Category: English

Working late, past midnight, I was waiting for a file to export and decided to kill time by scrolling through TikTok. The video on my screen showed a girl clutching a bouquet of flowers at an airport arrivals gate. When she saw the person she was waiting for, she launched herself into his arms. He laughed, catching her in a tight embrace. The caption read: “My rock is back.” I froze. The man in the video had just wished me goodnight an hour ago. I dialed Jack’s number, my voice eerily calm. “Where are you?” The sound of loud music and laughter crackled through the phone. “Out with the riding crew,” he said breezily. “You’re so far away, Winnie. It gets lonely out here, they’re the only ones I’ve got to talk to.” Before I could answer, another voice cut in, “Yo, Jack, your shot! Stop slacking.” 1. In the back of the cab on the way home, I couldn’t resist opening the video again. There was no mistaking it. The shirt Jack was wearing—I’d picked it out myself. I scrolled to the comments. Someone had asked the girl if he was her boyfriend. She’d replied openly: *[Just my best riding buddy!] * Her profile was filled with photos from their motorcycle trips. Jack had loved riding since college. After he was transferred to the Chicago branch, he didn’t know a soul. He told me he’d found a few people on a local forum to ride with. He’d never hidden any of it from me. But he never told me one of his “buddies” was a girl like this. The next morning, I grabbed the suitcase I’d already packed and headed for the airport. After landing in Chicago, I went straight to the Sterling Corporation tower. The receptionist greeted me warmly, taking my luggage. “Ms. Thorne! We heard HQ was sending a new Director of Operations. I had no idea it was you.” She gave me a conspiratorial wink. “Mr. Heston is upstairs. I’ll take you up.” I smiled back at her, but as I stepped into the elevator, my breath hitched in my chest. Since Jack’s transfer, we had been long-distance for two years. Two years of working our asses off, climbing the ladder in our respective cities. And now, finally, I was here. I could stand in his city, under the same sky. The elevator stopped smoothly on the nineteenth floor. The doors slid open, and a pair of eyes immediately locked onto me. The receptionist gestured to a beautiful young woman in a chic tweed suit. “This is Mr. Heston’s new assistant, Chloe.” Then she turned back to me. “And this is—” I cut her off. “I’m the new Director of Operations from headquarters, Winnie Thorne.” The woman opposite me hesitated for a fraction of a second before addressing me. “Ms. Thorne.” My heart, which had been fluttering with anticipation, plummeted into a black abyss. I knew that face, that voice. I’d spent the entire night staring at her profile. “Winnie? What are you doing here?” Jack’s voice came from behind me. I turned. His eyes held surprise, but not a trace of joy. 2 Jack stared for a moment before rushing over. There was no joyful embrace, no warmth of a long-awaited reunion. Instead, his eyes flickered instinctively to Chloe, who stood watching us. I offered a cool smile. “Let’s stick to titles at work, Mr. Heston.” He flinched. “So the person HQ was sending… it really was you.” He took my suitcase, muttered something about not wanting to be disturbed, and quickly ushered me into his office. He pressed his lips together, his gaze cautious. “Winnie, what’s wrong? Are you upset because I went out for drinks last night and didn’t tell you?” I didn’t say a word. My eyes swept across his office, a space I’d seen countless times over video calls but was now entering for the first time. On his desk was a picture frame. I glanced at it, expecting to see us. But our photo was gone, replaced by a handsome shot of him on his motorcycle. He followed my gaze and cleared his throat. “Too many people come in and out of the office. I keep our photo at home now.” I looked at him, a quiet weight settling between us. It had been three months since we’d last seen each other. I had imagined this moment a thousand times—would we cry? Laugh? Or just hold each other in a silent, desperate hug? I had never imagined this suffocating awkwardness. Without a word, I took out my phone and played the video. Chloe’s voice, bright and carefree, filled the sterile office. A flash of panic crossed Jack’s face. “Winnie, she’s just a riding buddy. There’s nothing going on.” A wave of exhaustion washed over me. “She’s also your assistant. Why did you never mention her?” “It’s not what you think,” he said, his voice rising with anxiety. “We met in the riding group first. We’d been on a few runs together. Her major was a perfect fit for the role, and she was looking for a job, so I offered it to her. We’re just friends, that’s all. Buddies.” He finally stepped forward, pulling me into a belated, stiff hug. “Winnie, we’ve been together for five years. It hasn’t been easy getting here. I cherish what we have.” A sharp sting pricked my nose. He pulled back and showed me his phone. “Look, I already booked a flight to see you this weekend. I can’t believe you came first. I’m so happy, Winnie. Truly.” He looked so sincere, so earnest, that the accusations died in my throat. He wiped a tear from the corner of my eye and took my hand, leading me out of the office. Chloe was sitting at her desk just outside. She stood up the moment she heard the door. “Jack—” Her eyes fell on our intertwined hands, and she stopped short. Jack’s voice was firm, official. “Let me introduce you. This is Winnie Thorne, our new Director of Operations. She’s also my girlfriend.” Chloe’s smile was strained. “Oh, the missus. I’ve heard so much about you.” Jack’s expression hardened, but there was a laugh in his voice. “Show some respect. We use titles in the office.” He turned to me. “You head down to the operations department. I’ll pick you up after work.” I nodded and walked away. Behind me, I heard Chloe’s indignant voice. “You’re gonna be mean to me just ’cause your girlfriend’s here? What happened to being buddies? Fine. We’re not riding tonight. Or ever again!” Jack laughed and playfully smacked her on the back. “Not a chance. Ride or die, remember? We’re buddies for life.” My steps faltered. I practically fled the nineteenth floor. I sat in my new, empty office for half an hour, then made another call. “I’m not taking the position in Chicago. I’ll come home. I’ll take the arranged marriage.” On the other end of the line, my brother, Bob, was stunned into silence for a moment before chuckling. “You’re kidding, right? You’ve worked so hard to get here on your own. You’re this close to getting Dad to finally approve. Why give up now?” When I didn’t answer, his tone shifted. “Winnie, what is it? Did that bastard Jack do something to you?” The dam broke. A sob caught in my throat. “Bob… I’m just so confused. Whatever happens, you should probably keep an eye out for a better candidate for the Chicago job.” “And, Bob?” I added, my voice trembling. “Can you do a background check on someone for me…?” 3 The Chicago skyline was a blaze of light. It was already nine o’clock. The building was nearly empty, but I hadn’t received a single message from Jack. Finally, I couldn’t wait any longer and called him. When he picked up, I asked tentatively, “Jack, are you still busy?” There was a pause, and then he was a flurry of apologies. “Oh god, Winnie, I’m so sorry! I completely forgot you were in Chicago. I went out to dinner with my buddies.” My heart turned to ice. I looked out at the glittering neon signs. The city was just coming alive. But I had come here alone, full of courage and hope. Was this all it was leading to? Half an hour later, the door to my office flew open and Jack rushed in, out of breath. He collapsed in front of me, crouching down to look me in the eye. “I’m so sorry, Winnie. I honestly forgot. I’m so, so sorry. Hit me, yell at me, whatever you want.” A three-hour flight, a full afternoon of work… I was physically and mentally drained. Before I could even speak, a figure appeared in the doorway behind him. A look of embarrassment crossed Jack’s face. “I’d been drinking. Chloe gave me a ride.” The will to speak completely deserted me. I just picked up my bag. “Let’s go.” I sat in the back seat, watching as Jack, in the passenger seat, nervously monitored Chloe’s driving. “Check your mirror when you change lanes. How many times do I have to tell you?” Chloe waved a dismissive hand. “You’re such an old man, Jack. God, I know, I know.” They were so close, so comfortable, it was as if I wasn’t even there. I finally understood. Two years of living apart had changed him. This was not the Jack I remembered. When the car stopped, Chloe offered to help with my luggage. Then, with the ease of long practice, she unlocked the door to Jack’s apartment with her fingerprint. She dangled the car keys in front of him and gave him a look. Jack handed me a pair of generic gray guest slippers. But I could clearly see a pink pair tucked away in the shoe cabinet. He guided me to the sofa to rest while he bustled around, unpacking my things. Once everything was put away, he approached me, hesitating. “Winnie… I left the dinner so abruptly, I feel bad. You must be exhausted. Why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll just go back and show my face for a little bit, and then I’ll be right back, okay?” I suddenly understood the silent message Chloe had given him with the car keys. I looked at him, a slow smile spreading across my face. “Jack, what do you take me for?” “Winnie, you’re my girlfriend,” he said, his voice laced with desperation. “You’re the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. That has never changed.” “Today was my fault, I know. But these last two years… it’s not like you, back in New York with your family and friends. Chicago is a cold place. These buddies are all I have, the only people I can grab a drink with. I don’t want to lose them.” He took a deep breath. “We’re really, truly, just buddies.” I felt like all the strength had been drained from my body. “Fine. Go. Come back early.” His face lit up with relief. He leaned down, pressed a quick kiss to my forehead, and rushed out the door. I stood at the window and watched as he practically jogged down the street, my tears falling without warning. Late that night, he crept into the room and gently tucked the covers around me, his lips brushing my ear in a kiss that smelled of whiskey. I stared at the ceiling, my voice quiet in the darkness. “You’ve been in Chicago for two years now. If you came back to HQ, you’d definitely get a promotion. Have you thought about applying for a transfer…?” I felt his breath catch, just for a second. But he didn’t move. And he didn’t answer. 4 Life in Chicago settled into a routine. Jack was still gentle with me. He would wait for me after work, drive me home. For a month, he turned down every social event, and he didn’t go riding once. But a seed of doubt, once planted, is impossible to uproot. Chloe’s TikTok account was a Pandora’s box, tempting me again and again to open it, to watch the life he had lived without me. One day, Jack was driving, one hand on the wheel, the other holding his phone, a wide grin on his face. I knew what he was looking at. Their riding crew had a group chat that buzzed with activity all day long. Suddenly, he turned to me, his voice cautious. “The crew says it’s been a while. They want to go for a run in the hills tonight… Winnie, why don’t you come with me?” I looked at him. “Okay.” His smile froze. In five years, we had done everything together, but riding was always his thing, not ours. “Well,” he said, his tone unreadable, “we’ll have to take it slow with you on the back. Just a scenic ride.” The next second, a motorcycle roared past us. It was Chloe. “Try and catch me, old man!” she yelled, her voice carried on the wind. “If you can!” Something inside him ignited. He slammed his foot on the gas, the car lurching forward. The color drained from my face. I gripped his shirt, my voice a terrified whisper. “Jack, I’m scared…” He didn’t hear me. He was laser-focused on the bike ahead, pushing the car faster and faster, weaving through the winding mountain roads. My heart hammered against my ribs, threatening to burst. When he finally pulled over, I stumbled out of the car and was violently sick. Chloe handed me a bottle of water. “Ms. Thorne, with a delicate constitution like yours, maybe you should just stay home next time.” Jack was off talking to the others, barely sparing me a glance. On the way home, he finally spoke, his voice tinged with complaint. “I told you it wasn’t for you. You insisted on coming.” I looked down. “It won’t happen again.” Never again. I threw myself into my work. One afternoon, a shriek echoed through the office. My assistant, Molly, burst in, her face pale. “Ms. Thorne, the contract with Grayson Corp… they never stamped it.” I shot to my feet. The entire department had worked overtime for half a month on that deal. As my team erupted into panicked chatter, I silenced them with a look. “Who gave it to you?” “It was… Mr. Heston’s assistant, Chloe,” Molly whispered. I stormed up to the nineteenth floor, my anger a burning knot in my stomach. I slammed the contract down on Chloe’s desk. “My department worked for two weeks straight, and you’re telling me now that the contract was never even finalized? How could you have missed this?” The entire floor fell silent, heads turning to watch the drama unfold. Jack came out of his office, looking surprised. He picked up the contract. “Winnie, it’s a minor mistake. There’s no need to make a scene.” “A minor mistake?” I stared at him in disbelief. “Half a month of our work is down the drain! Mr. Heston, is this the kind of work your people do?” His face darkened. But then Chloe spoke, her voice ringing with defiance. “I know you’ve had it out for me from the beginning. It’s my fault, I admit it. I’ll resign, is that what you want?” I laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. “It is your fault. Do you have any idea how big this deal was? Can you afford to pay for this loss?” “That’s enough!” Jack’s voice was a whip crack. “Winnie,” he said, his voice dangerously low, “you come storming up here, screaming at my staff without knowing all the facts. Don’t you think that’s a bit out of line?” My eyes widened. Before I could even form a reply, he continued. “You have an entire department of people. Didn’t a single one of them think to double-check the document? Maybe you should focus on managing your own team, Ms. Thorne.” I took a deep breath, my voice shaking with rage. “Jack, you are so biased it’s unbelievable. Do you even know who you are?” He let out a sarcastic laugh. “Of course, I know who I am. I may not be some golden child favored by HQ like you, but I know that here, in Chicago, I’m the General Manager.” “Now, if there’s nothing else, Ms. Thorne, please leave.” The office was dead silent. Everyone was watching. It was as if I was seeing him for the first time. My blood ran cold. Suddenly, the elevator doors dinged open, and a man in a sharp suit stepped out. “Who has the audacity to speak like that?” At the sound of that familiar voice, the strength I’d been clinging to finally gave out. Tears streamed down my face. Bob walked toward us. Jack’s face paled. “Mr. Sterling.” My brother ignored him completely, handing me a tissue. “The entire Sterling Corporation can be hers. Firing one incompetent employee is nothing.” He shot a look of pure contempt at Chloe. “You can get lost. Legal will be in touch about the damages you’ve caused.” Then, his gaze fell on Jack. “I put you in charge of Chicago, and this is how you treat my sister?” Jack’s face went from pale to ghostly white. 5 Bob’s voice wasn’t loud, but it carried an undeniable authority that echoed through the silent nineteenth floor. “S-sister?” The color drained completely from Jack’s face. He whipped his head around to stare at me. “Winnie… you… Mr. Sterling is…?” Bob scoffed. “If it wasn’t for Winnie, do you really think a kid a few years out of college would be running the Chicago branch?” I stood there, frozen. My brother’s arrival had shattered the last of my composure, ripping away every last pretense. Tears rolled silently down my cheeks, not of sorrow, but of a profound, soul-crushing absurdity. I watched his face, the shock and panic warring in his eyes, the desperate plea for this to be some kind of mistake. I suddenly felt so, so tired. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “I use my mother’s surname. Bob is my full-blooded brother.” I met Jack’s gaze as Bob’s voice cut through the air again. “My father never thought much of you. Winnie fought for you, begged him, even knelt in front of him to give you this chance.” “The deal was that if you two could both prove yourselves, he wouldn’t force her into the arranged marriage. He would accept you as his son-in-law.” “You’ve been in Chicago for two years. In all that time, Winnie hasn’t taken a single day off at HQ. She worked relentlessly, just for the chance to be with you sooner.” Bob looked him up and down with disgust. “And what have you been doing? Living it up? Riding? Buddies? Don’t flatter yourself with such pathetic excuses.” He shot Jack one last cold, dismissive look, as if he were a piece of trash on the sidewalk. He put a protective arm around my shoulder, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Winnie, we’re leaving.” He didn’t spare another glance for Jack, or for the ashen-faced Chloe. The elevator doors slid shut, cutting off the sight of Jack stumbling forward as if waking from a dream, cutting off the dead silence and the dozens of prying eyes. The polished steel walls reflected my pale, tear-streaked face. “Bob…” I choked out, my voice barely a whisper. “It’s okay,” he sighed, his voice softening. “The bet is over. I’ll talk to Dad.” So he knew. He’d known all along about my childish bet with our father. That I would make it on my own, using the name Winnie Thorne, without any help from the Sterling family. That if Jack and I could both rise to a high enough position within three years, proving our relationship wasn’t based on dependence, the family would accept him, and I could escape the cold, strategic marriage they had planned. Jack’s transfer to Chicago was a test, an opportunity. I had pushed myself to the breaking point at headquarters, so close to earning my father’s approval, so close to joining him here, side-by-side. I thought we were working toward the same future. How utterly laughable. All my perseverance, all my lonely courage, had just become the punchline to a cruel joke. Back at my temporary apartment, I packed my bags like an automaton. My phone screen lit up relentlessly with calls and texts from Jack. Winnie, please pick up! I’m begging you! I’m sorry, I didn’t know, I swear I didn’t know! Let me explain, there’s nothing going on with me and Chloe! She’s really just a buddy! Five years, Winnie. Are you really throwing it all away over a misunderstanding? Winnie Thorne! You played me for a fool! That last text was dripping with resentment and a bruised ego. My finger hovered over the screen, but I didn’t open a single message. I calmly called my brother. “Bob, change my flight. Get me on the next plane back to New York. And I’m resigning from the Director of Operations position in Chicago.” “Are you sure?” he asked. “Yes,” I said, closing my eyes. My voice was quiet, but firm. “I’m coming home for the arranged marriage.”

