Category: English

1 I have a habit. Whenever I dine, watch films or ride taxis, I always leave the seat beside me vacant. I once truly believed Rick would fly into my city and surprise me out of the blue. Yet across our three years apart, he never visited once. I tried wedding gowns and booked the venue entirely alone, worn down to total exhaustion. Trembling, I sent him a message. [I have a 102-degree fever. No medicine at home.] He took thirty minutes to reply. [So what?] [Do you expect me to sprout wings and rush over with pills?] [I’m reviewing a project draft. Just get delivery meds.] My hands shook too hard to grip my phone, and I slipped into blackout. I woke to my best friend Arielle beside my bed, red-eyed as she handed warm water and tablets. “He only neglects you since you’re endlessly forgiving,” she murmured. “I would’ve broken things off ages ago.” Two weeks later, Arielle caught a severe fever too. I planned to hurry over to look after her. Then I spotted her social media post: a shot of a man’s hand gripping a soup spoon. Seasonal flu knocked me flat, but my knight dropped all work and drove five hundred miles overnight with homemade chicken soup. I knew that wrist instantly. The watch I’d spent six months’ wages buying for Rick sat right there. A harsh truth sank in. The spare seat next to me wasn’t empty from his distance. It was empty because he never cared enough to come. There was no sense saving that seat any longer; I’d only been fooling myself. I stood outside Arielle’s apartment door, holding a bag of medicine. The door wasn’t fully closed. Through the gap, I heard Arielle’s nasal, playful laugh. “You drove all night. What about the New York project? Are you really planning to stay in Boston for good?” Rick answered without a second of hesitation. “I don’t care about the project anymore.” “You were here with a fever, and I couldn’t stop worrying. I’ve already applied for a transfer back to the Boston office. No more long-distance.” Arielle’s tone was light. “Well, isn’t Candice going to be thrilled to hear that?” “I only care about making you happy.” My fingernails dug into the plastic handle of the bag, leaving a bloodless, stark white mark on my skin. Three years ago, holding my mother’s critical illness notice, I had tugged at his sleeve and begged him to stay. I asked him if we could avoid the long distance. He had picked up his suitcase and walked out without looking back. “Candice, you know how important this promotion is for me. I’m doing this for our future. Stop being so selfish.” The night he left to pursue his career, my mother passed away. I spent the night alone, shaking and crying in the dark. Over the past three years, I had suggested ending the long distance countless times. I had even offered to give up my career in Boston just to move to New York for him. But he rejected me every single time. “The cost of living in New York is too high. You coming here would only slow me down.” “Grow up, Candice. Stop using your emotions to hijack my career.” Yet that very career and future became entirely worthless the moment Arielle caught a cold. I took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Rick was sitting by the bed, holding a bowl of soup. When he saw me, his forehead creased instantly. “What are you doing here?” I placed the plastic bag of medicine on the nightstand. “I came to check on Arielle. And, apparently, to see the knight who flew five hundred miles.” Arielle quickly waved her hands in panic. “Candice, please don’t blame Rick. I was burning up last night and just complained to him offhand.” “I didn’t expect him to actually drop his work and run back. If you’re upset, I’ll tell him to leave right now.” Rick’s face darkened. “You’re this sick. Why would I leave?” He set the bowl down, looking entirely shameless. “Candice, drop the attitude.” “Arielle is your best friend. She has a 102-degree fever. Do you expect me to just sit back and watch her rot in here?” I looked at the bowl of chicken soup. The herbs, the shredded chicken, the perfect golden broth. It was a recipe I had spent weeks perfecting, writing down step-by-step instructions to teach him. Because he used to complain that the food in New York didn’t suit his taste. He was using the exact method I taught him to care for another woman. “I had a 102-degree fever two weeks ago,” I said quietly. “You told me to order delivery.” Rick paused, a flicker of hesitation crossing his eyes. “But you got through it on your own, didn’t you?” “Arielle is different from you. She isn’t as independent. Are you seriously throwing a tantrum over your own best friend?” Suddenly, the memory of myself begging him for help seemed incredibly pathetic. I let out a soft, self-mocking laugh. Seeing me laugh, his expression relaxed, replaced by a patronizing sigh of relief. “Good, you’re smiling. Let’s drop this, and don’t bring it up again.” “I’ve already applied to transfer back to Boston, so we won’t be apart anymore. You got what you wanted. Arielle just said she wants some cupcakes from that bakery on West Street. Go grab some.” I turned and walked out. My phone buzzed in my pocket. “Hi Ms. Candice, the wedding dress you liked has arrived. When would you like to come in for a fitting?” “No need. Please cancel it.” I used to think a long-distance relationship was just a long queue. As long as I kept the seat on my right open and waited, he would eventually sit down. Now I knew that the five-hour train ride was never the issue. He was never unable to return; he had simply changed his destination long ago. There was no point in waiting anymore. I didn’t buy the cupcakes. I went straight back to my apartment and started packing. I threw the extra toothbrush, the dark gray towel, and the matching mug from the bathroom sink straight into the trash. No matter where I lived, I had always kept a double set of everything. I had foolishly believed he would suddenly show up in Boston to surprise me. So I stubbornly kept half of my life empty for him. Now he was back, but the surprise wasn’t for me. Rick didn’t come home that night. Arielle posted another update. The best part of being sick is having someone stay up to watch a 2 AM movie with you. The attached photo showed the projector screen and the soft, gentle profile of a man’s face. It was the movie I had wanted to see for months. I had begged Rick to watch it with me, but he always dismissed it as boring. I liked her post. Three minutes later, a text from Rick popped up. [Get dressed and come downstairs. It’s Grandma’s 80th birthday today. I’m picking you up on the way to the family estate.] According to our original plan, today was also the day we were supposed to formally announce our engagement to his family. When I walked down, Arielle was already sitting in the passenger seat. She was holding a steaming latte, her other hand casually playing with a spare key to Rick’s apartment. The keychain had a hand-woven lucky knot I had made for him. Now, it was stained with coffee. She turned to me with a sweet smile. “Candice, you don’t mind me catching a ride, do you?” Rick turned up a French song Arielle liked on the radio. “Arielle just recovered. I didn’t feel safe leaving her alone, so I brought her along to get some fresh air at the estate.” “Besides, she’s still weak.” “You sit in the back.” Half an hour later, we arrived at the family estate. Arielle couldn’t wait to unbuckle her seatbelt. “Oh, I can smell the food already!” She naturally walked up to Rick’s side, and the two walked in shoulder-to-shoulder. I followed behind them like an insignificant shadow. In the main hall, his grandmother sat on the antique armchair. “Rick, bring your girl over. Let me get a look at her.” Arielle stepped forward gracefully. “Grandma, I wish you a very happy birthday.” The old lady smiled, patting Arielle’s hand. “This is the lovely girl you brought home last New Year’s Eve, right?” “So pretty. No wonder you’re always thinking about her.” A few relatives who actually knew me exchanged uneasy glances, their eyes shifting toward me. I picked up a cup of tea and took a slow sip of the warm water. Last New Year’s Eve, I had sat alone in Boston with a table of cold food. Rick had told me over the phone that a major crisis had hit his project, and his entire team was pulling an all-nighter at the office. As it turned out, his all-nighter was spent bringing Arielle home to meet his family. The old lady slid a stunning, deep green heirloom emerald bracelet off her wrist and placed it directly onto Arielle’s. “This has been passed down to the wife of the eldest grandson. I’m giving it to you today.” “Rick… I couldn’t possibly. Grandma has mistaken me for someone else.” Arielle made a show of protesting, but she made no move to take the bracelet off. Rick leaned down, whispering in my ear. “Candice, let Arielle keep it on for now. I’ll have her give it back to you after the party.” “Be sensible. Don’t throw a tantrum today of all days.” I shook my head. “No need to give it back.” Rick stared, a hint of approval flashing in his eyes. “It’s good that you can be so understanding. It actually looks quite nice on her anyway. I’ll buy you a new one some other day.” I set down my teacup. The aroma of the Earl Grey tea was rich. It was Arielle’s favorite blend, and even Rick’s grandmother had remembered her preference. The home I was supposedly entering for the first time was a place Arielle had already visited countless times. “Since the bracelet is already on her wrist, she should keep it.” “Rick, we’re done. Let’s break up.” The smile wiped off Rick’s face instantly. “Over a bracelet? Candice, when did you become so incredibly petty?” “Yes, over a bracelet.” Arielle frantically tried to pull the bracelet off. “Candice, please don’t be mad. I’m taking it off right now. You two have been together for nine years. You can’t let it ruin everything because of me.” In her haste, her wrist turned bright red, and tears welled up in her eyes. Rick grabbed her hand to stop her. “Why are you taking it off? You didn’t do anything wrong.” “Arielle isn’t fully recovered yet, and you’re forcing her to humiliate herself in public?” I couldn’t stand being there for another second. I turned and walked out. Behind me, whispers drifted from the dining hall. “She has a terrible temper.” “Exactly. Men have their harmless fun. She should learn to turn a blind eye.” Arielle spoke up softly. “Rick, go after her. Candice is just angry. Make sure she’s okay.” Rick sneered. “We’ve been together for nine years. She’s a thirty-year-old woman. Who else would even want her?” He raised his voice so it would carry out the door. “If someone wants to play hard to get, then we might just have to push the wedding date back a bit further.” Later, the wedding boutique owner sent me a picture of the main dress to confirm. “Ms. Candice, the deposit is non-refundable. You came in so many times for this. Are you sure you want to cancel?” I stared at the screen for a long time. I had tried on seventeen different dresses in that shop all by myself. Every picture I sent to Rick was met with a cold, detached reply: Busy. You decide. I finally realized that one person’s hope can never sustain a future meant for two. “Cancel it.” The next morning, I went to the office and found a transfer notice sitting on my desk. Due to poor recent performance, Candice is hereby reassigned to the administrative support team. Right after that, a company-wide announcement went out: Arielle was being promoted to Project Manager. The proposal attached to her promotion was the very project I had spent seven sleepless nights writing and revising fifteen times. The author’s name had been changed to Arielle. At the bottom of the document, the approver’s signature read: Rick. I dialed Rick’s number. “Saw the notice? I was just about to call you.” “Rick, why is my proposal under Arielle’s name?” He let out a dry laugh. “You embarrassed Arielle in front of my family yesterday. She went home and cried the entire night.” “Giving her this project is a way to comfort her, and a small lesson for you.” Arielle’s weak voice came through the receiver. “Candice, if you’re upset, I can give the position back to you.” Rick cut her off. “Don’t give back anything. She brought this on herself.” “Candice, if you behave and apologize to Arielle, the wedding is still on.” “I’ll make sure you get the next promotion.” The sheer absurdity of it washed over me. He was using my hard work to keep another woman happy. I said, “Fine.” After hanging up, I submitted my resignation and clicked confirm on the international offer I had received weeks ago. Right after I bought my plane ticket, my phone vibrated. An alert from my bank popped up: One million dollars debited. My breath caught. That was the inheritance my mother had left me, set aside for my dowry. Only Rick and I knew the password to that account. I called the bank customer service and tracked the recipient. I rushed to the luxury condo he had recently purchased. Rick and Arielle were sitting on the leather sofa, flipping through interior design catalogs. “Rick, I love the floor-to-ceiling windows in the master bedroom. The morning light must be gorgeous.” Rick smiled warmly. “If you like it, we’ll knock down the wall between the master bedroom and the guest room to make it bigger for you.” On the coffee table lay the newly signed purchase agreement. The name under the owner’s section read: Arielle. My chest heaved. “You took the money my mother left me?” He looked up, annoyance written all over his face. “We’re getting married anyway. The money was just sitting in the account. Might as well put it to good use.” “Then why is her name on the deed?” “Arielle grew up relying on charity. She’s always wanted a place to call home. She was worried she wouldn’t have a place here once we got married.” “Putting her name on the deed makes her feel secure.” A loud buzzing sound echoed in my head, and the final thread of my patience snapped. Arielle grew up on charity? Her parents died in a car crash when we were kids. I had begged my parents to take her in. My parents had treated her like their own daughter for twenty years, providing for her food, her clothes, her education. And now, in Rick’s mouth, it was “relying on charity.” Arielle grabbed my arm, her expression innocent. “Candice, if it really bothers you, I can move out anytime.” “But please believe me, Rick loves you. He even reserved the quietest bedroom on the north side just for you.” I violently yanked my arm back. “Don’t touch me!” “Give me back my money!” Arielle lost her balance and fell to the floor with a sharp cry. Rick’s face twisted in rage. He lunged forward and shoved me hard. I crashed against the doorframe, a dull, agonizing pain radiating through my shoulder. “Candice, you’re out of your mind! It’s just a house! Was it really necessary to get physical? I must have been blind to ever think about marrying a toxic woman like you!” Without looking back, he scooped Arielle into his arms and rushed out the door toward the hospital. I leaned against the doorframe to steady myself, then dialed my lawyer’s number. After handing the entire matter over to the firm, I hailed a cab and headed straight to the airport. The afternoon sun pierced through the airplane window, casting a warm light over my face.

