Category: English

At the party, my asthma flared up. I fumbled for my emergency inhaler. But the bottle was empty. My boyfriend, Liam, casually explained, “Chloe said her throat was dry, so I gave her your inhaler. Just take some throat lozenges; they’ll help too.” My breathing was already getting harder, each breath a struggle. “If her throat’s dry, why can’t she just drink water? You guys are trying to kill me!” He frowned, clearly annoyed. “Can you stop being so dramatic? You always act so delicate, like you’re made of glass.” “Chloe’s right, you’re just being extra.” I stopped arguing, sending a frantic message to my mom: “My asthma is flaring up, but Liam gave my inhaler to Chloe.” Liam saw the message and just shrugged it off. “Here you go again with this? Always running to your mom, are you in elementary school?” He snatched my phone, holding it high above his head, looking down at me with contempt. I tried to grab it back. The moment I stood up, my vision blurred, and I stumbled back onto the couch. “My asthma’s really bad, please help me,” I gasped, desperate. Just then, Chloe strolled over, still flaunting my inhaler in her hand. “Oh my, Princess Scarlett, are you *really* feeling bad? Or are you just trying to get attention?” “Ugh, I told you guys, women shouldn’t be at our guy’s nights. They’re always so whiny and just stir up drama, trying to compete with each other.” I fought for air, my eyes fixed on Chloe. She was Liam’s childhood best friend. She’d always been super chummy with guys, treating them like her brothers. Liam had mentioned Chloe more than once to me. He always said she was a real ‘one of the guys.’ At first, I actually had a good impression of the easygoing ‘female buddy’ Liam described. After our relationship became stable, Liam introduced me to his friend group. Chloe always went out of her way to act like a huge supporter of women. “Oh my god, Liam, you have such good taste, where did you find this princess?” “Swoon! Girls stick together, let’s ditch these smelly guys.” But deep down, I always sensed a hint of malice in Chloe’s eyes when she looked at me. Her methods were subtle, almost brilliant. She’d preach ‘girl power’ but then deliberately ignore me in her actions. For example, she’d constantly bring up their childhood memories at parties. I’d have nothing to contribute, so I’d just sit there silently. Then, she’d suddenly turn to me, all casual and friendly. “What’s wrong, Princess? You’re not mad because I’m talking to Liam, are you?” I’d mentioned to Liam that it made me uncomfortable. But he’d always just say I was being petty. He claimed Chloe was just trying to liven things up and that I was too sensitive. Now, though, Chloe’s malice was completely undisguised. “Princesses are just princesses, aren’t they? Are you upset we’re not all fawning over you, so you’re faking being sick?” The guys around us snickered, a wave of mockery washing over me. “I’m really not feeling well, give me the inhaler!” I raised my voice, a desperate plea. My sudden outburst made the room go silent for a second. Then, the mockery erupted even louder. Chloe draped her arm over Liam’s shoulder. She watched me gasp for breath, doubling over with laughter. “Oh my, she’s really good at faking it, Liam! Are you actually feeling sorry for her?” The others joined in, egging Liam on. “Yeah, Liam, you’re not gonna be whipped after you get married, are you?” “Don’t disgrace us, man! The man’s the head of the house, if a woman disobeys, you gotta teach her a lesson!” Liam couldn’t handle that kind of challenge. He stiffened his neck, refusing to look at me. “Who’s feeling sorry for her? She needs to be taught a lesson, always looking for trouble.” I couldn’t breathe. I desperately tugged at Liam’s sleeve, gurgling sounds escaping my throat. “Help… me…” Seeing my state, Liam hesitated for a moment. But Chloe spoke again, her voice dismissive. “Alright, alright, Scarlett, we’re all just regular guys here, we don’t fall for the damsel-in-distress act.” Knowing it was useless to reason with them, I tried to leave the private room. But as soon as I pushed myself up, Chloe shoved me back down. “The party’s not over, why are you leaving? You’re disrespecting me!” Her grip was surprisingly strong. I wasn’t careful, and the back of my head slammed against the wall. *Thump!* My head spun even more. Before I could react. Chloe screamed first.

She covered her mouth, her voice overly dramatic. “Oh my god, you’re so manipulative!” “I barely touched you, and you actually hit your head against the wall just to frame me!” Hearing that, Liam’s gaze turned even more impatient. “Scarlett, that’s too far.” I bit my lip, trying to clear my head. “I have severe asthma. If you don’t want a death on your hands, stop this now.” My throat burned, every inhale felt like drawing in broken glass. Chloe, however, dangled the inhaler in front of my face, showing it off, then dramatically took a huge puff. “Can’t give it to you, my throat’s dry.” “And I gotta say, you get what you pay for, this thing feels great.” I struggled to lift my hand, trying to snatch it. She laughed, easily raising her hand to dodge me. “Nope, not giving it to you.” Furious, my vision blurred again. Liam stood there, arms crossed, watching. “Look at you, begging like that. Chloe’s just using it for a bit, don’t be so petty.” “Chloe even saw your medical report; you don’t have asthma. You just get a little short of breath sometimes.” I forced myself to stay calm. “Liam, you’ve seen me have an attack before, why would I lie to you?” Before Liam could answer, Chloe interjected. “To get attention, obviously. In this day and age, there are always those attention-seekers faking illnesses.” “Heh heh, Scarlett, are you like those online princesses who also claim to have depression?” At her words, Liam’s friends erupted into even louder laughter. Some of them whistled. “Liam, your girlfriend is so uptight, she’s not half as cool as Chloe.” “Yeah, you’re gonna have your hands full when you get married.” I was gasping for air, using my last bit of strength to reach for the inhaler in Chloe’s hand. But just as my fingertips brushed it, she quickly pulled her hand back. I lost my balance and tumbled onto the carpet. “Oh my, she’s really selling the act!” Chloe exclaimed dramatically. Then she crouched down, whispering in a voice only I could hear. “Hehe, hurry up and die. You dying will make things perfect for me and Liam.” She stood up, deliberately raising her voice. “Scarlett, stop messing around, get up! Everyone’s waiting for you and Liam to take a toast together.” Liam felt a flicker of concern. He stepped forward and helped me up. “What’s wrong with you? Are you really not feeling well?” “Help… me…” I struggled to get the words out. My hand tightened around Liam’s wrist, only broken gasps escaping my throat. “In… inhaler…” Liam’s brows furrowed, and a hint of panic and struggle finally appeared in his eyes. He looked at Chloe. “Chloe, maybe just give it to her.” Chloe’s face instantly dropped. She stubbornly hid the inhaler behind her back, stamping her foot in frustration. “Liam, are you blind? She’s totally faking it! Have you forgotten how she used to throw her little tantrums?” Then, she suddenly turned to the others and yelled. “See? These drama queens always put on an act, and Liam totally falls for it!” The guys around them immediately chimed in. “Liam, Chloe and us grew up together, would she really try to hurt you?” “These princesses, they just love to cause trouble, you can’t spoil her.” Liam’s expression changed. His hand, which was holding me, loosened a little. I could feel him wavering. On one side was my agonizing pain, on the other, Chloe and his friends’ manipulation. “But… her face looks really pale…”

Liam looked worried, his gaze falling on my bloodless lips. Chloe suddenly slapped her own forehead with an “oops!” “Oh! I saw her go to the restroom earlier with a pad, she’s probably just having bad period cramps.” She said this, feigning concern for me. “Scarlett, if you’re just having cramps, why lie and say you’re having an asthma attack? You’re just unnecessarily worrying Liam!” Hearing her, Liam visibly relaxed. His eyes, when he looked at me, were filled with reproach. “You can’t pull stunts like that again, you almost scared me to death.” I didn’t have much strength left. Thankfully, I had taken preventive medicine before leaving the house. Otherwise, with all their delaying, I would have been dead by now. Chloe, hiding behind Liam, smirked at me provocatively. Then she pulled a small bottle from her bag. “Here, I have throat lozenges. Scarlett, isn’t your throat bothering you? Pop one in!” Without waiting for my consent, she shoved a throat lozenge into my mouth. The strong mint flavor rushed into my nasal passages, intensifying the burning sensation in my throat. I tried to spit it out. But she clamped her hand tightly around my jaw. “Swallow it! What’s wrong with you? You really are just faking this to get sympathy.” She only let go when I was choking and gagging, then turned to Liam. “See? She won’t even take it, what else could it be but an act?” Liam looked at me, then at the throat lozenge I had just spit out onto the floor. The flicker of panic in his eyes vanished, replaced entirely by irritation. He just thought I was overreacting, being dramatic for no reason. He sighed heavily, roughly pushing me onto the sofa. My back hit the armrest with a painful jolt, making me gasp. “Alright, let’s just drop it. Don’t ever do this again.” “No, I…” I tried to explain, but only guttural, gasping sounds came from my throat. Chloe patted Liam’s shoulder. “Come on, forget her, let’s go drink. If no one pays attention to her, she’ll be fine in a bit.” Liam nodded. As he walked away, he cast one last glance at me. His eyes held only impatience and annoyance, no worry at all. He was pulled away by Chloe towards the crowd, not forgetting to toss a final instruction. “Behave, don’t embarrass me anymore.” The surrounding group dispersed, joining Liam and Chloe to drink. I curled up in the corner, watching Liam and Chloe being egged on to take a toast together. “Come on, cheers, cheers!” “Don’t be a buzzkill, drink up!” “It’s just a game, your girlfriend won’t be that petty, right?” Through my blurred vision, I saw Liam glance at me from a distance, then wrap an arm around Chloe and kiss her… I felt the air being slowly drained from my lungs. I truly couldn’t breathe anymore. My phone lay on the floor where Liam had tossed it. But I didn’t even have the strength to crawl towards it. In despair, I suddenly remembered that last month I had put an asthma pill in my bag. I mustered my last ounce of strength, reaching out to feel around me. My heart leaped when my fingertips brushed against the chain of my bag. I desperately clawed at the chain, pulling it out, the leather rustling against the sofa. The bag was still open. I fumbled inside. A single pill rolled out, falling onto the carpet. That’s it! This was just an emergency slow-release pill. It wouldn’t work as fast as the inhaler, but it could buy me a little more time. I was practically in tears. But just as I stretched out my hand, and my fingertips were about to touch the pill—a high heel stomped down.

Right in front of my face, the heel repeatedly ground the pill into the carpet. It was Chloe. She smirked, looking down at me, her foot still grinding. “Oops, almost let you take your medicine.” My blood rushed to my head. “Get lost! I’ll kill you! My mom won’t let you get away with this!” The suffocating sensation overwhelmed me. After screaming that, I collapsed back onto the sofa, like a dying animal trapped in a cage. “Hehe, watching you rage so helplessly makes me so happy.” Chloe crouched down, poking my face with her long fingernails. “You deserve this, trying to steal what’s mine. Liam is *mine*. Even if I don’t want him, he’s certainly not for you.” With that, she forcefully grabbed my hair. “Alright, you can die now.” My scalp screamed in pain from the tugging. I tried to struggle. But I didn’t even have the strength to lift my hand. “I’m… Scarlett Vance—” Through my blurred vision, Chloe’s face was a distorted, grotesque mask. She cut me off. “Liam’s over there drinking.” She leaned closer to my ear, her voice sickly sweet. “He couldn’t care less about you. Do you think he’d be sad if you died right now?” I tried to bite her hand, but she easily dodged me. She stood up, patted my cheek, then yelled to Liam in the distance. “Liam, come look! Scarlett seems really mad!” Liam was called over by her. He looked at me, limp on the sofa, his brows furrowing even deeper. “What are you throwing a fit about now? It’s just period cramps, don’t act like you’re dying. Every woman gets cramps.” “I… I really have…” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Have asthma…” Liam’s gaze swept over my pale face, then to Chloe. Chloe shrugged helplessly, indicating she couldn’t do anything. Liam’s gaze settled on me, filled with utter disappointment. “Scarlett, I’m so sick of this. If you keep acting like this, we’re over.” With that, he turned sharply and walked away. Chloe scurried behind him, not forgetting to turn back and flash me a ‘V’ sign. I felt like my lungs were a leaky bellows, every breath a tearing pain. The snowflakes in my vision grew denser. Chloe’s face in the distance shimmered in the halo of light, appearing and disappearing, like a demon from hell. My eyelids felt incredibly heavy. Over there, a group of people were cheering around Chloe. In my peripheral vision, Liam and his good friends raised their glasses. Chloe pretended to be drunk and leaned into Liam’s arms; he didn’t push her away, instead, he tightened his arm around her waist. “Liam…” I called out, using every last bit of my strength. My voice was a mere whisper, barely audible. He inexplicably glanced back. Chloe immediately tiptoed and whispered something in his ear. He frowned, impatiently shaking his head. In that moment, the last shred of warmth in my heart turned to ice. I slowly closed my eyes. I regretted it so much. Why did I ever get involved with Liam? Liam was just a poor student from an ordinary family. My mother, on the other hand, was a billionaire entrepreneur. I was afraid Liam would feel insecure, so I never told him any of this. He always thought I was just slightly better off than him. Chloe walked back over. She crouched in front of me. “I heard you grew up in a single-parent household. If you die, your mom will cry her eyes out, won’t she?” “But it’s fine, Liam can go handle your funeral as the future son-in-law. Maybe your mom will be so soft-hearted, she’ll give all her family fortune to Liam…” Chloe was certainly dreaming big. But before she could finish, the private room door was suddenly thrown open. “Scarlett!” It was my mom’s voice. Before I lost consciousness, I saw Mom rushing towards me like a madwoman. “Scarlett!” The world before my eyes plunged into darkness.