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My husband’s empire collapsed overnight. That same night, he rushed our son and me to a remote island, claiming we needed to hide from creditors. But something felt wrong. I turned back halfway, only to find him throwing a lavish party at our home, a beautiful woman in his arms. His friend smirked. “You sent them to that godforsaken rock? What will they eat?” Nate replied casually, “When Stella’s dog food brand failed, I had the surplus shipped there. It’s enough for years.” Stella snuggled closer. “You’re so good to me and our baby,” she whispered, touching her stomach. He chuckled. “You’re too soft-hearted. I had to remove that she-devil before she found out you’re pregnant. Once the baby’s born, I’ll bring them back. It’ll be too late for her to protest.” Lightning seemed to strike me; I broke into a cold sweat. Three years later, he called as planned. “How are you and Alan? I’m coming to get you.” I glanced at the man sleeping beside me and smiled. “We’re wonderful. My new husband is so good to me—and your son.” 1 There was a pause on the other end, followed by a chuckle. He thought I was joking. “Jenny, you haven’t changed a bit. Still got that sharp tongue.” “I know you’re upset I haven’t visited or called these past three years. But honey, circumstances wouldn’t allow it. I just settled the last of my debts, and you’re the first person I called. I’ll be there in two days to get you and Alan.” I was about to cut him off when my phone died. My new husband, Liam, stirred beside me. He rolled over, his arm wrapping around my waist, pulling me back into the warm cocoon of our bed. We’d been up late last night and were both exhausted. When I woke again in the afternoon, Liam was already at his office. A bodyguard had driven our son, Alan, to his international school. Feeling rested, I headed to the grocery store, planning to cook a special dinner for my two boys. I was inspecting a rack of lamb when a woman’s voice cut through the air. “Jenny?” I looked up. It was Stella. She was flanked by two maids, one of whom was holding a two-year-old girl. No paternity test was needed; the child was the spitting image of Nate. Stella’s eyes widened in genuine shock, clearly stunned to see me here. My own gaze, however, was fixed on the heirloom locket hanging around her neck—a locket that had been my mother’s. Three and a half years ago, Nate had told me he’d lost it. We filed a police report, and he’d stayed up for three straight nights, searching frantically. He had apologized with bloodshot eyes, and I had grieved for that precious memento for months. He knew it was the only thing I had left of my mother. And he had lied, giving it to her. Beyond the locket, she was dripping in designer labels and high-end jewelry. Nate had clearly taken very good care of her these past three years. “Sister,” Stella cooed, her voice laced with a cloying sweetness that felt more like a provocation. “Welcome back.” Three years ago, she would have bowed her head and addressed me as “Mrs. Peterson.” Back then, she owned a small dog food processing plant, and my mother-in-law, a dog lover, was a frequent customer. Stella was always so polite, so deferential. There was no hint of the shameless homewrecker she would become. 2 My hand shot out, and I ripped the locket from her neck. A raw, red line appeared on her pale skin. She gasped, clutching her throat. “Ouch!” “This is mine,” I hissed, my voice low and dangerous. “Don’t you dare test me again. Next time, I won’t be so gentle.” I didn’t want a scene. When a man cheats, the fault lies with him. Stella’s expression soured, a mix of hurt and indignation. “I call you ‘sister’ out of respect for Nate,” she said, her voice rising. “He gave me that locket, and you’d better give it back. And another thing—Nate and I are together now. This is our daughter. I’ve always believed women shouldn’t make things hard for other women, which is why I’m always telling Nate to be kinder to you.” I scoffed. The audacity to spin such a web of self-serving lies, to act so righteous after committing such a despicable act. She pulled her daughter into her arms and pushed the child toward me. “Sweetie,” she instructed, “say hello to your auntie.” Her posture screamed magnanimity, as if my refusal to play along was a sign of my own petty nature. The little girl, innocent and cute, chirped, “Hi, auntie.” A surge of anger rose in me, but I would never take it out on a child. I turned to leave, ignoring Stella completely. Suddenly, her hand clamped down on my arm. The moment I flinched to pull away, she crumpled to the floor, clutching her child as if I had shoved her. She let out a pained cry, and the little girl began to wail. A crowd instantly gathered, their judgmental eyes on me. “How could you push a woman holding a baby?” “What a monster. Taking your anger out on a child…” My face was a cold mask. I pointed at Stella on the floor. “She’s a homewrecker who destroyed my family. I didn’t touch her—she threw herself on the ground. It’s just another one of her pathetic tricks.” With that, I walked away. Less than thirty minutes later, my phone was blowing up with calls from Nate. Stella had wasted no time. I didn’t answer. The texts started flooding in. “When did you get back? Why didn’t you wait for me to pick you up?” “Jenny, you went too far. What happened between Stella and me is my fault. If you’re going to be angry, be angry at me.” “Where are you? I’ll come get you. We can sit down as a family and talk this through.” “Honey, I need you to know that no matter how many children I have with Stella, you will always be the most important person in my life. My love for you will never change.” I felt sick. The truth was, the moment I returned, I had already contacted my lawyer. I was ready to fight. Just then, another notification popped up on my phone. A loan alert. Loan disbursement: Five million dollars. Over the past three years, Nate, in collusion with a corrupt bank employee, had taken out a total of one hundred million dollars in loans using my identity without my knowledge. My lawyer had already traced the funds. Every last cent had ended up in Stella’s account. He had spared no expense for her: luxury cars, mansions, and extravagant bids at auctions where he bought her whatever she desired, just to see her smile. I remembered a time, early on, when I had tested him. I’d called him, sobbing. “Nate, Alan has a raging fever. He’s so sick, and there’s no medicine on this island. Can you please send some money so I can get him to a hospital?” He had soothed me with empty words. “Boys are tough, Jenny. Their immune systems are strong. Just give him a cool bath. Honey, to be honest with you… I can’t even afford instant noodles right now. I don’t have a single penny to my name. Let’s just be strong, okay? The hard times will pass.” 3 The next day, I was struck with a sudden, agonizing pain. Appendicitis. I was writhing on the floor, soaked in so much sweat it was as if I’d been dunked in water. I didn’t even have the strength to make a call. My son, Alan, terrified, video-called Nate, begging him to come and take me to a hospital. Nate’s face showed a flicker of concern, but it was fleeting. “Just rub your mom’s tummy, son,” he’d said. “She’ll be fine in a bit. It’s probably just a stomach ache, nothing serious.” He hung up quickly. As the pain intensified, I passed out. Alan, in a panic, called him again. This time, Nate snapped. “Tell your mother to stop faking it!” After that, his phone was turned off. An appendix might not be a major organ, but the pain can be lethal. That was the moment I truly understood: a man whose heart has turned is more terrifying than any ghost. I screenshotted the loan notification and sent it to my lawyer. “Save this. Wait for my signal to file.” I took a deep breath, pushing the rage down, and went home to cook dinner. Liam was home early. He dropped his briefcase and rushed over to kiss me on the cheek. “Darling, you spoil me. That’s it, I’m definitely going to have to reward you tonight.” His idea of a “reward” was always the same, an inexhaustible passion that still made me blush. “Be serious,” I chided, pushing him away playfully. After a few more sweet nothings, he got down to business. “Nate Peterson invited me to his daughter’s birthday party.” Our eyes met, and a knowing smile spread across both our faces. A party that important? How could I possibly miss it? Two days later, Liam and I arrived together at the Peterson estate for the birthday celebration. Just as we entered, Liam had to take an urgent international conference call, so I went inside ahead of him. The sprawling French-style manor was situated in the most exclusive zip code in New York. While Nate was telling me he was bankrupt, shipping a ton of dog food to an island for me and our son, he was spending over one hundred and fifty million dollars to buy this very mansion, outbidding everyone else. All because Stella liked it. A tidal wave of hatred washed over me, and my steps grew firmer, more determined, as I walked into the villa. Inside the grand hall, Stella, dressed in a magnificent gown and holding her daughter, spotted me first. A provocative glint in her eye, she glided over. “Look, sweetie,” she purred, loud enough for others to hear. “Your ‘auntie’ is here to wish you a happy birthday. Why don’t you ask her what present she brought for you?” Her voice drew Nate over. His eyes widened when he saw me, a flicker of surprise mixed with something like pleasure. “I’m glad you’ve come to your senses. Stella is being generous and won’t hold a grudge about the other day. It’s a huge step for you to finally control that temper of yours.” Then his gaze fell to my neck, where my mother’s locket now rested. His tone became firm, commanding. “Give the locket back to Stella. Her health is fragile, and I consulted a spiritualist who said only this piece can protect her energy. An object’s true value is realized when it’s with someone who truly needs it.” He smiled, a placating, patronizing smile. “Be a good girl. I’m back on my feet now. I can buy you as many lockets as you want. Stella is younger than you. You should be the bigger person and indulge her.” Give it back? My own property, and he wanted me to give it back to her? The absurdity of it all made me laugh, a sharp, bitter sound. “Nate, I’ve met shameless people before, but you… you’re in a league of your own. This locket was my mother’s. You stole it to give to your mistress, and now you have the nerve to tell me to return it?” Stella began to sob softly, delicate, theatrical tears streaming down her face as if I had inflicted some terrible wound. “Sister, you insulted me at the store, calling me a homewrecker and hitting me. Today is my daughter’s birthday. I’m begging you, please don’t humiliate me like this. I can take it, but think of the embarrassment you’re causing Nate and his parents.” I watched the two of them, a sickening spectacle. “It’s amazing how people with no shame suddenly decide they care about face.” “You!” Stella clutched her chest, pretending to be on the verge of collapse. That sent Nate into a panic. He lunged for me, his fingers digging into my neck as he tried to rip the locket off. The force was brutal, and tears of pain sprang to my eyes. At that moment, Stella added fuel to the fire. “She said she’d rather throw it in the trash than give it to me. Sister, I can pay you for it. How much do you want?” Her words enraged Nate. With a roar, he tore the locket from my neck and smashed it onto the marble floor. CRACK. The sound echoed through the silent hall. The locket, my mother’s locket, shattered into a dozen pieces. I froze. For a second, I couldn’t breathe. All I could hear was the sound of my own heart breaking. Nate’s voice boomed. “The locket! The locket! You act like a lunatic over a stupid piece of jewelry! Let’s see how crazy you get now that it’s gone!” He was right. I was going to lose my mind. “You animal!” I screamed, flying at him, my fists pounding against his chest. “You give me back the only thing I had left of my mother!” Stella, the picture of false concern, chimed in. “Sister, our husband is angry. You need to calm down and behave yourself so he’ll forgive you. You know, there’s an old custom where we’re from. The first time an elder woman meets a new child, she has to let the child… well, christen her. It’s a sign of unconditional love. Why don’t you kneel down, sister? Let our baby bless you. It’s our husband’s daughter, after all. If you do it, he won’t be angry anymore. Please, sister, just kneel.” A feral scream tore from my throat. I spun on her, my palm connecting with her cheek in a vicious slap. “You bitch! You’re just begging for it, aren’t you? Fine! I’ll give you what you want!” I attacked her, a whirlwind of grief and fury. The commotion drew a crowd of guests. Nate, his face burning with rage, tore me off her and struck me hard across the face. “You dare make a scene here? I’ll show you what happens!” His parents rushed over. “You crazy woman!” his mother shrieked. “Do you have any idea where you are? You are a disgrace to the Peterson name!” His father chimed in, his voice cold with disgust. “Get security in here and drag her out! What a curse. People like her should be locked away on an island for life!” Stella, helped to her feet, put on her most benevolent face. “I think she came here today just to cause trouble. Even if we throw her out, she’ll only find another way back in. She’s so… wild. Like a rabid dog. It’s frightening. Perhaps we should lock her in the dog cage in the basement until the party is over? For everyone’s safety.” Without a moment’s hesitation, Nate gave the order. “Security! Take her to the basement and lock her in the cage. Don’t let her out until I say so!” Two large bodyguards seized me, their grips like iron. As they began to drag me away, I fought with every ounce of strength I had left. And then, through the haze of my despair, I heard a voice that made my heart leap with hope. A voice like thunder. “Who dares lock my wife in a dog cage? I’ll see them dead!”

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My cool, impossibly reserved husband has been acting strange lately. He insists on going out in a full disguise—hoodie, sunglasses, the whole nine yards. The moment the doorbell rings, he dives into the nearest closet. And I catch him, day after day, staring at the ring on my finger with a look of pure, grinding agony. Then one day, I stumbled upon an encrypted memo on his phone: “Woke up and I’ve time-traveled from eighteen to twenty-eight.” “Good news: I actually ended up with the girl I’ve been secretly in love with for years.” “Bad news: There are no wedding photos in the house, I’m not wearing a wedding ring, and the suits in the closet aren’t my size.” “…I’m screwed. I’m the other man.” Me: ? 1 The day after we moved into our new home, my husband, Liam, was in a horrific car accident. He spent a day and a night unconscious in the hospital. The doctors said that apart from losing the last ten years of his memory, all his vitals were perfectly normal. But I had a growing suspicion that it wasn’t just his memory that was gone. The man who came home with me was a stranger in more ways than one. His behavior was… bizarre. Take right now, for instance. It’s been three hours since we got back from the hospital, and Liam hasn’t stopped moving. He’s been pacing the house relentlessly, his eyes darting everywhere. First, he examined the freshly painted walls with the intensity of a crime scene investigator. Then, he pulled an old suit from the back of the wardrobe—the one he wore to his college graduation—and held it against himself over and over again, a frown deepening on his face. Finally, his gaze fell on his left hand. He squeezed his bare ring finger, where a faint, pale band of skin marked the spot a ring had occupied for years. It had been lost in the crash. When he finished his inspection, all the strength seemed to drain out of him. He collapsed onto the sofa, his face a ghostly white. “Nina,” he said, his voice trembling. I looked over, and his eyes flickered to the ring on my own hand before he swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “How long… have we been like this?” I followed his gaze to my ring, and a warm blush crept up my neck. “Two years.” It was a strange and wonderful story, really. In high school, we were bitter rivals, fighting tooth and nail to be top of the class. But a chance reunion in a new city during college transformed our animosity into a surprising, fierce friendship. After graduation, we became an unbeatable team at work, a perfect partnership in every sense. It was like we just clicked. And just like that, a decade had flown by. The two people everyone at school swore would kill each other before they’d ever date were now two years into a marriage so perfect, so in sync—from the boardroom to the bedroom—it felt like we were made for each other. 2 I was still lost in the warm, fuzzy memories of my favorite enemy-turned-lover story when Liam’s voice shattered the quiet. “T-Two years?!” He clutched his chest as if he’d been shot, his voice ragged with hysteria. “Two years… and I’m still not the official one?” His outburst startled me. “Liam, what are you yelling about? The ‘official one’? What are you trying to be the official one of?” He stared at me for a moment, a look of profound sorrow in his eyes. He slowly tightened his grip on the teacup in his hand. “So… you’re the one who won’t let go of him.” I frowned, completely bewildered, my gaze dropping to the cup. And then it clicked. “That’s right,” I said, a wave of relief washing over me. “I won’t let you.” He’s always under so much pressure at work, and insomnia is his constant companion. So, I have a strict no-caffeine-after-noon rule for him. I was glad he remembered that little detail, even if nothing else. He, however, did not look glad at all. His eyes were red-rimmed, and he stared at me like a tragic lover, used and then cruelly cast aside, every strand of his hair radiating betrayal. “Nina,” he choked out, “I never thought… I never thought this is what we’d become.” I couldn’t help but smile shyly. “I never thought so either. It just goes to show you, fate is a funny thing.” “…Fate?” Liam’s lips twisted into a bitter sneer. “Is this fate? This? This is… this is an outrage, it’s—” He broke off, turning away to rub furiously at the corner of his eye. A flicker of disappointment went through me; for a second, I thought he was about to say something sweet. But then again, this was Liam. He was an unshakeable ice king in high school, and his career as a ruthless CEO had only made him more concise. Which is why, for the past two years, my favorite pastime was coaxing dirty talk out of him in bed. I lived for the sight of that blush creeping up his neck as he lost himself to me, his composure shattering. And if I really put in the effort… I could wring a few low, desperate gasps from between those clenched teeth. 3 The memory sent a jolt of heat through me. I patted my flushed cheeks and quickly changed the subject. “Anyway, Liam, are you hungry? I’ll go see what we have for dinner.” Liam let out a long, shaky breath, his eyes following me as I walked to the kitchen. He seemed to have reached some sort of terrible resolution. “Nina,” he began, his voice heavy. “I don’t know what’s happened between then and now, or why I’m… like this. Maybe you have some kind of leverage over me, I don’t know.” “But I will not allow myself to be this person. I can’t do these… shady, underhanded things. I’m not cut out for the drama, the jealousy, the backstabbing.” “I have to cut this toxic tie, now. I have to end this chaotic mess—especially this relationship, which is a violation of the law, of morality, of every principle I hold dear.” “I’m telling you right now, I would rather die than be a—” I pulled open the refrigerator door and waved a container at him. “Dinner is pizza and the chicken soup my mom sent over. Sound good, honey?” The word hung in the air. Liam’s expression of tortured indignation vanished. He blinked, his eyes wide, as if savoring the sound. Three long seconds passed. A dark blush crept up to the tips of his ears. “O-Okay,” he stammered, his voice barely a whisper. For the next half hour, Liam stood as still as a statue, a storm of conflicting emotions warring on his face. He looked utterly defeated. The white bandage on his forehead only added to the tragic, broken-beauty effect. The accident hadn’t marred his handsome features in the slightest. If anything, it had softened the sharp, ruthless edge he’d honed over years in the corporate world, making him seem younger, more vulnerable. “Nina, I have to be clear,” he started again, his brow furrowed with grim determination. “I can’t—I won’t—engage in any more of this clandestine…” His voice was cut short by the sharp ring of the doorbell. Ding-dong. The pizza had arrived, right on time. At my side, Liam went rigid, instantly on high alert. He fumbled for the remote and clicked off the TV, his eyes wide with panic as he looked at me. I bit my lip, remembering the doctor’s warning. Post-accident, Liam might be sensitive to sudden, loud noises. Doorbells, car horns, anything startling. I reached out and gently stroked his jaw, my voice soft. “It’s okay. Don’t worry. You just stay here, you don’t have to go to the door.” His shoulders trembled slightly at my touch. He flinched away, his lips pressed into a thin, white line, but he didn’t say anything. I paid for the pizza and signed for a package that had also arrived, then walked back into the living room. But when I stepped inside, Liam was gone. The only evidence he’d been there was the deep impression his body had left on the sofa cushion and the faint, clean scent of cedarwood that hung in the air. If not for those traces, I would have thought I’d imagined him entirely. I scanned the empty room, a knot of confusion tightening in my stomach. “Liam?” Silence. I thought for a moment, then headed upstairs. The bedroom was dark, with no sign of him. I flipped on the light. My eyes were immediately drawn to the wardrobe. A familiar sliver of fabric was caught in the door, trembling faintly. 