Category: English

The day I found out I was pregnant, I was scrolling through my social media feed when I saw a post from my best friend. It was a picture of a pregnancy test, two bold pink lines on stark white, set against the backdrop of a hotel bedsheet. Her caption read: “Not only can he get the ‘job’ done, but he’s a sharpshooter too. What a man!” Then, she added a comment on her own post: “Mr. A’s skills are no joke, talk about efficiency! He knocked me up on the same day as his wife!” The trust fund kids in our circle were always making crude jokes; we all had a wild sense of humor. I figured she was just riffing on my own pregnancy, using my husband, Alex, as the butt of the joke to be funny. I even tossed her a ‘like.’ It wasn’t until the day my water broke that the joke curdled in my stomach. I was rushed to the hospital, only to find out that Jennifer had also been admitted to the maternity ward. We gave birth on the very same day. The moment I saw them, the two newborns, lying side-by-side in the nursery, my world froze. A chill shot up from the soles of my feet to the crown of my head. They were identical. The other baby’s face was a perfect, mirrored image of my son’s. But what truly shattered my heart was the patient chart hanging on the bassinet. In the space for the father’s signature, I saw the familiar, flamboyant script of my husband’s name: Alex. … I stood in that hallway for what felt like an eternity. My hand braced against the wall, my knuckles white. Blood from my IV line had seeped out, staining a small patch of my hospital gown crimson. Alex. I had looked at that signature for eight years. I could recognize it with my eyes closed. The same hand that had signed my medical chart had signed Jennifer’s. My room was 3012. Hers was 3015. Three doors down. The distance between a wife and a mistress. I dragged my body, still bleeding from childbirth, back to my room. Each step was a dizzying, weightless stumble. The second I collapsed onto the bed, my phone screen lit up. Another post from Jennifer. It was a selfie of her in her hospital bed, lipstick freshly applied, a smug little smile playing on her lips. The caption: “Delivered a healthy 7lb 2oz baby boy! VIP delivery suite + 24/7 private nurse + a flood of flowers and cash~ My benefactor knows how to spoil a girl~ Bet you’re all jealous~” The comment section was already on fire. Jessica replied: [Give it a rest, Jennifer. Now you’re making up a rich benefactor for your baby? Who’s the dad, for real?] Jennifer shot back instantly: [Wouldn’t you like to know~ Go on, guess~ Let’s just say he’s got a hundred times more money than your husband~] Lauren chimed in: [Jennifer, seriously, nine out of ten things that come out of your mouth are BS.] Jennifer: [Yep, yep, you’re all right. I made it all up~ Believe whatever you want~] I used to be one of them, laughing in the comments. “You’re full of it again.” “If you ever landed a sugar daddy, Jennifer, I’d be the last person to believe it.” Because that was Jennifer. Ever since I’d met her in college, she’d been a pathological liar. She’d eat cheap takeout and claim a private chef had come to her house. She’d buy fifty-cent earrings from some knock-off website and swear they were designer custom-made. If a new guy added her on an app, she’d brag that some tech billionaire was trying to get with her. Everyone knew Jennifer was a compulsive braggart. No one ever took her seriously. Including me. So when she made that post about getting knocked up, I just assumed she was clout-chasing, spinning another one of her tall tales. I laughed and gave it a like. The door creaked open. Alex walked in carrying a bowl of nourishing soup, his apron splattered with broth. He set the bowl down and leaned over to kiss my forehead. “You’re awake?” “The doctor said you lost a little too much blood. You need to rest, stay in bed. I’ve been simmering this for you for two hours. Drink it while it’s hot.” He pulled a chair to the bedside, his eyes red-rimmed as he took my hand. “I just went to see our son. Six pounds, eight ounces. The nurse said he has your eyes.” I just stared at him. For eight years, this was the face I woke up to. The man who’d have dinner ready when I got home from work, the one who always backed down first after an argument. I had always thought I was the luckiest woman in the world. Until six hours ago, when I’d pushed a child into this world with every ounce of my strength, only to discover another baby, a carbon copy of my son, in a delivery room just down the hall. “Alex, where were you just now?” His hand, holding the soup spoon, paused for a fraction of a second. “I went down to the pharmacy to pick up your postpartum medication. And I stopped by the nursery to see the baby on my way back.” On the way back. My lips pressed into a thin, hard line. He sat by my bed for a long time that night. Every hour, he would get up to help me turn over, check my temperature, and change the sanitary pad. At 3:17 AM, he thought I was asleep. His footsteps were light, but I counted them. Enough to take him three doors to the left. A door opened. And then it closed. 2 The next morning, Alex left to handle my discharge paperwork. I waited until his footsteps faded down the hall before I slipped out of bed. His jacket was draped over the back of a chair. In the inside pocket was a black phone. His personal phone was white. I always knew he had two. He told me the other one was for work emergencies, for important clients he couldn’t afford to miss. I believed him for eight years. My fingers trembled as I typed in the passcode. He used my birthday for everything. 0714. This phone was no different. The screen unlocked, and his messaging app popped up. The pinned chat at the top had a pink dinosaur as its profile picture. The contact name: My Jennifer. The last message was from 3:21 AM. [What took you so long? The baby just woke up, and I can’t handle him by myself.] His reply: [Be good, babe. I couldn’t get away from Annie. I’ll come earlier next time.] She sent back a cute, pouting emoji. Then: [So when are you going to tell her? You promised me.] He never replied to that one. I scrolled up. A month ago: Jennifer: [You sent me another bouquet of baby’s breath today. What if your wife saw it~] Alex: [I told her they were for a client.] Jennifer: [Hahaha you’re such a good liar.] Three months ago: Jennifer: [Hubby, I’m craving hot pot. Come pick me up after work.] Alex: [I’ll tell Annie I’m working late. I’ll be there at seven.] Six months ago: Alex: [Jennifer, I can’t leave Annie. I owe her too much. But the thought of you being my secret forever is killing me.] Jennifer: [Then divorce her.] Alex: [I can’t.] Jennifer: [Then don’t say crap like that. It’s pathetic. I don’t care about a title anyway. As long as I have you.] Below that was a voice message. My finger hovered over the play button before I finally pressed it. Alex’s voice, so tender it felt like a knife twisting in my chest, filled the silence. “Jennifer, Annie’s out of town on business today. I’m coming over. Wait for me, we can cook dinner together.” I set the phone down, my hands shaking so violently it took a full minute for them to still. Then, I opened Jennifer’s social media feed. I scrolled back, past yesterday’s post about her “benefactor.” Post by post. Two years ago: “Mr. A bought me a necklace~ Guess how much? At least ten grand~ Don’t believe me? Don’t care~” My comment was still there, right underneath: [You must have dreamt up that necklace, babe. Time to wake up.] A year and a half ago: “Mr. A said he’s buying me a condo so I can move out of my crappy rental~ Just putting this brag out into the universe~” Lauren’s comment: [Can’t you come up with something new? Didn’t you say ‘Mr. A’ was taking you to the Maldives last month? What happened with that?] Jennifer’s reply: [He had to leave early so his wife wouldn’t find out~ Hahahaha~] I remember seeing that and thinking it was hilarious. Classic Jennifer. The Queen of BS. Only a fool would believe her. A year ago, Valentine’s Day: “Thanks for the $7,700 Venmo, Mr. A~ Pretty sure the wifey didn’t get this kind of treatment~ Tsk tsk tsk~” I had replied with a single eye-roll emoji. That day, Alex had sent me $5,200. And I thought I was the special one. I kept scrolling. The designer bags, the expensive shoes, the photos from fancy restaurants—I had laughed at every single one. Because it was Jennifer. And you couldn’t believe a word Jennifer said. But now, holding Alex’s second phone, I looked at the transaction history. Twelve thousand dollars for that necklace. An eighty-thousand-dollar down payment on a condo, registered in Jennifer’s name. And a Valentine’s Day transfer for exactly seven thousand, seven hundred dollars, matching her post to the cent. She had never been bragging at all. Every post was her telling the truth, right out in the open. And I was one of the few fools who believed it was all a joke. I placed the phone back in his jacket pocket. Then I lay back down on the bed and closed my eyes. Tears soaked silently into the pillow. 3 A week later, I was discharged. Alex came to pick me up, an infant car seat already installed in the back. I held our son as I got in. He watched me in the rearview mirror, his smile gentle. “I’ll make you some ribs when we get home. You need to build your strength back up.” I didn’t say a word. When we got home, the living room was filled with balloons and bouquets of fresh flowers. Alex’s parents were standing at the door, beaming. “Oh, our little grandson is home! Annie, you’ve worked so hard, thank you, thank you.” His mother took the baby from me, cooing over him. His father clapped Alex on the shoulder. “You’re a father now. Take good care of your wife and son from now on.” It was a picture of perfect domestic bliss. I sat on the sofa, watching them pass the baby around, waiting until all their attention was focused on him. Then, I took the black phone out of my bag and placed it on the coffee table. I cleared the remote. I moved the water glass. I pushed aside the fruit bowl. Until only the phone remained, stark and alone in the center of the table. The room fell silent. The moment Alex saw the phone, his hand, holding a platter of ribs, froze in mid-air. “Annie—” “Your chat history with Jennifer goes back three years.” My voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “You call her ‘babe,’ she calls you ‘honey.’ You said you owe me too much to divorce me, but you couldn’t stand the thought of her being your secret lover.” “Your son was in room 3015 for four days. You went to see him at three in the morning, every single night, and then came back to me and pretended nothing had happened.” The platter slipped from his grasp, crashing to the floor. Ribs and sauce scattered across the polished wood. His mother clapped a hand over her mouth. His father’s expression darkened. Alex scrambled forward, trying to grab my hand. “Annie, I can explain. Jennifer, she—” “Explain what? Explain the twelve-thousand-dollar necklace? Or the down payment on her condo? Or maybe you can explain why her Valentine’s gift was two and a half thousand dollars more than mine?” His body went limp, and he crumpled to his knees on the floor. “Annie, my feelings for you are real, I never lied about that—” “And the baby in room 3015, the one who looks exactly like your son, that’s real too.” His mother panicked, shoving the baby into his father’s arms and rushing over to me. “Annie, honey, calm down. Let’s just talk this through—” “Mom, your son cheated on me with my best friend and had a child with her. Do you really think this is something we can ‘talk through’?” Her lips trembled. She spun around and glared at Alex. “You—how could you do this! How could you do this to Annie!” She raised her hand and slapped him hard across the face. But her next words made my heart sink into a pit of ice. “So… what about Jennifer’s baby? That’s our family’s blood too, isn’t it?” I looked down and let out a small, bitter laugh. I knew she didn’t mean it maliciously. But those words hurt more than Alex’s affair. The doorbell rang. I went to open it. Jennifer was standing on the doorstep, wearing a floral sundress and holding a basket of imported fruit. She saw me and froze, then forced a smile. “Annie! I came to see you and the baby—” “Jennifer.” Her smile faltered. “Everything you posted… it was all real, wasn’t it?” “You were never bragging.” “You just knew nobody would believe the truth.” The fruit basket slipped from her hand, thudding softly against the doorframe. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. I turned and walked back into the living room. “Alex, I want a divorce.”

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1 My mother had gone to all the trouble of making me a pot of homemade chicken soup. On her way to my apartment to deliver it, she got into a massive car wreck. That very night, she was wheeled straight into the ICU. Meanwhile, I was throwing an absolute rager. The video of me popping champagne bottles hit the internet, and the public outrage was instantaneous. “Holy shit, what kind of psycho does this? Did a dog eat your conscience? Your mom is fighting for her life in the ICU, and you’re popping bottles? Even animals treat their parents better!” “The greatest tragedy of your mother’s life was giving birth to a piece of trash like you.” “Hell is empty because all the demons are walking among us. I hope you rot.” I completely ignored the endless stream of venomous comments scrolling across my screen. I swayed my hips to the deafening bass, lifting my crystal flute to the camera. “Come on, drink up!” The party music was shaking the floorboards. I had just topped off my glass when my phone started ringing off the hook again. It was my older sister, Tina. I answered it with a heavy sigh. Through the speaker, her agonizing, ear-piercing wails flooded my ear. “Harper! Mom is gone! She left us!” So loud. I pulled the phone away from my face, deeply annoyed, and rubbed my earlobe. “Alright, she’s dead. It happens. You guys need to lighten up.” “Life and death are just a roll of the dice. Everyone dies eventually. It was bound to happen sooner or later.” “You ungrateful little bitch, are those the words of a human being?” The voice on the other end suddenly swapped to my father, roaring with absolute rage. “You get your ass back here right now and see your mother one last time!” “Hard pass.” I swirled the golden bubbles in my glass. “Why would I go back? It’s bad vibes.” “I’m having a great time over here. If you don’t have anything else to say, I’m hanging up.” To avoid their endless, nagging calls, I just powered my phone off entirely. But less than a minute later, Tina went live on her social media. The background was a somber funeral parlor. Her eyes were puffy and red. She cried to the camera, begging me to come home, and then played the audio recording of the phone call we just had. In an instant, the headline ‘Mother Dies, Cold-Blooded Daughter Refuses to Attend Funeral’ skyrocketed to the top of the trending charts. It completely ignited the fury of the internet. “It happens? Are those even the words of a human being? Your mother worked her fingers to the bone raising you, and this is how you repay her?” “The sister is having a total breakdown, the dad is aging ten years from grief, and you’re just casually sipping champagne? Wow, this is the first time I’ve felt actual physical pleasure from cursing someone out.” “Everyone memorize this psycho’s face. If you ever see her in public, cross the street. You don’t want to be collateral damage when lightning strikes her down.” “Your dad should have thrown you out the window the day you were born. Doxx her, expose her, make sure she’s totally canceled. She shouldn’t be able to show her face in society ever again.” People even started tagging the corporate HR accounts of major companies on LinkedIn. “Take a good look at this girl. If she treats her own flesh and blood like this, do you really want to hire her? Would she have any loyalty to your company or your clients? I will personally boycott any brand that hires this sociopath.” Thousands of people followed suit. The online mob mentality reached a boiling point. My direct messages and voicemails were instantly maxed out, overflowing with the most vile, graphic death threats imaginable. Right around then, a close friend of mine couldn’t sit back and watch anymore. He stepped up to defend me online. “Everyone, please calm down. The situation isn’t what you think it is. There has to be a hidden reason for this.” Then, he posted a massive thread of bank transfer receipts, showing all the money I had sent my family over the years. “Look at the dates and the amounts. Every single nice thing in their house was bought by Harper. The fridge, the washer, the AC unit, even the solid gold bracelet her mom wears. Harper bought all of it using her college scholarships and money from working three part-time jobs.” “Since the day she left for college, she hasn’t taken a single dime from her parents. Does a person like that really sound like the monster you’re all making her out to be?” 2 The furious internet mob wasn’t buying a single word of it. “How much did she pay you to run PR for her, you corporate shill?” “Wow, your Photoshop skills are top-tier. Faking bank records now?” “Birds of a feather flock together. Get off the internet. Even if she played the good daughter in the past, her actions right now prove she’s a total sociopath. You can’t wash this clean.” Within hours, his social media accounts were completely overrun and hacked. Right at the peak of the outrage, Tina, who had been streaming from the funeral parlor all day, suddenly had an emotional collapse. Looking directly into the lens, she wailed in absolute agony. “Harper, please come home! Just come home!” “If you’re hurting, just talk to me! I’ll help you fix it!” The very next second, her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed in a dead faint right in front of the casket. The stream erupted into chaos. Dad rushed into the frame, scooping Tina up in his arms, tears streaming down his weathered face. “My sweet girl! Oh, my poor, sweet girl!” “She’s been sitting by her mother’s side day and night, refusing to sleep. She didn’t want me to lift a finger because of my bad back.” “She washed her mother, emptied her bedpans, and took all the burden without a single complaint. She was so worried about her little sister handling the grief that she literally exhausted herself into a coma!” The internet ate it up. “I’m literally sobbing right now. Tina is such an angel.” “She is the definition of a devoted daughter. This is so heartbreaking!” “Please get some rest, Tina. Your mom is watching from heaven, and she wouldn’t want you to ruin your health.” “My heart aches for her. Look at Tina, and then look at that animal of a sister. The difference is night and day.” Watching the clips roll in, a harsh laugh tore from my throat. I casually typed a reply in the comment section. “Stop faking it. You’re so dramatic.” Immediately after, I posted a brand new update on my main feed. “The party continues! We’re going on a seven-day bender! As long as I’m breathing, the music doesn’t stop!” Attached was a high-res photo of a fresh row of Dom Pérignon bottles waiting to be popped. That single post was like pouring a bucket of ice water into a vat of boiling oil. The internet absolutely detonated. It was the final straw that snapped whatever tiny shred of sanity the public had left. “Seven days? Isn’t that the traditional mourning vigil? This ungrateful bitch is using her own mother’s memorial week as an excuse to get wasted?” “Holy shit, this creature doesn’t deserve to breathe oxygen. I’m praying for karma to strike her down tonight.” “They say the spirits of the dead visit their families during the vigil. I hope her mom’s ghost comes back and haunts the hell out of this absolute monster. She is the scum of the earth.” Overnight, Tina’s reputation as the ultimate tragic, loving daughter reached national news. Her follower count skyrocketed into the millions. The next morning, dressed entirely in black mourning clothes, she showed up outside my apartment complex. She had a live stream going and a massive banner in her hands. The banner read in bold, blood-red letters. Harper, Please Come Home. She stood on the sidewalk, screaming up at my window through tears. “Harper, I’m begging you! Please just open the door! Mom is gone. You have to come say goodbye to her!” “Think about everything Mom did for you! We were so poor growing up, but whenever we had anything good to eat, Mom wouldn’t touch a single bite. She saved it all for you.” “She lied and said she wasn’t hungry, just so you could have a full stomach! Remember when you had that awful fever? Mom stayed awake for three straight nights holding you. You were her entire world, and in the end…” Tina choked back a perfectly timed sob, wiping her cheeks. “In the end, she died because she was trying to bring you dinner! Harper, how can you be this cruel? She loved you so much, are you really going to let her cross over with a broken heart?” The chat in her live stream was moving so fast it was a blur. And it wasn’t just the internet anymore. A massive, angry mob had gathered right outside my building. “Don’t cry, Tina! We’ve got your back!” “Someone start a GoFundMe for Tina so she can sue this ungrateful brat. I’ve literally gone through a whole box of tissues watching this. Tina is too pure for this world.” “Get out here and face us, you coward!” The chanting down below was getting louder by the second. I smirked. They really wanted to put on a show, didn’t they? Fine. I’ll give them a front-row seat. 3 I walked over and threw the window wide open. “Are you done acting yet? You look incredibly ugly when you cry.” “Attend a vigil? Ugh, no thanks. It’s bad luck.” “It’s not bad luck! Mom would never hold this against you! Just come home, please!” Seeing me finally respond, Tina looked like she had grabbed onto a lifeline, shaking her head frantically. I scoffed, cutting her off completely. “I really didn’t want to go. But since you came all the way down here to beg me, I guess I can make a concession.” “Tell you what, I’ll send Diesel in my place. That seems pretty fitting.” I put two fingers to my lips and let out a sharp whistle. A massive, sleek black Doberman trotted out from the living room. I reached down and patted his head. “Go on, Diesel. Head downstairs and mourn your mother.” “Woof!” Diesel barked happily, his tail wagging as if he completely understood the assignment. “What’s wrong, Tina? You don’t look happy.” “You…” Tina stared up at me, the color completely draining from her face. She looked like she had just been slapped. I gave her a slow, mocking smile. Then, I glanced down at my phone. The comment section was a literal warzone. I let out an exaggerated sigh. “And as for the rest of you brain-dead keyboard warriors… is this really all you do with your lives?” “You sit around all day with nothing better to do than obsess over a stranger’s family drama. You are a bunch of absolute failures in the real world, desperately trying to feel morally superior on the internet. Pathetic.” “If you all love attending funerals so much, why don’t you go? You can carpool with my dog. It’ll be a blast.” The live stream chat literally froze for a solid second. And then, it exploded like a nuclear bomb. “WHAT THE FUCK! Did I hear that right? Not only is she sending a dog to her mom’s funeral, she’s actively insulting us? She has the nerve to talk down to us?!” “?????” “Holy shit, she is completely unhinged. I can’t take this anymore. I’m calling the police.” “Do it! I’m reporting her too! If she doesn’t end up behind bars, there is no justice in this world.” I watched in real-time as dozens of people bragged about dialing 911. A genuine smile finally broke across my face. But this wasn’t quite enough. I turned around and grabbed a heavy plastic bucket I had prepared earlier. It was sealed tight. I dragged it to the window, looking down at the furious mob. “You guys might want to step back,” I called out sweetly. “I’d hate for there to be collateral damage.” With one massive heave, I tipped the bucket over the ledge. A tidal wave of rancid, fermented garbage sludge and raw sewage plummeted directly onto Tina’s head. Splash. The overwhelming stench of pure, rotting decay hit the air instantly. “Ahhhhh!” Tina let out a piercing, hysterical shriek that cracked in the middle. But she recovered terrifyingly fast, a flash of pure, murderous hatred burning in her eyes. She was still trying to stay in character. “Harper, how could you be so immature? If you hate me that much, just take it out on me!” “Why do you have to drag innocent bystanders into this?” Watching her stand there dripping in filth, trying to act like a saint, I actually burst out laughing. “Sister, I think you need to go home and take a shower. You’ve always been full of crap, but now you actually smell like it.” Right on cue, the wail of police sirens cut through the neighborhood, coming to a screeching halt below my building. “You in the window! You are suspected of public endangerment and assault!” an officer barked through a megaphone. “Cease your actions immediately and come down with your hands visible!” “No problem, Officer! I’m fully cooperating!” I raised my hands with a bright smile and shouted back. The walk from my building to the squad car was a gauntlet. People were screaming in my face. Some people even threw rotten eggs and garbage at me. “Sociopath! Animal!” Even as the police were shoving me into the back of the cruiser, some guy was chasing the car with a brick, trying to smash the window. The internet was practically throwing a parade. “Serves her right! This absolute menace should have been locked up days ago.” “She is a cancer on society. Give her the maximum sentence. People like her are a danger to everyone around them.” “Poor Tina. She didn’t deserve any of this.” 4 By the time I was standing in the defendant’s box in the courtroom, Tina had completely cleaned herself up. She was wearing a crisp, elegant black mourning dress. Her eyes were perfectly red, her posture a masterclass in suppressed grief. The ultimate tragic daughter. “Damn, I threw that bucket way too early,” I muttered, shaking my head in mock disappointment. “Order in the court!” The Judge slammed the gavel down hard. He glared at me with absolute authority, his voice echoing through the silent room. “Harper Preston. The prosecution has charged you with public endangerment, assault, and creating a severe public disturbance. Furthermore, the court notes a shocking display of gross negligence and reckless disregard for basic human decency regarding your late mother.” “How do you plead?” A loud, sharp laugh tore from my throat. “Plead? Why the hell would I plead guilty to any of that?” “There was a rabid dog barking outside my window. Dogs love eating garbage. I just fed it a nice meal. Is that a crime?” “And reckless disregard for human decency?” I looked around the room like I had just heard the funniest joke of my life. “Your Honor, with all due respect, you’ve got this entire thing backward.” The courtroom erupted into a frenzy of whispers. The gallery was practically vibrating with anger. The Judge hammered his gavel repeatedly. “Order! Order!” “Miss Preston, I strongly advise you to watch your tone in my courtroom.” I smiled politely, casually reaching into my pocket. I pulled out a tiny USB drive and held it up. “Your Honor, I would like to submit evidence for my defense against these heavy accusations of moral decay. The proof is right here on this drive. I request that it be played for the court immediately.” The court clerk took the drive and plugged it into the media system. The massive monitors in the courtroom flickered to life. The video showed the interior of Mom’s funeral parlor. People were walking around in black suits, wiping fake tears. Suddenly, a team of grim-faced men in crisp suits stormed into the room. They marched straight toward the casket, forcefully shoving the crowd aside. When my father tried to block them, two of the men grabbed him by the arms and hauled him away. My father was thrashing wildly on the screen. “What the hell are you doing?! Who are you people?” “Why are you disturbing my wife’s rest?! Let me go!” “You can’t disrespect the dead! Is there no law in this country?!” Watching his panicked, desperate face on the monitor, I sneered, my voice cutting through the silent courtroom. “They’re the medical examiners.” I paused, letting the words hang in the air. “Time for an autopsy.” The moment the words left my mouth, a graveyard silence fell over the room. Tina’s face went totally bloodless. But she reacted with terrifying speed. She dropped to her knees, crawling toward my defense box, sobbing hysterically. “Harper, why?! Why won’t you just let her rest? Why do you have to humiliate her corpse?!” “If you’re angry, punish me! You can take my life if you want, but please, I am begging you, leave Mom out of this! Let her go in peace!” “I know you’re just mad about the internet comments! I’ll apologize! I’ll take the blame! Just call those men off! That’s our mother! Your own flesh and blood!” She let go of the wooden railing and started bowing frantically to the gallery and the Judge, tears streaming down her face. “Please, somebody help me! Make her stop!” “Don’t let my mother suffer in death!” Tina’s performance was flawless. The sheer desperation in her voice instantly ignited the crowd’s fury all over again. The public gallery and the live stream chat went completely nuclear. People were screaming, ready to tear me limb from limb. The courtroom descended into absolute chaos. “You animal! Drag her out of that box and beat her to death!” “Your Honor, lock her away forever! You can’t let her desecrate a corpse!” Several people in the gallery completely lost their minds. They shoved past the bailiffs, vaulting over the wooden partition, and tackled me to the ground. Fists and heavy boots rained down on me. Someone grabbed a fistful of my hair and slammed my head viciously against the oak paneling. Warm blood instantly poured down my forehead, blinding my left eye. “You piece of shit! You won’t even let your dead mother rest! Why are you still breathing?!” “I’ll do the world a favor and kill you myself! I don’t care if I go to jail, it’s worth it!” “Order! Bailiffs, clear the gallery! Order!” The Judge was screaming, slamming his gavel so hard the wood splintered, but the mob was out of control. My arms and legs were pinned to the floor. Blood dripped into my eyes, blurring my vision. But on the monitors, the video was still playing. And then, every single scream, every curse, every violent punch in that courtroom ground to an absolute, dead halt. The rage evaporated, replaced by the sound of sharp, collective gasps. “What the…?”

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1 It had been exactly six years since my younger brother and his fiancée passed away. I was standing by the door, putting on my coat, ready to bring fresh flowers to their graves. That was when my mother called out from the hallway, stopping me dead in my tracks. “Tedd, don’t go,” she said, her voice completely flat. “They aren’t dead.” My entire body went rigid. I turned around, staring at her in absolute disbelief. Right at that moment, two silhouettes stepped out of my brother’s old bedroom. It was Finn and Rachel. Finn had a smug, mocking smirk plastered across his face. He nudged the woman beside him. “See? I told you my bro wouldn’t notice a damn thing. Pay up, I won this bet.” He leaned in closer to her, his tone dropping into something dirty and arrogant. “So… who’s going to be on top later? Huh, Rachel?” Rachel glanced at me. Her eyes were entirely empty of the warmth I remembered, replaced by a look of sheer disgust, as if she were staring at the village idiot. “I guess he really is just that stupid,” she scoffed. “We’ve been living right next door all these years, and he never had a clue.” A heavy, sickening realization crashed down on me. Mom had strictly forbidden me from ever going into Finn’s room, claiming she didn’t want me to be overwhelmed by grief. But that was a lie. The room hid a secret passageway connecting directly to the house next door. Rachel was right. I really was an idiot. Just last month, I had spent hours carefully planning how to clean their headstones for the anniversary. “Why would you do this?” I forced the words out, fighting the violent trembling in my hands. My eyes were burning red. The soft, gentle Rachel from my memories was gone. The woman standing before me was made of ice. “Because you never knew your place, Tedd.” What did it even mean to know my place? My mother frowned, looking at me like I was a stain on the rug. “We just wanted you to learn how to behave these past few years. We needed you to stop trying to steal everything that belongs to your brother.” “Tedd, they’re having a baby now. Just let it go. You’ll find someone else.” I wouldn’t. I bit my lip so hard I tasted copper. My chest physically ached, a hollow, crushing pain. “I have never stolen anything from Finn,” I choked out. When we were kids, Mom and Dad only ever remembered the things Finn liked. If I wanted even a sliver of their attention, I had to force myself to like the exact same toys, the same food. I never realized that simply saying “I want one too” was viewed as stealing. By the time we were teenagers, I was a full four inches taller than my brother. But Mom still bought all my clothes in Finn’s size. No matter how many times I reminded her, it never stuck. My jeans always rode up past my ankles. I was bullied relentlessly at school for years because of it. I should have accepted the truth a long time ago. Tedd, they just don’t love you. Maybe the sheer devastation on my face was too much, because Rachel’s icy facade cracked for a fraction of a second. She pulled a tissue from her purse and held it out. “Tedd, just move on.” I didn’t take it. Finn immediately stepped up, putting on a sickeningly fake display of guilt. “Bro, I’m so sorry. We never actually signed the marriage license anyway. If you want, I can give her back to you.” Smack. My mother’s hand connected with my cheek. My skin stung, hot and throbbing. I looked at her, completely stunned. Her hand was trembling slightly, but her voice was pure venom. “What the hell is your problem, Tedd! Rachel is pregnant! Are you trying to make this kid a walking scandal just like you?” The air left my lungs. I was conceived before my parents got married. In my mother’s eyes, I was the living proof of her shame. In my father’s eyes, I was just the trap that forced him to settle down. I knew all of this. It was why I maintained a perfect GPA, why I kept my head down, why I never caused trouble. I foolishly believed that if I were just perfect enough, they might finally love me. Standing in that hallway, the truth finally set in. Nothing I did would ever matter. Because their only wish was for me to not exist at all. And they were about to get exactly what they wanted. Rachel took a step toward me, a flash of pity in her eyes. “Tedd, we can still be friends. Finn and I will make sure you’re taken care of.” I stumbled backward, avoiding her hand like it was poison. “Don’t touch me.” My voice was a dry, broken rasp. Six years. For six entire years, the guilt had eaten me alive every single day. I visited the cemetery in the freezing rain, apologizing to empty dirt, consumed by the thought that if I hadn’t planned that surprise party for them, they wouldn’t have died in that crash. It was all a staged production. Even my own parents had played their parts perfectly, just to make sure Finn got his happily ever after. I looked at my mother, the pieces finally clicking together. “You kept me out of his room so I wouldn’t find the tunnel to the house next door. That was it, wasn’t it?” Her face paled, her eyes darting away, but she stubbornly lifted her chin. “So what if it is? We did it for your own good. We wanted you to cut your ties and just live your life.” “Live my life?” A hollow laugh scraped its way out of my throat. “You watched me go to that cemetery like an absolute clown every year. You watched me drown in guilt, while they were playing house right next door. And you call that doing it for my own good?” “Watch your mouth, Tedd!” My father finally emerged from his study, his brow furrowed in deep annoyance. “They were deeply in love. They faked their deaths so you wouldn’t make a scene. They’ve been hiding and suffering for years. What more do you want from them?” Deeply in love. Suffering. Those words felt like a knife twisting in my gut. My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was an automated text from the cemetery management, confirming my final reservation. I reached into my pocket, pulled out the charred ring I had recovered from the crash site six years ago, and placed it quietly on the table. “I won’t cause any more trouble.” The very next morning, a package arrived for me from the cemetery center. It was a biometric monitoring wristband. The paperwork stated that within two hours of my heart stopping, the band would automatically ping my location, and a team would be dispatched to collect my body. It was perfect. My mind drifted back to that day six years ago. It was supposed to be my engagement party with Rachel. She told me to wait at the venue, promising a huge surprise. I waited, nervous and excited, until the sun went down. Instead of a surprise, I got a call from an unknown number. A car had gone off a cliff. Completely incinerated. The only thing they found in the wreckage was a ring engraved with my initials. I collapsed on the floor of the banquet hall. My entire universe shattered. My mother had screamed and cried, pointing a trembling finger at my chest. “This is your fault! If you hadn’t insisted on that stupid surprise party, they would still be alive!” The guests whispered and stared. The rain that night soaked into my bones, and I had been freezing ever since. But now they were telling me that every tear, every scream, was just a theatrical performance meant for an audience of one. No wonder the house always smelled like Finn’s favorite spicy food, even after he “died.” No wonder my mother never once visited his grave. Whatever. It didn’t matter anymore. I had emptied my entire savings account to pay the cemetery center. I just had to survive in this house long enough to finish my final painting, and then I would be gone. The thought of death didn’t scare me at all. Honestly, it felt like a massive relief. The next morning, I grabbed my coat to head out. Finn immediately blocked my path. “Bro, Rachel and I really want some of your homemade oatmeal. You always took such good care of everyone.” He wrapped an arm around Rachel’s waist, his eyes glinting with pure provocation. He was a completely different person from yesterday. Rachel leaned into his chest, looking at me expectantly. “Finn really wants it, Tedd. Just go make it. I’m pregnant, standing over a stove is too hard on me.” Mom nodded in agreement, acting like this was the most natural request in the world. “Go on. Make sure it’s soft, and don’t add sugar. You know Finn hates sweet things. It’s just a bowl of oatmeal, it won’t kill you.” I stood perfectly still. I didn’t move an inch. Finn put on a pitiful face, looking awkwardly at the floor. “Are you still mad at me, bro? I know it was messed up to take Rachel, but I really love her… If you don’t want to cook, it’s fine. I just won’t eat. Don’t force yourself.” He let out a heavy sigh, acting like he was the victim of some great injustice. Rachel’s face darkened instantly. She glared at me. “It’s literally just a bowl of food, Tedd. Do you really need to throw a tantrum over it? He’s your younger brother, can’t you just let him have this?” Dad slammed his newspaper onto the table. “If your mother tells you to cook, you cook! Stop dragging your feet! We are a family, stop being so petty!” A family. The word sounded like nails on a chalkboard. I slowly lifted my gaze, looking at the four faces in front of me. They were people I had known my whole life, yet they looked like complete strangers. It was like watching a movie I wasn’t cast in. I was just an extra on the set. “Fine. I’ll make it.” I turned and walked into the kitchen. This bowl of oatmeal would be my final payment for the cost of raising me. Ten minutes later, Finn was eating at the table when he suddenly gagged, sprinting to the bathroom and throwing up violently. I froze by the counter. The whole family rushed to his side. He leaned against the sink, looking weak and pale. “It’s fine. It has nothing to do with Tedd’s cooking. My stomach has just been acting up lately.” But the harder he tried to defend me, the more they blamed me. Rachel looked at me, her eyes brimming with intense disappointment. “You never used to be like this, Tedd.” “How did you become so sick and twisted? You’re actually trying to poison your own flesh and blood.” I looked down at the fresh burn blister on my hand from the stove. My chest hurt infinitely worse. My father was shaking with rage. “Lock him up! Throw him in the storage room! Let him rot in there until he learns his lesson. I can’t believe I raised such a monster!” Mom didn’t even try to stop him. She just looked away and sighed. “Just think about what you’ve done. Stop making everything so difficult.” Rachel hesitated for a brief second, but then she helped my dad shove me into the cramped, windowless storage room. The heavy door slammed shut. The deadbolt clicked. No one wanted to hear a single word I had to say. The room was pitch black, suffocating, and reeked of dust. A full day and night passed. No water. No food. The stress and dehydration triggered my chronic heart condition. A sharp, tearing pain ripped through my chest. I collapsed onto the concrete floor, curling into a tight ball as cold sweat soaked through my shirt. My vision blurred into static. Using every last ounce of willpower I possessed, I dragged myself to the door and started hitting the wood. Weakly. Slowly. “Open the door… please… it hurts…” “Rachel… Mom… I need my pills…” My voice was a pathetic whisper, but I kept slapping the wood until my knuckles swelled and split open, smearing blood on the doorframe. I couldn’t die yet. My painting hadn’t been delivered to the gallery. My life was an ugly, miserable mess, but I needed my art to hang in a clean, beautiful frame. I lost track of time before the lock finally clicked. Rachel stood in the doorway, her face tight. When she saw me curled up in a pool of my own sweat, panic flashed in her eyes. She dropped to her knees and touched my forehead, violently pulling her hand back. “You’re burning up! Why didn’t you say something?” “Pills… under my pillow…” I managed to breathe out. She jumped up, sprinting to my bedroom. She came back a minute later with the blister pack and a glass of warm water. She carefully pulled me up by the shoulders, her movements incredibly soft, like she was afraid of breaking me. “Take it. It’ll stop the pain.” I had barely swallowed the pill when Finn strolled into the room. He looked down at me, shaking his head with a sad, gentle expression. “Bro, why do you have to lie to us?” “I just checked your room. Those aren’t heart pills. They’re just daily vitamins.” “You’re faking an illness just to get attention… That’s so messed up.” Those words acted like a bucket of ice water, instantly killing whatever sympathy Rachel had felt. She shoved me away, letting my shoulder slam against the wall. “You are completely out of your mind, Tedd. Is there any low you won’t sink to?” My mother’s expression turned to pure disgust. “We just wanted you to reflect on your actions, and you pull a stunt like this. If I knew you’d turn out this way, I would have visited a clinic before you were born!” Dad shook his head in disgust. “Hopeless. Absolutely hopeless.” I shook my head frantically, tears finally spilling over my lashes. My throat was raw. “I’m not… I swear I’m not faking it…” “Shut up!” Rachel yelled, running a hand through her hair. “I don’t want to hear another word of your bullshit.” “Tedd, you are the biggest disappointment of my life.” After that, none of them spoke a single word to me. A few days later, I finally shipped my canvas to the gallery. As soon as I got home, my phone buzzed. It was the cemetery center. [Mr. Wright, your biometric scanner indicates extremely unstable vitals over the past 48 hours. Please take care of yourself.] I typed back a quick ‘Okay’. It was ironic. The only people in this world checking in on me were the ones waiting to bag my corpse. Later that afternoon, I was out on the balcony taking down the laundry. Finn sauntered out, a wicked, jagged grin spreading across his face. “You have absolutely zero shame, don’t you, bro? Everyone in this house despises you, and you still refuse to pack your bags?” I ignored him, turning to walk back inside. But his hand shot out, grabbing my wrist in a vice grip. He leaned in, whispering right into my ear. “You want to know a secret? Rachel never got over you. Her hidden photo gallery on her phone? It’s entirely filled with pictures of you two.” I blinked, genuinely surprised. Before I could process it, his voice dropped lower. “I really, really hate you, Tedd. Do us all a favor and go to hell.” Without warning, Finn violently shoved me toward the railing. But he miscalculated his footing on the slick tiles. We both went down hard. My body tipped entirely off balance, flipping over the waist-high concrete wall. The freezing wind whipped across my face. Nothing but empty air below me. I managed to hook one arm around the metal railing, my legs dangling over a four-story drop. Finn was on his back on the balcony floor, perfectly safe, but he immediately started screaming in terror. “Help! He’s trying to throw me off!” The sliding glass doors flew open. All three of them burst out onto the balcony like a swarm. They ran straight to Finn. Not a single one of them even glanced at the edge where I was slipping away. They crowded around my brother, their voices trembling with panic. “Finn! Oh my god, are you hurt?” Rachel pulled him into a tight hug, pressing his face into her chest, looking absolutely terrified. Mom was practically in tears, checking his arms for scratches. Dad stood up, pointing a furious finger at my face. “You absolute piece of trash! What is it going to take for you to leave him alone!” Half my body was suspended over the abyss. My shoulder joint was popping. My fingers were going numb. I used the very last bit of air in my lungs and screamed. “Rachel!” She finally turned her head and looked at me. She saw me hanging there. She hesitated, lifting a hand as if to reach for me. But my mother slapped her arm down. “Leave him! He actually tried to murder his own brother. Let him hang there and learn his lesson!” Rachel bit her lip, lowered her hand, and looked away. Even though I knew exactly how this was going to play out, my eyes still burned. My chest felt like it was caving in. I looked at the four of them, huddled tightly together, a perfect, united family defending themselves against the villain. A sudden, overwhelming sense of peace washed over me. “Will you finally believe me if I die?” I asked the question quietly to the wind. Then, I opened my fingers.

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I had a best friend I grew up with. We shared absolutely everything. When we were heartbroken, we cried together. When we were happy, we celebrated together. When she bought me cheap street food, I treated her to Michelin-star dinners. When she gifted me knock-off designer bags, I gave her real Hermès in return. But on my birthday, while playing Truth or Dare, she looked at me with a smirk and said, “I hooked up with your husband. A solid 69.” I froze on the spot. My husband, Brandon, laughed it off and tried to explain, “Babe, Marta is your best friend. If she’s happy, you’re happy. I was just trying to keep the mood light!” Marta didn’t look the least bit apologetic. “Aren’t we supposed to share everything, Serena? If you ever need him, I could lend you my boyfriend too. Oh wait, that would be weird, wouldn’t it? Haha~” 1 The room fell silent. Someone muttered, “Wow, you two really are close.” The words felt like a slap in the face. I instinctively looked at Marta’s hand, which was resting casually on Brandon’s shoulder. “Marta, how could you do this to my brother?” Marta gave me a wide-eyed, innocent look. “It’s not like I cheated on him.” “But honestly, Serena, why didn’t you ever tell me Brandon was so good with his mouth? That’s just selfish of you!” My face cycled through shades of red and green. Our friends started hooting and hollering. “Damn, Brandon, how good are you? Teach us your ways! You bagged both besties at once!” Marta laughed, waving her hands to play it down. “Hey, hey, don’t get crazy. Brandon and I are strictly platonic. I just got lucky because Serena and I share everything~” She wasn’t exactly lying. We really did share everything. We drank from the same cups and slept in the same bed. During puberty, we shared bra sizes. She shared every graphic detail of her first time with me. Over the years, she never held back on sharing her bedroom secrets, down to the exact measurements of every guy she dated. She had even generously offered to let me “try them out” if I wanted. But this was my husband! How could they do this behind my back? Marta must have noticed my face turning to stone. She quickly wrapped her arm around my shoulders to comfort me. “Oh, come on, Serena. Your husband is one hundred percent devoted to you. He literally had to stare at a picture of you just to get hard that day. He didn’t even look at me the whole time!” “Alright, alright, next round!” I couldn’t stomach it. I shoved her arm off me, my face deadpan, and turned to leave. Brandon quickly grabbed my wrist. “Serena, you know Marta has a sex addiction. She had a sudden episode that day. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry!” I stared at him, feeling absolutely disgusted. Before I could even voice my fury, Marta gasped dramatically. “Brandon!” “Truth or Dare! You have to do twenty push-ups over a girl!” The second the words left her mouth, Brandon dropped my hand and practically sprinted over to the center of the room, completely forgetting I existed. Everyone else seemed to forget the awkward tension from a minute ago and started cheering. “Serena’s pregnant! She’s got a huge belly, she can’t do it!” “Yeah, what if he crushes the baby? That’s too risky!” Marta stepped up, looking entirely too eager. “I’ll do it then!” She shot me a exaggerated wink. “Keep it in the family, right Serena? Don’t worry, I promise I won’t catch feelings for your man~” Brandon was already enthusiastically ripping his shirt off. “Exactly, babe! You two have been sisters for years. Even if I was butt-naked, she wouldn’t look twice at me!” Marta playfully slapped his bare abs right in front of me. “So true! Even if he was the last man on earth, I wouldn’t touch him!” The room erupted in laughter. Marta unhooked her bra, pulled it out from under her shirt, and laid flat on her back on the carpet. Brandon positioned himself directly over her, his chest pressing flush against hers with every downward motion. I stood there, forced to watch as Brandon’s weight crushed against Marta’s chest. I could literally see the bulge in his pants growing larger with every rep. By the third push-up, Marta suddenly let out a giggling squeal. “Brandon, your belt buckle is digging into me!” My husband didn’t even hesitate to shoot back, “Well, your headlights are poking me back!” The room exploded into a chorus of hoots and laughter. “Serena, I’ve never seen a guy get along so well with his girlfriend’s bestie. You guys are like one big, happy, weird family!” I couldn’t take another second of this humiliation. I turned on my heel and headed for the door. Marta scrambled up from the floor and grabbed my arm. “Don’t leave yet, Serena! You haven’t even opened your presents!” She reached into the pile of gifts and pulled out a box wrapped in a bright pink bow. “Since you’re pregnant and can’t really do the deed right now, we picked this out specifically for you.” She wiggled her eyebrows at me, her eyes dripping with vulgarity. “Your husband used this exact model on me when I had my episode. It feels amazing~” 2 My stomach violently turned. I genuinely felt like I was going to throw up. Brandon sidled up to me and wrapped an arm around my waist. “Babe, I did it for you! I was terrified of buying something cheap that might hurt you or the baby, so I had Marta test-drive it first. It’s completely safe!” While he was saying this, his eyes were blatantly glued to Marta’s braless chest. I shoved him away with all my strength. “What else did you ‘test-drive’ with her? Are you treating her like your wife?!” Clutching my pregnant stomach, I stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind me, leaving my birthday cake uncut. The night air was biting cold, and the street was busy with traffic. Brandon didn’t immediately chase after me. About an hour after I got home, I saw a new post pop up on Marta’s Instagram story. “Serena wasn’t feeling well and went home early for her birthday, so I’m cutting the cake and taking shots for her! Happy Birthday, bestie!” In the video, Brandon was hovering over Marta, protecting her from the crowd like she was the love of his life. Staring at the screen at the two people I trusted most in the world, my heart shattered into a million jagged pieces. People always say men cheat when their wives get pregnant. But I couldn’t comprehend how the best friend who claimed to share everything with me had turned into this boundary-less, toxic nightmare. Late that night, Brandon knocked on my bedroom door, reeking of cheap alcohol. “Babe, are you asleep?” I ripped the door open, furious. “Who is your actual wife? Her or me?” In the past, Brandon would never have let me walk home alone at night, let alone on my birthday. Now, I was heavily pregnant and vulnerable, and he completely ignored me! Brandon looked deeply conflicted. “Marta was taking all the shots for you. She kept saying you couldn’t drink because of the baby, so she’d take the hit. I was worried she’d get hurt or taken advantage of if she got too drunk. You and your brother would be devastated if something happened to her.” Hearing that she had gotten blackout drunk just to protect me made my resolve waver. My heart softened slightly. Since I got pregnant, I had to get up constantly during the night. Brandon had been sleeping in the guest room next door so he could be close by to help me. Later that night, I woke up with a sudden craving. I called out his name a few times, but the house was dead silent. I rolled over. The bed was empty. I waddled out into the living room and heard muffled noises coming from the guest bedroom. I pushed the door open, and my entire body froze. “What the hell are you doing?!” Brandon didn’t even look guilty. He actually took a second to dial up the vibration setting on the toy in his hand. “Marta was feeling sick from all the alcohol, so I came to check on her. I didn’t expect her to have another episode right now…” Marta was writhing on the bed, completely delirious, moaning loudly as the toy worked against her. She was practically climbing up Brandon’s arm. I couldn’t take the absolute disrespect. I slammed the door shut and stormed off. It wasn’t until Marta’s loud, erratic screams echoed through the house that Brandon finally emerged from the room. “Babe, Marta is your best friend. She’s practically my sister-in-law. I couldn’t just leave her suffering, could I?” I was already boiling with rage. “Is that how you treat your family?!” “I didn’t even get hard! I was literally just doing a medical favor for you.” Brandon genuinely didn’t seem to think he had done a single thing wrong. The next morning, Marta woke up acting like absolutely nothing had happened. “Serena, I slept so good last night! For a second, I thought your brother came home and got in bed with me.” She must have completely blacked out. She didn’t remember a thing. Furious, I immediately pulled some strings at my company and arranged for Marta to be sent out of state on an extended business trip. Marta was eating breakfast in her pajamas when she got the email. She didn’t complain. She just frantically started packing her bags. Before she left, she gave me a massive, tight hug. “I’m heading out, Serena! Don’t miss me too much! I’ll bring you back a present!” She was acting exactly like she always did. Warm, bubbly, like a little ray of sunshine. She always remembered to bring me a souvenir whenever she traveled. Watching her rush to put her shoes on, a wave of guilt washed over me. I started questioning if I was overreacting, projecting my own insecurities onto her. 3 She had always been loud, reckless, and completely lacking a filter. Maybe she genuinely didn’t have any ulterior motives. But before my guilt could even settle, Brandon texted me, saying he was suddenly being sent on a business trip too. A sickening knot formed in my stomach. I immediately booked a flight and followed him. The second I landed, my assistant sent me a text. They were together! I rushed to the location my assistant pinned. I spotted them instantly. They were walking shoulder-to-shoulder, looking incredibly cozy, browsing inside a high-end adult toy boutique! Panic clawed at my throat. I immediately dialed my brother’s number. “Tyler, when are you coming back to the States?!” There was a two-second silence on the other end, followed by heavy static. “Serena, what’s wrong? My signal is garbage out here. Once I wrap up this acquisition…” The call dropped before he could finish. I was so anxious I was about to storm into the store, but my phone buzzed. It was a text from Marta. “Serena, which one do you like better?” She sent a picture of herself holding up two completely different adult toys, saying she wanted to buy one to make up for ruining my birthday. Before I could even type a reply, she bought both of them and posted a picture on her Instagram story. “Picking up some gifts for my favorite mom-to-be! Just because you’re pregnant doesn’t mean you can’t have fun!~” My heart skipped a beat. A massive wave of shame and guilt washed over me for suspecting them. Marta grew up in grinding poverty. She never spent money recklessly. When we were kids, she used her hard-earned allowance to buy me street food, and I paid her back by taking her to Michelin-star restaurants. When we got older, she saved up for months to buy me high-quality fake designer bags, and I bought her real Hermès so she wouldn’t look out of place. She hated spending money on herself. Every piece of designer clothing she owned was a gift from either me or my brother. Those two toys were incredibly expensive. Buying both cost nearly two grand, which was her entire living budget for the month. But she dropped the cash without blinking, just for me. She had been doing this for the last two years. She didn’t make much money, but she always prioritized buying me gifts. I felt violently guilty. How could I accuse my best friend of seducing my husband? But when I looked up, they were gone. They had vanished from the store. My anxiety completely overpowered my logic. The sickening dread returned. I was terrified they were off doing something unforgivable again. I paced the mall, trying to convince myself they had just split up to go to their respective work meetings. As soon as I walked out of the shopping center, a friend who worked at a luxury hot spring resort texted me. “Your husband and your bestie just booked a private VIP bath together.” I couldn’t control myself. I hailed a cab and rushed straight to the resort. When I shoved the door to the private suite open, Marta was sitting in the steaming water, looking utterly shocked. “Serena? What are you doing here?” I stared at the empty room. She was alone in the bath. I stood there, completely mortified, not knowing what to say. Until Brandon stepped out from behind the wooden privacy screen. My worst nightmare was confirmed. I stared at them, my entire body shaking. “What the hell are you two doing?!” Marta gave me her classic, innocent wide eyes. “Taking a medicinal bath…” Brandon immediately jumped in to explain. “I ran into Marta at the airport and we walked together for a bit. Suddenly, she had another episode and passed out.” My parents died when I was very young. I only had my older brother, Tyler. But Tyler was constantly traveling for work. Marta was the only person who was always there for me. Years ago, I suffered a severe lupus flare-up. I was literally on my deathbed. Marta didn’t even hesitate. She gave me one of her kidneys. “Best friends share everything. My kidney is your kidney.” After the transplant, Marta’s health was incredibly fragile. The doctors had specifically instructed her to take immediate medicinal baths whenever she had an episode to stabilize her body. Brandon suddenly caught on. “Wait, babe, are you seriously suspecting us of something?” Marta looked at me, her eyes brimming with deep disappointment. “Serena… are you still mad about the push-up thing?”

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My wife had just passed away when the glowing, floating comments started appearing right in front of my eyes. Someone wrote that the female lead faked her death just to test the supporting male character’s loyalty. Another predicted that the supporting guy would get lonely and cheat almost immediately, leaving the female lead free to end up with the main male lead. Some even said they couldn’t wait to see the supporting guy standing outside in the pouring rain, begging the female lead not to leave him, completely unaware that she was inside acting coy with the main guy, begging him to stop kissing her. The comments said this scene would be incredibly satisfying to read. I felt unbelievably wronged. I swore to myself right then and there that I would never betray my feelings for my wife. But on the day of her funeral, her estranged sister showed up. She walked right up to me, held a black umbrella over my head, and whispered in a low, velvet voice, “Noah, my sister is gone. But you still have me.” I stood frozen. Was this another test? 1 I went to a psychic down in the Village. The reader flipped a tarot card and told me, “You are destined to have two wives in this life. The woman standing beside you isn’t the love of your life.” “That is absolute garbage,” I snapped, losing my temper. A shadow fell over me. A slender, elegant hand reached out from behind and snatched the tarot card right off the table. I turned around and met Sloane’s eyes. “Honey, don’t listen to this.” She gave a faint, dismissive smile and carelessly toyed with the card. Her face betrayed no real emotion. I knew she didn’t care. Marrying me was just her settling. She had countless wealthy, gorgeous men throwing themselves at her feet. With her looks and status, leaving me would only mean trading up. But I was the one who had chased her the longest. Since she couldn’t marry the man she truly loved, she married the man who loved her the most. I just didn’t expect her to bring up the psychic’s reading in bed that night. All her usual coldness vanished. She came at me fiercely, completely selfish and almost brutal in her demands. I knew that arrogant, high-and-mighty look of hers too well. She didn’t like me all that much, but she demanded that I worship the ground she walked on. “Sloane,” I breathed, surrendering entirely. “I only love you.” I promised her over and over again. As long as she lived, I would love her. She paused, looking down at me. “And if I die?” I froze. “…I’d still love you.” She caught that split-second of hesitation in my voice. One perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched up. I instinctively tried to pull my hand back, but she pinned my wrists down hard against the mattress. “Noah,” she whispered. “Even if I die, you are only allowed to love me.” Half past midnight. Sloane threw on a black silk nightgown, leaning against the window sill with her long legs crossed as she took a phone call. “The news of your supposed death will hit the press tomorrow.” The voice on the other end of the line was giving her a mission briefing. “You’ll lay low at the remote villa in Sardinia for six months. Once we catch the corporate mole over here, you can come back.” Sloane gave a lazy, indifferent hum of agreement. “Are you really not going to tell your husband it’s a setup?” the voice asked. Sloane keeping me in the dark was partly for the undercover operation, but mostly, it was a gamble. When she was seven, her mother ran off with another man, taking her younger sister and leaving Sloane behind. Because of that, she absolutely despised betrayal. She wanted to bet on whether I would actually stay loyal to a ghost. Only then would she fully accept me. “Did the private investigators find anything?” she asked the person on the phone. “We tailed him for half a month,” the voice replied. “Noah doesn’t have anyone on the side. He goes straight from work to home and back. He’s as straight-laced as they come.” “Honestly, everyone knows he worships you,” the person added, a teasing note in their voice. “Are you seriously worried he’ll find someone else just because he thinks you’re dead?” “Let him find someone else.” She scoffed, completely unbothered. “He’s not the only man who wants to marry me.” Sloane hung up the phone. Her hand slipped into her pocket and brushed against the psychic’s tarot card she had confiscated earlier. She gripped it tightly in her palm, staring at the night sky for a few seconds. Running a frustrated hand through her hair, she glanced over her shoulder at me, fast asleep in bed. She tossed the card into the trash can. The next day was our anniversary. I waited for her at home all day, only to receive the news of her death. I sat there in a daze, barely registering the police officers telling me something about a catastrophic accident during a business trip. I returned to our empty house alone. I saw the black silk nightgown she had worn the night before still draped over the edge of the sofa. I picked it up, intending to throw it in the wash, until the realization hit me that there was no point anymore. A suffocating, agonizing heartbreak spread from the freezing nape of my neck all the way to my fingertips. I held her clothes to my chest and cried for a long, long time. It wasn’t until the day of the funeral that I saw the scrolling text floating in the air: [OMG here we go. The FMC faked her death to test the beta male orbiter!] [He’s gonna get lonely and cheat so fast, leaving the FMC completely free for the real Male Lead!] [This stupid side guy can’t resist temptation. He’s gonna think he struck gold, but when she comes back, he’s gonna regret it so much.] [The MMC is totally her type anyway. They’re gonna fall in love on that island. She acts tough but she won’t be able to resist him.] [The side guy chased her for years, but the MMC gets everything just by standing there!] [I can’t wait to see the side guy begging in the rain for her to take him back, not knowing she’s inside begging the MMC to stop kissing her. It’s gonna be so satisfying!] I stared at the floating words, feeling a mix of sheer absurdity and bitter resentment. So, I was just the discarded side character. No wonder I could never warm Sloane’s heart, no matter how much I bled for her. But what I absolutely could not accept was the accusation that I would cheat! According to these comments, I was going to find my next target right here at the funeral. Have some faith in me! I am a traditional guy with actual morals. There is no way I would mess around when my wife’s grave hasn’t even been filled yet! And the most infuriating part? Looking around this gloomy cemetery, there wasn’t a single woman here who was prettier than Sloane! We desperate orbiters only dedicate our lives to someone because we are heavily biased toward a pretty face. [Just thinking about the side guy waking up next to some ugly chick every morning is hilarious.] [No wonder he’s gonna be so bitter. But whatever, the gorgeous FMC belongs to the MMC now.] [Wait, who is that absolute bombshell walking up to him?] [Holy crap, look at those legs!] I slowly raised my head. Through the mist of the rain and the somber crowd in black, a strikingly bright and beautiful face caught my eye. The crowd parted. Through the hazy drizzle, she walked straight toward me, holding a black umbrella. She stopped right in front of me and called out in a low, soft voice, “Noah.” “My sister is dead. But you still have me.” A few steps behind her hung the black-and-white portrait of her sister, Sloane. 2 Melina. The pop star I had worshipped for ten years. Back in high school, I used to hide under the covers in my dorm room, secretly listening to her debut album to fall asleep. Even in my most desperate teenage fantasies, I didn’t dare picture her face. She was practically a goddess to me. And now, she was standing less than two feet away from me. “That’s Sloane’s sister,” someone whispered nearby. I already knew she was the younger sister who was taken away by their mother—the sister Sloane absolutely despised. Because of that hatred, I hadn’t seen her once during my entire marriage. And I was Melina’s brother-in-law. In a matter of seconds, my brain short-circuited. I had always joked that if my celebrity crush ever started dating someone, I would jump off a bridge. I despised the idea of any man calling himself her husband. But now, I was the taboo husband figure in her life? Dammit. I was panicking. Staring at my idol’s flawless face from this close, my vocal cords completely seized up. But I couldn’t just leave her hanging. I had to say hello. I had to— “Quack.” My tight throat managed to produce a sound exactly like a dying duck. It was humiliating. I wanted the earth to swallow me whole. But unfortunately, I was a physically robust side character. I didn’t faint. Ten minutes later, I found a dark, isolated corner in the venue’s stairwell to hide and hate myself. “Have you seen Noah? Melina’s looking for him.” Two of Sloane’s relatives walked past the stairwell door, their voices echoing. “Hey, did you hear Sloane didn’t leave a single cent to Noah in her will?” “Yeah. A woman’s money is where her heart is. That leech drained his youth on her and walked away with absolutely nothing.” “Don’t be so harsh. Noah is a good kid. Did you see his eyes? He cried them completely red.” Their footsteps faded away. The glowing text floating in front of me was still updating with scenes from the Mediterranean island: [Ahhh the MMC and FMC finally met!] [Why is the MMC staring at her like that?] [The FMC’s dog loves the MMC! Dogs are way better judges of character!] I took a deep breath, grabbed the doorknob, and prepared to go home. The moment I pulled the door open, a strong force pulled me right back into the stairwell. The person let go of my jacket and looked up at me. “Found you.” In the narrow stairwell, the door blew half-open by the wind, letting in just a sliver of gray light. “Are you hiding from me?” Melina’s face was half-shadowed in the dark, her voice ringing crystal clear. “Do you hate me, Noah? Just like she did?” I took a half-step back and shook my head rapidly. “I don’t hate you.” God knew I could barely even breathe looking at her. She was actually taller than her sister. Even though she was half a head shorter than me, her presence was so overwhelmingly magnetic it made my chest tight. “Then do you like me?” she asked. Someone walked past outside, and the draft pushed the heavy fire door open a little wider. I instinctively shrank back into the shadows. She smiled, amused by my reaction, and reached out to hold the door steady, blocking me from view. Once the people outside were gone, the light spilled back in, illuminating her bright, dark eyes. “Do you still remember me?” she asked softly. “Noah, we were in the same class freshman year of high school.” Melina’s name had defined my entire adolescence. She transferred out in sophomore year, got discovered, and debuted as a singer. She became a massive sensation overnight, sweeping up awards left and right. The year I took my SATs and barely scraped into a decent state college, my college roommate lay on his bed on the first day of dorm move-in and mentioned his favorite singer was Melina. Years later, after we graduated, my roommate had long stopped keeping up with pop culture. But I was still listening to her music. Her concert tickets sold out in seconds every single tour. The one time I finally managed to secure a ticket, my corporate boss called me in for a mandatory overtime emergency. I sat at my cubicle that night, crying silently. I realized I wasn’t just sad about missing the show. I was devastated because, in that moment, it became violently clear that she and I lived in completely different universes. I would probably never see her in real life. “I remember,” I said, finally meeting her gaze. “It is pretty crazy. I never expected you to remember me, and I definitely never expected us to become family.” I tried my hardest to keep my voice from shaking. “Who would’ve thought the next time we saw each other would be eating catering at my wife’s funeral?” She listened to me refer to her sister as my wife, looking at my red, swollen eyes. She seemed to finally remember the occasion. “Oh.” She turned slightly, putting a little distance between us. Fine droplets of rain carried by the freezing wind blew through the doorway, hitting my exposed forearms. She had briefly touched my arm just moments ago. “My sister was really cruel.” She didn’t look at me. “How could she treat you like that?” Melina had been in the industry for years. She kept a low profile, had zero scandals, and maintained a flawless reputation. Even at high school reunions, old classmates would talk about her. “Back then, some gang kids from another school cornered me,” a guy once said. “Melina barely knew me, but she quietly called the cops and even stepped in to fight them off.” “She’s a genuinely good person.” I always believed Melina was fundamentally kind. That had to be why she was looking at me now, with that devastatingly beautiful face and an expression of pure, honest sincerity, asking: “What do you want?” “As her family, I’ll compensate you.” I felt so incredibly dirty. In that precise moment, I became painfully aware of my role as the weak-willed, corrupted side character. My brain was screaming: If she sleeps with me, does that count as hooking up with a fan? Will it ruin her career? I shouldn’t do this. Control yourself, Noah! I lowered my head and muttered, “No, it’s fine. I don’t need anything.” But her deep, alluring voice pushed further. “Are you sure you don’t want anything?” “I’m sure. You don’t owe me anything.” “Oh.” The shadows of the trees outside swayed violently, and the wind blew the heavy door wide open. Someone in the hallway was calling my name. I turned around, ready to leave. She watched my back, her voice floating leisurely through the cold air. “Noah.” “Then can I ask for some compensation of my own?” I stopped and turned back to look at her, confused. “Like what?” “Marry me.” She looked me dead in the eye. “Let me take care of you in her place.”

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1 Midnight had just passed when my phone lit up with a barrage of texts from another kindergarten mom. She sent a video of the kids eating lunch at school. A second later, a message popped up. “Megan’s Mom, why isn’t your Megan eating her shrimp?” Fighting off the exhaustion of a long day, I typed back a quick reply. “She has a severe allergy.” I thought that would be the end of it. Instead, my phone began vibrating off the nightstand. I flipped it to silent, not wanting to deal with the drama, but then her actual caller ID flashed across the screen. “Megan’s Mom, an allergy is no excuse to just skip food! Kids are super impressionable right now. Because your Megan refused her shrimp, my Penelope decided to copy her and didn’t eat hers either!” My brain completely short-circuited. My remaining sleepiness vanished in an instant. Was this something a normal, functioning adult actually said? Fearing I had misheard her, I reiterated my point. “It is like this, Penelope’s Mom. My daughter is deathly allergic to shellfish. She absolutely cannot eat shrimp.” “Well, obviously I know she’s allergic!” The voice on the other end grew piercingly shrill and dripping with impatience. “But does she have to be so stubborn about it? Spoiling a child is one thing, but you are taking it to another level. You are not only being completely irresponsible with your own kid, but you are actively corrupting other children!” “Honestly, talking to you is exhausting. It is no wonder people say the lower class shouldn’t breed. You don’t even possess basic communication skills.” Hearing that, a hot spark of anger flared in my chest. “Penelope’s Mom, if you have an issue, state it. There is absolutely no need for personal attacks. I will say this once more…” Before I could finish, she cut me off. “Oh, save it. I am not wasting another breath on you.” “Because your daughter refused her food today, my Penelope was deprived of essential nutrients. Since they are classmates, I am going to be generous. You owe me fifty thousand dollars in nutritional compensation for my daughter. Pay up, and we can drop this. But if it happens again, it won’t be resolved so easily.” Fifty thousand dollars? Over a single piece of uneaten shrimp. Why didn’t this woman just go rob a bank? I am a reasonable person, but I refuse to be bullied. I certainly wasn’t going to indulge this sheer lunacy. “Penelope’s Mom, what my daughter eats is her own business. If your daughter is mimicking her, that sounds like a failure in your parenting, not mine.” With that, I hung up, cutting off whatever toxic garbage she was about to spew next. This bizarre encounter left me tossing and turning all night. Keeping Megan in a class with a mother like that was a ticking time bomb. I made up my mind to transfer her to a new private school. “But Mommy, I really want to go today! I promised my friends yesterday I would bring them the cookies we baked. I don’t want to break my promise.” Looking at my daughter’s sweet, pleading face all scrunched up in worry, my heart melted entirely. I couldn’t bear to disappoint her. One more day wouldn’t hurt. As for Penelope’s mother, she was likely just a loudmouthed paper tiger. The kindergarten had teachers everywhere, and security cameras lined every hallway. Thinking of this, my anxiety settled slightly. “Alright, Megan. But if anything feels wrong, you ask a teacher to call me immediately, understand?” “I know, Mommy! Bye-bye!” Just to be safe, I texted Ms. Jenkins, the head teacher, asking her to keep an extra close eye on Megan today. After checking every possible box, I threw myself into my work. My company was bidding on a massive new project, and my workload had doubled. I was drowning in spreadsheets until past one in the afternoon, barely finding a second to grab a glass of water. I opened my messages, instinctively checking my chat with Ms. Jenkins. The screen showed my message from this morning, left completely unread. Ms. Jenkins was usually busy, but she always replied within an hour or two. A four-hour radio silence was entirely unprecedented. A cold knot formed in my stomach. I dialed the teacher’s number. It rang out to voicemail. I tried again. Nothing. Panicking, I tried calling my daughter’s smartwatch. The automated operator voice that echoed through the speaker froze the blood in my veins. The number you have dialed does not exist. 2 A suffocating sense of dread washed over me. Abandoning my lunch, I grabbed my keys and drove straight to the preschool, breaking every speed limit along the way. The moment I burst through the front doors, I spotted Megan’s teacher. I lunged toward her like a drowning woman grabbing a lifeline. “Ms. Jenkins! Where is Megan?” “Oh, Megan’s Mom! Megan is taking her afternoon nap right now. Is there an emergency?” Ms. Jenkins tried to maintain her usual overly bright customer-service smile, but the moment her eyes met mine, a distinct flash of raw panic betrayed her. I ignored her pleasantries and pushed past her, heading straight for the sleeping quarters. “Wait, you can’t go in there! The children are resting! You cannot just barge in!” Ms. Jenkins tried to physically block my path, but a mother’s resolve is absolute. Her slight frame was no match for my adrenaline. “Megan! Mommy is here to take you home!” I yelled down the colorful hallway. Normally, I wouldn’t even need to call her name three times before she would come running with a bright smile. But today, there was only dead, heavy silence. I threw open every door along the corridor. Not only was Megan missing, but the entire nap room was completely empty. There wasn’t a single child in sight. More teachers flooded out from the staff rooms, surrounding me and trying to herd me toward the exit. “Where the hell did you take my daughter!” “Please calm down! This is a school environment, you cannot scream like this. Let’s go to the office and talk this through.” “Exactly, your behavior is incredibly aggressive and inappropriate.” Instead of helping me find my missing child, they began gaslighting me, acting as if my sheer terror was just an irrational tantrum. I was the victim here, yet they looked at me like I was a hysterical trespasser. If she wasn’t in the nap room, she had to be somewhere else. The cafeteria, the art room, the playground. I tore through the building like a hurricane. “If you don’t stop this instant, I am calling the police!” Ms. Jenkins shrieked. “Do it! Call them right now, let them see what you are hiding!” The air in the hallway went completely still. In that split second of silence, I heard it. A muffled, agonizing cry. It was coming from the janitorial closet at the end of the hall. The teachers heard it too, and the color drained from their faces. “That is a staff-only area, you are strictly forbidden to enter!” Their words were meaningless background noise. I threw my entire body weight against the heavy wooden door. It was locked from the inside. I backed up and rammed my shoulder into it again and again. With a loud crack, the lock gave way, and the door flew open. What I saw inside ignited a blinding, murderous rage in my soul. My precious little girl was kneeling on the cold tile. Her tiny wrists and ankles were bound with heavy tape. Someone was prying her mouth open, violently forcing raw shrimp down her throat. “What the hell are you doing to her!” Hearing my voice, Megan struggled with all her might, but she was so small, so completely overpowered. I lunged forward like a wild animal, desperate to rip them away from my baby. But a crowd of women surged forward, forming a human barricade between me and my daughter. Sitting in a chair right in the center of the room, looking utterly smug, was a woman I recognized instantly. Vanessa. Penelope’s mother. “I tried to warn you last night. I told you to discipline your child. Since you refused to be a decent mother, I had to step in and do the parenting for you.” As she spoke, she casually picked up another shrimp and shoved it toward my daughter’s face. Megan’s face was completely covered in a terrifying, angry red rash. Her lips were swollen to twice their size, and she looked like she barely had the breath to cry, let alone speak. Every gasp she took felt like a knife twisting directly into my heart. In all her life, I had never so much as raised a hand to my daughter. And now, she was being subjected to this barbaric torture! “Don’t be so dramatic,” Ms. Jenkins said, stepping in front of me with an expression of sickening sincerity. “Vanessa is a medical professional. She is simply administering a desensitization treatment for Megan’s own good.” “Exactly,” another mother chimed in from the barricade. “Ms. Jenkins approved it. You should be thanking us.” “A preschool is a community. We can’t have special snowflakes ruining the ecosystem. If everyone else can eat shrimp, why should your kid be exempt? If she corrupts our children into becoming picky eaters, who takes the blame? You?” I knew some parents were ignorant and entitled. But the teachers? They were supposed to be educated, licensed professionals. How could they stand by and facilitate this absolute nightmare? 3 I threw myself against the wall of women, fighting tooth and nail, but there were simply too many of them. Vanessa had planned this meticulously. She had brought at least ten other mothers with her. They locked arms, creating an impenetrable flesh wall that kept me agonizingly out of reach. My heart pounded wildly against my ribs. “Let her go right now! She is going into anaphylactic shock, you are going to kill her!” Megan’s cheeks were swelling visibly by the second, her breathing shifting into a terrifying, wet wheeze. Yet, through her pain, my brave little girl used every ounce of her fading strength to comfort me. “Mommy, I’m okay. It doesn’t hurt.” Vanessa smiled, a cruel, wicked twisting of her lips. “See? I told you she was fine. Be a good girl, Megan. Just eat ten more, and Auntie Vanessa will forgive your mommy for the money she owes us.” “Okay, Auntie… you have to promise,” Megan rasped out, tears spilling down her swollen cheeks. “No!” I screamed, my vocal cords tearing. “Megan, do not eat it! Listen to Mommy, keep your mouth closed!” Megan hesitated, pressing her lips tightly together. But in the next second, Vanessa’s hand shot out. She grabbed a fistful of my daughter’s hair, violently yanking her head back to force her jaw open. Another mother eagerly rushed over to help pin the child down. Chunks of Megan’s soft hair were ripped from her scalp. She let out an agonizing, broken wail. “You absolute psychopaths! Let her go! If she dies, every single one of you will rot in prison! Do you want your children to grow up knowing their mothers are murderers?” “I already called 911 on my way here! You are all going down for this!” The threat of prison made a few of the mothers pale. They exchanged nervous glances, the human wall wavering just enough for me to spot a gap. I readied myself to sprint through. Then, Vanessa’s cold voice echoed through the closet. “Let the cops come. Who cares? Everyone knows the Reed family owns New York.” “Keep that crazy bitch pinned down! When I tell Sebastian about this, I will make sure he rewards you all. Any of you whose husbands need corporate backing from the Reed Empire, you will be first on the list.” The Reed family? Sebastian? Sebastian Reed! That was my husband! Since when did he belong to her? Before my brain could even process the sheer absurdity of her claim, hands shoved me violently backward. The promise of wealth erased their guilt. Someone wanting to prove their loyalty to Vanessa grabbed my daughter by the hair and slapped her across the face. “Eat the damn shrimp, you little brat!” Vanessa tilted her chin up, utterly delighted. Seeing her approval, the others joined in. My daughter was tossed around like a fragile, dying leaf in a storm. I screamed until I tasted blood in the back of my throat. “She is lying to you! She isn’t Mrs. Reed! I am!” Under the barrage of blows, Megan was losing consciousness, her tiny chest barely rising and falling. “Lying is an ugly habit,” Ms. Jenkins sneered, intentionally stoking the fire. “No wonder Megan is so disobedient, she learned it from her delusional mother.” I lunged forward and backhanded the teacher across the face with everything I had. “Shut your mouth!” “If you don’t believe me, I will FaceTime him right now!” Vanessa stood up with agonizing slowness, smoothing out her designer skirt, and sauntered over to me. She looked down at me with pure mockery. “A video call proves nothing. Deepfakes exist, darling. You need real, tangible proof in this society.” “Besides,” she smirked, tapping her watch. “You said you called the cops an hour ago. Do you see any flashing lights? Hear any sirens?” It had been over an hour since I made the call from the car. Even in city traffic, they should have arrived by now. My stomach plummeted into an endless abyss. Catching the absolute despair in my eyes, Vanessa covered her mouth and giggled. “Let me let you in on a little secret. The Reed family has this entire block locked down. Unless your precious little mistake finishes every single shrimp in that bucket, nobody is leaving this building alive.” “Mr. Davis, bring in the special gift I prepared for Megan.” The door clicked open, and a man in a tailored suit stepped into the room. When I saw his face, a spark of hope ignited in my chest. It really was him. Assistant Davis, Sebastian’s right-hand man!

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At our company retreat, the new intern Finn won the grand prize, a luxury Swiss watch, and whispers spread. Some called him lucky. Others wondered how someone with his background got hired here. There was talk that he had closed a key account in just a week and that a wealthy CEO girlfriend spoiled him endlessly. I stood by, stirring my drink, filled with bitterness. As a Stanford graduate and top performer, I kept missing promotions due to odd setbacks. I swallowed my pride each time because my bedridden girlfriend relied on me. Her care drained me financially, and I had even given up bonuses just to keep my job and insurance. Later, needing air, I stepped outside and saw Finn on the phone in the garden, beaming. “I only wished for that watch yesterday,” he laughed. “Did you set this up?” A woman’s voice, elegant and amused, came through the speaker: “Don’t be silly. You’re my little lucky star.” The tumbler I had won as a consolation prize fell from my hand and hit the ground with a clatter. I knew that voice. It was Diana’s. The same woman I bathed and turned every night in her hospital bed. 1 Before my brain could even process the sound, Finn ended the call. He turned around, saw me standing there, and scratched the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. “Oh, hey Jake. What are you doing out here?” I forced the corners of my mouth up. “Just getting some air. Wrapped up your call?” “Yeah.” He waved his phone, the tips of his ears turning a faint pink. “That was my girl. She insists I won the watch purely on luck, but I swear she secretly pulled some strings.” “Your girl… what exactly does she do?” He blinked, adopting a secretive little smirk. “She’s just a regular working-class girl, honestly.” “But I feel like she’s hiding something from me,” he continued. “Did you know this watch just hit the market? You can only get it at exclusive boutiques. I mentioned it to her exactly once. Isn’t that crazy?” He leaned in a little closer. “Jake, do you think all women like to play poor just to test their boyfriends?” A regular working-class girl. Playing poor. I thought about my actual poor girlfriend, and my mind completely blanked. A sudden, violent wave of nausea hit my stomach. I couldn’t breathe. Finn noticed my face draining of color. “Jake? Are you okay? You look like a ghost.” I swallowed the bile rising in my throat and forced another weak smile. “I’m fine. Just had a bit too much to drink. Feel a little sick.” He nodded, not prying further. He was too caught up in his own perfect world. “I really think she’s my personal wishing well,” he rambled on. “With my resume, I never should have gotten into this firm. I made one passing comment to her about applying, and the very next day HR sent me an offer.” “And get this. Even though she’s always stuck in the hospital, I told her last week I needed a new phone. The next morning, her driver dropped the latest model off at my front door.” I stared at his bright, beaming face, my ears ringing. The only word echoing in my skull was hospital. Something tight and painful twisted in my chest. I couldn’t stop myself from asking. “Wait. You said she’s in the hospital?” “Yeah.” Finn laughed lightly. “It’s nothing serious. Just a minor health thing.” A minor health thing. The air left my lungs in a quiet rush of relief. That didn’t match Diana’s severe spinal issues. Not even close. I gave a slow nod. “If she’s arranging all this for you from a hospital bed, she must really care about you.” “That’s what everyone says.” He rubbed the back of his neck again. “Anyway, I gotta run. My girl said she wants to celebrate tonight. See ya.” I stood frozen in the cool evening breeze. I looked at the multi-million dollar watch strapped to his healthy, youthful wrist. Then I looked down at my own hands. My lower back ached a dull, persistent pain from three years of lifting and turning Diana in her bed. I didn’t own a single decent accessory. The gap between two people’s lives could be an absolute abyss. My phone vibrated in my pocket. A text from Diana. [How was the retreat? Did you have fun?] I stared at the glowing screen. Out of pure habit, I typed a cheerful lie. [It was great. I even won a nice tumbler.] The truth was, everyone who didn’t win a real prize was handed a tumbler. [Well, at least you didn’t leave empty-handed. I’ll buy you something much better in the future.] The future. She had been feeding me that word for three years, and like a fool, I always swallowed it down. We were broke now, but the doctors said her condition was curable. She just needed two more years of intense rehabilitation. All I had to do was grit my teeth and push through. I locked my screen and headed toward the street to pick up the custom cake I had ordered. Another message popped up. [It’s getting late. Just go home and rest tonight. Don’t come all the way here, I don’t want you exhausting yourself.] I stared at the words, my thumb hovering over the glass. Today was my birthday. We had made plans an entire week ago. I was supposed to bring home a raffle prize as my own gift, buy a cake, and celebrate in her room. Did she forget? I hesitated for a long moment, but I still went to the bakery. I picked up the box, stood on the curb, and flagged down a cab. “Mercy General, please.” When I stepped off the elevator and approached the nurses’ station, the night-shift nurse glanced up. All the color instantly drained from her face. “M-Mr. Jake?” 2 She shot out of her chair so fast it nearly tipped over backward. “What are you doing here?” “Visiting hours,” I said simply. “It’s so late.” Her eyes darted nervously toward Room 606. Her voice was tight. “Diana is already asleep. Maybe you should come back tomorrow.” “It’s my birthday today.” I took two steps forward, my tone even. “It won’t mean anything if I wait until tomorrow.” She stepped out from behind the desk, physically blocking my path. I stared at her. My chest tightened. In three years, the staff had never once stopped me from walking into that room. “I’m just going to take a quick look.” I sidestepped her, walking straight down the hall, and pushed open the door to Room 606. I froze. The bed was perfectly made. Empty. The nurse ran in behind me, panting heavily. “Where is she?” I turned around, my eyes locking onto hers. She forced an agonizingly fake smile. “Diana had to… she had to go down for a late-night scan.” “A late-night scan?” I frowned, the unease in my gut twisting tighter. “A minute ago you said she was asleep. And since when does her treatment plan include midnight scans?” The nurse avoided my gaze, her fingers fidgeting. “I just remembered the schedule.” Before she could invent another excuse, my phone erupted in a violent vibration. It was my department director. A massive crisis with our current project. Everyone was ordered back to the office immediately. I closed my eyes. This project was tied to a two-hundred-thousand-dollar bonus. I gritted my teeth, shoving the bakery box into the nurse’s hands. “Please. When she gets back, give this to her. Tell her she has to eat it. Inside there is…” I stopped myself. I didn’t finish the sentence. Inside that cake was a diamond ring. I had saved up three months of my salary to buy it. I wanted to propose to her on my birthday. I wanted to give her the security she always cried about lacking, to prove I would never abandon her. The baker had buried it deep in the sponge. Digging it out now would ruin the whole thing. An ordinary guy’s proposal didn’t need to be some grand spectacle. The intention was what mattered. The nurse looked overwhelmingly relieved to have me leaving. “Of course, Mr. Jake. I’ll make sure she eats it.” The second I rushed into the office, my director’s message popped up on my screen. “The rest of the team has kids and families to get home to, or they lack the technical skills. I need you to rewrite the entire proposal. Thanks for stepping up.” I let out a long, exhausted breath. It was always like this. Every single emergency, every impossible deadline fell squarely on my shoulders. Everyone else had a wife, a husband, kids, aging parents. And me? My parents passed away years ago, I had no kids, and my girlfriend was confined to a hospital bed. “Thanks for stepping up” was corporate code for “you have no life, so do the work.” And despite all this, I was the one constantly ending up on the chopping block during layoff season. I sank into my chair and started rewriting the data. I worked in a brutal, caffeine-fueled haze until three in the morning. Finally, my director sent a one-line reply. “Never mind, the client decided to go with the original version.” I stared at the blinding white screen. A bitter, hollow laugh escaped my lips. I pulled out my phone and sent Diana a text. [Emergency at work. Couldn’t make it. Please make sure you eat the cake.] My brain was entirely fried. I hit send, crossed my arms on my desk, and passed out right there. When dawn broke, the office slowly filled with the hum of arriving coworkers. I bolted upright and immediately checked my phone. No new messages. Not a single “Happy Birthday.” My heart sank like a stone. “Morning, Jake!” Finn dropped his designer leather bag onto the desk next to mine. “Everything get sorted with the project last night?” I blinked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. He was in a completely different division. How did he know about my project emergency? Before I could ask, a notification flashed across the company-wide chat. [Mandatory morning assembly. Attendance required.] My pulse jumped. A few days ago, the regional director pulled me into his office. He praised my numbers and heavily implied the open Vice President slot in Division One was practically mine. They were going to announce it today. “Another meeting.” Finn groaned, rolling his eyes as he headed for the door. He clapped me on the shoulder as he passed. “Let’s go, Jake. Better not be late.” I shook off my exhaustion and followed him into the conference room. The moment I stepped through the double doors, the atmosphere felt entirely wrong. “There he is,” someone whispered loudly. “You gotta feel bad for the guy. Working a corporate job all day and moonlighting as a male nurse all night. No wonder he looks half-dead.” “Milking the company for overtime pay isn’t enough, he has to work two jobs? Isn’t moonlighting a fireable offense here?” I frowned, my chest tightening. They were talking about me. 3 When the company did its last round of layoffs, I surrendered my right to overtime pay just to keep my position. Between my daytime hours and spending every night at the hospital caring for Diana, I barely had time to sleep. I definitely didn’t have time for a second job. The HR Director stepped up to the podium, tapping the microphone. He gave a brief corporate speech before pulling out the promotion list. I held my breath. For once, there were no data leaks, no client back-outs, no mysterious blunders attached to my name. I was finally going to get the title and the salary I bled for. Then the HR Director spoke, and his words hit me like a bucket of ice water. “The new Vice President of Division One is Finn!” The room fell dead silent for a second before polite, scattered applause broke out. Finn stood up, flashing a brilliant, humble smile as he bowed slightly to the room. “Why?” I shot up from my seat. My chair scraped violently across the hardwood floor. The HR Director pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his expression entirely devoid of sympathy. “Jake, do you have an issue with this decision?” He paused, likely realizing that ignoring my track record outright would look terrible. “You are a highly capable employee. On paper, you are more than qualified for the VP role. However, moonlighting as an outside caregiver violates your employment contract.” “I am not moonlighting,” I argued, my voice echoing in the quiet room. Before I could finish, the projector screen behind him flickered to life. It was a slideshow of photographs. Me, leaning over a hospital bed. Me, wiping a patient’s face with a warm towel. Me, massaging someone’s atrophied legs. They didn’t capture Diana’s face clearly, but the man doing the grueling, intimate work was undeniably me. The words died in my throat. When the assembly ended, the crowd filtered out in small, gossiping groups. Finn strolled over to me, lowering his voice to a sympathetic hum. “Jake, I’ve heard so much about you. Stanford grad, hardest worker in the building. Everyone knows you’re the absolute best.” He offered a soft, almost innocent smile. “Just yesterday, I was telling my girl how nice it would be to have the best employee in the company working under me. That way, I could sleep in a little later.” “And look at that. Today I’m the VP. I’m your boss.” His eyes sparkled with amusement. “Crazy coincidence, right? You think my girl set this up too?” I slowly raised my head to look at him. My eyes dragged away from my phone screen, where a new email from HR had just dropped. [Notice of Reassignment: North African Branch] It felt like someone had shoved a fistful of cotton down my windpipe. I couldn’t speak. I didn’t even wait for the clock to hit five. I walked out of the building, hailed a cab, and headed straight for Mercy General. All I could think about on the ride over was how I was going to explain this to Diana. The promotion I had promised her was gone. Instead, I had a one-way ticket to a developing country. I pushed open the door to Room 606. She was lying in bed, the white blanket pulled up to her chest. She looked mildly surprised to see me. “Jake? Isn’t it the middle of the workday? What are you doing here?” I didn’t say a word. “What’s wrong? Did someone give you a hard time?” She pushed herself up slightly, patting the edge of the mattress. “Come sit. I’m here. Who messed with you?” A sharp burn stung the back of my eyes. I was half a second away from telling her everything. That I was refusing the transfer. That I was going to quit and find something else. But I swallowed the words down. She was recovering. I couldn’t pile my failures onto her fragile health. “I took some time off. Just wanted to see you.” I pulled up a plastic chair and sat down, my eyes dropping to the blanket covering her motionless legs. “How are you feeling today?” “Alright.” She coughed softly. “Physical therapy was exhausting.” I nodded. My mind drifted to last night. To the cake. My gaze shifted to her right hand resting on the sheets. To her ring finger. My heart skipped a violent beat. She was wearing a ring. “Jake,” she murmured, reaching out to cup my hand. “You worked all night again, didn’t you? You sacrifice so much for me.” “When I’m completely better, I’ll never let you suffer like this again. You can do whatever you want. You won’t have to take orders from anyone.” She had recited that exact script for three years. And every time, it made the exhaustion feel worth it. Even though she hadn’t mentioned my birthday once. It didn’t matter. She was wearing the ring. That was all the answer I needed. “Yeah.” I nodded gently, my thumb brushing against the cool metal on her finger. I slowly turned the band around, my chest tight with emotion. “Diana, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you. Let’s get mar—” The words froze on my tongue. I stared at the jewelry. This wasn’t the ring I bought. “What is it?” she asked, sensing my sudden rigidity. I stood up so fast the chair wobbled. “Nothing. Nothing… I have to get back to the office. I only took a two-hour lunch.” She nodded and told me to be careful on the way back. I practically sprinted out of the hospital room. I closed the door, my ears buzzing with white noise. When it rains, it pours. My life was becoming a tragic comedy. The baker must have lost the ring I gave him and panicked, buying a cheap replica to hide in the cake instead. He had no idea what he had done. The ring I bought had the numbers “328” hand-engraved on the inner band. It was the date of our anniversary. It meant everything. Ten minutes into my cab ride back to the office, I reached into my pocket and realized my desk keys were missing. I had left them on the plastic chair in Diana’s room. I rubbed my temples. “Driver, turn around. Back to the hospital.” The cab idled outside the main entrance. I jogged up the stairs, navigating the familiar sterile corridors. I reached Room 606 and raised my hand to push the door. Voices drifted from the crack in the doorway. Voices that had no business being in a patient’s room. 4 I froze in my tracks. “Ms. Diana, everything you requested has been handled.” “Jake’s promotion was successfully intercepted. The VP title was given to Finn.” “You and Finn were out together yesterday and Jake nearly caught you. Thankfully, you know Jake’s habits perfectly. You had me watching him like a hawk. The second he showed up at the hospital, I had his director call him back to the office for emergency revisions.” “And just like the previous times, the leaked proposals, the clients backing out, the slashed budgets… all executed exactly to your orders.” “The goal remains the same. Ensure his bank account is drained perfectly to cover your ‘medical expenses.’ Make sure he never saves a single dime.” I stood in the hallway, my knees threatening to buckle beneath me. Ms. Diana? Intercepted? Never saves a single dime… I clenched my fists so hard my nails bit into my palms. I clamped my jaw shut to keep from making a sound. “That big project he just finished was supposed to carry a two-hundred-thousand-dollar bonus. I had HR freeze it. He’s only getting two thousand.” Silence stretched inside the room for a few agonizing seconds. Then, Diana’s voice cut through the air. It wasn’t weak. It wasn’t sick. It was cold, steady, and sharp. “Good.” “But, Ms. Diana,” Marcus, her assistant, sounded slightly hesitant. “How much longer do you plan on keeping up this act?” “With Jake’s resume and work ethic, if he were at any other firm, he’d be a senior executive by now. He genuinely thinks he’s just cursed with bad luck.” “But we both know there’s no curse. It’s just us, ruining his life behind the scenes.” “Honestly, the fact that he’s endured this for three years without breaking… his devotion is incredible.” Diana was quiet for a long moment before she replied with chilling indifference. “I originally planned to test him for two more years. See if he could survive five years of pressure.” “But Finn is young and naive. He just entered the corporate world, he needs guidance. I need to resume my actual identity as soon as possible.” Marcus probed gently, “And if Jake discovers that you are actually the CEO of the entire company?” “Didn’t I tell you to issue his transfer to the North African branch? Effective in twenty-four hours.” Her tone was casual, yet horribly confident. “The timeline is impossible. He refuses to leave my bedside, so there’s no way he’ll take the transfer. He’ll voluntarily resign to stay in the city. Once he’s out of the company, he’ll never figure out who I really am.” I stood outside the door. My blood ran like ice water through my veins. A moment later, I pulled my phone from my pocket. I opened the email from HR, typed a single sentence, and hit send. [I accept the transfer.] Inside the room, Diana leaned comfortably against her pillows. She stared down at the silver band resting on her ring finger. Marcus followed her gaze and asked carefully, “When you ordered me to buy an exact replica of the ring hidden inside the cake last night, do you think Jake noticed?” Diana didn’t answer. “Finn is so playful. He insisted on digging the ring out of the cake to play with it,” Marcus chose his words with extreme caution. “And then he accidentally dropped it down the toilet.” “But that ring… considering Jake hid it inside his own birthday cake, it must have meant the world to him…” “I know,” she cut him off sharply. She pulled the replica off her finger and tossed it onto the nightstand. “Now is not the time.” She picked up the set of keys resting on the chair. The keychain was a faded, scuffed little basketball. A gift she had given him the day they made things official. It was so worn the original colors were entirely gone. Careless man. He’d probably come rushing back for them soon. “You should leave before he sees you,” she told Marcus. “Understood… Oh, right, Ms. Diana.” Marcus paused at the door. “You feigned this illness for three years to lay low and force your cousin into a false sense of security.” “But he was arrested last month. Your exile is over. Eleanor expects you back at the family estate tomorrow.” “I know.” She worked on her laptop late into the night. When she finally rubbed her eyes and checked the time, she realized the owner of those keys had never returned. Frowning, she snapped a picture of the keychain and texted him. [Jake, I have your keys!] No response. She glanced out at the pitch-black sky, assuming he had passed out from exhaustion again. The next morning, she left the hospital early to attend high-level family meetings at her estate. By the time she returned to Room 606, it was three in the afternoon. She unlocked her phone. The chat history was dead silent. Not even a punctuation mark in reply. He had gone an entire twenty-four hours without checking in. That had never happened before. As she stared at the screen, her phone suddenly began ringing frantically. It was the Director of Operations. His voice was hoarse with panic. “Ms. Diana, it’s a disaster!” “Riots broke out in North Africa. A militant group bombed the branch headquarters.” “The employee who just transferred from New York… he was killed in the blast.” 5 Diana was silent for two excruciating seconds. Her voice came out as cold and rigid as steel. “Have the security division handle it. Issue the payouts. Manage the family’s grief.” “Yes, ma’am…” She hung up the phone before he could finish. “Diana!” Finn practically kicked the door open, strutting inside. He carried a heavy thermos, his face plastered with sheer triumph. “I got the VP spot! I made you some bone broth to celebrate. It’s supposed to be great for recovery.” Diana pressed the power button on her phone, tossing it onto the sheets. Finn set the thermos on the bedside table, laughing brightly. “I swear, everything I tell you comes true. The universe just loves me!” He unscrewed the lid, the smell of mediocre soup filling the room. “Try it. I spent all afternoon making this.” Diana took the bowl, took a small sip, and set it down. “It’s fine.” Finn looked at her, his eyes shining with adoration. “Then I’ll make it for you every single day. How does that sound?” Diana didn’t answer. It sounded awful. It tasted like dishwater compared to the meals Jake cooked for her. Over the years, Jake had completely ruined her palate for anything else. Even the Michelin-starred chefs her family employed couldn’t recreate the warmth in his cooking. “Oh, right,” Finn said, noticing her blank stare. “Didn’t you promise that once I got promoted, you had a massive secret to tell me?” Two sharp knocks interrupted them. Marcus stepped into the room holding a sleek leather folder. “Ms. Diana, the paperwork is finalized.” “Your discharge papers, along with the corporate press release, are ready. The board of directors has been notified of your official return.” Diana offered a faint, dismissive “Mhm.” Finn stood frozen, his eyes wide as saucers. “Diana… what did he just call you? Ms. Diana? Like… the CEO?” Marcus offered a thin, patronizing smile. “Finn, did you honestly believe a regular working-class girl would have a personal executive assistant?” “Ms. Diana is the Chief Executive Officer of this firm. She has merely been… on sabbatical these past few years.” Finn stared at the documents in Marcus’s hands. “So… the promotions, the transfers, me getting hired…” “All orchestrated by the CEO,” Marcus finished for her. Finn turned slowly to look at Diana, the tips of his ears burning bright red. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Diana’s tone remained flat. “I’m telling you now. Starting tomorrow, I am returning to the Manhattan office in my full capacity.” “Keep your head down and do the work. From now on, you’ll have to earn your keep.” Finn bit his lip, dropping his gaze to the floor. His fingers nervously twisted the hem of his designer shirt. After a long, suffocating silence, he asked in a small voice, “What about your boyfriend? Does he know?” Diana didn’t answer the question. She simply picked up the battered basketball keychain resting on the nightstand, her thumb brushing over the scuffed rubber. “He’s a sensible man. He’ll understand.” Finn nodded quietly. Once the room was empty, Diana picked up her phone. She opened her chat with Jake and typed out a message. [Jake, why are you ignoring me?] [The doctors said I’m practically fully recovered. I’m being discharged tomorrow.] She hit send and stared at the screen, waiting for the little typing bubble to appear. Waiting for the flood of joyful, relieved messages he always sent. Nothing. She tossed the phone back onto the table. He was probably just stressing over finding a new job. Trying to hide his unemployment from her so she wouldn’t worry. He had a terrible habit of carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and smiling through it. Once he saw the text, he would be ecstatic. His one true dream in life was for her to walk again. He wanted them to sit in a bustling diner and eat a hot meal together. He wanted to walk through a grocery store without checking his watch. He wanted to hold her hand walking down the sidewalk like a normal couple.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “437429”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

A long time after breaking up with the heir to the Sterling Group, he had already found someone new. He blocked my resources and snatched a role I had spent six months preparing for, just to pave the way for his new flame. On the day I won the Best Actress award, the host asked me: “I heard that the theme song ‘Prayers,’ which you sang when you first debuted, was named after the love of your life?” In the audience, Julian Sterling suddenly looked up, his face full of disbelief. Very few people knew that the heir to the Sterling Group was named Julian. Until this moment, he didn’t realize that I had once loved him with all my heart. Hiding his name in a song title. But now, I just shook my head and smilingly denied it: “That’s all in the past.” 1 On the way to the film festival, my manager, Sarah, informed me with a grim expression: “Our endorsement contract with Dior for the Asian region has been terminated. They’ve replaced you with Mia Jiang again.” I calmly lowered my eyes and said, “I’m used to it.” She lit a cigarette, unable to suppress her anxiety: “How many resources has she snatched from you this year? From the lead role in Director Lee’s new movie, to top-tier commercial and variety show contracts, and now the most important blue-blood luxury endorsement you had. That lead role in Director Lee’s movie—you prepared for it for six months, kept your schedule clear for a year, gained twenty pounds, and then lost it again. Just as filming started, they swapped you out.” The endorsements and resources were one thing, but I couldn’t let go of that movie role. I pulled the cigarette from Sarah’s fingers. My eyes stung slightly, and I reminded her softly: “Sarah. There’s nothing we can do.” There was nothing we could do. Because backing Mia Jiang was the heir to the Sterling Group, Julian Sterling. The Sterling family held controlling stakes in much of the domestic entertainment industry. Even our own agency was no exception. Mia Jiang was the only girlfriend Julian had ever publicly acknowledged. Within a year of entering the industry, she was already working with famous directors and producers. This time, she was nominated alongside me for Best Actress at the film festival. Julian was lifting her up, making sure to place the absolute best right in front of her. It just so happened that I was in the way. Sarah looked at me: “If you end up being a placeholder for Mia Jiang again this time, and get mocked on the trending topics, you won’t even get a look at any good scripts anymore.” Relying on Director Lee’s movie, Mia Jiang received an award nomination in her first year in the entertainment industry. I started my career from the bottom, working as an extra and a stand-in. Over the years, I became an acclaimed actress, nominated multiple times, but always going home empty-handed. My haters mocked me, calling me the “Almost-Best-Actress.” I looked out the car window at the endless stream of traffic. If I went home empty-handed again, my situation would only become more difficult. Still resentful about the lost luxury endorsement, Sarah spoke without thinking: “Scarlett, you used to be with Julian too. How come he never paved the way for you like this?” I pulled my gaze back from the window, fell silent for a moment, and looked at Sarah. My voice was very light: “Sarah. I was just dating him.” I wasn’t “with” him in that transactional sense. I wasn’t kept like a canary in a gilded cage. We were dating. That’s all. But everyone else didn’t think so. 2 Because he and I belonged to entirely different social classes. We were never on equal footing from the start. Actually, Julian had done something like that for me, but not often—just once. It was for a top-tier fashion resource that every female artist in the country fought tooth and nail for. Sarah had racked her brains figuring out how to get the brand to notice me. But Julian used his private jet to fly me to Europe to attend a small, private dinner hosted by Dior’s CEO. Upon my return, I received the invitation to be the brand ambassador for the Asia-Pacific region. But I was quiet on the flight back. While the plane cruised at an altitude of tens of thousands of feet, Julian knelt on one knee in front of me, cupped my face, and laughed in exasperation: “Why are you suddenly upset for no reason?” I wasn’t angry. I just… didn’t know what to say. “Julian, everything you give me is too expensive. Please don’t do this anymore.” Julian laughed, leaning in until our noses touched, his warm breath falling on my face: “Compared to my entire heart, what is this? We’re dating. What’s wrong with me treating you well? My only fear is that I can’t give you enough.” His nuzzling tickled. I pressed my lips together, and the question I had wanted to ask remained unspoken. If, one day, you don’t like me anymore, how will we settle the score for all these things? If you give your heart to someone else, what then? Now, I already have the answer. Regardless of whether he gave it or not. He will take it all back. 3 The red carpet moment before the film festival is always considered a highlight. Before I even finished walking my section, a commotion erupted behind me, and the cameras of the media and photographers instantly swiveled away. I looked back, and sure enough, it was Mia Jiang. But there was someone beside her—Julian. They were arriving together. Julian had always been extremely reluctant to expose himself to the public eye. I never expected him to be willing to walk the red carpet with Mia Jiang. He saw me, but withdrew his gaze in an instant, looking down to help Mia arrange the train of her dress. Mia asked, “What’s wrong?” I heard him chuckle softly: “Nothing, just a passerby.” 4 During the Best Actress award presentation, the host read my name twice before I dazedly stood up. The large screen on the stage was playing clips of my performance in the film. Amidst the cheers, the moment I took the trophy, I finally realized that I had won. Julian and Mia were sitting in the front row. Having just lost, Mia’s face was ashen. Julian kept his eyes lowered, ignoring Mia. It was as if he was carefully listening to my acceptance speech. My acceptance speech was very long. Name after name tumbled from my lips in gratitude. By the end, Julian’s name still hadn’t appeared. The person who used to hold the number one spot on my list of gratitude had long been personally erased by me. I could only see his jaw clenched, as cold as iron. The host was a famous comedian in the country. While lightening the mood, the host joked: “Scarlett, Reddit has dug up all your stories. I heard that the theme song ‘Prayers,’ which you sang when you first debuted, was named after the love of your life?” Back then, I not only sang the theme song but also wrote the lyrics for it. Selfishly, I hid the name of the person I loved most in the song title. (Note: ‘Prayers’ in Chinese is ‘Qi’, sharing the same character as Julian’s Chinese name ‘Yan Qi’). I saw Julian in the audience suddenly look up, his face full of disbelief. Very few people knew that the heir to the Sterling Group was named Julian. Until this moment, he didn’t realize that I had once loved him with all my heart. I looked at a panicked Mia next to Julian, shook my head, and smilingly denied it: “That’s all in the past.” 5 After returning to my seat with the award, my hands and heart were burning hot, and it took all my willpower not to cry. Before the film festival, the industry hadn’t been optimistic about my chances of winning. The hot favorite was Director Lee’s leading lady, Mia Jiang. I never expected to pull off such an upset. Suddenly, a tissue was handed to me, accompanied by a low voice: “The cameras aren’t panning this way right now. Dry your tears.” Sitting next to me was the Grand Slam Best Actor, Caleb Thorne, a true genius of an actor. He was the male lead in the film I won the award for, and we shared many scenes together. If it hadn’t been for Caleb’s recommendation, the director wouldn’t have thought to let me audition; if it hadn’t been for his acting, I couldn’t have gotten so deep into character and performed at an unprecedented level. But I looked at the tissue in front of me, my fingers curling slightly before I took it, softly saying: “Thank you.” Caleb didn’t say anything more, just gave a guttural “hmm,” his eyes on the stage, as aloof and unapproachable as the rumors suggested. It was just like… The day we wrapped filming. By the sea where we shot, the moonlight spilled across the water. Caleb had confessed his feelings to me, but acted as if nothing had ever happened. 6 The atmosphere within my team when we left was completely different from when we arrived. Sarah was glowing, sweeping away all the previous gloom. Before getting into the car, I was stopped by a few fans who popped out of nowhere. The security guards wanted to drive them away, but I stopped them. I signed autographs for each of them. They were young girls who had traveled God knows how far, and it would be a shame for them to leave empty-handed. As I finished the last stroke of my signature, I heard someone call out to me from behind. The final stroke of my name became slightly stiff. Julian stood a short distance behind me, calling out: “Scarlett.” I kept my eyes lowered, pretending I didn’t hear him. Smiling, I said a few parting words to my fans, then, with my assistant helping with my dress, I got into the car. The engine started, the window half-rolled down. I saw the smiling faces of the fans outside, and Julian standing alone. The arrogant young master’s usual swagger was completely gone. A pair of peach-blossom eyes held no laughter, only a silent, dazed stare directed at me. The last time he called my name like this was the day we broke up. Back then, utterly disappointed and furious, he had said: “Scarlett, you say you love me. Why have I never felt your love?” Through the car window, I waved to my fans and Julian from afar, a peaceful smile on my face, like a final goodbye. The luxury van drove forward. Julian, go look for the answer. If you’re willing to. In those expired memories, maybe there is the answer you’re looking for. But that’s all in the past now. 7 After returning, I was removing my makeup. My assistant, who was a pro at internet surfing, let out an “Ah,” and handed me her phone: “Scarlett, your expired ship is trending.” Tonight, all the trending topics were about the film festival, and I alone occupied several spots. But the number one trending topic was actually a Reddit thread digging up my first love. It had become the top legendary thread on Reddit, titled “Best Actress Scarlett and the Summer She Was Blessed By Him.” The naming of the song “Prayers” was uncovered here. I pressed my lips together and read through the long post, feeling a bit dazed. I had forgotten some of these things myself. Once, when I was filming at Mount Rainier, I had purposely climbed to the snowy peak to hang a red prayer ribbon for Julian. A local TV station was randomly interviewing citizens and tourists, asking them to say a few words to the person they were praying for. Wearing a mask, I smiled and said: “Julian, it’s so cold.” Julian, of course, would never watch a small local TV station. So he never knew that the snow on Mount Rainier fell so heavily that day. The accuracy of the post was actually quite high. It even included a very old interview of mine. Back then, my face was still youthful, and I smiled as I envisioned the future: “If I can win an award one day, he will definitely be the first person on my thank-you list.” The reporter pressed: “Who is he?” In the video, I smiled until my eyes crinkled, but didn’t answer. But on my thank-you list tonight, the first person was the female director of my previous film, thanking her for recognizing my talent. It wasn’t the person I had promised back then. We had already broken up ungracefully; there was already no ending for us. Netizens could tell that my romance had long since had a bad ending. Yet, they were shipping this expired couple so hard they were laughing and crying at the same time. Everyone guessed every male actor I had ever worked with, but no one had a clue. Julian’s name never appeared from beginning to end, and only then did I feel relieved. Netizens can easily go overboard when shipping couples, not to mention that Julian already has another girlfriend now. The internet will forget about this in two days anyway. 8 After winning the award, scripts from famous directors came flooding in. My manager, Sarah, and I were still picking out scripts. There was a transition period between now and the scheduled start date of the script we favored. Sarah arranged for me to be a judge on a highly acclaimed acting competition reality show called “The Actor’s True Colors.” Record one episode and leave. But I didn’t expect to run into so many familiar faces. Among the judges was Caleb Thorne, the Best Actor I had just worked with. I ran into Mia Jiang head-on. Only then did I learn she was participating in this reality show as a contestant. The show’s producers sure knew how to generate buzz. The two of us had just competed for the Best Actress crown at the film festival, and now we were reunited in an acting competition show. The difference was, this time I was a judge, and Mia was a contestant. The ratings were guaranteed to skyrocket. This time, unusually, I didn’t see Julian accompany Mia to the recording set. I heard he cares about her very much. Every time she joins a cast, he accompanies her to check the set’s safety facilities and living conditions. Rumor in the industry was that Julian was the epitome of a devoted, twenty-four-karat good boyfriend. With Julian’s arrogant, young master demeanor, it was hard to imagine him associated with that title. Before the show officially started recording. I had debuted many years earlier than Mia, so I was considered her senior. We sort of knew each other, so I gave her a polite, neutral smile. Just as we were about to brush past each other. Mia called out to me: “Scarlett, I haven’t congratulated you on winning Best Actress yet.” I stopped and turned around. Mia stood there, the corners of her mouth curling up: “Originally, my boyfriend thought I was going to win. He forced me to memorize a long acceptance speech thanking him before the film festival. He’s so childish.” I looked at her quietly. Waiting for her next sentence. Mia’s smile faltered, the corners of her lips drooping as she continued: “But maybe you don’t know, my boyfriend is Julian Sterling. He said the song ‘Prayers’ you wrote the lyrics for is really awful to listen to, and he hopes you won’t use it to disgust him again in the future.” I wasn’t angry. I thought for a moment before offering a bland critique: “Then you two are quite alike. His taste and your acting are equally terrible.” 9 Mia had always had smooth sailing and had never heard such blunt criticism before. She turned pale with anger. If it hadn’t been for the famous director, a great script, and top-tier production backing her, she wouldn’t have even had a chance to be nominated alongside me. I ignored her and walked forward. Turning the corner, I realized someone was standing there. Caleb leaned against the wall, biting down on a cigarette, but unlit. The clear sunlight fell on his face, making him look even more aloof. I never expected him to participate in this variety show. He didn’t even do interviews or commercials, keeping an extremely low profile. I pressed my lips together and called his name, not knowing how much he had just heard: “Caleb.” He turned his head and gave a slight nod. He must have been passing by, accidentally witnessed the confrontation between the two actresses, and had to avoid us to stay out of the drama. He tossed the unlit cigarette into the trash can. Caleb opened his mouth, his voice low and raspy: “The production team is looking for us. Let’s go together.” He wasn’t a man of many words. Even though we had worked together on a movie set for half a year and shared a lot of intense scenes, we weren’t particularly close. Walking side by side down the quiet hallway. The man beside me, with his cold demeanor, suddenly dropped a sentence. Caleb said: “Your ex-boyfriend’s taste is indeed terrible enough.”

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1 On my wedding day, as Dennis waited at the altar, I did not run. Instead, I walked toward him arm in arm with his biggest rival, holding up a newly stamped document. “You can keep the wedding party,” I said calmly. “I already gave him the marriage license.” The night before, a hotel keycard had led me to the same suite where Dennis once proposed. But inside, I found him in bed with another woman. He barely flinched, lighting a cigarette as he explained he was tired of hiding the affair. “You’ll still be my wife,” he shrugged, claiming no one else would marry me after the ten years I’d spent building his company. “The wedding goes on—just not with her name on the license.” I didn’t scream or cry. Silently, I slid off my engagement ring, set it down, and walked out. The morning sun felt unnaturally bright. “Here she comes. The bride is finally coming out.” A swarm of paparazzi crowded the entrance of my hotel. Camera flashes blinded me like strobe lights. “Mona, how are you feeling on your big day?” “What do you have to say about the multimillion-dollar wedding Dennis prepared for you?” I ignored the microphones shoved in my face and stepped into the back of the waiting Maybach under the protection of my security detail. The ceremony was set to take place at Trinity Cathedral on the Upper East Side. Dennis was already standing on the stone steps of the church. He wore a pristine white tuxedo and a smile that screamed absolute control. He had called me earlier that morning. He complained that he was exhausted from his extracurricular activities last night and needed to sleep in, which was his excuse for not picking me up from the hotel. He was incredibly confident that I would still show up. His best man, Carter, let out a loud whistle as my car pulled up. He nudged Dennis in the ribs, flashing a sleazy grin. “She actually came.” “You have some serious game, man,” Carter chuckled. “You play around all night, and your bride still shows up looking like an angel. That is what I call proper training.” Another groomsman, Nate, leaned in to join the joke. “No kidding. Any other guy would be dead on his feet after a night like that, but you are standing here looking like the groom of the year. Respect.” The group of men broke into a chorus of arrogant laughter. The corner of Dennis’s mouth twitched upward. “Mona has been attached to me for a decade,” he said, his voice dripping with condescension. “Who else would possibly want her?” He glanced down at his pocket, likely thinking about the ring I had left behind. “Throwing a little temper tantrum is normal. But at the end of the day, she is still going to walk up those steps and hand her life over to me.” Carter gave him a thumbs-up. The chauffeur opened my door. I stepped out onto the pavement, the layers of my custom silk gown catching the morning light. A flash of genuine awe crossed Dennis’s face. “My wife looks absolutely stunning,” he murmured. Before he could step forward to take my hand, his phone buzzed violently in his pocket. He glanced at the screen, and his attention was completely stolen. A fond, indulgent smile spread across his lips as he stepped away from the crowd to answer the call. “What is wrong? I told you to call me later.” A sickeningly sweet, whiny voice filtered through the speaker, loud enough for me to hear. “Dennis, I am flying out to Paris this afternoon. I booked an appointment at City Hall in ten minutes. Can you please come down here? I really want to get our paperwork signed before I leave.” “Ten minutes?” Dennis let out a low, teasing laugh. “Are you really in that much of a rush?” He hung up the phone. Carter stepped closer, looking curious. “Who was that?” “Brianna.” Dennis slipped the phone back into his tailored pocket, his eyes shining with a fresh spark of excitement. “She is flying to Europe this afternoon and insists on signing the marriage license before she goes. She was whining so much I could not say no.” Carter raised his eyebrows. “What about your wedding?” “What is the rush?” Dennis brushed off the concern entirely. “The ceremony takes at least two hours. I will run down to City Hall. It will only take ten minutes. You know how Brianna is. If I do not go coax her right now, she will actually throw a crying fit at the airport.” Carter knew better than to argue with him. Dennis walked back over to me, casually wrapping an arm around my shoulders. He waved at the official wedding photographer. “Take a quick picture of us for the memories.” The shutter clicked once, and Dennis immediately checked his luxury watch. “Alright, that is enough for now. I have to leave, or I will miss my appointment.” He turned his back on me and started walking briskly toward his private SUV. “Dennis.” I stood perfectly still on the pavement and called his name. He paused, turning his head to look over his shoulder. His eyes still held that careless, arrogant certainty. “If you leave right now,” I said, enunciating every single word, “I am going to swap the groom.” He stared at me for a second before bursting into laughter. It was a mocking, dismissive sound. “Swap the groom? Where exactly are you going to find one? Do you think we are living in a soap opera?” “Everyone in this city knows you belong to me.” “But hey,” he added, pulling his car door open, “if you actually have the skills to find a man brave enough to marry you today, I will gladly give you my blessing.” He threw one last patronizing look my way. “Stop throwing tantrums, be a good girl, and wait for me inside. I know how to handle these girls on the side. I have limits.” The groomsmen standing behind him exchanged awkward glances. Carter took a few steps forward. “Dennis, are you seriously leaving?” “Just keep the guests entertained. It is not like I am disappearing forever.” Dennis slammed his car door shut. His voice was laced with impatience and eagerness. “That little girl is way too much trouble to pacify. I do not want a headache later.” The engine roared, and the SUV sped down the avenue, disappearing into the city traffic. I stood completely alone on the church steps. The wind caught the long train of my veil, whipping it through the air. The photographer lowered his camera, shifting his weight uncomfortably in the deafening silence. Nobody dared to speak. I looked down at the empty space on my left ring finger, and a slow, genuine smile spread across my face. Go ahead, Dennis. Go sign your little piece of paper. Because I am going to happily accept this multimillion-dollar wedding you left behind. I gathered the heavy fabric of my skirt and walked gracefully into the cathedral. The guests were seated, the priest was waiting at the altar, and the string quartet was already playing the bridal chorus. Everything was absolutely flawless. The only thing missing was the groom. Carter rushed up beside me, forcing a stiff, awkward smile onto his face. “Mona, Dennis had a tiny emergency. He will be right back. Why do you not just take a seat in the bridal suite for a bit?” Nate hurried over to back him up. “Exactly. You know Dennis always has his priorities straight. It is your big day. He will be here any minute.” “Yeah, Dennis never drops the ball when it matters.” They talked over each other, desperately trying to spin a runaway groom into a minor scheduling delay. I glanced up at the massive vintage clock near the stained glass window. It was twenty minutes to eleven. “Okay. I will wait for him.” I dismissed them with a calm nod. Carter let out a massive sigh of relief and immediately started ordering the catering staff to bring me water and appetizers. I was willing to wait. But nobody needed to know exactly who I was waiting for. This wedding had been hyped up in the media for three solid months. Every important relative and business partner from Dennis’s side was sitting in those pews. I let my eyes wander over the breathtaking details of the room. A cascading waterfall of white roses framed the massive windows. Curtains of crystal beads hung from the vaulted ceiling. Even the elegant calligraphy on the seating cards was custom-designed by an artist he hired from Paris. That was just who Dennis was. When he wanted to do something, he executed it to absolute perfection. He pursued me with that same intensity. He planned this wedding with that same intensity. And unfortunately, he committed treason with that exact same intensity. He left absolutely zero room for negotiation and zero room for an explanation. In his twisted mind, showering a woman with luxury and deeply betraying her were two completely separate things. He firmly believed that my only option was to accept whatever crumbs he handed me. Inside the bridal suite, my best friend Harper was pacing the floor in a blind rage. She had flown all the way from Monaco just to be my maid of honor. “Is Dennis completely out of his mind? Leaving his own wedding to sign papers with another woman? Did he suffer a traumatic brain injury?” She dropped onto the velvet sofa, violently tugging at the tulle of her bridesmaid dress. “I thought he was just making empty threats yesterday. Who actually does something this vile on the day of their wedding?” Her voice shook with a fiery mix of anger and heartbreak on my behalf. “When you two were planning this, he drove across the entire state just to find the exact species of flower you wanted for your bouquet. When you tried on your dress, he started crying before you even stepped off the pedestal.” “I was so jealous of the way he looked at you that I literally picked a fight with my own boyfriend.” Her voice cracked slightly. “Who could have ever predicted he would turn around and do something like this?” I stayed silent, casually scrolling through my phone. Brianna had just posted a new update on her social media feed. The photo showed a messy hotel floor littered with a man’s discarded dress shirt and a pile of sheer lingerie. The caption read: Someone promised he would only stay for ten minutes, but now he refuses to leave my bed. She made sure to tag her location. She was nowhere near City Hall. One of our mutual acquaintances left a comment: Brianna, who are you trying to piss off today? Brianna replied publicly: Whoever is standing around in a wedding dress waiting for a man who is never coming. I stared at the screen, completely devoid of emotion, and took a screenshot. “Mona, stop waiting for him.” Harper snatched the phone out of my hand. “Look at this garbage. Look at the kind of people they are.” “You gave up your life in London after graduation just to move back here for him. Do you know how furious your parents were?” “Dennis was an absolute nobody back then. You bet your entire future and ten years of your life against your parents, and now you have lost everything.” “You stayed up for countless nights drafting business proposals for him. You secretly used your status as a shipping magnate’s daughter to secure his funding. He would be nothing without you pushing his company to the top.” “And he repays you by sleeping with the daughter of one of his investors.” “He is a psychopath. He played the perfect, loving fiancé right up until the night before the wedding, just so he could blindside you in a hotel room.” Harper was crying now, wiping angry tears from her face. “Mona, please. Stop waiting for him. It is time you finally live for yourself.” “Harper, thank you for flying out today. As soon as this ceremony is over, I am going to go home and tell my parents that they won.” I was willing to accept the consequences of my lost bet. Today was the day I paid the price for my own blindness. After calming my best friend down, and finally making peace with myself, I walked out of the suite and headed toward the balcony at the end of the hall for some fresh air. Just as I reached for the brass handle, I heard men talking on the other side of the door. It was the groomsmen, hiding outside to smoke. “Is Dennis seriously not coming back?” “He said Brianna is practically glued to him. He cannot get away. He told us to just keep stalling.” Carter exhaled a thick cloud of smoke. “How much longer do you think Mona is going to tolerate this?” “Look at her today. She put on the dress, she walked the press line, her groom abandoned her, and she has not shed a single tear.” “A wife with that much patience is a rare find,” Nate sighed. “Dennis really does not know how lucky he is.” “Dennis does not care about luck right now. That little succubus has him completely mesmerized. The man has lost his mind.” The group erupted into quiet chuckles. Then, someone initiated a video call. “Dennis, you finally picked up. Mona is still waiting in the bridal suite. It is getting really ugly over here. You need to come back.” A heavy, suggestive rustling sound came through the phone’s speaker. “Can you not see that I am busy?” Dennis’s voice was rough, thick with impatience and the unmistakable gravel of lust. “I am not coming back. Just buy everyone a round of drinks and keep them seated.” “Alright, whatever you say, boss,” Carter chuckled nervously. “At least your bride is easy to manipulate.” Before he could finish his sentence, I pushed the heavy balcony door wide open. The smirks on their faces vanished instantly. Carter aggressively hid his phone behind his back. “Mona.” I looked at the group of men. “The wedding starts in exactly three minutes.”

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Good news: I’m the real daughter of a billionaire. Bad news: I was a fake all along. At a family dinner, the “fake” daughter ran to my parents, soaking wet and looking pitiful. “Sister, why did you throw red wine on me?” I looked around, hugged the 2-liter bottle of soda next to me, and gave her a wide, innocent stare. “Are you talking about me? But I’ve been drinking Coke this whole time.” 1 I am Maya Sterling, the youngest daughter of the Sterling Group. My eldest sister, Olivia, is a gold-medal director who wins awards until her hands are sore, internationally renowned. My older brother, Liam, is the current second-in-command of the Sterling Group, with a limitless future. And me… I am a clueless, useless idiot. Maybe my parents’ genes took a wild detour when they made me. Aside from my looks, I didn’t inherit a single one of their outstanding talents. Not only that, but my reactions have always been a bit slower than everyone else’s. In my sister’s words, I was like a Samoyed that snuck into a pack of wolves, getting bullied but still wagging my tail happily, barking, “Big doggies!” Logically, someone at the very bottom of the food chain like me should have been the first cannon fodder sacrificed in any billionaire family feud. But my mom said: “So what if she’s a little slow? Two heads are better than one, and we have a whole family to protect her.” But my mom was wrong about one thing. Since I couldn’t follow the elite billionaire heir route, she dedicated herself to throwing money at me so I could be a carefree, spoiled rich kid. But when other rich kids were thrill-seeking and street racing, I barely managed to pass my driver’s test. When they were out partying and binge drinking, I was allergic to alcohol. When they were playing the field and keeping boy toys, the most I dared to do was hold hands. Over time, my mom had to comfort herself. “It’s better to be a little slow. It doesn’t attract unwanted attention. Keeps the drama away.” But even living like this, I still became a target. 2 Liam brought home a frail girl who looked about 70% like me. The moment she saw my mom, she tragically dropped to her knees, crying her eyes out. “Mom, I finally found you!” My dad instantly felt the chicken leg in his bowl lose its flavor. He put down his fork and stared wide-eyed. “What’s going on? You have a kid on the outside?!” My mom was horrified. “I didn’t! I swear I don’t!” The girl crawled on her knees and bowed deeply to my dad. “Dad, I missed you so much!” My mom dropped her panicked expression, put her hands on her hips, and pointed at my dad’s nose. “You still have the nerve to ask me! Is this one of your past mistakes?!” The girl on her knees choked back tears, while my parents were still immersed in their game of passing the buck. Neither of them paid her any attention. “Dad, Mom, she says she is the real Maya Sterling.” In the end, it was Liam who got straight to the point. “What does that mean? How is that possible?” “I’ve seen the DNA test report. It’s real.” “Then what about our youngest?” My mom pointed at me, who was still burying my head in my food. “The youngest is, of course, your biological daughter, my biological sister.” Liam’s words carried no hesitation. He stood coldly to the side, with no intention of helping the so-called “real” sister up. The girl suddenly raised her head and glared at me fiercely. “She’s a fake! If Mom and Dad don’t believe me, you can take her for a DNA test. You have no biological connection to her!” Her certainty made Liam frown. My parents didn’t respond to her accusation, and Liam continued asking. “So I brought her back to ask you, is this some illegitimate daughter you had on the outside?” My parents shook their heads violently like rattle drums. After a long pause, my mom slapped her forehead. “I know!” I rubbed my forehead and spat out the last chicken bone. Thanks to this farce grabbing their attention, I got to eat all the chicken legs today. Except for the half still in my dad’s bowl. My mom’s eyes shone brightly, incredibly excited. “It turns out I had twins back then!” 3 Everyone’s eyes turned to my mom. The girl was the first to object. “How is that possible? There was clearly only me! I am your only daughter!” “Mom, if you take her for a DNA test, you’ll know…” Her words were cut off by my mom. My mom took her hand, pulled her to sit on the sofa, and looked at her with maternal love. “Sweetheart, a piece of flesh fell from my own body, wouldn’t I know how much it weighed?” “I always wondered why my belly was so big back then. It must have been twins.” “Don’t you agree, honey?” My dad showed a look of sudden realization and nodded repeatedly. “I thought it was because you ate too many supplements during the pregnancy. So it was twins.” “You almost had a difficult labor back then. It must have been during the panic that the hospital lost one of the babies.” Surprisingly, everyone accepted this absurd explanation. Even Liam’s expression softened. The girl looked pale, trying to argue further. Her gaze fell on me, as if expecting me to react with violent rejection. But all I could think was: “No wonder my reactions are so slow.” This girl’s mouth fired off words like it was on 2x speed. All the excellent genes must have gone to her! But I wasn’t jealous. I was always going to be last place anyway. What did it matter if I had one more sibling? I frowned. I had eaten a bit too much and was feeling stuffed, which slowed my thinking even more. “So, between the two of us, who is the older sister?” Under the girl’s expectant gaze, I threw out a completely useless question. “You be the older sister, Maya. Take care of your new younger sister.” My mom smiled brightly, observing the girl’s reaction. She bit her lip, seemingly unwilling, but eventually, slowly nodded. “Mom, my life before this was so hard…” She rolled up her sleeves, perhaps intending to show the scars on her arms. My mom stopped her and thoughtfully draped a blanket over her thin clothes. “Sweetheart, let’s not talk about the past.” “Let’s give you a new name.” “You are the child we lost to the outside world, so we’ll call you… Ava.” Ava swallowed her grievances. “Okay, Mom.” My mom took Ava’s hand and warmly gave her a tour of the house. Overnight, everyone in the Sterling Group, except for Olivia who was away filming, learned of Ava’s existence. And Ava’s challenge to me officially began at that moment. 4 As expected, Ava crushed me in every aspect. She effortlessly blended into the social circles I couldn’t fit into. She played instruments I couldn’t master with ease. Indeed, she looked more like a child of the Sterling family than I did. Piled high with money and the ultimate luxury services, Ava never again showed the timidity of our first meeting. She tried multiple times to steer our parents into taking me for a DNA test. But my mom said: “There’s no need. Our family doesn’t lack the money to raise one more person.” At the autumn gala, Ava fluttered through the crowd like a butterfly. Today, her identity as the “Fourth Miss of the Sterling Family” would be officially introduced to high society by our parents. For this day, she had meticulously prepared a haute couture corset gown, the tailored fabric accentuating her proud curves. Ava followed our parents closely, elegantly and confidently toasting and making small talk with everyone. I sat in a corner, discreetly pulling a 2-liter bottle of Coke from under the heavy tablecloth and filling my wine glass. Elegant. Truly too elegant. I swirled the glass and let out a satisfied burp. The only flaw was that room-temperature Coke wasn’t stimulating enough, and the carbonation dissipated too quickly. I held my wine glass and strolled leisurely out into the courtyard. I had never been good at handling these big scenes since I was a kid, so I was especially grateful for Ava’s existence. While daydreaming, I heard hurried footsteps approaching and instinctively ducked behind some bushes. The heavy, sticky sound of kissing and the rustling of clothes made me blush. Holy crap, who is making out in the garden?! “Tyler… someone might see us…” Ava’s soft moans mixed with a man’s heavy breathing. “Baby, you look so beautiful today.” Tyler was my arranged fiancé. Rather than being surprised that they had hooked up, my main thought made me cover my mouth in a silent scream: Did they not know our family’s exterior was covered in full-color, thermal-imaging infrared security cameras?! Thinking of the security guards staring at each other in front of the HD monitors in the control room… Oh my god, I felt embarrassed for them! 5 It took forever for those two to leave, and my legs were numb from squatting. My engagement to Tyler was a verbal agreement made by our elders. A business marriage, very normal. But the two of us never really clicked. Tyler thought I was boring and plain, and I thought Tyler was a player. The engagement kind of just faded away. But it looked like Ava was very happy to be the rebound. Tyler was the sole heir to the Vance family. Old Mr. Vance’s marriage plan for him was: “Best to have two kids in the first year, three in two years, the more the better.” Looking at Ava’s frail frame, I had deep doubts. Oh well, as long as she’s happy. Before I could even bend down, lift the tablecloth, and refill my drink, a swaying white figure crashed into me. “Ah! Sister, why did you throw red wine on me?” Ava’s eyes were filled with tears, her face pale, as she questioned me, trembling. A large, dark wine-red stain bloomed across her layered skirt. At first glance, it looked like she had just run from a murder scene. Before I had time to react, Tyler was there too. “Maya, how could you bully your sister? Are you jealous that she’s better than you?” “Sister definitely didn’t do it on purpose, Tyler, don’t say that…” The drama at the gala naturally drew everyone’s attention. Soon, everyone noticed the corner where I was standing. Under the curious, drama-hungry gazes of the bystanders, I slowly hugged the 2-liter bottle of soda next to me, my eyes clear and innocent. “Are you talking about me? But I’ve been drinking Coke this whole time.” Everyone showed a look of utter speechlessness. Tyler kept pushing it. “What kind of person drinks Coke at a gala? You just bullied Ava and won’t admit it. Do you know how hard she worked for today…” I didn’t know. I really didn’t know how hard she worked. “I’m allergic to alcohol. I never drink.” “Then you must have snatched Ava’s glass!” Then I would have needed to be holding two glasses. I didn’t really want to keep arguing with this troll. In the end, Ava interrupted the argument. “It was me who didn’t look where I was going and bumped into my sister. It’s my fault. I apologize to you, Sister.” She bowed deeply to me, tears welling in her eyes, while the onlookers whispered among themselves. Honestly, nobody really cared whose wine it was anyway. Ava’s goal was singular: to create the illusion that I was targeting her, thereby establishing her persona as respectful and humble. The rest she left to the rumors and wild guesses. With a teary-eyed Ava in front of me and an aggressive Tyler behind me, I felt a bit distressed. This was broken by an elegant, tall figure. Olivia’s long, slender fingers lifted Ava’s chin, a half-smile on her face. “You’re very talented. Want to be the female lead in my new movie?” 6 Ava accepted, flattered and overwhelmed. A spot in Olivia’s movies was hard to come by, let alone the lead role. After thinking about it for a long time, I decided to hint to Olivia to be careful of Ava. Stuttering in front of Olivia for a while, I only managed to squeeze out one sentence. “She’s not a good person.” Olivia blew a smoke ring at me, watching with a smile as I pinched my nose and coughed. “If you’re worried, come join the crew with me. Big sister will take you to watch a good show.” Ava’s sudden casting caused a heated debate among the crew. “Director Sterling really does favor talented people.” “Look, Ava gets the lead role right away, while Maya can only watch.” “I’ve heard for a long time that Maya is a useless heiress. Maybe the rumors are true, and she’s not really a Sterling.” I sat under a sunshade drinking juice, watching Ava sweating under the blazing sun. I scoffed at the whispers nearby. I had heard these things so much lately that my ears were growing calluses. Ava’s first scene involved wirework over water. Although she had undergone systematic training before shooting, she still looked a bit hesitant. Olivia put her arm around her shoulder and pointed at the award-winning actor, Ethan Cole, not far away. “Ava, your starting point is acting opposite an A-lister. You’re already better than so many people.” “Don’t put pressure on yourself. It doesn’t matter if you mess up. You definitely won’t be worse than Maya.” Since Ava arrived, “little sister” was no longer my exclusive title. Such intimate instructions obviously worked perfectly on Ava. “Sister, I will definitely do a good job!” She nodded confidently. Then came eighteen consecutive NG takes. Olivia strove for perfection and never went easy on anyone. Hoisted high up, dropped heavily down. I thought Ava would call it quits, but she actually pushed through. It wasn’t until evening that I understood the meaning behind Ava’s actions. A comparison photo of us on set was trending online. #AvaNaturalBornActress #AvaDedication #AvaMayaComparison #WhatIsItLikeToHaveAMeanOlderSister In the photos, Ava was respectfully performing difficult stunts mid-air, while I was sitting with my legs crossed in the shade playing cards on my phone. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to work. It was that I really wasn’t helpful. Despite the internet condemning me for making things difficult for Ava, my mom was the first one to get angry at home. “How many times have I told you not to cross your legs! You never listen!” Okay, my bad. 7 After tagging along with Olivia’s crew for a few days, I didn’t want to go anymore. Those days, I was secretly photographed 360 degrees by paparazzi, constantly trending alongside Ava and being gossiped about. It was so annoying. However, Ava was enjoying it. Her popularity was soaring, even driving up the Sterling Group’s stock. My dad generously transferred 5% of his shares to Ava as a wrap gift. The circles were saying that this was the favored true heiress, and questioning what kind of life Maya lived before—no car, no house, no power. No comparison, no damage. True, I thought they had a point. But I had a mouth. I could ask my parents for money. Having money was good enough. Ava clearly wasn’t satisfied. Not only did she have a massive fan base, but she had also gained the family’s approval. My mom put two duck legs in her bowl. I admit, I was sour. Ava smiled gently: “Mom, actors need to maintain their figures. I can’t eat greasy food. Let my sister have it.” “It’s okay, you eat it. Your sister had too much meat before, she needs to eat lighter to rest her stomach.” Ava’s smile twisted slightly, but she quickly adjusted. “Dad, I want to join the family company to learn. Can I?” “Of course. It’s good to be proactive. Liam, arrange it.” My usually silent second brother nodded. “Is Maya coming too?” I shook my head violently. Making me work a 9-to-5 desk job was akin to prison. I wasn’t going. My dad deadpanned a final blow. “Don’t force her. Isn’t lying around at home nice? It’s not like we can’t afford the electricity bill.” See? This is how my uselessness was cultivated. A week after Ava went to the company to “learn,” an anonymous email arrived in the inboxes of the Sterling Group employees. It was the DNA test result between me and my dad. The result showed: “The DNA match between the samples is low. No biological relationship.”

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