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Every single day, I’d grab my binoculars and sneak a peek at my neighbor across the street. But lately, nightmares had been haunting me every night. So, I bought a security camera, desperate to find out what was causing them. What I found was totally unexpected: the scorching heat in the middle of the night, the fresh red marks on my neck in the morning, and my swollen lips in the mirror – they all came from *him*! He looked like he’d just stepped out of the shower, towel-drying his damp hair. Through the window, I could make out his sharp, chiseled profile. His honey-toned skin practically glowed in the sunlight streaming through the pane, and the few water droplets still clinging to him stood out like tiny diamonds. My breath hitched, watching him through the binoculars. A blush crept up my ears. I had the binoculars propped on the windowsill, my right eye glued to the eyepiece. To avoid getting caught, I’d even pulled the curtains almost all the way closed. That should keep him from spotting me. After all, who’d ever think that in the shadows, a pair of eyes would be so intensely fixed on him? My gaze greedily swept up and down his body, drinking in his raw, masculine form. Seeing his oblivious expression, the thrill of secretly watching him peaked. My blood felt like it was boiling from the sheer rush, a dizzying pleasure washing over me. *Gulp*. I swallowed hard, my mind replaying the scene I’d just witnessed. After drying his hair, he picked up a bottle of water nearby. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, and the water droplets that had lingered there began to slide. They traced a path down his sculpted collarbone, continued lower, leaving a shimmering wet trail across his perfectly defined abs. My eyes were locked on that single droplet, unmoving. Inside, I was silently cheering, so glad I’d splurged big time on these binoculars just for spying on him. The guy who sold it to me wasn’t kidding! I could see every single move he made across the way. Even… even the tiny water droplets rolling down his skin were crystal clear. After that droplet slid past his abs, it vanished, the view below completely hidden by the towel wrapped around his waist. The disappearing droplet, the still-wet trail – it somehow added a touch of something raw and tempting to his otherwise cool expression. I was a little bummed I couldn’t see more, but honestly, just getting to see Cole’s body like that made these binoculars worth every penny! Thinking this, I lowered the binoculars, rubbed my chin, and mumbled, “Honestly, I never would’ve thought Cole, a doctor, would have a body like that.” Yep, this definitely wasn’t my first time spying on Cole. But it was the first time I’d caught him fresh out of the shower. Before, he was always either glued to his laptop working or lifting weights. It was like his whole world revolved around work and working out. At first, I’d been so nervous watching him. But seeing his routine like that, my daily spying sessions just became a routine, like a daily check-in. Over time, I started feeling like I was Cole’s boss, and spying on him with binoculars was more like I was overseeing him. Just looking at Cole’s chiseled face, his totally bad-boy charm, who would’ve guessed his private life would be so… boring? But after seeing Cole’s body, I felt like all my hard work hadn’t been for nothing! I was practically humming with glee, just about to go back for another admiring look. The moment my eye touched the binoculars, I recoiled like a startled rabbit, then darted away from the window. *Huff, huff.* Pressed against the wall, my heart hammered like a drum. “Huff, huff. That scared me senseless!” “How could he… how could he have looked right at me?” I frowned, replaying the moment in my mind. When I’d pressed my eye to the binoculars, I hadn’t just seen Cole’s tempting body, but his gaze, too – a half-smile in his eyes. That look was aimed directly at me. I was certain I hadn’t imagined it. But then… “If he noticed, why didn’t he report me?” “Maybe… maybe I really did see wrong.” I murmured to myself, and the more I thought about it, the more convinced I became. If he’d caught me spying, I would’ve been reported by Cole and probably locked up by now. I wouldn’t be sitting here, perfectly safe. Perhaps that reason actually convinced me. I cautiously edged along the wall, peeking towards the window. “Where is he?” It had only been a few minutes, but when I looked again, the figure by the window was gone. Even without the binoculars, I could tell if someone that big was there or not. *Knock! Knock! Knock!* Just as I was wondering where he’d gone, the front door knocked. I froze, staring disbelievingly at the sound.

The sudden knocking, combined with Cole disappearing from his window. These two things happening back-to-back made me connect them instantly. I bit my lip, forcing down the surge of unease, and cautiously started walking toward the front door. I’d only taken a few steps when something clicked. I turned back, pulling the curtains completely shut to hide the binoculars near the window. Given my current state, that move probably screamed “guilty as charged.” *Knock! Knock! Knock!* The moment I’d hidden the binoculars, the knocking started again, louder this time. “No, it can’t be Cole. Our houses are a fair distance apart. Even if he saw me, he couldn’t have gotten here so fast.” After a few minutes, my heart, which had been pounding like a drum, slowly returned to normal. My sluggish thoughts started to make sense. Reason finally kicked in, calming my frantic mind. I realized that the person at my door wasn’t Cole. I hurried forward and opened the door. Standing there was a delivery guy in a black T-shirt, looking impatient. His expression softened a bit when he saw me. But after he scanned me up and down, his face turned a little weird. “You were home? Why didn’t anyone answer when I knocked?” “Oh, I’m so sorry! I was just tidying up.” I offered an apologetic smile, taking the package from his hand. Feeling his eyes on me, I silently pulled my sleep shirt up higher, covering the red mark on my neck. I thanked him, closed the door, and went back to my room with the package. I tore open the box; inside was a security camera system. I’d painstakingly picked this one out on Amazon: dual lenses, dual screens, and super long battery life. Setting up the monitor was simple. I had it assembled in no time. But where to put it? That was the tricky part. “Where can I place it to actually capture whoever’s appearing in my room at night?” *Is it really a person?* I thought of the nightmares I’d fallen into every night, the red marks on my neck when I woke up, and what I saw in the mirror. And in those nightmares, the broad hands that had run over my entire body, and the long, thin fingers that had stirred my mouth and tongue. My memories churned, and for a moment, I couldn’t tell if it was just a nightmare, or if it was real. At first, I truly believed it was just a nightmare. After all, the next morning, I hadn’t found anything out of the ordinary.

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My awful old man was finally dead. As the family’s only son and heir, I was stoked to head home and claim what was mine. But then, the “little daddy” I’d always tormented suddenly locked me up, and even… *tormented* me back. My head felt hazy, the world around me flickering in and out of focus. I lay on the bed, trying to move my limbs, only to find my entire body immobile. A warm, soft hand grazed my forehead, but it wasn’t long before I drifted back to sleep. Before losing consciousness, I thought I heard someone call out, “Madam.” Madam? The first mistress of the mansion, my mother, had passed away sixteen years ago. The only one left who could be called that now was the second person my father brought home six years ago. My father’s partner – Lysander. A tickling sensation spread across the soles of my feet. My instinct was to curl my legs, but then I realized I was still completely unable to move. I struggled to open my eyes, only to see Lysander, a faint smile on his pale face, gazing at me under the dim yellow light. My inner calves were incredibly sensitive. I followed his hand downwards and found it was a man’s doing. “Lysander! What in hell are you doing?!” Lysander, who usually dressed in those soft, almost feminine robes, had completely changed. He was wearing a dark, tailored shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing the same smooth, luminous skin. Facing my fury, Lysander remained utterly unconcerned. The smile on his face was warm yet distant, and the long, white feather he held in his hand showed no sign of stopping its teasing movement. I saw that my perfectly tailored suit had been replaced by a deep blue silk robe. With every stroke of Lysander’s hand, the robe’s long hem had slid all the way up my thighs. My wrists and ankles were cuffed, ropes connecting them, forcing my body open on the bed in a spread-eagle position, leaving me entirely at Lysander’s mercy. “What am I doing, Young Master? Is it really that unclear?” Lysander’s voice was as soft as ever, but his actions were anything but gentle. I could feel my most vulnerable parts being shamelessly kneaded by Lysander, giving me almost no time to resist. The surging desire swept away all my pride and dignity. Lysander swung himself onto the bed, straddling my waist, his legs spread. Through the open slit of his shirt, I could see the defined muscles beneath his dark trousers. “You insolent bastard!” My face flushed crimson with rage, humiliated to the point of nearly blacking out. Yet Lysander remained calm, watching me, until he mockingly stripped off my trousers. Lysander looked at my already pathetic state and finally let out a laugh. “My father and I, we were just two apex predators circling each other. We might snarl, but we never truly went for the kill—a kind of twisted respect among our own kind. I’ve had my eyes on you, Young Master, for a long, long time. Tonight… I intend to enjoy myself to the fullest.” As his words faded, I watched, horrified, as he removed my last line of defense. The iron cuffs on my ankles spread my legs wide, allowing Lysander to easily prepare me, and then, he pushed deep inside. My face went pale with pain. I gritted my teeth and snarled, “I’ll get you, just you wait!” Lysander lifted one of my legs, not pausing for a second at my threat. His laughter mingled with his ragged breaths, filling my ears. “I’m afraid,” Lysander whispered, “you won’t get the chance.”

The chandelier in my vision slowly blurred. I didn’t know when I passed out, but in my dreams, I remembered the first time I met Lysander. As the family’s sole heir, even though my relationship with my father was terrible, we always maintained a basic, polite facade. Yet, on the very night of my mother’s memorial, when that bastard father brazenly—even grandly—brought Lysander home, I lost my temper like never before. “Has my lust blinded me, or something? On a day like this, how dare he bring his paramour home?!” I was consumed by rage, smashing almost everything in sight. I wanted to lay my hands on my father, but the household staff weren’t just for show; they held me back. It ended with me smashing a vase over Lysander’s head, and me being restrained, taking two hard slaps from my father. After that, I never gave Lysander a moment’s peace. It was fine when I was studying abroad and didn’t see him, but whenever we met, I’d inevitably fly into a rage. After several such incidents, my unbearable father finally banished me abroad. But to his surprise, I went into overdrive, finishing my credits early and returning home two years ago. I brazenly insisted on living under the same roof as my father. From then on, I abandoned my old fits of rage and adopted slyer, more insidious tactics. I leveraged the fact that this “little daddy” wouldn’t dare provoke me while my father was weakening. So I became even more reckless. I’d splash him with cold or hot water, make him kneel before my mother’s portrait as ‘family discipline’ when my father wasn’t home, or deliberately cut back his food. I even dragged Lysander to parties, pointing out pretty young women. I remember pretending to be drunk, lifting Lysander’s chin, and challenging him, “How long will this face of mine keep the old man happy? Or rather… what if tonight, I managed to charm some heiress, marry her, and have kids? Where would that leave my standing in this house then?” I watched Lysander slowly raise his eyes. His gaze was filled with a knowing, mocking smile. It mirrored the look from last night. Then, Lysander, dressed in a proper, intellectual-looking shirt, was shamelessly violating me, who was stripped bare and bound. I could hear voices from the other side of the wall, but my mouth was stuffed with fabric, sealed tight with the leather belt he’d taken from my trousers last night.

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When I performed the pre-marital health screening for my best friend, Chloe, she tested positive for HIV. Her eyes were red-rimmed as she begged me not to tell her boyfriend, Derek: “Stella, please don’t tell him. I love him so much. He’s the one for me. If he knows, he’ll never marry me.” Bound by my professional duty, I strongly advised her to inform him herself. She swore up and down that she would. In the medical recommendation section of the report, I wrote: [Marriage deferred / Not advisable for procreation]. A month later, Derek, leading eighteen other men, stormed into my office, furious. They hacked at me twenty-eight times. Every single blow was meant to kill. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Chloe standing by the door, a look of pure schadenfreude on her face. “Serves you right!” she sneered. Even after I died, their rage wasn’t sated. They didn’t even leave a complete body. They stuffed my dismembered remains into black garbage bags and dumped them in the city’s grimiest corners. Reborn, I found myself back at the moment Chloe and Derek came for their pre-marital health screening. Again, I wrote “Marriage deferred / Not advisable for procreation.” I closed my eyes, hiding the hatred boiling within, and swore to make every single one of them pay in blood. 0

“Stella, Derek and I are getting our marriage license today, so we’re here for our pre-marital check-up.” Sitting at my desk, I spun my pen, my mind a blank. I vividly remembered the sheer terror as Derek’s knife slashed towards my neck, the agonizing, soul-ripping pain when it tore through my chest. I was just pain. I couldn’t do anything else. The other eighteen men held me down, each taking a turn with their knives, butchering me like a slaughterhouse animal. Dark red blood splattered the walls, the floor a gruesome mosaic of minced flesh and limbs. A split second before my heart stopped, Derek hacked off my head and tossed it out the window. It bounced on the ground, and then, I felt nothing more. After my death, they still weren’t satisfied. They dismembered me further, stuffed me into black garbage bags, and tossed me into various sewers. I remembered their cruel, brutal faces with chilling clarity. “Stella! Stella Smith!” A familiar female voice dragged me out of the bloody, painful haze. I looked up to meet her worried eyes, catching a glimpse of Derek engrossed in his phone. The scene of them hacking me to pieces flashed before my eyes again. My nails dug into my palm, blood dripping onto the desk. The pain was less than a thousandth of what it felt like to be butchered alive. Seeing my ten fingers, perfectly intact. I was certain. I was reborn. “Stella, are you sick? You look so pale.” Chloe’s face was etched with concern as she reached out to touch my forehead. My body instinctively flinched away. *Screech!* My chair scraped across the floor, tipping backward. I crashed to the ground. “Stella, what’s wrong with you?” I swallowed the hatred churning in my gut, the words “Serves you right!” echoing in my mind. I couldn’t understand. I’d just written a medical report. How did *that* warrant such a fate? Ignoring her concern, I turned to ask my boss for leave. Seeing my pale face and cold sweat, clearly not faking it, my boss urged me to go to the hospital immediately. Just as I stepped out of the office, Chloe, who had been waiting by the door, grabbed my arm. Her fingertips dug into my flesh. I quickly yanked my arm away, keeping my head down, refusing to look at her. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from grabbing anything nearby and just ending her right there. Chloe stepped forward, trying to link arms with me again. “Stella, are you not feeling well?” I dodged her, catching a fleeting glimpse of a dark glint in her eyes. “Yeah, I need to go to the hospital first.” She reached for my hand again. I tried to shake her off. Having just reborn and now seeing those two demonic faces that terrified me. The sheer terror made me utterly powerless; I couldn’t get free. Chloe dragged me aside, looked around to ensure no one was watching, and then lowered her voice, scolding me. “Stella, what’s going on? I specifically arranged with Derek to come to *your* clinic for our check-up today because I knew you were working. How could you just leave?” My eyes widened in disbelief. We’d known each other since kindergarten, at three years old, inseparable until high school graduation. Even when we went to different cities for college, we called and Snapchatted every day. She’d had one breakup back then, and after it, she changed her Ins bio to “Sleep with all handsome men.” I worried she was falling apart, worried something bad would happen to her. I called every day to check on her, comforted her, told her jokes, hoping she’d get through it. Until one day, she said she was over the breakup. I was happy for her. Then her roommate told me to talk some sense into her, to tell her to value herself. That’s when I found out she’d started a “new boyfriend every week” routine. Later, she got bored and it turned into “one-night stands.” “Sleep with all handsome men” became her favorite motto. Ever since I learned about her countless one-night stands, both as a best friend and a doctor, I’d pleaded with her countless times. Not to change boyfriends so often, to always be safe, to always use protection. Every time, she promised she would. Then her roommate would send me a recording of her cursing me out in the dorm, saying I was nosy. Our childhood friendship gradually faded. Calls and Snapchats went from several a day, to once every two days, then once a week, and eventually, once a month. The last time we saw each other was six months ago. In my previous life, when she came for the check-up, I thought it was just a coincidence. I didn’t think much of it then. Now I understood. Chloe knew she had HIV all along. I stared intently into her eyes, not missing a single expression, and probed: “It’s just a check-up. If you’re healthy, what’s there to be afraid of?” 0Chloe rubbed her nose, a flicker of guilt in her eyes, and chuckled awkwardly: “Of course I’m healthy! What disease could I possibly have? You’re my absolute best friend, I just really, really wanted your blessing here.” I masked the raging hatred in my eyes, wanting to confirm my suspicions once more. “I already blessed you. If you’re healthy, it doesn’t matter who your check-up doctor is. I don’t feel well, I’m going to the hospital first.” This time, I would never put myself in danger again. She held onto my arm, a playful grin on her face. “Hehe! How can my health be more important than our wedding, right, Derek?” But I felt a deep malice in her words.

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Everyone in the city’s most powerful circles knew Julian Sterling was obsessed with my skin, pristine as moonlight. He even splurged a fortune to build a suspended crystal palace, just so he could sketch the most exquisite artworks on my body as dusk bled into night. He called me his greatest living masterpiece. But masterpieces, once touched by the mundane, become flawed. So, in the inferno that consumed his entire art gallery, he chose to salvage the cold canvases, leaving me to burn in the flames. As I lay dying on the frigid operating table, I heard his voice crystal clear, addressing the surgeon— “Be careful. Don’t ruin this skin.” “Seraphina is waiting to wear it.” They all believed I had turned to ash in that fire. But I came back. From the scorched earth, I rose again, a broken body reborn, and I came back for revenge. At the Sterling Corp’s charity gala, I saw my skin. It was on another woman. I wore an artistic veil, watching my ex-husband, Julian Sterling, with his new arm candy, Seraphina Hayes, as they stole the spotlight. Under the flashing lights, the skin on Seraphina’s back was flawless and luminous, so beautiful it was impossible to look away. It shimmered like pure moonlight, earning it the media’s nickname, “Moonlight Skin.” But it was mine. My gloved fingertips curled into a tight fist. The agonizing pain of being flayed alive three years ago felt like it was tearing through my nerves all over again. Julian basked in the admiring glances. He wrapped an arm around Seraphina, speaking in that familiar, overly sincere, utterly fake tone of his: “Many of you know my deceased wife, Stella Nova, once possessed the most perfect skin in the world.” I almost laughed out loud. Deceased wife? His gaze burned with feverish admiration as he caressed Seraphina’s back. “Now, medicine has allowed her to be reborn, in a different way.” The entire hall erupted in applause. They praised love, they praised technology, they praised a man’s devotion to his deceased wife. No one seemed to think it was utterly horrifying that a madman had flayed his wife and sewn her skin onto his mistress. The hatred churned in my gut. Just then, the host called out my new name. “Next, please welcome the rising entrepreneur, Ms. Blair Thorne, for her address!” It was my turn. I smoothed down my black gown and walked onto the stage. Each step of my heels was precise, firm, like I was treading on my enemies’ hearts. I took the microphone. My voice, hoarse from the fire, carried a strange, piercing quality through the speakers. “Hello everyone, I’m Blair Thorne.” My gaze swept over everyone, locking directly onto Seraphina. She seemed to squirm under my stare. “I’ve just returned to the country. I heard Mr. Sterling had acquired a truly exquisite treasure, and seeing it today, it certainly lives up to its reputation.” I paused, then smiled, changing my tone. “It’s just that I have a peculiar little hobby when it comes to collecting.” “I always believe that an object truly becomes art only when it’s placed in the right setting. If it’s placed in the wrong one…” I paused again, then spoke each word clearly, distinctly: “Then it’s just… trash… draped in human skin.” I watched with satisfaction as Seraphina’s face instantly drained of color. Only then did I turn my attention to Julian Sterling. His composure had shattered, and he was staring at me, utterly transfixed. I offered him a sweet smile. “Mr. Sterling, wouldn’t you agree?” The entire room fell silent. I glided off the stage, stepping over everyone’s stunned expressions. As I passed him, I leaned in, blowing a whisper into his ear, a sound only he could hear. “That gossamer silk is high-end.” “And frankly, not just any cheap imitation deserves to be wrapped in it.” I felt his body stiffen, his breath catching in his throat. With an even softer, more venomous voice, I delivered my blessing. “Julian Sterling, your new collection piece…” “Looks like it’s rotting already.” … The gala, naturally, ended in disarray. I, the madwoman who dared to publicly humiliate Julian Sterling, became the city’s hottest gossip. And Julian? He wasted no time trying to reclaim his dignity.

At my new brand “Phoenix Rising” launch event, he showed up conspicuously with Seraphina. Seraphina wore a backless gown, her “Moonlight Skin” on full display. The entire press corps’ flashbulbs seemed to gravitate towards them. What truly sickened me was the familiar scent clinging to her. ‘Moonlight Whispers’. It had been my proudest creation, a perfume I’d blended exclusively for Julian. Catalyzed by my body temperature, it released a unique, cool yet lingering base note. That scent was Stella Nova and Julian Sterling’s exclusive memory. Now, that memory was being brazenly sprayed by a crude impersonator. Julian’s Adam’s apple bobbed. The look in his eyes as he gazed at Seraphina held infatuation, but also a fleeting hint of confusion. Because the scent was off. It was missing the most crucial ingredient. My body temperature. My soul. Seraphina, oblivious, clung to Julian’s arm and deliberately walked up to me, showing off. “Ms. Thorne, what a coincidence. Do you also like ‘Moonlight Whispers’?” “Julian says it’s the most beautiful scent he’s ever smelled.” I looked at her face, which was practically screaming provocation, and smiled. “Is that so?” “Yet, I always feel that fakes, no matter how good, never quite make the cut.” Soon, the launch officially began. I stood under the spotlight, holding a bottle of perfume, its dark liquid swirling within. “Thank you all for attending the Phoenix Rising launch event.” “Returning to ashes, then reborn.” My voice, a little raspy from the fire, was exceptionally clear through the microphone. “Today, I’m only introducing one product.” I raised the bottle in my hand and lightly pressed the sprayer into the air. “Its name is ‘Heart Ablaze’.” A strange fragrance instantly permeated the air. It wasn’t any kind of floral or woody scent. The top note was the scorching heat of a raging fire. The middle note was the icy coldness of betrayal piercing through bone. The base note was the scent of dead ashes, after everything had settled. “It was created to commemorate a lost love.” My gaze, dark and lingering, fell on Seraphina. “The top note is love, the middle note is betrayal, and the base note is ashes.” “What’s even more interesting is, it can awaken memories.” “It contains a special catalyst that can resonate in a magical way with certain ‘borrowed elements’.” As soon as the words left my lips, I aimed the perfume sprayer into the air and pressed it again. The fine, misty spray of perfume descended like a gentle rain, settling softly on everyone’s hair and shoulders. But the moment it touched Seraphina, a drastic change occurred! “Ah!” A piercing scream ripped through the venue. Seraphina’s flawless, luminous “Moonlight Skin” erupted in large, visible red rashes. It was as if countless invisible poisoned needles were brutally stabbing her. The imitation perfume on her, catalyzed by ‘Heart Ablaze’, transformed into a nauseating, putrid stench! The beautiful masterpiece, before everyone’s eyes, became a piece of rotting flesh! “It itches! It hurts so bad!” Seraphina shrieked in terror, frantically clawing at her back, instantly leaving streaks of blood. The entire hall erupted in chaos! Reporters’ flashlights flickered madly, capturing the horrifying scene. “Security! A doctor!” Julian Sterling’s face was ashen as he clutched a nearly hysterical Seraphina. Then he lunged onto the stage, grabbing my wrist with a force that threatened to crush my bones. Those eyes, once filled with false affection, now held only bloodshot terror. He stared at me, rigid. “What did you do?!” “Who… who exactly are you?!” Julian Sterling’s voice was tinged with a rare loss of control. I stood in the center of the stage, meeting his furious gaze, but offered no reply. Instead, I slowly, chillingly, offered him a cold, mysterious smile.

I turned and walked off the stage, crisp and decisive. My silence firmly hooked Julian Sterling’s sanity. And the real show had only just begun. After the launch event, I gave him a full three days to spiral. For those three days, the name “Blair Thorne” and her almost insane debut were the talk of the entire city’s elite. And the real lunatic, Julian Sterling, mobilized every connection he had, practically turning the city upside down to find me. But “Blair Thorne” seemed to have sprung from thin air, with no past, no traces. His punches landed in empty space, only fueling his deeper anxiety. Meanwhile, my second grand gift to him was quietly “blooming” in that lavish crystal villa. Seraphina was completely locked away by him. My private investigator told me that the best dermatologists in the city were sent to the villa, one after another, only to leave, one after another, at their wit’s end. The rashes were like a curse rooted in her flesh and blood; they didn’t subside but intensified. The catalyst in ‘Heart Ablaze’ specifically targeted the immune rejection of allogeneic transplanted skin. Medically, it’s called an “Accelerated Chronic Rejection Serum.” My little gift to Seraphina? She’d never get rid of it. Just as Julian Sterling’s patience and sanity were stretched to their limits. On the evening of the fourth day, I sent him a text: “Want answers? Meet me at our old spot.” Our old spot was the ruins of the burnt-down suspended art gallery. Three years ago, our love was buried there. Today, I would bury him there. The ruins were littered with broken steel beams, and the charred walls still bore the marks of the inferno from back then. Julian Sterling’s steps faltered slightly. He stopped about five meters in front of me, scrutinizing me warily. He hoarsely repeated the question from three days ago, but his tone now carried a hint of despair: “Who are you, really? Why are you hurting Seraphina?” I chuckled softly. “Hurting? Mr. Sterling, that’s an interesting way to put it. I merely let her experience firsthand what ‘rejection’ feels like.” “What are you talking about?!” “Don’t you, of all people, understand medicine? Don’t you know what the biggest risk of allogeneic transplantation is?” “It’s rejection, Julian Sterling.” His pupils constricted sharply. “You…” “What, did something click?” I took a step towards him, radiating the chill of hell. “Those things you said to the surgeon on the operating table three years ago, do you remember them?” Julian Sterling’s face completely lost its color. He trembled, taking a step back, as if he’d seen a ghost. “No… impossible, Stella is dead, I saw her with my own eyes…” “You saw her what?” I stood directly in front of him, slowly raising my hand. “Saw her burn to death? Or saw her flayed alive?” I lifted my hand, and my veil slipped. A face emerged, a tapestry of charred and newly formed flesh, crisscrossed with scars, like shattered porcelain forcibly reassembled. Some areas were newly pink, tender flesh, others were permanently carbonized, a disturbing yet shattered beauty. Julian Sterling froze. His eyes were wide, his Adam’s apple bobbed, his lips trembled, but no sound escaped him, as if his soul had been ripped from his body. “Well?” I gently caressed my disfigured cheek, my movements as tender as if I were touching a priceless artifact. “Between that perfect ‘Moonlight Skin’ and my ‘Shattered Porcelain’ reborn from fire, which one do you prefer?” I pointed towards the distant crystal villa, a cruel smile on my face. “One is my unique work of art; the other is a rotting fake.” “Mr. Sterling, the great collector, which do you choose?”

Julian Sterling finally managed to make a sound: “Ste…Stella…” “Wrong name,” I corrected him with a smile. “Now, I’m Blair Thorne. Stella Nova was burned to death by your and Seraphina Hayes’s own hands in that fire three years ago.” He instinctively reached out to me, wanting to touch my face, but his fingertips stopped an inch short in mid-air. Not because of its ugliness. But because that beauty, fractured to its extreme, once again ignited the twisted possessiveness deep within him. His eyes began to gleam, his breathing grew quick and shallow, and that familiar madness reignited in his pupils: “Even… even more perfect…” I watched the familiar, twisted fervor in his eyes and finally couldn’t help but burst into laughter. “Julian Sterling, you truly are still that pervert.” “No, *this* is true art!” His voice held a sick fascination. “Stella, look, the marks the flames left on you are more perfect than any sculpture. This beauty, reborn from breakage, is practically God’s masterpiece!” I looked at his gleaming eyes, and a wave of nausea rolled in my stomach. He was starting again. Three years ago, he had looked at my skin the same way, with that collector’s appraisal. “Come back to me!” He stretched out his hand, his voice laced with commanding fervor. “I’ll make you a unique collection piece, grander than ever before!” “I’ll build a larger exhibition hall for you!” “Let the whole world come and admire this priceless treasure!” “Enough.” I took a step back, my voice as cold as a blade. Julian Sterling was unmoved; instead, he laughed with even greater abandon. “Are you still angry?” “That’s all in the past.” “Seraphina was just a replacement, a failed imitation.” “You are my true love, my most precious collection.” He said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As if being flayed was my honor. I pulled out my phone from my pocket and played an audio recording. Dr. Maxwell Vance’s clear voice echoed from the phone. “Object-induced Art Phobia is a rare psychological condition.” “Patients develop extreme fear of specific art pieces.” “This fear often stems from traumatic memories and can be activated through specific trigger words…” Julian Sterling frowned, scoffing. “Playing mind games.” “You think these psychology tricks can scare me?” I turned off the recording and said softly. “Are you sure?” Then, I spoke the hypnotic command phrase Dr. Maxwell Vance had carefully designed, word for word. “The operating table is on fire.” The effect was instantaneous. Julian Sterling’s body froze. His breathing grew ragged, his eyes wide with terror. “No… impossible…” He began to cough violently, clutching his head with both hands. “Scalpel… fire… fire everywhere…” I watched silently as he fell to his knees. Trembling uncontrollably. This once arrogant collector was now like a startled wild animal. “How do you like it, Mr. Sterling?” “Now do you know what fear feels like?” His eyes were filled with incomprehensible terror. His lips quivered, unable to form a word. I stood up, looking down at him. “This is just an appetizer.” “Every day from now on, you’ll live in this fear.” “The moment you see a scalpel, the moment you smell disinfectant.” “Even just hearing the word ‘surgery’.” “You’ll remember that fire.” “What… what did you do to me?” Julian Sterling barely managed to squeeze out the words, his voice utterly hoarse. “You tell me?”

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I’m a top-tier litigator, or at least I was. When I handed in my resignation, everyone cheered. My resignation was approved faster than a speeding bullet. Only Chloe Sterling, an intern from my fiancé’s law firm, was visibly distressed. Ignoring everyone’s protests, she insisted on kneeling before me, begging me to stay. “Ms. Hayes,” she pleaded, her voice trembling, “even if the evidence you gathered proved useless, the legal world still needs someone with your dedication!” I scoffed, a bitter taste in my mouth, and turned my back on her. In my past life, I poured my heart and soul into defending the innocent, going to extreme lengths, risking everything to collect even the most minuscule pieces of evidence. Yet, every time I stepped into court, Chloe would stand on the opposing side, systematically dismantling my arguments, securing victories for the wicked. Powerful tycoons hailed her as a legal prodigy, while cruelly branding me a self-righteous clown for fighting for the poor. After a string of crushing defeats, the victims’ families, convinced I was deliberately sabotaging cases, kidnapped me and drowned me in the ocean. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Chloe first sought my advice, right before our first trial.

“Stella, this case isn’t tough. I’m confident you’ll secure our eleventh consecutive win for the firm!” I snapped back to reality, seeing my boss, Mr. Harrison, beaming at me, and the familiar comfort of my office. “Don’t be so sure,” Ashley, a colleague who’d always disliked me, piped up, seizing the opportunity to mock me. “I heard the firm next door has a legal genius intern. She won countless awards in college. This time, she’s up against our chief litigator, Stella. Are you nervous?” I swayed as I stood, staring in disbelief at the scene before me. I was actually back on the day of my first clash with Chloe—the very day her legend as a legal prodigy began! Frantically, I shuffled through the evidence on my desk. It was meticulously organized, every photo accounted for. Just like in my previous life, Chloe walked into my office, a Boba tea in her hand. “Stella, this is an extra one my mentor, Leo, got when he bought his. I brought it for you! It’s my first time in court, so please, go easy on me.” In my past life, I’d drunk that tea and found myself rushing to the restroom multiple times. Had Chloe used that opportunity to peek at my case files? This time, I merely took the cup, my voice flat. “The law is merciless!” Without giving her a chance to respond, I clutched my evidence and drove straight to the courthouse. Half an hour later, Chloe and I stood on opposite sides of the courtroom. “When the victim died, the defendant claimed to be at The Nightfall Club, with a witness to corroborate his alibi. However, my investigation of the Maple Street surveillance footage yesterday shows the defendant’s car leaving the scene three minutes after the victim’s death. Defense counsel, please respond.” I presented the photos and evidence. But when I looked at Chloe, she didn’t flinch. “Your Honor, I also have the Maple Street surveillance footage here. However, the license plate on the vehicle is not that of my client. Is it possible that the plaintiff’s attorney has tampered with the surveillance evidence?” A collective gasp swept through the audience, and whispers erupted as people pointed fingers at me. Ashley shot me a middle finger. Over the next few minutes, I continued to present evidence, but Chloe countered each piece instantly, catching me completely off guard. I felt myself swaying, the room spinning. This was exactly how it had happened in my past life. It was this very lawsuit that marked the beginning of Chloe’s widespread fame as a legal prodigy. She was hailed as the goddess of justice, a true savior of the legal world. Her evidence was always impeccable, and her efficiency unmatched. What took me half a month to investigate and organize, she completed in three days, drastically cutting down client fees. “That chief litigator is a fraud! She claims to help the poor, but she’s just taking money from both sides—she can’t even win a case!” “She’s an animal, fabricating evidence and framing people! Doesn’t she fear the victims rising from their graves to drag her to hell?!” To prove my innocence, I worked tirelessly, day and night, risking life and limb to uncover the truth and evidence. But every time I entered the courtroom, Chloe either produced the evidence before me or proved that mine was fabricated. The victims’ families, believing I had taken money from the killers to intentionally frame the innocent with false evidence, banded together, kidnapped me, and drowned me in the sea. My parents, desperate to find a lawyer for my case, found all doors closed. Even my fiancé, Leo, cut ties with me. Chloe appeared in court on my behalf, telling everyone that she had found evidence proving I had committed suicide out of shame. My parents didn’t believe it. They vowed to sue Chloe and see her punished, but then they were brutally murdered by the victims’ families. Now, reborn, I would make sure Chloe exposed herself and was utterly disgraced!

“Did you hear? She’s just an intern? And she so easily beat Stella Hayes, the chief litigator!” “It’s not over yet, is it? Let’s see if Stella has any more evidence.” The discussions in the gallery grew louder, everyone eager for the outcome of the lawsuit. My face was pale as I waited for the judge’s final verdict. When the word “lose” reached my ears, a murmur of shock and suspicion rippled through the audience. Mr. Harrison walked down from the bench, a look of disappointment on his face, patting my shoulder encouragingly. “Maybe you’ve been working too hard lately. Take a couple of days off!” “How could the chief litigator lose to an intern? Were all her previous wins just flukes?” Listening to the audience’s speculation, I tried to calm myself. Since I’d been given a second chance at life, I would proceed cautiously, step by step, to find a flaw in her methods. Chloe couldn’t possibly have beaten me through legitimate means. How else could her evidence align perfectly with mine? I suspected Leo, my fiancé, might have looked at my evidence at home for the sake of his law firm. After two days of rest, Mr. Harrison assigned me another case. This time, I dared not go home. I always avoided Leo’s return times, and I locked all my evidence in a safe. Even when going out to investigate, I was extremely cautious, never driving myself. Ashley mocked me, calling me crazy and paranoid, saying I never went home. But I felt foolproof. This time, no one knew my whereabouts, and no one could access my evidence. I simply refused to believe that Chloe could use my own evidence against me this time. Full of confidence, I stepped into the courtroom again. I meticulously laid out my evidence, connecting all the clues and motives, leading to the undeniable conclusion that the defendant was the murderer. But Chloe remained perfectly calm. I started to feel uneasy. Could she… When I finished, she again presented evidence, completely demolishing mine. Ultimately, I lost again. Thunderous applause erupted from the gallery, crushing me, leaving me breathless. After court, she walked toward me, a smile playing on her lips. “Stella, I guess I win again!” This time, I had been incredibly careful, even avoiding going home, so the problem wasn’t with Leo. I calmly reconsidered. Perhaps, since the cases were similar and Leo and I were classmates and partners, our thoughts might align. So, he might have guided Chloe on where to find case breakthroughs. The moment I took on a new case, I immediately asked for the name of the opposing counsel. As long as it wasn’t Chloe Sterling, my evidence would be impeccable. So, I boldly resumed my investigation, from surveillance footage of every street the victim walked down, to questioning people at every mall they passed through. I desperately collected every usable clue and piece of evidence, ensuring nothing was overlooked. Ashley sneered, “Didn’t you refuse to go home last time, afraid someone would steal your evidence? Why are you throwing caution to the wind now?” I ignored her, focusing solely on organizing my evidence into a cohesive chain. This time, I was certain I would win this case! I found out that Chloe didn’t know I had taken on this case, and I breathed a sigh of relief. But just as I presented half of my evidence in court, the opposing lawyer began to crumble under my relentless assault. After a one-hour recess, the defense attorney was replaced by Chloe. The result, as you can imagine, was the same: my evidence was once again completely overturned by Chloe. I sank back into my seat at the defense table, disbelief washing over me, as I met the disappointed gazes of the victims’ families. How could Chloe have done it so perfectly when she clearly hadn’t had time to investigate? Chloe, meanwhile, accepted the defendant’s praises with a radiant smile, showing no signs of anything amiss. I was beyond thinking. The public’s curses made me feel like life wasn’t worth living. Leo, seeing my disheveled state, frowned in displeasure. “Stella, is it so hard to admit you’re not as good? Who are you putting on this act for?” I had so much to say, but no words came out. Chloe linked her arm through his. “Don’t be so hard on Stella, Leo. I’ve seen how hard she works. She’s just not as naturally gifted!” She turned to him, her voice sweet. “You promised to take me out to celebrate if I won this case! Stella, want to join us?” Leo glanced at me dismissively, his tone commanding. “You should go home and rest for a few days. You’ve been obsessing lately! Maybe you should just focus on planning our wedding and starting a family. If you don’t have Chloe’s talent, don’t force it!” I couldn’t bear to meet the eyes of Mr. Harrison or my colleagues. An inexplicable dread filled me when I thought of Chloe’s abilities. But I couldn’t find a single flaw in her methods. I had tried almost every possible way. How was Chloe doing it? 4. From that day on, the firm gradually stopped assigning me cases. Everyone started treating me like I was invisible. Even Mr. Harrison began secretly contacting Chloe, trying to lure her to our firm. My private office was emptied out, too, supposedly to make room for someone more capable. My life became a torrent of mockery and curses. Chloe visited me once during this period. She leaned in close, her eyes brimming with disdain. “Aren’t you feeling helpless? Without a clue?” She whispered, “Stella, you just can’t compare to me! Your reputation, even your fiancé—I’m taking it all!” Chloe’s fame spread back to our alma mater. The prestigious alumni spotlight, which had once belonged to me, now featured Chloe’s name. And the invitation I’d received last month to speak at the school’s sharing session was rescinded; they informed me of a last-minute change. In an instant, Chloe was basking in glory, while I felt like I was sinking into quicksand. Just then, someone came knocking, specifically asking for me to be their defense attorney. “Ms. Hayes, I know you can help me. I don’t have much money, but for my mother’s case, I only trust you!” I recognized the girl, Maya Rodriguez. It was a sexual assault case where I had helped send her stepfather to prison, finally freeing her and her mother. Ashley rolled her eyes from the side. “She’s notorious now, no one dares to represent her. Little girl, anyone else here would be better than her. At least we wouldn’t lose to a fresh graduate! And we certainly wouldn’t lose three cases in a row!” But Maya said with unwavering conviction, “My mind is made up. I believe in Ms. Hayes!” Mr. Harrison called me into his office, giving me a stern talking-to. “Stella, this is your last chance to turn things around. You know once your reputation is ruined, no one will hire you for cases. Our firm doesn’t keep dead weight.” His words were ruthless, and they placed an immense pressure on me. I swore to him that if I lost this case, I would change professions! I worked day and night, even infiltrating the private club where Maya’s mother worked. After being plied with over a dozen drinks, I finally got some crucial information out of a big shot. The perpetrator, it turned out, was a wealthy heir. I gritted my teeth. No one is above the law. If I had enough evidence, I could definitely send him to prison. On the day of the trial, countless media cameras focused on me. “Chief Litigator’s career in a do-or-die battle. Will she make a comeback?” Seeing Maya’s tear-filled eyes in the gallery, my resolve hardened. I had never been defeated before. Armed with my evidence, I was unstoppable in court. Just when I thought victory was finally within my grasp, Chloe rushed into the opposing counsel’s seat. My breath hitched. A terrible premonition flooded my mind. Chloe and I were locked in a stalemate. I gripped the solid proof in my hand that would nail the wealthy heir as the culprit. But Chloe merely offered a faint smile. “This last piece of evidence in your hand… it must be the footprints in the private club’s restroom, right?” Her smile widened, laced with a predatory edge. “Too bad. My client has a high-low gait; his right foot doesn’t fully touch the ground. So, those footprints on the floor aren’t his.” My head exploded. Even before I presented it, she knew exactly what evidence I held. After the judge announced the verdict, I looked into the gallery, but Maya was gone. My skin crawled, my heart pounding uncontrollably.

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To buy Brendan a hearing aid, I worked three jobs a day. When my step-brother, Julian, found out, his eyes darkened, sharp and intense. “You’re working yourself to death for some guy. Are you planning on moving in with him?” I sneered, “None of your business.” Later, I overheard Brendan talking to his roommate. “Just pretending to be deaf to mess with that idiot. His measly cash? Who even cares about that, seriously, haha.” “He’s pretty, I’ll give him that. But I’m not into guys.” The guys burst into laughter. Someone asked him, “What if Alex finds out?” Brendan casually drawled, “He won’t. Even if he does, I’ll just sweet-talk him.” “My ear went deaf saving him, you know. All I have to do is say a few nice words, and he’ll melt.” Turns out, I was the only fool all along. I wanted to leave, but my step-brother grabbed my neck, pulling me close for a harsh kiss. My voice trembled as I challenged him, “…What do you mean by that?” His voice was low and rough. “I mean, I want to *take* you.”

Standing outside Brendan’s dorm, I felt a heavy silence. I raised my hand to knock, then lowered it again. The voices from inside continued. “Just pretending to be deaf to mess with that idiot, that’s all.” “And liking guys? Not really my thing.” The guys suddenly laughed. After a moment. Someone asked him, “What if Alex finds out?” Brendan lit a cigarette, his voice casual. “He won’t. Even if he does, I’ll just sweet-talk him a bit.” “My ear went deaf saving him, you know. All I have to do is say a few nice words, and he’ll melt.” Brendan’s ear was accidentally damaged while saving me, which is why I felt guilty and wanted to make it up to him. So, I picked up several part-time jobs, working nonstop to earn money. I lost over ten pounds in a month, all just to save up for his hearing aid. I never thought I was the only fool. Now, I’d finally saved up enough cash. Brendan’s hearing loss was faked. His poverty was faked too. He played me like a fiddle. “Brendan, if you don’t like guys, why did you even get with him? This kid, he looks a bit girly-looking, but he is pretty. Still, thinking he’s a guy just makes me… totally turned off.” “Is being gay really that fun?” Brendan chuckled from inside. “It’s great! Don’t you think Alex is overly obedient?” His roommates roared with laughter. “Isn’t that because you’re such a good trainer, Brendan? I heard you asked Alex to move in with you last week, and he refused, right?” Last week, Brendan suddenly suggested we move in together, but I said no. Brendan was really upset. I had to sweet-talk him for three days before he finally bothered to talk to me again. At the mention of it, Brendan bit on his cigarette, mumbling a reply. “Yeah.” “He said he doesn’t want to live together right now.”

Someone teased. “Brendan, you’re thinking about it all wrong. Those people play all sorts of games. Alex is probably just playing hard to get. Ask him a few more times, and he’ll definitely agree.” I scoffed. Like hell I would. I kicked the door open. Silence instantly fell inside. Brendan still had a cigarette dangling from his mouth, and he froze when he saw me. The guy who’d just been talking about me was the first to react. Grinning, he said, “Alex, here to see Brendan again? You two are so close.” Brendan finally came to his senses. He put out his cigarette and asked me softly, “Why are you suddenly here?” I flung the wad of cash right into his face. I raised my hand and smacked him hard across the face. Brendan was stunned. His two roommates were frozen too. They hadn’t expected me to hit him. “Alex, what the hell is wrong with you?!” The guy closest to Brendan swore at me. I ignored him. I just stared at Brendan. I might look thin, but I’m still a guy. Brendan stumbled back a couple of steps from my blow. He covered his face, looking at me in disbelief. I gave a light, bitter laugh. “Brendan, you must have worked really hard pretending to be deaf and playing with a fool like me.” “You don’t have to pretend anymore.” Brendan’s face was pale as he tried to explain, but he couldn’t find the words. Looking at the money scattered on the floor. I said, “Consider this money compensation for you. After all, it must be hard liking men when you don’t.” “You must have been truly wronged.” 2. Brendan thought he could sweet-talk me like always. He didn’t expect me to block him on every single platform. He got angry too. He didn’t send me any more messages. In the past, whenever Brendan and I had a fight, I was always the one who gave in first. This time, Brendan also expected me to back down and smooth things over. Then we’d be back to normal. But he was wrong. My heart was really hardened. I wasn’t going to go back and coax him. A week passed. Brendan couldn’t take it anymore. He came to my dorm to find me. But my roommates told him I’d already moved out. Brendan froze. I wasn’t looking for him, but he blocked my path himself. The cafeteria was crowded. Brendan stood in front of me. “Move.” I said coldly. Brendan pursed his lips and looked at me for a long moment, then finally stepped aside. I found a table and sat down. I’d barely had two bites when Brendan sat across from me. “Alex, I was wrong to lie to you, but I’ve already apologized. What more do you want?” Brendan was used to being the spoiled rich kid I always pampered. He thought sending a couple of apology messages was enough to show sincerity. I lifted my eyes, sneering. “Brendan, do you still think we’re just having an argument?” Brendan flinched. He thought I was just angry he lied, so I was upset. But that sweet-talking me would fix it. He thought I was easy to appease because I used to feel guilty about him; I felt for him. So no matter how angry I got, I’d just swallow it. And tell him: “Don’t make me mad again next time.” Under Brendan’s gaze, I said slowly, word by word: “We’re over, you asshole.”

Brendan and I were middle school classmates. I never expected to meet him again in college. And in the same major, too. When he saw me in class, Brendan actually rubbed his eyes several times. As if he couldn’t believe I was there. In middle school, I was pushed aside because I was too pretty, too delicate-looking. So I didn’t talk much. Simply put, I was extremely introverted. Someone even called me an autistic orphan once. After the high school entrance exam, I moved. I went to another city for school. Brendan approached me like he’d found a kindred spirit, striking up a conversation. When he talked about middle school, he always looked embarrassed. “Alex, I was really ignorant back then. I’m sorry!” I didn’t know what Brendan was apologizing for. After all, Brendan hadn’t cursed at me like the others back then. Once we got to know each other, Brendan often came to my dorm. That day, my other roommates were all out, so I just decided to watch a gay movie. I didn’t know when Brendan arrived. When our eyes met, he looked really awkward. He stammered out, “You like guys?” Afraid he’d been too blunt. He quickly changed his wording, “I mean, not many people watch these kinds of movies…” I admitted it openly. “Yeah, I like guys.” “Oh.” Brendan didn’t say anything else. He just accidentally bumped into the door as he left.

Brendan avoided me for a month. Then he awkwardly sought me out to talk. “It’s really nothing to like guys, it’s all the same.” That was the first thing Brendan said in our chat. He thought he was comforting me. But what’s wrong with me liking guys? I don’t owe anyone anything. Even now, I don’t owe anyone anything. This meal was clearly not going to be enjoyed. When I left, Brendan kept following me. We reached the campus gate. Brendan strode forward and asked, “Why did you suddenly move out?” From that angle, I could see a small scar on Brendan’s right ear. That was before Brendan and I were together. I’d had a small conflict with someone else. They were pissed off, so they ambushed me on my way back for revenge. When Brendan arrived, I was being held down and beaten. He fought those guys like a maniac. But he was just one person. Outnumbered, Brendan got pretty beat up. When his right ear was hit, it immediately started bleeding. Those guys panicked when they saw Brendan fall. They just wanted to teach me a small lesson, not kill anyone. They ran off. Back then, Brendan went deaf. Completely unable to hear. Seeing Brendan’s questioning look, I took a step back, putting distance between us. “It’s none of your business.”

When I got home, someone was sitting in the living room. My… step-brother. Julian hadn’t even had time to change out of his work clothes; it was clear he’d rushed straight from the office. I frowned slightly. “What are you doing here?” Julian’s calm eyes met mine, completely unruffled. He placed the book he’d been casually flipping through back in its spot. He looked me up and down. “You’ve lost weight.” Julian didn’t seem to pay attention to my question. I put down my backpack. Julian handed me a glass of water. I took it and drank it all. Only then did Julian say, “Came to see you.” I lowered my gaze, sitting on the sofa. “There’s nothing to see.” The room fell silent. The tiny old house occasionally filled with the chirping of small insects. It was a bit grating. Julian looked completely out of place here. “I bought you an apartment near your university. Move in this weekend.” I just noticed the keys on the table. After staring at them for a while, I slowly looked away. “No, thanks. I’m fine living here.” “Move in.” Julian said, leaving no room for argument. I looked up, staring at Julian. Word by word, I said, “I told you, I don’t want to move there.”

“Why?” I didn’t want to owe his family anything. And I didn’t want to spend Julian’s money. I didn’t want to owe their family *anything*. And I definitely didn’t want to hear outsiders say things like, “My mom brought that dead weight kid with her when she remarried, he’s just going to fight for the inheritance.” That’s why I earned all my tuition and living expenses myself. Any money they gave me, I returned it without touching it. My throat worked, but before I could figure out what to say. I heard Julian’s voice, overly calm, ring out. “Is it because of that guy? Working three jobs a day for him, and now living off-campus, are you planning to move in with him?” Julian stared intently at me. No matter how lightly he spoke. I still caught a hint of something unusual in his tone. I looked away. Avoiding his gaze. “…None of your business.” My relationship with Julian wasn’t exactly good. But it wasn’t bad enough for us to be at each other’s throats. Just average. Julian didn’t say anything else. Soon, my brows furrowed again. “How do you know all this about me? Are you spying on me?!” Julian smirked, his eyes calm. “Do I need to spy?” Right. A piece of baggage like me, everything I do gets spread around the fastest. Especially going to a part-time job. Upper-crust society, always a damn nuisance. Since Julian knew, I didn’t care anymore. “Are you afraid I’ll embarrass your family?” I didn’t mean to say that, but I couldn’t help it. When Julian left, he didn’t take the apartment keys from the table. I looked at them for a moment. In the end, I tossed them into a drawer.

After breaking up with Brendan, I naturally didn’t have to work so many part-time jobs. I had a lot more free time. Brendan came looking for me repeatedly. It was useless. I didn’t want to deal with him at all. He stuck to me like a clingy leech. “…Alex, why are you avoiding me?” Brendan blocked my path, a stubborn look on his face. “That day, I said the wrong thing… I’m sorry, but you should give me a chance to explain.” Oh. Even his apologies were high and mighty, the spoiled rich kid. Damn it. Why didn’t I realize Brendan was such an asshole before? Or does breaking up just make it clear that an asshole is an even bigger asshole? I stared at him. I couldn’t help but scoff. “Brendan, humans get a chance to explain. Dogs don’t.” Brendan gritted his teeth: “Alex, that’s not fair…” I looked coldly at Brendan. “What’s fair? You say it’s not fair because I won’t give you a chance to explain? Brendan, do you really think you’re some main character?” “When you saw me working part-time for your ear, putting up with all those creepy customers touching me, just to get you a hearing aid, did you feel a huge sense of accomplishment?” “Did you think I suffered so much for you, was so good to you, that I was head over heels in love with you, huh?” “Did talking about playing me behind my back satisfy your vanity?” “Brendan, you’re a real asshole.” With every word I spoke, Brendan’s face grew paler. After a long moment, Brendan squeezed out a single sentence through gritted teeth, “I’m sorry.” What good is ‘sorry’? I scoffed coldly. A car parked on the street honked twice. I instinctively looked over. I saw Julian’s icy face. Julian got out of the car and walked straight towards me. My heart skipped a beat. No way? Did he come specifically to catch me? “Alex.” Julian stopped beside me. “Why did it take so long today?” Brendan’s gaze had been scrutinizing Julian. I glanced at Brendan. And just went along with Julian’s words. “Class ran a bit late.” Julian hummed, his gaze falling on Brendan, and asked me: “And this is…” Brendan seemed to snap out of it. Before I could speak, he cut Julian off. “I’m Brendan, his boyfriend!”

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Before my brother Adam died, he entrusted me with the child he and his same-sex partner had adopted. He begged me to raise Liam until he turned eighteen. I hated my brother, and naturally, I hated Liam too. So, even though we lived under the same roof, I never gave Liam a moment of peace. The day he turned twenty, I couldn’t wait to sever all ties with him. Later, Liam brought down my company, forcing me to grovel before him. As he pinned me to the bed, he said, “Uncle Julian, do you know? I truly loathe you.” I looked at his desperate, distorted face and suddenly smiled. “What do you hate me for?” He froze, and a single tear fell onto my face. “You just hate me for not loving you enough.” The hospital call came, and I sat at my desk, burning through three cigarettes. My assistant, Brendan, carefully asked, “Mr. Blackwood, are you going to visit?” “No. I don’t have a brother.” He acknowledged it and left. I stared silently out the window until the last ray of sunset vanished from my sight. Eventually, I got up, grabbed my car keys, and headed out. Adam Blackwood was in the best private hospital, his room overflowing with every imaginable luxury. But the lonely figure lying in the bed was so frail that no amount of wealth could conceal his solitude. He wore an oxygen mask, fogged with the white mist of his agitated breaths. He looked at me with effort, “Jules, you came.” The small boy sitting beside him, nervously fidgeting with his hands, secretly glanced at me, then quickly looked down again. “Don’t call me that.” The name Jules belonged to the gentle, steady brother I once had. It didn’t belong to Adam Blackwood anymore. I pulled up a chair and sat down. “Didn’t you claim to be madly in love back then? You broke from the family for him, drove Mom and Dad to their graves. How is it you’re the only one lying here now?” I scoffed, but seeing the sorrow in his eyes, I found no satisfaction. “I was a fool back then. Now, I guess this is my karma.” He coughed weakly. “Jules, I don’t have many days left. When I die, I’ll apologize to Mom and Dad. But Liam is innocent. Once I’m gone, he’ll have no one. Consider this my last request, please, raise him for me.” “My inheritance, I’ve divided it into two parts. One for you, and the other, you’ll give to him when he turns twenty.” He paused, taking a shallow breath. “If possible, I’d like to be buried in the Rose Garden. I’ve already bought a plot there. Would you be willing to oversee my funeral?” He rambled on about his final wishes. I stared at him, suddenly feeling a desolate emptiness inside. Liam looked up at him, his grape-like eyes brimming with tears, but he held them back. The atmosphere was too heavy, suffocating me. I stood up, ready to leave. He called out more urgently, and with his agitation, the heart monitor began to spike wildly. Liam immediately reached out and clutched my hand. It was the first time I’d heard the kid speak. His voice was tearful, a pitiful plea, “Uncle, please don’t go yet. Will you listen to Dad finish what he has to say?” I paused, took a deep breath, and said nothing. Adam’s voice was faint and strained. “Jules, your brother begs you.” I closed my eyes, fighting back the sting in my nose. “From the day Mom and Dad died, I stopped having a brother.”

I’m not someone who cries easily. Yet, leaving the hospital, I ran a hand over my face, finding it cold and damp. In my early childhood, I thought fate had been incredibly kind to me. I had a wealthy family, loving and harmonious parents, and a mature, steady older brother who adored me. Adam was eleven years my senior. From the moment I was born, I grew up cradled in the arms of my brother, Mom, and Dad. Then, when I was old enough to understand, everything plummeted. Adam brought his partner home. My dad had a heart condition, and the moment Adam knelt, insisting on marrying his partner, Dad suffered an attack. He didn’t make it. Why Adam didn’t turn back, perhaps it was because he truly loved the other man too much, or maybe just because he could no longer face Mom and me. In any case, those years, laughter vanished from our home, and no one mentioned Adam again. Mom and Dad had known each other since youth, loving each other for decades, raising two children. After Dad died, her life, too, began to drain away uncontrollably, like a flower that could no longer draw nourishment. I cried and begged, but ultimately watched helplessly as Mom also left me. I resented Adam, but now, seeing the cold snowflakes outside the hospital, my mind unexpectedly conjured up a childhood memory: him holding me, pinching my tear-reddened cheeks, smiling as he soothed me. It dawned on me, belatedly, that I hated him, but he was also all I had left. After his passing, there would be no one else in the world connected to me by blood. I was finally going to become an orphan, in the truest sense of the word. Just like that kid he adopted.

I still attended his funeral. The faces at the funeral were mostly unfamiliar to me. Only Liam – I remembered that porcelain-doll face very clearly, and I loathed it. I recalled the year Adam adopted Liam; he’d called me. His tone on the phone was a little cautious. “Jules, I’ve adopted a child. He’s very sweet. Would you like to meet him?” “From now on, he’s your little nephew.” “Mom really likes kids, could I…?” My voice was unusually sharp. “No! Don’t even think about it!” “You adopt a kid now, you’re all happy and perfect, and you want to bring him back to disgust us?! Take that little bastard of yours and get as far away as possible!” He was silent for a long time, then his voice trembling, he said, “I’m sorry, Jules.” That was the first time I knew of Liam’s existence, but in my mind, he was never a concrete person. He was more like a symbol, a symbol to disgust me. A symbol that shattered my family while granting the culprit a happy one. I watched him from afar. He wore a black suit, pinned with a white boutonnière. He bowed in return to every mourner. His face was expressionless, but I could see the red, swollen circles on his thin eyelids from crying. That small figure stood before the altar, radiating an indescribable loneliness. I stood far away for a long time, until the condolences ended. Everyone dispersed, but he remained standing there, lost. As if he didn’t know where his future lay, with no one left to guide him. I walked up to him and simply said two words, “Let’s go.” He looked up at me, two streams of large tears falling from his eyes, but fearing he would annoy me, he quickly used his sleeve to wipe them away. He trailed behind me obediently. He kept a distance, not too far that he’d be left behind, not too close that he’d be unwelcome. His legs, tired from standing all day, felt a bit numb. As he walked, he misstepped and fell hard. I stopped, turning back to look at him. His hands were scraped raw from bracing himself on the ground, and his knees had a slight injury. But he quickly scrambled back up, staggering, and gave me an awkward, placating smile. He softly called out, “Uncle Julian.” I had never acknowledged him as my nephew, but watching him carefully rub the dirt from his pants, it was the first time I didn’t refute that title.

I took him home. My work was demanding. After Mom and Dad passed, all the family and company matters fell onto my shoulders. My only responsibility was to keep him alive. Most of the time, I didn’t see him much. One time, I came home and happened to find him eating. Seeing me enter, the person sitting at the dining table immediately put down his forks, stood up awkwardly, and greeted me, “Uncle Julian.” Mr. Jenkins, the butler, helped me change my shoes. I raised my eyelids to look at him, my gaze distant. I saw the expression on his young face shift slightly. Then he lowered his head and called out again, “Mr. Blackwood.” I’d never lived under someone else’s roof, but I vaguely understood that feeling. So, I understood all of Liam’s caution, his anxiety, his wariness. I ignored him and went straight upstairs. Mr. Jenkins followed me, casually asking, “Would you like to eat?” Liam was still standing by the table. I cast a downward glance at his figure. “No, I’m not eating. It kills my appetite.” His body stiffened. From this angle, I couldn’t see the humiliated look on his face. It wasn’t until I returned to my room that Mr. Jenkins spoke, a hint of hesitation in his voice. “Young Master, I know you resent the late Master Adam, but that child…” I changed my clothes and tossed them into his hands. He’d worked for my family for over thirty years, longer than I’d been in the Blackwood household. I considered him half a senior. Hearing him speak, I didn’t get angry; I just smiled and retorted, “Mr. Jenkins thinks he’s very innocent and pitiful?” Mr. Jenkins sighed. “But I don’t see it that way.” Actually, I was lying. How could I not know Liam was innocent? He was merely a child discarded at an orphanage at birth, then coincidentally adopted by Adam. He hadn’t done anything wrong. But when I saw his face, I couldn’t control my resentment and fury. I knew my selfishness and arrogance, but toward Liam, I wouldn’t soften.

Mr. Jenkins and the housekeepers all found Liam to be very well-behaved. He was quiet every day; apart from eating and greeting the household staff, he would obediently stay in his room and study. I became his emergency contact. His teacher called me once. Her tone on the phone was cheerful. “Liam took first place in the competition! There’s an awards ceremony on Monday, please be sure to attend.” She was quite certain I would go; after all, any parent would be proud to hear their child achieved such results. No one around me ever mentioned Liam’s name. So, the hand I was using to sign documents paused for a moment before I realized. “Oh, no, I won’t.” Then, ignoring her surprised reaction on the other end, I hung up directly. The second time she called, I assumed it was another awards ceremony. So, I let it ring. After the phone persistently rang three times, I finally frowned and answered. “Don’t call me about his affairs anymore.” The teacher paused, then said, “Liam got into a fight with a classmate at school. He’s a bit injured. Could you please come to the school?” Her tone had lost the politeness of the first call. I frowned and hung up, kneading my temples in annoyance. Brendan came in with documents. “Mr. Blackwood, everyone’s here, waiting for you in the conference room.” I thought for a moment, then stood up. “Cancel it. I have something to take care of.” Liam, with his quiet demeanor, the kind of kid who would just wipe away tears with his head down even if you slapped him, actually got into a fight. When I arrived at the school, several people were already standing in the office. The other kid had bruises on his face and was being comforted by his mom, who was bending over, asking if he was okay. The other kid’s dad, full of bluster, declared, “It’s definitely not my kid’s fault! He has to pay for damages and apologize to my son today!” The teacher tried to mediate, saying, “We’re not sure about the cause yet. Let’s wait for his guardian to arrive before discussing compensation.” The other kid’s parents looked at Liam, their tone unfriendly. “Where’s your guardian?! Why aren’t they here yet?” Liam stood in the corner, amidst the crowd of protected and doted-on classmates, like a forgotten speck of dust. Through the crack in the door, I saw his figure and suddenly felt how quickly a half-grown kid matures. He seemed to have grown a lot, though I hadn’t noticed. “He won’t come,” I heard Liam’s voice, very calm, utterly devoid of emotion. He showed neither the usual subservience he displayed in front of me nor a hint of vitality. He simply stated the fact, objectively: the fact that he was unvalued, unloved. The other dad’s voice grew louder: “Is that how you act as a parent? Your kid hit my son, and this isn’t over until it’s cleared up!” “Don’t stand there being shameless! You think hitting my son without paying or apologizing will just blow over?!” The teacher tried to mediate: “Please calm down, sir. I’ve already called. Let’s just wait.” He puffed, glaring at Liam, who simply stood there, his hand unconsciously tugging at the side of his pants. “How much longer do we have to wait?!” The teacher also looked troubled, as she’d called me before, and I’d directly said I wouldn’t come. This time, she wasn’t sure if I would show up, only saying, “I’m not sure. His guardian has never shown up when notified to come to school before.” The other kid’s dad scoffed. “No wonder. No one to teach him manners, that’s what happens.” I finally couldn’t listen anymore. Frowning, I pushed the door open. The other kid’s parents immediately looked over. Their eyes assessed my height – a head taller than him – and my broader build, then landed on my suit and wristwatch. Their bluster noticeably deflated. Liam looked at me, his eyes brightening, a little shocked, but he quickly lowered his head and respectfully called out, “Uncle Julian.” I walked in and saw that Liam’s face was also bruised and discolored. Even worse than the other kid’s. I frowned, a surge of inexplicable anger flaring within me. Beat up and still treated like dirt? How pathetic. I scoffed, stepping in front of him, ignoring the complex look in Liam’s eyes. “It’s just compensation, right?” “How much?” The other parents didn’t expect me to cut straight to the point. They exchanged a look, unsure what figure to name. “Is ten thousand enough?” “Well, this…” Seeing their hesitation, I pressed, “Not enough, huh? How about a hundred thousand?” I’d been in too many negotiations. From their micro-expressions alone, I could tell they were quite surprised and satisfied. I curved my lips, took out a check, and smoothly wrote down a string of numbers. As I wrote, I tilted my head and said to Liam, “It’s just a hundred thousand. Is that worth being lectured like a nobody?” “Hit them if you want. I can afford to pay any amount.” I capped the pen and handed the check to them. I knew I had a naturally intimidating presence, and after years in business, I had developed a predatory ruthlessness. When I stared directly at people, their reactions were always similar to this couple’s: fear, unease, they didn’t even reach out for the check in my hand. I smiled. “Go on, take it. There’ll be more later. Make sure your kid takes care of himself. It won’t do to be so fragile.” I saw a bead of cold sweat trickle down the other dad’s temple. The teacher also hadn’t anticipated such a turn of events. “Please calm down, sir. We’re here to solve a problem.” “Yes, children fight, so conflicts must be resolved, right? Who are you threatening?” The child’s mother shielded her son behind her. Liam looked at my face, lips pressed together, saying nothing, his beautiful eyes sparkling. “Ah, so you want to resolve the conflict? Why didn’t you say so earlier?” “My kid was also badly beaten. You two kept demanding apologies and money from us. I thought it was all my kid’s fault.” Hearing that term, Liam’s brow twitched, and he looked at me, but said nothing. To be honest, I didn’t want to call him that, and I never truly considered him “my kid.” But some things just came out naturally in that context. More than disliking Liam, I disliked being humiliated. In human relationships, if you retreat an inch, they’ll advance a foot. But if you’re aggressive and refuse to concede, they’ll become well-behaved and honest. Neither of them would reveal the true reason for the fight, and since both had similar injuries, it ended in a muddled, hasty conclusion. Coming out of the office, I strode ahead, with Liam trailing behind me obediently. After walking in silence for a while, he finally called out to me. “Uncle Julian.” I turned slightly to look at him, at his somewhat naive expression. It seemed that today, I had truly become his guardian, a reliance willing to shelter and stand up for him. He pursed his lips and softly said, “He told me to copy off his test.” “I refused, and he called me a fatherless and motherless bastard.” “So we fought.” He was so young, so tender. Perhaps he himself hadn’t even realized that the vulnerable plea for comfort in his eyes had already saturated the surrounding air. I walked over and, for the first time, gently touched his head, a soothing, gentle gesture. His eyes widened. His amber pupils revealed clear dependence. “Are you very wronged?” He paused, then nodded almost imperceptibly. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. As his expression grew confused, I said to him, “But what he said, what was wrong with it?” “You are a fatherless, motherless, unloved bastard, aren’t you?” I watched, wide-eyed, as his body stiffened, as if pricked by a vicious needle. A mist gathered in his eyes. It had been years since I’d seen him cry. That evening, years ago, when I took him from the funeral home, felt like a lifetime ago. I reveled in my cruel revenge, yet a tiny voice within me issued a faint protest. I withdrew my hand, standing before him with my hands in my pockets. On that beautiful, nascently handsome face, tears streamed down, flowing endlessly towards his neck. Something shattered completely at that moment, something that could never be pieced back together. His voice, trembling, weeping, filled with uncontrollable brokenness. “Can you please, not do this to me?” I stared at him, the curve of my lips slowly flattening. A thought flashed through my mind: Liam, how pitiful.

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I spent ten years with the brooding, disabled Julian Thorne, pouring my heart into making him fall for me. And I felt a deep pity for him. So, when the system declared the mission a success, I didn’t leave that world. Instead, I used all my earned points to give him a healthy body. Julian believed it was a miracle. He started to thrive, and in just a few years, he became a rising star in the business world. At the same time, the faint scent of other women’s perfume started clinging to him. I saw him kissing another woman at an exclusive club. When someone mentioned me, he sneered, “She’s way out of my league now.” I turned away. “System, I want to leave this world.” The System replied, “But you don’t have enough points.” “Then switch that healthy body back. I don’t need it anymore.” I was stopped at the entrance of the elite club. “Cassie, Mr. Thorne isn’t here.” Marc Reynolds, Julian’s loyal subordinate, kept his head down, not daring to meet my eyes. He knew how flimsy his lie was. I looked at him calmly. “When you were at rock bottom, I was the one who gave you a way out.” Years ago, Marc had lost everything to a devastating con that wiped him out. Homeless and with nowhere to go, it was me who bought him a meal and introduced him to Julian’s company. He was capable, though, quickly becoming Julian’s fiercely loyal dog within a few years. Marc’s face flushed crimson, and the hand blocking my path trembled slightly. After a few seconds, he slowly lowered his arm. “Mr. Thorne’s in the penthouse suite.” … No one dared to stop me on the way up. I stood outside the suite door, listening to the familiar voices inside, a complex knot of emotions tightening in my chest. “Mr. Thorne secured that suburban project. He’s a hot commodity in Veridian City now.” “Right? Don’t forget to give us a leg up when the time comes, brother!” Julian’s voice remained lazy, unaffected by the fawning. “You’re joking. I’m just an ordinary guy.” But he wasn’t ordinary at all now. In just five years, he’d transformed from a penniless nobody into a formidable presence in Veridian City’s upper echelons, a highly sought-after business mogul. He had the courage, the strategy, and the ruthlessness. A woman’s giggle drifted out. I looked up. Julian was leaning back, letting a glamorous woman light his cigarette. They were incredibly close, the atmosphere thick with unspoken desire. He let her lean in, leaving an intimate lip print on his neck.

Inside the suite, glasses clinked and conversation flowed freely. “Mr. Thorne, aren’t you twenty-eight this year? When are you tying the knot with Cassie? You absolutely have to invite us to the wedding!” Someone blurted out the question, and the entire room fell silent instantly. Julian, with an arm still around the woman, exhaled a plume of smoke. The swirling haze obscured his expression. The person who spoke realized their blunder. “My apologies! Guess I’ve had too much to drink, Mr. Thorne. Don’t mind me.” “Why would I mind? It’s not like it’s a secret.” Julian chuckled. “You all know about me and Cassandra.” Seeing that the atmosphere wasn’t as awkward as expected, everyone exchanged relieved glances and relaxed. “Right, we all know.” “Cassie was really good to you, no doubt about it.” “Back when you were still…” The person paused, seeing Julian’s gaze, and quickly changed tack. “Speaking of which, we haven’t seen Cassie in ages. What’s she been busy with lately?” “I don’t know.” Julian pressed his cigarette into the ashtray, letting out a slow sigh. “I haven’t seen her in a long time.” No one replied, so he continued talking to himself. “You all know how I used to be, sitting in that wheelchair for over ten years. Even my own mother had given up on me. “I met Cassandra when I was a shell of a man. She saved me. “I’m grateful for her, and I did care for her, but honestly, she doesn’t fit into my life anymore.” A miracle six years ago had allowed him to walk again. It had also overturned his predestined tragic life. He had redefined his life. These past few years had proven it vividly. He was born to shine. Julian’s eyes flickered. “Cassandra saw me at my most pathetic. Now, every time I see her, I’m reminded of those days in the wheelchair. It makes me feel…sick.”

He truly had been pathetic back then. A car accident had left him paralyzed from the waist down. Every day, I’d clean and massage him, sometimes even handling the unavoidable mess. His pale face would always flush crimson with shame, afraid to look up at me. I took a deep breath, then pushed open the suite door. Julian noticed the sudden shift in the room’s atmosphere. He followed everyone’s gaze, turned his head, and saw me. I walked up to him, barely needing to look down. The woman beside him scrambled to her feet and rushed out. “What are you doing here?” Julian didn’t look at me again, reaching for a glass of wine. “Julian,” I said, “Let’s break up.” Julian’s drinking motion paused. “Don’t be dramatic.” “I’m not being dramatic, and I’m not crazy.” I smiled. “These past few years, watching you climb higher and higher, I’ve been happy for you. But my capabilities are limited. I can’t walk with you any further. Julian, you deserve better.” Julian took a nonchalant sip of wine. “You heard what I just said? Are you mad?” “You know I was just talking. You’ve been with me for ten years. I’ll always take care of you. Now, I have things to discuss with them. You should go home.” He truly found me disgusting. Couldn’t stand to look at me for another second. He didn’t care if I’d actually heard what he said, he didn’t care if I was angry. He was certain I wouldn’t leave him. After all, my background was ordinary. His status was now incredibly high, something an ordinary person like me could never achieve in a lifetime. I controlled my emotions. “I’ll move out of the apartment by tomorrow. You don’t need to give me any compensation. Let’s part ways amicably.” With that, I ignored them and turned to leave. “Mr. Thorne, aren’t you going after her?” “Cassie’s really leaving!” “Going after her for what?” Julian was smugly confident. “She’s just talking. Where would she go? She just wants me to pay more attention to her. I can’t bring myself to grovel and coax her now.”

It was late autumn, and standing outside the towering building, feeling the cold wind hit my face, my mind was exceptionally clear. “System, I want to go home.” Three seconds later, a familiar mechanical voice echoed in my mind. “Host, detection shows your points are insufficient to activate the dimensional portal.” I was stunned. Right, all my points were gone. How had I used them? Six years ago, I’d given Julian Thorne a miracle, spending every last point. I was a System Agent. And Julian, he was my target. The first time I met him, I almost gave up on the mission. He was gloomy, paranoid, sitting in his wheelchair, letting his pants get soiled, fiercely rejecting anyone who tried to get close. Like a wounded animal. I felt for him, pitying him, so I deliberately approached him, patiently trying to win him over. I stayed with him for ten years. I pried open the hard shell he used to protect himself, forcefully intervening in his life. I made him accustomed to my presence. Gradually, I made myself indispensable. But those ten years, true feelings had intertwined. I’d developed a near-adoring affection for this poor, self-conscious boy. So, when the System congratulated me on a successful mission, on a strange impulse, I didn’t choose to immediately leave the mission world. At that time, Julian was still a sensitive and fragile young man. He clumsily made a ring for me with his own hands, then, blushing, he put it on my finger. He said his biggest wish was to grow old with Cassandra. But I knew his deepest wish was to walk again. The childhood car accident had made him close himself off. I spent ten years making him open up to me, making my mission no longer purely about the task. I used the points gained from the successful mission to exchange for something from the System. It was a perfectly healthy body. I still remember that morning, Julian carefully walking on the carpet, tears silently falling. He held me and cried for a long time. He said it was the second great miracle bestowed upon him by heaven. I was the first. … Julian began to show his talent and extraordinary business acumen. This healthy body finally allowed him to shine, to stand out in any crowd. I can’t pinpoint when he started to change. I only remember one morning, I smelled a perfume on his suit that didn’t belong in our home. I simply asked about it calmly, and his face instantly showed impatience. “It’s just necessary business entertaining. Don’t be unreasonable.” My question became unreasonable. He spent more and more time entertaining outside, becoming increasingly smooth and cunning. I gradually forgot the shy, blushing boy who used to react to my every word. I also forgot the gloomy, self-conscious, disabled teenager he once was.

The four-hundred-square-meter apartment felt cold and empty. I packed my luggage, calculating the points I needed to return. “Can I exchange that healthy body I redeemed before, back to you?” I asked the System, “I don’t want it anymore. Depreciation is fine.” “Host, please wait.” Data streams flashed rapidly in my mind. The System’s voice remained emotionless. “After calculation, the target Julian Thorne’s body has suffered excessive wear and tear over the past six years. Smoking, drinking, late nights, and promiscuity have severely damaged his body. Its current recovery value is only half of its original worth.” The word “promiscuity” made my packing motions halt. My fingers trembled uncontrollably. After all, he was the man I’d accompanied for over a decade. I was heartbroken by his change of heart. And annoyed by my own softness. Such a person truly wasn’t worth my lingering attachment. “Will the exchanged points be enough for me to leave this world?” “Not enough, Host.” The System continued, “However, I can grant you a new identity. I can apply for a new target for you, and we can start over.” Start over, huh… Fine, I guess. “Then switch that healthy body back.” … As I boarded the plane to leave Veridian City, a half-drunk Julian was being sent back to the apartment by Marc. Perhaps feeling guilty, Marc had defied Julian’s wish to stay at the club and brought him back to our shared home. The System connected to the apartment’s surveillance, allowing me to see Julian’s current state clearly. He lay on the sofa, calling my name. “Cassandra, Cassandra.” Receiving no response, he struggled to sit up. After a long silence, he suddenly chuckled. “Quite the performance, aren’t we?” He thought my scene tonight was just a ploy to get his attention. He rubbed his forehead, a slight frown marring his brow. The headache from the alcohol made him irritable. Julian stood up, slowly walked to the living room, and took a bottle of ice water from the fridge. Just as he unscrewed the cap, he stumbled and fell to the floor unexpectedly. Julian sobered up completely, his mind reeling. He stared at his legs, reaching out with a trembling hand… “My legs…” He gripped them, disbelievingly, but no matter how hard he squeezed, he felt no pain. This feeling was all too familiar. After all, he’d lived like this for over a decade. That miserable, incapacitated, ghostly existence was a nightmare he couldn’t shake. Julian paused, then raised a hand and slapped himself hard across the face. It stung. So this wasn’t a dream… Julian in the surveillance footage completely lost control. He screamed and shouted in the large apartment. He wanted to find someone but realized his phone was on the coffee table. Julian braced himself with his hands on the floor, inching his body forward. His two legs dragged lifelessly behind him. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair disheveled. The composed demeanor he once had was completely gone. I closed my eyes. “Turn it off. I don’t want to see it.”

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I was Julian’s kept man for five years. Purely in name. What he loved was just my face, a mirror image of Leo’s. On nights when his longing became unbearable, his fingers dug into my throat, his eyes blazing red as he snarled, “Kian, why wasn’t it *you* who died?!” I stopped fighting, letting Julian steal my breath. His broken, crumbling expression twisted grotesquely in my blurring vision. In these five years, he’d had so many moments of losing control. One second he’d almost kiss me raw. The next, he’d want me dead. To pay the price for my twin brother, Leo. I indulged every ounce of disgust and hatred festering inside me, picking the words I knew would hurt him most. Each one a knife to his gut. “Don’t pretend to be heartbroken! You never loved him when he was alive, did you? Leo would have poured his damn heart out to you! And you just used him as a pawn in your game with my dad! Go on, kill me! Then this face? You’ll only ever get to stare at it on a damn tombstone!” … After I’d spat my venom, I knew the beating was coming. The worst was two years ago, on Leo’s death anniversary. Julian wiped his lips, a streak of the red from where I’d bitten him, then yanked me to the floor. He grabbed the heavy brass floor lamp from beside the bed and swung it, without hesitation, smashing my knees twice. I bit down, hard, to stifle my cries, but hot, involuntary tears streamed down my face. “There, now you’re even more like Leo,” Julian said, pressing his foot into the hollow behind my knee and twisting his toe. I shook like a leaf, my vision tunneling to black, my jaw finally unlocking as a choked, desperate moan escaped me. Julian knelt, one hand gripping my chin, the other smoothing my bangs, slick with cold sweat. Then he pulled me into his arms. He murmured, his voice thick with tears, “Leo, I miss you so much.” I convulsed in his embrace. Julian, I want you to… Die! But now, I was tired. Exhausted, I let go of all my resentment and hatred. Five years of torturing each other. If one of us had to die for it to end. Then let it be me. I let Julian’s face blur in my vision… “Cough, cough—!” Julian suddenly let go. Air rushed back in, and I coughed violently, snot and tears streaming, pathetic as a clown again. Julian pulled away, standing by the bed, looking down at me as I curled into a ball. His voice was low, hoarse, and cold: “Your life was saved by Leo. You’re not allowed to die.” He was utterly insane. He’d just been trying to kill me moments ago. I nearly coughed my lungs out, finally breaking free from the agony of suffocation. I didn’t care that my clothes were barely covering anything, just lay sprawled on the bed, staring at the ceiling. My voice was steeped in despair: “Julian, it’s been five years. Haven’t you had enough? Leo, wherever he is, wouldn’t want this.” In five years beside him, I’d never said anything that sounded remotely like comfort. Any sane person would have heard that I was unilaterally surrendering, that I didn’t want to fight him anymore. Yet the next second, Julian was back, looming over me. His long, powerful legs forced their way between mine. I felt a flicker of confusion. All these years he’d kept me, Julian had only treated me as a substitute, as the enemy who’d caused Leo’s death. He’d never bothered with the final step. All his kisses, his touches, his bites, his rough handling—they were all just acts of pure rage. This intimate posture, I truly didn’t understand it. Had he come up with a new way to torment me? I awkwardly tried to pull away. He slammed a hand onto my shoulder. “Kian, whether this game between us begins or ends, it’s not up to you.” With that, he covered my mouth. And then reached for my pants! A jolt went through me, and I pushed him, hard: “What are you doing?!” Desire flared in Julian’s eyes. My mind, in a sudden, ill-timed twist, wondered: *Is this for Leo, or for me?* Then Julian’s voice, full of savage cruelty. His knee pressed against me: “Give up, Kian. This is your life now. You’re mine.”

I don’t know how much time passed. I just felt hot and weak all over. In a hazy dream, I thought I saw Leo. He was angry with me, demanding to know why I was sleeping with his beloved man. I wanted to scream that I was a straight guy, I didn’t want to either. But I couldn’t speak, frustrated and scratching at myself. Leo cried harder and harder, until his whole face dissolved into a blurry mess of tears. Just like his horrifying face after he was flung by that speeding car… “Leo!” I cried, but my outstretched hand grasped nothing. Couldn’t grasp Leo, flung by the car. Couldn’t grasp Leo, fading away, still blaming me. … “Kian, it’s me.” A soft, deep male voice, like a gentle, steady breeze, cleared all the chaotic images from my mind. I opened my eyes and saw Spencer sitting beside me. My arm was clutched tightly in his hand, the sleeve of his crisp white shirt already a crumpled mess. I quickly let go, my voice dry and hoarse: “Sorry.” He reached up to check my forehead. His clear, elegant eyes behind his glasses looked away, avoiding my gaze: “The fever’s gone down.” I hummed, glancing at the dim, dark sky outside the window, and asked him, “How long was I asleep?” “Thirty-two hours.” Spencer glanced at the grey diamond watch on his wrist. I shifted my body, and everything ached. A certain place felt like a scorching, piercing pain. Still, I bit back the pain and sat up, leaning against the headboard: “Thank you. Every time something goes wrong, I end up troubling you.” “Julian pays, I perform.” Spencer didn’t look up, methodically organizing his medical kit. But then, without warning, his movements faltered, instruments clinking together. He sprang to the bedside, his perfectly chiseled face inches from mine, the corners of his eyes flushed with raw emotion: “Kian, trust me. I *can* help you!” I stared at him, forcing a bitter smile and shaking my head. This was the second time I’d rejected his offer of help. Spencer was Julian’s private physician. Whenever I felt unwell and a few pills weren’t enough, he was the one who handled it. Two years ago, when my knee was shattered, Julian called him to treat me. That was the first time I’d seen the usually cool and composed Spencer lose his composure. He picked me up, growling, “He needs to go to the hospital! Otherwise, he’ll lose this leg!” Unfortunately, Julian merely chuckled dismissively: “Good. Leo had his leg broken for me, and was left unable to walk. His stand-in ought to be more dedicated.” I leaned my head against Spencer’s chest, feeling his frantic heartbeat. He looked down at me, his lips trembling. Then, ignoring Julian’s protests, he took me to his hospital. After the surgery, when the anesthesia wore off, I was drenched in cold sweat from the pain. Spencer pushed his glasses up, seemingly making a decision: “Kian, I can find a way to deal with your father’s debt.” I looked at this usually silent, aloof man, a little surprised. He was Julian’s friend, yet he wanted to save me from this hell. But this hell was something I had to endure. I needed to stay by Julian’s side as Leo’s substitute, so that Julian would go easy and not pursue the massive debt my dad owed him. Otherwise, my dad wouldn’t survive. I stopped reminiscing, avoiding Spencer’s earnest gaze: “Dr. Hayes, I’m fine now. You can go.” I could practically hear his jaw grinding in frustration. But he said no more, stood up, grabbed his medical kit, and left. He ran into Julian outside the door. The door was ajar, and their conversation was perfectly clear. “Is Kian alright?” Julian asked, his tone dismissive. Spencer’s emotions were now perfectly concealed: “The fever’s gone down. But the tearing down there will need some time to heal.” He paused, then added, “Julian, control yourself.” Julian scoffed: “Isn’t that what you’re here for? He won’t die.” Then he pushed the door open and walked in. I looked away, not wanting to see him. Julian sat on the edge of the bed and placed the takeout he was carrying on the nightstand: “You’re hungry, right? Eat something.” It wasn’t concern, it was a command. I looked at the takeout. It was heavily spiced tripe stew. “You love it, don’t you? Don’t leave any.” Julian opened the box, pulled out a pair of disposable gloves, and held it out to me. “I’m not hungry.” Julian didn’t move. His cold, menacing eyes fixed on me, unblinking. Resigned, I put on the gloves and took the container. I took a bite. It was insanely spicy. Julian pulled out his phone and opened a surveillance feed. It showed Spencer and me talking just moments ago. “Kian, I know your every move. Don’t try to pull any stunts. It’s useless.” A chill snaked up my spine, and I instinctively looked around. I had no idea where the cameras were hidden. I lowered my head and continued to gnaw on the tripe. It was so spicy. That’s why, I told myself, I was crying.

This torment continued for over a month. By the time Julian took me golfing again, I’d lost a ton of weight. I actually looked like a frail, delicate little thing. Julian’s friends formed their own clique, laughing amongst themselves, their occasional glances at me filled with unconcealed mockery and disdain. I stood beside them, holding Julian’s golf club, feeling like nothing more than the golf ball being hit back and forth. One of them, Brett, casually tucked his left hand into his pocket, tossed a ball with his right, then lifted his hand and pointed at me, a smirk playing on his lips. “Kian, my man, fetch the ball, will you?” The surrounding chatter instantly died, and all eyes turned to me. A perverse pleasure, the thrill of watching a spectacle, silently swelled between them. I didn’t move. Looking at their young faces, all brimming with superiority, I thought vaguely, *What would the old Kian have done?* He would have charged at them, kicked each one until they begged for mercy. No, back then, in Rosewood, no one would have dared to mock me like this. My dad, my brother—they were my solid, broad umbrella, shielding me from all the crap life could throw at me. My world was smooth sailing, full of flattery, and “Kian, my man” was a byword for reckless glory. But now, that umbrella had been cruelly shattered, and raging storms swept over me. Even those lowlifes who wouldn’t have dared to approach me before now found amusement in tormenting me. “Go fetch it, or I’ll tell Julian. I hear Mr. Thorne has quite the ways of dealing with people.” Brett’s eyes lingered on me in an unreadable way, then drifted to the little white dot on the distant grass. “One moment.” I said, my voice so calm it even surprised me. I placed Julian’s club back in the bag, then, enduring the excruciating pain in my left knee, walked step by painful step towards that humiliatingly white ball. Julian was currently in the VIP lounge, handling an urgent business call. Before that, he’d already made me his caddy, fetching balls for him over a dozen times. He wouldn’t let me use a cane. He just wanted to torment my useless leg. It was effective. I was limping especially badly now. I’d only taken a few steps, but I was already sweating from the pain. But when I finally retrieved the ball, and could already see Brett’s magnified smirk. He threw another one. Even further. Brett called out, mimicking a pleading tone: “Kian, please—!” I gripped the ball tightly in my hand, fighting the urge to throw it at his arrogant face. I turned to fetch the next ball. Behind me, a wave of laughter erupted—their triumphant celebration of my humiliation. By the time I returned the second time, my left leg could barely lift. As I neared Brett, my foot caught on the turf, and I went down on my knees. The retrieved ball slipped from my grasp and rolled away. Julian, who had just returned, stepped on it, then another, neatly stopping all the scattered balls. Brett suppressed a laugh: “Mr. Thorne, look at Kian here, bowing so deeply on an ordinary day.” Julian ignored him, walking over and extending a hand to me. I looked up at his emotionless face, unsure whether to take his hand. “Do you like kneeling?” Julian’s voice was sharp. So I took his well-defined hand. Julian pulled me up, didn’t let go, and led me slowly past them. Then he commanded: “Hand me the club.” As soon as the club was in his hand, I saw a flash of silver. “Ah—!” Brett clutched his knee, screaming as he crumpled to the ground, howling in agony, “Ah—! Ah—!” Julian casually tossed the golf club, its head dented, and stepped on the writhing Brett. “Mr. Thorne!” Someone tried to interject. Julian’s fierce gaze swept over them, and no one dared to speak again. “Even if Kian is just a plaything, he’s *my* plaything. You think you’re worthy of humiliating him?!” “Mr. Th-Thorne, I’m sorry—!” Brett sobbed, snot and tears streaming. “Crawl over and apologize.” Brett crawled, a pathetic snake, to my feet: “Kian, I’m so sorry, I’ll never dare to do it again, please forgive me…” The others looked at me with a newfound hint of fear. But it only made me feel like nothing more than Julian’s pet. It was pathetic. I took a step back: “Don’t do this. Get up.” “Whack—!” Julian stepped forward and slapped me across the face. My ears rang for a long time. Eventually, the stinging heat faded. Julian’s voice was sharp: “His apology to you is a courtesy *I’m* extending. You will accept it.” That moment of bittersweet warmth I’d felt when he extended his hand to me had been brutally distorted by that slap. It morphed into profound self-loathing. God, I was so utterly pathetic, falling for a monster like Julian.

Julian got sick. In five years, I’d barely heard him cough more than a few times. But now, he was shivering violently, curled up on the large bed in the villa’s medical room, all his sharp, cold edges melted away, leaving him a vulnerable, pitiable animal. I sat by the bed, examining his flushed, sickly face. On a sudden impulse, I cautiously reached out, tracing the curve of his brow. The heat radiating from his body traveled through my fingertips, burning a path to my heart, making me flinch. A soft cough came from the doorway. I snapped my hand back, turning to see Spencer standing there with his medical kit, his gaze heavy. “Dr. Hayes.” Spencer nodded, opened the closet, took out a lab coat specially kept for him, changed into it, sanitized himself, and then examined Julian. I automatically moved to the corner massage sofa, out of the way. After Spencer finished his procedures, he said calmly, “He’s fine. Just overworked.” “His health has always been excellent, and he’s always been busy. Before…” “You’re worried about him?” Spencer cut me off, tilting his head. He’d caught me off guard. I opened my mouth but no words came out, so I just nodded. “I give him regular check-ups, and I’m very familiar with his physical condition. The human body has its limits. Even the strongest people have their breaking point and need to stop and rest. The high fever is just his body’s cry for help. A good night’s sleep and a few days of rest will fix him.” “Alright, thank you.” Spencer set up an IV for Julian. Julian stirred, turning twice impatiently: “Kian.” His delirious murmur was so soft, I almost couldn’t believe I’d heard my own name. Disbelieving, yet hopeful, I walked over and leaned closer. “Kian, I’m cold.” As if under a spell, I immediately and gently tucked the blanket more tightly around him. The next second, Spencer yanked me violently aside, his clear, sharp eyes clouded with fury: “Kian, if I wasn’t here, would you have wrapped your arms around him to warm him up?” My hidden thoughts exposed, I awkwardly looked away. “Kian, you’re sick.” Spencer’s voice was heavy with pain, as if I were already beyond saving. “I think you need to see a therapist. I have a friend who’s an expert in this field, I’ll SnapChat you his contact.” Spencer picked up his phone, his fingers trembling as they scrolled across the screen, not at all like hands that could wield a scalpel. “Dr. Hayes, I’m fine.” Spencer seemed not to hear. My phone vibrated. I opened it to find the therapist’s contact he’d sent. “Stockholm Syndrome can be completely reversed with timely intervention.” “Dr. Hayes, I told you, I’m fine. I don’t need a therapist.” I fled, trying to get out. Spencer followed closely, cornering me at the top of the stairs. “Kian, you can’t love Julian.” When such a thought was so bluntly exposed, I suddenly lost all strength to deny or hide it. I slumped against the wall, a lost cause, just letting myself rot: “But I am a rotten person who doesn’t know what’s good for him. Julian’s good-looking, and now he’s a big shot in Rosewood. Besides, he’s practically ruined me. Why can’t I love him?” Spencer took off his glasses, looking pained, and pressed his fingers to his temples. “Dr. Hayes, don’t bother with me. Just let me rot.” With that, I brushed past Spencer’s shoulder, ready to go downstairs. “Kian, have you never once doubted your brother’s death?”

Julian would wake up, see the villa’s security footage, and realize Spencer and I had left together. He’d probably go insane. And then he’d make me suffer terribly again. But I didn’t care anymore. Spencer had hit my weak spot, and I had no choice but to get into his Porsche. “Talk. What do you know?” I asked from the passenger seat, letting Spencer drive two blocks before pulling over into the shade of some trees. My jaw was clenched, my heart churning like it was in a frying pan. Spencer was blunt: “Julian used several accounts, making small, frequent transfers to the driver, Mark, over three years, totaling two million. It was to get him to cause the car accident and kill Leo. That two million was just enough for Mark to get his daughter the highest-end cochlear implant and ensure his wife and daughter could live a stable life afterward.” “He killed someone for two million?” My voice was warped. Spencer shook his head with a bitter smile: “Kian, two million might not even buy you a watch, but for Mark, it was his daughter’s chance at a normal life, their only hope of changing their future.” “I don’t give a damn about the disparities in the world right now. Just tell me why Julian killed my brother.” Leo loved Julian so much. Loved him enough to willingly betray my dad, to give Julian a clear advantage in the bidding for that huge piece of land on the east side of town. Loved him enough to unhesitatingly block an attack from an enemy, breaking his leg for Julian. Loved him enough to learn carving, his hands covered in calluses, just to carve Julian a jade figurine. Loved him enough to make a life-sized doll of Julian and cuddle it every night. Julian would just smile at him, and Leo would give away a business deal. Julian would put an arm around his shoulder, and Leo would gleefully hand over the most valuable club my dad owned. It enraged my dad so much that he snapped the old wooden paddle he kept for discipline, and Leo’s back and butt were a bloody, pulpy mess. His high IQ, once so evident as a top student, seemed to vanish. He seemed to use up all the stupidity he’d never committed in twenty-some years, all on Julian. Like an idiot, he would have ripped out his own heart and offered it to Julian, and even if Julian trampled all over it, Leo would have been happy. And now Julian wanted to kill him? Spencer sighed: “Because of you.” I felt like I suddenly couldn’t understand English, asking blankly, “Because of me?” “Eight years ago, you graduated college and held your graduation art exhibit in the city. Julian was with a friend, strolling through, and he saw you.” I tried to recall that distant scene. I was an art slacker, really. My graduation exhibit was purely because my dad and Leo wanted to promote me, so I wouldn’t end up unable to sell a single painting. Most of the people who came were invited to show support; they might not have understood art, but they understood social etiquette, lavishly praising my haphazard scribbles as if I was about to become the American Picasso. But I replayed my memories again and again, still finding no trace of Julian. I could only look helplessly at Spencer, waiting for him to wipe away the dust of memory and expose the initial entanglement between Julian and me. “Julian fell in love with you.” Just a few words, yet they hit me like a sledgehammer. They cracked open details I’d never noticed before. During the time Leo was pursuing Julian, his aesthetic suddenly changed. In college, he’d meticulously worn student uniforms; after graduation, he’d worn perfectly tailored suits, always dignified and elegant. But then, he started rummaging through my closet, saying he wanted to learn trendy styles. I scoffed, telling him he couldn’t pull off the artistic vibe. Leo just smiled and shook his head, looking resigned: “Julian likes it. He wants me to try something new.” Damn him! Leo, trying so hard, was he just playing *my* substitute? How could Julian be so twisted?! It took me a long moment to find my voice, my heart sinking, yet I still forced myself to rail: “What are you talking about?! Spencer, I don’t believe any of this! Love me? Murder? I don’t believe it!”

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