4 I rushed over and threw open the closet doors. And there he was, huddled behind a row of my dresses. Liam, all six-foot-two of him, was crammed into the tiny space, the hem of my skirt clenched between his teeth. His face was pale, his jaw trembling. I was stunned. “Liam! What in the world are you doing in there?” His head shot up. The first thing he did was peer cautiously past my shoulder. “Is… is he gone?” he whispered. I glanced back. The delivery guy’s car was already pulling out of the driveway. “Yeah, he’s gone.” Liam’s eyes lit up for a second, then immediately dimmed. “He… he didn’t stay?” “Stay for what? He has other deliveries to make. Come on, get out of there. He’s long gone.” Liam’s tense shoulders finally relaxed, and he let out a huge sigh of relief. He hesitated, then added, his tone sly and conspiratorial, “…You know, a workaholic like that, someone who only thinks about their job… they must be incredibly boring. It must be exhausting, being with a person like that. But, just saying, I’m not that kind of workaholic…” I nodded along. “You’re right. That’s why I like you so much better.” A small, smug smile touched his lips, and he lifted his chin with a hint of pride. But just as quickly, his expression froze. The light in his eyes vanished, replaced by a look of self-loathing. He muttered something under his breath, then scrambled out of the closet and hurried past me, storming downstairs without another word. 5 After dinner, I suggested a walk in the park. Liam’s knuckles went white as he gripped his spoon. “There will be too many people at the park. What if someone sees us…?” I knew he’d been anxious around people since the accident, so I nodded understandingly. “You have a point. Okay, then let’s just go to the supermarket to pick up some essentials. It should be pretty empty this time of night.” Liam’s lashes fluttered down, and he didn’t refuse this time. “…Nina, have we… always been like this? For the past two years?” “We have.” His back went ramrod straight. “Will you… will you divorce him?” he asked, his voice strained. I was taken aback. “Divorce? Why would I get a divorce? I don’t ever want a divorce.” CRACK. The fork in his hand snapped in two. “You really want to keep going on like this?” he demanded, his voice dangerously low. I nodded firmly. “Of course.” Liam shot to his feet, the sound of his teeth grinding together filling the silence. “Nina, how could you… How can you—?” He choked on the words, a look of pure despair on his face, then spun around. “I’m done eating.” I blinked. “Hey, Liam, aren’t you coming to the supermarket with me?” His retreating figure looked fragile, on the verge of collapse. He gave no sign that he’d heard me as he mounted the stairs, not even a backward glance. I huffed in annoyance, deliberately pitching my voice to carry. “Fine, be that way! I’ll just ask someone else. See how you like being replaced!” At the top of the stairs, Liam’s footsteps faltered. 6 Ten minutes later, I came downstairs in a more comfortable outfit, only to find Liam standing rigidly by the door. He was dressed head-to-toe in black, bundled up as if preparing for a blizzard. I walked over and tugged his mask down. “Liam, aren’t you hot in that? Besides, the doctor said you need fresh air.” He glanced nervously out the window at the people walking by, then pulled a pair of enormous sunglasses from his bag—the kind that covers half your face. I put my hand over his, utterly baffled. “Liam, you’ll look ridiculous wearing those in a supermarket.” He paused for a second, then produced a black baseball cap. Me: ? His bizarre behavior was starting to give me the distinct impression that we were about to go rob the place. I rubbed my temples, trying to stave off a headache. “Liam, we are just going to the supermarket to buy toilet paper and milk. We are not planning a heist…” His eyes widened in horror. He clapped a hand over my mouth, his voice a frantic whisper. “Keep your voice down! Is that something to be proud of?” Me: ? Just as I was about to argue, my phone buzzed with a message from my best friend, whose profile picture was, as always, some new pop star. “Babe, I’m so sorry, I’m stuck at the office. I have to go out of town for work tomorrow, so I can’t make it shopping tonight.” 7 I let go of Liam to type out a quick reply. 【No worries!】 The second I hit send, Liam’s voice, dripping with sarcasm, cut through the air above me. “So busy that you can’t even spare twenty minutes for a trip to the supermarket…” “Wow. Must be making, what, a billion dollars a month at that job?” I shot him a sideways glance, about to defend my friend, but he barrelled on, his tone one of mock surprise. “What? It’s not a billion? You mean you’re that busy for a measly three thousand a month?” “Sigh. Well, Nina, don’t overthink it.” “What could it possibly mean? I mean, not having time to go to the store with you can only mean that you’re not a priority. That’s all. Nothing more to it.” “It’s not like there’s someone else, of course. That would be impossible…” “Nina, whatever you do… don’t… overthink… it…” He bit down on the last few words, his voice heavy with insinuation. A vein throbbed in my temple. I jabbed him with my elbow. “What is all this nonsense? I know her, I understand her, and she would never do that. Stop talking trash about my friend. We were supposed to meet tonight, and I was going to go with her on her business trip for a week…” The smug look on Liam’s face instantly dissolved. It was as if all his strength, all his clever manipulations, had evaporated in an instant. He staggered back a few steps, looking like a lost dog that had just been kicked by its owner, and curled in on himself, a tremor running through his body. 8 I knew immediately that something was wrong. I dropped my phone and rushed to his side. “Liam? What is it? Are you not feeling well?” He didn’t speak, just clutched his chest and sank onto the sofa. Panicked, I started to get up to call his doctor. But he shot out a hand and grabbed my wrist, his grip surprisingly strong. “Yes,” he gasped. I was completely lost. “Yes, what?” Liam tilted his head back to look at me, a fragile, crimson blush blooming at the corners of his eyes. His lips parted, stopping a mere inch from mine. “I… I don’t feel well, Nina. I feel really, really awful…” I studied the bandage on his forehead, my heart pounding with worry. “Is it your head? Or somewhere else?” He squeezed my hand tighter, his voice trembling. “Just… listen. Can you feel how fast my heart is beating…?” “…?” For a second, I was sure I’d misheard him. 9 Liam said his heart was racing. And as he said it, he leaned into me, a picture of delicate fragility, resting his head in the crook of my neck. “Just hold me,” he murmured. “If you hold me, it’ll stop…” I froze, my body rigid. I’d seen him ruthlessly tear apart opponents in the boardroom without breaking a sweat. I’d seen him lose control, his eyes blazing as he pinned me against a wall. But I had never, ever seen this Liam. For a moment, I had no idea what to do. My hands hovered awkwardly in the air. But I couldn’t bring myself to push him away. “Nina, if you leave me alone tonight… I think I’ll just die of a broken heart. I really will…” Liam looked up, and a single, perfect teardrop clung to his lashes, shimmering like a shattered diamond in the soft light. “So, Nina, are you really going to leave me for her…? Are you going to watch me die? Do you have the heart? Can you really stand by and watch me die?” Looking at his tear-streaked, pitiful face, I felt my heart clench into a tight knot. I wanted to swear an oath to the heavens. “No, no, I won’t! I won’t leave you! I promise, I’ll stay with you all night. Even if she gets mad at me, I’m staying here with you tonight.” …Sorry, bestie. My priorities were embarrassingly clear.

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Three months before my wedding, the world came crashing down. My fiancé, Mike, posted a picture on his Instagram. It wasn’t of us. It was his marriage certificate, side-by-side with a photo of my stepsister, Della, cradling her pregnant belly. His caption read: Legally welcoming our little one into the world. Della commented with a single shy-face emoji. My own mother liked the post. Then she commented, I’ll watch the baby for you. You two just enjoy your time together. I couldn’t help myself. I typed a single question mark. A second later, my phone buzzed with an incoming call from Mike. His voice, once a comfort, was a torrent of accusations. “She’s just ‘borrowing’ me for a year, Clara! The baby will be born, and then I’m all yours again.” “Don’t be so petty,” he continued, his tone sharp. “My mom agrees. She always said you should have a son before we make it official anyway. This works out perfectly. We have the wedding first, and you get your certificate later. It’s fine.” A cold numbness spread through me. “Okay,” I whispered, then hung up. I methodically went through my social media, deleting every trace of him, every happy memory now tainted. Then, I posted something new. Need a groom. Any takers? 1 Mike was the first to reply. Mike: Are you out of your goddamn mind, Clara? I marry her for a technicality, and you pull this stunt? Did you really think a pathetic post like this would make me jealous? That’s hilarious. I’m warning you, stop making trouble, and leave Della out of it. Della’s comment appeared right below his. Della: Sis, Mike just wants our baby to have a proper name. I’m not trying to steal him. When you and he get married, my child can even call you Mom. Then came my mother. Mom: You’re being so ungrateful. You get a child without the pain of childbirth, and Della is making it happen for you. The least you could do is thank her. A flood of comments from Mike’s buddies followed, each one a jab to the ribs. You and Della are sisters, right? Doesn’t matter who Mike marries, it’s all in the family! How about Della gets him Mon-Weds-Fri, and you get Tues-Thurs-Sat? They all thought it was a riot, their laughing emojis mocking my pain. I stared at the screen for a long time, a bitter, acidic feeling rising in my throat until it stung my eyes. Tears I couldn’t hold back began to fall, splattering onto my phone. They were the ones in the wrong. And yet, here they were, shamelessly blaming me. How pathetic. These people weren’t worth a single one of my tears. I wiped my eyes fiercely. Amidst the chaos of the comment section, one stood out, a calm island in a sea of insanity. It was from Liam. Can I be your groom? Liam and I grew up together. After college, I’d stayed in the city while he went abroad for his master’s. The day I started dating Mike, Liam had respectfully distanced himself. It had been years since we’d really talked. As I was still processing his comment, my phone rang. It was him. “Clara,” his voice was steady, warm. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time.” He didn’t wait for me to respond. “You know I’ve never liked your stepsister, so there will be no drama there. I don’t have a messy circle of friends, and I’ve spent the last few years building my career. There are no ex-girlfriends in the picture.” A notification popped up on my screen. A legal document. I opened it. It was a contract, transferring all his assets and company shares into my name. My breath hitched. “Clara,” he said, and for the first time, I heard a tremor of vulnerability in his voice. “This is my entire commitment. It’s all I have to offer. Will you give me a chance?” A familiar ache settled in my chest. I remembered us as kids. Our teacher had given him two pieces of his favorite candy as a reward. He had looked at them, his mouth watering, but he hadn’t eaten a single one. He’d saved both for me. He had always given me everything. My voice was thick with emotion. “Yes.” Love had proven to be a ghost, a phantom I’d chased only to be left wounded and bleeding. I had been ready to give up, to accept that I would be alone. But my grandmother’s dying wish was to see me married, to know there was someone in the world who would have my back. Mike was not that man. But Liam… if my groom was Liam, I knew my grandmother would rest easy. His voice bloomed with pure joy. “I’ll wrap things up here. I’ll be back to marry you in two weeks.” He paused, his tone turning almost pleading. “Clara, you’ll wait for me, won’t you? You won’t change your mind?” That hint of childlike vulnerability reminded me of the time I’d promised to be his bride when we grew up. “I will,” I promised, a sudden urge to cry washing over me—not from sadness, but from a profound sense of relief. “Liam,” I whispered, “pinky swear.” 2 After the call, my bedroom door swung open. It was my mother. “Where is that sapphire necklace your father left you?” I remained silent. Her brow furrowed in annoyance. “What’s with the attitude? Your sister thinks it’s pretty and wants to wear it for a few days. Just get it. Don’t be so childish!” Della clung to our mother’s arm, her face a mask of disappointment. “It’s okay, Mom. I know she’s never really seen me as a sister. If she doesn’t want to, I won’t force her.” “She wouldn’t dare!” my mother snapped, turning her glare on me. “That necklace belonged to my husband—your father. As of today, it’s yours, Della.” She looked back at me, her voice hard as steel. “If you don’t hand it over, don’t blame me for having your room searched.” I stared at her, a bitter smile twisting my lips. It felt more like a grimace. The gentle, loving mother from my memories had vanished, replaced by this harsh, scolding stranger. But it didn’t matter anymore. I was leaving this place for good. There was no point in another meaningless fight. Wordlessly, I retrieved the velvet box, opened it, and handed her the necklace. A satisfied smile spread across her face. “That’s my girl. Della is your little sister. You should always give her the best of everything.” After Mom left, Della fastened the sapphire clasp around her neck, admiring her reflection in my vanity mirror. “Don’t blame Mom for favoring me, sis. Honestly, this necklace looks much better on me anyway.” She smirked. “Just like Mike looks better as my boyfriend.” Her eyes met mine in the reflection. “Some things are just meant to be mine. No one else can ever have them.” I said nothing, watching her pathetic victory dance. With people like her, any reaction was fuel for the fire. Indifference was the only weapon. I grabbed my purse, walked past her as if she were thin air, and headed for the stairs. “Ah! Sis, why did you push me—” Della suddenly lurched in front of me, feigning a push and stumbling backward toward the top of the staircase. As much as I loathed her, my instincts kicked in. I reached out to grab her arm. It was a twenty-step drop; this was no joke. “Clara, you venomous bitch!” A hand slapped mine away from Della’s arm with brutal force. My hand slammed against the wooden banister with a sickening crack. A wave of white-hot pain shot up my arm, and I broke out in a cold sweat. “Mike, you came just in time! I was so scared, I…” Della sobbed, burying herself in Mike’s arms, her face a mess of tears and fabricated terror. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here now,” Mike murmured, stroking her hair. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.” I looked down at my hand, already swelling and turning a bruised, angry purple. Then I looked at Della, who hadn’t suffered so much as a scratch, being held and comforted as if she were made of glass. The irony was a bitter pill to swallow. The boy who had once promised to cherish me forever, the man I was supposed to marry in three short months… how had his heart turned so cold, so fast? 3 Once Della was calm, Mike’s gaze, dark and menacing, fell on me. “I know you’re upset that I married her and we’re having a baby behind your back. You can take it out on me, I get it. I should have told you.” He took a step closer. “But you do not get to hurt Della. Her health is fragile. She’s been through enough.” His voice rose with indignation. “All she did was ask me for a chance to be a mother. Is that so wrong? Why should she have to suffer your anger?” He pointed a shaking finger at me. “You are going to apologize to her. Right now.” My whole body trembled with a rage I could barely contain. “And what did I do wrong?” I hissed. “Tell me, Mike, what exactly did I do wrong?” He stared into my blazing eyes and faltered for a second. “It’s okay, Mike, really,” Della sniffled from the safety of his arms. “Even though I almost fell to my death… I don’t blame my sister. I don’t need an apology.” She looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “You and Clara still have to get married. I don’t want you fighting because of me.” Mike sighed, his expression softening as he looked at her. “Della, you’re too good. It’s heartbreaking sometimes.” He turned back to me, his eyes cold again. “You’re just jealous of her. You can’t stand to see her happy.” He paused. “Fine. Della is speaking up for you, so if you don’t want to apologize, you don’t have to. But if you ever try to hurt her again, I swear, I won’t be so lenient.” He scooped Della into his arms and, just before leaving, shot me one last look of utter disappointment. “You can’t even compare to your sister.” The silence of the living room pressed in on me. I watched the dead leaves drift past the window, then sank to the floor, buried my face in my hands, and finally let myself sob. One last time. This was the last time I would ever cry for Mike. That afternoon, he posted again. A nine-photo grid of our future home, the one we had picked out together. Each picture showed a different corner, a different room. The caption read: Every room, every piece of furniture, every little detail, all chosen with love to give my baby a warm and happy home. The comments poured in. Congrats, Mike! A baby on the way! So you and Clara are having a baby! Wonderful news! Clara is so lucky to have a husband like you! I’m so jealous! I wouldn’t miss your wedding in three months for a billion-dollar deal! As the congratulations flowed, Della dropped a bomb in the comments. Oh, everyone, don’t get the wrong idea. This isn’t Mike’s marital home. It’s my house. An awkward silence fell over the comment section. I was the one to break it. Three’s a crowd. I’m out. Wishing you two happiness. Then, without a second thought, I blocked both of them. My phone rang almost immediately. It was Mike. “Clara, have you lost your mind?” “I’m perfectly sane,” I said, my voice flat. “That comment you left—you’re deliberately trying to make Della look bad,” he seethed. “You just had to paint her as a homewrecker, didn’t you? Is that what makes you happy? Keep slandering her, and this wedding is off!” His cruel words washed over me, but I felt nothing. The part of me that cared was already dead. “Mike,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “What on earth makes you think I’d still want your sloppy seconds?” 4 I hung up. The phrase “sloppy seconds” must have struck a nerve. He called again, and again, and again. When I didn’t answer, he bombarded me with texts. I ignored them all. In ten days, I was going to marry Liam. These people were about to become ghosts from a past life. I had intended to spend my remaining time here in peace, but Della shattered that illusion when she smashed my father’s urn. His ashes spilled across the floor. She felt no remorse. Instead, she let her cat urinate on them. Then she looked at me, a triumphant smirk on her face. “Look, sis. Your dad makes great kitty litter!” In that instant, every ounce of grief and suppressed rage inside me exploded. I grabbed the baseball bat from behind the door and swung it at her with all my might. It connected with a solid thud. She shrieked, her face turning sheet-white as she scrambled away. “Clara! Have you completely lost it? How dare you hit your sister!” My mother’s voice was Della’s salvation. She scurried behind her, hiding like a frightened child. “Mom, I’m scared,” she sobbed. “She’s trying to kill me!” My mother shielded Della like a hen protecting her chick, her fury directed entirely at me. “I’ve let your bullying slide, thinking it was just petty squabbles, but this is too much!” She was my mother, yet she always stood against me, defending a girl with no blood relation to her. There was no greater sorrow. Tears blurred my vision. “She broke Dad’s urn!” I screamed, my voice raw. “That was Dad! My dad! Why? Why?” Why, after I had already yielded so much, did they have to destroy the one tangible memory I had left of him? Why did my own mother not love me? Della dropped to her knees dramatically. “Mom, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to, I swear! If Clara can’t forgive me, then… then I might as well just die!” she wailed. “Della, you stop this—” SMACK! My mother’s hand cracked across my face before I could finish my sentence. “Enough!” she shrieked. “It’s just ashes! He’s already dead. Is a pile of ash more important than a living person?” Her final words hung in the air, cold and sharp. “If you bother Della again, you can get out.”