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To save the girl he had been mentoring, the man I loved handed me over to my worst enemy. “If you just spend one night with Sebastian, Ruby will be saved.” Everyone in New York knew Sebastian hated my guts. During the years I was studying abroad, he turned the entire city upside down just to find me. Yet Hugo still pushed me directly into his territory. “Is your dignity really more important than her life?” Inside the dark, sprawling mansion. Sebastian lit a cigarette, the ember glowing faintly in the pitch black room. “You finally came back to me.” But. Who was the hunter, and who was the prey. Who could really tell. 1 Hugo was the boy I grew up with. After my mother passed away, Hugo was the one who paid for my tuition abroad. He pulled me out of my darkest depression and walked beside me every step of the way until we reached where we are today. We founded a company together. We fought for our careers together. He was the only light in my life, and falling in love with him felt like the most natural thing in the world. Even though we never had an official proposal or a public announcement, everyone in our circle knew we were together. He promised me that the second our company went public, he would put a ring on my finger. He would tell the whole world that I was the love of his life. He used to hold my hands and make promises to me. “Shelly, we are the closest people in the world to each other.” “We can never abandon each other.” But in the end, he was the first one to let go. It was almost laughable. When I found out Ruby had made a catastrophic mistake at work, my first instinct was to find Hugo. I wanted to discuss how we could minimize the fallout for the company and figure out a way to give Ruby a second chance. Instead, I stood frozen outside his office door, listening to him use his softest, most gentle tone to comfort her. “This is not your fault.” “You just graduated. Shelly should never have dumped so much responsibility on you. At the end of the day, this is her management error.” “Don’t be scared. No matter how angry she gets, I will protect you.” A massive wave of agony hit me like a sledgehammer. In that split second, my entire reality shattered. I shoved the door open and stared at the two of them standing intimately close together. “Hugo, what the hell is this?” 2 Ruby, whose face was stained with beautiful, delicate tears, had been leaning against Hugo’s chest. My sudden entrance made her tremble like a frightened bird. Hugo instinctively reached out to soothe her, gently rubbing her shoulder. The sight of his hand on her burned my eyes. I fought desperately to hold back my tears, but my vision still blurred. Ruby was a junior from my high school. Ever since she joined our university, she had followed me around like a shadow, always calling me her beloved senior. Back then, people used to whisper that I was just a brainless, arrogant rich kid who only knew how to throw tantrums and spend money. Ruby was the only one who stood up and defended me. She came from a completely average family but worked incredibly hard. Remembering our old friendship, I hired her the second she graduated. To help her build her career quickly, I personally guided her through several of our biggest accounts. Hugo used to joke about it. “Your little protege is a shark. Even our most difficult clients absolutely adore her.” At the time, I thought Hugo was just being a little cynical. If the clients loved her, it just meant her professional skills were solid. I never expected her to be so skilled that she would make Hugo fall for her too. But this time, the ever clever Ruby had leaked highly classified company documents, completely enraging our biggest investor. I forced my emotions down. I forced myself to look away from the sickening pity on Hugo’s face. “Ruby, leaking a project proposal is a massive breach. The fallout is severe.” “We are all adults here. You cannot run away from the consequences of your actions.” “I will go with you to apologize to the investors.” Ruby stood up nervously. She looked at Hugo, then looked at me. “Shelly… the representative from Apex Capital said they will only speak to you…” Apex Capital had invested in our startup two years ago. Back then, we were just getting off the ground. Every single investment firm in the city laughed us out of their offices. To our absolute shock, the biggest venture capital firm in the country reached out to us directly, injecting a massive amount of funding into our accounts. Because of that money, our company skyrocketed in just two years. But I could not fathom how Hugo could possibly believe that Ruby’s catastrophic failure should fall on my shoulders. I stared at his face, suddenly realizing how incredibly foreign this man looked to me. Was he always this shameless? “Take the fall for me? Do you think I own this company by myself?” Hugo remained completely indifferent to my anger. “You were the one who secured the Apex investment. It is naturally your responsibility to handle them.” Ruby dropped to her knees right in front of me, shaking violently, looking up at me like a pathetic, abandoned puppy. Her eyes were filled with tears. “Shelly, I swear I didn’t mean to do it. Please, just save me this one time…” Hugo grabbed her arm and pulled her roughly to her feet, glaring at me with pure frustration. “Shelly! Ruby offended the investors while working on your project! You should be the one going there to beg for forgiveness!” “You are the one who should be on your knees.” “Do you really not know? The man behind Apex Capital is Sebastian. He specifically demanded that you go see him.” Hugo’s words hit me so hard the room began to spin. Sebastian? The sole heir to the most powerful family in New York. The untouchable prince of the city. But Hugo wasn’t finished. He had something far more cruel waiting for me. “Sebastian said that if you just spend one night with him, he will let the company off the hook.” The last thread of my sanity snapped. It felt like my heart had been ripped in half and thrown bleeding onto the floor. “Hugo, what exactly am I to you?” Hugo furrowed his brows, looking at me like I was an unreasonable child throwing a tantrum. “It is literally just one night.” Did he really not understand what one night meant? No. He was just playing stupid because he was a coward trying to escape reality. When I didn’t speak, Hugo finally lost his temper. “Is your pride really worth more than Ruby’s entire future?” “If you don’t fix this, Ruby will be blacklisted. She will never be able to work in this city again!” I was entirely sick of his voice. I grabbed the door handle and dropped my words like ice. “Then you can both go straight to hell.” 3 I severely underestimated how utterly disgusting Ruby could be. When I refused to go see Sebastian, she resorted to playing dirty. When I finally opened my eyes, I was lying on a plush sofa in a completely unfamiliar mansion. My head was splitting open. My entire body felt weak and numb. The last memory I had was Ruby’s twisted face and the ropes in her hands. I pushed myself up from the leather cushions, clutching my pounding head, looking completely disheveled. The sound of a heavy door unlocking echoed through the room. A shadow I had not seen in years stepped into the entryway. Sebastian walked in wearing a dark tailored suit. He brought the cold night air in with him. He barely even glanced in my direction. He shrugged off his heavy wool trench coat and handed it to a man standing behind him. The man took the coat and immediately melted back into the shadows of the hallway, vanishing completely. Highly trained. Sebastian slowly unbuckled his luxury watch. The rolled up sleeves of his dress shirt revealed faint, intricate tattoos wrapping around his forearms. I couldn’t make out the design. As soon as he noticed me staring, he casually rolled his sleeves down, hiding the ink. He looked entirely uninterested in acknowledging my existence. The mansion fell into a suffocating, dead silence. I knew exactly how pathetic I looked right now. Sweat was dripping down my neck. My hair was a tangled mess. The collar of my silk blouse had been violently ripped open. I had no idea how Ruby managed to get me delivered here. I knew Sebastian hated me. After all, I was the reason his life fell apart back then. When I fled New York, Sebastian put a terrifying bounty on my head. He told the underground that whoever found me could name their price. His hatred for me was probably far deeper and far more toxic than I could ever imagine. But right now, if I wanted to survive. I had to play nice. An unnatural, scorching heat began rolling through my veins, wave after wave, melting my rational thoughts away. It only took a second for me to realize exactly what Ruby had done to me. She was utterly ruthless. I dug my nails fiercely into my own thigh, using the sharp pain to force myself awake. I stood up from the sofa and walked slowly toward Sebastian. The man actually froze. His thin lips pressed into a hard line before his emotionless voice finally broke the silence. “What are you doing…” Before he could finish his sentence, I shut him up. I stood on my toes and pressed my lips directly against the corner of his mouth. His scent completely enveloped me. There was no alcohol on his breath. He smelled incredible, far better than I remembered. I could see his Adam’s apple bob slightly, but he did not speak. “Isn’t this exactly what you wanted…” My hot breath brushed against his skin. It seemed to burn right through his dark eyes, igniting a dangerous, heavy lust. I thought he would pull me into his arms, but instead, he let out a dark, mocking laugh. “Shelly, what gives you the confidence to think I would ever take you back?” The drug was turning my brain to absolute mush. Like a person dying of thirst in the desert, I completely abandoned my pride, desperately seeking anything cool to the touch. I pressed my burning cheek against his jaw. “I promise I’ll be a good girl this time, Oliver…” That name triggered something violent inside him. His freezing fingers suddenly grabbed my jaw in a bruising grip. “You really have a death wish, don’t you.” My arms draped weakly over his broad shoulders. My eyes were completely glazed over. “If you really don’t want me, then push me away.” Those words worked like magic. A second later, he crashed his lips into mine, devouring me completely. 4 I had no idea how much time passed. My consciousness had completely fractured. I could not tell if I was living in the real world or trapped in a fever dream. My body felt like it was sinking into a bed of warm, heavy feathers. I felt entirely weightless. Somewhere in the background, a phone began to ring, only to be instantly silenced by a heavy hand. “She is with me.” “Let them deal with the fallout themselves.” “Keep the company intact. I still have a use for it.” The mattress dipped beside me. A scorching heat enveloped my body. A soft touch pressed against my forehead, sounding somewhere between a sigh and a desperate whisper. “You finally came back to me.” 5 I couldn’t stop dreaming. My head was incredibly heavy as I plummeted into an endless, bottomless nightmare. I saw myself sitting in my childhood living room. My mother was telling me that she and my father had gone to an orphanage and adopted an older brother for me. Standing right behind her was a twelve year old boy. Back then, he was introduced to me as Oliver. Silent and cold. That was my very first impression of him. Rumor had it he was found wandering the streets. He had lost all of his memories. He didn’t know his real name, and he had no idea where his home was. After spending six months in the orphanage, my mother brought him home. I had been a sickly child since the day I was born. When I turned ten, some spiritual advisor told my parents that they needed to adopt a perfectly healthy child to absorb my bad luck and keep me safe. And just like that, there was a stranger living in my house. My mother told me my new brother would play with me and keep me company. But I absolutely despised him. I hated how smart he was. I hated how perfect he was. I hated how mature he acted. And most of all, I hated how he completely ignored me every time I tried to bully him. “Shelly, you need to play nice with your brother.” My mother said those exact words to me constantly. “No! Now that he’s here, you guys are going to stop loving me!” I screamed at her and locked myself in my bedroom. But secretly, I sat on my bed waiting for them to come upstairs and comfort me. It was the only way I could prove they still loved me. I needed them to indulge my tantrums. At first, my parents would come upstairs and coax me out. But as time went on, they realized I was just insecure and completely unwilling to accept Oliver. So eventually, the person sent to comfort me changed. My parents thought sending Oliver to my room would help us bond. They had no idea that every time Oliver walked into my bedroom, he would simply sit in the corner chair and read a book. He completely ignored my existence. He wasn’t afraid of me complaining to my parents at all. I only dared to throw tantrums at my parents because I knew they cared about me. But when I was trapped in a room alone with Oliver, I couldn’t even raise my voice. He carried a natural, suffocating aura of authority that terrified me. But when I was sixteen, after another massive fight with my mother, I ran to my room and finally snapped. His invasion of my personal space had become entirely too aggressive. “Hey! What gives you the right to just sit in my room?! Get out!” I screamed at him, my face still wet with angry tears. Oliver slowly lifted his eyes from his book. He gave me a cold, dead stare. He closed the book and walked directly toward me. His overwhelming presence made me instantly regret my outburst. I cowardly shrank back against my pillows. He leaned down over my bed, resting his hands on his knees, bringing his face dangerously close to mine. His cool breath brushed across my skin. His freezing finger reached out and tapped a teardrop resting on my cheek. “Dirty little kitten.” 6 When I woke up, I was completely alone in the massive bed. The balcony doors were cracked open. The sea breeze caught the sheer curtains, revealing a tall silhouette standing outside. I could hear fragments of a low, aggressive conversation. He was on the phone. “You all know damn well I am the one running this family now.” “No one on this earth can stop me from getting what I want.” “If you can’t even handle a mess this simple, you have absolutely no reason to stay in my company.” The dark, menacing voice suddenly stopped. The man on the balcony had noticed me trying to silently sneak out of the bedroom. Sebastian hung up the phone instantly and walked toward me. I backed away in panic, but he cornered me against the wall. His eyes dragged slowly down my body. A dark possessiveness flashed in his gaze. He grabbed my wrist violently and yanked me flush against his chest. “Where do you think you’re going?” “Are you trying to abandon me again?” “Shelly, do you honestly believe I will ever let you walk away from me again?” Faced with his sudden, erratic explosion of emotion, I tried desperately to break his grip, feeling entirely helpless. “You have to at least let me go wash my face!” Sebastian’s brow furrowed even deeper. His deep, intense eyes locked onto my face, as if he was trying to dissect my soul to see if I was lying to him again. After all, the old me used to lie to him constantly. And back then, he swallowed every single lie willingly, completely blinded by his obsession with me. I was currently wearing a men’s bathrobe I had found on the floor. It hung loosely off my shoulders, doing absolutely nothing to hide the violent red marks covering my collarbones. Under his aggressive, predatory stare, my face burned bright red. He finally let go of my wrist. “Do not even think about playing games with me.” He dropped the warning like a heavy stone and shoved me toward the master bathroom. “Wash up and come downstairs. Breakfast is ready.” 7 The massive, sunlit dining room was entirely silent, save for the faint clinking of silverware against porcelain. I kept my head down, focusing entirely on the food on my plate. I didn’t even need to look up to feel Sebastian’s burning, obsessive stare drilling into the side of my head. The exact second I finished a piece of food, he would smoothly and accurately place another piece of whatever I was craving directly onto my plate. It was like he could read my mind. “I’m full.” As soon as the words left my mouth, Sebastian picked up a linen napkin and naturally reached over to wipe the corner of my mouth. I turned my head sharply, dodging his hand. “I can do it myself.” But when I reached for the napkin, the man refused to let go. A freezing smile locked onto his lips. His eyes cut into me like blades, carrying a faint, terrifying undercurrent of hatred. “Weren’t you crying in my bed last night, promising you would be a good girl for me…” My face instantly caught fire again. After a few years apart, his mouth had become absolutely toxic. He always knew exactly how to humiliate me. Seeing that I had no response, Sebastian’s long, elegant fingers pressed the napkin firmly against the corner of my lips. The scorching heat of his palm bled through the fabric, burning my skin. “If you actually behave, I might consider going easy on that pathetic boyfriend of yours.” The whispered threat brushed against my ear like a lover’s sweet confession. Dark, sticky, and completely suffocating. But we were not lovers. And we could never be lovers. 8 When I was sixteen, I was brilliant, beautiful, and the center of attention. I was a little princess worshipped by everyone around me. My parents spoiled me rotten. The entire world revolved around me. They never raised their voices at me, let alone yelled at me. But one day, my elegant, rational mother turned into a complete stranger. She stormed into my bedroom, grabbed my backpack, and violently dumped everything onto the floor. Textbooks, pens, and a few light envelopes scattered across the carpet. She snatched up the envelopes. I had absolutely no idea when they were slipped into my bag. Her face twisted into a mask of pure rage as she screamed at me. “You are a child! Why are you entertaining love letters?! Why can’t you be mature and responsible like Oliver?! You spend two hours in the mirror every morning trying to seduce boys! If I ever catch you acting like a cheap tramp again, I will throw you out of this house!” Slam. My bedroom door was violently shut. The wind from the door hit my face like a physical slap. Tears instantly spilled from my eyes. A terrifying, indescribable sense of terror and injustice crushed my chest. I could not understand why my mother had suddenly turned into a monster. I cried alone in my room until the sun completely set. Normally, my mother would have knocked on my door hours ago, using her softest voice to coax me down for dinner. But that night, she never came. Instead, Oliver walked into my room carrying a dinner tray. “Go wash your face, then eat your food.” His tone was completely flat and calm. He acted as if I wasn’t sitting on my bed sobbing hysterically. He acted as if I was just quietly doing my homework. “Get out!” I screamed at him with zero hesitation. Crying for hours had completely ruined my voice. It sounded like sandpaper. The boy walked over to my desk, picked up a glass pitcher, poured a cup of warm water, and held it out to me. “Drink this. It will soothe your throat. Otherwise, you won’t be able to speak tomorrow.” Crash. I slapped the glass out of his hand. It shattered into a hundred pieces across the hardwood floor. “I don’t need your fake pity!” I glared at him with absolute venom. Ever since he moved into our house, my perfect, happy family had been slowly falling apart. “You’re the one who told on me, aren’t you?!” Who else could it be? We went to the same high school. Even though we were in different classes, he always knew exactly what I was doing, exactly who I was talking to. Sometimes I genuinely wondered if he had planted a tracking device on my clothes. “You need to focus entirely on your studies right now.” He neither confirmed nor denied my accusation. He just sat on the edge of my bed, looking down at me from above. The room was lit only by a dim floor lamp. The weak light traced the outline of his tall, lean, athletic body. He wasn’t just a genius. He was a machine. He kept the highest grades in the entire school while simultaneously breaking the scoring records for the varsity team. Compared to him, my intelligence was honestly a joke. But so what! I was the only biological daughter of this family! That alone meant I had already won! I pushed myself up on the bed, glaring at him with swollen red eyes. “Don’t get cocky! My mom only yelled at me tonight because she’s stressed! I am their only real child!” “I have never, ever considered you my brother!” Faced with my vicious insults and fury, Oliver remained just as cold and apathetic as always. “Good.” His pale eyelids lifted. His amber eyes locked onto mine, filled with an endless, dangerous darkness. “I don’t want to be your brother either.” 9 Oliver and I had a massive falling out that night. Even though I never saw him as family, hearing him actually say it out loud infuriated me. What an ungrateful bastard! My family gave him everything. I had the right to reject him, but he was obligated to be grateful to us! What gave him the right to reject me?! That was how completely unreasonable and arrogant I was at sixteen. I wanted to find a chance to tell my mother what he said, hoping she would stop caring about him so much and spend more time with me. But after that night, my mother became incredibly busy. I barely ever saw her at the house. And she grew colder and colder toward me. When I tried to act cute and seek her attention, she no longer looked at me with that gentle, loving gaze. She didn’t hug me or pinch my cheeks to make me laugh. Instead, she looked at me with pure exhaustion and impatience. “Shelly, you are almost seventeen years old. Start acting like it.” “Look at Oliver. He is the exact same age as you, but he is incredibly mature and reliable.” Not only that, her blatant favoritism toward Oliver became impossible to ignore. She was constantly checking on his health. The private chefs were ordered to cook strictly according to Oliver’s dietary preferences. Whenever the luxury brands sent their seasonal catalogs to the house, Oliver was given the books first to pick out whatever he wanted. Even our family vacations were planned entirely around what Oliver enjoyed doing. During parent teacher conferences, my mother would go to Oliver’s classroom first, and then eventually make her way to mine. “Well, he is a boy. Boys are just more reliable. Unlike Shelly. She is almost seventeen and all she cares about is partying and wasting time.” I stood holding my notebooks outside the teacher’s office, listening to my own mother say those exact words to Oliver’s homeroom teacher. He is a boy. So my mother believed that because I wasn’t a boy, I was completely useless compared to him? I squeezed the notebooks in my hands so hard the sharp cardboard edges cut into my palms, leaving deep red lines. I absolutely refused to lose to Oliver. I refused to let him steal the love that belonged exclusively to me.

