security cameras on that stretch of road. With Serena and the dog owner both pointing the finger at me, I was doomed. My family and Leo were ruined along with me. And even after we’d scraped together the money, even after the transfer went through, I was ambushed by those vigilantes. The blood and the pain of my last life were a scar on my soul. But this time, I had an airtight alibi. I was at a police station, surrounded by cops, cameras, and medical staff. No one could frame me now. After the blood test, I spent the night in a holding cell. It was cold and damp, but I felt a warmth spreading through my chest. The next morning, an officer came to my cell with a report. “Your blood alcohol content was below the legal limit. You’re free to go.” I checked my phone. It was already noon. I had successfully missed the 9 a.m. appointment from hell. Just to be safe, I put on a sheepish face and told the officer my car was out of gas, begging for a ride home. The moment I hopped off the back of his motorcycle, I saw it: a swarm of police cars and officers in front of my apartment building. Suddenly, Serena burst out of the crowd, her eyes red-rimmed. She grabbed my hand. “Aria! I know how much you love animals! Why would you deliberately run over that man’s dog this morning?” My eyes went wide. “What?” The officer beside me looked just as confused. I’d been at the station since last night. How could she still be trying to pin this on me? I yanked my hand away. “I was at the police station all night, being held on suspicion of a DUI—” “So you were drinking!” Serena cut me off, her voice rising dramatically. “No wonder you crashed, even with your skills! But Aria, if you knew you were drinking, why did you still insist on driving me? Don’t you know that causing an accident while drunk is an even worse crime?” A crowd of onlookers pressed in, their murmurs turning hostile at Serena’s words. Some were holding their own pets, and the looks they gave me were filled with pure fury. Before I knew it, I felt shoves and punches from the crowd. Muddy footprints appeared on the back of my shirt. The officers nearby saw the commotion and rushed over to break it up. Finally able to breathe, I screamed at Serena, “I wasn’t drinking, I didn’t drive anywhere, and I sure as hell didn’t kill anyone’s dog! Stop spreading lies! If you have proof, then show it!” A flash of venom crossed Serena’s face before she masked it with performative grief, shouting to the crowd, “Officers, please! My friend is clearly not in her right mind! She was drunk, she didn’t kill the dog on purpose! Can’t you talk to the owner? Maybe he’ll settle for nine hundred thousand instead of a full million?” She grabbed my arm again, trying to drag me toward a police car. I struggled, her nails digging into my skin. Just then, the officer who drove me home stepped in, his hand clamping down on Serena’s wrist like a vice. “This woman has been at the police station with me since last night. I just dropped her off.” He stared Serena down. “You claim she killed a dog. Where is your evidence?” 4 At the officer’s challenge, Serena froze. She finally let go of my arm, but her arrogance remained. “Who are you? I’m assisting the police with their investigation. Uninvolved parties should stay out of it.” “I’m a police officer.” He flashed his badge. “Ma’am,” he said, his voice hard as steel, “I don’t know why you’re so agitated. But I suggest you explain why you’re accusing someone who has a perfect alibi.” Panic flickered in Serena’s eyes. Her mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. Just then, a man pushed his way out of the crowd. The dog owner. He pointed a trembling finger at my face. “I can prove it! She’s the one who killed my Apollo!” Seeing the man who had helped ruin my life, I felt a surge of cold fury. In my past life, yes, I had killed his dog. It was an accident, but I accepted the blame. But this life? I hadn’t been anywhere near a car. We had never even met. On what grounds was he so certain it was me? I glared at him. “Sir, you can’t just throw accusations around. We are complete strangers. Why are you trying to frame me?” “I have a video from the traffic department! It’s all the proof I need!” he roared, pulling out his phone. The crowd surged forward to see. On the screen, a woman in a white dress, baseball cap, and sunglasses slammed a car into a Tibetan Mastiff. The car’s make, model, and even the license plate were identical to mine. The woman’s face was obscured, but her build was eerily similar to mine. After the crash, she got out, glanced at the dog, then jumped back in the car and sped away. 5 A wave of shocked gasps went through the crowd. I was just as stunned as they were. I hadn’t driven anywhere near that vet clinic. How could this video exist? Angry shouts erupted. “That’s her! It has to be!” “You can’t see her face, but the clothes, the car… it’s a perfect match.” “Tibetan Mastiffs are such intelligent dogs. That woman is a monster!” The accusations rained down on me. Serena seized the moment, her voice dripping with venomous pity. “Aria, I know you have a habit of being cruel to small animals, but this is too much! And to think you’d bribe a police officer to lie for you… you’ve really gone too far!” Her words whipped the crowd into a frenzy. Rotten eggs and wilted vegetables started flying through the air, splattering against my clothes and hair. The officer who brought me home roared, “Everybody calm down! I have proof that this woman is innocent!” He retrieved his body camera from his motorcycle. “She was under constant surveillance from the moment she left the station this morning. This is her alibi.” Two videos, two completely different stories. Now everyone was confused. The crowd, the other officers, even the dog owner. One of the cops got on his radio, calling the station to verify my whereabouts over the last twenty-four hours. The dog owner was muttering to himself, “I couldn’t have been mistaken…” Serena was starting to look genuinely panicked, her mask of concern finally dropping. I met her glare with a cold smile. “Once the police confirm my alibi, this will all be over. You must be so disappointed.” Her tense face suddenly relaxed into a sickeningly sweet smile. “What are you talking about? We’re best friends. I couldn’t be happier that you’re innocent.” I turned away from her in disgust. The crowd was still agitated, their eyes burning with suspicion. Just then, another car pulled up. The officer who’d been on the radio had called for backup. The nurse from the station stepped out. She looked me over carefully and nodded. “That’s right. This woman was at the station all night. She didn’t leave until noon today. I even have her official blood test results.” She held up the stamped document. A new wave of confusion washed over the crowd. “Wait a minute. The cop and the nurse both say she wasn’t there. But what about the video the dog owner showed us? That was clearly her car, and it looked just like her!” “Either the video is fake, or the cops are lying for her. There’s no other explanation.” Serena shrieked, pointing a finger at me. “I get it now! You bribed them! You paid off the cop and the nurse to create a fake alibi for you!” She grabbed my arm again, tears streaming down her face. “Aria, how many times have I told you to be an honest person? I can’t believe you’d not only kill a dog but also bribe public officials to cover it up! You’re hopeless!” Her performance was convincing. The crowd’s anger turned back on me, hotter than before. “Her own best friend is saying it! It must be true!” “You monster! You bribed them!” “Killer! You’re the killer!” A man holding a Border Collie suddenly let go of the leash. The dog barked ferociously and lunged at me. I tried to dodge, but its teeth sank into my calf, a searing pain shooting up my leg. I cried out and instinctively kicked the dog away. It yelped and scrambled back to its owner, who scooped it up protectively. Serena pounced. “You see? Look how cruel she is! She even attacks a sweet, innocent Border Collie! And you still expect us to believe you didn’t kill that Mastiff on purpose? Not even a ghost would believe you!” Her eyes gleamed with a triumphant, “you’re finished” look. She held my arm in a death grip. Just then, the officer and the nurse finally pushed their way through the mob. “Ma’am,” the officer said, his voice booming with authority, “I had never met this woman before last night. There was no bribery. I demand you stop slandering a police officer, or you will face legal consequences.” Serena went pale and her hand immediately fell away from my arm. Finally, I could breathe. The police formed a protective circle around me. But before they could disperse the crowd, a new commotion erupted from the edge of the street. The dog owner was grabbing a young woman who had just been watching from the sidelines. “There you are!” he bellowed. “You killed my Apollo, and now you’re trying to sneak away!”

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“I was a princess in a tower of my own making. Then they found the real one. When the actual Ainsworth heiress came home, I became the family’s dirty little secret: the placeholder daughter. To make things less excruciatingly awkward for everyone, I volunteered to move out of the Greenwich mansion and into a campus dorm. I also broke off my engagement. “You’re breaking up with me again?” Carter Hayes had asked, his voice a low drawl over the phone. “This time it’s real, Carter.” “Oh?” A soft chuckle, drenched in the kind of confidence that came from a lifetime of never being told no. “I don’t accept.” And so began Carter’s grand, ridiculously public campaign to win me back. It was a blitzkrieg of wealth and romance. Cartier jewels arrived at my dorm’s mailroom like Amazon packages. A sea of imported roses flooded the main campus quad, and a fireworks display, extravagant enough for New Year’s Eve, lit up the entire city skyline one Tuesday night. Drones danced in the dark, forming my name in glittering lights while the whole student body watched from below, gasping and filming on their phones. But I refused to see him. I held my ground until my roommate, Ashley, cornered me between my desk and the door, her expression a mask of pure annoyance. “Penelope, can you please stop stringing Carter Hayes along?” she demanded. “You two are broken up. So, would you mind if I went after him?” In that exact moment, the world tilted. Strange, translucent lines of text flickered into existence in my vision, hovering in the air like comments on a livestream. 【YES! This is the energy! Our girl is so freaking bold!】 【LMAO, watch the ice queen’s face crack. She turns down his proposals just to play games, and now she’s about to lose him for real. Serves her right.】 【Penelope is the worst kind of user. She says they’re broken up but loves the attention of him begging. Total parasite.】 【I’m so done. My heart breaks for Carter!】 1 The sudden appearance of the comments left me utterly frozen. “What’s with that look?” Ashley scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Don’t act like I’m stealing your boyfriend. You’re exes, Penelope. Let him go. You don’t own him.” 【Seriously. He’s an ex. She has no claim on him anymore.】 【This is why I love Ashley. She’s all action, no games. She sees what she wants and goes for it.】 【Does Penelope really think that just because they dated, Carter has to stay single forever? Get over yourself.】 【Typical. Women who are like dogs with a bone. They don’t want the toy, but they’ll be damned if another dog plays with it.】 【Don’t you worry, babies. Carter will realize soon enough that Ashley is his true soulmate!】 Ashley arched an eyebrow, her tone deceptively casual. “Look, I’m trying to do this the right way. So I’m asking you one last time: you and Carter are over. Correct?” I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. The truth was, I had no idea what we were. A week ago, we were the couple everyone envied. Now, I was the imposter daughter, and the real heiress, Claire Ainsworth, was back. Claire claimed I had stolen her life. She wanted me out of the family home as repayment for the twenty years of charity they’d shown me. The sight of me sent her into fits of tears so violent she’d once fainted and ended up in the hospital. My parents—our parents?—were terrified, and the house had become a war zone. I was the bomb that had detonated their lives. I didn’t want to make it harder for anyone. So I packed my bags, moved into this tiny dorm room, and ripped my own heart out by telling Carter it was over. But Carter refused to let go. He was pursuing me with the kind of flagrant, over-the-top gestures that made it impossible to ignore him. To say I wasn’t tempted, that my resolve didn’t waver, would be a lie. But a cold, hard truth kept pulling me back: the engagement was to the Ainsworth heiress. That wasn’t me. I was a fraud. I had to let him go. I just never imagined that Ashley, of all people, would throw herself into this tangled mess. I could only manage a bitter, ironic smile. That man was walking, talking pheromones. 2 “That’s between Carter and me.” It was a private matter, and the last thing I wanted was to dissect it with her. Ashley, however, was not satisfied. “God, can you stop being so melodramatic? You’ve been ‘breaking up’ for a week. Does that sound normal to you? It sounds like you never meant to break up at all.” Suddenly, her eyes widened as if she’d discovered a brilliant, hidden truth. “Oh my god. You really are stringing him along, aren’t you?” She let out a theatrical gasp. “Everyone was saying it, and I actually defended you. I can’t believe I was so stupid. You’ve really disappointed me, Penelope.” Her eyes narrowed, raking over me with a newfound contempt. “Playing the victim while secretly pulling the strings. You’re more calculating than I thought, Penelope.” The comments exploded in a torrent of vitriol. 【No doubt about it. She’s keeping him on the back burner. Classic move.】 【Ashley has her number. She saw right through the fake princess act.】 【Penelope is a vanity monster. Carter showering her with expensive gifts makes her look good. Everyone on campus envies her, thinking she’s got it made—even without the Ainsworth name, she’s still got the Hayes fortune to fall back on.】 【You guys don’t get it. This is all for Claire’s benefit. The more Carter obsesses over her, the more valuable she looks. It’s a slap in the face to the real heiress and makes the Ainsworths think twice about cutting her off completely. She’s a stone-cold bitch!】 Just then, my phone buzzed. An unknown number. I knew it was him. After I broke up with him, I had blocked him everywhere. For the past week, he had called me from a new number every single day with terrifying patience. I was about to decline the call when Ashley’s hand shot out, snatching the phone from my grasp. She answered it and put it on speaker. Carter’s deep, magnetic voice filled the small room. “Well, well. Finally decided to pick up for me, Princess?” His tone was laced with a lazy, confident smile. “I’m downstairs.” As if on cue, a wave of excited screams erupted from the courtyard below. I glanced out the window. A sleek, black Bentley was parked at the curb, its trunk wide open, revealing an opulent bed of perfect, crimson roses. Nestled in the center of the flowers was a velvet box, open to display a breathtaking diamond necklace that glittered under the campus lights. Carter himself, dressed in a tailored khaki trench coat, leaned casually against the car door, his phone to his ear. His face was so devastatingly handsome it felt like a crime. Ashley’s cheeks flushed a bright pink, and her voice suddenly turned breathy and sweet. “Carter? It’s me.” 3 There was a distinct pause on the other end of the line. “Who is this? Why do you have Penelope’s phone?” “It’s Ashley. Penelope’s roommate? We met at her birthday party last year.” Carter’s voice immediately cooled. “And?” “And if I hadn’t answered, Penelope was about to hang up on you.” “What is your point?” he asked, his tone clipped. “My point is, she’s not going to get back with you. You should stop wasting your time. You two just aren’t right for each other.” A dry, humorless laugh echoed from the phone. “…And I should be wasting my time on you instead?” Ashley’s smile was audacious, predatory. “You could. I’d let you.” 【OH MY GOD, I SHIP IT! A confident queen who knows what she wants!】 【Yesss, Ashley wants! Ashley gets!】 【If I were Carter, I’d fall for a girl like that in a heartbeat. That kind of confidence is magnetic.】 The silence on Carter’s end stretched on. It was so long I thought he’d hung up. So long that the triumphant smirk on Ashley’s face began to falter. Then, finally, he spoke, his voice tinged with a new, intriguing amusement. “Oh?” he said slowly. “Interesting.” Ashley’s eyes lit up, shining like she’d just been handed a galaxy of stars. 【A-H-H-H! HE SAID INTERESTING! HE’S INTO HER!】 【I knew it! Who could possibly resist our brave, straightforward queen?】 【The ice princess must be absolutely losing her mind right now. Hahaha, her little games backfired spectacularly!】 She wasn’t wrong. I was losing my mind. My heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible fist, a dull, crushing ache that stole my breath. “So… Carter, should I come down?” Ashley asked, her voice trembling with barely concealed excitement. “Yeah,” he replied, his tone crisp and decisive. Ashley ended the call and flashed me a victorious smile, dangling my phone like a trophy. “See, Penelope? This is what men want. That whole ‘playing hard to get’ thing is so last century.” With that, she spun around and began frantically tearing through her closet. “Which one? Is the V-neck too much? No, no, this little white dress. It’s more… innocent.” She shimmied into the dress and quickly applied a full face of makeup with practiced hands. Just before leaving, she paused in front of me and did a little twirl. “What do you think? Do I look good?” I said nothing. She didn’t care. A dismissive smirk played on her lips. “You had your chance, Penelope. Don’t blame me for taking it.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “From now on, Carter is mine.” Then, she clicked out of the room on her heels, a proud peacock off to claim her prize. The comments resumed their relentless assault. 【Go get your man, Ashley!】 【I bet Penelope looks like she just swallowed a gallon of sour milk. LOL.】 【She has no one to blame but herself. Too late for regrets now!】 I walked slowly to the balcony. Below, Ashley had already reached Carter’s car. She was smiling, her face tilted up as she spoke to him animatedly. Carter was looking down at her, a faint smile on his lips, his gaze focused and intent. It was a look I’d never seen from him before. A gentle look. He reached into the trunk, pulled out a single rose, and handed it to her. Ashley took it, her delight obvious. Then, she rose onto her tiptoes and planted a quick, bold kiss on his cheek. The screams from the onlookers intensified. And Carter… he didn’t pull away. He didn’t even flinch. He simply raised a hand and playfully ruffled her hair. My fingers gripped the iron railing of the balcony, my knuckles turning white from the pressure. So this was it. All my pain, all my attempts to be logical and do the right thing—it was all just a joke to him. He wasn’t exclusively mine. He could turn his affection to someone else in a heartbeat. 【Hahaha, she’s watching from the balcony! Seething!】 【Look at her face, it’s like her whole world is ending. So satisfying to watch.】 【Keep looking, bitch. He’s not yours anymore.】 My phone vibrated in my pocket. A text message. It was from Claire, the real Ainsworth. “Did you see that, Penelope? Without the Ainsworth name, you’re nothing. Even Carter doesn’t want you anymore. You must be feeling pretty pathetic right now. It looks good on you.” I stared at the text, then back down at the picture-perfect couple below. Something inside me, something I had been suppressing for weeks, finally shattered. Why? Why was I the one who had to retreat, only to be vilified by everyone? Why did I have to be the one to sacrifice everything for their comfort, only to be left with nothing but scars? Why did they get to steal my entire life and then stand back and laugh at my despair? The comments continued to mock me. 【Just give up. A supporting character should know her place. Just be a stepping stone for the main couple’s love story.】 【Exactly. Why does she have to be so obnoxious?】 They wanted me to suffer. They wanted to see me break down, to watch me hide in a corner and cry. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. I turned and walked back into my room, straight to the suitcase I hadn’t fully unpacked. It held the relics of my former life: the most beautiful, most expensive clothes and jewelry I owned. I pulled out a stunning, floor-length red gown Carter had given me for my last birthday. Then, I sat at my small desk, and with a steady hand, I applied the most exquisite, dramatic makeup I knew how. The girl in the mirror was a stranger. Her eyes were sharp, her lips were the color of blood, and she carried herself with the pride of a thorny, untouchable rose. This was Penelope Ainsworth. The girl who had been cherished, who could have anything she ever wanted. They wanted a villain? Fine. I would give them one. I would become the villain who would bring them all to their knees.”

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The year Jocelyn hit rock bottom, her first love shattered her collarbone with a knife—all for a thousand bucks. I was the one who pulled her from the river she tried to drown herself in, giving her a second chance at life. It took her five years to claw her way up, transforming into a business prodigy the city’s elite whispered about in awe. And at the absolute peak of her career, she chose to marry me. Everyone said I was the luckiest man alive. Until our wedding day. Ryan, the ex who had abandoned her, crashed the ceremony and forcibly kissed her in front of everyone. He ripped open his collar, revealing a canvas of ugly, purplish marks. His eyes, full of provocation, locked onto mine. “Has Jocelyn ever played like this with you, Ethan? The night before your wedding, she was in my bed, begging me not to leave.” A chilling cold washed over me, plunging me into an icy abyss. I turned to look at Jocelyn. She just stood there, silent. No denial. No explanation. In that single, deafening moment, I understood everything. 1 Under the stunned gaze of every guest, I slowly withdrew the wedding ring I held in my palm. Jocelyn’s hand shot out, grabbing mine. Her voice was as unnervingly calm as ever. “What’s wrong? Aren’t we continuing the ceremony?” She paid no mind to Ryan’s taunts, nor did she deny a single word he’d said. Her reaction seemed to stun Ryan the most. He began to tremble violently, his face a mask of disbelief and rage. “Jocelyn! Have you forgotten what you said to me yesterday?” He swept his hand across a table, shattering a wine glass. Snatching a shard of glass, he pressed it against his own throat. “If you dare marry him today, I’ll die right here.” The wild movement exposed more of the dark marks blooming across his skin. My mind flashed back to the night before. Jocelyn was a lightweight, which is why I always handled the drinking at business functions. But last night, she’d come home completely wasted. The moment she walked through the door, she was on me, her kisses more desperate and passionate than ever before. “Ethan, it’s you I love, it can only be you…” she murmured against my lips. “Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me like he did.” She repeated it like a mantra, as if trying to convince me, or maybe herself. Then her phone buzzed, shattering the spell. Her face went pale when she saw the caller ID, and she instinctively pushed me away. I caught her hand, my voice hoarse. “Don’t stop.” She’d never pushed me away like that before. Never. “Our wedding is tomorrow. You need to rest,” she said, her voice suddenly distant. “Something came up at the office. I have to take care of it.” She leaned in, giving me a quick, almost chaste kiss on the corner of my mouth before hurrying out. She never came home that night. Now, I clenched my fist around the ring. The diamond bit into my flesh, the sharp sting a brutal confirmation that this was no nightmare. The old Jocelyn would have had anyone who disrupted her wedding dragged out and destroyed. But this Jocelyn simply held out her hand, stubbornly waiting for me to place the ring on her finger. “This is our wedding day. Don’t make a scene,” she whispered, her eyes flashing with a warning. “Ignore him. He doesn’t have the guts to actually do it. Let’s just finish the ceremony.” Her dismissive tone was the final straw for Ryan. He completely lost it, smashing decorations, his voice cracking as he screamed through his tears. “I won’t let you marry him! You promised me! Yesterday, you told me marrying Ethan was just your way of repaying a debt!” Jocelyn’s expression hardened. She finally shot Ryan a look, but only to signal her bodyguards to remove him. “He wants to die,” I said, my voice flat as I stepped forward, blocking the bodyguards’ path. “Why not let him?” I put the ring back in my pocket and turned to Jocelyn. “Does your promise to me still stand?” The day Ryan came back into her life, the day he found out I was her fiancé, he’d ambushed me on the street and stabbed me three times. I nearly bled out on the pavement. Jocelyn had sworn to me then, promised me that if I ever saw him again, I could settle the score myself. This time, I didn’t wait for her answer. I grabbed a steak knife from a nearby table and plunged it into Ryan’s stomach. Blood bloomed from the wound, dripping onto the pristine white floor. Gasps echoed through the hall. Jocelyn, who had been so composed, finally broke. Her face contorted in panic. She rushed to Ryan’s side, frantically checking his injury before whirling on me, her voice a venomous hiss. “Ethan! What the hell are you doing?” Her face was a thundercloud as she announced the wedding was postponed indefinitely. Then, without another glance at me, she helped Ryan out of the hall and rushed him to the hospital. The bride was gone. The wedding was a wreck. The officiant stood awkwardly on the stage. Watching her leave without a moment’s hesitation, a sharp, splintering pain pierced my heart. I let the bloody knife clatter to the floor. Jocelyn could walk away. Fine. But that meant my bride could be replaced, too. 2 Jocelyn’s assistant picked me up and drove me to the hospital. As the city lights blurred past the window, the last five years with her replayed in my mind like a phantom film. Before she met me, Jocelyn had nothing. Ryan had taken her last bit of money, breaking her collarbone in the process, all during the year she needed him most. I was the one who stood by her, who guided her to where she is today. I was the one who drank myself into stomach surgery just to land her a career-making deal. We endured five brutal years together, and she finally became the powerhouse she’d always dreamed of being. And then, Ryan came back. When I arrived at the hospital, I found Jocelyn pacing frantically outside the operating room, her hands clasped together as if in prayer. The moment she saw me, her panic vanished, replaced by a cold mask. She strode toward me, opening her mouth to speak, but then she met my gaze and lowered her voice. “Ethan, that was all in the past. I already punished him. Why can’t you just let it go?” she demanded, her voice tight with suppressed anger. “Don’t you realize that if he dies, you’ll be a murderer?” She was trying so hard to control her fury, her knuckles white as she gripped the fabric of her dress, her eyes darting back to the closed doors of the OR. A bitter smile twisted my lips. I lifted my shirt, revealing the three jagged, ugly scars that marred my abdomen. “So this is just ‘the past’ to you?” I asked, my voice dangerously quiet. “Do you have any idea how close I was to dying when he gave me these? You were the one who knelt by my hospital bed, swearing to me that if I ever saw him again, I could get my own justice.” Her promise was the only reason I’d signed the settlement, the only reason I’d agreed not to press charges. After that, Ryan had disappeared. I thought he was gone for good, but it turned out Jocelyn had been in contact with him all along. “I stabbed him once,” I said, my voice hollow. “And you’re already falling apart.” Jocelyn rubbed her temples, her frustration boiling over. “What do you want from me? I’ve finally secured my position in this city. Do you expect me to just stand by and watch you go to prison for murder?” She sighed, a long, weary sound, as if my actions today were nothing more than an inconvenience. “We’ve come so far. Can you please just stop making trouble?” “Good,” I said, my voice cold. “Since the wedding’s off anyway, this makes things simpler. If you want to rekindle things with your first love, I won’t stand in your way.” Her eyes turned to ice. The disappointment in them was a physical blow. “Is the wedding all you can think about right now? Is it that hard for you to admit you were wrong? There’s nothing going on between me and Ryan. Can’t you trust me for once? I just don’t want to see you resort to violence. If you actually killed him, what would I do?” Her words were so absurd I almost laughed. Before I could respond, the doors to the operating room swung open. A doctor pushed Ryan out on a gurney. “The wound wasn’t too deep. You got him here just in time. He’s out of danger now.” Jocelyn stared at Ryan’s pale face, her brow furrowed with worry. She reached out, her fingers gently tracing his cheek. Then, she took the knife—the same one I’d used at the wedding—from her assistant. Before I could process what was happening, she raised it to her own collarbone and slashed. Twice. Droplets of her blood spattered onto my face. I stood frozen, watching the color drain from her cheeks as crimson bloomed across the pristine white of her wedding dress. “Are you satisfied now?” she hissed, her voice trembling with pain and fury. “I’ve paid his debt with these two cuts. Now, you will leave him alone.” I closed my eyes, a dry, burning sensation behind them. “Fine,” I said, my voice devoid of all emotion. “We’re getting a divorce. From now on, we’re strangers.” 3 Jocelyn never came home after that. She stayed at the hospital, by Ryan’s side, for as long as he was there. I didn’t try to contact her. Instead, I had my lawyer deliver the divorce papers to her office. I also called the wedding planner and told them to change the bride’s name on the invitations. It was about time for my new bride to arrive, anyway. I glanced at the calendar on the wall, at the date circled in red. Today was also the anniversary of my sister’s death. “Lily,” I whispered, my fingers tracing the glass of the picture frame. “Jocelyn has changed. The person you saved… she doesn’t want me anymore.” My sister, Lily, had been Jocelyn’s best friend. When Jocelyn’s career was just taking off, a rival sabotaged them. They planted a bomb in their car. In the split second before the explosion, Lily shoved Jocelyn out of the vehicle. Lily was blown to pieces. There was nothing left to bury. After that, Jocelyn and I never spoke of her death. With the first money she ever made, Jocelyn bought her a plot in the city’s most beautiful cemetery. Every year, on this day, we would visit her together. But this year, I was alone. I held a bouquet of lavender, Lily’s favorite, and headed to the cemetery, a strange sense of dread coiling in my stomach. When I arrived, the place was swarming with men in black suits. Jocelyn’s bodyguards. My heart hammered against my ribs. I shoved my way through them, my blood running cold. The sight that greeted me almost drove me insane. “Dig faster. Get the urn out,” Jocelyn commanded her men. She stood over my sister’s grave, watching as they unearthed it with shovels. Once the urn was out, one of her men handed it to Ryan. The next second, with a triumphant, vicious smirk, Ryan smashed the urn on the ground. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” “Jocelyn, have you lost your mind?! THIS IS LILY’S GRAVE!” My legs gave out, and I collapsed to my knees. I scrambled forward, my hands trembling as I tried to scoop up my sister’s ashes from the mud. Jocelyn hadn’t expected me. She shot an irritated glare at her assistant. “I told you to keep him away.” She reached down to help me up, but I slapped her hand away. “Lily DIED for you! How could you do this? Aren’t you afraid of the consequences?!” I roared, fighting back tears, trying desperately not to let them fall and mix with the ashes. The wind was cruel, scattering what little remained. In the end, all I had was a handful of gray dust. Beside her, Ryan draped an arm around Jocelyn’s shoulders, his expression oozing with smug satisfaction. “Joce, you promised you’d grant my wish, remember?” A tremor ran through me. I slowly, stiffly, raised my head to look at her. A year ago, she had chosen this very spot for Lily, posting guards to ensure she would never be disturbed. And now, because of a single sentence from Ryan, she had dug up her grave. Jocelyn didn’t seem to think she’d done anything wrong. She knelt in front of me, her voice soft, almost gentle. “Lily’s been gone for so long, Ethan. She’s probably been reincarnated by now.” “I’ll build her a new, better memorial later.” “Ryan promised me,” she continued, her voice pleading, “that if I did this one thing for him, he would leave me alone for good. Then I can finally be with you, with no distractions.” The veins in my temples throbbed. I stared at her, my voice a low, guttural snarl. “You are pathetic, Jocelyn. Ryan would break your bones for a thousand dollars, and you’re still obsessed with him.” “I should have let you die in that river.” My voice was raw. I pushed myself to my feet, ready to lunge at Ryan, ready to kill them both right here. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to see them both dead. But the next sound wasn’t my own scream of rage. It was the deafening crack of a gunshot echoing through the cemetery.

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After my billionaire-family brother found me—the true heiress—I’d already been scavenging for eight years. He crushed my cardboard pile with his polished shoe as I gnawed on spoiled rice from a dumpster. “Aria has cancer,” he said flatly, hiding disgust. “I’ll bring you home after she’s gone.” I just nodded cheerfully. On his birthday, I spent my last money on his gift and flowers for Aria. Approaching the house, I heard him reassure her softly: “Flora will never know your cancer is fake. We can stall three, even five years. She can survive without me—but you can’t.” He blew out his candles and wished, “May Aria stay by my brother forever.” I walked away without entering. His wish came true—I didn’t have five years. Three days after I died, a viral video titled “Eighteen Years: A Cancer Patient’s Entire Life” spread online. 1 My brother had just given Aria a bracelet worth five million dollars. Her delighted laughter echoed from the grand villa. I couldn’t bring myself to disturb their happiness. The moment I stepped outside the gates, I couldn’t hold it back any longer. A mouthful of blood spewed from my lips, splattering across the gift in my hands. It was just a cheap watch, but the sight of it stained made my heart ache. I had spent three months collecting cardboard to afford it. I frantically tried to wipe the blood away, but my eyes caught a pile of cardboard next to a trash can, and professional habit kicked in. I had just bent down to grab it when a man holding a camera stepped in front of me, the lens practically shoved in my face. “‘Exploring the Underclass,’ episode three! What do you say, folks? Should we follow this little scrap-picker for the day?” The man was clean-cut and handsome, but something in his eyes made my skin crawl. “No, no, absolutely not!” I waved my hands frantically. He simply pulled out his phone and showed me a payment QR code. “Five hundred bucks for a day’s filming. I’ll pay you at the end.” Trash-picking could wait. Making money couldn’t. I scanned the code so fast I was afraid he’d take it back, tell me it was all a joke. The man lowered the camera for a second and sneered. “Her eyes sure light up at the sight of money.” I just grinned back at him like a fool. The truth is, money is useless to the dying. It’s for the living. And I didn’t have many days left. “My name is Kai,” he said. “I’m a vlogger who makes documentaries about the poor.” “You’re skin and bones. Must be starving. Let’s get you something to eat!” There was a calculating excitement in his voice as he dragged me towards the most expensive restaurant in the area. The gilded, opulent building would be the perfect backdrop to highlight a poor girl’s pathetic state, guaranteed to rack up clicks and controversy. Just as he’d hoped, I clutched the hem of my washed-out shirt, my voice timid. “That’s… that’s a place for rich people. I’ve never been inside.” A triumphant smirk played on Kai’s lips. He could already see the video going viral. Heh. I was lying. I came here all the time. Covered in grime, I’d scavenge through the dumpsters out back, watching my brother lead a princess-like Aria inside for dinner. Every night, the restaurant would throw out the leftovers. I’d be there waiting, squatting by the door for my “lucky feast.” Once, I hit the jackpot. I found a necklace in the scraps. It was a gift from my brother to Aria, her name engraved on the back. She’d tossed it because she thought the style was outdated. Shamelessly, I picked it up and put it on, admiring my reflection in the grimy mirror of a public restroom. I pretended… I pretended he had given it to me. I was still lost in the memory when Kai half-pushed, half-pulled me inside. The moment we sat down, his camera was back in my face. “You look so young. Why are you picking through trash? Don’t you have a family?” I held up two fingers, a strange pride in my voice. “I’ve had two families…” I paused, thinking of my brother, and raised a third finger. “No, wait. Three.” Kai raised an eyebrow, his tone mocking. “Three? Shouldn’t you be the happiest girl in the world then?” A lump formed in my throat. I started to tell him about my first family. “When I was five, I was sold by traffickers to an old, childless couple in the mountains.” Because I was a girl, I was cheap. The daughter of the city’s wealthiest man, sold for a mere thousand yuan. But in those backwoods villages where sons were prized above all else, being a girl was a sin. 2 My days were an endless cycle of herding sheep and finishing chores. They ate meat, but never shared any with me. All I got were potatoes. One for breakfast, one for lunch, half for dinner. When the hunger was unbearable, I’d beg from the other villagers. One man made me kowtow and call him grandpa before tossing me a stale bun. Another kicked me over and told me to get lost. At night, I slept in the sheep pen. In the winter, with no blanket, I’d press myself against the sheep for warmth. Through the low-set windows, the faces of the family I barely remembered would flicker in my tear-filled eyes. I tilted my head back, forcing the tears down, and put on a brave smile. “You know, whenever I thought I was going to freeze or starve to death, I would dream of my mom, my dad, and my brother,” I boasted. “They were so good to me. My parents would give me my favorite toys, and my brother would hold me in his arms and call me his ‘little treasure.’” The mocking smile on Kai’s face froze. The food arrived—all the restaurant’s signature dishes. He placed a piece of pork rib on my plate. “Let’s eat,” he said, his voice a little strained. I fought back the nausea churning in my stomach and shook my head with a hint of defiance. “I don’t eat meat.” Kai blinked, then burst out laughing. “A little beggar who’s a picky eater? You don’t eat meat?” I chuckled along with him, but tears welled up in my eyes. “At my adoptive parents’ house,” I began, “even their dog, Big Yellow, felt sorry for me. He would always leave me half of his food.” I was one step away from calling that dog my big brother. Thanks to him, I finally wasn’t starving anymore. To show my gratitude, I scrubbed his food bowl clean every single day until it shone. The first time I tasted meat was when my adoptive parents threw me a bone they had already gnawed clean. It was the most delicious thing I’d ever eaten. I chewed on it until my face was greasy. Then, my adoptive father smiled at me, his yellow teeth like gravestones. “Tastes good, doesn’t it? That’s Big Yellow. We got a good twenty pounds of meat off him.” The half-chewed piece of meat lodged in my throat. I clawed at my own neck, gagging and retching until I was spitting up bile. “After that,” I finished, pushing the plate away with a flourish, “I never touched meat again. Even when I could get it. I just… quit.” Kai stared at the pork rib, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “What happened after that?” “After that…” I rested my chin in my hand, my tone light. “That night, my adoptive father crept into the sheep pen. He started pulling at my clothes. Luckily, I was brave and clever. I grabbed a rake and cracked him over the head with it!” “He got really mad and said he was going to strangle me, but I squeezed through a hole in the wall that Big Yellow had dug before… you know. My dog brother saved me one last time.” I told the story as if it were nothing, but Kai’s eyes were turning red. He violently waved over a waiter. “Take all the meat dishes away! Bring us all vegetarian plates!” The waiter looked bewildered. Kai exploded. “What are you waiting for? Can’t you see this girl is starving?” I ate until I was full, patting my round belly with a satisfied burp. As we were leaving, I stopped the waiter. “Don’t throw those meat dishes out. Please pack them up for me.” At my words, the flicker of sympathy in Kai’s eyes instantly turned to suspicion. He aimed the camera at me, his voice dripping with contempt. “There it is. The act couldn’t last, could it? Tells a sob story about not eating meat, then turns around and asks for a doggy bag. What a little liar.” I ignored him, carefully scraping every last morsel of meat into the takeout containers. After the meal, Kai insisted on filming at my “home.” The car pulled up to a desolate garbage dump. In the center stood the burnt-out frame of a shack, patches of early winter snow still clinging to the broken roof tiles. That was my home. Just as I got out of the car, my phone rang. It was one of the students I sponsored. “Sister, I got the money. But it’s too much! Are you sure you have enough for yourself?” I puffed out my chest, my voice loud and proud. “Of course! Your sister is rich! I’m a billionaire’s daughter! I live in a huge mansion, drive a convertible, and eat gourmet food every day. Don’t you worry about me.” Kai looked around the foul-smelling dump, pinching his nose. “This trash heap… this is your ‘huge mansion’?” “It’s huge, isn’t it?” He kicked the tire of my three-wheeled cart, the one I used to haul trash. “And I suppose this is your ‘convertible’?” “Never gets stuck in traffic. Eco-friendly.” He scoffed. “And the ‘gourmet food’? I guess that part’s true. Scraps from a dumpster that not even a dog would touch!” “Waste not, want not,” I shot back. “Tch,” he muttered. “Too proud for your own good.” His condescending tone lasted until he glanced at my phone and saw the transfer history. The five hundred dollars he had just sent me… I had forwarded every last cent to that student. 3 His hand, holding the camera, faltered. He followed me into the burnt-out shack in silence. The inside was bare, but spotlessly clean. The walls were covered with donation certificates. The most prominent item was an old, yellowed certificate for “First Place in Class.” Kai squinted, adding up the amounts on the certificates. “Holy crap… you’ve donated a grand total of one hundred and five thousand, three hundred seventy-two dollars and sixty-three cents?” “Some of that was from my grandma,” I corrected him. “You have a grandmother?” he asked, surprised. “She was my second family.” When I was ten, I escaped my adoptive father’s clutches but nearly froze to death on the streets. An old woman who also collected scraps found me and took me in. She declared the day she found me to be my new birthday. I finally had a home again. Grandma sponsored a lot of students with the money she made from collecting scraps. That’s why, after a lifetime of doing it, she was still poor. But every day, she made sure I had milk and an egg. She said it would help me grow tall. I’d try to get her to eat some too, but she’d just shake her head and say she’d already eaten. Grandma was a liar. I knew she was living on cold, hard buns. So I became a liar, too. I’d pretend I had a small appetite, throw a little tantrum, and “waste” half my milk and egg in the trash can. She would always pick them out later and eat every last bit. “So what’s with the certificate?” Kai asked. “I didn’t go to school for a single day during the five years with my adoptive parents. But the day after Grandma found me, she enrolled me. She always used to say, ‘Oh, wouldn’t it be wonderful if our little Flora could get first place?’” I studied like my life depended on it. And on my thirteenth birthday, I did it. I got first place. I ran all the way home. When I pushed open the door, I saw a hot meal on the table and a tiny little cake. But Grandma was lying on the floor. She never woke up. The doctor said if I had brought her in just half an hour earlier, she would have been fine. “I came home at the same time every single day. That was the only day I was late… by half an hour… because I waited to get my first-place certificate.” The memory was a familiar weight, crushing my heart all over again. My name is Flora, but it feels like happiness has always been just out of my reach. “That was the only time in my life I ever got first place,” I whispered. “And she never got to see it.” “I believe that education can change your destiny. But after Grandma died, I was afraid no one would look after the students she sponsored. So I dropped out of school, took over her route, and kept picking trash to pay for their education. I just hope they can be happy one day.” “It doesn’t matter, though,” I said, waving a hand dismissively, though I wasn’t sure who I was trying to comfort. “Knowledge just turned me from a happy pig into a miserable Socrates. I think I’d rather be the pig.” Kai’s hand was shaking so much he could barely hold the camera. He opened his mouth to say something, but I suddenly remembered. I wiped my tears, grabbed a stainless-steel basin, and ran outside, banging it like a gong. “Dinner time!” From all corners of the dump, stray cats and dogs appeared, rubbing against my legs affectionately. I carefully divided the meat dishes I’d brought back into a dozen broken bowls and watched them devour the food. “Don’t fight, there’s enough for everyone.” Kai stared at me, dumbfounded. “You packed up the food… for them?” “Yep. This is my crew,” I said, beaming with pride. His face turned beet red. He fumbled for his phone. “I’m so sorry, I…” “I’m sending you another five thousand!” he blurted out, then quickly spoke to his camera. “And this isn’t for show, I swear.” My eyes lit up at the transfer notification. I started counting on my fingers. “Okay, so that means I have to film with you for ten more days.” Ten days. I should… I should still be alive for ten more days. “What about your third family?” Kai’s tone had become gentle, almost cautious. I looked up at the sky, trying to remember. “I guess they were really my first family. I was born to the wealthiest man in the city. But when I was five, my brother was being dragged away by a kidnapper. I tried to save him, and they threw me in the van instead.” Kai’s jaw dropped. “You were kidnapped because you were trying to save your brother?!” 4 He whipped out his phone and started typing furiously, quickly pulling up news articles about the city’s richest family. “The Sterling family, city’s wealthiest tycoon… your parents passed away a few years after you went missing. They said it was from heartbreak.” “But then your brother… he must have been looking for you this whole time. After all…” His voice trailed off as he came across an article about Aria. “Six years ago, your brother, Jared Sterling, adopted a girl. He named her Aria and treats her as if she were his own flesh and blood…” His voice got quieter and quieter. I gave him a sad smile. “Funny, isn’t it? My real brother found me, and he still didn’t want me.” “Then why didn’t you go find him?!” Kai yelled. I just smiled, a tear tracing a path through the grime on my cheek. “I was too scared.” Besides, I was out of time. Kai was furious. He grabbed my hand and started dragging me toward the road, determined to confront my brother. He was so enraged he forgot his camera, his hand just gripping mine tightly. For a dizzying moment, the warmth of his hand felt just like my brother’s, from a lifetime ago. As we stood before the opulent gates of the Sterling mansion, a ridiculous sliver of hope bloomed in my chest. Would he let me stay? The butler led us inside. As we approached the study, we heard Aria’s voice, whining and tearful. “But what if Flora throws a fit and demands to come back? Will you get rid of me then, brother?” Jared’s voice was warm, laced with a smile. “I’ve raised you for six years. Don’t you know me by now? I would get rid of Flora before I ever got rid of you.” “You bastard, Jared!” Kai roared, kicking the door open. The air in the room froze. Jared didn’t even bother to look up, his voice dangerously calm. “Kai, isn’t it? I’ve looked into you. A minor influencer who fakes everything for clicks. What is it you want?” Kai lunged forward, but I held him back. “The whole house is full of bodyguards. You’ll get hurt.” He gritted his teeth, pointing a shaking finger at my brother. “I might have faked things for money, but there are some lines I won’t cross. But you? You’re loaded, yet you let your own sister eat out of trash cans on the street! You’re worse than an animal!” Jared let out a cold laugh, his gaze landing on me like a shard of ice. “Is it money you want?” Before I could say no, Aria rushed forward and yanked at the necklace around my neck. “Isn’t this mine? It even has my name on it! You stole from me!” I clutched it desperately. “No, I found it!” Terrified that Jared would find out she’d thrown it away, she doubled down, screeching that I was a thief, clawing at my hands. In the struggle, my nail accidentally scratched the back of her hand. SLAP! Jared was on me in an instant, his hand connecting with my cheek in a brutal slap. “So this is what happens when you’re not raised right. No manners at all. You steal, and you think you’re justified?” I just stood there, stunned. The burning pain on my face spread straight to my heart. Kai screamed in rage and tried to throw a punch, but two bodyguards slammed him to the floor. Jared pulled out a thick wad of cash and threw it at my face. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Here, take it!” he snarled. “I told you I’d take you in after Aria was gone. Did you have to disgust us like this?” The bills fluttered down around me. A sudden, coppery taste filled my mouth. A mouthful of blood sprayed from my lips, splattering across the scattered bills in a sickeningly bright red. Oh. Maybe I don’t even have ten days left.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384497”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

In my last life, I fought stray dogs for scraps in an alley. I died there, too, with a restaurant owner’s boot against my temple for trying to steal a piece of bread. The next time I opened my eyes, I was the long-lost daughter of a family so rich they smelled like money. The girl who had taken my place—my place—looked at me with pure venom in her pretty eyes. “You’re just a stray they dragged in off the street,” she hissed. “Don’t even think about trying to steal Mom and Dad’s affection from me.” No one had ever spoken to me from that close before. The sound of it, the feeling of her breath, was a gift. I broke into a wide, happy smile and told her the honest truth. “Your voice is so beautiful.” Later, when a lie got me cornered and my new mother raised her hand to slap me, I didn’t flinch. I closed my eyes and breathed in, mesmerized. “Your hand smells so nice, Mom,” I whispered. “Even the little breeze it makes smells like perfume.” And when my new brother shoved his glass of milk at me—the milk he refused to drink—my heart swelled with a warmth I’d never known. So this is what it feels like to be cared for by a brother. But eventually, everything changed. When they saw me later, beaten and kneeling on the ground, trembling in fear before a bully, my new family finally broke. 1 The last thing I knew was the toe of a boot connecting with my temple. The pain was a white-hot flash, then nothing. A shame. I never got a single bite of that hot food. You shouldn’t steal. I groaned, my head throbbing like a drum, and blinked my eyes open. I wasn’t in the alley anymore. I was in a car. A clean one. Seeing me awake, the driver glanced in the rearview mirror, a sneer twisting his lips. I heard him mutter, “Kid from the sticks. First time in a real car and she just passes out.” A jolt of pure terror shot through me. I instinctively scrambled back, pressing myself into the corner of the leather seat. “Where—where are you taking me?” My voice was a useless, trembling thing. My whole body shook. I’d had run-ins with men like this before, men who wanted to grab you. I’d fought them off, gotten beaten for it, and had to run for my life. But when I spoke, the driver’s disdain vanished, replaced by a wide, unnerving smile. “Don’t you worry, Miss. I’m your family’s driver. The moment Mrs. Ashworth heard they’d found you, she got the whole family together. They’re all waiting for you.” The words made no sense, but then a flood of memories—memories that weren’t mine—rushed into my head, sharp and painful as needles. I was the real daughter, the one who’d been stolen and swapped at birth. The girl who had taken my place was the biological child of the couple who’d raised her. She had lived my life for over a decade. She had a beautiful name: Stella Ashworth. She had parents who adored her, a brother who protected her. She had the life of a princess, never wanting for anything. Not like the girl whose body I now inhabited. Her name was a cruel joke: Grace. Thrown away, then found by a family that used her as a workhorse. This girl, Grace, had never been to a single day of school in her life. For as long as she could remember, she’d never had a full meal. She cut grass for the pigs, washed clothes for a family that wasn’t hers, and spent every other waking moment doing back-breaking farm labor. She was sun-darkened and painfully thin, a girl folded in on herself with shame, who never spoke. When she learned the truth—that she was the long-lost daughter of a wealthy family—the shock and excitement of getting into this car had triggered a fatal heart condition. She had closed her eyes and never opened them again. The realization hit me, and tears of guilt streamed down my face. I’m so sorry. I don’t know how I got here. She was supposed to have this. She was seconds away from having the life she deserved. I huddled in the corner, my hand clamped over my mouth to stifle my sobs. I was just a pathetic little stray who’d been kicked to death over a piece of stolen food. I didn’t know how to get out of this body, but if there was any chance the real Grace could come back, maybe… maybe I could just have a few full meals before I had to leave. 2 The car glided to a stop. I stumbled out, dazed. Before me stood a house so enormous it looked like it had swallowed the sun. Three figures were waiting on the porch. A beautiful girl stood in the middle, her eyes red-rimmed and glistening with tears. As I crept closer, a boy, tall and angry-looking, wrapped his arm around her. “Don’t worry, Stella,” he said loudly, for my benefit. “No one in this house is going to hurt you.” How nice, I thought. He seems like a good brother. Then the boy—Caleb—turned his glare on me, his brow furrowing in disgust. “This can’t be my sister. She looks like some beggar they pulled off the street.” A tremor went through me. I instinctively darted behind the woman standing beside him. For some reason, I felt a pull toward her. She must be the original Grace’s mother. My lip trembled. I apologized again to the girl whose life I’d stolen. Please, just let me call her Mom once. “Mom…” I whispered. The woman, Mrs. Ashworth, flinched and subtly shifted away, breaking our proximity. Her smile was tight and awkward. “You must be Grace,” she said, nodding stiffly. “Welcome home, dear.” Hearing those words, “welcome home,” I couldn’t stop myself from nodding back, my eyes welling up with tears of gratitude. It was real. I had a home. Stella walked over, her soft, pale hand taking mine. Her smile was bright. “I guess that makes you my sister,” she said. “Welcome home, Grace.” I managed a small, shy smile in return. She seemed nice, too. As we all turned to go inside, Stella looked back at me, her round, almond-shaped eyes now hard as marbles. “A word of advice,” she whispered, her voice a sliver of ice. “Don’t get any ideas. You can’t win against me.” I just stared at her perfect face, then dropped my gaze to the ground, ashamed. “You’re so beautiful,” I said, my voice barely audible. “And your voice is so pretty.” Stella froze, momentarily thrown. Then a cynical smirk crossed her lips. “Psycho,” she muttered, and walked away. Inside, I didn’t know where to stand. The place was immaculate. The floors were so polished they reflected the lights like a mirror, making me feel even dirtier and more out of place. “Grace, you arrived so suddenly, we haven’t had time to prepare a room for you,” Stella said, rubbing her eyes as if fighting back tears. Her voice was filled with guilt. “It’s all my fault. Please don’t blame Mom. It’s okay, you can take my room. I’ll sleep in the storage closet.” Caleb’s face darkened. “Stella, don’t be ridiculous,” he snapped. “You’ve been pampered your whole life. You can’t sleep in a place like that.” He turned his disgusted gaze back to me. “You stink. You can stay in the storage room for a few nights until we figure things out.” I nodded immediately, not daring to hesitate. “Okay. Thank you.” Mrs. Ashworth had looked like she was about to say something, but seeing how compliant I was, she simply let it go. They led me to a small room on the first floor. Inside, there was a clean cot, a small nightstand with a lamp, and not much else. The air was a little musty, and the room was dark, but it was the single nicest place I had ever slept in my entire life. I turned back to them and bowed deeply from the waist. “Thank you,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “Thank you so much.” 3 They all just stared at me. Seeing their stunned silence, I worried my thanks hadn’t been enough. For a gift this great, for a roof over my head, I should be on my knees. Without another thought, I dropped to the floor, my knees hitting the polished wood with a soft thud. I pressed my forehead to the ground in a gesture of ultimate gratitude. This time, my cold, distant brother reacted. He sprang forward, almost instinctively, and hauled me to my feet. His brow was so deeply furrowed you could lose a coin in it. “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded. “Nobody asked you to do that.” I rubbed my eyes, secretly cataloging their kindness in my heart. That evening, the family gathered for dinner. My stomach was aching with hunger. Before Mrs. Ashworth could even say a word, I had grabbed a dinner roll from the basket and was stuffing it into my mouth with my bare hands. Caleb slammed his hand on the table. “Have you no manners?” he barked. “Use a fork, for God’s sake!” I picked up the heavy silver fork, my hand clumsy, and tried to spear a piece of chicken. I’d never really used utensils before. I knew I must look hideous, mangling the food on my plate. After a few failed attempts, I reluctantly set the fork down. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, the words automatic. “Please don’t make me leave.” Mrs. Ashworth’s expression, which had been one of pure distaste, softened slightly. She let out a long, heavy sigh and placed a few pieces of roasted potato on my plate herself. “Don’t just eat bread,” she said, her voice strained. “Take whatever you want. Anna, could you please bring Grace a spoon?” Stella jumped up. “I’ll get it!” she chirped, and ran to the kitchen. But as she returned, she “tripped,” sending the spoon flying through the air. It hit me squarely in the cheek, and the momentum knocked my plate off the table, where it shattered on the floor. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Grace!” Stella cried, her eyes wide and bright, as if she were waiting for a specific reaction. “I was just in such a hurry! Are you okay?” But I didn’t feel the sting on my face. All I could see was the food—the precious, perfect food—scattered across the floor among the porcelain shards. My heart broke. I dropped to my knees and began picking up the larger pieces of potato, shoving them into my mouth. Tears of panic streamed down my face. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” I sobbed. “I can still eat it. It’s clean.” The floor was clean. For years, the cleanest food I ever ate was the leftovers a restaurant owner would scrape into the trash. Most days, I ate from garbage cans. If I was lucky, I’d find a half-eaten sandwich. When the hunger got bad enough, I’d swallow my pride and fight the alley cats for the food kind strangers left out for them. I’d tried the kibble once or twice. It was crunchy, salty, and tasted like fish. My desperation must have terrified Stella. The crocodile tears she’d prepared froze in her eyes. For the first time, she looked completely at a loss. It was Mrs. Ashworth who finally broke the spell. She pulled me up from the floor, and as she lifted me, she seemed to startle at how light I was. Stella and I were the same age, yet she was a head taller than me. I was a stunted, malnourished gargoyle, a living testament to a life of unimaginable hardship. A flicker of pain crossed Mrs. Ashworth’s face before she suppressed it. She took me to the sink and gently washed my hands. Her voice was softer now. “From now on, don’t eat things off the floor. It’s not clean, and you’ll get a stomachache. You’ll rest at home for a few days, and then you can start school with your brother and sister.” I was staring, mesmerized, at her face. But when I heard the word “school,” my whole world lit up. I was going to learn how to read. 4 After a few days, I started to adjust. One morning, Caleb scowled at the glass of milk in front of him. “Milk every single day. I’m going to puke.” He made a gagging motion. I was walking past the table just then. Caleb’s eyes flicked toward me. A sly smile spread across his face. “Hey, Grace. Want some milk?” He smirked. “You can have mine.” I stopped, my heart pounding. “Really?” I asked, my voice filled with disbelief. “Thank you, Caleb!” I beamed at him. “You’re so nice.” Caleb blinked, taken aback. “I can’t tell if you’re for real or just crazy,” he muttered, shaking his head. I just gave him a shy smile, fiddling with the hem of my shirt. He pushed the tall, cold glass toward me. I swallowed hard, picked it up, and drank it all down in a few big gulps. It was sweet, with a creamy vanilla flavor. So this is what milk tasted like when it wasn’t expired. I tapped my chest, feeling a burp coming on. Just then, Stella walked by and bumped into me, jarring the burp right out. I looked at her with gratitude. My brother was nice. My sister was nice, too. Caleb was in tenth grade, while Stella and I were in eighth, in different classes. The teacher told me to stand at the front of the room and introduce myself. I hadn’t expected this. My throat went dry. I stood there, swallowing repeatedly, my mind a complete blank. The teacher tapped her desk impatiently. “Come on, now. Don’t waste everyone’s time.” Her sharp tone made me jump, and the words lodged even deeper in my throat. A few students in the back started to snicker. “Just say something! You shaking so hard you’re gonna wet yourself?” “Is that even a girl? She’s built like a twig.” “Look at her clothes. What a hick. Can’t even talk.” The insults washed over me, and I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. I’d had a few comfortable days at the Ashworths’ house, and I’d almost forgotten. This was what my life was supposed to feel like. “I’m sorr—” Before I could finish my apology, the teacher waved her hand dismissively. “Never mind. We don’t have time for this. There are two empty seats in the back. One is next to our class president, Ethan. The other is next to… Ryder,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain as she gestured toward a boy with dyed-blond hair slouched in his seat. “Just find a spot and sit down so I can start the lesson.” I scurried away from the front of the class, breathing a sigh of relief. The class president. He must be a very good person. 5 I walked quickly to the back of the room and stood beside Ethan’s desk, waiting for him to let me into the empty seat by the window. The other students watched me with malicious curiosity. Ethan, however, just smiled—a perfect, practiced smile—and graciously waved me in. He was handsome, in a clean-cut, slender way. I felt my cheeks flush. Once the class lost interest, I pulled out my brand-new textbook and ran my hand over the glossy cover again and again. I’d never been to school. I could barely recognize a few letters. But I was too afraid to admit that, too afraid to disappoint my new family. I would just have to try my best to follow along. Ten minutes into the lesson, the teacher started passing out a worksheet from the front row. “Pop quiz. You have twenty minutes.” My heart sank. When the paper landed on my desk, I stared at it in horror. Aside from the numbers, I couldn’t understand a single word. It was the longest, most excruciating twenty minutes of my life. Before, I had been ashamed of my past, of being homeless, of eating garbage. But I had never felt a shame as profound and all-consuming as this: the shame of my own ignorance. I didn’t know anything. I wrote down a few random numbers and handed in my paper. When the bell rang, I felt a desperate urge to cry. I needed to find Stella, to talk to someone. I leaned toward Ethan. “Excuse me,” I whispered. “Can I get out, please?” He didn’t move. His slender fingers turned the page of a book, his focus absolute. “Hello? I need to get by.” He still didn’t acknowledge me. It wasn’t that he couldn’t hear me. He was deliberately ignoring me. I pressed my lips together and sank back into my seat. The next class began. It didn’t take long for the teacher to grade the short quiz. She stood at the front of the room, her face a thundercloud, and began reading out the scores from highest to lowest. My head sank lower and lower, my heart pounding in my chest. Please don’t say my name… please don’t say my name… Just as I thought I might be safe, the teacher’s voice boomed through the classroom. “Grace! Stand up.” I flinched and shakily got to my feet. She slapped the blackboard with her pointer. “Nine percent! Class, our new student, Grace, has just set a new record low for this class, single-handedly dragging down our class average.” “Let’s give her a round of applause.” A smattering of clapping mixed with cruel laughter filled the room. I kept my head down, tears dripping silently onto my desk. My chest felt tight, aching with a sour pain. “I’m sorry…” I whispered. “I’m so sorry.” 6 No one was listening. The teacher made me stand for the rest of the period. I just stood by my chair, silent tears tracking paths down my dusty cheeks. Every now and then, a student would turn around to smirk at me, and I would duck my head even lower, digging my nails into my palms. When the bell finally rang, I couldn’t wait to escape. I couldn’t do this. I wasn’t meant for school. This place was terrifying. I didn’t want to come back. “Hello,” I said to Ethan, my voice hoarse. “Can you please let me out?” He ignored me again, turning to chat and laugh with the student next to him. I wiped my tears. My only option was to try and climb over his desk. But as I moved, he shot out an arm, blocking me. He looked at me, his face cold, his eyes filled with a familiar malice. “You’ll get my books dirty.” Without a word, I slowly got down on my knees. As Ethan watched with a smug, raised eyebrow, I crawled out from under his legs. “Oh my god, look! She’s crawling through the class president’s legs!” someone shouted. The classroom erupted in laughter. A few kids even came closer, laughing loudly right next to my ear. It’s okay, I told myself. It’s okay. This wasn’t new. When I was on the streets, kids my age used to throw rocks at me. When I couldn’t get away, they’d make me crawl between their legs. If they were in a good mood, they might even toss me a quarter. Just as I scrambled to my feet, I looked up and saw Stella walking past the classroom door. Our eyes met. I managed a weak, hopeful smile. It’s my sister. Stella’s eyes went wide. Then, she twisted her face away in disgust and hurried down the hall. 7 I hid in the bathroom until the final bell rang. When I got home, I locked myself in my little room and took out my new books, trying to sound out the words one by one. But I was too stupid. Nothing made sense. I was so consumed by my failure that I barely touched my food at dinner. Tears, like broken pearls, fell from my eyes and splashed into my bowl. Stella glanced at me but said nothing, returning her attention to her meal. Seeing me cry, Mrs. Ashworth grew impatient. “Did something happen at school? What is wrong with you? Say something. Crying isn’t going to solve anything.” My shoulders shook. I felt completely helpless. “I’m scared,” I sobbed. “I don’t know anything. The teacher yelled at me today. She said I was holding the whole class back. I’m so stupid. I shouldn’t be in school.” “What are you talking about?” Mrs. Ashworth asked, confused. “School is where you go to learn. If you already knew everything, there would be no point in going.” But I didn’t want to go back. That night, my anxiety and misery manifested as a raging fever. My mind grew foggy. Acting on old instincts, I slid off the cot and lay on the cool floor, hoping it would bring the fever down. Eventually, I lost consciousness. When I opened my eyes again, I was in a hospital. What happened? A nurse came in to change my IV bag. Seeing I was awake, she quickly called the Ashworths. A short while later, Mrs. Ashworth arrived. She sat gracefully in the chair beside my bed, her gaze a mixture of scrutiny and a fleeting, quickly suppressed flicker of pain. “You were burning up like that,” she said, her voice strained. “Why didn’t you call for someone?” I stared at her face, and a wave of raw, inexplicable grief washed over me. This was my mother. When you were sick, a mother was supposed to be with you. Tears welled up again, but this time they were silent. “I didn’t dare,” I whispered. Mrs. Ashworth sighed. She reached out and pulled the blanket up a little higher around my shoulders. Her voice softened. “Grace, you are my biological daughter. You’re allowed to be brave.” I blinked at her through my wet lashes, my voice small. “Does that mean… you’ll care about me?” She pressed her lips into a thin line, but after a moment, she gave a single, firm nod. My eyes lit up. “And… do you like me?” Mrs. Ashworth hesitated. Her gaze drifted over my small, sickly frame, and finally, she nodded again, slowly. That’s good. It felt like I had nothing left to wish for. 8 It was as if my body had stored up a decade of suffering, and it was all coming out at once. The fever kept returning. I was a pincushion of needles and a vessel for medicine. In my clearer moments, I would stare at the textbooks, trying to decipher their meaning. But it was no use. I had to start with the alphabet. During my hospital stay, Mr. Ashworth finally returned from a business trip abroad. He came to see me with Mrs. Ashworth. The moment I saw him, my eyes filled with tears. “Dad?” I asked, my voice choked with emotion. “Are you my dad?” Mr. Ashworth’s stern, imposing face softened almost imperceptibly. He nodded. And I broke into the biggest, happiest smile of my life. “Dad. Mom.” He hesitated for a moment, then reached out and placed his hand on top of my head. It was large and warm. The warmth of a father. I pulled the covers up over my face and cried again, ashamed of my own weakness. This was a stolen happiness. I knew I couldn’t ask for anything more. After that, even Caleb came to visit. When he found out I was learning to read because I was illiterate, he stared at me for a long, silent moment. I automatically smiled at him. “Brother, my life was really hard before. I never had a chance to learn. But I’m smart, I really am!” I could see the shock in his eyes, and maybe a flash of discomfort. He left abruptly, but returned a while later with a stack of colorful picture books. By the time I was discharged, a month had passed. Our shared birthday was approaching, Stella’s and mine. Mrs. Ashworth decided I should continue resting at home until after the party. On the day of the celebration, Stella was dressed in a breathtaking princess gown. Her hair, dark and glossy, fell in perfect, natural waves around her shoulders. She was the very picture of a fairy-tale princess. I looked at her, and even though I knew I could never be as beautiful, my heart filled with joy for her. Mrs. Ashworth had a dress for me, too, but I was so small and thin that it hung off my frame. The only small victory was that my time with the Ashworths had allowed my skin to grow paler, and the years of grime had finally washed away, revealing a subtle resemblance in my features to Mrs. Ashworth. As was tradition, the house was filled with guests. The adults made small talk, and Caleb hung out with a group of boys his own age. Stella, naturally, was the center of attention, surrounded by a crowd of admirers wishing her a happy birthday. “Stella, who’s that?” one of the girls asked, nodding in my direction. “The maid’s daughter?” Stella shot me a complicated look but didn’t answer. I just smiled at them and retreated to a quiet corner to eat a slice of the sweet, wonderful cake. A girl who was clearly older than us sidled up to me. She looked me up and down, a sly smile playing on her lips. “My name’s Chloe,” she said. “You’re the real daughter, right?” She leaned in closer, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Aren’t you jealous? They only pay attention to Stella.” I shook my head quickly. “Stella is lovely. Of course they love her.” 9 Chloe stared at me as if I were an idiot. “This was all supposed to be yours,” she pressed. “How can you not hate her? She stole your parents.” I felt a pang of discomfort. “Please don’t say that. Stella is my sister.” Chloe looked genuinely speechless this time, as if she’d run out of ways to provoke me. Across the room, Stella was opening her presents. Someone had given her a pair of beautiful ballet slippers. She put them on and, to the delight of the crowd, began to dance. She was graceful and light, twirling her way up the grand staircase to the second-floor landing. She finished with a deep, dramatic bow to the applauding guests below. I clapped along with everyone else. She’s so talented. Unlike me. I had nothing. No skills, no dreams. I decided to slip away to my little room. As I passed the second floor, I saw Chloe appear behind Stella. She was clapping, but as she did, she gave Stella a subtle, deliberate push. My blood ran cold. My body moved before my brain could process it. My sister is in danger! I lunged forward. Stella fell backward, hard, right into my arms. The impact sent us both tumbling down the grand staircase. The room filled with gasps and screams. By the time Mrs. Ashworth pushed through the crowd, Stella and I were in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. She rushed over and immediately gathered Stella into her arms, checking her from head to toe for injuries. Then, her eyes landed on me. I was about to say I was okay when the sharp sting of a slap exploded across my face. “Grace!” Mrs. Ashworth shrieked, her voice filled with venom. “After all this time pretending, you finally showed your true colors! You couldn’t stand to see Stella happy, could you?” “I told you again and again that Stella will always be my daughter! I raised her for sixteen years! You’ve only been here a few months! I can’t believe I actually thought you were a sweet, innocent girl. How could you push your sister down the stairs?!”

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To celebrate my sister-in-law, Chloe, hitting a million followers, I took her to The Spire, my husband’s new rooftop restaurant. It was supposed to be a triumph—for her, for him, for us. We were halfway through a bottle of champagne, the city lights of New York glittering below us like a fallen constellation. Chloe was live, her phone propped against a breadbasket, a ring light casting a perfect angelic glow on her face as she chatted with her followers. I was taking a picture of her, a celebratory shot against the skyline, when a shadow fell over our table. A hand shot out, snatched my phone, and before I could even process what was happening, plunged it into the silver ice bucket chilling our champagne. We both stared, speechless, as the screen flickered and died with a sickening fizz. Then came the voice, sharp and grating as shattered glass. “All you do is tap-tap-tap on that damn phone! Trying to brand yourself as some kind of debutante to trap a rich man, is that it? Didn’t your mother ever teach you to have some goddamn shame?” Chloe and I just looked at each other, then back at my drowned phone, now a useless brick submerged beside a seventy-dollar bottle of Veuve Clicquot. “Are you out of your mind?” I said, slowly getting to my feet. My voice was low, cold. “What I do with my phone has nothing to do with you.” The woman’s smirk widened, her arrogance radiating off her like cheap perfume. “I’m the manager here,” she snapped. “You’ve been taking up this table for forty minutes. That gives me every right to tell you to get the hell out.” She gestured around the opulent dining room. “I can’t stand girls like you. Broke as a joke, but you’ll max out a credit card to play dress-up for the ‘gram. You’re nothing but wannabe mistresses.” I was so stunned I couldn’t speak. I didn’t know my husband, Grayson, had a second wife. Her eyes, framed in severe, black eyeliner, glittered with a poisonous satisfaction. She pulled out her own phone. “You just wait. My husband will be here any minute to deal with two classless little bitches like you.” 1 She crossed her arms, a smug sense of victory plastered on her face. “Don’t think I don’t know your type. You see a place like this, pull out your cheap phone, and start snapping pictures for clout. It’s pathetic. You’re trash.” When we remained silent, she grew even bolder. With a sneer, she fished my dead phone from the ice bucket, water streaming from its ports, and tossed it onto the marble floor. Then, she deliberately brought the needle-thin heel of her glittery pump down on the screen, shattering it with a definitive crunch. “What’s the matter? Nothing to say?” she taunted. “Cat got your tongue? Hit a little too close to home, did I? I see girls like you every single year, trying to fake it till you make it. This is a high-end restaurant, not a goddamn brothel!” Chloe glanced at me, her eyes wide. Her other phone, the one she’d been using for her livestream, was still on, the camera broadcasting this entire nightmare to thousands of people. Her comments section was exploding. [omg what is happening?! Who is this psycho??] [That’s The Spire, the new Blackwood Holdings restaurant. It’s the hottest spot in NYC right now. That woman is the manager, I’ve seen her before.] [A manager can’t act like that! This is insane!] The comments flew by in a blur. Chloe, whose personality was naturally on the softer side, fumbled for her phone. Her fingers flew across the screen, her composure crumbling as she typed in the Blackwood family group chat. [Dad, Mom, something crazy is happening. This woman at Grayson’s restaurant is attacking me and Claire!] Then she tagged Grayson. [@Grayson Blackwood get to the restaurant NOW!] Getting no immediate reply, she tugged on my sleeve, her voice a small, frightened whisper. “Claire…” I patted her hand, a silent promise that I would handle this. Then I lifted my gaze, my eyes locking with the manager’s. “If you’re sick, I suggest you see a doctor. Don’t stand here barking at my sister and me like a stray dog.” Her eyes, heavy with that exaggerated eyeliner, narrowed. A flicker of raw jealousy crossed her face before her words turned even sharper. “Me, barking?” She laughed, a short, ugly sound. “Oh, I’ve seen your kind a million times. You build this fake little princess persona online, get an army of thirsty guys to worship you. You love it when men kiss your feet, don’t you? But you can’t stand it when someone calls you out on your bullshit.” I closed my eyes and took a slow, deep breath. I refused to argue with her. You can’t reason with an animal. “Right now,” I said, my voice dangerously quiet, my eyes snapping open to pin her with a glare. “Go get the owner. Your supposed husband. Bring him here.” I said nothing more, letting the command hang in the air. My gaze drifted over her, cataloging the cheap dress and the overly aggressive makeup. But then, my eyes snagged on the necklace resting against her collarbone. The Ocean Star. In that instant, the brilliant, sun-drenched afternoon outside the panoramic windows seemed to cloud over. A bone-deep chill washed over me, cold and sickening. The Ocean Star was a set. Two identical necklaces, each featuring a sapphire so deep and blue it seemed to hold the sea itself. Grayson had bought both of them at a Sotheby’s auction earlier this year. He’d fastened one around my neck himself. The other, he’d placed carefully back in its velvet box and locked it in our safe. “When we have a daughter,” he’d said, his voice soft as he kissed my temple, “this will be my first gift to her. You and she will have matching ones.” Back then, I had been floating in the warm, blissful sea of our love. I thought I had married the perfect man, a man who already adored the daughter we hadn’t even conceived yet. But now, seeing that promise, that symbol of our future family, hanging around another woman’s neck… it was like watching a blade slice through the beautiful dream I’d been living in. The thought of her powerful man seemed to inflate the manager’s ego even further. Her chin lifted. “You’re clearly out of your depth, sweetie. When my husband gets here, you two will be lucky if you only get thrown out of the city.” Chloe leaned closer, her voice trembling. The woman’s unhinged aggression had terrified her. “Claire,” she whispered, “the owner she’s talking about… it’s not Grayson, is it?” I took another shaky breath but couldn’t answer. It felt like a giant hand was squeezing my heart, cutting off all the air. Realization dawned on Chloe’s face, followed by a surge of protective anger. She grabbed her phone again, her thumbs flying across the family chat. [Mom, Dad, you need to get to Grayson’s new restaurant RIGHT NOW. If you don’t, our family is going to fall apart.] She took a photo of the manager, the Ocean Star necklace clearly visible, and posted it directly in the chat, tagging her brother again. [@Grayson Blackwood, WHO IS THIS WOMAN?! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?!] She didn’t try to hide what she was doing. She wanted—no, she needed—for this to be some kind of terrible mistake. My mother-in-law’s reply was instantaneous. [That bastard! Claire, you tell Claire not to be afraid. The Blackwood family will only ever recognize HER as our daughter-in-law.] But as Chloe waited, her phone remained silent. No reply from Grayson. Our escalating conflict had now drawn the attention of the entire restaurant. I had no desire to be a public spectacle, the star of some cheap circus act, so I fell silent. But others were more than happy to join the fray. An older woman, who I assumed was the manager’s sister, materialized at her side and glared at us. “You heard her! Get out! And delete every single picture you took on your way out. This establishment doesn’t allow trash like you to use it as a backdrop!” The older woman then turned to the manager. “Don’t you worry, sis. I’m here. I won’t let anyone cause trouble for you. Besides, your man will be here any second.” At the mention of Grayson, a sickeningly sweet, triumphant smile bloomed on the manager’s face. It was grotesque. It was blinding. Her confidence surging, she turned back to us, her voice dripping with venom. “You know what? I’ve changed my mind. Just leaving isn’t enough. I want you to post a public apology online. I want you to admit to everyone that you’re nothing but pathetic, clout-chasing gold diggers.” 2 A laugh escaped my lips. Not of anger, but of sheer, unadulterated absurdity. It was as if I had stumbled into a theater of the bizarre. I truly couldn’t comprehend how a person so grotesquely delusional could exist in the world. Chloe, who had just started college, who had been coddled and adored her entire life, had never had a finger pointed at her in accusation, let alone been subjected to such a vile, public tirade. The tears that had been welling in her eyes finally spilled over, streaming down her pale cheeks. She was utterly devastated. The sight of her tears seemed to enrage the manager even more. “Cry! Go on, cry!” she shrieked. “That’s all you women know how to do, isn’t it? Use your tears as a weapon to manipulate men! Am I wrong? Aren’t you gold diggers? It’s disgusting!” Suddenly, she let out a piercing scream that nearly shattered the crystal glasses on the tables. “Ah! You little slut! Don’t you dare get your filthy tears on that plate! I swear to God, who knows what kind of diseases you have!” She took two dramatic steps back, as if we were lepers. “Post the apology now!” she commanded. “And you’ll pay this restaurant a hundred thousand dollars for sanitation fees! You’re filthy!” At the mention of the money, the last bit of color drained from Chloe’s face. She looked like she was about to collapse. I closed my eyes. I had no desire to engage with an idiot, but that didn’t mean I was going to let this raving lunatic walk all over us. I placed a reassuring hand on Chloe’s arm, but a hot surge of adrenaline was already coursing through me. My face was a thundercloud as I rounded the table. I walked straight up to the manager and, with all the force I could muster, slapped her hard across the face. The crisp, sharp sound echoed through the suddenly silent restaurant. Every diner, every waiter, froze. Mouths hung open as heads swiveled in our direction. In the livestream’s comment section, the frantic chatter came to an abrupt halt. Chloe seized the moment, her phone angled just right, transcribing the manager’s every vicious word into the family group chat. My mother-in-law’s response was immediate and furious. [Who is this blind, worthless piece of trash! Chloe, protect your sister-in-law! Your father and I are on our way!] [And your brother, who knows what the hell he’s doing! He’s not even looking at his phone!] Chloe wiped a tear from her eye, a small measure of relief washing over her. The manager, stunned by the blow, took a moment to recover. She cradled her flaming cheek, her eyes filled with a mixture of shock and pure hatred. In her twisted fantasy, I was supposed to be the one groveling, posting apologies, and scurrying away in shame. “You hit me?” she screeched. “You bitch! Who the hell do you think you are to lay a hand on me?” Her voice climbed to a hysterical pitch. “Do you have any idea who my husband is? The president of the Blackwood Holdings! I am the future matriarch of the Blackwood family!” The sound was so shrill it made my ears ring. I wrinkled my nose in disgust. Her gaze flickered between my face and Chloe’s, and her fury seemed to intensify. It was obvious she despised women who looked like us—the type she probably labeled as “the innocent type.” In her mind, that look was a weapon, a master key for hopping from one rich man’s bed to another. The thought sent her spiraling into a nonstop, vitriolic rant. “You two bitches! You dare to touch me on my own turf? I saw you the second you walked in. You didn’t even touch your food, just sat there snapping photos with your phone for forty damn minutes!” she spat. “This is an elite establishment. Our tables are valuable. This isn’t your personal pig trough!” Her voice was loud enough to carry across the entire dining room. “I’ve seen plenty of shameless whores like you. You sleep your way to the top and you’re probably riddled with syphilis!” At that, a murmur rippled through the other diners. They looked at us with a newfound disgust. In today’s world, the mention of STDs is a potent, fear-inducing weapon. And these people, hearing only one side of the story, were easily swayed. “Oh my God, if they have something like that, they shouldn’t be out in public! Don’t infect the rest of us!” “Exactly! The manager’s right. Who takes pictures for forty minutes straight? And look at how they’re dressed, so revealing. They’re obviously trying to seduce someone!” “Manager, get them out of here! And bring me a new set of silverware! A sanitized one!” Hearing the crowd turn in her favor, the manager’s expression grew even more smug. She looked at us as if we were a contamination she was about to heroically expunge. I took a deep breath, my sharp gaze sweeping over the most vocal of the complainers. “First,” I said, my voice cutting through the noise, “is there a rule in this restaurant that forbids photography? Is there a time limit on dining? We are paying customers. This time is ours.” “Second,” I continued, my voice dripping with contempt, “are you all just going to believe whatever she says? Do you have no judgment of your own? You’re nothing but a flock of mindless sheep.” A few people had the decency to look ashamed, clearing their throats and looking away. Internet trolls and real-life bullies are the same. They only prey on those who won’t fight back. The moment you strike, they retreat into their shells like cowards. 3 Seeing that I dared to talk back, the manager’s face contorted with rage. “This is Jessica Fuller’s restaurant! If I say you broke the rules, you broke the rules! What are you going to do about it?” My eyes suddenly fixed on the name tag pinned to her chest. For a moment, the world seemed to tilt on its axis. [Jessica Fuller, Restaurant Manager.] Jessica… I’d heard that name before. Whispered in Grayson’s sleep. It was a few months ago. He’d held me for a long time after we made love, and long after his breathing had evened out, I lay awake, restless. In the dead of the night, I heard him murmur something in his sleep. “Jess… Jess…” It was so faint I wasn’t sure I’d heard it right. The next morning, as he was fastening his tie in front of the mirror, I asked him about it. His hands froze for a fraction of a second before he quickened his movements, his fingers suddenly clumsy. “You must have misheard me, honey,” he said. He’d skipped breakfast, muttering something about an early meeting at the office before hurrying out the door. I hadn’t thought much of it then. But now, in this garish, overwrought restaurant, the final puzzle piece clicked into place. Jess… So intimate. So familiar. The hand at my side clenched into a fist so tight my nails dug into my palm. An icy draft seemed to snake its way into my chest, a cold so deep it felt like it was freezing me from the inside out. Jessica’s anger continued to boil. She snatched a glass of red wine from a nearby table and hurled it at us. Before Chloe or I could react, the dark liquid splashed across our clothes, staining us in a humiliating splatter of crimson. As we stood there, stunned and dripping, she lunged forward. Smack. Smack. Two sharp slaps, one for me and one for Chloe, landed on our faces. The restaurant was now so quiet that her shrill, piercing insults were the only thing you could hear. “You bitch! You still dare to run your mouth? I’m going to teach you a lesson today!” I slowly worked my jaw, tasting the faint, coppery tang of blood in my mouth. And then, I smiled. “What the hell are you smiling at, you psycho—” CRACK! I swung my hand back, putting every ounce of my strength into the blow. I grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back so she was forced to look at me. “Who do you think you are, touching me?” I snarled, my voice low and menacing. “You want to die? I’ll be happy to send you on your way.” While she was still reeling, I reached over to our table, grabbed the plate of black pepper spaghetti, and slammed it upside down onto her head. A strange, dead silence fell over the room. Even Chloe was staring, her eyes wide as she swallowed hard. She discreetly pulled out her phone. [Mom, Dad, Claire is a total badass, but you need to hurry. Her mood is… not good. I think the woman who’s bullying us might be…] She glanced at the family chat. Grayson was still silent. Chloe had a sinking feeling that a storm was about to break over the Blackwood family. Jessica stood frozen, feeling the greasy, sticky sauce and the faint, peppery smell overwhelming her senses. She tentatively raised a hand to her head, pulling away a clump of lukewarm, slimy pasta. “AHHHHHH!” Her shriek was terrifying, a sound of pure horror and rage. She clawed at her hair, flailing like a madwoman. “You bitch!” she screamed, her face turning a blotchy, furious red. “I’m going to fucking kill you today!” Her chest heaved as she fought for breath. She spun around and barked an order at a group of stone-faced men in black suits standing by the entrance. “You! Get these two ignorant little sluts and tie them up!” A dozen bodyguards immediately moved toward us. Jessica’s face was a mask of triumphant hatred, her eyes venomous. “These men were assigned to me by my husband, for my protection. You two whores are dead today.” She gestured at the advancing men. “Get them!” I shoved Chloe behind me, shielding her as I faced down the pack of thugs. “You work for Grayson Blackwood, right?” I warned them. “I’m telling you, I am—” “You are shit!” Jessica shrieked, her rage escalating at the mention of his name. “So you even know my husband’s name, you bitch! You really did your homework before trying to sink your claws into him, didn’t you? I knew I was right about you!” The bodyguards paused, a flicker of uncertainty in their eyes, but it didn’t matter. Their orders were clear: protect the restaurant, and protect Jessica Fuller. With grim determination, they lunged at me. 4 Chloe was trembling, fumbling with her phone as she tried to make a call, her voice shaking uncontrollably. “Dad! Mom! When are you getting here? They’re beating us up, please, oh God—ah!” Before she could finish, a bodyguard snatched the phone from her hand and smashed it on the floor, where it shattered into a dozen pieces. Another guard backhanded her across the face, shoving her to the ground and pinning her there. She couldn’t move. “Grayson Blackwood is my brother!” she cried out. “Let me go!” But her words were muffled as a hand clamped over her mouth, her desperate pleas lost in the chaos. “Chloe!” My heart leaped into my throat. In that split second of distraction, one of the bodyguards drove his foot deep into my stomach. The force of the blow sent me flying backward. I crashed into a table, the sound of splintering wood and shattering glass exploding around me. A searing pain shot through my back as shards of broken glass sliced through my dress and into my skin. The wounds were deep; I could feel warm blood instantly soaking the fabric. My face went pale with pain. Before I could recover, a guard hauled me to my feet, kicked the back of my knees, and forced me into a humiliating kneel before Jessica. My eyes were locked on her. If looks could kill, this vile woman would have died a thousand times over. She stepped forward and slapped me again, her long nails scraping a raw, red line down my cheek. “You still dare to glare at me?” She bent down, grabbed my hair, and slammed my head against the hard marble floor. “Bitch!” she hissed. “You dare to cross me? I’m going to fix your promiscuous, little ass today!” She then picked up a serving dish of Szechuan fish from a nearby table and, with a vicious grin, poured the entire thing over my head. The oily, spicy broth and chunks of fish cascaded down my hair and face. I shut my eyes, struggling and cursing, my voice growing hoarse. “Jessica, I swear to God, I am going to destroy you!” She dropped the empty platter and looked down at me, dripping and defeated, with utter satisfaction. She pinched my chin, her fingers digging into my skin. “Such a tough one, aren’t you? Don’t worry. When my husband gets here, you two sluts won’t have a future left in this city.” From the floor, Chloe was sobbing. “You just wait! When my parents get here, they’re going to make you pay!” Jessica’s contemptuous gaze shifted to her. “Oh, I almost forgot about the younger one.” She strode over and slapped Chloe, a jealous rage flashing in her eyes as she looked at Chloe’s perfect, unblemished skin. “So young and already so experienced with men. Are your parents dead? Who taught you to be such a little seductress?” “You love taking pictures, right?” Jessica sneered. “Let’s take a few of you looking like the pathetic whore you are.” She grabbed Chloe’s discarded phone from the floor. Her eyes widened as she saw the screen. “You bitch! You were still live-streaming?” She ended the stream before turning the camera on Chloe’s terrified, tear-streaked face, snapping picture after picture. “You like the camera so much? Well, here you go!” Chloe was just a girl. She had never known this kind of cruelty. Her eyes were wide with pure, undiluted despair. “Chloe!” A primal, furious scream tore from my throat. Fueled by a surge of pure rage, I broke free from the guard holding me down. I tackled Jessica, throwing her to the floor and straddling her, my hands flying as I slapped her again and again and again. “Ah! Ah!” Jessica shrieked in pain and shock. The bodyguards, stunned for a second, finally reacted, kicking me off her. “Ms. Fuller, are you alright?” the lead bodyguard asked, his voice shaking. He was dead. Mr. Blackwood would have his head for this. His panic mounted, and he turned his vicious gaze back to me, crumpled on the floor. He stalked forward, grabbing my hair, ready to strike again. “I am Grayson Blackwood’s wife, Claire Blackwood,” I spat out, my voice raw but clear. “I’m the daughter of the Sterling Group. If you dare touch me again, you will regret it.” My certainty gave him pause. His hand froze in mid-air. But Jessica, scrambling to her feet, just laughed hysterically. “A gold digger with delusions of grandeur! His wife? I’m Grayson’s wife!” “Teach her a lesson!” she screamed at the bodyguard. “Rip that lying mouth of hers right off her face!” Just then, a commotion erupted at the entrance of the restaurant. The lead bodyguard looked over and immediately straightened up, his demeanor shifting to one of fawning subservience. “Mr. Blackwood! You’re finally here, sir!”

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