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My son had been kidnapped. The ransom was one hundred million dollars. When I went to wire the money, I discovered my husband’s executive assistant had frozen our accounts. I stormed into his office to confront her. She tossed a check on the desk—it was for two hundred and fifty dollars. Chloe smirked. “Maybe you could negotiate with them? Ask for a payment plan? I’m sure they’d be willing to return the kid in installments, too.” Rage, white-hot and blinding, washed over me. I slapped her, hard, across the face. Then again. That’s when Carter arrived. He didn’t hesitate. A swift, brutal kick landed squarely in my chest, knocking the air from my lungs. He pulled Chloe into his arms, shielding her as if I were the threat. His eyes, when they met mine, were chips of ice. “Chloe was just making a joke, Evelyn. You had no right to lay a hand on her.” His voice was dangerously calm. “And since we’re being honest… our son isn’t coming back. So I might as well tell you. Chloe and I have a child together. A boy. If you play your cards right, he might even be generous enough to call you ‘Mom’ one day.” My world fractured. At that exact moment, my phone buzzed. A video from the kidnappers. It was a close-up of a small hand, followed by the sickening crack of bone as they broke every single one of his fingers. But as the child’s face, contorted in agony, filled the screen, a strange, chilling calm descended over me. I recognized that face. I smiled, a thin, brittle thing, and transferred the $250. I attached a note: His mother said you can have the money in installments. I guess you can return him the same way. 1 The first thing I did after the transfer was place a video call to my son, Leo. He answered almost immediately, his sweet, familiar face filling my screen. “Mom! I’m still in Berlin with Uncle Mark for the robotics championship! We’ll be on a flight home this afternoon. Don’t miss me too much, okay?” A wave of relief so powerful it felt like grief washed over me. My heart, which had been a stone in my chest, finally started to beat again. I hung up and turned, just in time to see Chloe directing facilities management to hang black-and-white portraits of Leo around the office. Memorial photos. The rage returned, a tidal wave in my blood. I snatched one of the portraits from the wall and tore it to shreds. Chloe blinked, a perfect picture of innocence. “Evelyn, I know this is hard to accept, but I was just trying to help you find some closure. There’s no need to lash out.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “The only person who needs to be grieving here is you. It’s your son they took.” For a split second, her face went slack, her skin ashen. Then she crumpled into Carter’s arms, her shoulders shaking with manufactured sobs. “Even if I didn’t pay… how could she say something so horrible? How could she curse my Sterling?” Carter’s eyes burned with a righteous fury. He struck me, a sharp, stinging slap that rocked my head to the side. “So what if I don’t want to pay?” he snarled, his voice low and menacing. “For years, you and that boy have been leeches, bleeding me dry.” He gestured to my clothes with a contemptuous flick of his wrist. “You want money? Start taking things off. Ten thousand dollars an item.” The scornful gazes of his employees were like a thousand tiny needles piercing my skin. My entire body trembled with fury. Fine. I walked to the head of the boardroom, connected my phone to the projector, and played the kidnapper’s video on the massive screen. The brutal, bloody images filled the room. No one could watch it without flinching in horror. Chloe let out a theatrical shriek and buried her face in her hands. Carter’s attention snapped to her immediately, which is why he missed it—the unmistakable resemblance between the tortured child on the screen and the woman sobbing in his arms. “Carter, it’s horrible,” she whimpered, clutching his suit jacket. “I’m going to have nightmares for weeks. I’m so scared.” He instantly ordered someone to smash the projection system, then shot me a look of pure loathing. “You think showing me this will make me feel sorry for you? Make me pay? You want to put on a show, Evelyn, you have to go all the way. Tell the kidnappers to send me his body.” I stared at the man before me, a stranger carved from ice and cruelty. We were college sweethearts, had built an empire together, weathered more than a decade of storms side-by-side. I couldn’t believe this was our final chapter. My voice was flat, devoid of all emotion. “Just make sure you don’t regret this, Carter.” He had the IT department forcibly wipe the video from my phone, ensuring Chloe wouldn’t be “traumatized” again. Tucked safely in his embrace, she shot me a triumphant, mocking smile. Just then, Carter’s phone rang. It was the kidnappers. “Mr. Harrison,” a gravelly voice threatened. “You’re a colder bastard than I thought. Don’t you even want your favorite son back?” “Maybe hearing him will change your mind.” A child’s agonized screams filled the line. “Daddy! Mommy! It hurts so much! Please, help me!” The color drained from Carter’s face. He looked down at Chloe, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “Chloe… that sounds a little like Sterling.” She rolled her eyes, a perfect imitation of loving exasperation. “Don’t be silly. Sterling is safe at the Greenwich estate. It’s obviously Leo, trying to imitate his voice to trick you into saving him.” Comprehension dawned on Carter’s face, followed by a renewed wave of disgust directed at me. He spoke into the phone, each word a block of ice. “Kill him. I have other children.” He paused. “But do me a favor. Keep his kidneys. Freeze them and send them to me. Sterling needs a transplant. You do that, and I might even throw in ten million for your trouble.” The kidnapper laughed, a harsh, incredulous sound, and hung up. Watching Carter’s smug, cruel expression, a wave of nausea rose in my throat. I couldn’t take another second. I pulled the divorce papers from my purse and slammed them on the table. “I’m done, Carter. We’re getting a divorce.” He stared at me for a moment, then his face hardened into a mask of contempt. “Can’t get the ransom, so you threaten me with divorce? You’re getting more creative, I’ll give you that, Evelyn.” He snatched a pen and scrawled his name across the signature line, then threw the papers in my face. “Your doctor told me years ago, remember?” he sneered. “Your fertility was declining. By now, you’re nothing but a barren old hen. I was going to be generous. I was thinking I’d let you stay on as Sterling’s nanny, give you a few hundred bucks a month so you wouldn’t die alone. But you threw that away. Don’t come crawling back to me when you realize what you’ve lost.” My knuckles were white as I clutched the papers. It took every ounce of my self-control not to scream the truth at him—the truth I had hidden for years to protect his fragile ego. The doctor’s diagnosis hadn’t been for me. It had been for him. He swept Chloe into his arms, a picture of adoration. “Come on, darling. Let’s go to the hospital and arrange that transplant. Sterling is going to be whole again very soon.” True to their word, the kidnappers sent the kidney. Carter had me dragged to the hospital, insisting that since it was Leo’s kidney, I was the one who had to sign the organ donation consent forms. When I arrived, he was in the middle of wiring ten million dollars to the kidnappers, not blinking an eye. The voice on the phone was dark, laced with a strange significance. “You’re a generous man, Mr. Harrison. But like I said before, if I don’t see the full hundred million, you’re going to get your son back… piece by piece.” Carter hung up impatiently and shoved the forms at me. “Sign.” I looked at him, my face a blank mask. “This isn’t Leo’s kidney. It’s Sterling’s. Shouldn’t Chloe be the one signing this?” His fingers clamped around my jaw, his grip so tight I thought the bone would snap. “If I hear you curse my son’s name one more time,” he ground out, his voice like grinding steel, “I will kill you.” Just then, one of his executives rushed in, breathless with excitement. “Mr. Harrison! The tech team tracked the calls! We have the kidnappers’ location. We can give it to the police and get your son back!” I wrenched myself from Carter’s grasp. “Then what are you waiting for? Call them!” I despised Carter and Chloe, despised the secret life they’d built on a foundation of lies. But the child didn’t deserve to die. “No!” Carter’s voice was a whip crack. “Do not call the police! And tell the tech team to wipe all the location data immediately.” I stared at him in disbelief. “Carter, are you insane? That’s your son!” He whirled on me, his face a mask of rage. “Sterling needs that kidney! If the police get involved, they’ll put it back in Leo’s body. Are you really willing to let a child die just to save Leo? Is that how selfish you are?!” To make sure I couldn’t act, he had his bodyguards smash my phone and tablet. I watched it all, numb, a storm of hatred and vindication brewing inside me. You chose this, Carter. This is all on you. At that moment, Chloe ran in, her face streaked with tears. “Carter! I called the estate to have them bring Sterling for the surgery, but they said he’s gone! He’s missing!” Panic flared across Carter’s handsome features. Chloe’s eyes, full of venom, locked onto mine. Then, she threw herself to the floor, kneeling at my feet. “Evelyn, I know you’re in pain,” she sobbed. “I know you resent that my Sterling is alive while you’re losing your own son. But take your anger out on me! Please… just give me my son back! I’m begging you!” I frowned, bewildered by her insane performance. Before I could speak, Carter’s foot slammed into my stomach. Pain exploded through me. I collapsed, gasping for air as agony ripped through my abdomen. Carter stood over me, his shadow falling across my face as he delivered his judgment. “Tell me where Sterling is. Now,” he said, his voice deadly soft. “Or I swear to God, I will end you.” It was a struggle to speak through the pain. “I told you… the kidnappers have Sterling. You need to talk to them, not me.” He let out a series of short, cold laughs. “Right.” He turned to his assistant. “Evelyn’s brother has been out of the country. Find out where he is. Now!” Minutes later, a stack of photos was in his hands. It was my brother, Mark, with Leo at an airport. Mark’s security detail is legendary; they’re the best in the world. The photographer had only been able to get shots from a distance, mostly of their backs. Even just seeing the familiar shape of Leo’s back made my heart ache. But in that moment, I had never been more grateful that he was safe. I pointed a trembling finger at the photo. “Open your damn eyes, Carter. That jacket Leo is wearing? You had it custom-made for his birthday last year. It’s one of a kind. That is Leo with my brother. Not Sterling.” Carter’s hand tightened on the photos, a flicker of panic in his eyes. But Chloe snatched them from him. “Don’t listen to her, Carter,” she insisted. “Look at his height, his build. It’s exactly like Sterling’s. That is our son. Believe me, the kidnappers would never touch Sterling.” Her absolute confidence was jarring. A wild, impossible thought began to form in the back of my mind. Carter’s brow smoothed. He stepped forward and ground his heel into the back of my hand. A sickening crunch echoed in the sterile room, followed by my own scream. The pain was blinding. In a frenzy, I lunged forward and bit his leg, my teeth sinking into the flesh. He yelped and pulled back, a sadistic smile twisting his lips. “Stop pretending. I know your brother has the resources to snatch Sterling without anyone knowing. But your protector isn’t in the country now, is he? If you don’t have him return my son, you’ll be joining yours in the grave.” I fought back tears of pain, about to speak, when a security guard entered with a box, a coppery smell wafting from it. “Mr. Harrison. This just arrived from the kidnappers.” He opened it. Inside lay a child’s severed arm. A note was tucked beside it. The first installment. If the money doesn’t come, the next one will be fatal. I stared at Carter, my voice ringing with desperate clarity. “If you have a shred of sense left, you’ll have a doctor do a DNA test on that arm and prove I’m telling the truth!” The challenge hit its mark. He started to call for a doctor. “Carter, no!” Chloe wrapped her arms around his, pouting. “Don’t fall for her tricks. A DNA test will take time. She’s just stalling until her brother gets back to save her.” He froze, understanding dawning in his eyes. The look he gave me was pure venom. “It seems you won’t learn until you’ve lost everything,” he whispered. “In that case, don’t blame me for what comes next.” He had me dragged to the estate’s dog kennels, where he kept a pack of half-starved wolves. Sterling’s arm was hung from the cage. The frenzied snarling of the animals made my blood run cold. Chloe leaned against Carter, a picture of smug pity. “You should just tell your brother to bring Sterling back, Evelyn. In a few minutes, that arm is going to be wolf food. I’ll tell you what… if you get on your knees and apologize for everything, I’ll be merciful and give you ten more minutes to think about it.” Carter stroked her hair. “You’re always too kind, my love.” I looked from them to the arm, my voice eerily calm. “You two really are a perfect match. Blind in exactly the same way. Can’t you see it? There’s an oval birthmark on the forearm. Leo doesn’t have a birthmark.” Chloe’s composure faltered for an instant. She stepped closer, squinting at the arm. Then she burst out laughing. “A birthmark? Evelyn, that’s a smudge of dried blood. I think you’re finally losing your mind.” Carter gently fed her a grape and gave a cold command. “Throw it in.” The wolves descended on the arm in a flurry of teeth and snarls. Carter watched me, his eyes searching my face for a flicker of grief, of pain. He found nothing. “Has she really gone insane?” he muttered, lighting a cigarette with a frustrated flick of his wrist. With a wave of his hand, a swarm of reporters and news crews flooded the area. Chloe winked at me. “See? I even called the media for you. With all this attention, I’m sure your precious Leo will be rescued soon.” She leaned in closer. “I’m even willing to forgive you for having your brother kidnap Sterling.” I couldn’t help but laugh, a raw, humorless sound. Everyone knows that involving the media in a kidnapping is a death sentence for the hostage. It only angers the captors. My heart ached for that poor, innocent child. I couldn’t stop the tears that welled in my eyes. “Do you really have to take it this far?” I whispered. Chloe moved beside me, her voice a venomous hiss for my ears only. “You should know, even if you returned Sterling, your son would still be dead. He’s in my son’s way. If he survives this, I’ll just arrange another accident. And another. Let’s see how long Leo’s luck holds out, shall we?” I snapped. My hand flew out, the crack of my palm against her cheek echoing in the sudden silence. She expertly used the momentum, stumbling backward and collapsing to the ground, her beautiful eyes filling with tears as she let out a wounded sob. Carter’s chest heaved with fury. He rushed to Chloe’s side, lifting her into his arms before turning to face the cameras, his voice booming with authority. “We have investigated this matter thoroughly. The kidnapping of my son, Leo, was orchestrated by his own mother, Evelyn Vance.” “Therefore, I will not be paying the ransom. Furthermore, as of this moment, I am officially and legally severing all ties with him. He is no longer my son.” He gestured to a lawyer, who stepped forward with a document. “The contract is prepared. It will be signed and effective immediately.” The media erupted. Cameras flashed, microphones were shoved in my face, capturing my humiliation from every angle. The crowd of onlookers jeered, shouting insults, calling me a monster. Someone lunged forward, grabbing my hand, trying to force my thumb onto an ink pad. I wrenched free and locked eyes with Carter, a long, silent moment passing between us. Then, with a resolve that felt ancient and absolute, I bit down on my own thumb, drawing blood, and pressed a crimson print onto the paper. My voice was steady, each word a vow. “This is your choice, Carter. From this day forward, Leo has nothing to do with you.” A triumphant smile spread across Carter’s face. He leaned down and kissed Chloe. “It’s done, my love. From now on, everything I have belongs to Sterling. I promised you, and I delivered.” As they celebrated, a phalanx of large, professional-looking men in dark suits cut through the crowd, clearing a path. And then I heard a small, worried voice behind me. “Mom, don’t be scared! I brought Uncle Mark to come save you!”