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1 My older brother, Simon, was born with selective mutism and severe autism. To cure him, our mother tried every desperate measure imaginable. When I was a year old, I accidentally rolled off the bed and started crying hysterically. Miraculously, Simon spoke his very first words. “Sister… fell. It hurts.” “Mom, make it better for sister.” But the moment I stopped crying, Simon sank back into complete silence. My mother looked at me, and her eyes filled with a sudden, terrifying hope. From that day on, I became Simon’s speaking doll. The longer my mother made me cry, the more words Simon would speak. Over the years, I learned to perform on cue. Whenever Simon had a recitation competition, I would force myself to cry bitterly for exactly thirty minutes. Not a second more, not a second less. But there were times when the tears wouldn’t come. During those times, Mother would resort to any physical pain to coax them out. The longest I ever cried was when I fell down the stairs and broke my arm. Simon practiced his speech all night, and the next day, he won first place. To celebrate, Mother bought me a massive chocolate cake. Everything changed on the day Simon was scheduled to meet his wealthy biological father. Simon froze, unable to squeeze out a single word, and his father left in deep disappointment. Mother snapped. She screamed hysterically, shaking Simon by the shoulders. “If you don’t speak, your father will never come back! Without him, there’s no point in me living!” “I am going to cure you once and for all today!” She grabbed my arm and dragged me up to the rooftop of our apartment building. She tied a rope around my waist and suspended me over the edge, hundreds of feet above the cold concrete pavement. I could see the old rope fraying, thread by thread. But this time, I didn’t cry. I looked up at Simon and gave him a bright, beautiful smile. Because Simon had once whispered to me that he loved seeing me smile. Suspended in the empty air, the wind lashed against my face, making my body swing violently. The knots around my waist bit deep into my skin, burning like fire. I kept my eyes fixed upward, refusing to look down. Simon’s face was deathly pale, his eyes wide with terror as he stared at the fraying rope. He was shaking so hard he could barely stand. He didn’t dare raise his voice to provoke our mother, so he just desperately pulled at her sleeve, pointing at the rope, begging her to pull me back up. But Mother refused to listen. She wept, screaming at him. “Simon, I don’t want to hurt you!” “But if you hadn’t stood there like a mute in front of your father, would I have to do this?” “Your sister is suffering today because you are useless!” Simon flinched, looking at me with absolute despair. I looked down at the frayed threads near my waist, then back up at my brother, mouthing silently: Don’t worry, Simon. I had realized long ago that in this family, my tears were a commodity. My mother would pinch my thighs to make me cry before Simon’s doctor appointments. She would find ways to hurt and humiliate me before his school events. The harder I cried, the more Simon spoke, and the happier Mother became. The time I broke my arm, I spent the entire night shivering in pain. But Simon had stayed by my hospital bed, clumsily practicing his words over and over. When he won his trophy the next day, Mother was ecstatic, buying me that giant cake. Back then, I was foolish enough to believe that my pain could buy a little bit of sweetness. But Simon was different from our mother. Mother only cared about the results of her sick experiments. Simon, however, carried an immense burden of guilt every time I was hurt. He would secretly hide candies in my pockets, whisper “don’t cry, sissy” in my ear, and sit by my bed when the pain kept me awake at night. I could never hate him. The wind grew stronger, and I felt my body drop another fraction of an inch as the rope groaned against the concrete ledge. A broken, strangled sound finally tore from Simon’s throat. “Stop… stop… save sissy…” Hearing him speak, Mother’s face lit up with a manic joy. “Keep going! Say more!” She didn’t notice that the moldy hemp rope was unraveling at its thinnest point. Another gust of wind caught me, swinging my body outward. The sudden pressure against my ribs was so agonizing that I nearly let out a scream. Seeing this, Simon lunged forward, his knees slamming hard against the gravel on the roof. Ignoring the pain, he grabbed the rope near Mother’s hands. “Save sissy…” “Mom, please…” But Mother, completely consumed by her delusion, shoved him away. “Now you’re scared?” “Why didn’t you speak yesterday? Your father looked at you like you were defective! If you don’t speak, he is never coming back!” “Without him, I have nothing!” Below us, a crowd was gathering on the street. People were pointing, shouting, and recording with their phones. But Mother was oblivious to the chaos. Like a desperate gambler who had finally hit a winning streak, she grabbed her phone, hit record, and shoved it in Simon’s face, forcing him to keep talking. “Speak! Tell me you’ll speak to your father next time!” She didn’t care that her daughter was hanging by a thread over an abyss. She only cared about the audio file. Simon was on the verge of collapse. Looking at me, his voice trembled violently, but he didn’t dare stop, terrified that if he fell silent, she would let go of the rope. “Sissy, don’t be scared…” “Mom, save… sissy.” I stared up at him, my throat tight. I knew he wasn’t choosing to be silent. He was sick. But Mother refused to accept his diagnosis, preferring to use my life as his medicine. As the minutes dragged on, Simon’s voice grew raspy, every word sounding as if it were tearing his throat apart. “Dad, Dad…” But Mother wanted more. She wanted him to sound natural, to sound like a normal child. “Keep going!” “Say you want your father to come home!” Her voice was shrill, cutting through the wind. Simon’s face was flushed, tears streaming down his cheeks as he struggled to force the words out. “Dad… come back…” “I will… be good…” “I will… speak…” His entire body was convulsing with the effort. Yet, the only thing in Mother’s eyes was an increasingly manic excitement, as if she were looking at a machine she had finally fixed. Suddenly, Simon went quiet. His eyes locked onto the rope near the ledge, and his face turned translucent with horror. He saw it. The rope was down to its final threads. Simon screamed and lunged for the rope to pull me up, but Mother, assuming he was trying to back out, yanked the line backward, shrieking at him. “Just a little more!” “Once we get through today, you’ll be cured! We’ll be a family again!” Frantic, Simon struggled to wrest the rope from her grip. Mother lost her footing, stumbling backward, and the rope slipped through her fingers. My body dropped several feet in a sudden, violent plunge. My heart stopped, and a terrified scream escaped my lips. That scream finally broke the tension below. The onlookers panicked, and sirens began to wail in the distance. Hanging there, I felt a deep, hollow exhaustion. It wasn’t a physical fatigue. It was a weariness that went down to my bones. I had lived a short life, but I had never lived a single day for myself. My tears belonged to Simon’s progress; my pain was the proof of Mother’s methods. My entire existence was defined by how much of myself I could sacrifice. But Simon was the only one who hated seeing me cry. The clearest, most deliberate sentence he had ever spoken to me was that he loved my smile. Thinking of that, I decided I didn’t want to cry anymore. Suddenly, the heavy metal door to the rooftop was kicked open. My father had finally arrived. The moment he saw me dangling over the edge, he froze, his face turning entirely pale. He sprinted to the ledge, his hands gripping the rope alongside Simon, the veins in his arms bulging with exertion. Seeing the state of the rope and my bloodless face, he knew I didn’t have minutes left. He turned and roared at my mother, “Are you out of your mind!” But Mother was completely detached from reality. She laughed, her shoulders shaking with excitement. “Just a little more, Charles!” “Simon is speaking! He’s almost cured!” “We can get back together now! We can have our family back!” Charles evaluated the situation quickly. He knew he couldn’t reason with her. Although sirens were approaching, the rescue teams wouldn’t make it to the roof in time, and the rope was seconds away from snapping. He had to play into her delusion. He clenched his teeth, forcing his voice to soften. “Let Tessa up first, Eleanor.” “Pull our daughter up, and I promise I’ll sign the remarriage papers. I’ll do whatever you want.” “You wanted to prove to Valerie that you didn’t lose, right? We can do that. Just pull her up.” Eleanor froze. In her twisted mind, she had just won everything. Her son was speaking, and her husband was returning to her. Weeping with joy, she let go of her end of the rope and ran to tie the remaining slack to a heavy concrete pillar on the roof, believing it would secure me. She didn’t realize that the fibers of the rope were already severed at the ledge. Eager to secure her victory, she demanded they go to City Hall immediately. She didn’t trust verbal promises; she wanted the paper. To prevent Charles and Simon from pulling me up without her, she dragged them toward the exit. “The rope is tied to the pillar; she’ll be fine for an hour!” “If you don’t come with me to sign the papers right now, I’ll cut the rope myself!” Charles looked as if he wanted to strangle her, but looking at my fading consciousness and the fragile state of the rope, he had to comply to keep her from doing something even more drastic. Eleanor locked the heavy metal door to the rooftop behind them, dragging Charles down the stairs. Simon, left on the other side of the door, kicked and pounded on the metal, his voice growing hoarse as he screamed through the small iron grate. “Hold on, sissy! I’m here! I won’t leave you!” During the drive to City Hall, Charles’s mind was entirely consumed by his daughter hanging from the building. Beside him, Eleanor was laughing and crying, clutching his arm. “We’re going to start over. Simon is speaking. Our family is whole again.” At the registry, Charles signed his name with a trembling hand, his heart sinking into his chest. And at the exact moment Eleanor held up the fresh marriage certificate, weeping with triumph, the frayed rope on the rooftop finally snapped. A dull, terrible crack echoed across the empty roof. Simon watched from the window as my body plunged toward the earth. He let out a soul-shattering scream. I hit the emergency cushions the onlookers had set up below, but the impact from that height was too massive. The world went completely black. Simon sprinted down the stairs, falling and scraping his knees, before throwing himself into the ambulance beside me. Meanwhile, Eleanor and Charles were caught in a sudden traffic jam on their way back. An ambulance with blaring sirens sped past their car. Charles felt a sudden, icy dread in his chest. Beside him, Eleanor was still smiling, planning their future. “Charles, we’re going to live a good life now. I’ll take care of you and the children.” Charles couldn’t say a word. At the hospital, Simon was already standing outside the operating room. Covered in my blood, he stood there like an empty shell. For the first time in his life, without any prompting or pain, he spoke in full, coherent sentences. He begged the surgeons to save his sister, crying that she was terrified of pain, that he had promised to buy her a cake, that she couldn’t die. But the fluency of his words was nothing but a cruel irony. It was exactly what our mother had wanted, but it had cost my life. After what felt like an eternity, the surgeon stepped out of the room, lowering his head. “I am sorry. We did everything we could…” Simon stood frozen. At that moment, my spirit detached from my body. I looked down at the operating table, seeing my pale, blood-stained face. I was dead. Simon pulled out his phone and dialed Mother’s number. Eleanor answered, still talking excitedly about the marriage certificate. Simon let out a ragged sob. “Sissy is dead.” Eleanor’s voice faltered. “That’s impossible. The rope was tied. She was fine when we left. You’re just upset, Simon.” But Charles had already grabbed the wheel, turning the car around and speeding toward the apartment building. When they arrived, the police had already broken open the rooftop door. Eleanor ran to the pillar, her eyes locking onto the severed hemp rope. She froze, stumbling toward the ledge. Looking down, the dark, dried pool of blood on the concrete pavement below pierced Charles’s eyes. He collapsed, clutching his head as he let out a guttural cry of grief. Eleanor gripped the railing, her face entirely bloodless. The marriage certificate slipped from her fingers, drifting slowly down into the wind.

