Category: English

I’m on a family reality show with my pop-star brother, and the producers want us to “open our hearts” and resolve our deepest issues on camera. Suddenly, my brother, who’s usually a literal ray of sunshine, buries his face in his hands and starts sobbing, accusing me of being cold and distant our entire childhood. As the cameras zoom in and I can feel the tidal wave of online hate about to crash over me, I try to explain, my face a mask of pure exasperation. “You spent your days setting off firecrackers in cow pies with Jay-Jay from next door, then came home wanting to cuddle. How exactly was I supposed to get close to you?!” My brother blinks, stunned for a second. “But you gave away Snowflake, my favorite dog…” That leaves me even more speechless. “You used to French-kiss that dog! You insisted she was a girl and that you were going to marry her. What, does every female on the planet have to marry you?” Leo: “…” The A-list star beside me is doubled over with laughter. I shoot him a glare. “Don’t act like you weren’t part of it, Jay-Jay.” 1 I was in the middle of signing a multi-million dollar contract when my brother’s frantic call came through. “Vivian!” “What is it?” A nerve in my temple twitched. Anytime Leo actually called me by my name instead of some ridiculous nickname, it meant trouble. His voice turned syrupy sweet. “So, next week I’m supposed to be on this reality show about family bonds, but Mom and Dad are off on their European tour, so I was hoping my favorite big sister could fill in…” After Leo started college, he was scouted by an agency and became a pop star. I never expected the little brat who used to drive me insane would actually carve out a niche for himself in the entertainment industry with some serious talent. I gestured for my assistant to close the office door and shut him down flat. “No. I’m busy.” “Wait, wait, wait! Viv, you remember Everett, right? Everett Song?” “Everett?” “Yeah. He’s the main investor behind the show, and he’s also a special guest. They only asked me to join last minute because another guest dropped out. Come on, Viv, can’t you just spare a few days? For old times’ sake? He’s helped me out a few times in the industry, you know.” Everett Song was our neighbor when we were kids. We lost touch after he moved abroad for school, only keeping up with the occasional text. All I knew was that he was now an A-list star. Listening to Leo’s relentless pleading, I realized I wasn’t getting out of this. My eyes drifted to the file on my desk. I raised an eyebrow. “Fine, I’ll do it. On one condition. You get me Everett Song for my company’s new product launch.” “What? You want Everett to be the face of a new lipstick line?” A small smile played on my lips. “We’re not exactly close anymore. If I ask him, he could say no. So, I’m leaving it to you.” Leo went quiet for a moment before muttering under his breath, “He’d probably be more likely to say yes if you asked him…” “What was that?” “I said, ‘Consider it done!’” His voice was dripping with fake enthusiasm. “See you at the show, Viv!” After he hung up, I tapped my fingers on the tabletop. A few days on a reality show in exchange for an endorsement from an A-list star? That was a hell of a deal. 2 When the day came, I cleared my schedule and headed straight for the studio. The show was a live broadcast featuring three pairs of family members, plus Everett as a special guest. The premise was simple: play some games, do some activities, and strengthen their bonds. With an A-lister like Everett on board, the online hype was through the roof. [OMG, Everett’s first solo project as a producer! I’m so here for it!] [I heard Leo Wen is bringing his sister. Is this the one he said used to beat him up all the time? LOL.] [Evan Chen, the award-winning actor, is bringing his daughter on a show for the first time! I can’t wait!] The studio was massive, and I couldn’t find Leo anywhere. “Ms. Wen?” a sugary voice called out. I turned. Oh, Meagen Kane. Another one of the guests. Her eyes curved into a crescent shape. “I can’t believe I’m running into you here. What a coincidence.” “Hmm,” I said, sliding off my sunglasses. “My name is Vivian. And yes, quite the coincidence.” “I heard Vivida Cosmetics is looking for a new face for your latest campaign,” she said, her smile never wavering as she pulled a delicate-looking boy to her side. “This is my brother, Caleb. He’s a rising pop star too. If you have an opportunity, you should really keep us in mind.” I looked Meagen up and down, tucking my sunglasses into the collar of my blouse. The irony was almost suffocating. Three years ago, I had just spun off from my family’s corporation to launch Vivida Cosmetics. The face I wanted for my brand, more than anyone, was the up-and-coming starlet Meagen Kane. She had an innocent look, a sweet-girl-next-door vibe. Her fame wasn’t at its peak, but I believed the brand and the ambassador could grow together. To show how serious I was, I went to meet her myself, armed with a detailed brand proposal and a full set of samples. She’d taken one look at them and tossed the samples on the floor, her face twisted in a sneer. “Are you kidding me? Every no-name brand thinks they can get an endorsement now? Who knows if this junk will make my face break out. Get lost. Don’t waste my time.” Three years later, Vivida went from an unknown startup to a household name in cosmetics. Meagen Kane? Still a B-list starlet, treading water. But I had to give her credit for her nerve. A small laugh escaped me. “A no-name brand like ours couldn’t possibly afford stars of your caliber.” Meagen’s smile froze. Before I could turn to leave, she grabbed my arm, her eyes welling up. “You might have misunderstood me back then. I never meant to—” “Vivian.” A cool, magnetic voice cut her off. Everett Song was standing there in a loose white button-down, his broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist. His handsome, almost aloof features were softened by a hint of a smile. “There you are.” For a second, my mind went blank. He was so much more striking in person than on screen. I found my voice. “I just got here. I was looking for—” “Mr. Song,” Meagen interrupted, a single tear clinging to her lashes. “I’m so happy to be a part of your show. Thank you so much for this opportunity.” I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Everett glanced at her and gave a curt nod. “The dressing rooms are over there. The AC is on if you need to cool down.” “Oh?” He ignored her, his eyes finding mine again, a genuine warmth in them. “Long time no see.” 3 Everett led me to where Leo was waiting, and after a few brief pleasantries, the show began. The lineup was set: Leo and me, Meagen and Caleb Kane, and the veteran actor Evan Chen with his four-year-old daughter, Lily. And, of course, our special guest, Everett. The host kicked things off with a beaming smile. “Welcome to our first segment—‘The Unspoken Word’! This is a chance for our families to open their hearts and share things they’ve never been able to say.” “First up, let’s welcome Meagen and Caleb Kane!” It was a classic, tear-jerking setup. Meagen and Caleb held hands, gazing at each other with tear-filled eyes as they recounted their journey from a difficult childhood to their careers. One moment, the brother was talking about his sister’s sacrifices; the next, the sister was weeping over the hardships he’d endured. The sentimental background music swelled, and they broke into full-blown sobs. I propped my chin on my hand, stifling a yawn. Leo, munching on a bag of sunflower seeds beside me, whispered, “So fake.” I nodded in agreement. “They’re really laying it on thick. I bet she beat the crap out of him when they were kids.” Leo choked on a seed. The live comments, however, were a waterfall of emotion. [I’m crying. Seriously, their bond is so touching. They’ve had it so tough in this industry, always supporting each other…] [Did you see the camera pan to Vivian and Leo? Their expressions are priceless, lol.] [Forget them, has anyone noticed Everett? Why does he keep looking to his right? Who’s sitting there?] A poke on my left arm. I turned to meet Everett’s clear, light-brown eyes. “What?” A corner of his mouth lifted. He leaned in, his voice a low murmur. “I heard you want me to be the face of your new product line.” On stage, Meagen was still in the middle of a dramatic, tear-stained monologue. I blinked, caught off guard by the question. Recovering quickly, I leaned closer too. “That’s right. It’s a new lipstick collection called ‘First Love.’ I think you’d be perfect for it.” “And why is that?” He was so close I could see the natural curve of his eyelashes. “You’ve got the star power, and your public image is basically America’s sweetheart,” I said, all business. “But most importantly, you’re incredibly handsome. You’re the perfect fit.” And your fans have incredible purchasing power. He let out a soft chuckle, the sound vibrating in his chest. “Then why not ask me to be the brand ambassador for the whole company?” I was momentarily speechless. “Can’t afford you.” There were better ways to spend that kind of money, like on R&D. “I’ll give you a discount.” “What?” As I stared, stunned, his hand, all long fingers and elegant knuckles, reached for my collar. For a split second I froze, then instinctively flinched away. The stool I was on wobbled, and I felt myself tipping backward, but his hand shot out and grabbed my arm, steadying me. Everett held up the sunglasses he’d plucked from my collar. “These were about to fall.” “…” I’d forgotten they were even there. “Thanks,” I mumbled, reaching for them. “I’ll hold on to them for you,” he said, smoothly tucking them into the pocket of his shirt. “You’re up next.” “Huh?” 4 I glanced at the stage and saw Meagen and Caleb back in their seats. Leo was already up there, microphone in hand. He had just finished introducing himself and was now introducing me. “My sister is three years older than me. She runs her own company and is usually swamped with work. We actually haven’t seen each other in three months, so I’m grateful to this show for giving us a chance to finally talk.” I watched him on stage—so confident and bright, a far cry from the goofy kid I grew up with. A small smile touched my lips as I focused on what he was saying. “When we were little, our parents were always busy, so my sister and I spent most of our childhood at our grandparents’ house. We were together for eight or nine years… I really miss those days.” “I love my sister so, so much. Even if…” His voice cracked, and his eyes instantly reddened. “Even if she doesn’t love me that much, I’ll always love her.” A hush fell over the set. I was dumbfounded. I turned to Everett. “Is this… part of the show? His acting is pretty convincing.” Everett looked just as surprised. “No. This show is completely unscripted.” Me: “???” The host guided me onto the stage. By now, Leo had gone through several tissues, his eyes puffy and red. He looked like a kicked puppy. The online comments were flooded with messages of sympathy. And I just stood there, completely lost. “What is going on?” “I didn’t want to say any of this, but once that sappy music started playing…” Leo’s crying escalated into a high-pitched wail. “I just couldn’t hold it in!” “I feel like I’ve been the only one putting in any effort our whole lives! You never wanted to be close to me, and I was always chasing after you like a lost puppy, but you couldn’t stand me! You didn’t like me, you ignored me…” The host rushed over with a whole box of tissues, and Leo grabbed it, letting out a series of heart-wrenching sobs. The viewers online were in an uproar. [My heart is breaking for Leo! I wish I were his sister!] [What kind of sister is she?! If my brother were Leo Wen, I’d spoil him rotten!] [So what if she owns a company?! Just cut ties with her! A sister like that is worse than no sister at all!] I was speechless. Seriously? Leo sniffled a few more times. “But I never blamed you, Vivian. Really.” I looked at him, my expression a mixture of confusion and pity. Yep, my brother was a certified idiot. “You know, I think your memory might be a little fuzzy. Why don’t I jog it for you?” My brows knitted together in disgust. “When you were a kid, you spent all day with Jay-Jay from next door, setting off firecrackers in cow pies. Then you’d come home, not even showered, and try to hug me. How exactly was I supposed to get close to you?!” “What?” Leo’s tears stopped mid-stream. I continued without mercy. “You chased me around like a maniac every single day. Was I not allowed to run away?” The sentimental music screeched to a halt. The live chat froze. Leo, momentarily stunned, tried to defend himself. “But… you gave away Snowflake, my favorite dog! I raised her from a puppy!” That just made me even more exasperated. “You used to French-kiss that dog! And you kept insisting she was a girl and that you were going to marry her. What, does every female on the planet have to marry you?” “Snowflake would take off running the second she saw you. You didn’t just chase me; you chased the dog too.” “Have you forgotten about the three rounds of rabies shots?!” At that, Leo fell completely silent, his face blank. The memories were clearly flooding back. Meanwhile, thinking about our childhood was just making me angrier. He was nothing but trouble! Just as I was about to really let him have it, a low chuckle cut through the tension, clear as a bell. 5 I froze, my gaze snapping over to Everett. His lips were curved into a wide, unrestrained grin. I’d almost forgotten. He was the real mastermind behind all of it! He was the one who supplied my brother with firecrackers for the cow pies, acting as his military strategist. He was the one who encouraged Leo to bring home tadpoles, which turned into a house full of toads just to scare me. He’d corrupted my brother, then conveniently disappeared overseas. It took me years to beat some sense back into Leo. And now Everett had the nerve to laugh? I shot him a look, mouthing silently, “As if I wasn’t talking about you, Jay-Jay?” His smile faltered. He cleared his throat, raising a fist to his lips to cover a cough. The sound drew everyone’s attention, and a camera swiveled right to him. Everett put on his best official smile and delivered a summary. “It just goes to show, no childhood punishment is ever wasted.” The live comments exploded. [I am on my KNEES! I’m so sorry, I completely misjudged Vivian!] [LMAO, Vivian is literally me. I couldn’t stand my little brother when we were kids, and he was so clingy!] [Compared to this, the Kanes’ whole teary-eyed act feels so scripted now…] Leo and I returned to our seats, his eyes now shining with a newfound innocence. “Hehe, Viv, I really thought you hated me all this time…” “You’re an idiot.” Next up were Evan Chen and his daughter. Little Lily, in her sweet, piping voice, asked if she could watch an extra thirty minutes of cartoons every day. Evan lovingly agreed, telling her all he wanted was for her to grow up happy. The heartwarming scene melted everyone’s hearts. “And now, for our second segment—‘A Change of Heart’!” the host announced. “Each guest will draw a colored card. Those with matching colors will become a new ‘family’ for this challenge and complete a task together!” Now that sounded interesting. I drew a blue card and scanned the room to see who my partner would be. Suddenly, Leo grabbed my arm, holding up a rainbow-colored card like it was a bomb. “Vivian! Help me!” I saw Caleb Kane holding a matching rainbow card and looked back at my brother, confused. “Isn’t Caleb from your agency? You already know him. What’s the big deal?” “No, no, no,” Leo whispered frantically, shaking his head. “He’s gay.” Me: “???” 6 My eyes widened as I looked from the delicate-featured Caleb back to my goofy brother. Gay?! Leo ducked behind me, hiding his card. “You don’t follow the gossip, Viv, you wouldn’t know. He’s always trying to queerbait with me for the cameras, and I want no part of it.” “The agency sent us on a travel show together once, and it was a nightmare. He’d ‘accidentally’ fall into my arms or ‘unintentionally’ brush his hand against my butt. At first, I just thought he was being friendly…” “Then I saw the fan edits of us online.” Leo’s face contorted in disgust. “The way they cut those clips… I almost thought we were actually dating.” “The man is a menace!” I was shocked, but also a little amused. I gave Leo a long, scrutinizing look. “And you’re…?” “A hundred percent straight! I can’t be on a team with him again. My reputation will never recover!” Seeing my brother so genuinely repulsed was actually kind of hilarious. Poor guy. Leo started wheedling again. “Please, Viv, switch with me. Please, please, please…” Sighing, I gave in. “Fine, give me your card—” Before I could finish, I felt a tug on my sleeve. I looked down to see a small hand holding up a blue card. Lily Chen blinked her big, innocent eyes up at me. “Aunty, I want to be on your team. Can you please not switch with that uncle?” Leo froze, offended. “Uncle? Me? And she’s ‘Aunty’?” Lily just blinked again and hid behind me. “I just want to be with this aunty. Uncle, can you please let me?” On one hand, my own flesh and blood. On the other, a completely adorable little girl I’d just met. The choice was obvious. The adorable little girl, of course! I couldn’t hide my grin as I scooped Lily into my arms. “Of course, sweetie. I’d love to be on your team. Sorry, Leo. You’re on your own.” Leo: “???” Another card appeared in front of me, this one also blue, followed by Everett’s handsome face. He raised an eyebrow. “Looks like I drew blue too. Mind if I join?” I stared for a moment, momentarily captivated. That face was truly flawless. Everett patted Leo’s shoulder. “Good luck.” Leo turned away, his voice filled with despair. “That’s it, I’m disowning all of you.”