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1 My son was trapped in a burning building while my billionaire husband photographed his new obsession. “Hold that pose, baby,” Scott Taylor said, his face lit by flames. “I’m getting you ‘Hero of the Year’.” His phone wasn’t aimed at real firefighters—but at Bella, drowning in an oversized uniform, posing with a discarded hose in the safe zone. She tried to turn it on, recoiled, and shrieked, “Jules, it’s too heavy!” Her foot slipped. The nozzle flew, and the water jet—powerful as a ram—shattered the last load-bearing wall. The building collapsed. Coddling her cost my son his last chance. He died buried alive. Scott emerged from rubble clutching his trembling pet, handing me a document coldly: “Sign this accident waiver. Your son was lost anyway. Bella’s traumatized—can’t be blamed.” My fingertips turned icy. He thought our son Leo was buried there. A cruel smile stretched my lips. “I can’t sign this. You’ll need his real mother to.” … Scott’s brow furrowed in annoyance. “Sarah, what the hell are you talking about?” “Just sign the damn paper. Don’t push your luck.” Bella, nestled in his arms, began to sob, her body trembling like a leaf in an autumn wind. “Jules, don’t be mad at Sarah.” “Her son just… she must be heartbroken…” Giant, theatrical tears rolled down her cheeks. “It’s all my fault. I was so stupid. If I had just been a little braver, maybe this wouldn’t have happened…” Scott looked as if his heart was breaking for her, his eyes filled with a tenderness I had never, ever seen directed at me. “Bella, you’re just too good for this world,” he murmured. “That little brat was never going to amount to anything. His death is a public service. It has nothing to do with you.” He turned, his gaze stabbing into me like shards of ice. “Sarah, are you trying to drive a twenty-year-old girl to her grave? Is that what you want?” “Sign the paper. Then go online and tip Bella a million dollars on her livestream. Make a public statement thanking her for her bravery. Do you hear me?” I almost laughed out loud. When Scott got the call about the fire at our old family estate, he had rushed over with Bella, playing the hero. I’d foolishly thought it was a flicker of sentimentality. I see now he was just eager to create a PR opportunity for his new plaything. Now a child was dead, and the family was expected to pay the killer and sing her praises? But since Scott believed the dead boy was worthless, why should I argue? “I can sign,” I said. “But your word isn’t enough.” “Let’s do this: I’ll start a recording. You just repeat everything you just said. We’ll call it a supplementary statement for the authorities and the public.” Scott stared at me like I was insane. “Are you brain-dead? It’s your son who died, not mine.” “What the hell do I care that he’s dead?” That look on his face. So familiar. A few days ago, I’d overheard my mother-in-law on the phone. Scott’s son from his first marriage to Victoria, a boy named Marcus, was coming home from overseas to surprise him. Marcus was the pride of the family, a world-renowned architect at a young age. In contrast, my son with Scott, Leo, had always been frail and introverted. Later, Scott asked if Leo was playing at the old estate again. My mother-in-law shot me a look, begging me to keep Marcus’s surprise a secret, so I went along with it. Only now did I understand the thoughtful, calculating expression on Scott’s face when I’d confirmed it. It was disgust. And relief. Seeing me just standing there, holding my phone, he waved his hand in dismissal. “Fine, fine! I, Scott Taylor, confirm that Bella Vance bears no responsibility for this incident. Happy now?” “Now get out of my sight. Can’t you see how shaken she is?” Bella shrank into his embrace, but over his shoulder, her seemingly innocent eyes flashed with a triumphant, malicious glee. Scott shoved me aside. As he passed, he paused. “Stop playing the victim, Sarah. A kid like yours? The world is better off without him.” I truly hope he can maintain that same detached calm when he finds out it was his genius son who died. During a break in the recovery team’s work, a few firefighters and a police officer approached me to take my statement. They looked uncomfortable. Scott was the property owner, a family member of the deceased, and a powerful public figure. Before they could speak, I handed them the blank liability waiver and my phone with the recording. Every single one of them froze. Leaving the temporary command post, I walked toward the ruins. Halfway there, I saw Scott and Bella, wrapped around each other. He stopped me, shoving a piece of paper in my face. 2 I picked it up. It was an On-site Cremation Consent Form. Even knowing it wasn’t my son buried under that rubble, my face hardened. “I refuse. We find a body, dead or alive.” Bella let out a derisive laugh. “Oh, Sarah. Now is not the time to be so stubborn!” “If you ask me, the kid was just bad luck. A curse on his parents. God himself must have wanted him gone, burying him alive like that.” “Otherwise, why is everyone else fine, and he’s the only one in there?” Scott nodded with a smug, condescending smile. “Sarah, your son never did a single thing to make you proud in his life. Now that he’s dead, let’s not have him waste any more public resources.” “Disposing of the remains here saves the state some trouble. It’ll be the only contribution he’s ever made.” Have some respect for the dead. Even if it wasn’t his son. How could any human being say something so monstrous? I fought to control my rage. “That was a human life,” I said through clenched teeth. “Scott, do you even have a heart?” “I will never agree to this!” I turned to leave, but he grabbed my wrist, his grip so tight I thought the bones would snap. He raised his other hand, his eyes burning with menace. “You really want to do this the hard way, don’t you? You just don’t understand plain English!” I looked up, my gaze as cold as steel. “You lay one finger on me, Scott, and my parents will destroy you.” CRACK. The slap was so hard my head whipped to the side, my ears ringing. “You think your daddy the politician makes you untouchable?” he snarled. “You’re always holding your parents over my head. You think I’m scared of them?” He dragged my hand forward and forced my thumbprint onto the consent form. Then he shoved me violently, and I fell to the ground in a heap. I pushed myself up, staring at him in disbelief. The man who once couldn’t bear to speak a harsh word to me… had just hit me. Bella immediately rushed to his side, cradling his hand. “Jules, honey, don’t be angry. It’s not worth hurting your hand over someone like her!” Scott’s fury vanished, replaced by a tender concern for his little treasure. “You’re right, you’re right. Let’s not give her another thought.” “Come on, I’ll take you somewhere nice to eat. Help you calm your nerves.” Bella’s eyes darted around. “You go ahead, Jules,” she cooed. “I want to stay and help a little longer!” “Let me do one last thing for the deceased!” Once Scott was gone, Bella’s expression transformed. She walked to the edge of the rubble and picked up a blood-stained piece of concrete. She dropped it in disgust. “Ugh, so gross.” She then picked up a charred piece of wood and began poking at the debris. “This is such a huge mess. It’s going to take forever to dig him out.” “I wonder what he looks like under there. Probably all burnt up. I hope it doesn’t give me nightmares.” While she poked, she took out her phone, snapped a selfie with the ruins in the background, and sent it to Scott. The caption read: Mourning the lost. Hope there are no fires in heaven. Scott’s voice message came back instantly, dripping with affection. “My Bella is as beautiful as she is kind. Not like some people, who are just cold-hearted bitches.” “Don’t stay in that gloomy place too long. Don’t want you catching the bad juju from that place. I’m waiting in the car, baby.” I clapped a hand over my mouth, my stomach churning. Bella looked at me, a sweet, poisonous smile on her face. “Your son is so tragic. Not even a whole body left to bury.” “Sarah, he’s just a pile of meat now. What difference does it make if they dig him out or not? This is for the best. Don’t take it personally.” Of course I didn’t mind. If Scott, his own father, didn’t care, why should a stranger like me? But now that I had seen his true colors, I couldn’t stay with him a moment longer. God only knew when he would sell me and Leo out for his precious Bella. I snatched the phone from her hand and spoke into it. “Scott. I want a divorce.” 3 Scott stormed out of the car. “Sarah, have you lost your mind?” “Rescues are dangerous! Accidents happen! Your son is dead, and now you’re going to blame me?” I looked at him calmly. “I’m not blaming you. I just think we’re not right for each other.” He gritted his teeth, trying to suppress his anger. “I know this is hard for you to accept right now, but Bella and I did everything we could. You can’t just throw the word ‘divorce’ around like it’s a game.” Beside him, Bella let out a delayed gasp, pointing a finger at her own chest. “Sarah, if you’re not blaming Jules… are you blaming me?” Her eyes instantly reddened, and she sank to the ground, burying her face in her hands. “It’s all my fault. I couldn’t save your boy.” “Sarah, hit me, scream at me, do whatever you want! Just please, don’t divorce Jules! He’s innocent!” Scott rushed to help her up, then roared at me, “Bella is already under so much pressure, and you’re deliberately saying things to provoke her! What’s your problem?” “You want a divorce? Get a grip, Sarah. Your son is gone. Your parents are old. You think you’re still some untouchable princess?” “Let me make this clear: the only person you have to rely on from now on is me! Not those two washed-up relics you call parents!” I just watched him. His ugly, twisted face was reflected perfectly in my eyes. “Scott. You finally said what you really think.” “You used my father’s connections to climb the ladder, and now that you’re on top, you see my whole family as a burden.” “The sight of you right now makes me sick.” Scott’s face turned a shade of dark crimson. Bella looked completely lost, her eyes darting between us. “Fine! Divorce it is!” he screamed. “You’ve got balls, Sarah! I’ll give you that!” “You just better pray that your parents stay safe and sound for the rest of their lives, and you don’t come crying to me for help!” Before he left, he glanced back at the ruins. He picked up a property manager’s walkie-talkie and barked into it, “He’s a lost cause. Don’t waste any more manpower. Notify the family to prepare for the funeral.” I had intended to let Scott see his son one last time. Now, I realized, there was no need. A few days later, I arranged a small memorial service for Marcus and notified Scott and his family. He was, after all, my son in name. It was the least I could do. When I returned to the memorial hall after finishing the preparations, I was stunned by what I saw. Red paint had been splashed across Marcus’s portrait, and a cartoon turtle had been crudely drawn on his face. The tables, meant for flowers, were littered with snacks and beer cans. The solemn funeral music had been replaced by a deafening DJ track. “This is much better!” Bella giggled, kicking a funeral wreath aside before grabbing a marker to doodle on the memorial scrolls. I stared, my throat tight, unable to speak. Just then, the door opened. Scott strode in. He glanced at the chaos, but there was no anger on his face. In fact, a cold, satisfied smirk played on his lips. Bella winked at him and ran over like a puppy seeking praise. “Jules, you said you didn’t want the memorial to be so gloomy. What do you think of my decorations? Creative, right?” Scott walked up to the portrait and looked at the defaced image. He didn’t recognize his own son. He even reached out, straightened the frame that Bella had knocked askew, and nodded in satisfaction. His voice was low, but every word was a dagger. “Not bad. All that crying and wailing is so pathetic.” “This is how it should be. A big party. A fitting end.” 4 Even if he wasn’t my biological son, a person deserves respect in death. I stared at Scott, my voice trembling with rage. “You… you can still smile?” He looked at me, bewildered. “It’s a celebration of life, don’t you get it? Does everything have to be doom and gloom to be respectful?” “Your son loved a good party. I’m just giving him what he would have wanted.” “A celebration of life?” I walked toward him, my voice rising with every step. “This is a memorial service! You’ve destroyed his portrait so badly you can’t even recognize him… and you call that respect?” My voice was nearly a roar. “This isn’t honoring the dead! This is desecration!” Bella, startled by my outburst, pouted. “Oh, please. It’s the 21st century. Why are you so old-fashioned? It’s just a dead kid. No need to be so dramatic.” Seeing Scott’s completely unconcerned expression, I suddenly laughed. “If you don’t see a problem with it,” I said slowly, “then who am I to object?” “Let’s do it your way. A celebration of life it is.” Scott paused, a slight frown creasing his brow, as if he hadn’t caught the ice in my tone. He took it as surrender. “Sarah, that’s the spirit,” he said with a smile. “Don’t worry. From now on, I’ll be twice as good to you.” Seeing my compliance, Bella cheered and waved her pack of degenerate friends into the hall. The room quickly filled with the stench of alcohol and the sound of their drunken games. I sat in a corner, watching them, my face a mask of indifference. The emcee arrived on time, holding his program sheet, and froze in the doorway. “What are you waiting for?” Scott ordered. “It’s time. Let’s get started.” The man had no choice but to begin. “Friends, family… today we gather with heavy… uh… joyful hearts, to hold this… celebration of life for the deceased.” A few stifled snickers rose from the crowd. “I’ve seen a wedding get wild, but never a funeral!” “If the kid knew his memorial was a rave, he’d probably rise from the dead just to haunt them!” “No peace even in death. This family must have a lot of enemies.” Bella giggled, making sure I could hear her. “See? Even the emcee called it a celebration of life!” “And you were so angry before. You really need to get with the times! This is all the rage overseas!” Scott shot me a contemptuous look. “Some people are just so rigid. We went to all this trouble to throw your son a unique memorial, and you’re not even grateful.” My lips curved into a smile. “I’m sure my Leo would never be able to appreciate such a… unique memorial,” I said calmly. “As for whether your older son likes it… well, that I don’t know.” Scott’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I just smiled and said nothing. He snorted. “You think being clever with words will bring your son back?” “Pathetic.” Bella immediately linked her arm through his. “Jules, honey, ignore her. She just can’t stand to see you happy.” Just then, the emcee cleared his throat to move to the next part of the program. “And now, we invite the family of the deceased to come forward and say a few words.” As he spoke, the large doors to the hall swung open. An grief-stricken elderly couple walked in, supporting a pale, trembling woman who looked as if she was about to collapse. The smile on Scott’s face froze. The woman was his ex-wife, Victoria. I stood up and walked toward them. “Father, Mother,” I said to his parents. “You’re here.” I paused, my gaze sweeping past the petrified Scott to his red-eyed parents, and added, my voice clear and cutting, “This memorial service was Scott’s idea, for Marcus. He said… it’s a celebration of life.” “He said Marcus always loved a good party, and that this was a fitting end.”

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In our elective, my boyfriend saved a seat only for his childhood best friend. Again. This time, I didn’t fight her. I didn’t make a scene. Clutching my textbook, I just sat down next to the campus genius, Mario Lewis. As my boyfriend and his bestie were deliberately getting cozy, I tugged on Mario’s sleeve. “Your girlfriend and my boyfriend are getting pretty friendly over there. Doesn’t that make you jealous?” Mario’s gaze was cool. “I don’t have a girlfriend.” I bit my lip, leaning in closer. “Well, do you want one?” He stopped writing and looked at me then. “What’s in it for me?” My cheeks flushed. “You get to blow off some steam, and I get my stress levels under control. It’s a win-win.” 1 The moment I stepped into the lecture hall, I saw him. Liam. And right next to him, with an arm slung casually over his shoulder as they laughed about something, was his childhood best friend, Chloe. They saw me at the same time. Liam instinctively tried to push Chloe away, but she just tightened her grip, shooting me a smug, defiant look. “Sorry,” she chirped, her voice loud enough for the rows around them to hear. “Liam only saved one extra seat. First come, first served.” The chatter in the hall slowly died down. All eyes were on us now. This wasn’t the first time Liam had saved a seat only for Chloe. The first time it happened, I was so hurt I just burst into tears and ran out of the room. The second time, Chloe hit me with the same taunt. I fought back, we argued, and I took the seat by force. Liam and I fought for days after that because of her. The stress was so bad my skin was a mess. This time, watching them pull the same tired stunt, I just felt… empty. It was all so pointless. I didn’t fight with Chloe. I didn’t argue with Liam. I didn’t even spare them a second glance. Clutching my textbook, I walked straight to the back row, to the only other empty seat in the entire hall. “Excuse me,” I said softly. “Is this seat taken?” 2 The guy sitting there, headphones on and head down, was scribbling furiously in a notebook. He looked up at the sound of my voice. His gaze seemed to linger on my face for a heartbeat before flickering away. He stood up, giving me room to slide in. “Thanks,” I murmured, settling into the seat by the wall. From the front of the hall, there was a loud thump as a book was slammed onto a desk. I looked up just in time to meet Chloe’s glare. Her eyes were burning with a hatred that was almost startling. Suddenly, I remembered a rumor I’d heard when I first got to campus. Something about Chloe and the guy next to me, Mario Lewis, having some kind of childhood promise—that their families had always planned for them to get married. I couldn’t help but sneak a glance at him. He’d already put his headphones back on, head bent in concentration as he worked through a problem set. All I could see was his sharp profile, radiating an aura of cool, untouchable distance. My phone buzzed. A text from Liam. Lost a bet last night. That’s why I had to save Chloe a seat. Don’t be mad, babe. I’ll take you out for a fancy dinner tonight to make it up to you. I stared at the words, a bitter laugh threatening to escape. There was always an excuse. It was always something. Either Chloe was sick and he had to ditch our date to take her to the clinic, or he was reminding me they grew up together, that they were “basically brothers.” If there was really something going on between them, he’d say, would I even have had a chance with him? Liam was my first love, and I had thrown myself into this relationship completely. That’s why it was always so easy for him to play with my emotions. But now? All I felt was a profound sense of boredom. I didn’t reply. I just closed the message. During the mid-class break, Liam and Chloe started roughhousing again. “Oh, you’re asking for it now, Liam!” Chloe shrieked, lunging at him playfully. It looked more like aggressive flirting than a real fight. She wrapped her hands around his neck, and from his expression, he was loving every second of it. “Alright, alright, can you try acting like a girl for once?” he chuckled. “Please. I’m not one of those fragile little things,” she said, her voice dripping with meaning as she shot a look in my direction. “I don’t burst into crocodile tears to get attention. And I definitely don’t talk in some fake, high-pitched voice. It’s disgusting.” I lowered my head, a small, humorless smile touching my lips. Under the desk, my hand reached out and gently tugged on the sleeve of Mario’s shirt. “Mario.” He turned his head. I pursed my lips and pointed to his headphones. He didn’t say a word, just lifted the earbud on my side. Taking a deep breath, I pitched my voice just like Chloe had described—sweet and a little breathless. “Your girlfriend is being awfully friendly with my boyfriend. Doesn’t that make you jealous?” 3 Mario’s eyes were clear and cold. “I don’t have a girlfriend.” “But I heard… she has a childhood promise with you.” “That’s baseless gossip,” he said, his voice dropping a degree, becoming even colder. I found myself looking at him again, my eyes tracing the clean, sharp line of his jaw before drifting down to the hand holding his pen. Sunlight streamed through the window, enveloping him in a soft glow. In that light, his long fingers looked like they were sculpted from marble. I bit my lip, leaned in closer, and whispered, “Well, do you want one?” “Want what?” He suddenly turned to face me fully. I didn’t have time to pull back. The fresh, cool scent of mint washed over me, and my breath hitched. “A girlfriend.” Mario put his pen down. “What’s in it for me?” My cheeks flushed. I looked down, my lashes casting shadows. A new pimple, red and swollen, was throbbing on the right side of my chin. It was itchy and sore. My roommate said it was from all the stress—my hormones were all out of whack. In the front row, Liam and Chloe were still at it. Chloe was now perched on the edge of a desk, her foot playfully kicking at Liam’s leg. Every so often, she’d glance back at me, letting out an obnoxiously loud laugh. It was the kind of laugh that was supposed to sound carefree, but to me, it was just grating. I remembered the first time I met her. Liam introduced us. She was standing next to him, arm draped over his shoulders just like one of his guy friends, and she looked me up and down with open disdain. Then, she punched Liam playfully in the arm. “Seriously, man? I can’t believe this is your type. A sweet little damsel in distress.” She’d added, “You better not ditch your friends for a girl. I’ll be the first one to call you out.” And Liam… he had just grinned, like he enjoyed being the prize in some twisted competition. I took a deep breath. Just as Chloe let out another theatrical laugh and glanced our way, I tugged on Mario’s sleeve again. “You get to blow off some steam,” I whispered, “and I get my stress levels under control. It’s a win-win.” I’d heard whispers. Mario was working on a killer thesis project. He’d been pulling all-nighters in the lab for weeks. He didn’t speak. He just picked up his pen, twirling it between those perfect fingers. After a long moment, he looked at me again, the corner of his mouth twitching into something that might have been a smile. “Sounds like a decent proposal,” he said softly. “There’s just one problem…” I held my breath. The sun disappeared behind a cloud, and the light in the room dimmed. Mario’s voice seemed to cool with it. “I’m not interested in someone else’s girlfriend.” 4 Class resumed. Chloe was back in her seat, acting like a model student. When the professor walked back in, the room fell silent. In a voice only Mario and I could hear, I whispered, “I’m planning on breaking up with him.” Mario’s eyes stayed fixed on the blackboard. “Then do it. We can talk after.” I didn’t dare say another word. He had a reputation for being a genius, and when he was focused, he had a “do not disturb” aura that was seriously intimidating. For the rest of the lecture, I stared obediently at the professor, but my mind was a million miles away. Just before the bell rang, my phone buzzed again. Liam. Something came up tonight. Can we meet up tomorrow instead? I typed back instantly. No need. Let’s just break up. His reply was almost immediate. Ava, don’t be like this. I promise I’ll spend the whole weekend with you. How many times do I have to tell you, Chloe and I are just friends. Okay, fine. I promise I won’t let her tag along on our date this weekend. I didn’t reply. The moment class was dismissed, Chloe grabbed Liam and started dragging him out of the room. At the doorway, she glanced back, but this time, she wasn’t looking at me. She was looking at Mario. He didn’t notice. He had his headphones on, packing his books away. Chloe’s face fell with a flicker of disappointment before she pulled Liam out into the hallway. “Mario,” I said, my heart pounding as I worked up the courage to stop him as he stood up. “Can I… get your number?” He didn’t pull out his phone. “Break up with him first.” He was tall, and when he looked down at me, I felt completely exposed, like he could see right through me. I couldn’t meet his eyes. Instead, I pulled up my text conversation with Liam and held my phone out for him to see. “Look,” I mumbled. “I already did.” He glanced at the screen. Then, right there in front of him, I deleted and blocked Liam’s contact. “Do you believe me now?” Mario’s impossibly handsome face remained a blank mask. But then, he took out his own phone and pulled up a QR code. “Add me.” 5 Right after I added him, Mario left. He said he was swamped with lab work for the next couple of days and suggested we meet up on Saturday night. I just sat there, watching him walk away until he disappeared from view. Then I sank back into my chair, feeling dazed. If his name wasn’t sitting right there in my contact list, I would’ve thought the whole thing was a dream. I couldn’t sleep that night. Chloe was spamming her social media feed with pictures from a party with their group of childhood friends. In almost every single photo, she and Liam were the center of attention. The last picture was a shot of them kissing. I wanted to be numb, to feel nothing, but I couldn’t. A bitter, self-mocking smile twisted my lips as I deleted Chloe from my contacts. Then, I posted a picture of my own. It was a photo my roommates had taken of me earlier that evening, a shot of my back as I walked across the campus green. It was a beautiful, ethereal picture. For the caption, I wrote: Basking in the clean, sweet air of being single. My phone immediately blew up. Comments from mutual friends flooded in. ??? Ava, did you and Liam have a fight? No way, did you guys break up? I knew this would happen. It’s because of Chloe, isn’t it? I didn’t answer any of them. Because a new message had just popped up. From Mario. Can’t sleep? A little. Are you still in the lab? Yeah. Tonight’s not going well. He sent a picture. On a lab bench, next to a bunch of complex equipment, was a small tortoise shell and some incense sticks. I’ve even resorted to superstition, and the data is still wrong. Oh no. What are you going to do? Is it urgent? Very. The report is due tomorrow. Then… I won’t bother you. A few seconds passed. Then, a voice message appeared. I pressed play. “Weren’t you going to help me blow off some steam?” His voice was low and husky, laced with an undeniable exhaustion that made my stomach flutter. I shot up in bed, my face burning. My heart was hammering against my ribs so hard I thought it might burst. I typed and deleted a reply a dozen times, completely flustered. Another message from him came through. Your chin. Does it still hurt? I bit my lip, hard enough to leave a mark. Yeah. And it’s a little itchy. 6 Mario picked me up and took me to the lab. The first thing I saw when I walked in was an altar-like setup on one of the counters. It had a turtle shell and still-smoldering incense. “A grad student from a few years back left it,” Mario explained. “Swears it’s magic.” On a nearby incubator, a yellowing, hand-written talisman was taped to the glass. “That’s from the student before him,” he added. “We can’t remove it. The fungal cultures won’t grow otherwise.” I quickly pulled back my curious hand. So this is what the most advanced labs at a top university looked like. I guess the end of science really is superstition. Mario slipped on a clean white lab coat. He leaned against the windowsill, the dark circles under his eyes stark against his pale skin. “Unfortunately,” he sighed, “none of it is working tonight.” “So what now?” He shook his head. “I don’t know. All I can do is run the test again.” “Will I… be in your way here?” A small smile touched his lips. “No. I have to wait for the data to process anyway. It’s boring sitting here alone.” “I can keep you company, then.” I walked over and leaned against the windowsill next to him. The moonlight was soft, bathing us both in its gentle glow. I don’t know where the courage came from. “Mario.” “Hm?” “My chin really hurts.” “I can go buy you some…” “My roommate said it’s my hormones. All out of whack from stress.” I turned and looked up at him, my face tilted towards the moonlight. “Want to help me regulate them?”