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1 I kept my eyes locked on the tie clip resting on my husband’s collar. Even though the color and cut were nearly identical, I knew in a heartbeat. It wasn’t the one he put on this morning. “That clip is a limited edition. George won the only one in New York at that auction just for you!” Brooke stirred her coffee with agonizing slowness, completely brushing off my concerns. “You are just so madly in love with the guy that you’re getting paranoid.” I shook my head slightly. “It just feels different.” “Look, princess, everyone knows George worships the ground you walk on. That clip was an anniversary gift. The man literally has your socks custom-made. He would never let someone else own the exact same thing as you.” Brooke rolled her eyes, a hint of playful jealousy in her expression. “Honestly, I think you’re just rubbing your perfect marriage in my perpetually single face.” I froze for a second, then let out a sudden, genuine laugh at her dramatic pout. “I am not.” Right on cue, my phone began to ring. “Sweetheart, is your coffee date over yet?” George’s deep, velvety voice drifted through the speaker. “Not yet,” I replied softly. Just hearing the gentle cadence of his voice made my eyes unconsciously soften. “Well, give me a call right before you wrap up. I’ll come pick you up. Traffic is a nightmare right now, and I hate the idea of you driving alone.” Every word was wrapped in heavy, undeniable devotion. Brooke shook her head across the table, muttering under her breath. “Lord. You are the only woman on earth who gets to see the ruthless George Kensington act like a golden retriever.” She wasn’t wrong. In the corporate world, George was cold ice. He was decisive, aggressive, and entirely merciless. I was the only person who got to see this fiercely attentive side of him. He knew every microscopic detail of my existence, as if I were carved into his very bones. He knew my favorite bakery, the niche designers I adored, the subtle twitch in my brow when I was upset, and the way I tapped my fingers when I was happy. He knew I loved the smell of wet grass right before a thunderstorm, and how I loved watching the sun shatter across the surface of a lake. He remembered things about me that I didn’t even notice myself. A few years ago, we took a road trip through the Pacific Northwest. A massive storm hit, trapping us on a winding mountain pass. Lightning struck close, and the earth gave way. A tidal wave of mud and crushed rock came hurtling down the ridge straight toward our car. In that split second between life and death, George threw his entire body over mine. He took the full force of the shattered windshield, wrapping me in his arms and burying my head against his chest as the car was swept off the road. He didn’t let go. Not once. When the rescue teams finally dug us out of the freezing mud, George only allowed his eyes to close after he saw me securely lifted onto the ambulance stretcher. He collapsed from pure exhaustion, his back torn open by glass and jagged rock, leaving a permanent, jagged scar down his spine. When he finally woke up in the hospital, he looked at my red, swollen eyes and offered a faint, exhausted smile. “It’s just proof that George Kensington would die for Hazel.” Because of that day, I never questioned his love. I loved him just as fiercely. But it was exactly because I loved him so deeply that a single, minuscule flaw in a tie clip was enough to trigger alarms in my head. It was an exclusive piece, bought at a high-end charity auction just last week. Maybe Brooke was right. Maybe there wasn’t a second one in the entire city, and I was just losing my mind. But then why did my stomach feel like it was full of crushed glass? After agonizing over it for another ten minutes, I decided to go to Kensington Holdings. I needed to look him in the eye and clear my head. Sitting in the back of an Uber, I watched the city blur past the window, my mind a tangled mess. What was I even going to say when I saw him? Would throwing a baseless accusation in his face break his heart? We were one block away. I called Nina to let her know I was coming. When the car pulled up to the glass skyscraper, she was already waiting by the revolving doors. Seeing her bright, welcoming smile eased the knot in my chest. Nina used to be the janitor at my yoga studio. Once, I accidentally left my phone in the locker room, and she literally tripped down a flight of concrete stairs trying to run after me to return it. After learning she was struggling to support her family, I pulled some strings and got her a cushy front-desk job at George’s company. Dressed in a sharp, tailored skirt suit, Nina practically bounded over to me. “Hazel! You’re finally here!” I offered a polite smile. “Is something wrong? Did something happen at the office?” Nina leaned in, her eyes wide with dramatic secrecy. “Huge news. Absolutely massive.” My heart stopped. “What happened?” Was George hurt? Seeing the sheer panic on my face, Nina giggled and bumped my shoulder. “Mr. Kensington misses his wife so much he’s taking it out on us corporate drones. The negative energy is suffocating. I’d call that a massive crisis, wouldn’t you?” I let out a long, shaky breath and shot her a playful glare. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.” Nina laughed, escorting me to the private executive elevator and swiping her keycard for the penthouse floor. When the metal doors slid open, I was met with the sight of several stunningly gorgeous young women clustered in the corridor. I couldn’t help the intrusive thought that clawed at my brain. Was George involved with one of them? The moment the thought materialized, I felt physically sick. How could I even think that? When George became the youngest billionaire in Manhattan, endless parades of supermodels and heiresses threw themselves at his feet, and he never gave them a second glance. He wouldn’t throw our life away for a random temp. Seeing me frowning and biting my lip, Nina quickly clarified the situation. “Those are the new hires for the PR department. Mr. Kensington specifically ordered HR to handle the final interviews so he wouldn’t have to stay late and miss dinner with you.” She playfully poked my waist. “Don’t tell me the CEO’s wife is actually getting jealous?” I sighed, rubbing my temples. “Yeah, yeah. You caught me.” Nina dropped me off in front of George’s double oak doors and headed back downstairs. I looked inside. The massive office was entirely empty. A cup of black coffee was still steaming on his desk. He couldn’t have gone far. I sat on the plush leather sofa for twenty minutes, but he never showed up. Restless, I stepped back out into the hallway and pushed open the door to the secretary’s office. The heavy blackout blinds were completely drawn, leaving only thin slivers of gray light slicing through the dark room. A woman was sitting behind the massive mahogany desk, her head bowed, entirely oblivious to me standing in the doorway. I knocked twice on the glass pane. The woman jumped, her head snapping up. When our eyes met, I froze dead in my tracks. Daisy. I remembered the day perfectly. I was sitting on the living room sofa, mindlessly flipping through a fashion magazine. The front door clicked open, and I looked up to see George walk in, his face looking like a thunderstorm. The sheer darkness rolling off his shoulders made my pulse spike. I walked over, gently running my fingers through his damp hair. “What’s wrong, baby?” He didn’t say a word. He just buried his face in my neck, holding me so tight it hurt. After a suffocating silence, his voice cracked. “I saw Daisy today.” My hand froze in his hair. The darkest, bloodiest memory I possessed came rushing back, drowning me. Years ago, George and I were expecting our first child. I was six months pregnant. He was driving me to a routine ultrasound, and he pulled the car over to run into a pharmacy for some bottled water. I was sitting in the passenger seat, resting my hand on my swollen belly, watching him walk through the glass doors. The next second, a massive commercial delivery truck smashed into the back of our sedan at highway speeds. The truck driver died on impact. I was crushed into the mangled metal of the dashboard, barely breathing, watching a river of my own blood pool around my legs. We lost the baby. I spent a week in a coma in the ICU before I even woke up. Daisy was the truck driver’s daughter. She was fourteen at the time. I could still remember her standing behind a police officer in the hospital hallway, her face stained with tears, looking like a terrified animal. George never personally handled low-level hires. So when he ran into Daisy at Kensington Holdings, she was already a fully contracted employee. Standing in our living room that night, George’s eyes were entirely bloodshot. He wiped a tear from my cheek, his face twisting in genuine agony. He held me fiercely. “I know, sweetheart. I know. It’s in the past. I’m going to fire her tomorrow. I promise you will never have to look at her face.” George grew up in a broken home. I knew better than anyone how desperately he wanted that baby. When I first opened my eyes in the hospital, he was on his knees beside my bed, pale as a ghost, weeping like a lost child. His grief was just as deep, just as violent as mine. A few weeks after he told me about Daisy, I asked him if she was gone. He hesitated, his eyes flashing with deep guilt. “She… she’s pregnant. Labor laws state we can’t terminate her contract until her maternity period ends.” He panicked, quickly grabbing my hands. “But I transferred her to the logistics warehouse on the edge of the city. I swear to god, she will never cross your path!” He hadn’t lied. The few times I visited the company after that, I never saw her. Until today. Sitting directly in the executive secretary’s office. I stared at her, my voice dropping to a freezing temperature. “Why are you here?” A highly unnatural flush painted Daisy’s pale cheeks. She scrambled out of the leather chair, bowing her head nervously. “Sarah is on a business trip, so the logistics staff are rotating to cover her desk. It was my turn this week.” She was petite, almost frail, with thick bangs hiding her eyes. Her heavily pregnant stomach protruded sharply against her frame. Logic screamed at me that she was an innocent girl paying for her father’s sins. But looking at her pregnant belly, the phantom pain of my dead child twisted a knife into my ribs. I swallowed the bile in my throat. “Where is George?” “The city just released a batch of project funds. Mr. Kensington took the finance director downstairs to sign the clearance papers.” She gestured toward the door. “You can wait in his office. He should be back at any moment.” Before she even finished her sentence, her entire body gave a violent, uncontrollable shudder. I frowned, taking a step forward. “Are you okay?” Daisy took a ragged breath and forced a painfully tight smile. “I just stood up too fast. A little dizzy, that’s all. Thank you for asking.” I walked back to George’s office and sat in his chair. The entire surface of his desk was covered in framed photos of me. He had handwritten the exact time, date, and location on the back of every single one. I leaned back, a bitter taste in my mouth. Maybe Brooke was right. Maybe I really was a paranoid lunatic. A man who loved me this loudly, this shamelessly, would never betray me. Just as I let out a sigh, George walked in. He leaned gracefully against the doorframe, his eyes curving into half-moons, a soft, teasing smile playing on his lips. “Miss me?” I stood up, crossing the room to wrap my arms around his waist, burying my face in his chest. “Are you mad I crashed your day?” George let out a low chuckle. He tilted my chin up with two fingers and leaned down, pressing a deep, lingering kiss to my lips. “I am thrilled. You made my whole week.” His embrace was warm, solid. But something felt incredibly wrong. His heart was hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. Looking closer, there was a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. And beneath the sharp scent of his cologne, there was a faint, sour smell. I opened my mouth to ask if he was feeling sick, but the digital calendar on the wall screen flashed red. An automated message from the secretary’s desk popped up. Meeting with the Sinclair Group in five minutes. George subtly shifted his weight, his eyes darkening as he read the notification. “Sweetheart, can you hang out here for a bit?” I pushed gently out of his arms. “No, it’s fine. I don’t want to distract you. I’ll wait for you at home.” I stood on my toes, kissed his forehead, and walked out the door. As the elevator doors slid shut, the frantic, pounding rhythm of George’s heart echoed in my ears. I couldn’t shake it. Something was horribly wrong. I pressed the button for the penthouse floor again. When I stepped back into the hallway, the door to the secretary’s office was cracked open. Through the narrow slit, I saw Daisy slumped back in the leather chair. Her knuckles were bone-white as she gripped the armrests, taking deep, desperate gasps of air. I told myself it was just pregnancy complications. Back in my third trimester, I used to get dizzy spells and shortness of breath out of nowhere. I didn’t want to invade her privacy, so I turned around and headed for the stairs. But as I walked past George’s office, the door was wide open. It was completely empty. When did he leave? Where did he go? And then it hit me like a physical blow. The desk in the secretary’s office. It was massive. Easily large enough to comfortably conceal a fully grown man underneath it. After work hours, I sat in my car and watched Daisy walk down the block. I tailed her on foot until she pushed through the gold-trimmed revolving doors of the Plaza Hotel. She walked quickly, never once looking over her shoulder. I watched the digital numbers above the elevator stop dead on the 37th floor. A chill crawled up my spine. This was the most exclusive, hyper-luxurious hotel in the city. Any floor above the 36th was reserved exclusively for long-term residential VIP suites. One suite per floor. How in the hell could a warehouse temp afford to live here? I sat in a velvet chair in the lobby lounge, my brain short-circuiting. What was I doing? Why was I stalking this pregnant girl? Because she looked a little flushed? Because my husband’s heart was beating fast? A wave of crushing humiliation washed over me. This was pathetic. I was the wife of a billionaire, hiding behind a potted plant because of a completely fabricated delusion. I grabbed my purse, ready to go home and apologize to George. But just as I stood up, a familiar figure walked through the front doors. George.

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Out of nowhere, some self-proclaimed “Judge” popped up on the national college forums, vowing to expose the true colors of every popular, high-achieving student on campus. For the past three months, student representatives from the top Ivy-tier universities had been falling from grace one by one. They were outed for bullying, cheating, and cheating on their partners. Their scholarships were entirely revoked. One girl from a low-income family even buckled under the immense psychological pressure and jumped from an eighth-floor dorm window. Overnight, paranoia gripped universities across the country. The very next day, right before my mandatory major seminar began, a tall girl with sharply stunning features walked into our lecture hall. Her eyes scanned the room, lingering for two seconds on Noah, my childhood best friend and the undisputed campus heartthrob. Then, her gaze locked dead onto me, the girl sitting comfortably in the top one percent of the grading curve. “Hey everyone. From this moment on, I will be using the utmost fairness to expose those who do not deserve their pedestals.” 1 When The Judge first surfaced on the forums, everyone treated it like a joke. “What kind of edgy Judge is this? What a clown.” “Just some clout chaser desperate for attention.” That was until the student icons of the top three universities were completely wiped out over the span of three months. No one was spared. The prodigy of Alden University, a future star in the physics world, was outed for having zero basic life skills. The Judge claimed she relied entirely on her boyfriend to spoon-feed her and manage her life. The genius fell from grace overnight. The Student Body President at Bancroft College was exposed for abusing her power and facilitating campus bullying. By the next morning, she was impeached, and her mugshots were plastered all over the internet. Then came Laura, the stunning but impoverished sweetheart of Camden University. She was once the literal poster girl for the school’s social media admissions campaign. The Judge accused her of two-timing multiple guys and having an inappropriate relationship with a professor. As soon as the scandal gained traction, Camden University scrambled to save its reputation. They instantly revoked three years’ worth of Laura’s scholarships and suspended the professor in question. Outside the college forums, the internet trolls absolutely worshipped this anonymous vigilante. “Full support for judging all these fake elitists! Hell yeah!” “This is so satisfying to watch. I’ve always hated these snobby college kids. Why should they get all the societal perks? They’re the reason class inequality exists!” Inside the national college forums, however, the atmosphere grew increasingly suffocating. No one knew if they were going to be next. “Our school, Dalton University, is ranked fourth nationally. You don’t think the next target is…” As I walked across campus, I could feel several pairs of eyes subtly darting in my direction. “You mean Amanda?” “It has to be. She takes the national valedictorian scholarship every single year, and she’s the President of the Student Coalition. That creep definitely has eyes on her.” “Man, I feel bad for Amanda. She’s actually really nice.” “Yeah, well, people said Laura was nice too. Look what happened after all her dirty laundry got aired out. She took her own life. People have multiple faces.” Noah glanced at my expression, his jaw tight. “I heard this psychopath usually starts digging by questioning the people closest to the target. If she comes to me, I’m going to absolutely tear that clown apart.” I pulled my gaze away from the whispering crowd and smiled. “You don’t need to do that. Whatever she asks, just tell her the truth.” Honestly, I was more worried she wouldn’t be able to dig up anything at all. On the second day after Harper transferred to our school, I had my English public speaking competition. I was on stage, delivering my speech with perfect flow, when the background music suddenly cut off. A figure stormed onto the stage and snatched the microphone right from my stand. “I am reporting contestant number three, Amanda, for plagiarizing someone else’s transcript! She is violating the rules of this competition!” 2 The faces of the ten judges in the front row dropped instantly. Harper looked at me, raising an eyebrow. Her smile was laced with pure provocation. “I demand a secondary review of her manuscript. We absolutely cannot cover up this kind of blatant cheating!” The faculty member in charge of script vetting shot up from his seat. “That is impossible. All contestant scripts undergo a rigorous screening process.” “Miss, I know you feel a strong sense of justice, but you cannot just throw baseless slander around!” Harper clearly hadn’t expected a professor to stand up and challenge her. Her face darkened, the hostility in her eyes thickening. She let out a cold scoff and muttered under her breath. “You’re all rotten to the core.” I stood on the stage, completely silent. I just watched quietly as she manipulated the LED screen behind me, displaying my exact transcript. She pointed out which sentence came from where, how I had heavily spun the text, spinning a wildly convincing narrative. She was smart. Speech script paraphrasing has always been a gray area. The themes are practically identical, and the sentiments are universal. If you force two speeches side by side, you can always find a couple of sentences that mean the exact same thing. The school rules dictated that if plagiarism was confirmed, the student would be permanently banned from competing. If it was only suspected, the student would be temporarily disqualified and could only try again the following year. But I needed to win this exact competition to apply for my study abroad program before this year’s deadline. And this exchange program was my one and only shot, an opportunity I had secured after sending countless emails back and forth with a foreign mentor. When Harper finished her presentation, the judges in the audience exchanged nervous glances, their faces twisting in visible dilemma. They knew me well. They knew my actual capabilities. But they also knew that if they openly trusted me right now, Harper would very likely drag them down into the mud too. That was exactly how Laura’s professor had been “judged.” “Amanda, maybe we should…” “I understand.” I gave a blank, emotionless bow and walked straight out of the auditorium. 3 Threads about me flooded the forums almost immediately. But the comment sections were dead, eerily quiet. Other than Harper, no one dared to speak up. It had been this way for a while now. Whenever the last victim was being judged, anyone who spoke up in her defense was instantly branded as an accomplice and canceled just as hard. A thick fog of tension and terror blanketed the campus. The speech competition was just her warning shot. It wasn’t anywhere near the intensity of her previous purges. For the next few days, I lived like a criminal under 24/7 surveillance. Harper’s eyes were everywhere. In the lecture halls, the dining hall, the dorm corridors. When eating at the dining hall, Noah and I always had a habit of sitting at the second table by the window. The moment we sat down, Harper materialized right next to me. “Amanda, I noticed you sit here every single day. The dining hall has open seating, yet when it’s packed, no one else dares to take this spot.” “Are you leveraging your title as Student Coalition President and class rep to exercise special privileges?” I glanced over my shoulder. There were massive patches of empty seats all over the cafeteria. Before I could even open my mouth, Noah snapped back. “Where we sit is none of your damn business. Do you really have nothing better to do?” She glared at Noah, looking genuinely offended. “Noah, I am warning you for your own good. Stay away from her, so you don’t get dragged down when she eventually crashes and burns!” Noah let out a harsh laugh. “Who the hell are you?” A flicker of genuine hurt crossed Harper’s face, quickly replaced by a look of bone-deep hatred aimed right at me. She spun around and stormed off. The very next day, the seats I usually occupied were coated in industrial rubber cement that couldn’t be scrubbed off. Then came the annual need-based financial aid review. As usual, the academic advisor assigned me to be the head of the review committee. Harper immediately stood up and loudly objected in front of everyone. “Why is Amanda the default head of this committee? I did my research. She has led the financial aid review every single year, and every single year, the grant goes to Sarah. I have every reason to suspect this committee is completely rigged!” The advisor gave her a tired look, sighing in defeat. “Fine. You can join the review board too.” But during this year’s review, Sarah’s application was missing a crucial document. The student who suddenly looked best on paper was Brad, a guy whose family was actually doing quite well. I received a text from Sarah. “Amanda, I was too embarrassed to hand in my paperwork back then. You only made me apply because you found out how bad things were at home.” “Thank you for taking care of me these past three years. But please, don’t give me the grant this year. I don’t want to drag you down.” My heart ached. I gritted my teeth and turned to the committee. “Sometimes the faculty has leftover, unused grant slots. Why don’t we try applying for one of those on Sarah’s behalf?” “Absolutely not!” Before anyone else could speak, Harper spearheaded the opposition. “Sarah couldn’t even put a complete file together, and you claim you aren’t playing favorites? I knew these past few years of grants were dirty. Tell us, Amanda, how much of a kickback have you been taking from Sarah’s money?” When she sabotaged my competition, I barely felt a thing. But this was about whether a genuinely impoverished student could get the help she desperately needed to survive. I absolutely refused to let her ruin this! Suppressing my fury, I fired back. “I am simply applying for an unused surplus slot. We aren’t taking money away from anyone else. Why shouldn’t we try?” Harper sneered. “Look at you. You top-tier students always think you’re the ones following the rules. But the second it touches your own interests, the rules mean absolutely nothing to you!” “You’re all just a bunch of rotting hypocrites.” I stared at her, my eyes entirely dead. I picked up my pen and, completely ignoring her protests, wrote Sarah’s name onto the application form. The day the financial aid results were posted, I went viral. Dozens of clickbait accounts plastered my face across social media. [Dalton U’s Amanda: Where is the federal financial aid really going?] [The God of Justice challenges the campus elite! I’m voting for the grassroots Judge!] [Campus is a mini-society, and Amanda thinks she’s a dictator.] Every time I opened an app, I saw heavily edited, meme-ified videos of my argument with Harper captured by the CCTV cameras. I had officially become the new target of the purge. 4 The reason I’m only bringing this up now is that in the previous three purges, the real trial didn’t start when Harper physically walked onto campus. It started the moment she weaponized the internet to hold her kangaroo court. Social dynamics are a web, and the internet is the thickest, most suffocating spiderweb in existence. The moment a flawed person is thrown into it, the threads quickly wrap around them until they choke. Harper’s only job was to point out the very first flaw. Soon enough, my entire life was dug up by the masses. Everything about me was slapped with a massive question mark. How did I even get into Dalton? How did I become the Student Coalition President? What dirty tricks was I using to win all those competitions? Seeing the wild speculation and disgusting rumors, Noah was furious enough to go hunt Harper down. I reached out and gently held him back. “The favor I asked you to do. How is it going?” He nodded sharply. “I should have the results by today.” I exhaled in relief. Good. Time was running out. But I hadn’t expected Harper to strike even faster than I calculated. Monday was the general election assembly for the entire Student Body and Coalition. The auditorium was packed with judging faculty and students running for office. I pulled up my slides and began my reelection pitch for Coalition President. “In the coming year, I will continue to work tirelessly to serve all of you. I hope I can count on your vote!” The professors in the front row nodded in satisfaction, but their expressions suddenly shifted as they looked past me. I turned my head. Harper was standing at the entrance. She walked slowly up to the podium, shoved me aside, yanked my flash drive out of the computer, and jammed hers in. One of the professors frowned deeply. “Miss, if you are planning to run for a position, please wait for your turn.” Harper shot her a look and rolled her eyes dramatically. “I couldn’t care less about your little elections. Do you really think everyone wants to kiss up to your bureaucratic nonsense?” Hearing such blunt disrespect, several professors scowled. The Dean of the college, sitting dead center in the front row, watched quietly and said nothing. Harper opened a folder full of screenshots, set up her phone on a tripod, aimed the camera right at my face, and started a live stream of her purge. Then, she spoke, her voice ringing with absolute certainty. “I believe Amanda is entirely unfit to continue serving as Student Coalition President.” “Furthermore, she is unfit to even be a student at Dalton University!”