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My brand-new projector screen was being targeted daily by the kid from the apartment upstairs, using a laser pointer. When I went up to talk to his dad about it, he just shrugged. “He’s just a kid playing. How much can that raggedy old cloth of yours be worth?” The next day, the kid used an infrared pen to burn several holes right through my screen. I didn’t call the police. Instead, I quietly replaced the expensive screen with a mirror, adjusted the angle precisely, and aimed it right back at their window. Now, his son can play with laser reflections in his own home. All day, every day. 1 At six in the evening, I drew the living room curtains, ready to start my workday. I’m a film colorist who works from home, and my living room doubles as my studio. To achieve the most accurate color reproduction possible, I had spent three thousand dollars on a top-of-the-line, professional-grade screen imported from Germany. For me, this screen was my livelihood. I turned on the projector and my computer, preparing to fine-tune a new batch of film footage. Suddenly, a glaring red dot appeared out of nowhere, right in the center of the image. It danced around the lead actress’s face like an annoying mosquito, completely wrecking the color balance I had so carefully calibrated. My blood pressure shot up instantly. I walked to the window and peeked through a crack in the curtains. In the window of apartment 602, directly above mine, a small head was bobbing furtively. In his hand was a laser pointer. I knew the kid. It was the upstairs neighbors’ son, Leo, a nine-year-old with a reputation as the neighborhood’s number one terror. A surge of anger flared in my chest. I shut down my equipment, swallowed my rage, and marched upstairs to knock on 602’s door. Leo’s father, Mark, answered. He was a man in his forties with a prominent beer belly and the stale smell of alcohol clinging to him. I tried to keep my tone civil. “Hey, Mark. I’m your downstairs neighbor.” “Could you please ask your son to stop shining that laser pointer at my window?” I continued. “I have a very expensive, professional screen set up, and it’s interfering with my work. It could also damage the equipment.” Mark looked me up and down, his face a mask of undisguised contempt. He yelled into the apartment, “Leo, stop playing with that thing!” Then he turned back to me with a dismissive smirk. “He’s just a kid, having a bit of fun. What’s the big deal?” He clapped me on the shoulder, his greasy sense of superiority washing over me. “Besides, it’s just a piece of cloth, right? How much could it possibly be worth? If it gets damaged, I’ll just pay you for it.” In that moment, I felt my fists clench. Looking at his face, a canvas of indifference and condescension, I knew that saying anything more would be a waste of breath. I took a deep breath, turned, and walked back downstairs. Back in my apartment, I stared at the faint red afterglow on my screen. It didn’t feel like a spot of light. It felt like a stinging slap across my face. 2 My visit did nothing to stop the harassment. In fact, it made it worse. From the next day on, the red dot would appear like clockwork the moment I drew my curtains to work. It was no longer a random flicker; it had become a targeted provocation. It would settle precisely on the face of the character I was trying to color-correct, or trace circles around the names in the rolling credits. It was as if Leo had discovered a new, more engaging video game. My work efficiency plummeted. I had to redo several projects because the constant distraction caused me to misjudge the colors. I tried messaging Mark, but he either ignored me or replied with a curt “got it” and nothing more. Finally, at my wits’ end, I decided to take the issue to the building’s residents’ group chat. In the 500-member “Harmony Homes Community” chat, I typed out a message, trying my best to remain polite and restrained. “@Mark_602, hi Mark, just wanted to bring this up again. Your son has been continuously shining a laser pointer into my apartment, and it’s seriously affecting my work and daily life. I would appreciate it if you could address this and supervise your child. Thank you.” Silence descended on the group chat for a few seconds. Then, a familiar profile picture popped up. It was Mark’s wife, Karen. She didn’t type. She sent a 60-second voice message, her voice shrill and dripping with manufactured victimhood. “Hey, downstairs! Are you for real? A grown man picking on a little boy?” “My son was just curious! He pointed a little light at your window! What’s the big deal?” “First you come knocking on our door, and now you’re trying to shame us in the group chat? Are you trying to bully a poor widow and her orphan child?” I blinked. Mark was a burly, six-foot man. How had he suddenly become a widow’s orphan? But her performance wasn’t over. “You keep your curtains drawn so tight all day. Who knows what kind of shady business you’re up to in there? Our Leo is just an innocent child! Don’t you dare project your filthy adult world onto him!” “And anyway, he just shined a light at it! Is that raggedy old cloth of yours made of gold or something? Why are you so petty!” The words “raggedy old cloth” were like needles in my ears. Her tirade of lies and accusations successfully stirred the pot. A few of her “sisters” from her morning workout group immediately jumped to her defense. “Exactly, Karen, sweetie. Don’t listen to him. People are so narrow-minded these days.” “A grown man, arguing with a child. So pathetic.” “Come on, young man, no need to be so aggressive. Being good neighbors is the most important thing.” I stared at the screen, my hands trembling with rage. A simple attempt to protect my property had somehow turned into a public shaming session. For the first time, I understood what it felt like to be completely and utterly defenseless against a torrent of lies. I didn’t reply. I turned off my phone and sat in the darkness, listening to the heavy thud of my own heart. I realized then that reasoning with this family was a lost cause. 3 I decided to retreat. For now. If reasoning wouldn’t work, I’d resort to the simplest solution: a physical barrier. I spent over a hundred dollars on the thickest, double-layered blackout curtains I could find online, advertised to block 99.9% of all light. The curtains were installed quickly. I drew both the new and old layers, and my living room was plunged into absolute darkness. You couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. Finally, I thought, some peace and quiet. The first two days were blissfully silent. The annoying red dot was gone. A sliver of hope even flickered within me. Maybe they had gotten bored and given up. But I was too naive. I had underestimated a brat’s capacity for destruction, and his parents’ willingness to enable it. On the third afternoon, I was in the kitchen making dinner when a strange, acrid smell drifted in from the living room. It was a peculiar scent, like burning plastic mixed with a chemical tang. My stomach dropped. I rushed into the living room and threw open the heavy curtains. The sight before me made my blood run cold. My pristine, perfectly smooth German screen was now marred by five or six black holes, each the size of a pea. The edges were scorched yellow, and thin wisps of smoke were still curling up from them. My three-thousand-dollar screen was ruined. I ran to the window and looked up. The curtains in 602 were drawn. I couldn’t see anything. But I knew. I knew it was them. A regular laser pointer couldn’t have done this. This had to be an industrial-grade laser, something much more powerful. Maybe even one of those illegal, high-powered “laser cannons” you could find online. I immediately checked the feed from the micro-camera I had installed in the corner of the living room for security purposes. It was aimed directly at my screen and the window. I rewound the footage. It didn’t take long to find the evidence. In the video, a beam of light, almost invisible to the naked eye but infinitely more powerful than before, shot down from the upstairs window. It remained fixed on the screen. A few seconds later, the spot began to smoke, then turned black, and finally, burned through. The entire process lasted for nearly a minute. This was a deliberate, malicious act of destruction. I watched the devastating beam of light in the video, then looked at the ugly scars on my screen. My body began to tremble with an uncontrollable rage. A volcano of fury erupted in my chest, incinerating the last shred of my reason. I didn’t storm upstairs to confront them. I didn’t call the police. Because I knew, with people like this, the police would just mediate. They’d be forced to pay for the damages, and that would be it. But I wanted more than just money. I wanted them to pay a real, unforgettable price for their actions. I calmly turned off the camera and removed the memory card. Then, I opened my web browser and typed, slowly and deliberately, into the search bar. “Large, high-reflectivity, optical mirror.” The game was about to change. 4 I didn’t confront the family again. I didn’t say another word in the group chat. I went about my life as if nothing had happened. My uncharacteristic silence seemed to unnerve Karen. She even tried to prod me in the group chat. “Haven’t heard from downstairs in a few days. Hope he’s not cooking up some nasty scheme.” I ignored her. All my energy was focused on my plan for revenge. First, I carefully took down the burned screen. I rolled it up, wrapped it in protective film, and stored it away. It was my most crucial piece of evidence. Next, I meticulously measured the screen’s dimensions: 2.2 meters long, 1.25 meters wide. Now, I needed to find the perfect “weapon” to replace it. My initial idea was simple: buy a regular mirror and hang it up. But I quickly dismissed that. A standard mirror wouldn’t have a high enough reflectivity, and it could shatter, which was a safety risk. I needed a weapon of mass reflection, something that could bounce back the laser’s energy with almost no loss. Just when I was about to give up, I thought of someone. Mr. Peterson, who lived on the 17th floor. He was a retired high school physics teacher who had taught optics his entire life. He was a tech geek who loved to tinker with gadgets. I’d run into him in the elevator a few times. Seeing that I was a young guy who also wore glasses, he’d struck up a conversation about anti-blue-light lenses. He’d left a strong impression on me. With a “what have I got to lose” attitude, I brought a box of tea and knocked on his door. Mr. Peterson’s apartment was like a mini science museum. A telescope stood in the living room, and the bookshelves were crammed with technical manuals. I told him everything, from the initial laser harassment to the destruction of my screen. When I finished, he slammed his fist on his thigh. “Unbelievable! That family has been a menace to this building for years!” he fumed. “This isn’t just a prank anymore. This is intentional destruction of property! It’s a crime!” When I laid out my “mirror revenge” plan, Mr. Peterson’s eyes lit up. He pushed his glasses up his nose, a scholar’s excitement spreading across his face. “My boy, that is a brilliant idea!” he exclaimed. “It’s a perfect application of ‘an eye for an eye.’ A physics-based version, no less!” He immediately pulled me over to his desk, spread out a large sheet of paper, and began to sketch. “See, a regular mirror won’t do. We need a ‘first surface mirror,’ also known as an ‘optical mirror.’ The reflective coating is on the front of the glass, so it doesn’t create a double image. Its reflectivity can be over 95%!” “And the angle,” he continued, “you’re on the fifth floor, they’re on the sixth. The height difference is about 2.8 meters. You’ll need to get a precise horizontal measurement.” “According to the law of reflection, the angle of incidence equals the angle of reflection. We can calculate the exact tilt of the mirror to ensure the laser beam is returned along its original path, right back to their window!” The more Mr. Peterson talked, the more excited he became. It was as if this wasn’t an act of revenge, but a rigorous scientific experiment. Under his expert guidance, my plan became clearer, more refined. What I needed was a custom-made, large-format, high-reflectivity, precisely angled instrument of perfect revenge.

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I’m the CEO’s doctor friend. The very first day I get back from my residency in Germany, his girlfriend points a tear-streaked face at me and wails: “I thought you were different from all those other alpha-male CEOs, but I can’t believe you sponsored a charity case, too. Are you trying to replace me with her?” I just stand there, completely baffled. I look over at my friend, the CEO in question. “Dude,” I say. “You sponsored me? Where’s the money? Because I sure as hell never saw a dime.” 1 Before Leo could get a word in, the girl he’d put on a pedestal for years, Clara Monroe, steamrolled right on. “It all makes sense now! All those trips you took overseas every month, you said they were for business. You were going to see her!” “And now she’s back. So what’s next, Leo? Are you going to bring your little charity case home, hide behind some flimsy excuse of pity, and then start sneaking around with her right under my nose?” Her voice wasn’t quiet. The usual rush of travelers in the arrivals hall at JFK slowed, then stopped. A small crowd was forming, their curious gazes bouncing between the three of us like a tennis match. Clara, however, seemed completely oblivious, lost in her own tragic performance, tears streaming down her cheeks like something out of an old movie. My toes were threatening to permanently cramp from the sheer awkwardness of it all. What in the world was happening? All I did was finish my residency and ask my oldest friend, Leo Sterling, to pick me up from the airport. How did that morph into me being his sponsored student from the wrong side of the tracks? And where did this whole plotline about moving into his house and having a secret affair come from? Leo looked just as stunned as I felt. It took him a second to find his voice, his brow furrowing. “Clara, what are you talking about? My monthly trips abroad were for work. You were with me on almost every single one of them. You know exactly what I was doing.” “And this,” he said, gesturing toward me, “is Wren. Wren Miller. My friend the doctor, the one I told you about who was doing her residency in Germany. She’s finally back. She is not, and has never been, a ‘sponsored student.’” Clara’s eyes raked over me, from my worn-out travel sweats to my messy bun. A fat, perfect tear rolled down her cheek. Her expression crumpled into one of profound heartbreak. “Leo, darling,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “You don’t have to lie to protect my feelings. If she was really your doctor friend, how could she possibly be back from a German program so soon?” I, the German-residency-survivor, felt that dig deep in my jet-lagged soul. Thank you for that. I sighed, deciding to intervene. “Miss Monroe, I really did just graduate. I can show you my diploma if you’d like.” I tried a small, reassuring smile. “And I have my own place. I have absolutely no plans to move in with Leo.” Her face twisted as if I’d just slapped her. She stared at me in disbelief. “You call him by his full name, so intimately. And he bought you a house? Of course, he did.” She let out a watery, bitter laugh. “True love really is fickle. And here I am, like a fool, still drowning in this fantasy.” I felt my eyelid twitch. Honey, what alternate reality are you writing in your head right now? Leo ran a hand through his hair, looking exasperated. “Clara, just tell me. What will it take for you to believe that Wren is just my friend?” Clara wiped a tear away, her demeanor shifting. Suddenly, she looked like she held all the cards. “In the novels, the CEO’s doctor friend is always on call. 24/7. No questions asked.” She crossed her arms. “Give me one week. Let me test her. If she passes, I’ll believe you.” Leo’s frown deepened. He shot a hesitant look in my direction. I shook my head. Vigorously. No. Absolutely not. Forget it. There was no way on God’s green earth I was going to be at anyone’s beck and call. Leo knew me well enough to know that, but he also knew Clara. It was clear she wasn’t going to let this go. After a long, tense moment, he squared his shoulders and walked over to me, ignoring my silent, murderous glare. “Wren,” he started, his voice low. “I know this is insane. But I’m out of options here.” He leaned in closer. “You know that limited edition SSC Tuatara in my garage? The one you drool over? It’s yours. And I’ll throw in the villa next door to mine. That way, if you do get a midnight call, it’s the shortest possible commute.” He even had the audacity to try for a charming grin. “Besides, midnight here is only six p.m. in Berlin. You’re not over your jet lag yet anyway. It’s perfect, right?” My eyes went wide. I stared at him, aghast. “Leo Sterling, do you really think I’m that easily bought? Do you honestly believe that just because you’re dangling my dream car and a multi-million-dollar piece of real estate in my face, I would actually agree to this madness?” I took a deep, dramatic breath. “I’m telling you, right now, that I absolutely would.” Leo just gave me a flat, unimpressed look. “Next time, just nod. You don’t need the whole soliloquy.” 2 With the deal struck, Leo quickly relayed the verdict to a triumphant Clara. A moment later, when Leo was busy with the luggage, Clara sauntered over to me, her chin held high. She let out a cold little scoff. “So, Wren. You played the pity card and got Leo to fund you for all these years. Good for you,” she said, her voice dripping with condescension. “But in the end, to make me happy, he still agreed to put you on a 24/7 leash. See? In his heart, I’m the one who matters. You can flap your little wings all you want, but a sparrow will never be a swan.” I just pictured the keys to that Tuatara in my hand, and suddenly, even Clara’s pathetic provocations seemed almost charming. I smiled sweetly and played along. “You’re absolutely right. You’re everything to him. What am I? Nothing.” She preened, lifting her chin even higher. “At least you know your place.” With a final, dismissive glance, she turned and glided back to Leo’s side. Watching them walk away, I couldn’t help but marvel. That kid’s life was never boring, was it? It was like living in a constant primetime drama. After explaining the bizarre situation to my parents, I moved into the villa next to Leo’s that very day. He had already arranged for someone to come and clean the place. It was Maria, a woman who had been the Sterlings’ housekeeper for decades. She’d watched both me and Leo grow up. When I saw her, I was struck by how tired she looked, her face etched with a deep weariness I’d never seen before. “Maria, has work been that stressful these past few years?” I asked gently. “You look exhausted.” She let out a long, heavy sigh. “Don’t even get me started. Ever since Miss Monroe moved in two years ago, I haven’t had a single good night’s sleep.” She lowered her voice. “Soon after she got here, she started asking me if I had a daughter. Said she could be a potential childhood sweetheart of Mr. Sterling’s, and that threat needed to be ‘dealt with early.’ Then she insisted he had a hundred secret illnesses—insomnia, stomach problems, night blindness, claustrophobia… she gave me a whole list of demands.” Maria shook her head, a flicker of anger in her tired eyes. “But I wasn’t the worst of it. The worst was Arthur, the butler. All because he didn’t announce that she was ‘the first woman Mr. Sterling had ever brought home’ the moment she walked through the door, she threw a fit and had him fired.” It was like a dam had broken. Maria, who I’d only ever known as quiet and composed, poured out two years of accumulated misery, a torrent of stories about Clara’s relentless torment. As I listened to her go on and on, a sinking feeling settled in my stomach. I suddenly felt that my decision to agree to this whole 24/7 charade for a sports car had been, perhaps, a little reckless. It turns out, I was right. It was incredibly reckless. It began the very first night, at three in the morning, with a call from Leo telling me to come over and treat a two-millimeter cut on Clara’s hand. From that moment on, my life descended into a special kind of hell. In less than a week, I understood Maria’s exhaustion on a profound, spiritual level. When she came over to bring me dinner one evening, we just grabbed each other’s hands and stared into each other’s eyes, a silent, shared trauma passing between us. I sent a text to Leo: I can’t do this anymore. Your girlfriend is a professional chaos agent. I’m out. Lose my number. After hitting send, I started packing. I was done with the villa, done with the drama. I was going home. My phone buzzed relentlessly as I threw my clothes into a suitcase. I figured it was Leo, dangling another shiny object to try and make me stay. But when I finally checked, the messages weren’t from Leo at all. They were from Clara. Her tone was drenched in her usual melodrama: Giving up after only a few days? And you had the nerve to claim you were his doctor friend. I see what you’re doing. You’re pretending to leave so Leo will chase after you. Let me tell you something: forget it. He’s never even going to see this text. Oh, no. No, no, no. She couldn’t do that. That would make me look like I took the bribe and ran. I gritted my teeth. Fine. One more night. I would wait for the inevitable midnight summons and tell Leo to his face that I was done. Sure enough, at eleven p.m., my phone rang. I was being summoned. After examining Clara’s self-diagnosed dark circles and prescribing a glass of warm milk before bed, I was ready to grab Leo and give him my resignation. 3 But before I could open my mouth, Clara cooed, “Leo, darling, could you go warm up my milk for me right now? I want to drink it and go straight to sleep.” Without a second thought, Leo nodded and headed for the kitchen. The moment he was gone, Clara’s sweet expression vanished, replaced by a cold sneer. “Wren. I thought you were leaving. What happened? Realized Leo wasn’t going to chase you, so you decided to stick around like a bad smell? I’ve seen your little tricks a thousand times in the novels. It won’t work.” A vein was starting to throb in my temple. I took a deep breath, trying for patience one last time. “Miss Monroe, I really am Leo’s friend, just back from my residency in Germany. If you don’t believe me, look, I have pictures from my time there.” I pulled out my phone and showed her a few photos. Her face, however, only grew darker. She stared at my phone, then back at me, her eyes flashing with anger. “What are you trying to prove with these pictures? That Leo cares about you? That he spent a lot of money on you? Let me tell you something. Even if you’ve been abroad, you will never, ever be on our level.” With a flick of her wrist, she tossed a heavy, cream-colored invitation onto the coffee table in front of me, as if bestowing a great favor. “Tomorrow is Leo’s birthday party. A lot of important people will be there. You should come and see for yourself. Then you’ll finally understand the difference between the clouds and the mud.” I stared at her, utterly speechless. Leo’s great love. She was certainly something out of a historical novel. A very, very feudal one. I had no intention of going to Leo’s birthday party. My plan was to tell him I quit and then disappear. But the next day, as I was packing my last bag, Leo showed up at my door. He looked exhausted. “Clara is insisting you come to the party tonight.” “I know you’ve been through a lot this week,” he said, his voice laced with apology. “I’m sorry. Look, pick any three other cars from my garage. They’re yours.” I didn’t stop packing. “This isn’t about the cars, Leo.” “And the penthouse downtown. The one you love.” He added it so casually. I dropped the suitcase. “Deal.” I dusted off my hands. “It’s not about the cars or the apartment, obviously. I’m just… really invested in making sure my buddy has a happy birthday.” Leo’s face was a mask of disbelief. “Right. I’m sure you are.” The party was at Leo’s villa. When I arrived, Clara was playing the perfect hostess, greeting guests with a radiant smile. For a moment, she actually looked the part of the idealized woman he’d made her out to be. Most of the people there were from our circle, people we’d all grown up with. As soon as they saw me, they swarmed. “Wren! When did you get back? I can’t believe you didn’t tell me, are we even friends anymore?” “You’re finally done with Germany! That’s amazing. So, where are you headed next? Any hospital would be lucky to have you.” Before I could even answer, Clara stormed over, her face a thundercloud. “Well, Wren, I have to hand it to you. I underestimated you. You’re quite the social butterfly, aren’t you? Barely here five minutes and you’ve already got a flock of men around you.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “Oh, I get it. You know Leo only loves me, so you’re using his party to find your next meal ticket, is that it?” She turned to the group. “Gentlemen, don’t let this woman fool you. She may look polished on the outside, but she’s just a charity case that Leo sponsors.” My friends exchanged confused glances, then completely ignored her and went right back to catching up with me. Clara stomped her foot in frustration. But then, a cruel smile spread across her face. “It doesn’t matter how many men you charm tonight, Wren,” she hissed. “When things go down, you’ll be the first one they run from.” Her smile sent a shiver down my spine. That throbbing in my temple was back with a vengeance. I had a very bad feeling about what was coming next. And sure enough, in the next second, Clara turned and threw herself, with spectacular drama, straight into the decorative fountain in the center of the foyer. Just as Leo walked in from his study, finished with his work. He saw her, and his eyes widened as he rushed to pull her out. Soaking wet, Clara collapsed into his arms, sobbing. “Leo, darling, it was Wren! She pushed me! You have to do something, you have to punish her!” Leo’s brow furrowed as he looked at me. I immediately held up my hands. “I did not.” Clara’s crying intensified, her voice taking on a martyred tone. “It’s fine. No one saw anything. If Wren-darling says she didn’t do it, then she didn’t. I suppose I must have just… thrown myself into the fountain.” 4 Her words hung in the air, and Leo’s frown deepened. But before he could respond, someone else spoke up. “What do you mean nobody saw?” one of our friends, Mark, called out from the crowd. “We all saw it. You absolutely did just throw yourself in. Why are you trying to frame Wren for it?” “Yeah,” another friend chimed in. “Besides, there are security cameras everywhere in this place, right? Just pull the footage.” Clara froze, her mouth slightly agape. This was clearly not how the scene was supposed to play out in her script. She looked around at the crowd, utterly bewildered. “This is the part where the main characters have their moment. You’re all just the background. Why are you talking?”

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After the fifth time tonight, he rolls off me, the mattress groaning in protest. He dresses in the blue-gray light of the pre-dawn city, his movements efficient and detached. He tosses a platinum card onto the nightstand. It lands with a faint, sterile click. “Don’t come back here again,” he says, his voice flat. “Ava and I are getting engaged.” Five years. I have been Carter Hayes’s beautiful, perfectly kept secret for five years, and he’s ending it with five million dollars in a bank account I now own. His tone is cold, severe, as if he’s bracing for a scene, for the clinging he’s paid so handsomely to avoid. He doesn’t know that Leo Sterling, the man who practically owns half of Manhattan’s skyline, has been pursuing me for the better part of a year, just waiting for me to say yes. Leo is wealthier, more powerful, and far more generous than Carter ever was. A golden canary like me? I can sing for any man who owns the cage. 1 “You’ve been with me a long time,” Carter says, buttoning his shirt. The sound of it is unnervingly final. “You know the rules.” He doesn’t look at me, just throws the card on the bedside table before pulling on his trousers. His face is a mask of indifference, a carefully constructed blank slate. “I want your things out of here within the week.” I nod, the sound I make a small, quiet “Mm.” Carter Hayes was never my boyfriend. He was my patron, my keeper. Our relationship was a transaction, built on sex, not love. A man of his pedigree, from a family whose name is carved into the stone of half the buildings on the Upper East Side, would never fall for someone like me. I knew that from the very first night. I never allowed myself the luxury of delusion. When the man who owns your time tells you the contract is over, a smart girl knows to walk away without a fuss. My eyes fix on the card, a small piece of plastic meant to represent sixty months of my life. Still, a hollow ache opens up in my chest. Five million dollars for five years with Carter Hayes. By the time I hear the heavy front door click shut, I realize I never even saw his back as he left. My phone buzzes on the nightstand, shattering the silence. It’s Leo. His voice comes through the speaker, a low rumble like aged whiskey. “Chloe,” he says. “This is the ninth time I’m asking. Are you ready to be with me?” He pauses, a soft breath on the other end. “If you say no, I’ll just have to call again next month and make it an even ten.” For a year, eight separate times, Leo Sterling has asked me to leave Carter for him. And while I may be a kept woman, I have my own strange code of ethics. Carter was paying my bills, and until he was the one to end it, I wouldn’t be the one to leave. I stay quiet for a moment, and I hear him sigh, a sound of gentle resignation. “It’s okay,” he says, his voice softening. “I can wait.” Just as he’s about to hang up, the words leave my lips before I can stop them. “Yes,” I say. “From now on, I’m with you.” A beat of stunned silence, then, “Really? Chloe, that’s… that’s incredible!” The undisguised joy, the sheer, unadulterated excitement in his voice, is a thing I haven’t heard directed at me in a very long time. Leo Sterling is a bigger player than Carter in every conceivable way. And for a girl like me, who learned to love money because it was the only thing that never let her down, one patron is as good as another. Or so I tell myself. 2 Leo is in Zurich for the week, closing a deal. “I’ll have my assistant arrange for you to move your things into my penthouse,” he’d said over the phone, his voice already mapping out the logistics. “Just tell David whatever you need.” Carter gave me a week, but it only took a day for his fiancée to get involved. I arrive back at the apartment to find my life piled on the curb outside the service entrance. Designer dresses, shoes, books… all of it tossed into a heap of expensive trash. As I’m standing there, staring at the wreckage, the service door swings open. It’s Ava Prescott, Carter’s fiancée. “I’ve never seen anything so shameless,” she says, her voice a lazy drawl. She leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest, a picture of bored superiority. “Still hanging around, hoping for a handout?” She looks me up and down, her lip curled in a delicate sneer. “A girl like you needs to learn her place. Don’t go getting any ideas about moving up in the world.” Her words are coated in venom, her eyes filled with the casual disdain of the truly privileged. I know her type. Girls like Ava Prescott don’t see people like me as human; they see us as obstacles or entertainment. But I force a polite, practiced smile. “Miss Prescott, I have no intention of lingering. I understand the terms of the arrangement perfectly.” I crouch down and begin to gather my clothes, the silk of a blouse feeling cold against my skin. Just then, a black town car pulls up, and Carter gets out. He surveys the scene, his brow furrowing in a flicker of annoyance. “What’s going on here?” Ava immediately melts against his side, her voice turning into a saccharine purr. “Carter, darling, look at her. She refuses to leave. I know how these women think,” she says, loud enough for me to hear every word. “She’s probably trying to figure out a way to trap you.” Carter stands over me, a long shadow falling across my discarded belongings. I look up, my eyes meeting his. His gaze is heavy, filled with the crushing weight of his power, a warning. “Chloe,” he says, his voice laced with ice. “I suggest you make this easy on everyone. Let’s end this cleanly.” A bitter laugh escapes my lips before I can stop it. Does he really think I’m the one who can’t let go? “Don’t worry, Mr. Hayes,” I say, my voice steady. “I have no intention of clinging to you.” I quickly stuff the rest of my things into my suitcases. As I turn to wheel them away, Carter’s voice cuts through the air, sharp and impatient. “You took the money. Now stay out of my sight.” My feet freeze for a second, but I don’t turn back. 3 Leo’s assistant, David, meets me on the corner. He loads my luggage into the back of a sleek, black Mercedes. He’s the epitome of professionalism, whisking me away from the curb and toward a new life. He takes me to Leo’s penthouse, a stunning glass-walled apartment overlooking Central Park. “Miss Miller,” David says, handing me a heavy, cream-colored envelope as he unloads my bags. “Whatever you need, my number is programmed into the house phone.” The envelope contains an invitation. “This is for a private auction tomorrow evening. Mr. Sterling said that if you see anything you like, you are to bid on it. The price is not a concern.” I take the invitation, the thick cardstock cool in my hand. “Thank you, David.” Leo’s home is vast. As I step inside, a housekeeper and another staff member are waiting to greet me. The sheer scale of it all is a little overwhelming. In five years with Carter, I was never once allowed to feel this welcome in his space. I was a guest, always temporary. Here, it seems, I am expected. 4 The next evening, I dress for the auction. David picks me up and escorts me to the venue, a lavish ballroom in a downtown hotel. “I’ll be seated in the row directly behind you, Miss Miller,” he says discreetly. “You can bid yourself, or if you prefer, just catch my eye, and I’ll handle it for you.” “I understand,” I reply. Part of the job is knowing how to please your benefactor. Leo sent me here tonight because he wanted me to enjoy myself, to feel provided for. Buying something, even something small, is a way of showing gratitude. It’s a performance of appreciation. I scan the catalog. My eyes land on a beautiful sapphire ring, delicate and understated. It’s one of the less extravagant pieces, which makes it perfect. A tasteful choice. As I find my seat, a familiar cold dread washes over me. Carter and Ava are here. The moment Carter sees me, his brow knits together in displeasure. “What are you doing here?” Ava, standing beside him, lets out a little laugh. “Isn’t it obvious? She’s fishing. Looking for her next patron.” I say nothing. Carter’s eyes narrow. “Chloe, I believe I told you to stay out of my sight.” A real smile, sharp and genuine this time, touches my lips. “Is this your private event, Mr. Hayes? Am I not allowed to attend? Because I have an invitation.” His face darkens. It’s the first time I have ever spoken back to him, and the shock on his face is deeply satisfying. The auction begins. The sapphire ring is the first item. I raise my paddle. A moment later, I hear a bid from behind me. It’s Carter. I turn slightly and catch Ava’s eye. She’s smirking, a triumphant, childish look on her face. She’s making him bid against me purely out of spite. I’m about to raise my paddle again, but before I can, David’s voice rings out, calm and clear. He’s standing up. “Apologies, everyone,” he says to the auctioneer. “I have Mr. Sterling on the line. His new girlfriend fancies the ring, and he has instructed me to acquire it, regardless of the cost.” A hush falls over the room. My heart hammers against my ribs. I’m stunned, and I can feel the ripple of shock and gossip spread through the crowd. To place an unlimited bid on a relatively minor piece was a statement. A loud one. From the row behind me, I hear Carter’s friend murmur, a teasing edge to his voice. “Well, well. Looks like the untouchable Leo Sterling finally has a woman. I wonder who could possibly tame that workaholic.” I sink lower in my seat, my face burning. Before the auction is even over, I text David that I feel unwell and would like to leave. In the car on the way back, he hands me a small, velvet box. “Mr. Sterling was very clear. If you wanted it, it was not to end up in anyone else’s hands.” He then passes me a black, featureless credit card. “Mr. Sterling will likely be back in about a week. He said you should feel free to use this for anything you might need or want.” 5 A few days later, bored and restless, I decide to go shopping for a dress. David mentioned that Sterling Enterprises is hosting its annual charity gala next week, and Leo wants me to attend as his date. I need something new. A woman on a man’s arm should reflect his status. I’m browsing in a boutique on Madison Avenue when a pair of stunning, stiletto-heeled pumps catches my eye. “Excuse me,” I say to a sales associate. “Could I try these in a seven?” “Help me with these shoes.” The second voice is Ava’s. We’ve spoken at the exact same time. Of course. It seems I can’t escape her. I have no desire for another confrontation. I turn to leave. “What’s the matter?” Ava’s mocking voice follows me. “Can’t steal my man, so you’re trying to steal my shoes instead?” I’ve already tried to de-escalate, to be the bigger person. I’ve held my tongue. But she won’t let it go. “I’m letting you have the shoes, Ava,” I say, my voice tight. She raises an eyebrow, a cruel smirk playing on her lips. “You know, Chloe, you’re so good at pleasing men on your back. Why don’t you please me? Kneel and help me try on my shoes.” I freeze. The sheer audacity, the calculated cruelty of it—it’s breathtaking. “You should watch your mouth, Ava.” She steps forward, and before I can react, her hand connects with my cheek. The slap is sharp, echoing in the quiet store. My face stings, a hot, spreading fire. “If I hadn’t been studying in London,” she hisses, her face inches from mine, “you never would have gotten your claws into Carter for so long. This is a warning. Stay away from him.” I press my hand to my throbbing cheek. And, as if on cue, Carter walks into the store. He goes straight to her side. “What’s wrong?” “The Sterling gala is next week, and I was trying to find the perfect pair of shoes to wear with you,” she says, her voice a perfect imitation of a frustrated little girl. “And she deliberately tried to take the ones I wanted. It made me so angry I just… I slapped her.” Carter looks at my face, at the bright red handprint blooming on my skin. For a split second, I see something flash in his eyes—a flicker of something that might be concern. But it’s gone as quickly as it appears. He turns his attention back to Ava, his voice softening. “Did you hurt your hand?” She pouts. “I’m still mad.” She points a perfectly manicured finger at me. “You love money, don’t you? I’ll pay you. Kneel and put my shoes on for me.” The humiliation is thick, choking. I say nothing. I look at Carter, a silent appeal in my eyes. He wraps his arm around Ava’s waist, pulling her close. His gaze on me is cold, dismissive. “You do whatever it takes in the bedroom,” he says, his voice low and cutting. “What’s the big deal about trying on a shoe?” His words hit me like a physical blow. A cold laugh bubbles up inside me. All this time, that’s all I ever was to him. A toy. An object without dignity or respect. I force myself to stand tall. “That’s a disgusting thing to say, Carter. It’s beneath even you.” And with that, I turn and walk out, leaving them to their ugly victory. 6 David is waiting for me in the parking garage. When I pull open the back door of the car, I’m surprised to see Leo sitting inside. “Leo,” I say, my voice betraying my shock. A genuine smile lights up my face. “I thought you weren’t back until next week.” He reaches out and gently tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His touch is warm. “The deal closed early. I came straight back.” His eyes scan my face, then my empty hands. “You didn’t buy anything?” I shake my head. “I couldn’t find anything I liked.” “I’ll have a stylist send a selection to the penthouse tomorrow. You can choose from home.” His gaze lingers on my face, his brow furrowing with concern. “What happened to your cheek?” I’d tried to cover the redness with concealer in the restroom, but the slight swelling is still visible. “Oh, it’s nothing,” I lie, forcing a smile. “Probably just an allergic reaction to something.” Leo’s expression becomes serious, but he doesn’t press me. 7 At the charity gala, I am on Leo’s arm. Just before we enter the grand ballroom, Leo is pulled aside by David to discuss something urgent. I wait for him by the entrance, and that’s when I see them arrive. Carter and Ava. Carter’s eyes lock on me, a mixture of surprise and annoyance on his face. “How did you get into an event like this? It’s invitation only.” Ava looks me up and down, her expression one of pure disdain. “She probably found herself another rich old man.” I remain silent. But then Ava’s eyes fix on my hand, on the sapphire ring sparkling on my finger. The ring from the auction. “Hey, how are you wearing that ring?” she asks, her tone accusatory. “Leo Sterling bought that.” Then, a look of dawning comprehension crosses her face, followed by derision. “Oh, Chloe. You can’t be that desperate. Did you really go out and buy a cheap knockoff? How pathetic.” But I see Carter’s expression shift. He’s staring at the ring, a look of grim realization spreading across his face. He’s about to say something, but just then, Leo walks toward us. He comes directly to my side and, in full view of Carter and Ava, takes my hand in his. His thumb gently strokes the sapphire. “I bought it for her,” Leo says, his voice calm and lethal. “How could it be a knockoff?” “What does that mean?” Carter chokes out, his face paling. Leo wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side. “Carter, old friend,” he says, a cool smile playing on his lips. “I should introduce you. This is Chloe. My girlfriend.” Carter stares at me, his mouth slightly agape, looking utterly lost for words. Ava just mutters under her breath, “Wow. She works fast.” I offer them a small, serene smile. Then, I take Leo’s arm, and together, we walk into the gala, leaving Carter standing there in stunned silence.

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A nine-thousand-dollar Omakase delivery on a night the sky was splitting open with rain. The tip was five hundred bucks. I was letting the quiet thrill of it soak in when I heard the laughter from inside the mansion. “He actually believes you were paralyzed in a car accident? That he has to work delivery jobs to support you? He even sold his father’s old signet ring?” “Can you imagine his face if he knew you were a trust fund princess worth billions, just playing a little poverty game with him? He’d probably cry himself to death.” I recognized Isabelle’s voice. She was toying with a wine glass, I could picture it. “Men like that… they’re born to serve. It’s in their blood.” “Besides,” a man’s voice added, one I knew all too well. “He deserved it. A little punishment for always trying to one-up me back in college. Tricking him was the least I could do.” I stood there in the pouring rain, a bitter smile twisting my lips. So, her two years of feigned sickness were just to help her childhood friend, Caleb, get revenge on me. Her shattered legs, her tragically deceased parents, her helpless tears—all of it was just a meticulously crafted lie. Finally, I pulled out my phone and called the woman I’d been fighting with for years, the CEO who also happened to be my mother. “Mom,” I said, the rain dripping from my hair into my eyes. “I lost. I’ll do the merger.” 1. I hung up just as Caleb Shaw’s voice drifted out from the mansion again. “It’s because my darling Isabelle spoils me rotten that she’d teach that bastard a lesson for me. And I couldn’t be happier.” His long, elegant fingers tipped Isabelle’s chin up. I saw it then. On his ring finger, gleaming under the chandelier light, was my father’s signet ring. Isabelle giggled, then lightly nipped his fingertip with her teeth. “You’re terrible.” I watched as the legs that were supposed to be useless, the legs I had carried up and down four flights of stairs every day, crossed elegantly on the coffee table in front of her. Not a trace of injury. The heavy, white cast that had fooled me for more than two years seemed to mock me from its place in the corner of the room, stark and obscene under the warm light. Clutching the insulated delivery box, I knocked on the door. The heads of everyone inside snapped in my direction. The boisterous living room fell into a dead, suffocating silence. I walked toward Isabelle, my soaked sneakers leaving a trail of dark footprints on the polished marble. Her voice was tight, strained. Her eyes darted around, refusing to meet mine. “Noah? What are you doing here?” she stammered. “I… I was just having a little get-together with some old friends…” I ignored her, my gaze fixed on the ring on Caleb’s finger. “The ring. Give it back.” The smile on Isabelle’s face froze, as if she couldn’t comprehend my cold tone. She instinctively wheeled her chair closer—the prop still ready at a moment’s notice—and tried to soothe me with that practiced, gentle voice. “Noah, just listen to me…” “Listen to what?” I cut her off, a grimace pulling at my lips that was more pain than smile. “Listen to you explain how you so kindly helped me sell it to Mr. Shaw for a premium price? Or are we going to talk about the miracle? About how your paralyzed legs just happened to start working again tonight?” Isabelle’s face went white. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. The silence in the room deepened until Caleb broke it with a contemptuous snort. He rose to his feet, his leather loafers silent on the thick rug, and sauntered over to me. He deliberately held up the hand wearing the ring. “Isabelle gave this to me,” he said, drawing out the word ‘gave.’ His eyes were filled with a triumphant, goading light. “You like it so much you want it back?” Isabelle’s face was a mask of pale panic. “Caleb, stop it! Noah, he…” “He what?” Caleb interrupted, his voice sharp with impatience as his eyes roamed over my drenched, cheap delivery uniform. “You want it? Fine. For Isabelle’s sake, I’ll consider it. But not for what you sold it for. I’ve worn it. So how about a friends-and-family price? Fifty thousand. Cash. Right now. You hand over the cash, you get the ring.” Fifty thousand dollars? After I’d walked away from my mother’s empire, I’d poured everything I had into Isabelle’s “treatments.” I’d sold or pawned every last thing of value my father had left me. Right now, I didn’t even have five hundred dollars to my name. I looked at Caleb’s smug face, then at Isabelle. She avoided my gaze, tacitly approving of his cruelty. A cold hand squeezed my heart, crushing the last wisp of warmth I held for our past. In that instant, it all turned to ash. “Fine.” “I’ll buy it.” I just wanted the last piece of my father back. Then I could walk away from these people and never, ever look back. “You’ll buy it?” Caleb echoed, as if I’d just told the funniest joke in the world. He clutched his stomach, laughing dramatically. He then pointed at the nine-thousand-dollar Omakase box still in my hand. “You couldn’t make fifty grand if you delivered food for the rest of your life. Look at that thing. Have you ever eaten sushi this expensive? Hell, have you ever even seen it up close? Do you think you deserve to?” Before I could react, he lunged forward, snatched the insulated box from my grip, and slammed it onto the marble floor. CRACK! The wooden box shattered. The lid flew open, and a king’s ransom in perfect, top-grade sushi spilled across the floor. Glistening pieces of otoro, glistening uni, perfect cubes of A5 wagyu… all of it scattered in a disgusting mess. Caleb stared down at the ruin, then ground the heel of his shoe into a piece of priceless bluefin tuna, smearing it into the grout. “See that? Nine grand. I can throw it away without a second thought. But a pathetic loser like you? You’ll never have that freedom, will you?” He sneered. “You’ll work your fingers to the bone and never afford a single bite of something like this. The best you can do is smell it. That’s the difference between you and me. Understand?” The room erupted in a chorus of jeers and mocking laughter. “Exactly! A delivery boy trying to pick a fight with Caleb?” “God, he’s pathetic. Born to be poor. Talking about fifty grand… maybe he can find a rich old lady at a nursing home to pay for it!” “I mean, he’s not bad-looking. The cougars love that tortured artist vibe.” Caleb soaked in the validation, his grin widening. He glanced at the ring on his finger, then back at my miserable state, his expression one of utter disgust. “Isabelle told me this ring of yours was some priceless heirloom. But you’re broke as a joke. How valuable could it really be? Probably a cheap knockoff.” He scoffed. “You’re the only one who thinks this piece of junk is a treasure.” As he spoke, he worked the ring off his finger. Then, before anyone—including Isabelle—could react, he slid open the glass door to the terrace, and with a flick of his wrist, he threw it. The signet ring carved a small, dark arc through the rain. With a tiny splash, it vanished into the churning water of the decorative river that ran alongside the mansion. “NO!” The word tore from my throat. It was the last thing my father ever gave me. My body moved before my mind could catch up. I sprinted for the terrace like a madman, ready to vault the railing and plunge into the freezing water. “NOAH!” Isabelle screamed. In a flash, she was on her feet, lunging from the wheelchair with a speed that belied two years of “paralysis.” She tackled me from behind, her arms locking around my waist, dragging me back from the edge. “Let go of me! Isabelle, let me GO!” I struggled against her, my eyes fixed in desperation on the murky water that had swallowed the last glint of my father’s ring. Cold rain and hot tears mingled on my face, blurring my vision. “Calm down! Are you going to kill yourself over a stupid ring?!” Isabelle’s voice was laced with a flicker of panic, but it was quickly overwhelmed by an impatient anger at my “irrational” behavior. A stupid ring? The only thing I had left of my father. Thrown away like a piece of trash by the man she loved. In that moment, all the anger, the grief, the humiliation, coalesced into a cold, dead calm. I stopped struggling, my body going rigid in her arms. “We’re done.” My voice was terrifyingly quiet. Isabelle’s body went stiff. Then she laughed, a shaky, incredulous sound. “Noah, don’t be ridiculous. I know you’re upset about the ring. I’ll make Caleb apologize! We can…” “I’m not being ridiculous.” I interrupted her, prying her fingers from my waist, one by one. I turned to face her, to look at the face that now filled me with nothing but disgust. “Two years, Isabelle. Aren’t you tired of the act? My father’s ring is gone. And any last feeling I had for you is gone with it. How much longer were you planning to play this game?” Her eyes flickered. Instantly, she put on the mask I knew so well—the fragile, helpless victim. “Noah, what are you talking about? My legs… they were really hurt, it’s just… they’ve gotten so much better with the treatments… Are you leaving me? I knew it. You always resented me, you were just looking for an excuse to abandon me!” She was trying to trap me again, using the same old guilt trips about her “paralysis” and my “abandonment.” Watching her flawless performance, I could only feel a weary sense of the absurd. I didn’t have the energy to argue, to explain, to say another word to her. I just bent down and picked up the empty, soiled delivery box from the floor. Without another glance at her or the crowd of hyenas on the terrace, I turned and walked back into the deluge. Behind me, I heard Caleb’s confused voice. “Isabelle, what’s the big deal? The secret’s out. You’re not actually upset for that psycho, are you?” “Don’t tell me a billionaire like you actually fell for a delivery boy.” I didn’t hear her answer. Since we were done, I didn’t need the job anymore. I called my manager to quit. He was surprised. “Noah? What happened? You’re one of my best guys. Aren’t you saving up for your girlfriend’s treatment?” “She’s better,” I said, a hollow smile on my face. “Completely cured.” “Hey! That’s fantastic news!” the manager said, his voice full of genuine happiness for me. “See? What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger! She’s going to treat you like a king now. You’ve earned it, kid. Your good karma is finally paying off.” Good karma. I laughed, a silent, bitter sound. Of course, it was Isabelle herself who had recommended this job to me—this job of baking in the sun and freezing in the rain, of being looked down upon and treated like dirt. She’d said it was to “help me carry the burden.” In reality, it was just another way to make me “suffer a little,” to get revenge for her darling Caleb. Well, it was over now. I packed my few belongings. The next day, I took my duffel bags and cardboard boxes to the most opulent hotel in the city. I must have been a sight, dragging my life’s possessions across the gleaming marble lobby. My presence was so out of place it immediately drew a constellation of stares. “Well, well, look what the cat dragged in. If it isn’t our hardest-working delivery boy, Noah!” The sharp, grating voice behind me made my stomach turn. It was Caleb. He and his pack of sycophants were here, too. I kept walking, ignoring him, but he had no intention of letting me go. He and his friends surrounded me, grinning like they were watching a monkey at the zoo. “What is this?” Caleb pinched his nose dramatically, as if I smelled. “A delivery boy? In the Grand Sovereign? Security! Security! Has your clientele really sunk this low? You’re letting in any stray dog off the street now? It’s filthy!” His friends chimed in immediately. “Seriously, he’s going to ruin the carpets!” “Oh, come on, Caleb, you forgot. The man is above material wealth, remember? So, what’s the plan, Noah? Now that your crippled girlfriend finally dumped you, you’re here to troll for a sugar mama?” The cacophony of their laughter echoed in the vast lobby. I listened to their twisted version of the truth, my eyes locking on Caleb’s, my jaw tight. “Get out of my way.” “You’re telling me to get out of your way? Ha!” Caleb’s face darkened, and he shoved me, hard. Caught off guard, I stumbled backward, my back slamming into a massive display cabinet filled with priceless vintages of wine and spirits. The entire structure shuddered violently. CRASH! TINKLE! Dozens of beautifully packaged, exorbitantly priced bottles—Château Lafite, Romanée-Conti, Macallan Rare Cask—cascaded to the floor, exploding in a shower of glass and liquid. The sound shocked the lobby into silence. Everyone stared, wide-eyed, at the devastation. Then, the silence was shattered by an even louder burst of laughter. “Hahaha! Look at that! You’re in for it now, you little pauper!” “Someone do the math! How many treasures did the hick just break?” “One bottle of Lafite, two Romanée-Conti, three Macallan Rare… oh my God, what’s the total on that?” “Got to be a few million, at least! Hahaha, they could sell his organs and it wouldn’t cover the cost!” “Can’t pay?” Caleb said, strolling forward with a malicious grin. “Simple. Get on your knees and lick the floor clean. For every drop you lick up, I’ll cover a drop’s worth of the bill. Can’t finish? Then you just keep licking. You lick until we’re satisfied! Hahaha!” The vile suggestion was met with enthusiastic agreement. “Yeah, get on your knees and lick it!” “Let’s see the delivery king lick the floor!” A couple of Caleb’s cronies closed in, grabbing my arms and forcing me down toward the puddle of expensive liquor and glittering glass shards. “Kneel! Lick it up!” “Do it, or we call the cops and have you thrown in jail right now!” A wave of pain and crushing humiliation washed over me. They twisted my arms behind my back, grabbed my hair, and forced my head down. With every ounce of strength I had left, I wrenched my head up and screamed, my voice raw. “I’m Noah Sterling! The sole heir to the Sterling Group! Anne Sterling is my mother!” A brief pause. Then, an even more violent explosion of ridicule. “Did he say he’s the heir to the Sterling Group?” “The billionaire CEO is his mom? Has he finally lost his mind? Did the shock break his brain?” “Yeah, right! If you’re a Sterling, then I’m the President of the United States!” Caleb was laughing so hard he was bent over, tears streaming from his eyes. “The Sterling heir? The Sterling heir is the owner of the Grand Sovereign Hotel Group. He’s engaged to my sister, Sophia Shaw! I won’t even make you call your mommy. Why don’t you get your fiancée to come down here and teach us a lesson, huh?” “He doesn’t even think before he lies. This is priceless.” In the midst of this ultimate degradation, a familiar figure appeared. It was Isabelle. She walked toward us, her dress flowing, her chin held high. When she saw me, a flicker of surprise and pity crossed her face. “Noah? Caleb? What’s going on here?” She surveyed the wreckage and my pathetic state on the floor, her brow furrowing. Then, her gaze settled on me, her voice dripping with condescension. “Noah, what have you done now? Did you cause more trouble?” She sighed. “But… if you ask me for help… if you beg me, for old times’ sake… maybe I can take care of this little mess for you…” The word “you” had barely left her lips when a commotion erupted at the hotel entrance. The crowd of onlookers parted instinctively. “I think that’s Sophia Shaw. She’s gorgeous.” “Of course she is. She was raised to be a queen. That kind of presence can’t be faked.” A woman in a perfectly tailored black dress, a chic blazer draped over her shoulders, strode into the lobby. Her eyes scanned the scene and locked onto me instantly. The moment she saw me being held on the floor, covered in filth, her face hardened into a mask of cold fury. “What,” she said, her voice dangerously low, “do you think you are doing?!”

The villain, grim and broken, hurled a teacup at me. “Get out,” he snarled. “Are you deaf?” I met his murderous gaze and, taking his hand, slowly traced two words onto his palm: I’m deaf. My System shrieked in my mind. “Host, what are you doing?!” “The only way to win him over is to be even more broken than he is.” I blinked at the villain, my eyes wide with a carefully crafted innocence, and continued to spell out my message. “I have a heart condition. Could you please… not be so mean?” A violent tremor shot through his hand. 1 “First a redemption mission, now a conquest mission. Are you guys sure you’ve got the right person?” I grumbled, carrying a tea tray down the second-floor hallway of the opulent mansion, the plush carpet muffling my footsteps. My conversation was purely internal, a back-and-forth with the System in my head. “And don’t forget which division I’m from.” “We haven’t forgotten, we promise! But you’re the only agent in the Transmigration Bureau with a 100% success rate, and this world is down to its last chance. If you fail, this reality collapses…” the System whined, its tone reminiscent of a spurned lover. “We don’t know what’s wrong with this villain. His Corruption Level isn’t even that high, but he’s just… unconquerable.” “I’ve read the files. You’ve all been using the wrong approach,” I said, nearing the bedroom at the end of the long hall. “This is a conquest mission, but every agent before me tried to redeem him.” The System sounded confused. “But for a corrupted villain, isn’t redemption the ultimate form of conquest?” “Not for him. He’s different. His darkness comes from betrayal—his own brother, the one he loved most, orchestrated the car crash that stole his legs and everything he ever owned.” “So? How does that make him different?” I stopped before the heavy oak door and tilted my head. “He was born a golden boy, the heir to a fortune, showered with love his entire life. To him, your brand of ‘redemption’ feels like pity. A handout. And he doesn’t need your pity.” “Then… what does he need?” the System asked. A slow smile crept across my face. I raised my hand and knocked. A single word roared from within the room: “Out.” Even through the thick wood, the raw, explosive fury in that voice was unmistakable. “When he’s like this, no one can get near him! Host, you’d better…” A soft creak cut off the System’s frantic warning. I had already pushed the door open and stepped inside. 2 The moment I entered, my eyes were drawn to the man in the wheelchair. His face was a masterpiece of sculpted angles, his brow sharp and severe. A thin sheen of sweat clung to his forehead, and the pained tension in his expression lent a tragic, fragile beauty to his otherwise cold features. His hands were gripping the armrests, his knuckles white as he struggled to push himself up. At the sound of the door, he froze, his head snapping up. His eyes, naturally shaped for charm and warmth, were now swirling with a dark, simmering rage. This was the villain of this world: Adrian Thorne. “Get. Out,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. I paused, blinking in feigned confusion, then walked past him toward a small side table to pour a cup of tea. Before he could roar at me again, I was holding it out to him. Adrian’s face was a mask of pure loathing. He snatched the cup from my hand and, in one violent motion, smashed it against my leg. The force of the movement sent scalding tea splashing across the back of his own hand, turning the skin an angry red in an instant. “I told you to get out! Are you deaf?” he roared. I glanced down at my soaked pants, then looked back up, meeting his murderous glare without flinching. Without warning, I reached out, took his hand, and turned it palm-up. “What are you—” Before he could pull away, my finger was tracing letters onto his skin. One slow, deliberate stroke at a time. I’m. Deaf. Adrian’s struggles ceased. After a long silence, the System screamed in my mind. “Host, what are you DOING?!” “Making myself more pathetic than him. It’s the only way.” While answering the System, I pulled a small notepad and pen from my pocket—prepared in advance, of course—and scribbled a few words. Then, blinking with wide, innocent eyes, I pressed the notepad into his hand. He looked down. His gaze fell upon the single line. “I have a heart condition. Could you please not be so mean?” A violent, uncontrollable tremor shot through Adrian’s hand. 3 Adrian Thorne was nothing like the villains who were forged in fire and misery from birth. He was the heir to the Northstar Corporation, born into staggering wealth and privilege, raised by loving parents. He had been a golden boy—bright, gentle, and kind. Five years ago, when his father’s illegitimate son, Jack, was brought into the family, Adrian had even welcomed him with open arms, treating him like a true brother. But no one in the Thorne family knew that Jack was a monster in sheep’s clothing. He played the part of the harmless, grateful outsider, slowly earning their trust while following Adrian into the corporate world. But five years wasn’t enough to tame the viper they’d welcomed into their home. When the time was right, Jack orchestrated two car crashes. The first killed Adrian’s parents instantly. The second left Adrian paralyzed from the waist down. Then, with a truly sadistic flourish, Jack kept Adrian a prisoner in the family mansion, forcing him to watch as he seized control of Northstar Corporation and even stole his fiancée. Jack was the true villain of this story, a textbook sociopath who dominated the early narrative. His pure, unadulterated evil only served to highlight how tragically compelling Adrian became when, pushed to the brink, he finally broke and became something far more terrifying. My arrival was perfectly timed. Adrian was a caged animal, Jack had solidified his power, and he was in the process of claiming Adrian’s fiancée for himself. I glanced at Adrian’s long, elegant fingers, the knuckles stark white as he crumpled the note. I knew, with certainty, that his Corruption Level was probably hovering at less than fifty percent. Just as I thought this, his hand moved. He took the pen from me and, after a brief pause, wrote two words. “Leave.” He didn’t say “get out” this time. “Host, it’s working!” the System chirped. I ignored its glee, my own eyes filling with manufactured tears as I took the notepad back. I bit my lip, my expression one of pure hurt. “I’m sorry.” After writing the words, I cast one last, wounded look at Adrian and turned to leave. “System,” I commanded internally, “give me some whip marks on my legs. Make them look like they were scalded and are now bleeding.” “Huh?” The System was baffled but complied. “Done.” The moment I took my first step, I buckled, doubling over as if in agony. “Make the blood drip onto the floor.” In my peripheral vision, I saw a trickle of red snake down my pant leg and pool on the pristine floorboards. The effect was a little… dramatic. My brow twitched. This was a bit much, even for me. Then, from behind me, came Adrian’s urgent voice. “Wait.” 4 I took another faltering step, putting on a full performance of ‘I’m in agony, but I’m trying to hide it, but I can’t, and oh, the shame.’ Adrian, remembering I was “deaf,” shoved his wheelchair forward, blocking my path. “Your leg…” he started, then stopped, frustrated. He snatched the notepad and scribbled, “What happened to your leg?” He followed it up with another question. “Do you know sign language?” A single tear rolled down my cheek as I began to sign. “My leg… it was already injured. The hot water just…” I trailed off, glancing meaningfully at the red, angry patch on the back of his hand. Adrian’s face darkened, his expression stormier than a thundercloud. He pointed to a nearby sofa. “Sit.” He then wheeled himself over to the phone by his bed and dialed a number. “Get the doctor up here. Now.” “Tsk, tsk. He’s a wreck himself, and he can still feel guilty for someone else. No wonder the readers used to call him a saint. And no wonder his brother played him for such a fool,” I mused to the System, my face a perfect mask of pitiable suffering. “That’s only because he hasn’t fully turned yet,” the System whispered back. “In the future, he’s basically Satan…” The future Satan hung up the phone and wheeled himself back over to me. He just sat there, lips pressed into a thin line, his deep eyes scrutinizing me as if trying to solve a puzzle. He was deciding what to do with me. I decided to strike first. I signed my pre-planned story: “I escaped and collapsed at the gates. The butler found me and brought me here.” “He told me to serve you. He said if I pleased you, I could stay.” It wasn’t a stretch. Every caregiver Adrian had was driven away within two days. The butler was desperate enough to hire a stray. “Please, don’t make me leave,” I signed, my hands trembling. “I don’t want to be dragged back there…” I left the sentence hanging, a perfect piece of bait. As expected, Adrian took it. “Back where? Where did you escape from?” “I don’t know what it was called. It was a red-brick estate. There were so many women locked inside. Men would come every day and… take their pick.” “The ones they took… some never came back. The ones who did… their clothes were always torn…” Adrian’s expression shifted, his face paling. I knew he’d filled in the blanks exactly as I wanted. “Because I can’t hear or scream for help, they weren’t watching me as closely.” I looked at him, my eyes wide and fearful. After a long moment, he finally signed back. “Your injuries…” “Before the red house… my foster father… he was violent…” Before Adrian could respond, the System cut in. “Host, don’t you think you’re laying it on a bit thick?” “Doesn’t matter. Buffs stacked to the max.” This was nothing. I might be losing a few story-patching points, but Adrian had lost his legs. I could be far, far more broken than this. 5 Jack was truly twisted. He kept Adrian imprisoned in the mansion, yet he didn’t mistreat him in the conventional sense. The food, the servants, the medical care—all were top-notch. When the doctor came to examine my leg, he had to roll up my pants. The moment the grotesque wound was exposed, Adrian flinched and sharply looked away. It was a masterpiece of illusion: a crisscrossing network of old and new scars. Across one section, angry red whip marks, blistered and split open, wept blood that traced patterns like dark ivy down my calf. It was gruesome. I was very pleased with the effect. I seized the opportunity to dismantle his defenses even further. “The injury won’t affect my work,” I signed desperately. “Please… please don’t send me away.” Adrian, true to his saintly reputation, couldn’t do it. Even half-corrupted, he let me stay at the Thorne mansion to recover. But the betrayal had left its mark. He let me stay, but that was all. He never asked me to serve him, never inquired about my recovery. It was as if he had forgotten I existed. A new maid was even hired to attend to him, and after two days, she was still here. The System was having a meltdown. “Host! Why aren’t you making a move on the target? He has a new maid!” I was living my best life, sprawled out on a luxurious bed, watching TV and eating imported fruit. “Relax. Conquest is all about timing.” “He has someone else to take care of him now! How are you going to get close?” I rolled my eyes. “I’m here to conquer him, not to be his maid. Someone else doing the grunt work is a good thing.” “…” The System went silent, fuming. It wasn’t until late that night, just after I’d fallen asleep, that it shrieked in my mind again. “Host, fire! The mansion is on fire!” I shot out of bed like a coiled spring, my eyes darting around the room, searching for the source. “Not here! It’s the villain’s room!” I knew this scene. It was one of Jack’s cruel games. The servants would be inexplicably deep in sleep, leaving Adrian to struggle for his life alone. He would painstakingly drag himself to the door, only to find it locked from the outside. The “rescuers” would arrive at the last possible second, pulling him from the brink of death. “This fire is supposed to leave him with severe burns and disfigure his face,” the System said urgently. I was calmly pouring myself a glass of water. “Host, go save him!” I took a long, slow sip and yawned. “See? The timing,” I said, a slow smile spreading across my face, “is perfect.” 6 Thick, black smoke was already seeping from under Adrian’s door. I calmly inserted a key into the lock. It didn’t turn. “Host, stop trying! It’s key number 3!” the System yelled. Hearing this, I promptly inserted key number 4. “Let him cook for a little longer. The closer he is to death, the more memorable his rescue will be.” The System sounded like it was having a stroke. “Tell me when he’s dragged himself halfway across the room.” A moment later, the System’s voice was frantic. “He’s there! He’s made it halfway!” I pulled out key number 3. The instant the door swung open, I hunched over, my face a mask of panic, and plunged into the inferno. The smoke was a thick, choking blanket, but I spotted him immediately—a crumpled figure on the floor. His face and clothes were smeared with soot, his hands clawing uselessly at the polished floorboards as flames licked at the walls around him like hungry beasts. He was a wreck. When he looked up and saw me, his first instinct was to snarl, “Get… out.” His voice was a raw, animalistic rasp. I faltered for a fraction of a second, then lunged toward him, grabbing him by the shoulders. He tried to push me away. “Go…” His strength was gone, but I used the weak shove as an excuse to stumble backward, my face turned upward in theatrical alarm. “System, now! Drop the chandelier on me!” CRASH! The heavy crystal fixture slammed into my head, its jagged edges raking across my face as it fell, carving a deep, bloody gash from my temple to my cheek. While Adrian was still reeling from the shock, I grit my teeth against the (simulated) pain, hauled him onto my shoulder, and charged out of the room. “Host, what in the world are you doing?!” “I’m already here. Might as well get a disfiguring scar out of it,” I replied, my mind clear and exhilarated. “He’s going to feel so damn guilty about this.” As the System fell into a stunned silence, I carried Adrian to the top of the grand staircase. The commotion had finally been loud enough to rouse the “sleeping” servants, who were now making their way upstairs. The moment I saw them, I let out a sigh of relief, closed my eyes, and let myself collapse. But I didn’t hit the hard floor. Just before I went down, a pair of arms wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me into a protective embrace. I fell into a chest that smelled of smoke and ash, and I could feel the arms holding me tremble. “See? He’s worried,” I told the System smugly. “Host… you have no heart,” it whimpered. “Of course not,” I replied coolly. “I’m having a heart attack, remember?” 7 I woke from a deep, satisfying sleep to the sound of someone coughing. My eyes fluttered open and met Adrian’s. His face was pale and drawn with exhaustion. He had a fist pressed to his mouth, trying to stifle the coughs. When he saw I was awake, he tried even harder to suppress them, but failed. He signed shakily, his body wracked with spasms. “Are you… okay? Does anything hurt?” I stared at him, momentarily stunned. “Host, Adrian has been sitting by your side for two days and two nights,” the System said, its voice dripping with resentment. “There’s only one doctor in the mansion. He made the doctor treat you first, and neglected his own condition. He inhaled too much smoke. He’s probably going to have permanent lung damage…” A sudden wave of irritation washed over me. “System, who is your host? Me, or Adrian Thorne?” The System let the truth slip. “You’re the head of the Annihilation Division. You’re infinitely more dangerous than he is…” “So you do know who I am. Which means you also know I’ve dismantled more than ten systems with my bare hands.” The System immediately shut up and scurried away into the recesses of my mind. I raised a hand to rub my temples, trying to quell an unfamiliar flicker of annoyance. Before my fingers could touch my skin, another hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. Adrian’s eyes were dark pools of intensity as he stared at my face. A flash of pure fury crossed his features. “It will heal,” he signed, his movements firm and resolute. He released my wrist. “I’ll find the best doctors. I won’t let it scar.” I only then noticed the bandages covering the left side of my face, from my eye down to my jaw. The chandelier had done its job perfectly. “It’s okay. My face doesn’t matter,” I signed back, my expression soft, my eyes curving into a gentle smile. “As long as you’re safe.” Adrian froze, his lips parting slightly. He quickly looked away, but not before I saw the tips of his fingers curl into a fist on his lap. “I wasn’t going to kick you out,” he said, his voice a low murmur, before switching back to sign language. “You… you didn’t have to do that.” “I didn’t do it to stay.” I held his gaze, my own expression sincere and unwavering. “I came here for you.” After I finished signing, I beamed at him and formed a large, deliberate heart with my hands. Adrian’s pupils contracted sharply. He turned his head away, a muscle twitching in his jaw. But on his lap, his fingers slowly, almost imperceptibly, uncurled.

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I wrote 999 love letters to finally win over Stella Gleason, the ice queen of our university. But the day before our wedding, I overheard her complaining to her childhood friend about the typos in them. “It’s like a little kid wrote these. He should’ve just used an AI!” In that instant, I called off the wedding and pulled every last cent of my investment from her family’s company. Stella’s scream was pure panic. “It was just a joke between friends! You’d cancel our wedding over that?” Without a word, I brought up the AI marriage forecast I’d run on us. “You love AI so much? Then take a good long look,” I said, my voice flat. “A ‘catastrophic’ rating. You want that marriage? I wouldn’t touch it. It’s bad luck.” 1 Less than ten minutes after the investment was pulled, Stella kicked open the door to my office. “Kian, can’t you take a joke? Besides, Leo wasn’t wrong. Your letters did have typos!” I didn’t even bother to look up. I spoke to my secretary, who had followed her in. “Get the trading desk on the line. I want to pour a hundred million into Gleason’s biggest competitor. Short them into the ground.” Shock bloomed across Stella’s perfect face. “Are you insane? Do you have any idea how much money you’ll lose? Don’t think I won’t call your father right now!” Still trying to use my father against me? A cold smile touched my lips. I turned back to my secretary. “What are you waiting for? If the Gleason Corporation is still standing in an hour, you can clear out your desk.” “Wait!” For the first time, genuine fear flickered in Stella’s eyes. She walked toward me, her head bowed. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her eyes welling up. “I was wrong. I’ll do anything you want, just… please don’t pull the funding.” I remained silent. She fumbled in her pocket and pulled out a simple, plain silver band. “I made this for you. For our wedding. Please, Kian, don’t be angry.” Her voice was soft, pleading. “The only reason I even noticed the typos was because I read every single word of every letter you sent me. I didn’t mean anything by it.” I waved a hand, dismissing my secretary. Seeing my resolve soften, Stella threw her arms around my neck and planted a quick, wet kiss on my cheek. “I booked a table at that French bistro you love. Let’s go now, we can talk over the final details for the wedding?” I looked into her hopeful eyes, and for a moment, my heart stirred. I was about to speak when the door burst open again. Leo rushed in and dropped to his knees in front of me. “Mr. Hayes, if you’re angry, take it out on me! Don’t you dare bully Stella.” He shot a protective glare at me. “She’s your fiancée, not some dog you can just kick around!” Then he turned to Stella, holding up his hand. On his ring finger was another plain silver band. “It’s a perfect fit, Stella. Thank you. This time, I swear I’ll protect you. I won’t let a bastard like Kian ruin you!” My eyes narrowed. The ring on his finger was a perfect match for the one Stella had just given me. Hers was a man’s ring. Mine was a woman’s. It turns out she was just regifting. And I got the girl’s ring. A wave of nausea washed over me, so strong it almost made me laugh. “Protect her?” I sneered. “Let’s start by calculating the penalty for trespassing in the CEO’s office.” Before I could finish, Stella moved, placing herself between me and Leo. “This is between us, Kian. Don’t drag anyone else into it. I told you, I’ll do whatever you want.” My fiancée, standing against me to protect her lover. I knew why. When the Gleason family went bankrupt years ago, Leo had dropped Stella and fled the country without a second thought. I was the one who stayed by her side. I ignored my board of directors and poured all my resources into her family’s failing company. Now that Gleason Inc. was finally back on its feet, her parents pushed for this marriage, eager to lock me in for good. They wanted my money and resources, no strings attached. And my grandmother… my grandmother had always adored Stella. She’d made it clear that Stella was the only woman she’d ever accept as her granddaughter-in-law. For Nana’s sake, to fulfill her dying wish, I was willing to overlook the money. I thought we would build a life together, that it would all work out. I never imagined Leo’s return would shatter everything. With that thought, my decision was made. My voice was ice. “Fine. You want the wedding to happen? Then from this moment on, you will never speak to him again.” 2 In the end, Stella deleted every one of Leo’s contacts in front of me. She even threw both of the offending silver rings into the trash. Watching Leo stalk out of my office, his face a mask of resentment, I felt a knot of anger in my chest finally loosen. I told my secretary the wedding was back on. After dinner, Stella said she needed her beauty sleep to be at her best for the big day. I didn’t think much of it and drove off to my bachelor party. Halfway through the night, my phone started vibrating nonstop. I pulled it out to see a notification from the security system at our new house. The smart mattress was sending an alert. When we were furnishing the place, I’d gone with the principle that more expensive is always better. The salesman had sold me on this high-tech mattress, boasting that it could track… activity… and would automatically send an alert if it detected any unusual frequencies. We weren’t supposed to move in until after the wedding tomorrow. The house should have been empty. A dark premonition washed over me. Ignoring my friends’ protests, I jumped in my car and sped home. The moment I walked in the door, I saw them: a trail of clothes, carelessly discarded on the living room floor. And from the master bedroom, I could hear the soft, unmistakable sounds of a man and a woman. I kicked the bedroom door open. Startled by the crash, Stella screamed, her naked body instinctively shrinking behind Leo. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what they’d been doing. A moment later, her shock turned to outrage. “Kian! Are you spying on me?” I held up my phone, the screen glowing with a red line of alerts. “Is this what you call beauty sleep?” A flicker of guilt crossed her face, but she quickly covered it, pulling the sheets around her as she tried to defend herself. “Leo and I grew up together! We used to sleep in the same bed as kids, we even took baths together! It’s not a big deal.” She pressed on, her voice gaining confidence. “Besides, I just wanted to say a proper goodbye. I promise you, after tonight, we’ll never see each other again.” While she spoke, Leo casually slipped into the silk robe I had bought specifically for my wedding night and sauntered over to me. “Hey, man,” he said, a smug look on his face. “Real love is about letting go, not control. She’s not even officially your wife yet. Tracking her like this? Not cool.” I gave him a look of utter contempt. “Fine,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “I’ll let go right now. Let’s see if Stella dares to go with you.” At my words, Leo immediately turned and grabbed her hand. “Stella, you just told me you don’t have any feelings for him! Come with me. Please?” I waited, curious myself. Between love and money, what would she choose? After a long, tense moment, Stella slowly pulled her hand away from Leo’s. “You should go,” she said, her voice quiet. “Tomorrow, I’ll be a part of the Hayes family. We can’t see each other anymore.” Leo looked like he was about to argue, but Stella gave him a sharp push. He shot me a venomous look, as if I were some villain who had stolen his maiden fair. As Leo turned to leave, my voice cut through the silence. “Stop.” He froze. “Are you so broke you have to steal my robe? Take it off.” 3 I’d noticed it the moment I walked in. In their haste, they’d torn each other’s clothes to shreds. Stella’s face paled as she realized it too. “Kian, that’s just cruel! You can’t be serious. You’re going to make him walk out of here naked?” “Cruel?” The word was so absurd I almost laughed. “Let’s not forget, Stella, we’re not married yet. This house isn’t yours. You brought a stranger into my private residence in the middle of the night and used my things without permission. How do you think that would play in front of a judge?” Her face flushed with anger, but she couldn’t say a word. Trembling, Leo untied the belt of the robe, his voice laced with false humility. “I’m sorry, Kian. It was my mistake. I shouldn’t have worn your robe.” As the silk fell open, I saw them clearly: the angry red marks and scratches covering his chest. A testament to just how passionate their “goodbye” had been. Before I could say anything else, Stella stepped in front of him, shielding him with her body. “That’s enough, Kian! It’s a stupid robe! Do you have to push things this far?” She reached into her purse, pulled out a couple of crisp hundred-dollar bills, and threw them in my face. “There! I’ve bought it for him. Are you happy now?” The sharp edge of a bill caught my cheek, leaving a thin, stinging line of red. Stella’s voice, now dripping with venom, filled the room. “I never loved you. Not for a second. If your family wasn’t so powerful, do you think I would have ever agreed to this marriage? You’re only marrying me to make your grandmother happy, Kian. So don’t you dare act like you have any right to tell me what to do!” I stared down at the crumpled bills on the floor and let out a cold, empty laugh. She was right. I had no right. I met Leo’s triumphant gaze and offered him a faint, chilling smile. “Do whatever you want.” With that, I turned and walked out. I drove home alone. As soon as I stepped through the door, my phone buzzed with a text from her. [Don’t be late for the wedding tomorrow.] I knew what it was. Her idea of an apology. She’d done things like this before. After sneaking off to meet Leo, she’d come home and make me my favorite pasta. After ditching a family dinner with my parents to see him, she’d send a text offering to pick me up from work. She was too proud to ever truly apologize, so she offered these small, hollow gestures instead. My friends had seen it for what it was. They told me to cut her loose, to let her go. But I kept giving her chances. One after another. I always told myself it was for Nana. My grandmother was getting older, her memory fading. Some days she didn’t even recognize me, but she always, always recognized Stella as the woman I was meant to marry. I couldn’t bear to disappoint her. So I allowed it. I allowed Stella’s parents to sell her to me like a prized mare. But there were good times, too. I couldn’t forget them. It was Stella who had proposed to me, in front of all the cameras, declaring to the world that she wanted to be my wife. Whatever happened, I decided, I would see the wedding through. And then, afterward, we would have a final, definitive reckoning. I just never imagined it would come so soon. The next day, I arrived at the venue in my tuxedo, only to be blocked at the entrance by a wall of security guards. They gestured toward a large sign posted by the door. In bold letters, it read: NO DOGS OR KIAN HAYES ALLOWED. 4 For a second, I just stood there, stunned. Then my eyes landed on the giant wedding portrait. Instead of my face next to Stella’s, there was a beaming photo of her and Leo. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I pulled out my phone and dialed her number. She answered on the second ring, but I cut her off before she could speak. “Is this your idea of a final reckoning?” I demanded. Her voice was calm, almost breezy. “The wedding was always just for show, for your Nana’s sake. And don’t worry, I already had someone pick her up and bring her here.” She paused. “So please, Kian, just let me have this one thing. Let me marry the man I love. I promise, after the ceremony is over, I’ll go to city hall with you and sign the papers.” Then she hung up. My mind snagged on one phrase: I already had someone pick her up. My grandmother was frail. She was kept alive by a cocktail of medications. She couldn’t handle being shuffled around like that! Panic seized me. I lunged for the doors, determined to find her, to get an explanation. But the guards were a solid wall, their grip like iron. The next thing I knew, I was being shoved backward, tumbling down the stone steps. A slow, mocking clap echoed from the top of the stairs. Leo stood there, dressed in a custom-tailored tuxedo, looking down at me with pure contempt. “Well, well, Kian. Putting on a little show for us?” he drawled. “Today’s my wedding day, you know. A bit rude to show up empty-handed. You and your grandmother both, tsk tsk.” I ignored his taunts, scrambling to my feet and grabbing him by the collar. “Where is she? Where is my grandmother?” Just then, Stella came running out of the hall, her white wedding gown trailing behind her. Her brow was furrowed in annoyance. “Kian!” she snapped. “You lay one finger on him and I swear…” I didn’t even look at her. My eyes were locked on Leo. “Where is my Nana?” A cruel smirk spread across Leo’s face. He suddenly threw his arms around me, making it look like we were wrestling, and we both tumbled back down the stairs. “Your senile old grandma wouldn’t believe I was the groom,” he whispered in my ear, his voice dripping with malice. “Kept insisting I take her to find Stella. So, I locked her in one of the cars on the street.” He chuckled. “It’s got to be over a hundred degrees today. If you don’t hurry, she might just bake in there.” My heart stopped. With a roar of pure fury, I drove my fist into his face. Then I scrambled away, stumbling toward the line of wedding cars parked along the curb. And there, in the passenger seat of the lead car, I saw her—a small, familiar, fragile silhouette. I pounded on the window, my eyes darting around for a rock, anything to break the glass. “Nana! Can you hear me? Nana!” It was the middle of the day, the sun beating down relentlessly. Inside that sealed metal box, the temperature would be lethal. For someone as frail as my grandmother, every second was critical. I stopped looking for a tool. I raised my fist and slammed it against the window. Again. And again. After a dozen blows, my hand was numb and bleeding, but the glass finally shattered. I reached through the jagged opening, ignoring the shards slicing into my skin, unlocked the door, and gently lifted her out. Her eyes were closed. She didn’t respond to my calls. In that moment, I wanted to tear Leo limb from limb. Looking at her face, ashen and still, my vision blurred with tears. “Nana, just hold on. The ambulance is on its way. I’m taking you to the hospital, just hold on!”

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Ever since my brother found out I wasn’t his real sister, he’s been ice-cold. The pain was a constant, sharp ache in my chest. I was packing my bags, ready to get the hell out, when I stumbled upon his journal. 【It’s over. She’s not my real sister. I can’t control myself anymore.】 【God, I want to taste my sweet little sister’s…】 【She crawled into my bed last night, her face flushed from the heat, whimpering my name like a prayer. It’s going to be the death of me.】 【She can’t even solve a simple calculus problem. The anger makes my heart ache. I just want to take a whip to her.】 【The shower is so damn small, and she still insists on squeezing in. Doesn’t she know I could pin her against the tiles until her eyes lose focus?】 【If she calls me ‘brother’ one more time, I’ll ship her off to the Arctic to pluck weeds.】 I snapped the journal shut. My feet carried me down to the basement, my movements silent and deliberate. My hands, trembling slightly, closed around a set of chains, a candle, and a leather whip. Brother, you get to punish me during the day. But at night… it’s my turn. … When I got home from class, Liam was doing laundry. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt and black slacks, his broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist. The sleeves were rolled up, revealing the strong, corded muscles of his forearms. “Brother, you’re home early,” I chirped, wrapping my arms around his waist from behind and resting my head against his back. His whole body went rigid. After a beat, he resumed his task, his voice a shard of ice. “Lily, let go.” Just then, my eyes landed on the pile of clothes he’d set aside on the floor—my lace bra and camisole. A bitter sting pricked my nose. Just a few days ago, before the DNA test results came back, he wasn’t like this. Was blood really all that mattered to him? When my biological parents had shown up, I’d refused to even meet them. They abandon me for eighteen years and then decide they want me back now that I’m an adult? What kind of joke was that? My adoptive parents—our parents—insisted on not getting a DNA test, saying I would always be their daughter. But Liam… my brother… he was the one who had to confirm it, to shatter that last shred of hope that we were connected by blood. And now, in just a few short days, we’d become so distant that he couldn’t even stand to wash our clothes together. “Hmph. Fine, I’ll let go,” I snapped, kicking his shin playfully, though there was real anger behind it. “I’m moving out tomorrow anyway! You can have this whole mansion to yourself. I don’t want to be a burden, living under your roof!” I snatched my clothes and stormed off. Tears streamed down my face as I started to rewash my things in the sink. Wait a minute… where were my panties? They must have gotten lost in the shuffle. At dinner, an unspoken truce hung between us. Liam was silent, his focus entirely on placing more food onto my plate. I was still fuming, stubbornly shoveling food into my mouth without looking at him. Then, a red folder slid into my line of sight. “I transferred the deed to you a while ago,” Liam said, his tone casual, almost dismissive. “The house is yours. Don’t overthink it.” Because my university and his company were in the same city, our parents had bought this villa for us to share. It was easier than dorms, and he could drive me to and from campus. We’d grown up side-by-side, inseparable. He did my laundry, cooked my meals… he spoiled me more than our parents ever did. Everyone used to joke that he was a cold-hearted CEO to the world, but at home, he was just a pathetic simp for his sister. I had pushed myself to get into Avalon University just for him, just so we could keep living together. That way, when a horror movie scared me, I could still crawl into his bed. I could keep basking in the warmth of his affection. But that single, sterile piece of paper—the DNA report—had shattered everything. He’d become cold. Distant. I thought he was afraid I’d try to fight him for the family inheritance. But now he was just… giving me the house. Maybe I was the one with the twisted mind. Later that night, while Liam was in the shower, I snuck into his room, burrowing under his covers just like I used to. His bed smelled of ebony and sandalwood, an austere and sensual scent that was a perfect match for his restrained intensity. I was happily breathing it in when a flash of white under his pillow caught my eye. I tugged at it. It was my lace panties. My face went nuclear-hot. They were the ones from the laundry… the unwashed ones. What were they doing here? Click. The bathroom door opened. I dove back under the covers instantly. Peeking through a tiny gap, I saw Liam. His chest was bare, droplets of water tracing a path from his sharp jawline, over his Adam’s apple, and down to the sharp V of his hips, where a pair of silk pajama pants hung precariously. As he towel-dried his hair, the fabric swayed, and my gaze involuntarily dropped to the prominent bulge beneath. Note to self: next time I buy him underwear, go up a size. No wonder he never even opened the last pack I got him. A strange heat began to creep through my body. It was probably just stuffy under the blankets. He finished with his hair and slid into bed. The cool, smooth feel of his skin so close sent a shiver of excitement through me. Before he could react, I popped my head out from under the comforter, a sweet, innocent smile plastered on my face. “Lily! Get out!” His voice was louder than usual, sharp with authority. “Didn’t I tell you? You’re not allowed in my bed anymore!” He was yelling at me again. The force of his words stunned me. A wave of hurt washed over me, and my eyes welled with tears. “Why are you yelling at me? Don’t you even want to know why I came in here?” Seeing my tears, he immediately softened, a flicker of panic in his eyes. “What’s wrong? Okay, don’t cry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled. Just… talk to me.” Crying had always been my secret weapon against him. He couldn’t stand to see me cry. “I’m sorry, brother,” I choked out between sobs. “I misunderstood you earlier. I shouldn’t have said those things.” He was so good to me, and I’d accused him of such awful motives. A stray piece of my hair fell across his cheek. He sighed, and his hand lifted, an instinctual move to tuck it behind my ear. But he stopped, his fingers hovering in the air between us. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting some internal battle, before balling his hand into a fist and pulling it back. We were so close, my body sprawled over his. As our eyes met, I saw his pupils dilate, his breathing becoming ragged and shallow. “Brother,” I whispered. “Hmm?” I shifted uncomfortably. “Something’s… digging into me.” His arm tightened around me like a steel band, pinning me in place. “Don’t move,” he growled, his voice thick. “Brother, let me go, it’s uncomfortable.” “Don’t call me that.” What? So we couldn’t be real siblings, and now we couldn’t even be regular siblings? This corporate shark was truly heartless. Fine. See if I’d listen. “Brother, brother, brother…” I taunted, chanting the word over and over. His Adam’s apple bobbed with a hard swallow, his long lashes trembling with the effort of his restraint. “If you say that one more time, I’ll ruin you.” The last two words were ground out between clenched teeth. I stuck my tongue out at him. “Brother, brother!” I wasn’t going to let him win. If he didn’t want me to say it, I’d scream it. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” And then he moved, pulling me down hard against him. My eyes flew open as he buried his face in the curve of my neck. His damp hair brushed against my collarbone, and his hot breath sent sparks across my skin. A low, desperate groan escaped his throat, a sound that sent a jolt of pure electricity from the crown of my head to the tips of my toes. His knee nudged my legs apart. “Liam,” I gasped, my sharp cry cutting through the charged silence. In my panic, my nails dug into his back, leaving a thin red line. I heard him hiss in a sharp breath. With a sudden, violent shove, Liam pushed me away. He scrambled out of bed and fled into the en-suite bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, my mind a complete blank. A sliver of light escaped from under the bathroom door. I could see his tall, lean silhouette moving behind the frosted glass. God, his body was incredible—broad shoulders, narrow hips, every movement hinting at a tightly coiled strength. I remembered the feeling of that strength pinning me down, flipping me over… and my face began to burn again. If I hadn’t stopped him… My thoughts were still drifting when his shadow disappeared from the door. The main bedroom’s bathroom was set further back, but if I listened closely, I could still hear the shower turn on. The sound of rushing water filled the room, but beneath it, I could hear something else. Low, restrained gasps. Pained, desperate breaths. The sound of the water and his labored breathing washed over me, a strange, intoxicating symphony. Minutes ticked by. I told myself I’d wait for him to come out, wish him goodnight, and go back to my own room. But he was taking forever. Could he have passed out from the steam? “Are you okay in there?” I called out, a genuine thread of concern in my voice. “You’ve been in there for a while.” Silence. Then, his voice came, rough and raw. “Lily.” “Yeah?” “Walk over to the bathroom door.” I did as he asked, my bare feet silent on the plush carpet. “Liam, are you sure you’re okay?” The frosted glass reflected my own fuzzy image. I couldn’t see anything else. “Good. Stop right there. Don’t move.” His voice was even thicker now, his breathing more ragged, more urgent. It built and built until a final, choked-off groan tore from his throat. Then, silence. That night, I had a dream. I dreamt I was in his shower. Under the spray of hot water, he was looking down at me, coaxing me to open my mouth. I refused. The next second, his hand shot out, cupping my jaw, forcing my lips apart, wider and wider. He covered my eyes with his other hand. I was blind, but my other senses were on fire. I could hear the rustle of fabric, and then a torrent of fire was forced into my mouth. It wasn’t his usual cold arrogance; this was lava flowing just beneath a sheet of ice. My mouth was full, I couldn’t speak, only struggle against the burning sensation as it filled me, consumed me. Finally, when I couldn’t take any more, he pulled back, removing the hand from my eyes. The next morning, I woke up to a faint, sticky residue crusted at the corner of my mouth. I must have been drooling again, I thought. I knew sleeping with my mouth open was a bad habit; I even used those little mouth tapes to try and correct it. But every morning, the tape was gone, probably ripped off in my sleep. I really needed better self-control. “Liam, Lily, are you two awake?” Mom’s voice, a welcome and familiar sound, drifted in from the living room. Mom was here! Forgetting everything else, I bolted out of my room. She drove into town once a month to see us, always bringing her homemade strawberry jam and kimchi, and she’d usually tidy up the house for us. This time, along with the food, she’d brought me a gift: a butterfly-back dress. Her eyes were full of warmth as she held it up. “The moment I saw this in the store, I thought of you. I told your father, ‘Our Lily will look like an absolute angel in this.’” I held the dress against myself, hesitating. “It’s beautiful, Mom, but… isn’t it a little revealing? I’ve never even worn a skirt that doesn’t go past my knees.” This thing was so short, I felt like I’d flash someone just by bending over. Mom examined it again. “Well, it is a little sexy, I suppose. But you’re a college girl now, Lily! You can’t live in white t-shirts and jeans forever. A change of style is good! And this dress is perfect for you.” “But—” Before I could finish, Liam walked out of his room for breakfast. Mom immediately grabbed him, seeking his approval. “Liam, look! Isn’t this dress perfect for your sister?” He glanced at the dress, then at me, his expression unreadable. He gave Mom a clipped, dismissive “Mm-hmm.” That was all the encouragement she needed. “Then you’ll wear this on your date with Ethan this weekend! The Sanders family adores you. Mrs. Sanders was just telling me the other day…” At the mention of Ethan, I blushed. Ethan Sanders was Liam’s best friend and the heir to the Sanders Corp fortune. He’d even provided the seed money for Liam’s startup. Our parents had always hoped Ethan and I would get together; the alliance would be a huge boost for Liam’s company. Liam, who had been quietly eating his breakfast, cut Mom off. “It’s ugly. The dress is hideous, and it’ll look even worse on her.” “Hey! Don’t you talk about your sister that way.” “She’s not my sister,” Liam said, his voice dropping ten degrees. “Liam!” Mom’s voice shot up an octave. She was furious. The atmosphere in the living room turned thick and heavy. Mom glared at Liam, her lips a thin, hard line. I looked down, my hands twisting the hem of my shirt, my eyes starting to burn. Seeing my distress, Mom’s expression softened. She stroked my cheek gently before turning her glare back on her son. “Liam, if you ever say that again, you are no son of mine. As long as your father and I are alive, Lily is, and always will be, your sister.” “Oh my god, Ethan is going to lose his damn mind.” My cousin, Chloe, was practically vibrating with excitement after I’d filled her in and shown her the dress. I rolled my eyes. “Please. A guy like that has seen every kind of beautiful woman there is.” She wagged a finger at me. “Nuh-uh. The way that man looks at you… it’s so gentle. You’re exactly his type.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “Wow, listen to you, the relationship expert. So how does your god-tier guy look at you?” She paused to think. “Ethan’s gentle. My guy… he’s not. He looks at me like he wants to devour me whole.” Chloe had transformed into a self-proclaimed love guru ever since she started college. “The way he looks at me is… oh, I know! It’s the same way Liam looks at you!” “Ahem!” I nearly choked on my water. “You can talk crap about anything else, but not that.” “Fine, don’t believe me,” she said, fiddling with a charm on my backpack. “So, any plans for the long weekend?” “Liam’s teaching me how to bake. He already bought all the ingredients; I just need to be ready.” Her eyes lit up with mischief. She leaned in close, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Ooh, he’s got everything ready for you, huh?” She put a suggestive emphasis on the word ‘everything.’ “Huh?” It took me a second to catch her drift. “I mean, Liam hits the gym all the time, right? He must have crazy stamina. Can your little body even handle that?” Her meaning slammed into me. This girl’s mind was permanently in the gutter. I flicked her forehead. “You’re insane. Liam and I are siblings.” “So? Not by blood,” she shot back, leaning in even closer, her eyes gleaming. “Don’t you think the whole forbidden step-sibling thing is way hotter?” “You’re impossible.” … We horsed around until, before we knew it, the sky had grown dark and Liam was calling us for dinner. Just before we left my room, Chloe insisted I try on the dress. I slipped it on, and her eyes went wide. She pushed me in front of the full-length mirror. “Damn, girl. If you wore this with black stockings, Liam would be good for ten rounds a night.” I stared at my reflection. The iridescent lavender fabric clung to my curves, highlighting my collarbones, my narrow waist, my long legs. Chloe had swept my dark hair into a messy bun, letting a few wisps fall around the nape of my neck. The look was somehow both sweet and dangerously alluring. Seeing myself like this for the first time made me blush. I was just about to change when the door swung open. “This is the third time I’ve called you two for dinner. What are you doing in here?” Liam stood in the doorway, a spatula still in his hand. I had just started to unzip the dress. His gaze landed on my bare legs, then quickly darted away, but not before I saw the tips of his ears turn a deep shade of red. The air between the three of us crackled and froze. “Get dressed. And come eat,” he muttered, turning on his heel and all but running from the room. At the dinner table, Chloe kept casually bringing up my upcoming date with Ethan. Liam, who had been silent all evening, finally spoke, his voice low and firm. “Don’t go see him this weekend.” I was taken aback. “Why not? You were always fine with it before. You said he was a gentle guy, that he’d be good to me.” He placed a perfectly peeled shrimp in my bowl. “Things are different now.” “What’s different?” “You’re not my sister anymore.” There it was again. That phrase. I put down my chopsticks and looked him straight in the eye. “So, because I’m not your sister, I don’t even have the right to date your best friend? Is that it?” He wouldn’t meet my gaze, focusing on peeling another shrimp for me. “That’s not what I meant.” “Uh… Lily, cuz… my boyfriend just called. He’s going into labor—I mean, his cat is! Gotta go!” Chloe sensed the impending explosion, grabbed her bag, and bolted. Liam sighed heavily. “If you insist on seeing him, fine. Just don’t wear that dress.” A stubborn fire ignited in me. I was going to get to the bottom of this tonight. I stormed back to my room, not only putting the butterfly dress back on but also pulling on a pair of black stockings I’d never worn before. The mirror reflected a stranger with long, slender legs. Full of newfound confidence, I flung open my door. “Liam. Open your eyes and take a good, hard look. Tell me exactly what’s so ugly about this. If you can’t find a single flaw, then this is what I’m wearing on my date.” Liam’s eyes locked onto me, his dark pupils swimming in ink. A storm of suppressed emotion churned within them, like the oppressive, heavy sky before a hurricane. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, his voice thick and hoarse when he finally spoke. “Lily, don’t push me.” The next thing I knew, I was being lifted onto his lap, the familiar scent of dark woods and spice overwhelming my senses. The dim light cast our entangled shadows against the pale curtains. His hand came to rest on my thigh. The calloused pads of his fingers were a stark, rough contrast against the smooth silk of the stockings, sending a tremor through my entire body. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Lily, the reason I don’t want you to wear this dress… is because I’m afraid he’ll hurt you.” His voice was low, pleading. “You don’t understand men.” I gathered my courage. “And you? Do you want to hurt me?” I shifted, straddling him, my arms wrapping around his neck. The move closed the already nonexistent distance between us. I could see the thick fan of his lashes, the raw, unguarded emotion in his eyes. His breathing grew heavier, hotter. “You have no idea what you’re asking for, Lily.” Riiiiip. The sound of tearing fabric filled the silent room. My stockings. My dress. He was destroying it. Seeing the loss of control in his eyes, a real sense of panic began to set in. “Brother,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Don’t call me that!” he snarled. “And don’t look at me with those eyes!” At the same time, he surged upward. The sudden, intense pain made tears spring to my eyes, hot and fast. “Liam, calm down—” My words were smothered as his mouth crashed down on mine. He wasn’t just kissing me; he was consuming me, trying to devour me whole. In the chaotic haze, the hem of my ruined dress was pushed up to my waist. The dam of my tears broke, flooding my cheeks.

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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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