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The Nth time Parker Presley threatened to break up, I was pulling an all-nighter on my promotion pitch. “Ivy Reed, you have twenty minutes to get to the club and apologize, or we’re done.” I snapped. “This is crucial for my promotion. Can you pick another day to cause a scene?” His voice turned icy. “A scene? Clearly your work matters more. We’re done.” He paused. “And I can be very petty. One call from me, and that promotion vanishes.” I slammed the phone down, trembling. But as I stared into the dark monitor, strange comments scrolled like subtitles across my vision: 【She’s not taking him seriously, is he? He secretly fast-tracked her promotion!】 【If she showed she’d drop her career for him, he’d give her the whole company. He’d never sabotage her.】 【That’s how avoidant types are—we push you away hoping you’ll hold on tighter.】 【He’s probably outside waiting for her to chase him. I live for this angsty romance!】 Doubt crept in. I almost grabbed my coat when a new message lit up my screen: “Heard your promotion’s on the rocks. Interested in jumping ship?” 1 I stared at the bizarre message, trying to place the sender. The display name was just a pair of stylized wings. After confirming it wasn’t a prank, I was still drawing a blank. Could it be Parker, testing me with a burner account? I dismissed the thought almost immediately. Parker was far too proud for such games. In our ten years together, I was always the one to bend, to apologize, to make peace. The late-night cab ride to win him back was a scene we’d rehearsed countless times. My devotion had always been his safety net, making him fearless. So, who sent the message? The phantom comments provided an answer. 【It’s his arch-rival, trying to poach his girl! He must have overheard Parker on the phone in the club’s restroom. He moves fast.】 【Ivy isn’t just Parker’s lover; she’s a rising star at Presley Corp. Of course, Adrian Thorne, as the rival CEO, would try to snatch her up.】 【Come on, you really think the infamous Adrian Thorne, the man who supposedly fantasizes about her nightly, is doing this purely for business?】 My eyes narrowed. Adrian Thorne. I had led the team that beat Thorne Industries on the last major bid. At the corporate gala that night, someone had drunkenly suggested we should connect, to foster “friendly competition.” He hadn’t even glanced at me. I stood there, my smile frozen on my face, until he finally, coldly, held out his phone for a QR scan. I’d assumed he deleted my contact the second he got home. Apparently not. Still, I only half-believed the spectral commentary. Parker never hid our relationship, but in public, he treated me with the detached chill of a superior. To the uninformed, I was just another corporate drone earning a modest salary. Adrian loved to mock him for it. “Keeping a workhorse who warms your bed for free,” he’d sneered once. “A brilliant businessman indeed, Mr. Presley.” Adrian Thorne looked down on me. This offer felt less like a genuine opportunity and more like a calculated move to spite Parker. I swiped his message away, only to see a voicemail from Parker’s assistant. “Ivy, you have to come down here. Mr. Presley is drunk and refuses to leave.” He followed up with a short video of Parker making a scene. I hesitated, starting to change my clothes, but then I froze. At the thirty-second mark, Stella Moon’s silvery laugh cut through the noise. 【Here we go again. He always calls the other woman over just to make the heroine jealous.】 【It works every time, though. The moment he threatens to replace her, she loses her mind.】 【Just go, Ivy! I’ll bet my premium subscription that if you just apologize and coax him a little, he’ll be on his knees for you tonight.】 【I get him completely. There’s nothing more satisfying than seeing your partner fall apart over the thought of losing you. It proves how much they love you.】 I stood there, stunned. So, the comments weren’t a hallucination. They called me the heroine, and Parker the hero. And just as they described, Parker was constantly threatening to leave, waiting for me to come running back. If I didn’t, he’d sic his entourage on me. But even when I did show up, he wouldn’t yield immediately. The last time, I took an overnight train to appease him. I walked into his hotel room, exhausted and disheveled. He didn’t even look at me, instead pulling Stella closer to him. “Who told you to call her? I thought she was so determined to break up.” But a moment later, his body betrayed him. He was across the room, his hand finding mine, leading me away. That night, he was insatiable, and the next day, he showered me with gifts and planned a lavish vacation to make up for it. I once asked him if he wasn’t afraid I’d actually leave. He’d buried his face in my neck, murmuring like a child. “My love would never leave me over something so small.” “Ivy, as long as you take one step towards me, I’ll always take the other ninety-nine.” But he didn’t understand. After being put through this wringer time and time again, I didn’t want to take a single step. This emotionally draining dance… I was done. When I didn’t reply, his assistant started calling incessantly. I wavered, wondering if I should just give in one last time. Then, a message from Stella popped up. “Parker says you don’t need to come. He’s taking me to see the sunrise!” She attached a video. “Parker, darling, Ivy still isn’t here. You don’t think she’s actually serious about breaking up, do you?” Parker downed his drink in one go. “We’re done. Don’t mention her.” He turned to Stella. “You’ve always wanted to see the sunrise with me, right? Let’s go.” His eyes flickered towards the camera for a split second. He knew she was recording. I took a deep breath and threw my phone onto the bed. I went back to polishing my presentation slides. Believing in my own capabilities was a much safer bet than trusting a phantom comment feed that claimed Parker had already guaranteed my promotion. Unlike Parker and Stella, I wasn’t born with a silver spoon. For someone like me, who started with nothing, every opportunity had to be seized with my own two hands. 2 Parker didn’t come home. I didn’t sleep a wink. The next morning, I walked into the office with a heavy heart, only to find him already there. He was impeccably dressed, his expression unreadable, radiating the oppressive aura of a CEO. He was a world away from the childish, volatile man from last night. I delivered my presentation, my voice tight with nerves. When I finished, he applauded along with everyone else, his gaze cool and professional. I was baffled. Had my refusal to play his game actually… worked? After the meeting, I found a small, elegant gift box on every desk. The Director of Finance next to me gasped. “Wow, having a CEO for a boyfriend has its perks! He’s even giving out gifts for his girlfriend’s promotion.” An admin assistant cleared her throat. “Actually, these are welcome gifts from the new executive assistant to the CEO.” The director was floored. “A limited-edition perfume for every single person? As a welcome gift? What is this, some new way for the rich kids to flex on us wage slaves?” The admin shot a nervous glance in my direction and pulled the director aside. “The new assistant is the sole heiress to the Moon Corporation, one of our biggest clients. Mr. Presley paid for the gifts himself. Said he wanted to help his childhood friend make a good impression.” So, it was Stella. Of course. Stella had always wanted a position at Presley Corp to get closer to Parker. Her family had repeatedly proposed a corporate marriage alliance between them. Parker had always refused, for my sake. But after one night, he’d caved. And he’d given her a position in the CEO’s office—his personal assistant. A position I, his actual girlfriend, was never allowed to hold. I tried to force the thoughts of what happened between them last night out of my head and opened a file, determined to work. A colleague informed me that Parker wanted to see me. It was perfect timing; I needed to see him too. I walked straight to the executive office. The door was ajar. Inside, Stella was perched on the edge of Parker’s desk, her back to me. The curve of her waist in the tight pencil skirt was cupped in Parker’s hand. A sharp, stinging pain shot through my own palm. I never thought I’d see him be so intimate with someone else. I cleared my throat. Stella jumped, startled. When she saw it was me, the smile vanished from her face. She pouted. “Been working here for years and you still don’t know to knock?” I flinched. I’d never once considered knocking on Parker’s door. “My apologies. Next time you’re doing something… private, you should remember to close the door.” Parker, who had been waiting for my outburst, saw the cold calm on my face and his expression shifted. But he quickly masked it. “What can I do for you, Mr. Presley?” I asked, my voice devoid of emotion. “Regarding your promotion,” he said evenly, “the board has decided to put it on hold.” Stella shot me a triumphant look. I stared at the tips of my shoes. “I see,” I murmured. He wasn’t lying. Because I didn’t come running, he had blocked my promotion with a flick of his wrist. A crushing weight settled in my chest, and a hot sting pricked the back of my eyes. Thank God for the phantom comments; their warning was the only thing allowing me to maintain my composure. “Okay. Noted.” The silence in the room was suffocating. “If you want to fight for it…” he started. “I don’t,” I cut him off. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll be going.” I turned sharply, but he called my name. “One more thing. The Atheria project will be handled by Stella from now on. You can transfer everything over to her today.” I whipped around. “What did you say?” I had poured six months of my life into the Atheria project. I’d gone months without a single day off, my nights fueled by a cocktail of pills just to get a few hours of restless sleep. That project was my lifeline. It was my chance to prove to everyone that I wasn’t just Parker’s girlfriend who’d coasted her way up. He knew how much it meant to me. He had even secretly pulled strings to help me secure resources. And now, just as it was about to bear fruit, he was handing it over to her? “Stella is new here. She needs a high-profile project to establish herself,” he said, his voice cold as steel. “The Atheria project is well-known and on the verge of success. It’s perfect for her to cut her teeth on.” My voice trembled, thick with unshed tears. “You know that project is everything to me. Why would you do this?” A cruel, vengeful smile touched his lips. “I told you. I’m petty. And I hold a grudge.” He leaned back in his chair. “Besides, I’m the boss. I don’t need your approval to assign a project. If you’re not happy, you’re free to resign.” Stella covered her mouth, her eyes sparkling with amusement. I looked from one to the other—her gloating, him utterly composed. They were both so certain I wouldn’t dare let go. “Fine,” I said, my voice ringing with a finality that wiped the smirk off Parker’s face. “I quit.” His smile vanished, replaced by disbelief. He raised his voice, a crack in his composure. “Ivy, don’t think for a second that being my girlfriend gives you the right to throw a tantrum. Don’t push me. I’m not afraid to let you walk!” I met his glare with a cold stare of my own. “You seem to be forgetting, Mr. Presley. We broke up.” He was speechless. Stella, seeing the escalating tension, feigned concern. “Parker, darling, maybe we should just forget it. I don’t want you two fighting because of me.” She then turned to me, her eyes glinting with provocation. “I’m so clumsy, I’d probably just mess up the project and waste all of Ivy’s hard work.” Parker stroked her hair, his voice dripping with affection. “It doesn’t matter if you mess it up. It’s just a small project. Trivial.” A hot rage surged through me, so powerful I had to physically restrain myself from lunging at them. My nails dug into my palms, drawing blood. “A company that uses projects to woo women isn’t a place I care to work for anyway.” I let out a bitter laugh. “I guess all my years of hard work were just thrown to the dogs.” Stella’s face contorted. “Who are you calling a dog?” “Whoever the shoe fits,” I sneered. “Ivy!” Parker’s face was thunderous. I turned and walked away without a backward glance. 3 I stumbled back to my desk like a zombie. Only when I was sure no one was looking did the tears finally come, hot and silent. The comments reappeared. 【You fool! That was all an act for you! The second you left, he kicked Stella out of his office.】 【He just wanted to see you get jealous and back down. He never thought you’d be stubborn enough to quit over it.】 【If you’re going to date a man in power, you have to learn to be submissive. You can’t have your pride and the money.】 【She’s not thinking straight. Without this job, who’s going to pay for her sick mother’s medical bills? Does she think her pride pays for prescription drugs?】 They were right. My mother’s life depended on an outrageously expensive imported medication. The salary Parker paid me was the only thing keeping her alive. If the treatment stopped, the only family I had left in this world would be gone. Just as the financial panic set in, a message from Parker appeared—a rare occurrence for him to initiate contact. “Apologize to Stella, and I’ll consider giving you the project back.” “I’ll also put you in charge of the new portfolio in the fall.” “And your access card. Come get it.” This was the first time Parker had ever backed down. The comments chimed in with their support. 【He’s finally bending! You have no idea how hard that is for a man with his pride.】 【As a fellow avoidant, I’m touched. We have to really love someone to be the first to apologize! Ivy, you have to cherish this!】 【Aside from his pride, he’s rich, handsome, and devoted. Don’t throw away a man like that.】 It was true. For all his theatrics, Parker had been good to me. If I could just endure this one aspect of him, he was, by all accounts, an excellent partner. But I typed my reply without hesitation. “My letter of resignation will be with HR by the end of the day.” A long pause. Then, his reply. “You’re serious?” “Fine. Don’t come crying to me later.” “Don’t regret this when you realize your stubbornness cost you both your relationship and your career.” I collapsed onto my desk, sobbing without a sound. My heart ached for our ten years together, and I mourned the job I loved. But I couldn’t accept being treated this way. He had a black hole of need inside him, and he tried to fill it by hurting me. I was trapped in a darkness with no end in sight, and I was losing myself. If our relationship was a slow, painful death, then it was better to end it myself. 4 I sent my resignation email, then pulled up Adrian Thorne’s contact. “Mr. Thorne, is your offer still on the table?” He replied instantly. “It is. But not for Parker Presley’s girlfriend.” Me: “Ex-girlfriend. And ex-employee.” Silence. My heart leaped into my throat. Had I been right? Was this all just a game to get back at Parker, and he never expected me to actually follow through? After what felt like an eternity, my phone buzzed. It was a picture of a stunning corner office with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the river. “The office is ready for you. Should I come pick you up for a tour?” I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. What kind of grudge did Adrian hold against Parker? I was just a mid-level manager at Presley Corp. Why was he rolling out the red carpet? “Let me finish the handover here first.” Him: “Don’t bother. Let’s twist the knife a little. Whatever the penalty is, I’ll cover it.” Before I could respond, another message came through. “You know what, never mind. Say a proper goodbye to your past. I know how breakups feel. If you need to get blackout drunk, call me. I’ll be your designated driver.” I sighed. No wonder people said Adrian Thorne was eccentric and unpredictable. This was… a lot. … Parker was nowhere to be seen for the rest of the afternoon. His assistant said he was personally escorting Stella on a tour of every department. A presidential escort—a privilege I’d never had. When I first joined the company, Parker was still finding his footing at Presley Corp. He was terrified of office gossip, so we kept our relationship a secret. He asked me to understand. Parker had been kidnapped as a child and spent three years living in the slums with me, collecting scrap to survive before his family found him. When he returned, his parents had already moved on, doting on their second son. Parker became an awkward, superfluous presence. He poured himself into his studies and his work, desperate for his family’s approval. To support him, I pretended not to know him for my first two years at the company. It wasn’t until I had a string of successful projects under my belt that we finally went public. And now, Parker, fully aware that people in the office shipped him and his “childhood sweetheart,” was parading her around without a second thought. That blatant favoritism was a knife in my heart. “See? I told you the billionaire CEO would end up marrying the girl from his own world. Stella joining the company is just the first step to becoming Mrs. Presley.” “Some people think climbing into the boss’s bed is a ticket to the top. They should take a look at where they come from first.” The whispers followed me as news of my resignation spread. Colleagues who had always disliked me no longer bothered to hide their contempt. I ignored the gossip. Growing up scrounging for tuition money, I’d been looked down on my whole life. I was used to it. Then, HR called. Her voice was strained. “Ivy… Ms. Moon says your office has a better view. She wants to move in. So… could you please clear out your things immediately?” Before I could answer, a guy from IT was standing in front of my desk. “Ms. Reed, I’m here to supervise your data transfer and ensure no company property is compromised upon your departure.” He spoke loudly, and the chatter around us intensified. I looked at my computer, where my access had already been revoked, and gave a bitter laugh. The humiliation was a deliberate, final stab from Parker. Fighting back tears, I numbly packed my personal belongings into a cardboard box. I tossed the gifts Parker had given me, along with a framed photo of us, into the trash. Box in my arms, I walked towards the elevator and ran right into Stella, who was handing out her little gift boxes. Parker stood beside her, his hand possessively on her arm. She blocked my path. “Don’t go yet, Ivy. The CEO is treating the whole company to a sushi buffet tonight to celebrate my arrival. You should eat before you leave, right?” Parker said nothing, his face a mask of indifference. The comments were more agitated than I was. 【That shameless bitch. Tonight’s dinner was supposed to be for Ivy’s promotion! Parker is just using her to provoke Ivy.】 【Please, Ivy, just give in! If you don’t go back, he’s going to drink himself into a stupor tonight, and Stella will take him home, and then it’ll be too late!】 I shoved past her. “Get out of my way. I’m busy.” She grabbed my arm. “Is it because you’re ashamed of being dumped? Or is it because you got fired for being incompetent and can’t bear to show your face around here anymore?” I stared at her smug, arrogant face and I snapped. I slapped her, hard. “Get lost. You’re not worthy of eating with me.” Stella shrieked and threw herself at Parker. “Parker, darling, she hit me! She’s a lunatic! She’s insane!” Parker shielded her, his eyes blazing with fury at me. I took a step closer to them. “And you,” I said, raising my hand to Parker. “You’re trash, too.” Before the slap could land, he caught my wrist in a vice-like grip and shoved me away. “Ivy! Cut the crazy act!” I stumbled back, hitting the wall. A sharp pain shot up my spine, but I forced myself to stand tall, blinking back tears. I met his glacial gaze. “I slapped your little girlfriend, Mr. Presley. If you have a problem with it, call the police.” 5 I strode out of the Presley Corp building, but a voice stopped me at the entrance. A man in dark sunglasses was leaning against a flamingo-pink convertible, a wicked smile playing on his lips. A group of girls walking by couldn’t help but pull out their phones to snap pictures. 【He’s here! The peacock has been waiting forever.】 【The moment he heard she was single, he just had to start showing off.】 