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1 Eight years studying manipulative victim-players left my dissertation stalled, missing a prime subject. So when my wealthy biological parents arrived with DNA proof, I saw opportunity. Father announced Beth, my frail younger sister, demanding I accommodate her. Perfect data. I entered their car without packing. Back at the estate, Beth offered homemade soup with a sweet smile. As I reached, she dropped the bowl. Porcelain shattered. She sobbed instantly, claiming I struck it away. Mother cradled her, citing burns. Brother Mark kicked shards, ordering me gone. Father demanded an apology. Beth wept dramatically over a faint red mark. I opened my research journal, pen ready. Smiling, I asked Beth for her contact details. I wished to credit her properly in my dissertation acknowledgments. … “Are you out of your mind? Contact info?” Mark slapped the journal out of my hand. It flipped through the air and landed right next to the broken porcelain. I looked at Mark’s face, flushed red with anger. He was panting like a rabid bulldog. “Beth’s hand is scalded, and you’re here making snide remarks?” He pointed a finger at my face. “Do you have any humanity left in you?” I ignored him, bent down to avoid the glass, picked up my journal, and dusted it off. Then I looked at Beth. “Scalded how badly?” I asked with genuine academic curiosity. “Are we talking dermal damage or subcutaneous tissue necrosis?” Beatrice’s eyes were filled with tears of anger. She blew on Beth’s hand while glaring at me. “How did I give birth to such a cold-blooded monster!” Beatrice hissed. “Growing up in the sticks for twenty years has turned you into a bitter, venomous creature. You aren’t worth a single hair on your sister’s head!” Beth snuggled closer to Beatrice, her shoulders trembling. “Mom, don’t blame Gwen. It was my fault. I didn’t hold it tightly. I’m just clumsy.” She wept, but her eyes darted toward me with unmistakable smugness. I shook my head, opening my journal. “Don’t sell yourself short.” I uncapped my pen. “According to basic physics, the bowl was exactly twelve inches above the table. The moment you released your grip, your wrist made a highly deliberate outward twist. This ensured the soup splashed entirely away from you and perfectly targeted my trousers.” I looked up, locking eyes with Beth, whose face instantly froze. “That’s not clumsiness, Beth. That’s precise parabolic calculation. You must have aced high school physics, right?” Beth’s crying stopped abruptly. The living room fell dead silent. Mark froze, then exploded. “What kind of garbage logic is that? Beth has always been terrified of hot things! She would never burn herself!” He kicked a nearby coffee table. “You’re not just cruel, you’re a liar! You’re not welcome in this house!” Richard, who had been silently drinking tea, slammed his cup down. “Enough.” His voice was heavy with authority. “You’ve barely stepped through the door and you’ve already turned this house upside down. It seems your unrefined upbringing is hard to wash away.” He dusted off his expensive suit. “Since you don’t know the rules, I’ll teach you.” Richard signaled the butler, who stepped forward with a thick document. “Miss Caldwell, this is a voluntary waiver for the family trust fund.” I looked at it, keeping my hands to myself. Richard leaned back. “Your sister is fragile and has a weak heart. She needs medical security. Now that you’re back with the Caldwells, we will provide for your basic needs. But you will sign this trust fund over to Beth. Consider it an apology for the soup.” A power play combined with financial exploitation. A classic wealthy family tactic for breaking in an unruly pet. Beatrice sneers. “Don’t think sharing our blood gives you free rein here. Beth is worth ten of you. I’d rather the money go to someone who deserves it.” Beth quickly struggled to stand up, pale and waving her hands. “Dad, Mom, please don’t. This belongs to Gwen. I can’t take it.” She shrank back, looking terrified, tears rolling down her cheeks. I watched her seamless performance with absolute delight. Beautiful. This “retreating to advance” maneuver was a textbook display of manipulative behavior. I snatched the document from the butler. “Beth, don’t be afraid.” I smiled. “Your performance is brilliant. You’ve earned this appearance fee.” I signed my name on the last page. Gwen. I slide the document back across the table. “Signed.” I looked at the stunned Richard. “Think of this fund as my research budget for observing Subject Number One.” I closed my journal. “Please keep up this high-purity favoritism and stupidity. Don’t disappoint me.” Silence. Richard’s face turned from red to purple. Beatrice gapes. Mark looked at me like I was insane. “Are you brain-damaged?” I grabbed my canvas duffel bag. “No need to thank me. Where is my room? Lead the way.” The butler, snapping out of his daze, wiped cold sweat from his forehead and quickly guided me upstairs. Behind me, Beatrice’s shrill screams and Beth’s quiet sniffling echoed. I pulled out my phone and logged the first entry: Day one. Subject is highly active. Excellent long-term observational value. 2 The butler took me to a room at the very end of the second-floor hallway. Cold, damp, and smelling of long-term neglect. It faced north, and the view was just a blank gray brick wall. Inside, there was only a single bed and an empty wardrobe. Not even a desk. The butler avoided my eyes. “We have guests staying over, so the proper guest rooms are occupied. Please bear with this for tonight. I’ll arrange for furniture tomorrow.” “It’s perfect. A natural quarantine zone.” I genuinely liked it. Isolated, few variables, great for data processing. The butler blinked, nodded quickly, and retreated. I drew the curtains, pulled out three micro-infrared cameras, and deployed them in the corners of the room within ten minutes. Prevention is key in academic research. At dinner time, a maid knocked to invite me down. I headed down with my notebook. The long mahogany dining table was laden with gourmet dishes. Richard sat at the head, Beatrice and Mark on the left, Beth beside Beatrice. On the right, there was a single empty seat. I pulled out the chair and sat down. I noticed a fascinating detail: the four of them had gold-rimmed bone china settings. In front of me sat a cheap stainless steel cafeteria tray and a pair of cheap, splintering disposable wooden chopsticks. Mark snickers. “What are you staring at? Be glad you’re even getting fed.” Beth stood up, carefully carrying a bowl of soup to me. “Don’t mind it, Gwen. Since you just came from the countryside, I was worried your stomach couldn’t handle the family’s regular dishes. We wouldn’t want any H. pylori or stomach bacteria spreading to Mom and Dad.” She placed the soup next to my metal tray. “I asked the kitchen to prepare this especially for you. It’s clean.” Beatrice nodded. “Beth is always so thoughtful. You should thank your sister.” I looked at the splintered chopsticks. Instead of picking them up, I pulled a clear plastic folder from my bag and dropped it onto the middle of the table. “Since we are being so hygienic, let’s follow scientific protocol.” I pointed to the folder. “This is a full-body medical report I got yesterday from Boston General Hospital. It covers blood work, metabolic panels, infectious diseases, and a C14 breath test for H. pylori. Negative across the board. Perfect health.” I leaned back, looking at Beth. “Now, your turn. Show me your medical report. Since you’ve been sickly since childhood, who knows what latent infections you’re carrying? For Mom and Dad’s safety, I suggest you switch to a disposable tray as well.” The air froze. Mark slammed the table. “Gwen! Are you trying to pick a fight? Beth was trying to help you, and you bring out some stupid medical report to show off? If you don’t want to eat, get the hell out!” I looked at him. Violent tendencies, high irritability, classic low-intelligence protective syndrome. I jotted it down. Beatrice trembled. “Richard, look at her! How are we supposed to eat?” Richard sneers. “Put those papers away. You don’t set the rules at this table.” Beth’s eyes welled up with tears. “Don’t blame Gwen, Mom. It’s my fault. I’ll go get a disposable tray for myself.” She turned toward the kitchen, looking incredibly fragile. Mark grabbed her arm. “You’re not changing anything! She’s the one who needs to get out!” He glared at me. “You don’t deserve this food!” With a loud crash, Mark swept my metal tray and its contents straight into the trash can. The maids shrunk back in terror. I watched the mess. No anger, no sadness. Just excitement. “Excellent stress response.” I stood up, sliding my medical report back into my bag. “Subject Number Two has a remarkably low emotional threshold, making him extremely easy to manipulate. You make a perfect control group.” I walked toward the stairs. At the landing, I stopped and look back. “By the way, a quick tip. That plate of drunken crab on the table? It was made with dead crabs. The histamine levels are off the charts. Eat up, if you don’t mind a night of severe food poisoning.” Mark yelled at my back, “Shut up! These are premium crabs flown in this morning!” I shrugged and went to my room, where I ordered delivery on my phone. Two hours later, chaos erupted downstairs. Sirens wailed. Mark was wheeled into an ambulance, clutching his stomach and screaming in agony. Standing behind my curtain, I recorded the flashing blue lights of the ambulance. Beautiful data collection. 3 The next morning, the tension in the Caldwell mansion was suffocating. Mark spent the night on an IV at the hospital. Beatrice, with bloodshot eyes, sat on the sofa sighing. When I walked downstairs, she glared at me. “You jinxed him! Ever since you came back, there hasn’t been a single day of peace!” I grabbed a glass of warm water. “I warned him about the dead crabs. If a dog insists on eating garbage, you can’t blame me for the diarrhea.” “You!” Beatrice threw a throw pillow at me. I tilted my head slightly, and it hit the water dispenser, falling to the floor. Beth came downstairs and immediately comforted Beatrice. “Mom, don’t get upset. It’s not worth ruining your health.” She looked at me with a sorrowful expression. “Gwen, even if Mark was rude to you, you shouldn’t have cursed him.” I pulled out my notebook. Concept switching, logical inversion. Distorting a factual warning into a malicious curse—a classic manipulative tactic to shift narrative focus. Richard walked in, scowling. “What’s all this noise?” He looked at me with disgust. “Tomorrow night, we are hosting a gala to officially introduce you to society. Beatrice, take them to buy some proper clothes today. I don’t want people thinking the Caldwells neglect our own.” Beatrice gave a reluctant nod. In the afternoon, the family driver dropped us off at Copley Place, Boston’s premier luxury shopping mall. Beatrice held Beth’s hand, completely ignoring me as I walked behind like a stray shadow. We entered a high-end designer boutique. The associate greeted them warmly. “Mrs. Caldwell, Miss Caldwell, we’ve reserved the latest seasonal arrivals for you.” Beth pointed to a rack of haute couture. “Mom, that starry-night gown is beautiful. I want to try it.” Beatrice beamed. “Try it, sweetheart. You look gorgeous in everything.” I walked to the other side and picked up a minimalist black evening gown. No flashy ornaments, but the cut and fabric were top-tier. As I prepared to ask for my size, a pale hand reached out and grabbed the fabric. “Gwen, this dress suits you so well,” Beth said, appearing beside me. Her eyes betrayed a flash of envy. “But it’s a bit dark. It might make you look a little too mature. Store associate, please pack this one for me instead. I think it would look better on me.” The associate looked between us, hesitant. Beatrice walked over. “If Beth wants it, let her have it! Why are you fighting over a plain black dress anyway?” She sneers at me. “Associate, find Gwen something cheaper. Just make sure she’s covered.” I let go of the fabric. “Sure.” I looked at Beth. “This dress is priced at thirty-eight thousand dollars. Since you love it so much, you can pay for it.” Beth froze. “Gwen… Mom is paying for this.” I smiled. “I signed the trust fund waiver last night. Technically, I’m just a penniless girl from the countryside. Since you’re the one snatching the dress I chose, you can’t expect me or the family trust to pay for you, an outsider. After all, that trust is for your medical care, not your wardrobe.” Beth’s face flushed crimson. The associate, being a seasoned professional in luxury retail, immediately read between the lines. Beatrice’s face darkened. “Gwen, stop causing trouble! The Caldwells can easily afford a dress!” I pulled out my phone and tapped the voice recorder. “Mrs. Caldwell, please confirm this. Are you currently diverting family funds allocated for Beth’s heart condition to purchase a thirty-eight thousand dollar luxury gown? If so, I will forward this audio recording directly to the Caldwell Group’s board of trustees.” Beatrice pulled her hand back as if she had touched hot iron. The auditing standards for family medical trusts were incredibly strict. Any violation would force her to face a grilling from the board. “You… you shameless brat!” Beatrice hisses. I tucked my phone away. “Complying with the law is hardly shameless. Associate, ring it up on Miss Beth’s personal credit card.” Beth bit her lip, tears welling in her eyes, as she reluctantly pulled out her black card. She looked at the dress as if it were a burning coal. Ignoring them, I walked next door to an independent designer boutique, used my own card, and purchased a sharp, structured white pantsuit. The welcome gala was about to begin, and the real show was just getting started. 4 The gala was held at the grand ballroom of the Grand Regent Hotel, owned by the Caldwell Group. As the evening began, Boston’s elite filled the room, a sea of diamonds and designer wear. I sat in a quiet corner of the lounge in my white pantsuit, sipping club soda and observing the room with cool detachment. Beth was the star of the night. Wearing her thirty-eight thousand dollar starry-night gown, she looked like a delicate porcelain doll, surrounded by a circle of wealthy socialites. “Beth, you’re far too kind. That wild girl from the country treats you so terribly, yet you’re still defending her,” a girl in a red dress said, raising her voice deliberately. Several disdainful glances shot in my direction. Beth looked down, playing the martyr. “Don’t say that. Gwen had a hard life before she came back. It’s only natural she has a difficult personality.” I open my phone’s notepad: Using group consensus to isolate the target. A textbook social bullying opening. Midway through the evening, Richard stood on the stage, delivering a hypocritical speech about finding his long-lost daughter. Amidst the polite applause, Beth approached me with a glass of red wine, blocking the overhead spotlight. “Gwen, everyone is looking at you. Aren’t you going to offer a toast?” Her smile was sweet, but her eyes were pure venom. “I’m not thirsty,” I said without looking up. Beth leaned in close, her voice dropping to a whisper only I could hear. “Do you really think coming back means you can steal my life? In this family, I am the only one they love. Even if you share their blood, you’re nothing but a stray dog.” I stopped swirling my glass. “Heart rate 120, adrenaline spiking.” I looked at her slightly trembling shoulders. “Looks like you’re about to make your big move. Let’s get on with it, I’m on a schedule.” Beth froze for a fraction of a second. The next instant, she grabbed the lapel of my suit jacket. Simultaneously, her other hand ripped the ten-million-dollar emerald necklace from her own neck. The silver chain snapped, scattering emerald beads across the floor. Beth threw herself backward, letting out a blood-curdling shriek. “Ah! Gwen, what are you doing!” She crashed to the floor, her wrist scraping against the marble, drawing a thin line of blood. The entire ballroom fell dead silent. Every eye turned to our corner. Beatrice screamed, rushing over and pushing me aside. “Beth! Oh my god, Beth, are you alright?” Mark, who had just arrived from the hospital, saw this and went red with rage. He lunged forward, grabbing my collar. “You vicious bitch! You tried to steal Beth’s family heirloom!” Richard strode over, his face dark enough to summon a thunderstorm. “What happened here?” he bellows. The girl in the red dress steps forward to testify. “Mr. Caldwell, I saw it! Gwen tried to rip the necklace off Beth’s neck. When Beth wouldn’t let her, Gwen shoved her to the ground!” “Exactly! Some people just can’t shake their gutter habits!” whispers rippled through the crowd. Beth wept in Beatrice’s arms, gasping for breath. “Dad, don’t blame Gwen… maybe she just liked the necklace… I would have given it to her… why did she have to push me…” Richard’s chest heaved with fury. He pointed a shaking finger at my face. “Gwen! You have humiliated this family!” he roared. “Kneel down! Apologize to your sister right now, or I swear I will break your legs!” Mark pressed down on my shoulders, trying to force me to my knees. I stood firm, brushing his hands off my shoulders. I adjusted my collar. “There’s no need to kneel.” I looked at the self-righteous crowd. “Why don’t we all look up first?” I pulled a small remote from my pocket and pressed the red button. With a hum, the massive LED screen on the main stage flickered to life. The video quality was crystal clear, complete with crisp audio. The camera angle was a wide-angle view captured directly from the lapel of my suit. It showed everything.

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While filling out my handwritten wedding invites, I mindlessly browsed a popular forum on my phone. A trending thread grabbed my eye. [What is the wildest thing you’ve ever done for a best friend?] The top reply held over twenty thousand upvotes. [The craziest thing I ever did was giving the guy I loved deeply to her.] [Back in high school, my best friend and I liked the same boy. The twist? He didn’t love her—he loved me.] [I wanted her happy. So I secretly took his love letter meant for me, passed it to her, and pulled away entirely to let them date.] [Ten years have passed, and they’ll marry next month. Truth is, I never stopped loving him. Yet I have no regrets. We spent one night together after heavy drinking, and that single memory carries me through every year.] The comment section turned brutal. Half mourned her sad love story, while the rest slammed her as fake for sleeping with her closest friend’s fiancé yet playing the martyr. A response to that top post sent chills down my spine, filled with ten years of stifled regret. [So that night wasn’t just a drunk dream. It really happened.] [Sophie, I only dated her because I thought you never cared for me. If you loved me all along, why did we throw away ten years?] My hand lurched sharply. The gold ink pen scratched a thick, ugly mark across the pricey wedding invitation cardstock. My one closest friend in the whole world was Sophie. No. That was impossible. The world is a massive place. There has to be more than one Sophie out there. This was just a sick coincidence. My fingers were trembling so badly I could barely tap on the girl’s profile. The page was entirely blank. No posts. No photos. But my eyes instantly locked onto the short bio written right under her username. “I just want a steady kind of happiness.” The phone slipped from my sweaty palm and clattered against the hardwood floor. Ever since we were kids, Sophie had used that exact same quote on every single social media platform she owned. My name is Gwen. It means steady. So all these years, Sophie wasn’t praying for her own happiness. She was praying for mine. I leaned over to pick up my phone, my vision completely blurring as tears spilled down my cheeks without my permission. Sophie had not replied to his comment. But the man, my fiancé David, was still flooding the thread, begging her in front of thousands of strangers. [You have let her have her way since we were kids. But I am not a toy you can just pass around. I am a living, breathing person. What gave you the right to hand me over to her?] [I hate that you always put her first. I hate that you always martyr yourself. I hate that you loved me but spent ten straight years pretending you didn’t.] [Sophie, when are you going to finally live for yourself?] Even David knew it. I was always the most important thing in Sophie’s universe. We met when we were seven. Growing up, she let me have the best of everything. It started with the biggest, juiciest strawberry in the fruit bowl. Then it was the lead princess role in the middle school play. Later, it was the Ivy League. Everything she could possibly give me, she gave me. In high school, Sophie and I were the top two students in our graduating class. There was only one early admission recommendation letter for Columbia University. To make sure I got it, she purposely left an entire page of her final AP Calculus exam completely blank. I cried my eyes out and called her an idiot. She just laughed, flicked my forehead, and told me she could get into any college she wanted without a fancy letter. She told me to just wait for her in New York. In the light of day, Sophie had sacrificed so much for me. I never imagined that in the shadows, she was still playing the puppet master of my happiness. She even gave up the man we both loved, quietly slipping him into my hands. But Sophie, did you ever stop to ask if I wanted him like this? I collapsed over my desk, sobbing until I couldn’t pull air into my lungs. I looked up and saw our gorgeous engagement photos framed on the wall. I looked down and saw the ruined wedding invitations scattered across the desk. In the corner of the room sat the pristine boxes of wedding favors David and I had spent hours picking out together. Silk ribbons, fairy lights, custom wooden gift boxes. There was so much stuff. It practically suffocated the room. Every memory I had of David began flashing behind my eyes like a relentless movie trailer. At seventeen, he stood in the freezing rain just to buy me my favorite hot latte before first period. At twenty, he drove three hours to a remote monastery and hiked up a mountain to get me a protective charm before my semester abroad. At twenty-two, my mom suffered a massive stroke. The medical bills were a bottomless black hole. David took the fifty grand he had scraped together from years of grueling side hustles and shoved it into my hands, leaving himself with barely enough cash for groceries. That money was his sacred startup fund. He had dreamed about his own tech company for years. But when he gave it to me, he didn’t even blink. He just called me silly for crying. He said my mom was his mom, and saving her was the only thing that mattered. His warm smile. His soft kisses. The way all my anxiety melted the second he pulled me into his chest. It was all so beautiful. So unforgettable. But none of it was meant for me. I swiped past the final photo in my camera roll and harshly wiped my eyes. Some delusions need to be shattered. I walked like a mindless zombie toward Sophie’s apartment building. Just as I turned the corner, I froze. David and Sophie were standing near the alleyway, locked in a heated argument. My chest tightened painfully. I quickly shrank back into the shadows of a nearby building. David was supposed to be on a business trip in Seattle. A flight from Seattle takes hours. That meant the absolute second he saw that Reddit post, he dropped everything and rushed back like a madman. Was he really that desperate to claim her? David had a vice grip on Sophie’s wrist. She was struggling wildly to pull away. “David, let me go!” “You are marrying Gwen in literally three weeks. What is the point of bringing this up now?” David stared at her, his eyes dark and frantic, his voice completely wrecked. “The point is everything!” “Gwen and I haven’t signed the marriage license yet. We can cancel the catering, the venue, everything. I will go to her right now and confess. She can put all the blame on me and hate me for the rest of her life.” “Sophie, I have missed out on you for a decade. I am not going to miss out on you for a lifetime. Please, just stop pushing me away.” Before she could speak, he yanked her against his chest and crashed his lips down onto hers, completely losing control. Sophie pushed against his chest for a second. Then her hands curled into his shirt, and she gave in. They kissed with a raw, violent desperation. It was as if they were trying to suck ten years of stolen time out of each other’s lungs. I opened my mouth to scream, to stop them, but my throat was sealed shut. Not a single sound came out. My stomach violently turned inside out. I slumped against the cold brick wall and began to dry heave. David, when you were swallowing her sighs, did you ever once think about the woman who has loved you for the last ten years? My entire twenties had been nothing but a pathetic joke. Smack. A sharp slap echoed in the alley, breaking the kiss. Sophie shoved David away with all her strength. Her eyes were bloodshot as she screamed at him. “Do you have any idea how long Gwen has been dreaming about this wedding?” “You don’t, but I do! She has been planning this for ten years. She has wanted to be your wife since we were seventeen!” “She literally starved herself for six months just to fit into that dress. We designed that gown together, David! She sat there hand-writing every single invitation until her fingers cramped…” “You are going to give her this wedding. I swear to God, if you do anything to break Gwen’s heart, I will kill you myself!” “What happened today never happened. We are never seeing each other alone again.” David grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her slightly. “Do you honestly think I want to hurt her? Seeing Gwen cry is the worst thing in the world to me.” “But the only thing worse than breaking her heart is losing you again.” “That night in my apartment, are you going to pretend that never happened too? If you hadn’t posted that online, I would have gone to my grave thinking it was just a booze-fueled hallucination. But I had you. You were mine. How do you expect me to just walk away from that?” He dove in and kissed her again. This time, Sophie didn’t fight back at all. Tears streamed down her face as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back with equal fire. David suddenly scooped her up in his arms and carried her inside the building. The dried tears on my face felt tight and itchy. It was the middle of summer, but I was shivering so violently my teeth chattered. I stumbled out of the shadows and followed them inside. I stood in front of Sophie’s door for what felt like hours. Finally, I pulled out the spare key Sophie had given me for emergencies. I took a deep breath and twisted the lock. The heavy, sickening scent of sweat and sex hit me the second the door cracked open. I clutched my stomach and gagged. Hearing the noise, the two naked bodies tangled in the sheets jerked up in pure terror. Both sets of eyes locked onto me. David moved with lightning speed, throwing the heavy duvet over Sophie to cover her nakedness and protect her dignity. This man, who cared about his image and reputation more than anything else in the world, threw away every ounce of his pride. He stepped out of bed, completely exposed, and stood between me and the bed. “Gwen, please don’t be mad at Sophie. This is entirely on me.” “You know she values your life more than her own. She never wanted to betray you. I lost my mind. I forced myself on her. You can hate me, but please don’t hate her!” I stared dead into David’s panicked eyes and let out a hollow, broken laugh. To protect his precious Sophie, David was willing to look like a monster. He was ready to take every drop of the blame just to keep her hands clean. So this is the power of a high school sweetheart. With me, he was always so rational, so gentle, so painfully composed. But for Sophie, he was willing to bow down. He was willing to lose his damn mind. I glared at him, pure venom dripping from my voice. “Forgive her? My absolute best friend in the world just spread her legs for the man I am supposed to marry. How exactly do I forgive that?” “Sophie, David, you both make me sick. I never want to see either of you again.” Hearing the absolute fury in my voice, Sophie scrambled out from under the covers. She crawled across the cold floor, her eyes swollen and red, and grabbed tightly onto the hem of my jeans. “Gwen, please! Today was a mistake. It is all my fault. I seduced him. I practically threw myself at him.” “He only has you in his heart. You are the only woman he actually loves. I know how much you love him, Gwen. I know how badly you want this wedding. Please, don’t throw your entire future away because of a stupid, impulsive mistake. Please!” David grabbed a knit blanket from the armchair and gently wrapped it around Sophie’s bare shoulders, handling her like she was made of fragile spun glass. His eyes briefly flicked to my shaking shoulders, and a tiny frown creased his forehead. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something to comfort me, but closed it a second later. Instead, he simply reached for the remote on the nightstand and turned the air conditioning up. He still remembered. Today was the first day of my period. I was always prone to agonizing cramps when I got cold. Sophie yanked aggressively on David’s arm, screaming at him in total panic. “David, tell her! Tell her I manipulated you into this! Tell her it was just a moment of weakness, and that you have only ever loved her! Tell her she is the only woman you want to marry!” David wanted to refuse, but the second he looked into Sophie’s desperate, begging eyes, he faltered. He knew her better than anyone. If he didn’t do exactly what she said right now, she would never speak to him again. He swallowed hard, the words clawing their way out of his throat. “Gwen, please forgive me.” “You are the one I love. You are the only one I want to marry.” “Can you just give me one more chance?” He was speaking to me, but his eyes never once left Sophie’s tear-stained face. I looked down at the floor, laughing so hard new tears sprang to my eyes. They were literally fighting to take the bullet for each other. They looked like star-crossed lovers pushed to the brink by a cruel world, while I felt like the evil wicked witch trying to tear true love apart. It was poetic, really. They had always loved each other this fiercely. From the day we met until this exact second, they had been carrying this tragic, earth-shattering romance in secret. I was the third wheel. I had always been the third wheel. I didn’t waste another breath on them. I turned around and walked out the door, feeling completely numb. Why was it that I wanted to hate them so badly, but my heart just felt painfully empty? When I got back to my apartment, I opened my laptop and pulled up the email from the tech firm in Silicon Valley. “I will take the project manager position. I accept your offer.” My eyes drifted to the stack of wedding invitations sitting on the dining table. My fingers twitched. David, Sophie. You two have done so much for me behind my back. Let me do one last thing for you. I picked up my pen and methodically crossed out my name on every single invitation, writing Sophie’s name in its place. Consider this my final parting gift. The next morning, I dragged my exhausted body downstairs to throw away the trash. When I looked up, I saw David and Sophie standing near the entrance of my complex, wrapped in a tight embrace. Sophie was holding a paper bag of fresh croissants, and David had a tray of iced coffees. My exact breakfast order. Even though I had already decided to leave the country and let them be together, a vicious sting still hit the back of my eyes. Suddenly, I heard heavy footsteps. My mom was marching down the sidewalk, her arms loaded with massive bags of wedding decorations. She stopped dead in her tracks. The girl she had treated like a second daughter, and the man she proudly bragged about to all her friends, were standing right in front of her, shamelessly clinging to each other behind my back. Before I could even shout a warning, my mom hurled a heavy bag of decorations straight at Sophie’s head. “Sophie! You are supposed to be Gwen’s best friend! You are literally trying to steal your best friend’s fiancé? Are you that desperate for a man?” “You disgusting piece of trash! I will kill you both!” David instantly pulled Sophie behind his back, shielding her with his own body as my mom slapped and clawed at him. Sophie peeked out from behind him, sobbing hysterically as she tried to grab my mom’s hand. “Mrs. Harper, please, you have to listen to me! It isn’t what it looks like…” My mom ripped her hand away and slapped Sophie square across the cheek. “Save your bullshit! I saw it with my own two eyes!” David shoved Sophie firmly behind him. Seeing the bright red handprint blooming on her pale skin, his shoulders began to shake with pure rage. My mom raised her hand to strike again, completely blinded by anger. David finally snapped. He shoved my mom backward with brutal force. “Stop acting like a crazy old bat!” “I liked Sophie from the very beginning! If she hadn’t taken pity on your pathetic daughter and forced me to date her, Sophie and I would have been married years ago!” “Sophie is the greatest thing that ever happened to Gwen. She gave Gwen everything! Your daughter is the one who stole from her! Gwen is the one who owes her!” My mom’s eyes went wide with sheer horror. She pointed a trembling finger at the two of them, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to pull in a breath. Then, her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed onto the concrete. “Mom!” I screamed, sprinting across the courtyard with tears flying from my eyes. The moment they saw me, all the color drained from David and Sophie’s faces. Pure terror replaced their anger. They knew I had heard every single word. The ambulance arrived in minutes. The three of us loaded her in and sat in suffocating silence during the ride. It felt exactly like the day she had her stroke six years ago. Back then, David did everything in his power to save her. He gave his money, his time, his sanity. But this time, she was in a hospital bed because she caught him cheating and he pushed her to the ground. Thankfully, the ER doctors stabilized her quickly. They said she just suffered a severe panic-induced fainting spell and would wake up soon. I let out a shaky breath, feeling a massive weight lift off my chest. Standing in the sterile hospital corridor, David and Sophie took turns begging for my forgiveness, their voices cracking with guilt. I just nodded, my face entirely blank. “As long as my mom is okay, that is all that matters.” Seeing how incredibly calm I was, the guilt in David’s eyes only deepened. He reached out and grabbed both of my hands, squeezing them tight. “Gwen, I am so sorry. I swear I am going to marry you. I will take care of you and your mom for the rest of our lives. I will never make you cry again.” Sophie wiped her eyes, offering me a fragile, watery smile. “You are going to be the most beautiful bride in the world, Gwen.” I looked down at the linoleum floor and smiled softly. They had absolutely no idea. This wedding didn’t belong to me anymore. On the day of the wedding, while the sun was barely coming up, I was already sitting in first class on a direct flight to San Francisco. I was officially a Silicon Valley corporate drone. David, Sophie. I really hope you enjoy my gift. … Back at the venue, David stood at the end of the aisle, strangling a custom bouquet. His palms were sweating through his tailored suit. The massive mahogany doors swung open. David held his breath, a practiced smile on his face as he prepared to see Gwen. But he froze. The only person standing in the doorway was Sophie, wearing a gorgeous bridesmaid gown. Where was his bride? Sophie sprinted down the aisle, her face pale with panic. “David! Gwen is gone! I have ripped the entire hotel apart and she isn’t here!” Right on cue, the confetti cannons exploded from the ceiling. The massive digital screen behind the altar flashed with elegant gold lettering. Groom: David. Bride: Sophie. The blood drained from David’s face as reality finally crashed down on him. He ripped his phone from his pocket and frantically dialed Gwen’s number. He was met with the cold, automated voice of the operator. “We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is currently out of service.” Gwen was gone.

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1 “Do you really think getting pregnant is enough to buy your way into the Lyndon family? Plenty of women would kill to carry my child.” The sneer was still half-formed on my lips when my alcohol-addled brain suddenly snapped awake. Looking at the positive pregnancy test in my hand, then at the tear-stained, heartbroken face of the strange woman sitting across from me, I fell into a stunned silence. Where the hell am I? A crisp, electronic voice chimed inside my head: [Welcome to the Scumbag Reformation Program. You have been selected as the ultimate good guy. Your mission: Rescue your girlfriend, Jacquelynn, prevent her suicide, and give her a warm, loving home.] A flood of memories that did not belong to me rushed into my brain. I desperately needed to sort through this mental library and figure out what the hell was going on. Staring at the utterly defeated woman in front of me, my chest tightened. “Wait for me here. I need to use the restroom.” I turned and walked away. I did not even catch the light dying in her eyes behind me. Of course, she thought she was being abandoned again. She thought her boyfriend did not care about her or their baby. I rushed to the restroom. The face reflecting in the mirror was identical to my old one, with sharp brows and deep-set eyes, strikingly handsome, except there was a lingering trace of cruelty in this body’s expression. I had transmigrated into a system-maintained world. The female protagonist’s death had caused a temporal glitch, and I was chosen to patch the timeline. I took a deep breath. They picked the right guy. I could not stand hurting women. As I dug deeper into the host’s memories, I could not help but curse out loud. This guy was an absolute scumbag. The host was also named Tristan. He was a notorious trust-fund playboy in high-society circles, the only heir to the Lyndon empire. His father had never played around or had illegitimate kids, so Tristan’s inheritance was set in stone. To make matters worse, his mother had passed away years ago. His father, who had loved his late wife dearly, spoiled his only son rotten. Under such relentless indulgence, Tristan had grown into a textbook rich brat. He could get anything he wanted. But Jacquelynn, the campus sweetheart of Hudson University, was a rare, untouchable beauty. After his initial pursuits failed, his competitive streak kicked in. It took a year of relentless pursuit to finally win her over. The first year was pure bliss. But after Jacquelynn graduated, Tristan pressured her into giving up her dreams of graduate school. He wanted her kept like a pet, a caged songbird in his penthouse. From then on, Jacquelynn’s world shrunk until it only spun around him. Her gentle, introverted nature morphed into a fragile, timid insecurity. But instead of cherishing her, the scumbag grew bored of her compliance and started looking for cheap thrills elsewhere. Jacquelynn was an orphan. The massive wealth gap between them had already made her deeply insecure. Sensitive and quiet, she would only hide away and weep silently, never raising her voice at him. Meanwhile, Tristan stayed out all night, subjected her to emotional abuse and gaslighting, and let the tabloids run wild with his flings. Piece by piece, she fell into deep depression. Yet, she clung to the promise he once made, that he would give her a real home. Every time she fell into despair, she would remember that promise and hope again. Until today, when she showed him the positive pregnancy test. He had spat out the most venomous words imaginable. “Do you really think getting pregnant is enough to buy your way into the Lyndon family?” “Who even knows if it is mine? But hey, if you want to keep it, the Lyndon family can afford a bastard child.” Those cruel words broke her completely. After getting a quiet abortion, she returned to her dingy rented room, saw a headline about the Lyndon heir entering a hotel with some actress, and hanged herself. It was only after her death that the scumbag felt a shred of regret. Realizing she was the only one he ever loved, he drowned his sorrows in alcohol, found a waitress who looked like her as a substitute, and dragged himself through another toxic relationship before dying lonely amidst his cold mountain of cash. What an absolute psycho. Fortunately, I had arrived just in time to cut off the rest of those horrible words. But before I could even catch my breath, the system sounded an alarm. [Warning, Host! Jacquelynn is heading to the hospital right now for an abortion!] “Why is she being so reckless? What if she hurts herself?” I bolted out of the restroom. Guided by the system’s GPS tracker, I found Jacquelynn just as she was standing at the clinic’s billing counter. “Jacquelynn!” The familiar voice made her stiffen. She turned around slowly, her eyes wide with disbelief. She seemed to catch a glimpse of genuine panic and sorrow in my eyes. She must be imagining things. Why would I ever worry about her? I snatched the consent form from her trembling hands. Seeing the scheduled surgical abortion, my eyes stung with sudden heat. “Do you really care so little about our baby? Do you even care about me at all?” “Are you really this desperate to get rid of our child just so you can run off with your precious college mentor?” My sudden attack of reverse-psychology left Jacquelynn completely dazed. “What… what are you talking about?” “I give up,” I said, my voice cracking as I pulled her fragile frame into my arms, burying my face in the crook of her neck. A wave of raw emotion hit my throat. “I admit it. Every girl I brought around, every rumor… it was all an act. I just wanted to see if you actually cared. But you never said a word. You never asked. I wanted you to scream at me, to throw a tantrum, just so I’d know you still loved me!” I held her tighter, letting my voice tremble. “I surrender. Even if you do not love me, just stay with me. Let’s get married. Please.” The system could not help but chime in: [Damn, Host. You are a natural at gaslighting.] I did not have a choice. The host had crossed too many lines. Jacquelynn was the type to bottle up her pain, drowning in her own insecurities. Only a fierce, overwhelming confession could shatter her walls and give her a sense of security. A single tear slipped down her hair, dampening her collarbone. The warmth of it seemed to seep straight into her chest, filling her with a heavy, aching confusion. If what I said was true, then what were all those cold nights she endured? And what was this about her mentor? Before she could process any of it, I took her by the hand, led her out of the hospital, and buckled her into the passenger seat of my car. Jacquelynn finally blinked back her confusion. “Where are we going?” “To the courthouse. We are getting married.” The dam finally broke. Tears poured down her face, washing away weeks of silent agony. “Tristan, if you are only doing this because of the baby, I can still go back. You do not have to trap yourself.” The sudden hope was too beautiful. She was terrified that if she reached out to grab it, she would only fall from a higher cliff. “Go back? So you can run straight to that mentor of yours?” I let out a bitter, jealous laugh, keeping up the act. “Do you really love him that much?” This was the second time she had heard me mention her college mentor, Nolan. It was absurd, but a powerful intuition bloomed in her chest: there was a massive misunderstanding between us. A misunderstanding that had poisoned their entire relationship. She opened her mouth, but the words tangled in her throat. She did not even know where to begin.

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Before my boyfriend died in a tragic car accident, he signed an organ donor agreement. His heart was transplanted into Ethan Vance. I did everything I could to become Ethan’s secret lover, staying by his side. Every night, after he fell asleep, I would press my ear against his chest just to hear that familiar, racing heartbeat. Three years later, his childhood sweetheart came back. But how dare he use *that* heart—the one filled with memories of me—to love someone else! 0 I had been with Ethan for three whole years. Our relationship was an open secret in the office. “Mr. Vance asked me to book a venue and order a custom engagement ring yesterday!” “Lily, is Mr. Vance finally going to propose to you?” I pretended to be calm and waved them off, but my heart fluttered with secret anticipation. When I went into his office to grab some files, Ethan stopped me. “Anna is coming back to the country tomorrow. I’m going to propose to her.” Anna. Ethan’s childhood sweetheart. I hadn’t heard that name in three years. “Anna?” I murmured. Ethan, usually cold and distant, had a rare, soft glow in his dark, deep eyes when he spoke her name. “Clear my schedule for tomorrow. I’m going to the airport to pick her up.” It was the first time he had ever spoken to me in such a gentle tone, but it was for another woman. I quickly flipped through my tablet. “Mr. Vance, tomorrow morning’s shareholders’ meeting is extremely important…” “Cancel all of them. Did I not make myself clear?” Ethan instantly reverted to his usual cold, aloof self. His expression was blank. He wasn’t negotiating with me; he was commanding me. For the past three years, I thought he was just naturally cold and distant to everyone. But it turned out there was someone who could easily shake his soul. How far would he go for Anna? And what did I even mean to him? “I can arrange a private car to pick up Miss Sinclair. Tomorrow’s meeting is the result of six months of hard work by the business department, and it’s also my—” Before I could finish, Ethan’s cold voice cut me off, laced with suppressed anger. “Lily, you’re crossing the line.” The next day, Ethan didn’t show up at the office. The mess from the canceled meeting left me completely overwhelmed. I had to work overtime until 9 PM before I could finally head home. “Lily, sweetheart, happy birthday! Did you get some cake?” On the other side of the FaceTime call, my parents smiled warmly at me. I nodded, but a wave of bitter sadness washed over me. “What’s wrong? Did someone treat you badly? Your eyes are so red,” my mom asked, worry etching her face. I shook my head, about to say something sweet to comfort them, when loud, aggressive knocks banged against my front door. “Mom, Dad, someone’s at the door. I have to go.” I waved hastily and ended the call. As soon as I opened the door, a tall, heavy figure slumped against me. It was Ethan. He smelled of cold pine and expensive whiskey, a dizzying combination that made my own head spin. “Have you been drinking?” Before I could ask anything else, his face came down. He claimed my lips, capturing my breath with a fierce, commanding force that left no room for resistance. The kiss felt like a punishment, an outlet for his anger. Ethan was always like this. His dominance, madness, and passion only ever showed themselves in the dark, hidden hours of the night. … Late at night, the bedroom was a chaotic mess of discarded clothes. Ethan’s breathing was slow and steady. His long lashes cast soft shadows under his eyes, highlighting his sharp nose and sculpted jawline. Today was my birthday. He had come to me after all. I couldn’t help but reach out, gently tracing the outline of his chest, right where his heart beat. 0

Three years ago, Ethan took me to a high-end charity gala for the first time. I couldn’t drink, and after just a few sips of champagne, I was completely out of it. He personally drove me back to my apartment. I didn’t know if it was the alcohol stripping away my sanity or giving me reckless courage, but I clung to him and seduced him all night. The next morning, when we woke up, he left a black card on the nightstand. He silently got dressed, then politely asked, “Can I come back here again?” As if possessed, I nodded. And just like that, he kept coming back for three years. I leaned closer to his warm chest, listening to the steady, rhythmic *thump-thump* of his heart. It filled me with an unspeakable sense of peace. Just as I was about to drift off to sleep, a soft murmur drifted from above. “Anna, don’t leave me.” … “I’m heading to the office first. You can come in a bit later.” Half-awake, I heard Ethan’s deep, gravelly voice. I blinked open my eyes and saw him already fully dressed. “Let me make you some oatmeal first,” I offered weakly. Ethan quickly adjusted his tie. “No need. Anna is waiting for me at the office. We’re having breakfast together.” With that, he walked out and shut the door behind him. I sat frozen in bed, staring blankly at the door until my phone buzzed with a call from my assistant. Only then did I snap back to reality. When I arrived at the office, the atmosphere was visibly tense. My coworkers, who usually greeted me warmly, were giving me strange, sidelong glances. As I stepped out of the elevator, I could hear whispering behind my back. “Lily.” Just as I reached out to push open the door to the CEO’s office, my assistant stopped me. “What is it?” “Um… Mr. Vance is in his office having breakfast with another lady.” Her eyes darted around, looking incredibly uncomfortable. I forced a light smile, trying to act unfazed. “Well, it’s none of my business when Mr. Vance decides to have breakfast.” “Wait, Lily… aren’t you and Mr. Vance…” I handed her a thick stack of folders. “Focus on your work. Stop gossiping.” The whispers in the hallway died down, but through the slight crack in the office door, a sweet voice drifted out. “The guy who picked me up yesterday was just a friend. I had no idea he’d show up… Ethan, don’t be mad at me anymore, okay?” “I’m so hungry. Feed me this one.” The girl’s voice was soft, sugary, and laced with childish poutiness. Ethan, who was usually a man of few words, actually chuckled. “Once we’re married, you have to stay by my side and behave.” The sickeningly sweet exchange sparked another wave of murmurs among the nearby desks. “Does Mr. Vance have a new girl?” “What’s going to happen to Lily?” “New girl? I heard Lily was just the side chick all along.” “Oh my god, really? She’s so shameless.” … The next second, the office door swung open. Ethan frowned, his gaze cold. “If anyone has anything else to say, come in and say it to my face.” A petite girl peeked out from behind him. She had porcelain skin and a sweet, delicate doll-like face—completely different from my style. She looked at me, her eyes curving into a bright, innocent smile. “Ethan, is this Lily, your secretary?” 0

I stood up. Ethan’s gaze swept over me. His eyes held nothing but cold indifference, as if the man who had held me so passionately last night didn’t exist. “Yes.” His tone was detached. The sheer lack of emotion in his voice sent a shiver down my spine. “Lily, come in.” I followed them into the office. I stood in front of his desk. Anna was sitting comfortably on Ethan’s lap like a clingy girlfriend. They looked perfect together. Anyone looking at them would think they were a match made in heaven. I clenched my fists, biting my lip so hard I could taste copper, forcing myself to remain calm. “Lily, I don’t want any ridiculous rumors reaching Anna’s ears.” His first words to me felt like a slap in the face. Rumors… did he mean the gossip outside? So, he didn’t come out to defend me. He came out to protect Anna from hearing about *us*. And his visit to my apartment last night was probably just because he was jealous, thinking Anna had another man. I looked at the beautiful, delicate girl in his lap. Then I looked down at myself. We were nothing alike. I wasn’t even qualified to be her substitute. “Understood. I’ll handle it,” I said, turning to leave. But Anna’s sweet voice stopped me. “Ethan, the company seems so much fun! Can I work as your secretary too? Just like Lily.” My breath hitched. Would Ethan fire me to make room for her? I stood frozen, waiting for his answer. “Sure. You can sit right next to me and keep me company.” I let out a silent breath. At least… I could still stay near him. “Lily, you can go now.” The days that followed were pure torture. I had to watch Ethan and Anna walk in and out of the office together. Whenever Anna was around, Ethan’s eyes never lingered on me for even a second. She was cheerful, bubbly, and full of life. When they were together, even Ethan’s cold demeanor melted into something gentle. “Lily, get in here.” I walked into the office. Anna was sitting at his computer playing a video game. Ethan threw a contract onto the desk. “You’ve been working here for years. How do you still make such amateur mistakes?” I picked it up. This was the contract Anna had asked me for a few days ago. She had complained about being bored, saying she had nothing to do. Thinking she had studied abroad and could handle a basic agreement, I handed it to her. Now, looking at it, the terms were a mess, and even the formatting was completely wrong. I closed the folder. “I’ll revise it and bring it back.” I just wanted to get out of there. Being scolded in front of Anna made me feel utterly humiliated. “Oh!” Anna let out a soft gasp. “Ethan… about that contract… I wanted to help Lily out, but I messed up. I’m so stupid.” Ethan pulled her into his arms, his voice dripping with affection. “You did this? You’re so smart!” “Don’t blame Lily. It’s all my fault.” I let out a dry, silent laugh in my mind. A simple contract had become a stage for her little victim play. “You don’t need to do anything,” Ethan said softly. “Just sitting here makes me happy.” I forced down the lump in my throat and walked out quietly. Ethan’s words echoed in my ears like salt being rubbed into an open wound. I rushed into the restroom and splashed cold water on my face, trying to wake myself up. Suddenly, someone stood next to me. It was Anna. Her smile was still sweet, but her eyes held a trace of undisguised smugness. “Lily, are you okay? I didn’t know Ethan would raise his voice at you… He’s always so gentle with me.” She wasn’t lying. Ethan was indeed infinitely patient and gentle with her. 0

I didn’t say a word and walked back to my desk. Anna seemed to purposely leave the office door slightly open. “Ethan, Lily looked really upset just now.” “Whether she’s happy or not has nothing to do with me,” Ethan’s voice carried a heavy tone of annoyance. “If she can’t do her job, she can pack her bags and leave!” To Ethan, I was absolutely nothing. As I was fixing the mess Anna left behind, my assistant tiptoed over. “Lily, everyone is in the conference room. We’re just waiting for you.” This was the first meeting I hadn’t prepared myself. “That concludes this week’s business report,” the department head said, carefully closing the presentation. The atmosphere in the room was suffocating. Ethan sat at the head of the table, his arms crossed, eyes closed as if he were resting. “I expect all inappropriate gossip in this office to stop immediately.” Everyone knew exactly what he was talking about. “Especially some people—know your place. Don’t make assumptions you shouldn’t be making.” He might as well have called me out by name. “Ethan.” After the meeting adjourned, Ethan walked ahead. I called out to him. He paused but didn’t turn around. Even looking at me seemed like a waste of his time. I had truly overvalued myself in his heart. “Why did you have to call a company-wide meeting just to say that?” I wasn’t ready to let it go. To make me leave, he was willing to humiliate me in front of the entire company. “Anna was upset by the rumors.” With that, he walked away, disappearing down the corridor. Fine. Wonderful. But how could he use *that* heart to love another woman? The night grew deeper.

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On my birthday, I made a wish. I wished that Ethan and I could finally have a real date, just the two of us. The next second, the cake was flipped onto the floor. The unlit candles were crushed into the creamy mess. My best friend, Chloe, wiped her tears and asked in a shaking voice if I hated her for ruining my night. Ethan gently stroked her hair, looking at her with pure heartbreak before glaring at me. “You know Chloe just went through a bad breakup, Hazel. Why did you have to bring up a private date right now?” “She’s going through so much. Can’t you just yield to her for once?” I stared blankly at the ruined cake on the floor. It was the cake I had stood in line for three hours to buy. Ever since Chloe broke up with her boyfriend a year ago, my romantic dinners with Ethan had turned into group hangouts. Our custom promise rings had turned into a set of three “friendship rings.” Even our wedding, which was supposed to happen a year ago, had been put on hold because Ethan was afraid the wedding atmosphere would trigger Chloe’s depression. For Chloe’s sake, I had stepped back again and again. But Ethan always thought it wasn’t enough. He acted as if I should hand her the entire world. As my tears dripped onto the ruined cake, I finally made up my mind. I would let Chloe have this wish. I would give Ethan to her. As for the rest of my life, I wouldn’t waste another second of it on them.

As I stood up to leave, Ethan scoffed. “Are you throwing another tantrum, Hazel?” “Making such a big deal over a stupid birthday wish.” I didn’t answer him. I just scooped up a bit of stray frosting from my fingertip and put it in my mouth. It was sweet. The pastry chef at that bakery had trained in France, and their desserts were famous. I had waited in line for three hours for this cake. During those three hours, Chloe had grown impatient. She had clung to Ethan’s arm, whining that her heels hurt and asking him to massage her feet. “Ethan, if it weren’t to celebrate Hazel’s birthday, I would never put myself through this!” Ethan had looked at her with pure adoration, thanking her endlessly for being there. Then, without even looking back at me, he said, “Just stay in line, Hazel. I’m taking Chloe to the arcade nearby.” My voice had caught in my throat, but I didn’t stop them. When I finally got the cake after three hours, I excitedly brought it over to share. But Ethan only glanced at it and frowned. “Don’t you know Chloe hates this flavor?” “You only think about yourself, don’t you?” The smile froze on my face. I felt incredibly humiliated. It wasn’t until I promised to buy Chloe another cake later that they finally smiled again. And now, my actual birthday wish had caused Ethan to slam the cake onto the ground. He looked at me impatiently, giving orders like a boss. “That wish is impossible anyway.” “Apologize to Chloe. We’ll go buy you another cake and you can make a different wish.” I bit my lip so hard I could taste blood. “I won’t apologize.” I didn’t think wanting a private date with my own boyfriend was a crime. Seeing me shake my head, Ethan’s face darkened. Chloe tugged at Ethan’s sleeve. “Forget it, Ethan. It’s all my fault.” “I rely on you guys too much. I’m the reason you don’t have any alone time.” Ethan gently wiped her tears, his eyes filled with tenderness. “Your toxic ex really messed you up. Don’t blame yourself, Chloe.” Then, he turned to me, his voice dripping with disappointment. “Hazel, can’t you have some empathy for your best friend?” But I had already given her all my empathy. When Chloe said she had bipolar disorder and couldn’t bear to be alone after her breakup, she started crashing our dates. Our romantic candlelit dinners became three-person hangouts. At those dinners, the two of them would laugh and talk endlessly about their college days, leaving me sitting there like a ghost. On our anniversary, when Ethan was about to put a promise ring on my finger, Chloe’s eyes welled with tears as she talked about how she used to have a ring too. So, Ethan ordered an identical ring for her, calling it a “symbol of their friendship.” I had tolerated Chloe for so long. But today, the one time I asked for a date with just the two of us, Chloe cried, and Ethan lost his temper. It was as if I had committed a mortal sin. But I was the one who was Ethan’s girlfriend. The years of suppressed pain and humiliation finally overflowed, tears streaming down my cheeks. I choked out, “Ethan, do you even remember what you promised me on this exact day last year?” One year ago, on my birthday. Ethan had gone down on one knee and promised we would be married soon. Hearing this, Ethan looked startled. His first instinct was to shift his body, shielding Chloe behind him. After a long pause, his mouth opened and closed, but only a few words came out. “Just… wait a little longer.” I let out a bitter laugh as hot tears ran down my face. I wasn’t going to wait anymore. My grandmother, Rose, was really sick, and her only wish was to see me walk down the aisle and settle down. I had promised her I would get married this year. Since Chloe couldn’t survive without crashing our dates, then I would be the one to leave.

I went back to our apartment alone. My phone buzzed. Chloe had posted on her Snapchat story. In the photo, Ethan was cutting a cake, and Chloe was wearing a paper crown, flashing a peace sign at the camera. The caption read: The happiest birthday girl today! Dozens of our mutual friends were commenting “Happy Birthday!” underneath. Chloe replied to every single one of them with a “thank you.” She didn’t mention a single word about whose birthday it actually was. Feeling sick to my stomach, I locked my phone and started packing my bags. My grandmother was sick, and I had already planned to go back to my hometown to take care of her for a while. Only now, my temporary trip had become a permanent departure. When Ethan walked through the door, he had a smile on his face, but it vanished the moment he saw me. He handed me a box. “I bought you another cake.” “No one else is here this time. You can wish for whatever you want.” It sounded sweet, but through the transparent box, I could see the cake inside was a complete mess. It was the leftover cake from Chloe’s Snapchat story, with melting whipped cream sloppily scraped together on a plate. And it was orange-flavored. I couldn’t even force a fake smile. I looked up at Ethan. “I’m severely allergic to oranges.” The last time I accidentally ate an orange, my body broke out in hives, and I passed out. Ethan had been woken up by my burning skin, and he had carried me to the ER in his arms, sobbing the entire night. Back then, his eyes were bloodshot with worry. But now, he could remember that Chloe disliked a certain flavor, yet he forgot that oranges could literally kill me. Ethan rubbed his ear awkwardly, raising his voice to hide his embarrassment. “Then just don’t eat it. Why do you have to be so difficult on your birthday?” “Why can’t you have a sweet temper like Chloe?” I had nothing left to say. I turned back to my packing. Chloe had a “sweet temper” because everyone catered to her. Whenever she didn’t like something, someone else would fix it for her. First it was her parents, then it was me, and now it was Ethan. Of course she had a sweet temper. Ethan finally noticed my suitcases lined up by the door. He frowned. “Are you going to see your grandmother now? Is she really that sick?” For a second, my heart softened. I didn’t expect him to remember me mentioning her illness. “The doctor said…” Before I could finish, Ethan cut me off impatiently. “Perfect timing. Chloe’s toxic ex-boyfriend found her place again, and she’s looking for a new apartment.” “Make sure you clear out your room completely so she can move in here for a while.” My heart instantly plummeted into a freezing abyss. Looking at Ethan’s deadpan, serious face, I swallowed my tears. “Whatever you want.” I was leaving anyway. Even if Chloe lived here for the rest of her life, it had nothing to do with me anymore. Ethan looked up in surprise, a rare flash of confusion on his face. “Hazel, since when did you become so generous?” I blinked slowly. “My opinion doesn’t matter anyway. It’s easier to just go along with what you want.” Ethan’s face went sour. He let out a cold scoff and ignored me, pulling out his phone. From the corner of my eye, I saw him texting Chloe. Chloe sent a message: Thanks for the huge cake, boss! followed by a cute, pouting bitmoji. Ethan sent back a blowing-kiss emoji. If I didn’t know they were my boyfriend and my best friend, I would have assumed they were a couple. I let out a sudden laugh. Ethan heard it and immediately locked his screen. “When I have time, I’ll come visit you and your grandmother,” he said softly, as if he hadn’t just been flirting with my best friend. I nodded. “Okay.” I acted as if I didn’t know that “when I have time” meant “never.”

The day before I was set to leave, I received an unexpected message. It was from the bridal boutique. The assistant told me that the custom wedding dress I had fallen in love with six months ago had finally arrived. My fingers hovered over the screen. My mind drifted back to six months ago. After Ethan promised to marry me, I had been so excited. I spent every night planning—the venue, the flowers, the dress… But Ethan’s patience had slowly worn thin. Once, when I tried to hold up a tuxedo sketch next to him, he had shoved me away impatiently. “Chloe just lost her relationship, Hazel! She’s incredibly fragile right now. Planning a wedding in front of her is just rubbing salt in her wounds!” “We can talk about the wedding later!” I had been silenced. I never brought up the wedding again. But I had secretly put down a deposit on that dress. The assistant said it was a highly sought-after designer piece that required months of pre-ordering. I thought by the time the dress arrived, Ethan would finally be ready to marry me. My phone buzzed again with another text from the assistant. “I am so sorry, sweetie. Another lady just saw the dress in our shop and fell in love with it.” “She’s offering to pay extra to rent it for a pre-wedding photoshoot today.” Along with the text, she sent a short video. In the video, a girl was twirling in my dream wedding dress, and a man was watching her with absolute adoration. The man said, “Chloe, you are the most beautiful bride. I am honored to be your groom.” I froze. The girl was my “heartbroken” best friend, Chloe. And the man in the groom’s tuxedo was my boyfriend, Ethan. So, he wasn’t against wearing a wedding suit. He just preferred wearing it with Chloe. Bitterness flooded my chest. I wiped a tear, feeling a sudden surge of cold rebellion. I transferred the remaining balance of the dress to the boutique immediately and texted back: “I do not agree to rent it to her.” “Because she is a homewrecker trying to steal my relationship.” Within seconds, my phone rang. Ethan’s voice boomed through the speaker, furious. “Hazel! How could you be so malicious and slander an innocent girl?” “Apologize to Chloe right now, or I’ll have my lawyer sue you!” I let out a cold laugh. “Do you swear to God she hasn’t crossed the line in our relationship?” Ethan hadn’t realized I was the owner of the dress. He choked for a second before finding his footing again. “Chloe was just sad because she felt like she’d never get married. She just wanted to borrow the dress to take some photos with me as a comforting gesture!” “Hazel Miller, she is your best friend! How could you spread such disgusting rumors about her?” Not a single explanation. Only anger and accusations directed at me. “You’re right. It’s my fault,” I said, feeling a genuine sense of clarity. “I shouldn’t have asked my boyfriend for a private date. I shouldn’t have cared that my boyfriend was taking wedding photos with my best friend.” “And most of all… I shouldn’t have stayed with you.” “Let’s break up, Ethan.” I said every word clearly. It felt like my heart was being ripped out of my chest. It hurt, but the cancer was finally gone. Ethan went silent. The line was so quiet I could hear both of our ragged breathing. Suddenly, Chloe’s voice squealed in the background. “Hazel! Please don’t break up with Ethan! This is all my fault!” “I’ll just end my life! Then you two can be happy!” A loud scream echoed through the phone, followed by the sound of the device crashing to the floor. Ethan was screaming Chloe’s name in pure panic. Then, his voice came back on the line, dripping with venom. “Hazel Miller! If anything happens to Chloe, I will make you pay!” A long time passed before the shop assistant carefully picked up the phone and whispered to me, “Um… the lady just hurt herself…”

The hospital smelled strongly of bleach and rubbing alcohol. My hand trembled as I reached for the handle of the hospital room door, but then I heard whispering from inside. Chloe’s voice sounded completely normal, even playful. “Ethan, your plan was brilliant.” “Now that I’ve ‘triggered’ my illness, Hazel won’t care about the wedding dress photoshoot anymore!” Ethan let out a soft chuckle. “If she weren’t so incredibly petty, I wouldn’t have had to come up with this.” “When she gets here, just pretend you’re unconscious. Let me handle her.” Chloe giggled happily and snuggled into Ethan’s chest. I stood outside the door, my face completely pale. I had seen Chloe during a real manic episode before. The day her toxic ex-boyfriend was banging on her door, she had called me, sobbing in pure terror. I had practically abandoned a major presentation at work and rushed to her place holding a kitchen knife. When I held her in my arms, her hair was a mess, and she was shaking like a leaf, gripping my hands. And now, she was using that traumatic memory to play me. And my boyfriend was the mastermind behind it. All the strength drained from my body, and I collapsed onto the bench in the hallway. My phone screen lit up. It was a FaceTime call from my grandmother, assisted by her nurse. “Hazel, look at me! I can see you…” The sweet old lady smiled, showing her missing teeth. “Don’t worry about my illness. I’m sorry to make you travel all this way to see me.” “Is Ethan coming with you?” Her eyes sparkled with hope. “Am I going to see my sweet granddaughter get married?” My throat tight, I couldn’t squeeze out a single word. The door to the hospital room swung open. Ethan walked out. On the screen, my grandmother recognized him and happily called out his name. Without even looking, Ethan snatched my phone, swiped to end the call, and grabbed my arm, shaking me. “How do you even have the nerve to show your face here?” “If you hadn’t pushed her, would Chloe have hurt herself?!”

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