I sighed internally but managed a weak smile as I approached. “Mr. Thorne? What are you doing here?” He gestured towards the passenger seat with his chin. “Came to collect the prize bull I just spent a fortune poaching. Got to get her into the new pasture, right?” I gritted my teeth and opened the car door. “Then let’s head to your office and go over my new role.” A smirk touched his lips as he floored the accelerator. “Don’t worry. I’ll drop you at the airport after our meeting. Wouldn’t want you to miss your trip.” I froze. “How did you know I bought a plane ticket?” He snapped his fingers. “Please. I’m Adrian Thorne.” Adrian led me into a conference room at Thorne Industries. After a brief introduction, he dove straight into work, no pleasantries exchanged. For a man with such a playboy reputation, he was ruthlessly efficient and meticulous. Two hours later, as promised, he drove me to the airport. He insisted on carrying my luggage all the way to the security gate. “We’ll be seeing each other again very soon,” he said as he handed it to me. His words were odd, but I was too drained to analyze them. He was just an odd person. Just then, a message from Parker came through. “Whose car did you just get into?” “I told you, I don’t tolerate betrayal, Ivy. Hiring some actor to pick you up to make me jealous? That’s pathetic.” I let out a hollow laugh. He thought Adrian was an actor I’d hired. The hypocrisy was astounding. Was his public groping of Stella not “betrayal”? I couldn’t be bothered to argue. “Mr. Presley, we have broken up. And I have resigned. My life is no longer any of your business.” A second later, he was calling me. “Ivy, you’ve taken this too far. There’s a limit to these tantrums.” I scoffed. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Mr. Presley, but wasn’t it you who broke up with me?” His voice frayed with emotion. “I may have said the words, but we had an agreement! You take one step, and I take the other ninety-nine. Ivy, why couldn’t you just bend for me this one time?” “I’m tired, Parker,” I said, each word heavy. “I don’t want to take any more steps.” He was silent for a moment, his tone softening when he spoke again. “If you’re tired, then take a break and come back. There’s a dinner tonight. Get some rest, dress up nicely. I’ll pick you up.” “I’m not going to Stella’s welcome party.” He paused. “It’s not for her. It was always for your promotion. If you come back tonight, we can start over with the promotion. If you’re worried about losing face, I’ll re-issue the announcement in a few weeks.” “Parker, are you deaf? We broke up. I quit. I am not coming tonight.” He hissed through his teeth. “Do you have to be so damn stubborn? Is it that hard to humble yourself for the man you love?” I laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. “Haven’t I humbled myself enough? Parker, when are you going to listen to me? I said I’m tired…” His breathing grew ragged. “I knew it. I don’t matter to you! Is this why you broke up with me? Because of that man who picked you up today? Ivy, how could you do this to us, after ten years?!” I felt a wave of helpless fury, wishing I could reach through the phone and shake him. Instead, I just ended the call and boarded the plane. As the flight attendant’s voice came over the intercom, I stared out the window. Behind me lay a decade of heavy, suffocating love for Parker, tangled with tears, resentment, and a pain I could never voice. Ahead of me was a new sky, vast and open.

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I was on my way to confess my feelings to my dream guy when I got mugged. The mugger tore up the ninety-plus love letters I’d written for him. So, I broke three of the mugger’s ribs. The next day, we both ended up on the local news. My dream guy, Henry, sent me a text: “Innocent little wallflower, huh? Savage.” 1 I’d been chasing Henry for four months, and for three and a half of them, I’d been playing the part of a delicate, innocent wallflower. The first fifteen days were my trial-and-error phase. I engineered a series of “coincidental” encounters with him, trying out a different persona each time. I went from the cool, aloof ice queen to the adorable, bubbly girl-next-door; from a sun-kissed, athletic type to a calculating, dark-academia genius. I was on the verge of developing a personality disorder. But he treated me like I was thin air. Then, by a stroke of luck, my roommate stayed up all night binging an old-school billionaire romance series. She swore to me that cold, ruthless men like Henry all had a secret weakness for clumsy, fragile girls who were as kind and pure as angels. So, on day sixteen, I dressed myself in the plainest, most unassuming clothes I owned and “accidentally” stumbled right into him. He finally deigned to lift his head, his gaze sweeping over me with disinterest. Then he spoke the first words he’d ever said to me in two weeks— “Get off.” The billionaire romance novels didn’t lie. I was so moved I could have cried. And so, I kept up the innocent wallflower act for the next three and a half months. Yesterday, my life as his number one admirer took a dramatic turn. After steeling my nerves, I asked Henry out to a movie for the fiftieth time—and he actually said yes. He agreed to see a movie with me! That was basically a marriage proposal, right? In my head, I’d already picked out names for our second kid. My roommates rallied around me, treating the date like a top-secret military operation. The first spent three hours crafting a flawless, barely-there, “no-makeup” makeup look. The second styled me in an immaculate, all-white outfit, the epitome of wallflower chic. The third channeled her inner drill sergeant, rigorously coaching my every word and gesture. As for me, I pulled an all-nighter, pouring my heart into ninety handwritten love letters for him. Our mission: to conquer Henry’s heart and officially end my two decades of singledom. The next afternoon, with my roommates cheering me on, I floated out the door, my heart soaring. A beautiful, epic romance was just around the corner. On the way, I even stopped by an arcade to get a fistful of tokens. A date isn’t complete without winning a prize from a claw machine to really elevate the romance. And then— Not long after I left the arcade, I ran into a mugger. 2 The burly man held a knife to me, snatched my phone, and backed me into a dark alley, demanding I hand over all my money. A smart girl knows when to fold. I glanced at his grizzled face, then at the gleaming blade in his hand. Without a second’s hesitation, I tremblingly scooped a handful of arcade tokens from my bag and offered them to him. The man flicked me hard on the forehead. “You trying to be funny with me?” Then— He expertly snatched the tokens from my hand and stuffed them into his pocket. “All of it. Don’t make me get it myself,” he growled, his face a mask of menace. I shakily offered him another handful of tokens. The mugger stared at me. He took the tokens, then flicked my forehead again, harder this time. The force of it nearly brought tears to my eyes. “Damn, you’re broke! I only targeted you ’cause I saw you leaving the arcade with your bag stuffed full.” He started rummaging through my bag himself, a hint of regret in his voice. You didn’t look very closely, I thought, rolling my eyes. My bag was already bulging when I went in, thanks to the ninety love letters. The mugger pulled out three more handfuls of tokens. Furious, he flicked my forehead again, this time with the full force of his frustration behind it. Tears finally streamed down my face. “That’s all the money I have,” I sobbed. He refused to give up. He felt a side pocket and pulled out a small, folded card. On it was written— “Your eyes, like stars, shining so bright, one look and I fell into their light. Don’t you worry, it feels so right, maybe this was destiny’s might, I can’t look away from you tonight.” “What the hell is this?” I could see genuine, bizarre confusion in his beady little eyes. “It’s… a love letter I wrote,” I mumbled, my face burning. He pulled out another one— “Like a chemical reaction, a fantasy forgiven by isolation. It must be your gentle gaze, setting my world ablaze, warming my heart’s maze, healing my broken days.” “I read this and I feel like I’m about to start singing,” the mugger scoffed. “Broke-ass kid, wasting your time on useless crap.” He raised his hand and, with a flick of his wrist, sent all ninety of my love letters fluttering into the grimy air. That was too much! That was my entire night’s work. A surge of rage washed over me. While he was busy pocketing the last of the tokens, I bent down, snatched a loose brick from the ground, and brought it down hard on his head. Caught completely off guard, the man crumpled to the ground. “You damn—you’re asking for it,” he grunted, stubbornly trying to push himself back up. I took a running start and kicked him squarely in the chest, sending him sprawling back down. His knife clattered away into the darkness. “Give me back my phone,” I demanded, plopping myself down on his chest to keep him from escaping. I heard a sickening crack from his ribs. Suddenly, he went completely still. He wasn’t even struggling anymore. Oh god, did I kill him? A wave of panic hit me. I scrambled off him and shook his arm. “Hey, mister? Are you okay?” “Just… call the cops,” he wheezed, his voice barely a whisper. “And an ambulance.” I fished my phone out of his token-filled pocket and shakily dialed 911. “Hello? I’m in the alley about two blocks down from the Main Street Arcade. I’ve just been mugged,” I said, my voice thick with fake tears. I was genuinely worried he wouldn’t make it until the police arrived. “So, is this your first time mugging someone?” I asked, squatting beside him after hanging up. I figured a little conversation might distract him from the pain. He let out a pained groan and turned his head away from me. “Why didn’t you just take my whole bag?” I scooted around to face him, unable to hold back my burning question. His breathing was loud and ragged, each breath sounding like it could be his last. 3 When the police arrived, I was sitting next to the mugger, checking to see if he was still breathing. “You’re the one who called it in?” An officer stepped out of the car, gun drawn, and stared at me. The rest of his squad fanned out behind him, their expressions a mixture of confusion and caution. I glanced at the half-dead man on the ground, then at the officer’s weapon. “I might have accidentally subdued him,” I said meekly. And so— The mugger was loaded into an ambulance, and I was taken to the police station. After I gave my statement, the officer handed me back my two pockets full of tokens and the scattered pile of love letters. The sky was completely dark by the time I walked out. “You’re late.” The message popped up on my phone the second I turned it on. A bolt of lightning shot through me. I had completely forgotten about my movie date with Henry. I frantically dialed his number. He picked up after a few rings. “What happened?” His voice, even through the phone, was as smooth and magnetic as ever. “I got mugged on my way over. I’m still at the police station. I was so scared,” I whimpered, the wallflower persona kicking in automatically. The officer who took my statement was packing up his notebook. He shot me a strange, unreadable look. “Your address. I’ll come get you.” Henry, my kind-hearted hero, didn’t hesitate. I gave him the address of the station. He just said, “Okay,” and told me to wait. “I’ll just wait here for a bit. Someone’s coming to pick me up,” I told the officer, flashing what I hoped was an innocent, grateful smile. He nodded in understanding, but the weird expression never left his face. 4 I didn’t notice Henry when he arrived because I was deep in the trenches of a heated League of Legends match, furiously typing insults at my teammates in the chat. “Mia.” It was only after the match ended that he finally spoke my name. I looked up mechanically, quickly locking my phone screen. “Henry, you don’t have perfect vision, do you?” I asked, trying to sound casual. “No,” he said, pausing for a fraction of a second. He nodded slowly. “Were you just looking at something I wasn’t supposed to see?” “Hahahaha, that’s great!” I let out a huge sigh of relief. “My phone screen cracked when I dropped it, so it’s just showing a bunch of asterisks when I type. I didn’t want you to think less of me,” I said, shoving my phone in my pocket. It was a flawless excuse. The corner of his mouth twitched. “Are you hurt?” he asked, changing the subject. I stared at his lips, how they moved when he spoke. God, they were perfect. I could feel the drool pooling in my mouth. I shook my head, my persona as solid as a rock. “I’m okay. He took all my money and he hit me, but I’m really okay.” “He hit you?” Henry’s brow furrowed, his expression darkening. “Yeah, three times,” I nodded eagerly. He held out his long, elegant hand. “Let’s get you up. I’m taking you to the hospital to get checked out.” This was my chance to create a moment. I immediately took his hand and let him pull me to my feet. “Excuse me, do you know which hospital they took the suspect to?” Once I was standing, I was reluctant to let go of his hand. To his credit, probably out of some sense of humanitarian duty, Henry didn’t pull away. But he turned to ask the officer about the mugger. “He’s at St. Jude’s,” I blurted out, my heart pounding. “Oh, my head feels a little dizzy from where he hit me. Can we just go home? I really need to lie down,” I said, tugging on his sleeve and leaning weakly against him. His whole body went rigid, but he didn’t push me away. And thankfully, he dropped the subject. “I’m taking you to a doctor. We need to make sure you don’t have a concussion,” he said after a slight cough. The mugger was probably lying in a bed at that very hospital. Going there would blow my cover completely. I waved my hands frantically. “No, no, it’s fine!” “We should get it checked out,” he insisted, his hand steady on my arm. “Really, it’s okay! It’s so late, I just want to go home and sleep!” I was getting desperate, and my voice, without its usual delicate filter, came out loud and clear. Henry froze. He gave me a complicated look. “Well, you certainly sound energetic. I guess you’re probably fine.” I stared back at him. Now it was my turn to look complicated. 5 That should have been the end of it. But then, they pulled the security footage from the alley. It all started when the local police department was featured on a reality show, something like a local version of Cops. One of the officers recounted the most memorable calls from the past week. The show’s producers, bless their soulless hearts, tracked down the footage of my case, edited it into a segment, and the clip immediately went viral. The security footage clearly showed me grabbing a brick and knocking the 250-pound mugger to the ground. When he tried to get up, I flew at him with a kick that sent him sprawling, then pinned him to the pavement with my butt until he couldn’t move. The video ended with him, lying on the ground, begging me to call the police. I hadn’t seen the clip myself, but Henry was kind enough to share it with me. The title of the video was emblazoned across the top: “Gen Z Girl Annihilates Mugger, Who Begs Her to Call the Cops to Save His Life.” “Didn’t realize you were such a hero,” he texted. I could practically hear his deadpan voice through the screen. “You didn’t see the beginning!” I typed back frantically. “He insulted the love letters I wrote for you! He insulted my love for you!” I was trying to salvage the situation. Henry’s response: “Savage.” I stared at the word, unsure how to reply. I gave up, flopped onto my bed, and opened the video’s comment section. “LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOO” “That dude’s been mugging people for years and he finally met his final boss.” “Three simple moves to make a criminal rethink his life choices!” For a crime story, the comment section was an unusually peaceful, harmonious place. 6 That night, the internet sleuths found my TikTok account. I gained 3,000 followers overnight. My TikTok is usually just a random collection of food, fun, and the occasional nerdy dance video. The comments were normally from a handful of friends and family. Now, it was a pilgrimage site. Underneath my dance videos, the comments were ruthless: “Where can I find a champion like this?” “Am I blind, or is she just wringing the air dry?” “I can feel the raw power and tenacity.” And, of course, an endless, soul-crushing stream of “LMAO.” My roommate tried to console me. “You may have lost love, but you’re on the path to fortune. When you’re forty, you can hire ten guys who look just like Henry.” “How vulgar! I’m not that shallow. I love Henry for his beautiful soul!” I huffed, defending my honor. Though, I had to admit, the thought of twenty Henrys bowing to my every whim was… appealing. Just thinking about it filled me with a new sense of purpose. My fingers flew across the keyboard. “What are you doing?” my roommate asked, pointing at the academic journal database open on my laptop. “You have a paper due soon?” I shook my head. “I’m writing a new love letter for Henry. The last ninety didn’t truly capture my feelings.” My roommate stared at me, dumbfounded. “Hmph. I’m not like you people,” I said with a smirk. “I’m going to have it all: love and money. I’ll have the young and beautiful Henry by my side twenty years ahead of schedule.” At two in the morning, I sent Henry my meticulously crafted, 3,000-word masterpiece of a love letter. Five minutes later, he replied with a plagiarism report showing an 88% match. I was speechless. I typed back: Your attention to detail reminds me of one of my mom’s relatives. The three dots indicating he was typing appeared and disappeared for two full minutes. Finally, a single message came through: ? My mom’s future son-in-law, I sent, feeling giddy. Henry: lol He didn’t deny it! He even said “lol”! He really, really wanted to be my mom’s son-in-law. 7 “Henry!” The next day at lunch, I “coincidentally” ran into him in the cafeteria, as usual. “What a coincidence! We must be destined to meet,” I chirped, setting my tray down across from him and sliding into the seat beside him. He shot me a cool glance and didn’t reply. Thanks to my frequent “coincidences,” Henry’s roommates had learned to make themselves scarce the moment I appeared. “Let’s go to the movies tonight. I promise nothing will go wrong this time. I’ll stick to the main roads,” I said, poking his elbow. He put down his fork, a thoughtful look on his face. “I won’t even go near an arcade! I won’t carry a single cent! No one will have a reason to rob me!” I held up three fingers, swearing an oath. Henry gently pushed my hand down and pulled out his phone. He wasn’t smiling, but I could see a flicker of amusement in his eyes. My internal alarms blared. Was he about to text some other girl right in front of me? A second later, a notification popped up on my phone. A message from Henry. He had forwarded me a video. Suspicious, I pressed play. And then— My own voice, loud and unfiltered, boomed from the speakers. “Alright everyone, watch this! I’ll make you some juice!” On the screen, my face was contorted in a ferocious grimace as I crushed an entire apple in my bare hand in under five seconds. Silence. A profound, deafening silence filled the space between us. I forgot how to move. … It was a video my aunt took last Thanksgiving at a family dinner. My cousin had just shown off by opening a beer bottle with his teeth, and not to be outdone, I’d performed my signature party trick: hand-juicing an apple. At the time, everyone thought it was hilarious, and they’d egged me on to post it to TikTok. Well, it was still hilarious. Just not for me. I wanted to cry. “Henry, what if I told you that was my alter ego? Would you believe me?” I stammered, inventing a sci-fi explanation on the spot. “She’s a super-strong warrior. The real me is… very delicate.” A small laugh escaped his lips. “Pfft.” “It’s true! I’ve been meaning to tell you,” I insisted, pouting. His voice was laced with amusement now, as if I’d just told the funniest joke in the world. “So why decide to tell me today?” I kept the lie going. “I wanted to give you a heads-up. It’s better you know now than finding out during the pre-nuptial check-up.” Henry went silent. I might have been imagining it, but the tips of his ears turned bright red.

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It was the night of my company’s celebration dinner. Suddenly, a notification popped up in the family group chat. An unfamiliar cartoon avatar tagged my husband. “Dad, can I get some cash? I want to buy a new gaming console.” I froze. I checked again. Yes, this was my husband’s immediate family chat group. Mark and I had been married for years. We had one daughter, Eleanor. Since when did we have another child? The message was quickly deleted, but I couldn’t just pretend it never happened. Before I could do anything, my husband called me. “Hey, can you believe this? One of my distant relatives’ kids tagged the wrong dad!” His voice was light, casual. I played along, agreeing that kids could be careless. But as soon as the dinner was over, I headed for the parking garage, already on the phone with a private investigator, asking him to look into the owner of that account. 1 The city lights blurred past the car window, but my thoughts were stuck on that single, deleted message. I’ve always been a suspicious person. My motto is, “Better to be safe than sorry, and never let anything slide.” On my social media feed, Mark had just posted an update: “Quality time with my girl, helping her with homework.” It was accompanied by a photo. In the picture, the living room was brightly lit. Eleanor was staring into the camera, her expression blank. On a whim, I zoomed in on the photo. And there, reflected in the dark pools of my daughter’s eyes, was the image of a woman and a young boy. I had never seen them before in my life. Two hours later, I pulled up to my in-laws’ house. It was the weekend, and Mark always took Eleanor to visit them. When I arrived, a strange woman opened the door. The smile on her face froze solid. Her reaction told me everything. I was right. She stammered, her words tumbling over each other. “I… I’m Melissa. I’m just here to visit Mr. and Mrs. Collins.” I didn’t answer. I pushed past her and walked inside. Mark’s voice floated from the living room. “Melissa, who is it?” Melissa, of course, didn’t dare to speak. After a moment of silence, Mark came to see for himself. He saw me standing there, travel-worn and grim, and the air in the hallway instantly became thick and suffocating. I pushed past him and entered the living room. My in-laws had been gathered around a little boy. When they saw me, they both shot to their feet. My mother-in-law’s knee hit the coffee table with a loud thud, but she forced a stiff, unnatural smile onto her face. “Oh, you’re here! Mark said you were busy with work tonight.” “I finished,” I said flatly. My gaze fell on my daughter. Eleanor was sitting alone in a corner of the sofa. The moment she saw me, her eyes welled up and she ran into my arms. “Mommy, you’re finally here.” I held her close, my heart aching. Eleanor was usually such a stoic child; she rarely showed her emotions like this. What had they put her through while I was gone? Melissa had positioned herself next to Mark, looking at me with a pitiful, wronged expression. Mark patted her shoulder reassuringly, then turned to me. “Have you eaten? I can heat something up for you.” “No, thanks.” I was in no mood to eat. My mother-in-law shot a look at her husband, tugging on his sleeve. My father-in-law cleared his throat and put on his sternest face to lecture me. “Look at you, coming in here with a long face, as if we owe you something.” I suddenly laughed. My eyes landed on Melissa. She was looking at me, her hands twisting the hem of her dress. She wore light makeup, a simple, conservative dress, and a knitted cardigan—a classic “good wife” look that was the polar opposite of my style. Mark subtly moved to block my view, reaching for my purse. “Why don’t you go wash up? I’ll get you a glass of warm milk.” I didn’t move. I just looked down at my daughter, who was still clinging to my waist, refusing to let go. Her eyes were red and puffy. She whispered, “Mommy, I want to go home.” “What’s wrong? Did someone bully you?” I stroked her hair, my heart twisting with pain. “I… I don’t like Leo,” she mumbled into my side. At the mention of his name, the little boy who had been engrossed in his video game looked up. That one glance sent a chill down my spine. The resemblance was uncanny. His eyes, his brow—he looked just like Mark. “This child…” My voice was calm, as if I still knew nothing. “He looks like a strong little guy.” The boy looked to be about seven or eight. His narrow eyes stared straight at me, and then he shouted at the top of his lungs, “Daddy, who is this lady? What is she doing in our house?” 2 The color drained from Mark’s face. Melissa frantically clapped a hand over the boy’s mouth, her fingertips trembling. “Kids say the darndest things, don’t they… He’s always getting people mixed up.” “Is that so? He seemed pretty sure about that ‘Daddy’ part,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. I led my daughter to the sofa and sat down. My mother-in-law immediately jumped in to smooth things over. “Oh, he’s just a child, he doesn’t know any better. The other day, Mr. Henderson from downstairs came to visit, and he called him Daddy, too.” She pressed a freshly peeled orange into my hand. “Here, have some fruit. You must be tired from your trip.” I took it and thanked her politely. Seeing that I wasn’t pressing the issue, Mark visibly relaxed. He came up behind me, ready to give me his usual shoulder rub. I shifted, and his hands met empty air. He froze for a second before forcing a laugh. “This is Melissa, a distant relative. She’s had some trouble back home, so she’s staying with us for a few days…” “A relative?” I offered a segment of the orange to Eleanor. I laughed again, a cold, humorless sound. Mark was the golden boy who had clawed his way out of a poor village. After getting into university, he had cut off all contact with his impoverished relatives. What distant relatives could he possibly have? I voiced the thought aloud. “I don’t remember you having a distant relative named Melissa. Didn’t you cut ties with all your family ages ago?” He faltered, his eyes darting away. “She’s… very distant. From my grandmother’s side.” I nodded thoughtfully. Very distant indeed. My in-laws exchanged a look, their eyes glinting with calculation. Suddenly, Melissa pulled Leo in front of me, her voice trembling on the verge of tears. “Sister-in-law, I know I shouldn’t be bothering you, but I had no other choice. Leo is sick, he needs money, and I could only turn to Mark…” “Turn to him? To borrow money?” I glanced at her. “No, not… I mean, we’ll pay it back.” She was stumbling over her words. Mark couldn’t stand seeing her so submissive and pleading. His jaw tightened. “That’s enough. Who pissed you off today?” I just smiled and stroked Eleanor’s hair. When I had hemorrhaged giving birth to her, Mark had been terrified, his face white as a sheet. He had sworn that for the rest of his life, he would only ever love the two of us. Promises, I thought. Only true in the moment they’re spoken. Mark grabbed Melissa’s arm. “Why don’t you take Leo to the guest room?” “Oh, don’t go,” I said, stopping them. My eyes were fixed on Leo’s wrist. He was wearing a small gold bracelet. It looked exactly like the one I had given Eleanor for her birthday last year. The one that had mysteriously disappeared a few months ago. Now I knew where it had gone. Melissa instinctively pulled down Leo’s sleeve to cover it, a move that screamed guilt. “That bracelet looks just like Eleanor’s. What a coincidence,” I said, my voice sharp with irony. Eleanor burrowed deeper into my side. But Leo suddenly wrenched his arm free from his mother’s grasp and pointed at me. “You’re the bad lady who stole my daddy! This bracelet is mine! Everything in this house is mine! I’m not giving you anything!” “Leo!” Melissa shrieked, trying to cover his mouth again. Beads of sweat had formed on Mark’s forehead. My father-in-law slammed his hand on the table with a loud crack. “Sophia! Stop with the passive-aggressive act! It’s just a bracelet! Why are you being so confrontational? My son has provided for you, given you a life of luxury for years. What more could you possibly want? Don’t we, as his parents, have the right to decide what to do with a single gold bracelet?” 3 I didn’t fight with them that night. I didn’t want to scare my daughter. Mark drove me home. The car was silent. He knew I wasn’t easy to fool. The second the car stopped, he started his explanation, his voice laced with a deliberate, placating tone. “Honey, I didn’t handle things well today. My parents are getting old, don’t take what they said to heart. They’re just soft-hearted, they can’t bear to see a child suffer.” “Mm-hmm,” I replied calmly. My placid reaction seemed to surprise him. He clearly hadn’t expected me to be so composed. But ultimately, he was relieved. In a corner of the car I couldn’t see, he secretly texted Melissa: [Don’t worry, she won’t find out. Leo is my son, I’ll take care of him.] I saw his little maneuver later that night when I reviewed the car’s security footage. So clever. Before she went to sleep, Eleanor told me something. “Mommy, the last few times Daddy took me to Grandma and Grandpa’s, he left with them and Leo and was gone for a long time.” “Is that so?” My heart clenched. “Yes. And Leo… he just transferred to my class. He’s always bullying me.” As she talked, I learned that my daughter was being tormented at school. She said Leo told the other kids that she had stolen his dad, that she was shameless. She had tried to explain, but no one believed her. She had told Mark about it. But Mark had simply told her that Leo was a good boy and wouldn’t bully her. The bullying had made my daughter withdrawn and quiet. I traveled so much for business, I had been home very little these past few months. The time difference when I was abroad made it hard to even talk to her. I hugged my daughter tightly, overwhelmed with guilt. “I’m so sorry, baby. It won’t happen again.” I had thought that by working so hard to give her a head start in life, I was doing what was best for her. But I had completely neglected her emotional well-being. Just then, a message came in from the private investigator. “I found her. Melissa is the woman Mark married in a village ceremony ten years ago…” The more I read, the more my blood ran cold. So I was the other woman? The investigator added one last thing: “I also found that your husband has been making frequent visits to banks and real estate agencies recently. You might want to be careful.” “Okay, thank you for your hard work.” I held my daughter even tighter. In the darkness, my eyes narrowed. I can understand that people change. What I cannot accept is someone daring to plot against me and my daughter. After Eleanor was asleep, I got up and texted my lawyer. “I want to divorce Mark. And I want him to leave with nothing.” Two days later, Eleanor’s school was holding an arts festival. I got her excused for the day and took her to my parents’ house. Mark was visibly relieved. “A little break will do Eleanor good,” he said with a smile. “Oh, by the way, I have something to do later, so I’ll be back late. Don’t wait up for me.” “Okay,” I said, giving him a long, meaningful look. The moment he left, I followed him. As I suspected, he went straight to the school. A wave of hatred washed over me. He had always used the excuse of being too busy to attend any of Eleanor’s school events. But now, for Leo, he had all the time in the world. The auditorium was filled with parents. I put on a mask and found a seat. Before long, I saw Melissa and Leo sitting diagonally from me. She was staring at the stage, where Mark was speaking as a parent representative, her eyes shining with adoration. The principal smiled at Mark. “Mr. Collins, would you mind sharing some of your parenting wisdom with us? Leo has made incredible progress since he transferred here this semester. Could you tell us your secret?” I smirked. Leo’s dad, indeed. Mark smiled and raised the microphone. After a few pleasantries, he looked down at Leo in the audience, his eyes filled with pride. “It’s really not my doing. He’s a smart kid, just a little mischievous. I’m usually busy, but I try to spend as much time with him as I can…” The other parents nodded in approval. But then, a student suddenly shouted, “Whose dad are you, anyway?” 4 The auditorium fell silent. The smile on Mark’s face froze. The little boy, ignoring his parents’ attempts to shush him, stood up. “A few days ago, Eleanor showed me a picture of you and said you were her dad!” Gasps rippled through the crowd. The boy’s parents quickly covered his mouth, laughing nervously and saying he was just a child. The principal tried to smooth things over. “Are Eleanor and Leo siblings?” Mark was about to say yes, when Leo shot to his feet and yelled, “No! I’m not related to that selfish brat! Daddy is mine! She stole my daddy!” The room exploded. “What’s going on? Is Eleanor’s mom the other woman?” “That’s terrible! He’s two-timing them…” I couldn’t imagine how my daughter would feel if she heard this. Thank God she wasn’t here. Mark suddenly beckoned for Melissa and Leo to join him on stage. The three of them stood together, a perfect picture of a happy family. Mark put on a pained expression. “Teachers, parents… I’m ashamed to have to admit this. Sophia, Eleanor’s mother, and I divorced a long time ago. We’ve been living together for our daughter’s sake.” Sitting in the audience, my knuckles turned white. Mark put a protective arm around Melissa. “And Melissa… was my first love.” Their eyes met, sparks flying between them. If I wasn’t one of the parties involved, I might have actually found it romantic. Mark’s voice caught with emotion. “When I went away to college, she stayed behind to take care of my parents. I was always grateful to her. Later, I got the opportunity to study abroad, and we lost touch. I thought she had married someone else. But six months ago, I found out she had waited for me all these years… and that she had given birth to my son.” Melissa just stood there, her head bowed, silent tears streaming down her face. The murmurs in the crowd began to change. “Oh, so that’s the story. They’ve really been through a lot.” “It’s not really Mark’s fault, is it? If he was already divorced from Eleanor’s mom, there’s nothing wrong with getting back together with his first love.” Melissa chose that moment to look up, her eyes red and her voice choked with emotion. “Mark, don’t say any more. If it wasn’t for Leo getting sick, I would never have come to bother you. I’m a woman, I understand. Even though you and Sophia are divorced, she wouldn’t want me around. She must hate me…” She spoke with such noble restraint. Leo, with the uncanny intuition of a child, started shouting at Mark. “Daddy, don’t be with that bad lady anymore! The other day, she was secretly calling Mommy a gold-digging poor relative!” “Leo, stop it,” Melissa said, grabbing his arm. But her half-hearted attempt only made me look worse. Mark was overcome with protective sympathy. He promised them he would never let them be wronged again. I watched the tragic couple on stage, my stomach churning. When Mark was trying to marry me, he had never mentioned a word about Melissa. Now that he was successful, he suddenly remembered he had a long-lost love? A parent whispered, “That Eleanor’s mom always seemed so aggressive. I can’t believe she’d try to control her ex-husband’s life, too. She has no class.” “Yeah, it’s not like he cheated on her. They’re just rekindling an old flame. What business is it of hers?” Just then, I received a text from my lawyer. [It’s all taken care of. Mark’s illegal transfer of assets has been frozen, and the divorce petition has been filed…] I smiled and turned off my phone. Mark was in the middle of a huge project, planning to invest hundreds of millions. With his assets frozen, that project was dead in the water. Let the show begin. Amidst the noise, I took out the miniature megaphone I had prepared. “Since when am I divorced?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384388”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel