Category: English

1 It all started with those four words Cormac sent right before he vanished into the deep: “I want to go home.” For five years, Elena took over his mantle as a deep-sea salvage expert, scouring those same dark waters for any trace of him. She searched until her own luck ran out. As her husband and the executor of her estate, the lawyer sat me down after the accident. “Mrs. Rhodes revised her will fourteen times,” he said, his voice as dry as the parchment in his hands. “The final version has one specific directive.” He looked at me with a mix of pity and professional detachment. “She left her entire estate to you, Brooks. But she requested—no, she mandated—that she be buried in the same plot as Cormac Prescott.” At the funeral, the air was thick with the scent of lilies and hushed scandals. People whispered as they passed the two caskets. “What a tragedy,” a woman murmured. “They were so perfectly matched. Soulmates, really.” Elena’s parents didn’t even try to hide their resentment. Her mother’s face was a mask of grief and fury as she hissed at me, “If it weren’t for you and that ridiculous engagement, they would have been together years ago. None of this would have happened.” I stared at the twin headstones. I thought about those fourteen revisions. The only thing she never changed was the requirement to be buried with him. In the final version, she had mentioned me exactly once—a footnote at the very beginning. I realized then that no matter how hard I ran to catch up to them, I was never written into their ending. I was just the static between their frequencies. After the service, my car hydroplaned on the rain-slicked highway. As the world spun into a blur of metal and glass, I didn’t feel afraid. I felt a strange, hollow sense of relief. Then, I woke up. The air was salty, humid, and smelled of expensive sunblock. I was standing on a pier. Walking a few paces ahead of me were Elena and Cormac. I took a long, shaky breath. This was the island trip—the one right before Cormac’s “disappearance” in my previous life. Cormac noticed I’d slowed down. He turned back, waving a hand with that effortless, boyish charm that always made me feel small. “Hey, Brooks! Move it or lose it!” Elena stood beside him. She was wearing the cerulean beach dress I’d picked out for her, but standing next to Cormac in his blue-and-white linen shirt, they looked like a curated set. A matching pair. I silently zipped up my windbreaker, hiding the pale yellow shirt I wore underneath—a color that felt suddenly, jarringly out of place. “Come on,” Cormac teased, his voice full of that playful energy Elena loved. “The zoo closes at five, and I want to see the lions!” Elena gave him a fond, indulgent smile. When she looked at me, her expression shifted into a silent, impatient urge to keep up. She had completely forgotten. This trip was supposed to be our getaway—the one we’d talked about for a year. I’d spent months pulling double shifts to clear a week of vacation, booked the flights the second they went on sale, and fought for the reservation at the resort. But six hours into the trip, Cormac had “accidentally” shown up at the same hotel. Our romantic getaway had instantly become a trio. When I finally caught up to them, Elena reached out and ruffled my hair, a gesture that felt more like she was petting a golden retriever than greeting a fiancé. “You’re so lethargic today. What’s up?” “Nothing,” I said, my voice flat. “Just the sun.” She didn’t push. She immediately turned back to Cormac to discuss the itinerary. They both loved “optimized” living—every vacation was a series of tactical strikes on tourist attractions. Listening to them debate the best route to the exhibit, I suddenly spoke up. “I’m going back to the hotel.” Elena didn’t even look up from the map. “Brooks, don’t mess with the schedule. We’ve only got three hours.” She caught herself and blinked, finally looking at me. I usually followed her lead without question. I was the “easygoing” one, the one who didn’t mind if my plans were overwritten by Cormac’s “better” ideas. But the weight of a lifetime of being second-best was pressing down on my chest. I turned to walk away. Elena grabbed my wrist, her grip firm. “What is wrong with you today? We agreed yesterday that Cormac’s plan was better. It’s more efficient.” My arm felt trapped in her hold. A familiar sense of powerlessness washed over me. In Elena’s world, Cormac’s way was the gold standard. Whether it was choosing a career path, buying groceries, or planning a wedding, “Cormac suggested” was the final word. Elena’s tone sharpened as she kept prodding me for an explanation. I didn’t want to argue. I just pulled off my sun-shirt. “I have a UV allergy,” I said. “Can I go now?” My arms and neck, which I’d neglected to coat in sunblock while worrying about their luggage, were covered in angry, raised red welts. Elena’s grip loosened instantly. Cormac let out a dramatic gasp. “Man, I didn’t know it was that bad! Why didn’t you say something?” I forced a thin smile. In my last life, I hadn’t been allergic. But after two hours of chasing Cormac’s “optimized” walking tour in the midday heat, my body was literally rejecting this life. “We came all this way,” Cormac said, his voice dropping into a dejected pout. “This sucks.” Elena frowned, her eyes darting between Cormac’s disappointment and my ruined skin. Suddenly, she pulled me toward the taxi stand. “Cormac, go to the zoo. I’ll take him back to the room and get him settled.” I was stunned. “I can take a cab by myself, Elena.” She gave a soft, dismissive laugh. “Don’t be silly. I’d worry too much.” As we drove away, leaving Cormac standing on the curb, a surreal feeling settled over me. For the first time in my memory, I wasn’t the one being left behind. Back at the hotel, Elena went out to find a pharmacy. I followed her to the door, wanting to offer a genuine thank you for choosing me for once. But through the cracked door, I heard her on the phone. Her voice was that low, intimate honey-tone she usually reserved for me in our early days. “Don’t worry about him, Cor. Just keep going. You’ve been looking forward to the big cat exhibit for weeks. Don’t let this ruin your mood.” She turned and saw me. She didn’t look guilty, just slightly surprised. “Why aren’t you resting?” I looked down at my feet, a bitter, self-deprecating laugh bubbling up in my throat. Why did I think anything had changed? “Go find Cormac,” I said. “I’m fine now.” She tightened her grip on the bag of ointment she’d just bought. “Brooks, don’t start. I’m your fiancée. I’m here, aren’t I?” “I’m serious, Elena. Go.” She studied me for a long beat, searching for the usual flash of hurt or anger. Finding none, she set the medicine on the nightstand. “Okay. Make sure you use the cream.” I nodded. “I’ll bring you back some fresh coconut water,” she added, her voice lighter now that the obligation was lifted. That night, she didn’t come back to the room. I turned on the local cable channel and saw them. It was a “Couple’s Challenge” hosted by the island’s tourism board at the beach pier. They were tearing through the obstacles with terrifying synchronicity. At the final stage, the host’s voice boomed over the speakers: “And for the grand prize, our leaders just need to share a three-minute kiss!” I felt my heart contract. On the screen, Elena and Cormac shared a look. It was electric. I couldn’t tell who moved first, but in a heartbeat, they were locked together. It wasn’t a staged kiss for a prize. It was desperate, hungry, and lingering. The crowd went wild. The host was gushing, “This pair is incredible! They look like they’re enjoying the process more than the prize!” I snapped the TV off. The black screen reflected my pale, ghostly face. When they finally returned, they saw the TV was warm. Cormac looked frantic, his words tripping over each other. “Brooks, man, that show… it was so physical. We knew you weren’t up for it with the rash, so we didn’t want to make you feel bad by asking.” Elena just nodded, her face calm. “You wouldn’t have enjoyed it anyway. You don’t really get the competitive side of things.” She’d used that line on me a thousand times. You wouldn’t get it. She used it to explain why I wasn’t invited to their late-night “brainstorming” sessions, why she only went skydiving with him, why their inside jokes felt like a wall I couldn’t climb. “Whatever you say,” I replied quietly. Elena sighed and pulled a small shell bracelet from her pocket. “Stop being moody. We did the whole thing just to get you this. I know you like the local crafts.” Cormac beamed. “Yeah! We both thought it was totally your style.” The shells were beautiful, sure. But it was a participation trophy. The actual grand prize for that contest was a five-course candlelight dinner and a night in the honeymoon suite. They didn’t mention that. Elena ran her fingers through my hair, leaning in close. “I just want you to be happy, Brooks. To get everything you want.” Her voice was so sincere, so reminiscent of the woman I’d fallen in love with three years ago. Back then, she didn’t think I was “simple.” Back then, she loved my slow pace. On her twenty-fifth birthday, she’d given me a hand-polished pearl bracelet she’d made herself. She’d made a wish: To give Brooks a hundred more gifts. But then she started asking Cormac what I liked. Slowly, every gift for me came with a “thank you” gift for Cormac. Then the gifts were the same. Then, eventually, the gifts stopped coming to me at all. Until our wedding day in the last life. Cormac had promised me a “wedding gift” I’d never forget. I waited for it all morning, only to find out the gift was his “disappearance”—a deep-sea dive he took because he “couldn’t bear” to see us wed. From that day on, Elena blamed me for his death. I never received another gift from her. But every year on Cormac’s birthday, she’d bring a beautifully wrapped package to his cenotaph. Now, as she whispered in my ear, asking what else I wanted, I reached down and unclasped the shell bracelet. “I want to break up,” I said. The room went tomb-quiet. Cormac was the first to find his voice, his tone trembling. “Are you mad at me, Brooks? It was just a game. We didn’t mean anything by the kiss.” I didn’t look at him. Elena opened her mouth to speak, but Cormac suddenly burst into tears and ran out of the room. She hesitated for a fraction of a second, her eyes darting toward me, and then she bolted after him. I followed them at a distance, my footsteps silent on the carpeted hall. I found them on the balcony. Elena was holding him, his face buried in her neck, completely oblivious to the fact that I was standing right there. “It’s my fault,” Cormac sobbed. “I shouldn’t have pushed her to enter. Brooks saw… he knows. He’ll never forgive us.” Elena stroked his back, her voice a soothing murmur. “It’s okay. He’s just sensitive. Give him a few days, I’ll talk him around.” “But what about the wedding? What if he leaves?” Elena paused. “I’m going to marry him, Cormac. But you’re the one I belong to. He’s… he’s steady. He’s simple. He’s not going anywhere. He doesn’t have the heart to leave us.” I felt my breath hitch. Suddenly, a memory from the first timeline clicked into place—a piece of a puzzle I’d been too blind to see. At our wedding rehearsal dinner in the previous life, everyone had been drinking heavily. Elena had walked Cormac to his car while the rest of the wedding party trailed behind. I’d been standing in the shadows when I heard one of her bridesmaids laugh. “I can’t believe she’s actually going through with it. Brooks is such a downgrade from Cormac. He’s so… bland.” Another friend had chimed in, “Well, you marry the boring ones for stability, right? He’s a ‘safe harbor.’ Besides, the guy is so oblivious, she could do anything and he’d just smile and say thank you.” I had stood there, frozen. I’d seen Elena turn around, her face a mask of shock, and she’d actually slapped the girl. But the damage was done. I spent the next five years trying to be less “bland.” I changed my clothes, my hobbies, my hair. I tried to mirror Cormac. The first time Elena saw the “new” me, she had frozen. She’d smiled, but it was a brittle, pained thing. “You look… different. It’s good to try new styles, I guess.” I’d ignored the itching of the expensive wool suits and the heavy watches, thinking I was winning. But after Cormac died, she’d snapped. She’d thrown a heavy glass ashtray at my head, screaming, “Do you think you can replace him? Do you have any idea how pathetic you look trying to mimic a dead man?” The scar on my hairline still throbbed in phantom pain. Everyone had hated me. Elena’s parents blamed me for their “surrogate son’s” death. My own parents thought I was the interloper who broke up a perfect pair. Elena’s friends treated me like a ghost at my own table. And yet, Cormac had chosen to dive. Elena had chosen to propose to me. I was just the tool they used to punish each other. I took a deep breath and pulled out my phone. I called my father. “Dad,” I said, “I’m calling off the wedding.” My father didn’t ask if I was okay. He barked, “Do you have any idea how that makes Cormac look? People will think he’s a homewrecker! Think about the family’s reputation!” I was stunned. “What about my happiness, Dad?” “You’ve always been the resilient one, Brooks. You’ll get over it in a week. Cormac is sensitive. He can’t handle this kind of drama.” I hung up. Everyone assumed I didn’t care because I didn’t scream. But I remembered everything. I remembered being the “easy” child who was ignored while Cormac (our neighbor and my parents’ favorite) was celebrated. I remembered the look of hollow longing on Elena’s face as we said our vows. I walked to the ferry terminal and bought a ticket off the island. On the way, I called a realtor. I wanted to sell the house—the one we’d bought together for our future. But since the deed hadn’t been finalized, I needed to file for a title search. I spent hours at the County Clerk’s office. When I finally got to the window and handed over my paperwork, the clerk frowned. “I’m sorry, Mr. Rhodes. You don’t have the standing to request this.” I blinked. “I don’t understand. I paid half the down payment.” The clerk shook her head and pushed the papers back. “The property is not registered in your name, sir.” I stepped out of line, my mind a white void. I called a friend in real estate to dig deeper. While I waited, Elena’s texts started flooding in. I ignored them. Finally, the call came. “Brooks… the house. It’s not in your name. Or Elena’s.” My heart plummeted. “Then whose is it?”

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My parents just opened a luxury hot spring resort upstate, and they gave me the very first black membership card. I didn’t have time to use it, so when it went missing from my dorm room a week ago, I didn’t think much of it. I figured it had just slipped behind my desk. But tonight, my phone buzzed. It was my dad. “Sophie, sweetie,” he said, sounding confused. “Did you forget that your card only provides a discount? It isn’t a pre-paid debit card.” I frowned, leaning back against my headboard. “I know that, Dad. Why?” “Well, there’s a girl here. She says she’s your roommate. It’s her birthday, and she’s currently treating your entire class to a VIP spa night on your ‘tab.’ She thinks the card covers the balance.” I felt a cold, sharp laugh bubble up in my chest. “I didn’t forget, Dad. And since this ‘business’ just walked through your front door, you and Mom should definitely take the order. Just… make sure she signs for everything.” 1 After I hung up, the sheer audacity of it hit me. My other two roommates, Riley and Tessa, were sitting across from me, scrolling through their laptops. The fourth bed in our suite belonged to Brooke Higgins. She was the only one missing—she’d spent the last three hours preening in front of the vanity before vanishing in a cloud of expensive-smelling perfume. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who stole the card. I remembered asking them about it last week. I’d mentioned it casually, just wondering if anyone had seen the sleek black card. Riley and Tessa had barely looked up, both giving me a genuine “no.” But Brooke? Brooke had snapped. “What is that supposed to mean?” she’d demanded, her voice rising an octave. “Are you accusing us of being thieves now?” “I was just asking, Brooke. It’s a new resort—” “It’s a membership to some tacky spa, Sophie! Who couldn’t afford that? You have such a dark, suspicious mind. It’s honestly pathetic.” I had been stunned into silence by her venom. “I wasn’t saying—” “It’s your property,” she’d hissed, cutting me off. “It’s not our job to babysit your stuff. Honestly, some people just love to show off. You act like you’re some billionaire heiress, but the second you lose one little card, you have a total meltdown. Was that card the result of months of your ‘savings’ just so you could flex on us?” I hadn’t bothered to argue. Brooke had been a nightmare since move-in day. She walked in with a designer tote that was a blatant knockoff of the one I actually owned, and when she realized mine was the real deal, she’d made me her primary target. She lived for the “fake it ’til you make it” lifestyle, constantly dropping names of socialites she didn’t know and brands her parents definitely couldn’t afford. I hadn’t realized she was stupid enough to steal a card she didn’t even understand. She thought it was a limitless gift card. The irony was delicious. Riley looked up from her bed, catching the look on my face. “What was that about? I heard your dad mention a roommate. Was it Brooke?” Brooke had spent the last semester branding herself as the “Queen Bee” of our year, looking down on Riley and Tessa because they didn’t wear labels. Naturally, they loathed her. “Apparently, Brooke is throwing a birthday bash at my parents’ resort,” I said, a slow smile spreading across my face. “And she invited the whole class… except us.” The two of them exchanged a look of pure, unadulterated interest. “Is there a disaster brewing?” Tessa asked, closing her laptop. “And can we go watch it?” “Oh, it’s a category five hurricane,” I replied, grabbing my leather jacket. “You guys want to see Brooke Higgins finally get her bill?” They were on their feet before I even finished the sentence. “Absolutely.” 2 We took an Uber to the Serene Springs Resort. The place was stunning—steam rising from the outdoor pools under the moonlight, the lobby smelling of eucalyptus and cedar. As we walked in, we saw them. A crowd of about thirty students from our psychology lecture were spilling out of the private locker rooms in white plush robes, laughing and shouting. It was a scene straight out of a high-end travel magazine. Brooke was right in the center, glowing with the reflected adoration of people who thought she was footing the bill. Then, she saw me. Her entire body went rigid. For a split second, sheer panic flashed in her eyes, and she instinctively ducked her head, trying to hide behind a tall guy in her circle. Before she could vanish, her best friend Lexi stepped forward. Lexi was the kind of person who lived for Brooke’s crumbs. She glared at us, her lip curling. “What are you three doing here? Brooke didn’t invite the ‘poverty squad’ to her party.” “Lexi, give it a rest,” Riley groaned. “No, I mean it,” Lexi snapped, looking at the other students to gain support. “You guys have spent the whole semester freezing Brooke out because you’re jealous of her family’s money. It’s disgusting that you’d show up now to try and leach off her birthday.” Brooke, seeing that the crowd was on her side, regained her composure. She stepped forward, putting on a weary, “bigger person” expression. “It’s fine, Lexi,” Brooke sighed. “Some people just don’t have any dignity. Sophie, I’ve literally bought out the services for the night. You should probably leave before security makes it awkward.” A few guys in the back started booing us. “Yeah, get out of here! Stop ruining the vibe!” I ignored them and walked straight to the front desk. The receptionist, a woman named Elena who had known me since I was ten, started to smile, but I gave her a tiny, barely perceptible shake of my head. “Have they booked out the entire resort?” I asked loudly. “No,” Elena replied, following my lead perfectly. “This young lady has simply stated that she will be personally responsible for the expenses of all her guests.” I turned back to Brooke. “Since the place isn’t ‘bought out,’ we’re staying. We’d like to book three rooms for the night. I don’t have my card on me, but I can give you the number—” “I’ll book it!” Brooke shouted, her voice shrill. “I’m booking the whole thing! Now! I want the resort closed to the public for the rest of the night. No one else comes in!” She was terrified I was about to recite the membership number she had in her pocket. Elena looked at me. I nodded, almost invisibly. “Of course, Miss,” Elena said to Brooke. “To close the resort to other guests on such short notice, there is a mandatory ‘Exclusive Buyout’ fee of fifteen thousand dollars. Are you sure?” “Whatever,” Brooke waved her hand dismissively, acting like she was bored. “Just put it on the card I gave you.” She thought she was playing with house money. She thought she was winning. The crowd went wild. “Brooke, you’re a legend!” someone yelled. Lexi turned to me, her face smug. “Hear that? You’re not welcome. Go find a Motel 6.” “The spa is supposed to be amazing,” another girl whispered, purposely loud enough for me to hear. “I heard they have an open bar for the VIPs and a seafood buffet. I can’t wait.” I looked at Brooke one last time. Despite everything, a small part of me felt a flicker of pity. I decided to give her one—and only one—chance to save herself. “Brooke, are you sure about this? With thirty people, plus the buyout fee, plus the premium liquor you’re ordering… you’re looking at a bill north of fifty thousand dollars. If you can’t pay that, it’s not just a social gaffe. It’s a felony. Defrauding an innkeeper is a serious charge.” The color drained from Brooke’s face for a heartbeat, but the crowd was already cheering her name. The ego won. 3 “Fifty thousand?” Brooke laughed, though it sounded a bit thin. “Sophie, just because that sounds like a fortune to your family doesn’t mean it’s a problem for mine. My parents spend that on a weekend in Aspen. Stop projecting your broke-girl anxiety on me.” “Fine,” I said, putting my hands up. “Have a great night.” I turned and led Riley and Tessa out the front door. We didn’t go far. I led them around the side of the building to the private residence wing—the part of the resort my parents kept for family. It had its own heated pool and a private entrance. “Is she actually going to be able to pay?” Riley asked as we settled into the plush velvet sofas in the suite. “I saw her screaming at her mom on the phone last week over a two-hundred-dollar overdraft fee.” “Not a chance,” I said, sipping a sparkling water. “Her bags are fake, her ‘lifestyle’ is a lie, and tomorrow morning, the bill is coming due.” We spent the night in luxury. We soaked in the private mineral bath, ordered room service steak, and watched movies on a screen the size of a garage door. It was the most peaceful sleep I’d had all semester. The next morning, around 11:00 AM, Elena sent me a text: They’re at the front desk. It’s time. I woke the girls, and we made our way to the lobby. The “birthday party” looked significantly less glamorous in the harsh light of morning. They were all hungover, clutching their bags, looking exhausted but satisfied. Brooke was standing at the center, looking like she was ready to make a grand exit. “Oh look,” Lexi sneered as she saw us. “The strays are back. Did you sleep in the Uber?” “Actually, we slept great,” Tessa chimed in, grinning. “I bet,” Brooke said, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. “Listen, I’m feeling generous. If you’re hungry, I can probably get the kitchen to bring out some leftovers for you. On me.” “Dream on, Brooke,” Riley said. “We’re just here to see you off.” Brooke rolled her eyes and turned to the desk. She pulled my black membership card out of her designer knockoff bag and slid it across the marble counter. “We’re done here. Charge it to the card.” 4 Elena took the card, her face a mask of professional neutrality. She began typing on her computer. “Alright,” Elena said, her voice projecting across the lobby. “We have thirty-one guests for the ‘Ultra-VIP’ overnight package at $1,200 per person. That includes the spa treatments and the buffet. That’s $37,200. Plus the $15,000 buyout fee for the resort closure. And then, we have the additional charges for the premium bar…” “Wait,” Brooke interrupted, her brow furrowing. “The alcohol was supposed to be included.” “On-site consumption of house wine and well drinks is included, yes,” Elena explained patiently. “However, your guests requested thirty-four bottles of vintage Cristal and several bottles of aged Macallan from our private cellar to take back to their rooms. As those were removed from the bar, they are charged at retail value. That adds another $28,000 to your total.” The lobby went dead silent. Several students shifted uncomfortably, clutching their backpacks a little tighter. It was obvious they had stuffed their bags with expensive liquor, thinking it was free for the taking. Brooke looked like she’d been slapped. “I… I didn’t know they took bottles.” “Well, we did!” one guy shouted from the back. “You said it was an open bar, Brooke! We wanted to keep the party going.” Brooke tried to swallow, but her throat looked dry. She looked at the expectant faces of the classmates she’d been trying to impress. She couldn’t back down now. “Whatever,” she stammered. “It’s fine. Just… just scan the card.” “The card has already been processed for the discount, Miss,” Elena said. “Your total, after the 10% elite member discount, comes to $72,180.” Brooke nodded quickly, reaching out to take the card back. “Great. We’re good then.” She turned to leave, but Elena didn’t let go of the card. “I’m sorry, Miss, but you still need to pay.” Brooke froze. “What are you talking about? I gave you the card.” “This is a Membership Status Card,” Elena said, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “It provides a discount and grants access to certain areas, but it is not a payment method. It doesn’t hold a cash balance.”

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I was the “pretty prop” of the team—the useless ornamental piece in a high-stakes, lethal simulation. To survive, I spent every waking second desperate to please my teammates. I ate the smallest rations, did the grunt work no one else wanted, and allowed myself to be used as live bait whenever the situation turned south. But they never liked me. Their hearts were reserved for the team’s darling, Lulu. On the ninety-ninth time they abandoned me to face certain death while they rushed to protect her, something inside me finally snapped. The weight of the world felt too heavy, and I was simply… done. I stepped off the edge of the abyss, plummeting into the dark. I didn’t want a miracle; I just wanted the silence of the end. But a monster from the deep caught me. “Are you… are you the bride… the one they sent for me…?” 1 Left behind. Again. I dragged my battered body toward the edge of the ravine, my breath hitching in my chest with every staggered step. It wasn’t just a cliff; it was a jagged, bottomless scar in the earth, choked with a thick, swirling mist that echoed with the guttural cries of things that shouldn’t exist. I didn’t care about the noises anymore. I didn’t care about the shadows. I only cared about the edge. “Warning: Toxicity levels have exceeded 87%. Vitality is dropping. Estimated time of survival: Seven days.” The System’s cold, mechanical voice pulsed inside my skull. I shook my head, a dry, hollow laugh escaping my cracked lips. “I’m not making it to seven days, System,” I whispered. “I’m checking out early.” Death wasn’t a threat anymore. It was a promotion. It was the only way to finally be free of them. I lifted my foot, stepping into the void. For a heartbeat, the wind roared, lashing at my bloody face, cold and biting. And then, through the gale, I heard Jax’s voice. 2 “Do you have any idea how long we’ve been looking for you?” Jax stepped through the thicket, his face twisted in a mask of pure irritation as he hacked away the brush with his machete. “I told you—if we get separated, you stay put. Why do you always have to wander off and make things difficult?” He stopped about ten feet away, his arms crossed. “Your only job is to be the lure, and you can’t even do that without causing a headache. Come on. Get up. We’re heading back.” Habit took over for a second. I almost forced a smile, almost tried to explain that if I hadn’t “wandered off,” the pack of shadow-hounds would have torn me to ribbons while they were busy shielding Lulu. But then I realized I didn’t have to explain anything. I had spent two years playing the part of the devoted servant. To them, I was just the jealous, petty shadow of Lulu, constantly “competing” for a shred of their attention. Every time the floor gave way, I was the one they let fall. Fine. I’d fall all the way this time. “I’m not going back,” I said. I didn’t smile. I didn’t plead. My voice was as flat as the horizon. “The System says I’m dying anyway. I’m resigning from the team. I’m choosing to end it here.” 3 Jax froze, his brow furrowing in genuine confusion. He looked at me as if I were speaking a foreign language. Then, his lip curled into a familiar sneer. “God, you’re such a drama queen,” he spat, looking away in disgust. “Is this your new way of getting attention? Everyone’s dealing with the mist, Rowan. We’re all fine, but suddenly you’re ‘dying’? Do you really think we’re that stupid?” He took a step toward me, his face darkening. “Look, we forgot you for a second today. I get it. But stop throwing a tantrum. How long are you going to keep trying to compete with Lulu? It’s pathetic.” When I didn’t move, he reached out to grab my arm, his hand like a vice. I stepped back, dancing on the very lip of the precipice. “I said I’m not going back, Jax.” His expression shifted from annoyance to pure rage. “Fine! You want to die? Go ahead! Go tell the Captain. If Gideon says you can quit, then I don’t give a damn where you rot—” I didn’t wait for him to finish. I simply leaned back. Gravity took me. The world rushed upward, the sky shrinking into a narrow ribbon of grey. Jax’s sudden, panicked scream echoed through the canyon, but I didn’t listen. I closed my eyes, the roar of the wind in my ears sounding like a lullaby. Finally. Darkness. 4 I don’t know how long I was out. When I woke, I wasn’t on cold stone. I was lying on something shifting—thick, pulsing vines that moved like a bed of snakes. Cold, slick tendrils began to coil around my ankles, slowly creeping up my legs, binding me to the earth. In the gloom ahead, a massive, twisted ancient tree loomed, its bark looking like distorted faces frozen in a scream. The sheer aura of predatory power coming from it made my heart hammer against my ribs. “Bride…” A voice, raspy and young, like someone who hadn’t spoken in centuries, drifted from the shadows. It was a low, abyssal hum that made my skin crawl. “Is it… the bride? Sent from above…?” I shivered, the realization hitting me like a physical blow. I hadn’t died. I had landed in the heart of a nightmare’s nest. “So beautiful…” the voice whispered. “I like it…” The vines suddenly jerked, dragging me across the mulch toward the massive trunk. The monster—whatever it was—nuzzled its tendrils against my cheek, humming with a terrifying, rhythmic excitement. “Pretty wife… so soft… so much better than the others… I want to eat you… I want to keep you…” 5 My eyes snapped wide. Tears, hot and uncontrollable, began to flood down my face. Two years in this hellish game, and I had been treated like garbage by the humans I called “family.” I had been mocked, ignored, and discarded. And now, at the very end, the only thing in this entire world that actually wanted me… was a monster. My chest heaved. I let out a broken, jagged sob, turning my head away in shame. “Thank you,” I choked out. “If you’re going to eat me… please, just make it fast. I’m so tired of hurting.” The massive tree seemed to flinch. The movement of the vines stopped. “No… no crying…” the voice rasped, sounding genuinely distressed. A delicate, purple flower sprouted from one of the vines, brushing against my cheek to wipe away a tear. “Don’t eat… won’t eat you… Wife… please, don’t cry…” The vines began to shift again, but this time they weren’t binding me. They were lifting me, carrying me with a strange, clumsy tenderness toward the light far above. “Sending you… back…” Before I could process what was happening, the vines thrust me upward through a hidden crevice. I stumbled onto the solid ground of the forest floor, gasping for air. I scrambled back to the edge, looking down into the mist, my heart aching with a weird, misplaced grief. But then, a whip cracked through the air, wrapping around my waist like a serpent and yanking me backward. It was the Frost-Bolt Whip. It was Gideon. 6 Gideon retracted the whip with a flick of his wrist. He didn’t look at me as I sprawled on the dirt; he just glanced at Jax. “So this is the ‘suicide’ you were screaming about?” Nearby, Rhett leaned against a tree, a mocking smirk playing on his lips. “Wow. Our little porcelain doll is actually playing the martyr now. How dramatic.” Jax was still panting, his face red with a mix of leftover fear and rising fury. He stared at me, his eyes burning with accusation. “You played me,” he growled, stepping over and hauling me up by my collar. “You knew there was a ledge down there. You knew it wasn’t a real drop! You staged the whole thing just to make me look like a fool, didn’t you? All that talk about ‘not having many days left’—you’re just desperate for us to pay attention to you again.” He squeezed my throat, my feet dangling off the ground. I clawed at his hand, gasping. “I… I didn’t… lie…” Jax let out a harsh, cold laugh. “Still acting?” Rhett sighed, checking his nails. “Put him down, Jax. Let Lulu check him. We don’t want him claiming we ‘abused’ him later.” As if on cue, Lulu stepped out from behind a tree, skipping slightly, her wide eyes full of forced innocence. 6 (cont.) “Rowan is perfectly fine!” Lulu chirped, her voice like sugar-coated poison. “I just used my ‘Aura Scan’ skill. His vitals are stable, and there isn’t a trace of toxin in his system. Jax, don’t be mad at him. It’s our fault for being so protective of me today. Rowan just felt left out, so he made up a story. He’s just scared.” Lulu closed her eyes, clasping her hands in prayer. A soft, white halo shimmered above her head. “Oh, may the Heavens forgive your lies, Rowan.” Looking at her—the picture of pure, unadulterated “goodness”—Jax’s anger seemed to evaporate into a weary sigh. He dropped me like a piece of trash. “You disgust me,” Jax muttered, turning his back on me. I curled into a ball on the dirt, clutching my chest where the hidden poison was already beginning to liquefy my insides. Despite the agony, I started to laugh. It was a small, broken sound. I looked up at Lulu, my eyes cold. “The one who needs to pray for forgiveness isn’t me, Lulu. It’s you.” 7 When we first entered this game, things weren’t like this. We were a team. Then, I awakened a passive skill: Allure. Because of my appearance, the game gave me a natural buff that made NPCs and creatures more likely to be well-disposed toward me. But in Lulu’s mouth, that skill became a weapon. The day our former Captain, Shaw, died, she stood before the team, sobbing. “Rowan’s skill… it’s not just for monsters. He can manipulate people into loving him. Captain Shaw didn’t die for the mission—he died because Rowan charmed him into throwing his life away.” In that moment, everything changed. They started looking at me with suspicion, then resentment, then hatred. Every time we faced a boss, I was the one pushed to the front to “charm” the beast while they stood back. I would burn through my mental energy, keeping the monster at bay while they swooped in for the kill and then walked away from me as if I were a plague-bearer. Lulu’s lies built a wall between us, stone by stone, until I was the villain in their story—the manipulative, “pretty” little snake. No matter how much I tried to help, the narrative was already written. 8 “Say whatever you want,” I said, trembling as I forced myself to stand. “I’m leaving the team. Where I go and how I die is none of your business anymore.” Lulu’s lip quivered, and she looked at Gideon with watery eyes. Gideon immediately stepped into my path. “What is your problem?” he asked, his voice like ice. He looked at my hand clutching my chest and scoffed. “A cheap trick. Only Jax was stupid enough to fall for it. Let me be clear: if you keep acting this out, you’d better actually die. Otherwise, this performance is going to have a very ugly ending.” I didn’t answer. I just tried to walk around him. Gideon’s hand twitched, reaching for me, but he stopped himself—as if he were afraid that touching my skin would somehow “infect” him with my supposed filth. Instead, he used his whip to bar my way. “Fine,” Gideon said, tossing a small injector of anti-toxin at my feet. “If you’re done with the drama, pick that up and get in line. You can leave the team after we finish this sector. Until then, you will fulfill your obligations as a member.” His eyes were dead. “Rowan, my patience is gone. Stop acting like a spoiled child.” 9 Once, I would have scrambled for that injector. I would have thanked him with tears in my eyes, desperate for even a crumb of his approval. But now, I just looked at the silver tube rolling in the dirt. I felt nothing but a vast, empty silence. According to the rules of The Weeping Woods, once the toxicity level hits 60%, standard injectors are useless. They might dull the pain for a minute, but the rot is already in the bone. “I don’t need it,” I said. I looked up at him, matching his coldness with a blank stare of my own. “Keep it for yourself.” Gideon froze. For a split second, I saw something flicker in his eyes—a tiny, sharp spark of confusion. Maybe even a hint of alarm. 10 He recovered instantly. “Suit yourself. We don’t have enough resources to waste on dead weight anyway.” He turned to the others. “Move out. Rhett, watch him.” “With pleasure,” Rhett drawled. He reached down, picked up the anti-toxin I had rejected, and tucked it into Lulu’s pocket. “This is better off with our Lulu anyway. She’s the one actually doing work.” Lulu looked at me with faux-concern. “But… shouldn’t he…?” “Forget him,” Rhett said, giving me a rough shove in the small of my back. “Move it, little actor.” I stumbled, nearly falling over my own feet. Behind me, I heard Rhett’s lazy chuckle. “Ha. Look at that. Still faking the limp.” I didn’t argue. I just stared at the path ahead, my heart throbbing with a dull, rhythmic ache. Suddenly, a purple petal drifted from the canopy above, brushing softly against my cheek like a ghost’s kiss. I caught it in my palm and looked back. In the distance, hidden by the fog, a massive wall of vines was blooming with vibrant, violet flowers. 11 The hours that followed were a blur of agony. Because Rhett was “babysitting” me, I couldn’t even try to end it. Every time I lagged, he’d make a comment about my “performance” or my “pathological need for attention.” He didn’t realize that I wasn’t looking for attention. I was looking for an exit. By the third day, the toxicity hit 93%. I collapsed into the mud, my lungs burning as I gasped for air that felt like liquid lead. The others barely glanced back. “Damn it, the mist is getting thicker,” Jax complained, wiping sweat from his brow. “How much further to the Heart of the Woods?” He looked at Lulu, his voice instantly softening. “You okay, Lu? Want to take five?” Lulu nodded, pouting about how tired her legs were. The team immediately called for a break. “Here,” Jax said, tossing a dry protein bar at me before hurrying back to Lulu’s side. “Oh! We have beef jerky today! And lemon drops!” Lulu cheered. She glanced over at me, a small, triumphant glint in her eyes. I leaned against a mossy trunk, the smell of food making my stomach turn. While they were busy laughing and sharing their “premium” rations, I dragged myself into the shadows and disappeared. 12 Deep in the woods, I found a black pond. The water was as still as a mirror, dark as obsidian. I took off my boots and waded in, inch by inch. As the cold water rose to my waist, I heard a sound—a boy’s clear, bright laughter. I blinked, and the world shifted. The mist evaporated, the water turned crystal clear, and the sound of birdsong filled the air. A teenage boy sat by the water’s edge, smiling at the fish. “Hello there, little ones,” he whispered. I realized with a jolt that this was a phantom memory—a lingering echo of a world that existed before the game took over. I tried to reach out to him, but the vision shattered. The sky turned black. The pond surged, turning a sickly, visceral red. Pale, severed limbs bobbed to the surface. I scrambled back, falling into the mud. A shadow coalesced behind me, wrapping its cool, dark arms around my shoulders. I heard that same raspy voice I’d heard at the bottom of the ravine. “Don’t die in the cold water,” the shadow whispered. “Die in my arms instead… Wife.” 13 The Heart of the Woods. According to the lore our team had collected, the original guardian of this forest was a sixteen-year-old boy named Silas. Legend said he had tried to stop poachers from killing the sacred deer. In their rage, they had drowned him in this very pond and dismembered his body. His left eye and lower half were thrown into the water. His upper body was buried beneath the Great Tree. Since then, the mountain had been swallowed by mist. To appease his spirit, the local villagers used to sacrifice a “bride” every year, throwing them into the ravine. But the curse never broke. 14 “Are you… the Guardian?” I asked, my voice trembling. The shadow hummed, a shower of dead leaves falling from his form. “I… forgot. I have been here so long. So lonely. Until you fell.” He buried his face in the crook of my neck. “For the first time, I want something. I want to keep you.” He squeezed me tighter. “Stay with me. Let the vines grow over us. In the spring, I will grow the most beautiful flowers around your head. In the summer, I will shade you with my leaves. In the autumn, I will bring you the sweetest berries. And in the winter… I will wrap myself around you so tight that you will never feel the cold.” I listened to him, and for the first time in years, a strange warmth filled the hollow space in my chest. “That sounds… actually quite nice,” I whispered, a genuine smile touching my lips. We were both monsters, in a way. Both discarded. If the end meant sleeping beneath a great tree, protected from the world, it wasn’t a bad way to go. “Take me now, then,” I said. Silas didn’t answer. A sudden gust of wind blew through the clearing, carrying Jax’s distant, angry shouting. The shadow dissolved into a pile of dry leaves, vanishing before the team could find me.

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1 It happened during the third round of drinks. Travis, a guy who had been two years behind me at State, suddenly stood up. The screech of his chair against the hardwood floor cut through the chatter of the reunion dinner like a serrated blade. The entire private room at the bistro went silent. He pointed a finger directly at me, his face flushed a deep, drunken crimson. “Jason, man, I’m putting my cards on the table tonight,” he slurred, his voice loud enough to vibrate the wine glasses. “I’m in love with Elena. I think we should have a fair shot at her. May the best man win.” My fork stopped halfway to my mouth. I looked up at him. He flinched for a split second, his gaze flickering, but then he squared his shoulders and stared back with a bravado fueled by cheap bourbon. Around the table, our old college friends exchanged glances. Some started to snicker, thinking it was a bit; others looked away, sensing the sudden shift in the air. I didn’t say a word. But Elena, sitting right next to me, let out a light, airy laugh. It wasn’t a laugh of embarrassment or discomfort. It was the sound of someone deeply enjoying the spotlight. “Well, well,” she said, setting her wine glass down. Her eyes crinkled into beautiful, playful crescents. “I guess I’ve still got it. It’s nice to know I’m still a prize worth fighting for.” She stood up, deliberately walked around my chair, and stopped next to Travis. Then, she slid her hand into the crook of his arm. She looked at me, a defiant, provocative tilt to her chin. The room erupted. “Whoa, things just got interesting!” someone shouted. “Jason, you gonna let him do that? Say something, man!” “She’s just testing you, bro. Give her a show!” I watched her hand on his sleeve. She had just gotten her nails done yesterday—a soft, shimmering rose quartz. I remembered her coming home and telling me the set cost sixty dollars plus tip. I had mentioned it seemed a bit steep. You just don’t get it, she had snapped back. I laid my fork down quietly. I stood up and grabbed my charcoal overcoat from the back of the chair. The laughter in the room began to die down, one voice at a time. Elena was still clinging to Travis’s arm, looking up at me with a smirk that said, What are you going to do about it? “Why fight?” I said, my voice steady and devoid of heat. “If you want her so badly, she’s yours. I’m done.” The silence that followed was absolute, as if someone had sucked the oxygen right out of the room. Elena’s smirk didn’t just fade; it shattered. Her hand remained on Travis’s arm, but her posture went rigid, turning her into a marble statue of herself. Travis’s face drained from red to a sickly, pale white. I pulled on my coat and zipped it up. I didn’t look at either of them. I didn’t look at anyone. I walked out of the room. Behind me, there wasn’t a single sound—no footsteps, no protests, no more jokes. Just as the elevator doors were closing, I heard the crash of a chair hitting the floor from the direction of the bistro. Then came the frantic, rhythmic clack-clack-clack of heels on tile. I pressed the button for the garage. By the time I reached my SUV, my phone started vibrating in my pocket. Her name flashed across the screen over and over. I ignored it. I started the engine, shifted into reverse, and pulled out. As the gate to the garage lifted, I saw a figure in the rearview mirror. Elena had burst out of the elevator lobby, her heels in one hand, her bare feet hitting the cold concrete of the parking garage. Her mouth was moving, screaming something I couldn’t hear through the glass. I didn’t tap the brakes. I pulled out onto the street and hit the first red light. I reached into my glove box and pulled out a burner phone I’d bought a week ago. I dialed a number I knew by heart. A man picked up on the second ring. “Hey, Jason.” “Do it,” I said. I hung up. The light turned green, and I drove. My primary phone buzzed again. It was her. I turned it off. 2 It had started three months ago. I’d come home from the office late and found her curled up on the sofa, scrolling through her phone. As I went into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, I caught a glimpse of her screen over her shoulder. A notification popped up. Hey Elena, you going to that gallery opening this weekend? I can swing by and pick you up. The sender was labeled “Travis – State.” I didn’t stop. I walked into the bedroom with my water. Travis was a guy I’d never been close to in college, but he’d suddenly become a fixture in our lives after a homecoming event last year. He’d come over to our table, “bro-ing” me for twenty minutes about how much he’d always looked up to me. Elena had been sitting right there, soaking it in. After he finished flattering me, he’d poured her a fresh glass of wine. “You’re a saint, Elena. Jason’s a lucky man to have someone like you keeping him grounded.” I hadn’t thought much of it at the time. Then, he started weaving himself into the fabric of our social life. He joined the group chat for college alumni spouses. He was the life of the digital party—cracking jokes, sending memes, being the first to wish everyone a happy holiday. “Your friend Travis is actually pretty charming,” Elena had said once. “He’s alright,” I’d replied. Then came the solo invites. At first, he invited me. Jason, let’s grab a beer. Jason, let’s hit the driving range. I went twice. After that, I was too busy with the merger at work, so I declined. That’s when he started inviting Elena. The excuses were always bulletproof. Elena, there’s this new boutique opening. I’m helping a friend with the PR, want to check it out? Elena, my cousin’s a pastry chef and she’s doing a tasting. I’ve got an extra pass. Elena, there’s a farmers market this Sunday. I’m heading that way if you need a ride. She always told me about it. She’d say it with a casual, almost bored shrug. “Travis asked if I wanted to see that exhibit. I think I’ll go.” “Travis said his friend’s shop is having a flash sale. Might browse.” “Sure,” I’d say. “Don’t you ever get jealous?” she’d ask, her eyes searching mine. “Should I be?” She’d roll her eyes and huff. “You’re so boring, Jason.” After I saw that text in the kitchen, I started paying attention. I didn’t dig through her phone—I’m not that kind of man. I just counted the frequency. In one week, Travis’s name came up three times. Monday: Travis recommended this restaurant. Wednesday: Travis mentioned an event this weekend. Friday: Travis sent me this hilarious video. That was more often than she mentioned her own sister. The second week: four times. The third week: five. One night, she came out of the shower, her hair still dripping, and the first thing she did was reach for her phone. She typed something, then giggled. “Who is it?” I asked. “Just Travis. He sent this meme, it’s actually hysterical.” She held the phone out to show me. I didn’t look at the meme. I looked at the length of the chat bubble history. The scroll bar was tiny. I handed the phone back. “Funny,” I said. That night, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling for a long time. I wasn’t wondering if she was sleeping with him. I was thinking about the way she mentioned him. She wasn’t hiding him. She was flaunting him. She wanted a reaction. She wanted me to fight for her, to be the jealous husband, to give her the drama her life was apparently lacking. And because I wouldn’t give it to her, she was upping the ante. I rolled over and closed my eyes. The next day, I called an old roommate from college. A guy named Mark who ran a boutique law firm downtown. “I need you to run a background check on someone for me,” I said. “Who?” “Travis Miller.” 3 I didn’t get to the hotel until 11:00 PM. I sat in the car for a while, the engine humming quietly. I turned my phone back on. The screen exploded with notifications. Twenty-three missed calls. Over forty texts. The first few were frantic. Where are you? Come back, we need to talk. What the hell was that, Jason? Then, the tone shifted to anger. You’re insane. You humiliated me in front of everyone. How am I supposed to show my face again? It was a joke! You’re overreacting like a freak. Then, the bargaining started. Baby, please don’t be mad. I know I crossed a line. I’m sorry. Where are you? I’m coming to get you. The last one was from five minutes ago. I’m home. Please just come home. I put out my cigarette, grabbed my bag, and went upstairs. When I finally walked into our apartment an hour later, the door was unlocked. She was sitting on the sofa, the living room lights blindingly bright, the TV off. Her feet were bare and dirty on the bottom—she really had run through the garage without shoes. She stood up the moment I walked in. Her eyes were rimmed with red, but she wasn’t crying yet. “Where were you?” “Driving,” I said. “Are you out of your mind? Doing that in front of our friends?” I hung my coat on the rack by the door. I swapped my dress shoes for slippers. I walked into the bedroom. She followed me, her voice rising. “Jason, talk to me!” I opened the closet and pulled out a large suitcase. She froze. “What are you doing?” I started packing. Socks, boxers, jeans, a few T-shirts. She lunged forward, slamming her hand down on the suitcase. “What are you packing for? Where do you think you’re going?” “I’m staying at a hotel for a few days.” “Why the hell should you be the one to leave?” “The lease is in your name, Elena. Your parents paid the deposit. It makes more sense.” She let go of the suitcase. We’d bought this place together after we got married, but technically her parents had provided the down payment as a wedding gift. I’d been paying the mortgage for three years. She watched me fold a shirt, her voice suddenly trembling. “Jason, have you been waiting for an excuse to leave me?” I paused. “Tonight wasn’t about an excuse.” “Then what is this?” “I need space to think.” “I’m perfectly calm,” she snapped, though her hands were shaking. “You’re the one being dramatic. Those things you said at the table… do you have any idea how people are going to look at me now?” I zipped the suitcase shut. I stood up and looked her in the eye. “Did you think about how people would look at you when you were clinging to his arm and laughing in my face?” She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. I gripped the handle of the suitcase and walked toward the door. She chased after me, grabbing the handle. “Please don’t go.” “I need a few days, Elena.” “How many days?” “I don’t know.” She let go. I walked out. As I stood at the elevator, I heard the door click shut behind me. It wasn’t a slam. It was a soft, final sound. That was what bothered me most. Elena never closed doors softly. I drove to a Marriott near my office. I checked in, sat on the edge of the bed, and pulled out the burner phone. There was an encrypted file Mark had sent me last week. Everything he’d found on Travis Miller. I read it line by line. Then I laid back on the bed and stared at the smoke detector on the ceiling. Its red light blinked steadily, a tiny heartbeat in the dark. I thought about the way she had laughed in that bistro. It was so bright. Brighter than she’d laughed at me in years. 4 The next morning, my phone rang at 8:00 AM. It wasn’t Elena. It was her mother, Mrs. Harrison. “Jason, where on earth are you?” “A hotel, Susan.” “Get your tail back home right now.” “I think I need to be alone for a bit.” “Alone? You’re a grown man, Jason. Sulking because of a little spat with your wife? It’s embarrassing.” I didn’t respond. She kept going. “I heard what happened. Travis had a few too many and said something stupid. Elena was just playing along to keep the mood light. You shouldn’t take it so seriously.” “Playing along,” I repeated. “Exactly. It was a joke. You’re making a mountain out of a molehill.” “Susan, she stood in front of twenty people, held another man’s arm, and mocked me.” Silence on the other end for two seconds. “Well, she shouldn’t have done that. But you shouldn’t have said you were ‘giving’ her away. What kind of thing is that to say about your wife?” “I treated her like a wife. She didn’t treat me like a husband.” Her voice sharpened. “Don’t be so sensitive. Marriage is about compromise. You need to be the bigger person here. Have some grace.” “Grace,” I said. “Grace isn’t a hall pass for disrespect.” I heard a muffled thud on the other end, like she’d slapped a table. “Jason, you are going home today, and you are going to apologize to my daughter.” “I’m not the one who owes an apology.” “You—” I hung up. I turned the phone off. I washed my face, went downstairs, and found a diner for some breakfast. Halfway through my eggs, the burner phone buzzed. A message from Mark. Jason, the second batch of financials just came in. You’re gonna want to see this. I opened the file. It was Travis’s credit card history and social media metadata. He was $110,000 in debt. He had three active payday loans. The BMW he drove? A rental. His Instagram was a curated lie—expensive steaks, rooftop bars, luxury resorts. But according to his bank statements, he wasn’t the one paying. I looked at the timestamps on his location tags. On four separate occasions, his location matched the coordinates of photos Elena had posted. Same day. Same place. I finished my breakfast. I wiped my mouth, went back to my room, and organized the screenshots by date. I saved them into an encrypted folder. At 2:00 PM, I turned my main phone back on. The alumni group chat was blowing up. Jason, man, don’t take it to heart. Travis was hammered. Yeah, Elena was just kidding around. Don’t be that guy. Come on, Jason. Be the bigger man. Don’t let a drunk kid ruin the vibe. I didn’t reply. I found Travis’s direct message. He’d sent me a text. Hey brother, I was totally out of line last night. Way too much bourbon. I’m so sorry if I caused any friction between you and Elena. My bad. He followed it with a “praying hands” emoji. I studied the message. It was too polished, too carefully worded for a man who was supposedly “blackout drunk.” I clicked on his Instagram profile. At 12:03 AM last night, right after I’d left, he’d posted a story. A photo of the messy table at the bistro. The caption: Good times with the old crew. Never a dull moment. In the corner of the frame, there was a glass of wine and a woman’s arm. On the wrist was a pink agate bracelet. Elena’s bracelet. I put the phone down. He could apologize all he wanted, but he left the trophy on display. I texted Mark. Set up a meeting for me. I need to talk to a divorce attorney. Divorce? Mark replied. Just a consultation for now. Got it. Tomorrow at 3:00. I leaned back against the headboard. Outside the window, the city moved on, oblivious. I remembered our first year of marriage. She used to sit in the passenger seat of my car and put her feet up on the dash. Don’t do that, it’s dangerous, I’d say. Make me, she’d laugh. It was a different laugh back then. That laugh was for me. 5 The third day. I stayed away. The tide in the group chat started to turn. One of my closer friends, Nick, messaged me privately. “Jason, Elena’s freaking out in the group. She says you’ve been gone for three days.” I opened the chat. Elena: Hey everyone, Jason hasn’t been home in three days. He isn’t answering my calls or texts. I’m really scared. If anyone knows where he is, please tell me. The comments were a chorus of sympathy for her. Elena, don’t worry. He’s probably just brooding. Men and their egos, right? Give him time. I’ll try calling him. This is getting ridiculous. Then they started on me. Jason’s being a bit much. It was one night. She apologized. What more does he want? He’s acting like a child. I muted the chat. Around noon, Nick called me. “Hey. Look, don’t get mad, but I gotta tell you something.” “Go ahead.” “Elena had dinner with a few people last night. She was a wreck. She cried the whole time.” “She cried?” “Hard. She said you’re ’emotionally ghosting’ her. Said she’s terrified to be in the apartment alone. She said what you said at the bistro was the most hurtful thing anyone’s ever said to her.” I leaned back in my chair. “She think I’m hurtful.” “Yeah.” “Did she think it was hurtful when she was mocking her husband while holding another man?” Silence. “Look, Jason, she messed up. Everyone knows that. But staying away like this… what’s the endgame?” “I’m handling it, Nick.” “Alright. Just… be careful. She’s winning the PR war right now.” I hung up. That afternoon, I met with the attorney, a woman named Claire. Mark sat in on the meeting. Claire flipped through the binder of evidence I’d compiled. “Do you have any texts between them that prove a physical affair?” “I haven’t looked at her phone. I won’t.” “Then these financial records and coincidental locations… they prove contact, but not necessarily adultery in a legal sense.” “I know.” “What are you looking for, Jason?” “A clean break. I want a settlement.” Claire nodded. “What’s the asset split look like?” “The apartment is hers—technically her parents. I’ve paid the mortgage for three years, and I have the records. The car is mine, pre-marital. We keep our savings separate.” “It’s straightforward, then. Unless you want to fight for a share of the apartment’s equity.” “I just want out.” Mark walked me to my car afterward. “You sure about this?” “I’m sure.” “What if she refuses to sign?” “Then we go to court.” Mark patted my shoulder. “Anything you need, man. I’ll keep digging into Travis.” “Focus on his debts,” I said. “You think he’s after her for money?” I didn’t answer. That night at the hotel, my phone lit up with a dozen more calls. One was from a number I didn’t recognize. I picked up. “Jason.” It was Travis. “How’d you get this number?” “Elena gave it to me. She asked me to talk some sense into you.” I gripped the phone, silent. “Look, man, I’m the one who messed up. Take it out on me. Hit me, scream at me, whatever. But don’t punish her. She’s a mess.” “I’m not punishing her.” “Then come home. She’s innocent in all this. I was the one pushing it.” “Innocent,” I echoed. I felt a cold laugh bubbling up. “Did she push your arm away when she grabbed it, Travis?” He didn’t answer. “Don’t call me again.” I blocked the number. 6 Day five. The doorbell to my hotel room rang. I thought it was room service. I opened it to find Travis standing there. He was holding a bag of fruit and a coffee carrier, a sheepish grin plastered on his face. “Hey, Jason. Took me a while to find which Marriott you were at.” I stood in the doorway, blocking his path. “Who told you I was here?” “I just called around. There aren’t that many in this zip code.” He held out the fruit. “I wanted to apologize in person. Over the phone felt… cheap.” I didn’t take the bag. “Say what you have to say.” He set the fruit on the floor of the hallway. “Look, I’m a prick. I get it. I shouldn’t have said those things, especially in front of everyone.” “Right.” “Elena’s been crying for days. She’s falling apart. You gotta go back, man.” “That’s not your concern.” His smile faltered. “I just… you guys have a great thing. Don’t throw it away over a drunken mistake.” I leaned against the doorframe. “That BMW you were driving last weekend, Travis. It was a rental, wasn’t it?” His expression shifted. It was subtle—a split-second freeze in his eyes—but I caught it. “How’d you know that?” “A guess.” “Yeah, it’s a rental. My car’s in the shop. Just a temporary thing.” “And the credit cards? How’s that debt consolidation coming along?” This time, the smile vanished completely. “What are you talking about?” “Nothing. Just curious.” He stared at me for a long beat. The “nice guy” facade began to peel away, revealing something sharp and guarded underneath. “My business is my business, Jason.” “Fine by me.” I started to close the door. “Wait,” he said. “Elena wanted me to tell you something.” I stopped. “She said if you don’t come home by tomorrow, she’s going to show up at your office and make a scene.” I looked at him. “Did she say that, or did you suggest it?” He didn’t answer. I shut the door. I stood there for a moment, listening to his footsteps retreat down the hall. I went to the window and looked down. A few minutes later, Travis emerged from the hotel lobby. He didn’t walk to a car. He stood on the curb and pulled out his phone. A moment later, an Uber pulled up. He didn’t even have the rental anymore. I sat down at the desk and opened the burner phone. Mark had sent a new update. Found it. He’s defaulted on two personal loans. Collectors are starting to call people in his contact list. Also, he asked Elena for money last month. How much? I typed back. Not sure on the total, but there’s a $3,000 Zelle transfer from her account to a name that matches his burner Venmo handle. I stared at the screen. Three thousand dollars. She had sent him three thousand dollars without a word to me. I remembered her complaining about the $60 manicure. I remembered her telling me we needed to “tighten our belts” so we could save for a house of our own. I pulled a blank divorce petition from my bag. I picked up a pen and began to fill in the blanks.

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1 The company organized a charity badminton tournament with a hundred-thousand-dollar cash prize for the winner. That was exactly what I needed to close the gap on the down payment for my first house. I played like a man possessed, clawing my way into the finals. My last opponent was a new hire, a kid named Xander Reed. “Hey, Miles, you’re a powerhouse,” Xander said, flashing a boyish, disarming grin. “You wouldn’t mind if I swapped partners for the final, would you? Just to even the scales?” My mind was already at the bank, signing the mortgage papers. I shrugged and agreed without a second thought. The next second, Lauren Prescott stepped onto the court, racquet in hand. Lauren—the woman who had rejected my request to team up just an hour earlier. She was a former Division I athlete, a state-level competitor who usually played with a cold, lethal precision. But in this casual office match, she spent the entire game “feeding” Xander—perfectly lofted shots that set him up for glory. During the final set, Xander leaped for a brutal, high-velocity smash. The shuttlecock didn’t hit the floor. It hit my right eye. The world went white, then dark. I lost all sensation except for a terrifying, hollow thud in my skull. “Oh man, I’m so sorry!” Xander stammered, his voice laced with a performative tremor. “I didn’t mean to… I was just trying that smash technique Lauren taught me…” Lauren’s voice was flat, clinical. “Injuries are a part of the game, Miles.” She didn’t move toward me. “Take a minute to clean up, then make sure you’re on time for Xander’s promotion dinner. It’s a big night for the team.” Through the searing pain, I felt something warm and thick seeping through my fingers. Blood. I finally realized it then: the match was over. I had lost. I set my racquet down on the court with a trembling hand. Suddenly, that house didn’t seem so important anymore. While I was at the urgent care clinic getting my eye patched, my phone buzzed incessantly. The department group chat was blowing up. “Where are you, Miles? We’re all at the bistro waiting for the guest of honor!” Xander followed up with a voice note, his tone sounding breathless and sweet. “Is Miles mad at me? I feel terrible… I just got caught up in the heat of the moment. But Lauren says holding back is the ultimate sign of disrespect to an opponent.” Then, a private message from Lauren: “Where are you? You’re Xander’s direct supervisor. If you don’t show up, it looks like you’re bitter. Don’t make this awkward for him.” I typed three words: On my way. Ten minutes later, I pushed open the heavy oak doors of the private dining room. Lauren, our Department Director, sat at the head of the table. Xander was tucked right next to her, their heads bowed in a private whisper. The room went dead silent when I walked in. Xander flinched, knocking over his glass of sparkling water. “Miles… your eye…” He looked like he was on the verge of tears. “It’s all my fault. I’m so, so sorry.” Lauren looked up. Her gaze was distant, almost annoyed. “Is it serious?” I shook my head. She tracked the movement, her brow furrowing slightly. “If it’s not serious, don’t be melodramatic. Xander is new; don’t put that kind of weight on his shoulders. He’s already been beating himself up all afternoon.” The air in the room turned brittle. A colleague tried to break the tension. “Miles is probably just worried about infection. It’s the eye, after all. Xander has been a wreck since the game.” Lauren cut him off, her eyes fixed on Xander with a softness I hadn’t seen in years. “Young talent is easily spooked in this industry. Miles, watch your tone next time. We don’t want to stifle him.” I nodded and took the only seat left—the drafty spot right by the service entrance. “Miles, seriously, are you okay?” someone whispered. I took a shaky breath. “It’s manageable.” It wasn’t. I needed surgery to repair a torn retina. It was scheduled for three days from now. Xander sniffed, then suddenly stood up. He walked all the way around the long table to stand over me. “Miles, please. Can I just see it? I need to know you’re okay so I can stop shaking.” “It’s fine, Xander. Leave it.” But he was already reaching out. Before I could pull back, he peeled the edge of the gauze away. The table gasped. My right eye was a swollen, dark mess of bruised purple and antibiotic ointment. Xander froze, then forced a shaky smile. “Oh, wow. I mean, it looks scary, but it’s just a surface bruise, right? Thank God. I thought I’d really done damage. I was so scared I’d lose my job.” He turned and ran out of the room, seemingly overwhelmed. The table erupted in low snickers and murmurs. “Talk about an overreaction,” one guy chuckled. “Miles, you really went for the full mummy wrap for a scratch? You nearly gave the kid a heart attack.” “Seriously, it looks like theatrical makeup. You’re really leaning into the victim role, aren’t you?” Lauren stood up, grabbing her coat to follow Xander. The room started gossiping the moment the door swung shut. “Did you see how protective she is? The ‘Ice Queen’ actually has a heart.” “I’ve never seen her that gentle with anyone. Especially not with Miles.” Bitterness surged in my throat, sharper than the pain in my eye. Lauren and I had been together for five years. Five years of secret late-night dinners and stolen weekends because she said we were “on the rise” and couldn’t afford a HR scandal. I had played the loyal subordinate perfectly. I wondered when, exactly, she had decided to take on a “pupil.” We waited thirty minutes for her to return. She never did. Instead, she posted a single message in the group chat: “Go ahead and eat without us. Xander is pretty shaken up. I’m driving him home.” 2 After the dinner, I went back to the hospital. The night nurse frowned as she changed my dressing. “It’s worse. Did you put pressure on this?” “It was… bumped,” I muttered. “Look, Miles,” she said, her voice dropping. “Badminton shuttlecocks are light, but at that speed? This wasn’t just an accident. This looks like someone was aiming for you. The eye is fragile.” I stayed silent. “Two days until the procedure. Do you have someone to take you home? You’ll be under heavy sedation.” I shook my head. Lauren wouldn’t be there. When I got home, the living room lights were on. Lauren was sitting on the sofa, scrolling through her iPad. She didn’t look up with concern; she looked up with a sneer of “here we go again.” “How long are you going to keep this up, Miles?” “Keep what up?” “The drama. You lost a game. If you wanted the hundred grand that badly, I would have just given it to you. You don’t need to bully a kid who’s been here for two weeks.” My eyes stung. I remembered the nurse’s warning: No crying. Pressure is the enemy. I tilted my head back and breathed through the urge. She walked over, looming over me. “Take that bandage off before you come into the office tomorrow. You look like a war casualty. People think he’s a monster because of your theatrics. He’s just started his career—how is he supposed to survive that reputation?” “Lauren, my eye needs—” “Enough,” she snapped. “It’s sports. You’ve been playing for years. Are you really going to act like a toddler until midnight?” The explanation died in my throat. “When did you start mentoring him? You never mentioned it.” “A friend of a friend,” she said dismissively, turning back to her files. I recognized the documents. It was the R&D project I’d spent the last three months pullng all-nighters for. My ticket to a VP title. “I’m giving this project to Xander,” she said. “What?” “He needs the win for his quarterly KPIs. And since your eye is ‘so bad,’ you should take it easy. Focus on your recovery.” It took a moment to find my voice. “No. I designed the architecture. I wrote every line of that proposal. You can’t just hand it over.” Lauren’s face darkened. “I’m the Director. I just did.” I turned toward the bedroom, grabbing a duffel bag and some pajamas. When I came back out, Lauren was on the balcony, her voice a low, melodic coo into her phone. “He’s fine, Xander. Don’t let it keep you up. Just get some sleep, okay? See you in the morning.” She saw me with the pillow and blanket under my arm, and her eyes turned to ice. “Miles, you’re not a kid anymore. We’re supposed to be moving to the next stage of our lives. Can you stop being so damn petty?” Last month, on her birthday, I’d cooked a five-course meal. She’d gotten a little tipsy and asked me to marry her. I had wept with relief, thinking our five-year marathon was finally reaching a beautiful finish line. “By the way,” she added, “the house you liked on the waterfront? Someone else put in a cash offer. It’s gone. We’ll find something else.” I didn’t say a word. I just walked into the guest room and locked the door. “Miles! What is wrong with you?” she yelled through the wood. The next morning at the stand-up meeting, Lauren bypassed me entirely. She announced Xander as the lead on the new project. “If you have technical questions, feel free to consult Miles,” she added. Xander smirked, his eyes darting past me to linger on Lauren. “Can I just come straight to you, Lauren? I don’t want to bother Miles while he’s… healing.” The room went still. No one spoke to Lauren Prescott like that in a formal meeting. To everyone’s shock, Lauren smiled. “Of course you can.” Xander’s face flushed a triumphant red. 3 After the meeting, Xander tagged me in the public Slack channel. “@Miles, I’m not familiar with these legacy data sets. Can you compile a summary and send them over by EOD?” “No,” I typed back. “If you’re the Lead, learn the architecture. Ask questions when you’ve done the reading.” Xander sat at his desk, biting his lip, looking like a kicked puppy. In the breakroom, the whispers were already starting. “Miles is being so cold. Xander is just a junior.” “He’s just bitter about the project. Classic gatekeeping.” “I mean, look at that bandage. It’s a scratch. He’s using it to justify being a jerk.” I walked past them, my face a mask. After lunch, Lauren returned from a meeting. Xander immediately scurried into her office with a stack of files. Moments later, Lauren marched to my desk and dropped the files in front of me. “Validate these numbers. I want them on my desk by noon tomorrow.” “Lauren, I told you, my eye—” “Minor trauma doesn’t affect your ability to read a spreadsheet,” she cut me off. “If you can’t do your job, we need to talk about your performance review.” It was a standard directive from a boss to a subordinate. On paper, she was within her rights. I had no choice. As the office emptied out that evening, Xander stopped by my cubicle. “Rough night, Miles? Make sure those numbers are perfect. My mentor doesn’t like mistakes.” By 10 PM, the office was a tomb. Only the lights above my desk remained on. My left eye was straining, and my right eye felt like it was being poked with hot needles. I don’t know how much time passed before the sharp, stabbing pain returned. I pressed my hand against the gauze. It came away hot and wet. Blood was streaming down my cheek, spotting my white dress shirt. Lauren stepped out of her office, coat in hand. She saw my face and gasped. “Miles—” “Oh my God!” Xander was standing at the door, two cups of coffee hitting the floor and splattering. “Miles, why are you bleeding again? Please, stop doing this to me! I said I was sorry!” Lauren’s step toward me faltered. She looked at Xander’s panicked face, then back at me. “It’s fine. Xander, go home,” she said. “Lauren, the hallway is so dark… can you walk me to the garage?” Xander pleaded, his voice trembling. Lauren didn’t hesitate. She took his arm and led him out. As they turned the corner, Xander tripped on the spilled coffee, and Lauren caught him, her hands steady on his waist. I turned back to my monitor, the red droplets blurring on the screen. When Lauren finally came back, I had cleaned myself up. She stood over me, watching me pack my bag. “What happened?” “The stitches popped,” I said. She stared at me for a few beats, her expression unreadable. “Fine. Just go home. We’ll finish this later.” She reached for my hand. But Xander appeared in the doorway again. “Lauren, I forgot to give you your late-night snack…” I pulled my hand away before she could touch me. I grabbed my bag and walked past her without a word. In the elevator, I caught my reflection in the stainless steel. White gauze, a swollen face, bloodstains on my collar. I looked pathetic. A ghost of the man I used to be. Looking at that tired, broken reflection, my good eye finally filled with tears. I was done. I had given up on the house. Now, I was giving up on Lauren. 4 The next morning, I woke up with a fever of 102. My eye was throbbing in time with my pulse. After filing for a medical leave of absence, I stepped out into the living room. Lauren was gone. The house felt like a tomb. I ate some stale cereal, swallowed a fever reducer with cold water, and fell back into a restless sleep. I was awoken by my phone vibrating violently. The project group chat was a war zone. 99+ messages. “Our competitor just published their new R&D roadmap on LinkedIn. It’s an exact mirror of the project Miles was working on.” “The data sets are identical. Even the trend charts—I recognize the formatting. Miles did those.” I sat up, the room spinning. “Everyone stay calm,” I typed. “Check the server logs. Someone needs to pull the raw data from the lab computers.” The chat went silent. Then, Xander tagged me. “Miles, how could you? You leaked our work to the competition just to spite me? That is pathetic. You’re sabotaging all of our hard work because you’re jealous.” My blood ran cold. “Xander, if you have proof, call HR. Otherwise, that’s defamation.” “You’re the only one with the encryption keys, Miles. And you were ‘working late’ alone last night right before this happened. How convenient.” I didn’t wait. I threw on a hoodie and drove to the office. My computer was already taped off. Lauren was in her office, her face a mask of fury behind a cloud of cigarette smoke—a habit she only indulged when she was truly livid. “Miles. What did they offer you?” She didn’t ask if I did it. She didn’t ask for my side. She just wanted to know my price. “It wasn’t me, Lauren.” She stood up, leaning over her desk. “You’ve been a manager for two years. You wanted a promotion? You could have just asked. Instead, you sold us out?” “Lauren, look at me. I was sick. I’ve been in agony. I didn’t—” “You’re suspended,” she snapped. “Pending a full investigation. By the end of the year, you’ll be lucky to have a job as a junior technician. Xander is more capable than you’ll ever be. From now on, you report to him.” I took a long, slow breath. The cord had finally snapped. I reached down, unclipped my security badge, and placed it on her desk. As I walked out, the entire office stared. Xander was standing by the water cooler, a smirk playing on his lips. “Losing with dignity is an art, Miles,” he whispered as I passed. “A man who loses his career and his character… well, he doesn’t deserve to stand next to someone like Lauren.” He didn’t knock. He just walked right into her office—a place I’d had to earn the right to enter over half a decade. I went to my desk and took only one thing: a small ceramic doll I’d kept in the corner. I had bought it for Lauren years ago, but she’d left it on my desk, saying it didn’t fit her “aesthetic.” I went home and called a moving company. By sunset, everything I owned was packed and headed to my parents’ place in another state. I turned off the light I had kept burning for her for five years, and I didn’t look back.

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I’ve been able to hear inanimate objects talk for as long as I can remember. My house slippers were always complaining about my cold feet, the refrigerator constantly whined about needing a vacation, and the living room television grumbled that it wanted to be upgraded to a sleeker model. For twenty years, my ears were filled with this endless, mundane chatter. That was until my wealthy biological parents tracked me down, announcing I was their long-lost daughter. Right away, they arranged a blind date for me and my adopted sister, Pamela—offering us two potential matches. One was a polished, foreign-educated finance elite. The other was a hulking, sun-baked, heavily weathered man. Pamela didn’t hesitate. She grabbed the elite finance guy for herself and tossed the rough-looking man to me with a sneer. “A hideous freak for a penniless nobody,” she mocked. “You two are made for each other.” Before I could even respond, a hysterical voice shrieked directly from the charcoal powder smeared on the man’s face: “What is wrong with this billionaire heir? He’s worth tens of billions, yet he forced three thick layers of me onto his skin just to cover up his pale complexion!” The silicone body suit under his shirt chimed in with an agonizing sob: “Tell me about it! The man has a chiseled eight-pack, but he insisted on using me to fake three rolls of belly fat! I’m getting squished into a pancake here!” Meanwhile, the sleek watch on the finance guy’s wrist offered a bitter snort: “I’m a ten-dollar knockoff from a street market, and this clown is using me to flex! He’s running a pig-butchering scam!” I paused for a second, then smiled warmly as I wrapped my arm around the heavy-set man’s bicep. “Mom, Dad,” I said softly, “I’ll take him.” … The man went completely rigid beside me. The silicone suit’s scream nearly deafened me. “His heart rate just hit 160! Girl, let go of his arm! When he gets nervous, his core tightens up—I’m being crushed!” My mother almost dropped her teacup. “Callie… are you serious?” My father frowned, eyeing the man’s stretched-to-the-limit black shirt and faded flip-flops. He swallowed hard before asking, “Mr… Hank, was it? What did you say your family does again?” The man rubbed the back of his neck, offering a clumsy, timid smile. “Just call me Hank, sir. My family… well, we raise pigs down in the country.” Pamela looked at my hand on Hank’s arm, her face twisted in pure disgust. “Callie, you must be truly desperate to stomach someone like that. But then again, a trashy loser with an ugly brute—it really is a match made in heaven.” A dark, sharp glint flickered in Hank’s eyes for a fraction of a second. He turned to look at me, his gaze hiding a cautious, fragile uncertainty. “Um… Miss Callie, I know I’m not much to look at. You really don’t mind?” I looked straight into his eyes, keeping my expression entirely sincere. “I think you’re incredible,” I said softly. “You’re different from every other man I’ve met. You give off this quiet, distant vibe… a profound sort of loneliness. It feels like deep down, you’ve been carrying everything alone, hiding who you truly are. No matter where you are, my eyes are drawn to you. Looking at you right now… you seem so fragile, like you might break.” Hank’s breathing hitched completely. He stared at me, his throat working through several heavy swallows before he managed a muffled response: “…You can take all the time you need to get to know me.” Beneath the dark charcoal powder, the tips of his ears flushed a deep, burning crimson. Keeping my gentle smile in place, I quietly celebrated inside. The relationship advice on social media really didn’t lie—no man could resist that kind of emotional validation. Brandon, the finance elite, observed us with a look of utter perplexity. He leaned down toward Pamela’s ear, whispering in a dramatic, gravelly tone, “Is your sister… into tragic fixer-uppers?” Pamela flushed, covering her mouth as she giggled softly. “She’s just completely blind. A hideously fat pig farmer—only someone like her would fall for that.” Brandon stood up, cleared his throat, and elegantly buttoned his tailored suit jacket. “Allow me to introduce myself properly,” he announced smoothly. “I hold a Master’s degree in Financial Engineering from Cambridge. Returned home last year to launch my own firm, which pulled in over fifteen million in revenue this past year alone. I’ve secured three properties in the city center and picked up a modest vehicle for daily commutes.” With practiced subtlety, he adjusted his wrist—showing off his fake Patek Philippe—and tossed a Porsche key onto the marble coffee table. His eyes flicked toward me, waiting for an impression. I remained focused on Hank’s flustered expression, holding back a smirk with great difficulty. Because right at that moment, Brandon’s watch was wildly venting in my ear: “Look at this peacock strutting around! Who is he trying to fool? He was crammed into the subway doors two days ago—I literally watched him get stuck in the sliding doors for thirty seconds before he squeezed out!” “And to think a ten-dollar cheap piece like me gets to pretend to be high luxury. What a joke.” The Porsche key quietly chimed in with a verbal dagger: “I’ve been rented out by a hundred guys, but this one is easily the biggest poser of them all.” Pamela didn’t notice where Brandon’s gaze had strayed. Her eyes sparkled with admiration as she cupped her cheeks. “Brandon, you’re amazing! So young and already running your own empire!” My mother nodded approvingly. “A truly accomplished young man.” My father pondered for a moment before finally making the call. “Since both of you girls have made your choices, spend some time getting to know them.” Brandon chimed in immediately, offering a charming, polished smile. “Don’t worry, sir. I’ll take wonderful care of Pamela. Coincidentally, there’s an exclusive charity gala hosted by top industry leaders tomorrow night. I’d love to bring Pamela as my date.” He paused, his eyes straying back toward me once more. “Callie, would you like to join us? It would be a great opportunity for you to network—” The cheap watch cut him off ruthlessly: “Your invitation pass is literally a cropped, Photoshopped screenshot! What are you taking her for—to stand by the velvet ropes and take photos for social media?” Hank interrupted him with a booming, nervous tone as he looked at me. “Miss Callie, I… I wanted to take you to see my farm tomorrow. Would that be okay?” The charcoal powder whispered: “Whether it’s a farm or a multi-billion-dollar industrial park, our boss will let her decide.” My eyes lit up, and I gripped his hand tightly. “I’d love to. I’m definitely coming!” Early the next morning, both Hank and Brandon arrived at the front gates at almost the exact same time. Pamela stood by Brandon’s rented Porsche in a floor-length designer gown, radiating artificial glamour. I wore a pair of loose, practical canvas overalls, stepping toward Hank’s battered, rusted van. Pamela covered her mouth, making no effort to hide the sneer in her voice. “Sister, everyone else is attending premier galas to build high-level connections, and here you are, insists on wallowing in the mud with a hideous butcher.” Hank looked noticeably darker than he had yesterday—likely because he had applied an extra layer of charcoal powder. He rubbed his hands together awkwardly, looking fidgety. “Callie, I use this van for hauling cargo… it might smell a little rough. Do you mind?” Without a word, I pulled open the passenger door and hopped in. “Let’s go. Take me to the farm.” The van chugged and sputtered its way toward the outer outskirts of the city. The moment we stepped out, the pungent scent of livestock filled the air. I walked into the barn without flinching. Hank followed closely behind me, offering a self-deprecating smile, but the silicone suit under his clothes couldn’t keep quiet. “Girl, don’t just look at the livestock! Look at the commercial development behind it! That entire industrial zone! Every square inch belongs to him!” Hank stared at the pens, his voice dipped in practiced insecurity. “I’ve been working with livestock my whole life. I’m ugly, and people always made fun of me. Growing up, whenever I went on blind dates, girls would take one look at me and run.” He paused, looking at me with gentle confusion. “You… you’re so beautiful. I really can’t figure out why you picked me.” I didn’t answer right away. Instead, I pointed toward a solid, well-fed hog in the corner. “Can I have this one?” Hank blinked in surprise. “Sure… absolutely. Take ten if you want…” I rolled up my sleeves, pulled a sharp butcher’s blade from the rack, and tested the weight in my hand. “It’s been a while since I did this. Let me show you what I can do.” Hank panicked for a second, quickly calling over a couple of farmhands to help pin the animal down. With swift, practiced precision, I made the cut—clean, efficient, and methodical. Half an hour later, I washed my hands clean and turned to offer a soft smile to a stunned Hank. “Growing up, the annual harvest feast was what I looked forward to most,” I said quietly. “Freshly prepared roast was the ultimate comfort.” I dried my hands on a towel. “My adoptive parents were disabled. My mother had severe facial scars from an accident, and my father suffered from partial paralysis. Neither of them looked like the people in your family’s glossy photo albums. But they always saved the best cuts of meat for me, and they never once made me feel lesser just because I was a girl.” Hank crouched down, looking up at me without blinking. “When I was brought back to this wealthy family,” I continued, my voice steady and neutral, “everyone looked polished and perfect. But my biological parents showed blatant favoritism, people whispered behind my back, and sometimes… hands were raised against me.” I met his gaze directly. “So tell me, Hank… do looks really matter that much? I only care about what’s genuine.” Hank stood up abruptly, his posture shifting subtly as a cold, dark intensity flickered in his eyes. “Who laid a hand on you?” I pretended not to hear him, pulling up my phone to show him Pamela’s latest social media post. A nine-photo grid featuring champagne pyramids, crystal chandeliers, and Brandon holding her waist. The caption read: “Some people are born for the penthouse; others belong in the gutter.” “See?” I said quietly. “They look effortless and refined. But to me, all of that isn’t worth a real, home-cooked meal.” Hank’s expression turned complex. “You… you don’t care for high society?” Instead of answering, I offered him a small smile. “Thank you, Hank. I had a really good time today. Honestly, I haven’t felt this relaxed in a long time.” At that exact moment, the charcoal powder on his cheeks practically shrieked: “Oh no, oh no! The boss is blushing! He’s burning me up!” Hank remained silent for the entire drive back. When we arrived at the gates of the Caldwell estate, we happened to run right into Pamela and Brandon returning from the gala. The moment Pamela saw me, she covered her nose and mouth, her face twisted in utter revulsion. “Ugh—Callie, did you actually go out to a pig sty with that disgusting brute? That’s revolting!” she scoffed. “I guess you really can’t wash off the dirt. Go ahead, marry that hideous loser and spend the rest of your life in the mud!” Even Brandon, who had been trying so hard to project a suave demeanor yesterday, pinched his nose in distaste. I heard his cheap watch wailing in despair: “Guys, it’s over! This scammer actually convinced her to buy him a sixty-thousand-dollar watch tomorrow! Am I getting thrown into the trash bin?!” I smiled faintly, looking at Pamela with a quiet, knowing look. “Who’s actually getting slaughtered here… remains to be seen.” Pamela and Brandon swept into a whirlwind romance over the next few weeks. She drained her personal savings to throw into Brandon’s private investment fund, constantly pressuring our parents to jump in as well. My parents ended up committing over seven million dollars. To push his venture further, Pamela even organized an exclusive networking banquet, inviting high-net-worth individuals from across the city to invest in his firm. Meanwhile, Hank and I spent our days wandering through low-key local spots, grabbing street food, and occasionally visiting the farm. Life felt remarkably peaceful. On the night of the investment banquet, Pamela arrived on Brandon’s arm, wearing an exquisite couture gown and radiating arrogance. Brandon took the stage with effortless composure, delivering a smooth pitch. Impressed by the Caldwell family’s apparent backing, several prominent figures agreed to write checks on the spot. Hank and I found a quiet, out-of-the-way corner table and quietly enjoyed the spread. Halfway through the evening, Pamela marched over to our table and slammed a glass of red wine straight into my face. “Callie, do you have no sense of shame?” she hissed, her voice cutting through the ambient room noise. “Tonight is an elite capital gathering, a room most ordinary people couldn’t buy their way into if they tried! How dare you bring a filthy, unrefined brute into a space like this?!” The cold wine soaked through my dress, clinging heavily to my skin. Every eye in the room instantly snapped toward us. In a flash, Hank stepped directly in front of me, his eyes cold and menacing. “Apologize.” Brandon stepped up to shield Pamela, releasing a mocking laugh. “A nobody who handles livestock thinks he can talk to Pamela like that? Everyone in this room commands millions. You getting through those doors is a privilege you should be thanking us for on your knees!” Hank glanced down at Brandon’s wrist, his voice dropping into a quiet, dangerous tone. “A man wearing a ten-dollar fake has no place talking about millions.” He paused, staring straight into Brandon’s panicked eyes. “You put on a convincing show, Brandon. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work on me.” The cheap watch on Brandon’s wrist nearly broke into tears: “Friends, I’m back from the garbage bin! This cheapskate couldn’t bring himself to wear the real luxury piece he bought, so he resold it and strapped me right back on!” Brandon’s face turned pale as he instinctively pulled his left hand behind his back. Pamela, however, flared up with instant outrage. “That watch cost me sixty thousand dollars out of my own pocket! What would a penniless loser who spends his days in the dirt know about luxury brands?!” She sneered, gesturing wildly. “If you sold yourself and everything you owned, you wouldn’t be worth a fraction of the leather on Brandon’s wrist!” I gently tugged at Hank’s sleeve, keeping my voice low. “Let it go… if my parents see this, they’ll only punish me again.” Hank looked down at my wine-stained lashes, his voice raspy with suppressed rage. “As long as I’m standing here, no one touches you.” Pamela scoffed. “Who do you think you are to protect her?!” She turned toward the hall security, raising her voice to a sharp command. “Security! Throw these two disruptive freeloaders out immediately!” Three heavy-set guards lunged forward, grabbing my arms to haul me toward the exit. Hank surged forward. “Get your hands off her!” Before he could reach me, two of the guards tackled him, pinning him firmly to the marble floor. As he was forced down, he caught sight of my dress tearing at the shoulder from the rough handling. His eyes turned bloodshot. “Pamela! Do you have any idea who the hell you’re putting your hands on?!” he roared, his voice shaking the room. “I order you to let her go right now!” Pamela stepped forward, raising her high heel and digging the sharp tip firmly into his chest. “You think you can address me by my name? I can ruin whoever I want! What are you going to do about it, you useless piece of trash?” Right at that moment, the heavy double doors of the ballroom were slammed open with a deafening crash. A furious roar echoed across the hall: “I’d like to see who dares lay a hand on a member of the Kingsley family!” A quiet gasp rippled through the crowd as people recognized the newcomer. “That’s… that’s Kieran Kingsley! The second-in-command of the Kingsley Syndicate!” “If Kieran Kingsley is here in person, does that mean Brandon’s project has the backing of the main Kingsley estate?!” Brandon’s eyes lit up with wild ambition, and he frantically gestured for the security guards to release us. Hank immediately stripped off his heavy jacket, rushing over to wrap it tightly around my shoulders. Kieran strode into the room, but the moment his eyes landed on Hank’s disguised appearance, his expression visibly twitched. Pamela, eager to seize the moment, rushed toward Kieran with an apologetic smile. “Mr. Kingsley, I’ve already looked into this man. This Hank is just a distant, forgotten relative from an obscure branch of your family tree. He’s already married with a child, yet my sister was foolish enough to fall for his act. I was merely stepping in to maintain order—please don’t take offense.” Disdainful glares rained down on me from every corner of the room like sharp slaps to the face. My mother rushed over, digging her finger forcefully into my temple. “You’ve completely humiliated the Caldwell family name!” I shook my head helplessly, my voice barely audible. “Mom, it’s not what she’s saying…” Hank clenched his fists, taking a firm step forward. “Ma’am, let me explain. I’m actually not—” “SMACK.” My mother delivered a harsh, echoing slap across Hank’s face. Kieran drew in a sharp breath, his jaw dropping in utter shock. My mother glared at Hank with absolute revulsion. “I am correcting my daughter. It is not the place of an outsider to speak.” I broke away and threw myself in front of Hank, screaming until my voice went raw. “Why do you always believe Pamela without question?!” “Why is it that no matter what I say, you never listen?!” Driven by sheer desperation, I pulled back the hem of my gown, exposing the long, jagged scars running up my legs. Tears spilled over uncontrollably. “Ever since I was brought back to your home, Pamela set dogs on me, burned me with candles, and neither of you cared!” “Now, all I wanted was to have one genuine friend who actually cares about me! What right do you have to judge me?!” My father stepped up, his hand swinging down with heavy force across my cheek. “You ungrateful girl! How dare you speak to your mother like that?!” A deafening ring echoed in my ears as my balance gave out. I fell backward, plunging directly toward the heavy, nine-tier crystal champagne tower behind me. Panels of glass shattered violently as hundreds of filled flutes tumbled down around us. “Callie!” Hank’s pupils contracted in pure terror. He lunged forward without hesitation, throwing his body over mine and wrapping me in a tight, protective embrace. A deafening cascade of shattering glass echoed through the hall. The torrent of spilled wine washed away the thick layer of charcoal powder clinging to his face. Sharp shards of glass sliced through the hidden seams of the silicone suit. Beneath the soaked, torn white shirt, the firm, defined contours of a natural eight-pack were unmistakably visible. A mixture of red wine and crimson blood trickled down from his temple. When he raised his head, he revealed a face of breathtaking refinement—cold, noble, and strikingly handsome. Someone in the crowd caught sight of his features and gasped, unable to believe their own eyes. “Greg Kingsley?! The main heir to the Kingsley empire?!” “How… how could he be that rough country butcher?!” Pamela and Brandon’s faces drained of every drop of color instantly.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “554428”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

During the hurricane, I spent thirteen hours trapped in waist-deep, freezing mud before Gale’s lifted Dodge Ram finally cut through the storm. When it pulled up, the passenger seat wasn’t empty. Brianna, the fresh-out-of-college intern he’d been mentoring, was sitting inside. The emergency blanket and the single remaining evacuation spot that should have been mine were wrapped tightly around her shoulders. As I waded through the rushing water toward the truck, Brianna made a weak gesture toward the door handle. Gale immediately reached over and locked it shut from the inside. “It’s freezing out there, and she’s already soaked,” Gale’s voice was muffled through the glass, his expression stern as he cracked the window just an inch. “Look at the state of you—don’t open the door and let the cold draft in. You’ll give her hypothermia.” Years ago, I ruined my back and destroyed my health helping him build his company from a damp basement. Now, I was just the faded woman on the other end of the line whose distress calls he had declined thirteen times in a row. Gale cranked the truck’s heater on high for Brianna, reached out the cracked window, and tossed a broken umbrella down into the mud. “The water level’s dropping,” he said, his tone clipped with irritation. “Wade down the rest of the slope yourself. And drop the dead-eyed, tragic act.” I stared at the sheer disgust on his face, and a sudden, dark laugh caught in my throat. He seemed to have forgotten something fundamental. If I could pull him out of the gutter and raise him to the top of the world, I could tear him down just as easily. … The moment my fingers slipped off the truck’s wet bed rack, my fingernails were caked with dirt. Gale didn’t hit the brakes. The heavy tires churned through the murky floodwaters, splashing dark mud across my face. Through the tinted rear glass, Brianna turned to glance back at me. Her lips moved, framing an insincere “I’m sorry”, even as she pulled the fleece emergency blanket tighter around her neck. Over the rescue team’s portable comms unit, someone finally spoke up, his voice static-laced and uncomfortable. “Gale… Josie’s still back there. We’re really leaving her?” Gale’s reply was curt, devoid of warmth. “She can walk. We need to get Brianna down the mountain first. Her fever is spiking; she won’t survive the night up here.” Another team member chimed in, quieter this time. “But man… Josie’s been submerged in that runoff for thirteen hours.” The radio went silent for two agonizing seconds. Then Gale let out a brief, humorless laugh. “She’s not that fragile. Back when we were starting out, she worked construction sites in driving rain and hauled steel beams without complaining. Now she’s just throwing a dramatic fit because she wants attention.” I stood anchored in the rushing current, listening to those words over the lingering radio feedback. My body was shaking so violently from the cold that the sting of his words took a moment to sink in. I hadn’t complained back then because I trusted he would always turn around for me. The year his first venture failed and loan sharks cornered him in a derelict warehouse, I stepped in front of a steel pipe for him. The year he couldn’t make payroll, I sold the solid gold bangle my late mother had left me. And that brutal winter five years ago, when we couldn’t afford heating, he wrapped his only heavy parka around my shoulders and whispered, “Josie, even if the sky falls, I’ll hold it up over you first.” Now, the storm had shattered everything. And he was holding the sky up for someone else. I pulled the broken umbrella from the current. Two of the fiberglass ribs were snapped, hanging limp and useless against the rain. My phone had long since died from water damage. Left with no choice, I gripped the freezing steel guardrail and forced one foot in front of the other. The swift current battered my legs. My knee struck a submerged boulder, a sharp, blinding pain shooting up my spine that turned my vision white. “Josie!” A voice shouted over the roar of the gale. I turned my head through the blinding rain and saw a red rescue pickup parked halfway up the incline. The driver’s door slammed open, and a man in an all-weather jacket leaped down into the knee-deep water. It was Drew, one of the senior leads from Gale’s off-road club. He sprinted toward me, his face pale with alarm as he snapped a heavy carabiner and safety line onto my belt. “Are you out of your mind? Walking in a flash flood like this? You could be swept off the ridge!” I parted my lips, but my throat was so dry and raw I could barely rasp out a breath. “Gale said… the water wasn’t that deep.” Drew’s hands froze on the harness. He didn’t answer. Instead, he unzipped his heavy waterproof jacket and wrapped it around my shivering frame. “Get in the truck. Now.” I collapsed into the back seat of the pickup. As the blasting climate control hit my skin, my numb, frozen fingers flared with a agonizing, burning pain. Drew handed me a thermos of hot water. “You tried calling him? He wouldn’t pick up?” I stared down at the steam curling off the rim of the stainless-steel cup. “He picked up once.” Drew looked at me through the rearview mirror. “He told me to stop bothering him,” I said quietly. Silence descended inside the cab. Up front, the driver muttered a quiet, sharp curse under his breath before falling silent. I leaned my head back against the headrest, watching the rain slam against the roof, remembering the day Gale had driven his very first truck up to my apartment. It was a beat-up, second-hand Ford he bought right after our company secured its first round of funding. He had wiped down the passenger seat three times with his sleeve before opening the door for me, grinning like a kid who had just won the lottery. “This seat is yours, Josie. Always. Nobody else ever sits here.” Then Brianna joined the firm as a junior analyst. “She’s fresh out of college, Josie. She has no connections, no safety net—just like we were ten years ago,” he had told me. “Giving her a leg up doesn’t mean anything. Don’t be so paranoid.” I had believed him. I believed him right up until today, when I learned the hard truth: that seat didn’t belong to a person. It belonged to whoever he felt like protecting at any given moment. As the truck neared the county’s emergency staging center, the radio on Drew’s dashboard crackled to life. Brianna’s soft, timid voice filtered through the speaker. “Gale… please don’t be mad at Josie. She was probably just cold. I’m sure she stayed behind on purpose to make a point…” Gale’s voice was gentle, filled with a soothing warmth I hadn’t heard in years. “Don’t waste your energy thinking about her. Drink the ginger tea.” I closed my eyes. The hot thermos scorched my palms. I didn’t let go. When the pickup pulled to a halt, Drew turned around. “Let me walk you to the medical tent.” I shook my head. The staging area was a chaos of glaring halogen floodlights, mud-caked boots, and shouting volunteers. The moment my feet touched the ground, I saw Gale standing by the main entrance flap, holding a paper cup of hot soup. When his eyes landed on me, his eyebrows instantly knitted into a deep, irritated scowl. “Why were you in Drew’s truck?” I just looked at him. His tone grew sharper, laced with condescension. “Josie, do you really have to make every single crisis about yourself? Must everyone drop what they’re doing to cater to you?” I didn’t have the strength to argue. Drew stepped between us, his voice tight with barely suppressed anger. “Gale, she just came out of waist-deep runoff. She needs a medical evaluation.” Gale ignored Drew entirely, keeping his harsh gaze locked on me. “I asked you a question. Did you lose your voice?” Brianna stepped out from the main tent, draped in a fresh wool blanket. Her hair was completely dry, her pale face artfully sad. She reached out and lightly tugged on Gale’s sleeve. “Gale, please don’t fight. It’s my fault. Josie must have been terrified… She can have my cot in the medical bay. I’ll just sit outside on the bench.” The surrounding volunteers turned to look at us. Several of them recognized Gale—he was a major private donor for the regional rescue effort—and they knew Brianna as the young assistant he’d been bringing to every high-level dinner lately. When their eyes shifted to me, their expressions held a mixture of pity and uncomfortable judgment. I looked down at myself. Covered in slick, grey mud, my jeans torn at the knee, a jagged, bloody scratch trailing up my forearm where I’d scraped against the guardrail. I looked pathetic. Like a bitter woman starting a scene. Gale handed the soup to Brianna, then turned back to me, his voice cold and final. “Stop acting so dramatic. Space inside the tents is limited, and Brianna has a weak constitution. Is it really going to kill you to yield for once?” A dry, bitter laugh escaped my lips. My cracked skin split, and the faint, copper taste of blood seeped into my mouth. “I yielded the passenger seat. I yielded the emergency blanket. I yielded the rescue transport. And now I’m supposed to yield a hospital cot?” Gale’s face darkened. “Nobody forced you to be stuck up on that ridge! You’re the one who insisted on driving up to the mountain office to deliver those land-deed filings!” Those filings—the ones he had called me at six in the morning to demand. Because the hilltop project’s closing documents were missing the official corporate seal. “Josie, this deal is worth twenty million,” he had said on the phone, his voice urgent. “I can’t trust anyone else with these originals. I need you to bring them up.” I had driven straight into a Category 4 storm. Halfway up the pass, a rockslide took out the road, throwing my car into the drainage ditch. I had called him thirteen times while the water rose around my tires. He declined thirteen times. When he finally answered on the fourteenth attempt, before I could even tell him I was sinking, I heard Brianna crying in the background. “She’s panicked and trapped at the mountain lodge,” he had snapped at me. “Stop adding to the mess, Josie.” Those memories surged to the surface, but I swallowed them back down. Explaining was pointless. It wasn’t that he didn’t know. He simply didn’t care. I leaned against a nearby folding table, my knuckles turning white as I held myself upright. “Gale, I have a fever.” He froze for a fraction of a second. Before he could speak, Brianna let out two soft, fragile coughs. Gale’s attention snapped back to her instantly. He reached out, resting the back of his hand against her forehead. “Why are you still so cold?” I watched his hand. That hand used to check my temperature first. He used to know that I suffered from severe joint inflammation if I spent too long in the rain. He used to know that my knees couldn’t handle freezing water. Knowing didn’t mean caring anymore. A field nurse walked over and pressed a digital thermometer against my temple. It chimed quietly. “One hundred and two point five. Miss, sit down over here right now. We need to clean those cuts.” Hearing the temperature, Gale’s eyes flickered with a sudden beat of hesitation. He took a half-step toward me, but Brianna suddenly swayed on her feet, collapsing softly against his chest. “Gale… everything’s spinning…” He caught her instantly, wrapping his arm around her waist. “Medic! Check her first!” The nurse frowned, looking at her chart. “I checked her ten minutes ago. Her vitals and temperature are completely normal.” Brianna’s posture stiffened for a microsecond. Gale’s voice turned dangerous. “She said she’s dizzy. Are you going to take responsibility if she faints?” The nurse opened her mouth, stunned into silence by his hostility. A quiet, hollow laugh bubbled up in my chest. Drew took my arm, his voice low and urgent. “Don’t look at them. Come on.” I nodded slowly. As Drew guided me toward the adjacent medical tent, Brianna’s soft, breathless voice drifted over the noise of the storm. “Do you think Josie is going to be angry with me, Gale?” Gale’s response was immediate, dismissive. “Don’t worry about her. That’s just how she is. Give her a few days, and she’ll get over it.” My footsteps paused for a fraction of a second. “A few days.” So that was what my ten years of devotion amounted to—an annoyance with a predetermined expiration date. He assumed I would quiet down. He assumed I would endure it. He assumed I would always come back. Sitting on the edge of a metal cot, I watched quietly as the nurse carefully cut away the mud-soaked denim around my knee. The pain was sharp, but inside, I felt an uncanny, absolute calm. I turned to Drew. “Could I borrow your cell phone?” Drew handed it over without a word. I dialed a number I hadn’t called in nearly five years. When the line connected, my voice was so raspy I barely recognized it myself. “Dad… I want to come home.” My father sent his private detail through the storm overnight. By four in the morning, as soon as a single lane of the mountain highway was cleared of debris, a black Lincoln Navigator pulled up outside the staging area. As two security guards helped me toward the vehicle, Gale caught sight of us from across the lot. His expression shifted instantly from annoyance to sheer disbelief. “Josie! Where the hell do you think you’re going?” I didn’t turn around. He closed the distance in long, aggressive strides, slamming his hand against the frame of the passenger door before the guard could shut it. “What is this? Haven’t you pushed this drama far enough?” I lifted my eyes to look at him. “I’m going home.” He let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. “Your home is with me! What are you talking about?” My gaze dropped to his wrist. He was wearing the Patek Philippe watch I had bought him the day Vanguard Dynamics went public. Engraved on the casing back were four words: “Side by side, forever.” Right now, a streak of dried brown mud coated the polished platinum bezel—left behind when he had scooped Brianna into his arms. “Gale,” I said, my voice unnaturally steady. “We’re done. I’m leaving you.” He went entirely still. A second later, a dark, frustrated smirk pulled at his mouth. “Because I brought Brianna down first? Josie, you’re thirty-two years old, not twenty-two. Stop throwing tantrums and using breakups as a weapon.” I stared at him. Those words felt colder than the floodwaters I had spent thirteen hours standing in. Thirty-two. I had given him my twenties. I had weathered the damp basement apartments, the debt collectors, the ninety-hour work weeks, and the grueling climb until everyone in the industry called him “Mr. Elwin”. I gave him the best decade of my life. And in return, I was now the woman who was “too old” to have feelings. I reached out and slowly peeled his fingers off the doorframe. “It’s not a weapon, Gale. It’s a notification.” His face drained of color, replaced by a sudden, volatile coldness. “If you step into that car tonight, Josie, don’t you dare come crawling back later.” A short distance away, Brianna stood near the flap of the staging tent, watching us. There was a faint, triumphant gleam in her eyes that she didn’t bother to hide. “Josie, please don’t be impulsive,” she called out, her tone dripping with sweet concern. “Gale was just worried about my fever. Once you calm down, we can all sit down and talk like adults.” I didn’t give her a second glance. The driver pulled the door shut. As the heavy glass rolled up, Gale’s final words cut through the narrowing crack. “Walk away, and don’t ever ask me for anything again!” I leaned my head back against the leather seat and closed my eyes. I would never ask him for a single thing again. As the SUV pulled out of the muddy lot, Drew ran up from the command center, slipping a thick, sealed plastic envelope through the driver’s window. “Her personal items. We recovered them from her stranded vehicle.” Inside the pouch was my dead phone, the stamped land-deed contract, and a water-damaged red velvet box. I stared at the velvet box for a long time. Inside was a platinum men’s band. I had planned to give it to him on his upcoming birthday. Lately, he had been complaining about attending industry galas alone, complaining that investors kept asking about his marital status. I had thought: “Once this storm passes, I’ll tell him it’s time. Ten years is long enough. Let me be the one to ask.” Now, there was an answer. Just not the one I had planned for. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon when we reached my family’s estate in the suburbs. My mother was standing on the front porch in her robe, her eyes red and swollen. The moment she saw me limping up the steps, tears spilled down her cheeks. “Josie… my baby…” I opened my mouth, wanting to tell her I was fine. But the moment my foot hit the top step, my knees buckled, and everything went black. When I woke up, the sterile smell of antiseptic filled the air. I was in a private hospital room. My mother sat by the bedside, her eyes heavy and dark. My father stood near the floor-to-ceiling window, holding an unlit cigar between his fingers, his expression dark as thunder. Seeing me open my eyes, my father’s deep voice cut through the silence. “Did Elwin know about your chronic nerve damage in your joints?” I gave a faint nod. My mother let out a quiet sob. “The doctor said if you had stayed in that water another hour, you would have suffered permanent tissue damage in your right leg.” I looked down at the heavy bandages wrapping my knee. Truthfully, the pain had been there for a long time. It was just that in the early years, Gale would sit up with me at night, rubbing heating oil into my joints, boiling ginger water, and lifting me onto the sofa while whispering, “I’m sorry you have to suffer for my dream, Josie.” I had foolishly believed people didn’t change at their core. I was wrong. My father walked over to the bed and placed a thick, leather-bound binder on the nightstand. “The equity proxy agreement for your eighteen percent stake in Vanguard Dynamics—I still have the originals right here.” I stared at the documents, stunned. My father looked down at me, his gaze softening slightly. “Your mother was worried you’d give away everything for love back then. I insisted on holding the proxy in my firm’s vault.” My fingers trembled as I touched the thick paper. I hadn’t just walked away with a damaged body. I had an exit strategy. Before I could process it, the heavy oak door to the private room swung open. Gale stood in the doorway. He was wearing the same rumpled suit from yesterday, holding a paper bag from a high-end breakfast spot, his face lined with exhaustion. “Josie. We need to talk.” My father stepped forward, blocking his path entirely. “Mr. Elwin. Are we talking about civil damages for criminal negligence, or are we discussing the dissolution of your personal relationship?” Gale’s eyes darted past my father, locking onto me. “Josie… you’re getting your parents involved in our relationship now?” My mother let out a harsh, bitter laugh. “Our daughter nearly died in a flash flood because of your neglect. Do you think we’re going to sit back and say nothing?” Gale tightened his grip on the paper bag, his tone softening slightly into a defensive baritone. “Mrs. Marcus, I admit I didn’t handle the evacuation perfectly last night. But the situation on the ridge was chaotic. Brianna was in genuine danger.” I finally spoke up, my voice steady. “So dangerous that she was sitting in a heated truck with dry shoes?” Gale stiffened. Brianna peeked out from behind his shoulder, her eyes instantly brimming with tears. “Josie… please don’t be mad at Gale. I was terrified last night. He was just trying to help a colleague…” I looked past Gale, my gaze landing squarely on her face. “The mountain lodge where you were ‘trapped’ is less than half a mile from the county emergency center. The water on that lower road didn’t exceed six inches.” Her face went chalk white. Gale frowned, looking between us. “You had her background checked?” I let out a faint, humorless smile. “I didn’t have to. The county emergency response team published the sector map online hours ago.” Gale brushed it off as if he hadn’t heard me. “Josie, you’ve become incredibly vindictive.” My mother took a step forward, trembling with rage, but I reached out and gently laid my hand over hers. “Gale,” I said clearly. “I’ve already made myself understood. We are over.” He stared at me, then slammed the breakfast bag onto a side table. “I don’t accept that.” “It doesn’t require your permission.” His voice dropped into a low, desperate register. “Ten years, Josie. You don’t throw away a decade over a misunderstanding. I made a mistake last night, okay? I’ll make it up to you. Whatever you want—a new house, the ring, the wedding we deferred—we can do it all now.” I saw Brianna’s fingers instantly clench around the fabric of her blouse. I saw it. Gale didn’t. Or maybe he did, and simply didn’t care. He genuinely believed money and formal titles could mend every tear in a relationship—just like he used to believe love could overcome poverty. “What if I demand that you cut Brianna out of your company entirely?” I asked softly. “What if I demand you never see her again?” The room fell dead silent. Brianna’s tears overflowed instantly. “Josie… please don’t do this. I don’t have any family here… Gale has just been like an older brother to me…” Gale let out a heavy sigh, looking at me with disappointment. “Josie, don’t force me into making childish ultimatums.” I nodded slowly. “Understood.” His shoulders dropped slightly, assuming I had backed down. The next second, I reached into my bag, pulled out the water-damaged velvet box, and tossed it into the stainless-steel trash can beside the bed. The box hit the plastic liner with a dull, heavy thud. Gale’s face changed instantly. “What was that?” “Your birthday gift,” I replied evenly. “It was soaked in floodwater. It’s ruined.” He reached out to retrieve it, but I caught his sleeve. “It’s filthy, Gale. Leave it.” His chest rose and fell heavily as his breath hitched. “Josie… you really want to burn everything down?” I said nothing more. Outside the open door, heavy, hurried footsteps echoed down the tiled hallway. Drew appeared at the entrance, his face worn with exhaustion from the overnight rescue operation. “Gale, you need to hear this,” Drew said, his voice flat. Gale snapped, his patience entirely exhausted. “Not now, Drew. Out.” Drew didn’t move. He threw a cold, hard glance at Brianna. “Last night, when the secondary unit was preparing to head up the ridge toward Josie’s coordinates, Brianna called the central dispatch directly. She told them the upper pass was entirely clear and that no one was left up there, so the truck redirected straight to her lodge.” Brianna gasped, her voice cracking. “That’s a lie!” Drew pulled out his smartphone and tapped a file. “Dispatch logs record every incoming emergency call. It’s automated.” Gale’s face drained of every drop of color. From the phone’s speaker, Brianna’s sweet, anxious voice played clearly through the silent room: “‘There’s no one on the upper ridge road, it’s just an abandoned vehicle. Josie already walked down hours ago. Please come to the timber lodge first, I’m so scared…’” I closed my eyes. So it wasn’t just that Gale hadn’t come for me. Someone had actively closed the last door of escape behind me. Brianna burst into hysterical tears, grabbing Gale’s arm. “Gale, I didn’t mean to! I thought she had already left! I was so panicked… please believe me!” Gale looked down at her, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. I thought, for a split second, he might ask me if I was hurt. I thought he might feel a flicker of horror. Instead, after a long, agonized silence, he looked up and said quietly, “She’s young and easily frightened, Josie. She didn’t do it out of malice.” A terrible, suffocating quiet settled over the room. I looked at the man I had loved for ten years, and in that single moment, every remaining trace of pain vanished into complete, hollow nothingness. “Gale.” He looked up at me. I pulled the binder off the nightstand, flipped to the signature page of the equity proxy agreement, and signed my name in clear, dark ink. “As of today, I am revoking your proxy rights and formally asserting my eighteen percent founder stake in Vanguard Dynamics.” Gale’s pupils contracted to pinpricks. Before he could speak, the hospital door opened again. My father’s senior corporate attorney stepped inside, opening a crisp leather briefcase. “Mr. Elwin,” the attorney said smoothly. “We have a great deal to discuss.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “554446”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

A week before the summer trip, I marched into the living room clutching a battered tin box and dumped it onto the coffee table in front of my family. Inside sat five hundred and seventy-six reward vouchers—three years’ worth of carefully saved paper tokens. “Mom, Dad, my entrance exam scores came in,” I said, unable to keep the pride out of my voice. “I ranked top three in the state.” I looked at them, my heart beating fast against my ribs. “I met the goal for the Hawaii trip. When do we leave?” I pulled out my phone, eager to show them the swimsuits I’d picked out and the detailed five-person itinerary I’d spent weeks mapping out. I was so caught up in my excitement that I failed to notice the heavy silence settling over my older brother, Mason, or the sudden, downcast shift in my cousin Kelsey’s posture. I talked until my throat felt dry, right up until my mother interrupted me with a sharp, irritated sigh. Her eyes held no pride—only a cold, sharp annoyance. “You know Kelsey couldn’t match your scores,” Mom said, her voice dripping with disdain. “Must you compete with her for everything? Do you have any idea how disgusting you look, rubbing it in her face?” I froze, the air leaving my lungs. It was Mom who had drilled it into my head years ago: “Kelsey lost her parents. We can never make you seem more special than her.” To keep things “fair,” every tiny thing I wanted over the past five years had to be earned through reward vouchers—earned by doing chores or getting perfect test scores. Even the clothes I wore and the notebooks I used were secondhand items Kelsey didn’t want anymore. Desperate, I turned to my father and Mason, searching their faces for support. Both of them avoided my gaze. Instead, they crowded around Kelsey, helping her unbox her massive graduation gift haul: a full Apple ecosystem set, eighteen years’ worth of makeup gift boxes to make up for her lost childhood birthdays, and a row of brand-name handbags. The next morning, a notification popped up in our family group chat. Dad announced that the trip destination had been changed to Disney World in Orlando—because that was where Kelsey wanted to go. I looked at the message, walked over to my desk, and silently tossed the tin box into the trash bin. My parents always said Kelsey was pitiful because she was an orphan, so they had to compensate her with everything. But even though I had a mother, a father, and an older brother, I was worse off than if I had no family at all. If that was how it was going to be, I wasn’t going back to that empty house ever again. … A week later, I pushed open the front door holding a paper bag of warm bakery crullers I’d bought downstairs. The living room was full of life, filled with warm, bright laughter. They were back from Florida. Kelsey was curled up on the couch next to my father, happily scrolling through photos from their trip. As she recounted a story, she cast a mock-annoyed glance at Mason, who was busy breaking down empty cardboard gift boxes on the floor. “It’s all your fault,” Kelsey pouted. “You just “had” to stop for those specialty pastries before we got on the riverboat. Now every single group picture is missing that one perfect spot. It’s such a shame…” Mason chuckled, his voice filled with fond indulgence. “And whose fault was it for being a little foodie?” As they teased each other, my eyes caught the screen of Kelsey’s phone. It was a three-person photo. In the frame sat my father—a man who was usually rigid and severe—wearing a pair of pink Mickey ears, his nose dabbed with red paint in a goofy, comical pose. Next to him, my mother was laughing so hard her eyes were crinkled shut. A dull ache flared behind my ribs. No matter the time or place, they always looked like a complete family without me. I pulled the door shut behind me with a faint click. Mom stepped out of the kitchen carrying a bowl of washed cherries. Her eyes landed on the paper bag in my hand, her brows instantly drawing together. “Kelsey can’t stand the smell of fried food right now,” Mom said coolly. “Go eat that in your room.” The three of them in the living room seemed to notice me only then. Mason’s expression hardened. “Standing in the doorway like a ghost—who are you trying to scare? Can’t you say something when you come in?” Kelsey leaned over, deftly taking a cherry straight from Mom’s hand with a sweet grin. “Thanks, Aunt Nora.” The warm, cozy picture stabbed at my eyes. I turned away without a word and walked back into my bedroom. A moment later, the door pushed open. Mom stepped inside. Acting out of a familiar blend of lingering guilt and defensive entitlement, she shoved a fresh stack of reward vouchers into my palm. “I was a bit harsh with you last time,” she began, her tone rehearsed. “But Kelsey lost her parents so young. If I let you go on a big graduation trip while leaving her behind, she’d feel heartbroken and left out. You’re the sensible one, Sadie. You understand, don’t you? We’ll go another time.” I stared at her back as she turned and left. Ever since we were young, anything Kelsey wanted was handed to her the moment she asked. I, on the other hand, had to do endless housework and hit perfect test scores just to get paper tickets to exchange for basic things. And yet, whether it was a pretty dress or a chicken leg I liked, the moment Kelsey cried, it became hers. This wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. It was almost funny. The rules were only ever meant for me. A little while later, feeling thirsty, I stepped out to grab a glass of water. In the living room, the whole family had gathered around Kelsey to discuss her college applications. Dad proudly declared that he would fund her education no matter how much it cost, while Mason pulled out a three-hundred-page college guide binder he had stayed up all night assembling. “If you pick from this list,” Mason said, pointing to a highlighted page, “they’re all top-tier local programs. You can’t go wrong.” Kelsey’s eyes welled up with delicate tears. “Thank you all so much… If only I were smart like Sadie and scored in the top percentile…” Mom cut her off immediately, pulling her into a protective hug. “Nonsense! What’s the use of scoring that high? At the end of the day, girls just get married anyway. Does a higher test score guarantee a better husband?” Kelsey nestled pitiably into Mom’s arms, shooting me a timid, hurt look. “I just thought… if I could go to the same college as Sadie, we could look out for each other.” Dad slapped his knee without hesitation. “That’s easy enough!” Mason chimed in from the side. “You pick first, Kelsey. Once you choose your program, Sadie can apply there too.” My hand holding the water glass trembled. I turned to face them, my voice dropping several degrees. “On what grounds?” My scores were high enough to get me into top Ivy League institutions like Columbia—a guaranteed path to a real future. Why should I drag myself down to a local community college just to keep her company? Hearing my tone, Mom’s face turned icy. “If you go somewhere far away, who’s going to protect you when you get bullied? If you go to the same school as Kelsey, our whole family can move over there to take care of both of you. Everyone is trying to look out for you—what are you being so dramatic about?!” My knuckles turned white around the glass. Looking out for me? Strip away the excuses, and they were simply terrified that Kelsey’s delicate ego would bruise if I went somewhere better. I unclasped my tight jaw and stopped arguing. Back in my room, I picked up my phone and dialed my high school advisor’s number. “Mrs. Albright,” I said softly, “I’ll take the full-ride offer to Columbia.” The next morning, during breakfast, the atmosphere was unusually calm. Taking my silence from the night before as consent to follow Kelsey to community college, my mother did something rare: she fried an egg and placed it over my plain noodle bowl—without asking for a single voucher. Mason and Dad were noticeably warmer, talking about taking me out to a high-end restaurant to celebrate my college admission. Sitting nearby, Kelsey munched on her poached beef, raising a hand with a bright smile. “Let me pick the dishes for Sadie! Let’s go to that French place on Main Street.” When we arrived, every single dish ordered under the guise of “celebrating me” was a heavily spiced, rich plate that Kelsey loved—and that I couldn’t stomach. Even more absurdly, the family had spent hours waiting for Kelsey to finish her makeup and outfit before heading out. Before leaving the house, they had insisted on going together as a family. Yet, by the time I stepped out of the bathroom, the living room was empty. They had already driven off. Not a single text came through to tell me where the restaurant was. That night, I sat alone in my pitch-black, silent bedroom, chewing on the cold leftovers from earlier, scrolling through Kelsey’s latest social media update. In the photo, she was holding a giant lobster plate, leaning her cheek against Mom’s. Her eyes were curved into happy crescents. “Family dinner! Aunt Nora feels more like a mom than my real mom ever did~” Beside her, Mason and Dad were casually dropping freshly shelled shrimp onto her plate, radiant with familial warmth. I let out a quiet breath, strangely relieved that I hadn’t been there to ruin their mood. I remembered when Kelsey first moved in with us—it happened to fall on my birthday. I had begged my mother to take us to a hot pot restaurant to celebrate. On the way there, Mom had sat in the back seat, smiling as she played string games with me. But when the cake was brought out at the restaurant and Kelsey saw my name written across the frosted surface, she burst into loud sobs, clutching my mother’s arm and crying about how much she missed her own parents. Without a second thought, Mom picked up a butter knife and scraped my name off the cake. Then she made Dad and Mason sing Happy Birthday to Kelsey instead. “From now on,” Mom had declared back then, “even when it’s not your birthday, you get to eat cake too.” I was supposed to be the main character that day, but I ended up a silent bystander. Afterward, Mom handed me my very first set of reward vouchers. Five of them. Just like the stack lying in front of me now. Mom snatched the vouchers off the nightstand and threw them straight at my face, staring at me with sudden anger. “Sadie, what kind of game are you playing now? Kelsey specifically picked that restaurant for you—why didn’t you show up?” The sharp edge of the paper scraped against my cheek, leaving a faint, stinging sensation. But inside, the turbulence in my heart was slowly settling into a quiet, dead calm. “Was it really my choice not to go?” I asked softly. Mom paused, realization dawning on her that they had simply left me behind. But almost instantly, her embarrassment twisted into disgust. She slammed the takeout container onto my desk, her face hardening. “Well, who’s to blame for that? You were taking forever. We’ll make it up to you next time.” I didn’t answer. At my father’s call from the hallway, Mom turned and headed straight into Kelsey’s room. They had just bought a brand-new, high-end gaming console worth thousands of dollars. A family of four, diving into interactive video games, their laughter echoing through the thin walls. I clutched my abdomen as a sharp, searing pain tore through my lower stomach. Cold sweat broke out across my forehead. Shaking, I pulled out my phone and used an online medical service, describing my symptoms through gritted teeth. The doctor’s response came quickly: “Suspected acute appendicitis. Go to the emergency room immediately.” Pale and bent double, I limped over to Kelsey’s bedroom and knocked on the door, hoping Dad could drive me to the hospital on his scooter. A few minutes later, Mason opened the door, his face dark with annoyance. Hearing my request, he let out a harsh laugh. “Your stomach hurts? You’re just jealous that everyone’s hanging out with Kelsey. Stop faking an illness just to draw attention.” “I’m not…” I shook my head, too weak to fight back, my fingers digging harder into my side. Mom, worried that the commotion would distract Kelsey from her game, reached under the TV stand, pulled out a leftover packet of flu powder, and tossed it at me. “You probably chilled your stomach eating cold leftovers. It won’t kill you. Just tough it out.” I chewed the dry powder and swallowed it down, but the pain only multiplied. Left with no choice, I crawled back to my room, pulled out the piggy bank hidden under my bed, and smashed it on the floor. Scooping up roughly seventy dollars in crumpled bills and coins, I stumbled out the door to take a taxi to the hospital alone. The test results were terrible. The doctor held my chart, his brow deeply furrowed. “You have severe tissue inflammation caused by an untreated infection. We need a family member’s signature for an immediate appendectomy. If we wait any longer and the appendix ruptures, fluid will flood your abdominal cavity, and it’s going to get dangerous.” Cold dread washed over me, climbing up my spine. I dialed my mother’s phone number, my fingers trembling so badly I missed the keys multiple times. It went unanswered. It wasn’t until my fifty-eighth call home that Mason finally picked up. Before I could open my mouth, a barrage of sharp scolding hit my ear. “Are you out of your mind?! If she’s not picking up, it means she doesn’t want to talk to you! Your constant ringing has distracted Kelsey three times already! Whatever it is, talk about it later—stop calling!” When I tried dialing again, the line went straight to a busy tone. He had blocked my number. In desperation, I called my high school advisor, Mrs. Albright. The moment she heard my shaky, gasping breath, she caught an Uber and rushed to the hospital. She signed the authorization forms, paid the advance deposit out of her own pocket, and handled everything with unwavering care. Right before I was wheeled into the operating room, sensing my panic, Mrs. Albright gently patted my hair. “Don’t be afraid, sweetie. Just close your eyes and sleep.” When the anesthesia wore off and I opened my eyes, there were two extra people in the hospital room. Mason stood by the bed. There was no relief or concern in his eyes—only accusation. “Out of all the times to get surgery, you had to pick the exact day Kelsey booked her graduation photo shoot,” he sneered. “I really can’t tell if you did this on purpose or if you’re just that spiteful.” Mom shot him a warning look, gesturing for him to pipe down. “Your sister is sick, why are you shouting? Your father is with Kelsey at the studio. Our job is to stay here and take care of Sadie.” Her words sounded nice, but when my throat felt parched and I asked for a sip of water, Mason was busy picking photo filters on his phone for Kelsey, and Mom was on a video call helping Kelsey choose photoshoot dresses. Neither of them had their eyes on me for a single second. In the end, it was a delivery driver bringing broth to the next bed who noticed me. He poured a small cup of warm water and brought it to my lips so I could wet my dry throat. “Little girl,” the driver murmured, looking at the two people by the window, “are those your real family? Why are they both glued to their phones instead of looking after a patient?” Mom and Mason’s faces turned instantly uncomfortable. Once the delivery driver left, Mason glared at me. “Always playing the tragic victim. It’s just a cup of water—if people didn’t know better, they’d think we were abusing you.” Mom didn’t correct him, clearly agreeing with his sentiment. Still, she opened a container of takeout broth and brought a spoon to my mouth. It was seafood broth—something I was severely allergic to. When I turned my head away, she seemed to find the perfect excuse to vent her frustration. Her face darkened. “What kind of petty mood are you throwing now? You dragged out this whole hospital thing just to ruin our day with Kelsey, didn’t you? Drink it or don’t!” With that, the two of them snapped the lid shut and walked out of the room in anger. The older woman in the neighboring bed, who had watched the entire scene unfold, looked at me in disbelief. “Are those really your mother and brother?” “Yeah,” I whispered, forcing a small smile as I fought back the hot prickle of tears in my eyes. “Though… I kind of wish they weren’t.” Over the next few days, my recovery in the hospital was marked by their brief, fleeting appearances. When I was finally able to get out of bed and walk around, I scrolled through social media and saw Kelsey’s posts. During the time I was stuck in the hospital, the whole family had been taking her to check out viral food spots, buy designer clothes, and attend concerts. Of course, Mom sent me a photo too—a picture of my desk at home, where a growing stack of reward vouchers was piled up. “When you get better, we’ll all go together next time.” Looking at the photo, my heart remained entirely flat. I walked to the nurse’s station and processed my own discharge papers. Coincidentally, as I stepped out of the hospital doors, Mrs. Albright called me. Beyond confirming that my full-ride paperwork to Columbia was fully finalized, she mentioned a bank transfer. “Given your family’s situation, the school raised a emergency fund of four thousand dollars for your tuition and initial living expenses, so you can focus entirely on your degree.” Staring at the figure, a wave of warmth surged through my chest, making my eyes sting. But a second later, I went completely rigid. Mrs. Albright’s cheerful voice came through the receiver: “The funds were wired over this morning. Did you get the bank notification?” I checked my empty text inbox, and sudden realization hit me like cold water—I hadn’t set up my own independent bank account yet. When submitting my school paperwork earlier, I had used my mother’s secondary account. A bad feeling seized me. I rushed onto a city bus and headed straight home. When I pushed open the front door, the living room was packed with visiting relatives, all gathered around Mom and Kelsey. “Back when Kelsey’s parents passed away,” my aunt was saying loudly, “if it weren’t for Nora taking her in, she’d never have had such a good life.” “Exactly! Nora really treats her like her own flesh and blood.” “Oh, look, Sadie’s back!” I ignored my aunt completely, walking straight up to my mother and extending my hand. “Where is the money?” The lively atmosphere plunged into a dead silence. Mom’s face went cold. “What money? Does this family not pay for your schooling? You need charity donations now? Or do you think you’re hot stuff, thinking four thousand dollars is enough to make you completely independent?” Regardless of what she thought, that money belonged to me. I steeled my gaze, repeating every word clearly: “The four thousand dollars. Give it to me.” Seeing the tension, Kelsey stepped forward with a gentle, understanding air, tugging softly at my sleeve. She pointed toward an unopened, high-end computer graphics card sitting on the living room table. “I’m so sorry, Sadie… Aunt Nora was a little short on cash when she bought my new setup, so she used that money to cover the final balance. If you really need it right now, I can take it back to the store and return it.” Mom pulled Kelsey back instantly. “Return what?! It was bought for you, so you keep it!” Mom turned her harsh glare onto me. “She’s going to be staying at home anyway—what does she need that much cash on her for? If anything happens, the family is right here to handle it.” She reached into her pocket, pulled out another handful of reward vouchers, and shoved them into my hands. She said she was just “borrowing” the money from me and would make it up to me later. This time, I looked down at the worthless slips of paper in my palm, and the final trace of warmth in my heart died out. In front of the entire family, I tossed the vouchers directly into the trash bin, turned on my heel, and walked out the door. If Kelsey was always going to be their first choice, then I would become my own. That evening, a group of relatives stayed over, talking and laughing around Kelsey in the living room. My mother walked into my bedroom alone, her eyes immediately catching the metal tin sitting inside the trash can. She picked it up and opened the lid. Seeing the box packed to the brim with years of saved reward vouchers, her heart sank slightly. She looked around the sparse, bare room—at the tiny desk, the thin blanket, the complete lack of anything new—and for the very first time, a wave of discomfort hit her as she realized how thoroughly I had been set aside all these years. Standing there in the quiet, she pulled out her phone and sent me several voice notes. “Sadie, it’s dark out. It’s not safe for a girl to be out alone. Whatever it is, come home and we can talk.” “About the four thousand dollars… it was Mom’s mistake. I transferred it back to your account.” “Kelsey’s already been to Disney World, so this time we’ll go to Hawaii. I’ll have your brother book the flights right now…” I sat on a bench outside, watching the messages pop up one by one on my screen. My heart didn’t flutter; my eyes didn’t tear up. Some things, if you didn’t get them when they mattered, lose all meaning later on.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “554429”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On my wedding night, my husband, Gavin, died suddenly in bed, leaving me a multi-billion-dollar estate. Everyone urged me to remarry while I was still young. My best friend even secretly set me up with a guy—broad shoulders, narrow waist. He wasn’t as handsome or wealthy as Gavin, but he was young and attentive. On the day he proposed to me, floating live-chat comments suddenly flared across my vision. [Don’t accept the proposal! Your best friend introduced him on purpose! She knows your late husband’s spirit is right beside you!] [The second you take that ring, you confirm you’re a gold-digging, unfaithful snake!] [Your ex-husband turns completely dark from betrayal. When he returns to life, you’re the first one he strangles!] [And your “best friend” saves his broken soul, claiming his devotion and his billions for herself. They live happily ever after for forty years—a storybook romance.] Looking at the man holding out a diamond ring, I paused for a few seconds and chose to believe the floating text. I slapped him across the face. … Dylan clutched his cheek, reflexively shouting at me. “Are you out of your mind? I’m asking you to marry me! What the hell is wrong with you?” I didn’t have time to process his sudden shift in demeanor. Gavin was a possessively intense man. When he was five, he got into a fight at school. His father boasted that with their wealth, he could have anything in the world—yet Gavin only ever clung to me. That was when I gained a “brother.” He took care of me like a mini-adult. From the time I was one until I turned eighteen, even my mother complained that he kept too tight a leash on me. Gavin never paid her any mind. When I was nineteen, a local thug on the street merely whistled at me. Gavin had every delinquent in the neighborhood run out of Charleston overnight—a move that kept the city on the “Top Safest Cities” list for five consecutive years. Honestly, at first I didn’t believe the floating text overlay. Because on our wedding night, I had held Gavin until his body turned ice-cold and rigid. I watched with my own eyes as his coffin was sealed and lowered into the ground. But considering I was literally seeing floating text in mid-air—something equally absurd—what if it was real? Realizing Gavin’s ghost had been watching me with Dylan for three months made me shudder uncontrollably. Even the gentle breeze felt frigid. “Cass,” my best friend, Whitney, looked at me in total confusion. “You and Dylan have been together for months. You said it yourself—you two fit together like a favorite sweater. Isn’t marriage the natural next step? What’s going on with you?” Before I could answer, a burst of text rolled across my field of vision out of the corner of my eye. A chill ran down my spine. [Saying you fit together like old clothes right in front of the dead husband? She’s implying you’re completely intimate inside and out!] [For three months, he’s been following you. He’s heard plenty of this. Accepting the ring is the final straw that breaks him.] In hindsight, I realized Whitney “had” constantly dropped loaded, suggestive hints in front of me. I had never actually done anything with Dylan. I used to think it was just cheeky girl-talk between best friends. Now I saw it clearly: if Gavin’s ghost was truly standing beside me, she was deliberately provoking him—trying to turn his devotion into toxic hatred toward me. “When did I ever say that?” It was perhaps the first time I had ever called her out. Whitney’s face froze slightly. “Well, Whitney’s not wrong,” Dylan said, his expression a mix of confusion and impatience. “We were bound to be that close sooner or later. What is wrong with you today? I love you, and you love me. Why won’t you accept my proposal? Don’t you want me by your side? Could you really bear to walk away from us?” More comments flashed in the air: [The girl he actually loves is your best friend. He even bought the ring in HER size, then lied saying he was nervous and got the wrong size!] [Three days! He revives in three days! Don’t fall for their words!] I grabbed the ring from Dylan’s hand. Ignoring the barrage of glowing text, I slid it onto my best friend’s ring finger. A perfect, flawless fit. Dylan visibly panicked. “It… it was my first time proposing. I was so nervous that I got the wrong size.” Even his exact line matched the text. A deep dread settled in my chest. If the comments were right about Gavin returning in three days, and if I had accepted Dylan’s proposal, I wouldn’t just miss out on the multi-billion-dollar estate—I’d be choked to death by a husband consumed by vengeance. If he was coming back in three days, I’d wait and see if it was real! “You’ve misunderstood,” I said coldly, looking at Dylan’s expectant face. “I only ever saw you as a friend.” “A friend?” Dylan looked utterly stunned. A moment later, he grabbed my hand, adopting a helpless, patient tone. “Cass, don’t be petty. I know you’re upset about the ring. We can go pick out a new one right now!” Whitney also took my hand, smiling gently. “He’s right. He was just nervous. Just say yes so you two can get married—then my mind will finally be at ease.” [Of course she’ll be at ease. Once the ring is on, your ex-husband goes on a killing spree.] [She’s ruthless. And you never did a single thing to wrong her.] Looking at the face I had known for ten years, I suddenly felt like I was looking at a complete stranger. “Why are you so desperate for me to marry him?” Whitney blinked, caught off guard. “What has gotten into you today? Didn’t you always say how much you liked Dylan? You said he was young, that you were sick of Gavin’s old-man energy, that you and Dylan…” Gavin was only two years older than me, but his demeanor made him seem far more mature. He loved buying me soft, pastel-colored clothes. Outsiders often misunderstood, thinking he was much older. Once, an admirer taunted him, calling him an “old man,” which drove Gavin so wild with fury he ended up hospitalized from high blood pressure. “I’m older than you,” he had once whispered to me. “If I die before you, there won’t be anyone left to protect you.” That had always been a thorn in his heart. And I had “never” once expressed disgust toward him. She was fabricating lies! Gritting my teeth, I slapped Whitney hard across the face. The next second, Dylan shoved me to the ground. “Are you insane?! Whitney isn’t in good health—how could you hit her?!” He pulled the startled Whitney into his arms, his eyes brimming with concern. He didn’t even glance down at me where I lay on the floor. I wasn’t stupid; I knew where his true priorities lay. “The ring was my mistake,” Dylan snapped. “If you’re mad, take it out on me. Don’t blame Whitney!” In his haste, all his masks slipped away. Dylan didn’t love me at all. I said nothing, looking down at my scraped, swelling knee. Noticing my injury, Dylan froze for a split second, then belatedly came over to pull me up, guilt flickering in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Cass. Let me take you to the hospital right now.” I dodged his reaching hand. “Whitney looks so pale. You should take her first.” Dylan opened his mouth, thought of something, and nodded hastily. “Fine. I’ll drop Whitney at urgent care, then come back for you. We’ll go pick out a ring together afterward.” He swept Whitney up into his arms and rushed off. When I went to the urgent care clinic to get my knee bandaged, I ran into them again. Dylan was leaning over Whitney, gently massaging her temples with his thumb—just as he used to do for me. After Gavin died, I had been consumed by grief. A multi-billion-dollar fortune dropped into the lap of an unprotected woman was a ticking time bomb. Extended relatives hurled insults and plotted against me; combined with the grief of losing my husband, I hadn’t even dared to step out of the house. That was when Whitney brought Dylan into my life. He stayed by my side, pulling me out of the dark shadow. I loved Gavin, but he was gone; I had no choice but to bury my love deep inside. I had genuinely believed Dylan was sincere. “Cass!” Dylan’s eyes lit up when he saw me, and he walked over quickly. “Don’t worry, Whitney’s fine—she was just startled. Let’s go pick out a ring now. Whitney has great taste; she’ll help pick the best one for you.” “I’m not marrying you,” I said flatly. His expression stiffened. “I made one small mistake—why can’t you forgive me? To marry you, I even sold my childhood home in my hometown just to put down a deposit on a townhouse for us.” He pulled a keycard from his pocket and offered it to me. “Cass, I’ll work hard to be a good husband and make you forget all your past pain.” [Yeah, and YOU get to pay the mortgage while HE never works a day in his life.] [He’ll demand the newest sports car, and when you die, he won’t even claim your body.] I let out a cold laugh. “Did you buy it in full?” Dylan looked like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. “Well… it’s a mortgage, but I’ll pay it off myself! Cass, you have to trust me!” Whitney suddenly let out a soft sigh. “I know you care about money, Cass. Back then, you told me that if Gavin hadn’t been so wealthy, you never would have married a controlling freak like him. You said Dylan was different—that you actually loved Dylan, but never loved Gavin.” I smiled coldly. Whitney’s expression relaxed slightly, thinking she had won. “Once you and Dylan are married, you’ll be family. Who pays the mortgage doesn’t matter.” Dylan smiled too. “Yeah, we’re family. Don’t be so distant. As for Gavin, stop dwelling on him. You hated how he controlled every aspect of your life anyway. Now that he’s dead, you should be happy. No one can stop us from being together now.” [Wife using her own money to support another man… the ex-husband is about to pass out from rage.] [Stop digging your own grave! Tell these two snakes to get lost!] “Finished?” I asked quietly. Dylan blinked, nodding. The next second, I slapped him across the face. Whitney gasped. Before she could speak, I slapped her too. “You helped me through my grief, and I appreciated that. But you have no right to insult Gavin! I loved him with everything I had, and I never, ever resented him!” I glared at Whitney. “You keep fabricating these vicious lies. Anyone listening would think Gavin’s ghost was standing right here, and you were deliberately trying to make him hate me!” Whitney’s eyes quivered. Cold sweat broke out on her forehead. “Gavin is dead! How could he be here? And… and you “did” say those things! You just… you just forgot…” I didn’t bother arguing further. The more said, the worse it got. If Gavin really was beside me, these lies were slashing at his heart. I turned and walked away. Behind me, Dylan yelled in frustration, “Cassidy! I’ve already notified both our families! The invitations are sent out! The wedding is in two days! Go home and pull yourself together! Don’t make your mother worry—her health isn’t good!” … I returned to the estate Gavin and I had shared. The staff stayed on the ground floor; I was alone on the second floor. Lying in bed, I felt an icy chill permeating the entire room. [Your ex-husband is staring right at you.] Seeing the text, panic surged through me. I frantically pulled out Gavin’s framed photograph, clutching it to my chest as I declared to the empty room, “Gavin, my love… you’re the only one I’ve ever loved, from start to finish.” Eventually, I drifted into a fitful sleep, only to see Gavin in my dream. His obsidian eyes were fixed on me, unblinking. His icy fingers clamped around my jaw, repeating over and over: “You lied to me.” My lips trembled as I tried to explain, but suddenly his hands shifted to my throat, squeezing tightly. “Ah!” I snapped open my eyes, gasping for air. Drenched in cold sweat, I ran to the bathroom mirror. There were no marks on my neck, but the sensation of suffocation was terrifyingly real. “No… I didn’t take Dylan’s ring. Gavin won’t kill me.” I splashed cold water on my face, trying to reassure myself. Dylan hadn’t just invited relatives; he had sent invitations to his former college classmates and even leaked news to online followers who tracked my life after Gavin’s death. A widow moving on after just three months? Online commentators assumed I had trapped Gavin in a honeypot scheme, swarming my social media accounts to label me a husband-killing leech. Trembling with anger, I posted a video clarifying that I had no intention of ever remarrying. Nobody believed me. To catch a break, I went back to my mother’s home. My mother had cooked a full table of dishes. Just as I picked up my fork to eat, the floating comments flared again. [Your mom is furious that you won’t give your money for your brother’s wedding dowry, so she sold you out! The food is laced with muscle relaxants. Once you eat, she’s dragging you straight to the venue to marry Dylan!] [He paid her $500,000 in cash. Whether you want to or not, you’re getting married. Your ex-husband is about to go full villain mode!] My hand froze in mid-air. I hadn’t given my brother money because his girlfriend was a known scammer; I didn’t want my family swindled. Besides, during our marriage, Gavin had given my family generous financial support, telling me he would take care of my parents so I wouldn’t have to stress. And now, my own mother was selling me out for half a million dollars. “Mom,” I said, setting my fork down. “I’m not marrying Dylan.” Her face instantly turned dark. She clutched her chest, gasping as if suffocated by grief. My heart pinched, but before I could speak, she snapped, “If you don’t marry him, who else will take you?! Look at the internet—everyone says you cursed your husband! If you don’t marry Dylan, you’ll die alone! The venue is booked! The invites are out! If you refuse now, you’ll make our entire family a laughingstock! Parents decide marriage—if I say you marry, you marry!” I gripped my fork tightly, my heart turning to ice. “I’m leaving.” The moment I stood up, darkness swept over my eyes, and I collapsed onto the floor. “Good thing I put some in the incense room diffuser too,” my mother chuckled triumphantly. She locked me in the attic for two full days. Strangely, during those two days, the floating text didn’t appear once. Until my mother dragged me to the wedding venue. Through the bustling crowd, my eyes caught a tall, familiar figure standing near the back. Gavin had actually returned to life! Everything the comments said was true! Thinking about how Whitney and Dylan had spent the last three months manipulating me, treating me like a naive fool, tears stung my eyes. Instinctively, I took a step toward Gavin. “Cass!” Dylan grabbed my hand, forcing his fingers through mine in a tight grip. To onlookers, we looked like a doting couple. “I knew you’d come. You do love me after all.” I looked into Gavin’s distant eyes. My teeth chattered, but I lacked the physical strength to shake Dylan off. “Dylan, are you insane? I never agreed to…” He squeezed my shoulder so hard I thought the bone would snap, though he maintained a bright, loving smile—the picture of a devoted groom whispering sweet nothings to his bride. “Be good now. It’s time for our ceremony.” He dragged me onto the stage. I turned my head, silently pleading toward Gavin with my eyes. If he had been following me as a ghost, he had to know I was being forced! I didn’t want to die. “Gavin…” Before I could say more, Whitney stepped up, blocking my view. “Are you out of your mind, Cass? Gavin is dead! The man standing beside you now is Dylan, your husband.” I was brought up to the altar by Dylan and Whitney. Gavin remained in the crowd, watching me silently. His expression was unreadable, but a bone-chilling coldness swept through me. He didn’t believe me. Why would he? Dylan and Whitney had staged everything so convincingly. But I refused to accept this fate. Mustering every ounce of strength left in my body, biting my lip until blood pooled in my mouth, I forcefully shoved Dylan and Whitney away. “I won’t marry him!” “Cassidy!” Whitney shouted, her voice shrill with reprimand. “Stop acting out! You’re over three months pregnant! Do you want your baby to be born without a father?!” My head thundered. I stared at her in utter disbelief. “What ridiculous lie are you telling now?! I’m not pregnant!” Whitney’s mother stepped forward, sighing dramatically. “Cass, how can you lie like that? I personally accompanied you for your ultrasound yesterday—the paperwork is right here!” The ultrasound scan was suddenly projected onto the large screen behind the altar. Before I could open my mouth, the room exploded into whispers and gasps. “Gavin’s only been dead three months, and she’s nearly four months along? That means she was cheating on him while he was alive!” “How shameless! How could she take his inheritance after betraying him like that?” “If Gavin knew, he’d rise from the grave just to tear her apart!” Vicious accusations and pointing fingers assailed my ears. I shouted explanations, even beating my own stomach to prove I wasn’t pregnant, but nobody listened. “Honey, I beg you,” Dylan fell to his knees before me, his eyes bloodshot, performing his role to perfection. “It’s my fault for upsetting you, but please don’t hurt our child.” Seeing me stand motionless, my mother rushed up and slapped me hard across the face. “Have you had enough?!” she shrieked. “You’re carrying his child—how much longer are you going to throw a tantrum?! Haven’t you humiliated us enough?! With a reputation like yours, Dylan is the only decent man willing to take you!” My cheek burned with sharp pain. A bitter realization washed over me: nothing I said mattered. Whitney wanted Gavin to see me as an unfaithful monster so he would kill me, leaving her to claim the status of his wealthy widow. Dylan loved Whitney, so he danced to her tune. My biological mother hated me for withholding money from my brother, so she sold me out for half a million dollars. And Gavin… had witnessed what looked like complete betrayal by his wife. They all wanted a specific narrative. Nobody cared about the truth. Through the noise, a man wearing a black face mask stepped out from the crowd and stopped right in front of me. Remembering the floating text, the dream, and the terrifying sensation of being strangled, I began to tremble uncontrollably. “How could you not believe me?” I gasped, tears falling. “I thought you were dead… Dylan and I…” Red veins streaked his dark eyes. His vein-popped hand lifted, tracing lightly across my cheek before he whispered, “Congratulations.” Then, his fingers closed brutally around my throat. The familiar feeling of suffocation returned. I gripped his wrist with all my remaining strength, forcing out a single sentence through my constricted airway. In an instant, the expressions on everyone’s faces changed.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “554447”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The first time I found a necklace tucked under the passenger seat of my fiancé’s car, his mother called me herself to explain. “Mallory, sweetheart, you’re overthinking it. I accidentally dropped that necklace in Jason’s car last weekend.” The second time, it was two movie ticket stubs. His best friend tagged me in a group chat before I could even bring it up: Don’t get any crazy ideas, sister-in-law. I had Jason buy those tickets for me. The third time, the fourth time… every single instance after that, someone stepped out from the shadows with a neat, airtight explanation ready. Until the ninth time. I pulled a tube of designer lipstick from the gap between the leather seats and held it up right in front of his face. “Whose is this?” Jason’s hands on the steering wheel gave a micro-flinch, almost imperceptible. Then, with practiced ease, he dialed a number on speakerphone. “Hey, who left a tube of lipstick in my car?” The voices on the other end belonged to my own younger brother and my absolute best friend. “Jason? Oh, man, so that’s where it went!” my brother, Colin, laughed into the receiver. “Samantha searched all over for that shade. But seriously, Sis, are you getting paranoid again? What did everyone say at the last dinner? If you keep making these baseless scenes, maybe you two shouldn’t even get married.” Samantha jumped right in, her tone dripping with exasperation. “Exactly, Mallory. Jason treats you like a queen and you know it. You’re really pushing it this time.” The line went dead. Jason turned to me, his expression a picture of gentle, wounded innocence. “See? Will you finally stop doubting me now?” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “This is the ninth time, Mallory. If you’re going to throw a tantrum over every tiny thing, maybe we really should reconsider the wedding…” I looked at him, feeling a sudden, icy calm wash over me. I smiled and cut him off. “Then let’s not bother. Let’s cancel the whole thing.” What Jason didn’t know was that the lipstick didn’t belong to some secret mistress. Nor did it belong to Samantha. I had bought it myself and intentionally dropped it down the seat cushion. It was my final test—a trap designed to see just how far everyone in my life would go to cover up his affair. … “I’ve already called the venue and canceled the reception,” I said quietly. “Make sure you notify your friends and family.” Jason slammed on the brakes so hard the tires screeched against the asphalt. “Mallory, are you out of your mind?!” He spun around to face me, his face darkening completely. “What, now you don’t even believe your own brother and best friend? Is that it?” He leaned closer, his voice laced with venomous disgust. “Maybe you really do need to see a psychiatrist. Normal people don’t love like this. You won’t even trust your own blood—how the hell am I supposed to prove my innocence to you?” “If we don’t even have basic trust, what is the point of this marriage?” Before I could answer, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the caller ID, and the harsh aggression on his face melted instantly into something agonizingly soft. “I have business to attend to,” he said, staring straight ahead. “Go home and reflect on your behavior. I’ll pretend this conversation never happened today.” The black Mercedes sped away without a second glance, leaving me standing alone on the curb. I didn’t go home. I hailed a cab and followed the signal from the location tracker I had slipped into his car weeks ago. Half an hour later, the tracker stopped at an upscale waterfront restaurant overlooking the bay. Through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, I watched a lavish, bustling party in full swing—a baby’s one-month milestone celebration. The dining room was filled with familiar faces, clinking glasses, laughing, celebrating. And at the center of it all sat a woman holding a newborn. Around her neck was the very pearl necklace I had found in Jason’s car the first time. Tied in her hair was the velvet scrunchie I had pulled from his coat pocket the third time… When my eyes finally locked onto her face, the fragile composure I had maintained for weeks shattered into dust. It was her. A month ago, while I was on shift as a surgeon, an IV bag issue led to a minor blood reflux in a patient. It was a routine clinical hiccup, easily fixed, but the patient’s family used it to accuse me of medical negligence, taking their complaint straight to the hospital board. During the heated confrontation in the hallway, the patient’s bodyguard shoved me hard against a metal cart. My right wrist fractured on impact, and the hospital suspended me pending an investigation. And now, right inside that glass room, stood my brother, Colin—the devoted defense attorney who had supposedly been working day and night to clear my name from that lawsuit. He was currently smiling, eagerly taking shots of liquor on behalf of that very same woman. Beside him was Samantha—my best friend, who had supposedly screamed at hospital administrators on my behalf and stayed up late writing my appeal. She was bustling around the dining room, happily greeting guests for the mother. And then there was Jason, who just minutes ago had shouted at me about basic trust and innocence. “Jason, you’re late!” someone teased from the main table. “Aren’t you going to make it up to the mother of your child?” Smiling, Jason wrapped his arm around the woman’s waist, leaned down, and kissed her deeply on the lips as the room erupted into cheers. Every single piece of the puzzle fell into place with brutal, agonizing clarity. They were her family. It was them who had inflated a minor medical mistake into a career-ending scandal, just to ruin me, to strip away my livelihood. A wave of nausea hit me, followed by a searing, burning heat that rushed to my face. To be lied to, manipulated, and played like a fool by the people I loved most in this world… I had never known a humiliation so absolute. My phone vibrated in my hand. It was a notification from the hospital’s human resources portal: [Dr. King, your transfer request has been approved. Please report to Oakridge Community Hospital in three days.] I stared at the glowing screen, a dry, hollow laugh escaping my throat. Fine. There was nothing left in this city worth staying for anyway. In three days, whatever was left between Jason and me would officially die. I turned away, my chest heavy as lead, unable to watch the nauseating display a second longer. But before I could take three steps, a voice called out behind me. “Dr. King? Did you come all this way to celebrate our little Toby’s milestone?” Bridget hurried out of the restaurant, her face flushed with excitement. “I thought you were still angry with us and wouldn’t come,” she continued seamlessly, grabbing my arm. “Don’t hold a grudge against my family, okay? They were just overprotective of me when the IV incident happened. It was all a big misunderstanding! Today is perfect—let me introduce everyone to you properly so we can clear the air.” She pulled me toward the glass doors before I could pull back. “Hey, everyone! Look who’s here!” Bridget announced cheerfully. The noise in the room died down instantly. All eyes turned toward us. When Jason, Colin, and Samantha saw me, the triumphant smiles on their faces froze into horrific masks. “This is my close friend, Samantha,” Bridget said, pointing to Sam. “She works in psychiatry at your hospital. You two must have crossed paths, right?” Samantha’s eyes darted nervously. She cleared her throat, her voice cold and formal. “Dr. King. Good to see you.” Distance, professionalism, as if we were complete strangers. Bridget didn’t notice the tension and dragged me over to Colin. “And this is my college bestie, Colin. He’s the idiot lawyer who filed that claim against you! But don’t worry, I gave him a piece of my mind. Don’t hold it against him.” Colin’s face turned deathly pale. His lips trembled. “Sis…” His voice was barely a whisper, drowned out by the ambient chatter. Bridget missed it entirely. Finally, she brought me right in front of Jason, wrapping her arm around his waist and nestling into his chest. “And this is my husband. He’s—” “Jason,” I interrupted, my voice crystal clear. “The owner of this restaurant.” Bridget blinked, looking back and forth between Jason and me. “How did you know that? Have you met before?” I met Jason’s panicked, warning glare head-on, letting a quiet, icy smile spread across my face. “Because he’s my fiancé. We’ve been together for seven years, and we were supposed to get married in two months.” I stepped closer to Bridget. “And as for this restaurant? He bought it for me as my twenty-sixth birthday gift because I once said I wished I could watch the ocean every day. Six months ago, he told me his business was struggling, so I let him sell it to raise capital. Did he forget to mention any of that to you?” “Dr. King, what kind of sick joke is this?” Bridget’s eyes welled with tears. “Jason and I got married a year ago! How could he be your fiancé? What is going on?!” Jason went instantly pale. “Bridget, babe, listen to me, I can explain—” A cold, dead sensation filled my chest. The man who had just demanded my trust was now scrambling only to comfort his secret wife. I laughed out loud—a harsh, jagged sound that cut through the room as I laid out every truth I had guarded for years. “He has a long surgical scar on his lower back from four years ago—he took a knife for me during an attack by an unstable patient,” I said, my voice echoing across the quiet room. “And the silver cross pendant he wears around his neck? I hiked up the mountain shrine in the rain to get it blessed for his heart condition.” I looked straight at Bridget. “So yes, you are the mistress he’s been keeping behind my back.” “Mallory, that’s enough!” Three voices shouted in unison, sharp and furious. Jason pushed Bridget behind him, his eyes filled with murderous ice. Samantha and Colin glared at me with pure condemnation. “Did I say something untrue?” I asked, my voice trembling despite my best efforts. “Jason, Samantha, Colin—are you all really so brave in your betrayal, but too cowardly to own up to it?” Jason wrapped a tight arm around Bridget, who was now weeping hysterically. “Mallory, Bridget didn’t know anything about this! If you have a problem, take it out on me! Don’t you dare talk to her like that!” Samantha stepped forward, her tone sharp as a razor. “Mallory, stop making a scene! Jason stopped loving you a long time ago. He and Bridget are true love!” And then my own brother, the boy I had raised after our parents died, took a breath and looked me in the eye. “Sis, since you know the truth now, just let them be,” Colin said, his voice cold and rational. “Bridget risked her life to give him a child. No matter how much you kick and scream today, you can’t break up a family of three.” The words hit me like physical blows, knocking the wind out of my lungs. Tears burned behind my eyes, hot and unbearable. “So that’s why you destroyed my career?” I whispered, looking at my brother, then at my best friend. “That’s why you let her bodyguards break my wrist?” The rage and grief ripped through my throat. I stared at Bridget, then back at them. “She is a home-wrecker. And you two are her accomplices! Am I wrong?!” Before the last word left my mouth, a glass of ice water was slammed into my face. The freezing liquid drenched my hair, soaked through my shirt, and ran down my collar, chilling me straight to the bone. “Get a grip, Mallory!” Samantha barked, grabbing my arm with a harsh grip. “You’re the one who was abandoned here, not Bridget!” Over Bridget’s dramatic sobs, Samantha forcefully dragged me down the corridor and shoved me into the private VIP lounge upstairs. My heart seized when I saw the room. This room used to be our secret sanctuary. Because it was close to the hospital, Jason had furnished it for us so I could rest after long surgeries. Knowing I forgot to eat when I was busy, he would bring hot meals in thermal containers. Knowing my neck cramped after hours over an operating table, he had bought a massage chair just for me… All those quiet, tender moments had made me believe that this was what love looked like. Now, the room had been completely gutted. It was a nursery. Cribs, changing tables, plush toys, and baby clothes covered every inch of the floor, erasing every single trace of my existence. “He loves Bridget,” Samantha said, standing near the wall. “As for you? He just confused gratitude with love because you saved his life.” I froze. “What are you talking about?” Samantha gave me a look of deep, bitter pity. She reached out and pulled back the heavy velvet curtain covering the far wall. Behind it was a photo gallery. Hundreds of photos covered the plaster. Jason and Bridget skiing in the mountains. Walking hand-in-hand along a beach at sunset. Riding a boat through a European canal… “They’ve been together for three years,” Samantha said, pointing to the massive wedding portrait in the center. “Last year, on your birthday? Jason wasn’t on a business trip. And Colin and I weren’t on vacation either.” She turned to face me. “We all flew to France. We attended their wedding. We watched them tie the knot.” She took a step closer, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “Even that medical complaint at the hospital? Jason helped set it up. If we hadn’t gotten you suspended, you would have been Bridget’s attending physician—and we couldn’t risk you finding out who she was and refusing to treat her properly.” I looked at Samantha as if she were a monster wearing my friend’s skin. How could those words come out of her mouth? Just six months ago, at her wedding to my brother, she had thrown her bouquet straight into my hands. She had hugged me, crying, telling me that I was the sister she never had, praying that I would be happy for the rest of my life with Jason. She had even pulled Jason aside and threatened to kill him if he ever hurt me. And now, she was the one who helped rip my life apart, standing there to tell me that I was the trash being thrown away. Tears finally overflowed, spilling down my cheeks. I couldn’t put the feeling into words. It felt as if my heart had been pulled out, stamped into the dirt, and ground to dust until there was nothing left to repair. The door clicked open. Jason and Bridget walked in, Bridget wiping her eyes. I looked at them, my voice completely devoid of emotion. “Fine,” I said softly. “Then stay together. I give you my blessing.” Bridget blinked. “Dr. King…” “Mallory, what are you talking about?” Jason muttered, looking unsettled. I didn’t answer. I reached down, pulled the diamond engagement ring off my left ring finger, and pressed it directly into Bridget’s open palm. “I wish you a long, happy marriage. A perfect family of three forever.” Samantha and Colin stood frozen near the doorway. Jason opened his mouth, a strange look of panic flickering in his eyes, as if he wanted to reach out. But I didn’t want to hear another word. I pushed past them and walked out into the night. The next afternoon, Jason stormed into my apartment after receiving an automated alert from the real estate agency. He grabbed my shoulders, dragging me away from the suitcases packed in the middle of the living room floor. “Mallory, what the hell is this?!” he bellowed, his face red with anger. “You listed our apartment for sale?! Have you lost your mind?!” The suppressed rage inside me finally tore through the surface. I let out a cold, bitter laugh, raised my hand, and slapped him across the face with everything I had. SLAP. “Our home?” I spat, my voice shaking. “You still have the nerve to use that word around me, Jason? Was it fun treating me like an idiot for three years?!” A sharp red handprint flared up on his cheekbone. But Jason didn’t get angry. Instead, seeing the violence in my eyes, he softened his tone—the exact same tactic he used every time we had an argument. “Are you done?” he asked gently, trying to take my hand. “Is the anger out of your system? Look, I admit I was wrong for lying to you. But Mallory, we’ve been together for seven years. You can’t just slice a seven-year life in half over a mistake.” He took a step closer, his eyes glossy. “My life belongs to you. You know that. How could I ever truly abandon you?” I turned away, sickened, but he grabbed me from behind, pulling me into a suffocating, desperate hug. “Bridget is the daughter of my company’s late vice chairman,” he pleaded into my hair, his chest heaving. “Before her father died, he begged me to take care of her. I admit it—I was weak, I got involved with her… I tried to break it off, I swear I did! But she has severe separation anxiety. Every time I mentioned leaving, she hurt herself. I couldn’t just watch her die!” He buried his face in the nape of my neck, weeping. “Mallory, I never wanted to lose you. You and Bridget are both good women. You’re the two most important people in my life, and I can’t bear to hurt either of you. Just… just pretend you don’t know about this. We can keep living like we used to. I’ll fulfill all my duties to you, I’ll give you everything you want, I promise…” The absolute filth of his words left me speechless with disgust. Jason took my silence for hesitation. He released me, a hopeful smile breaking on his face. “You haven’t eaten all day, have you? Let me make you that coconut chicken soup you love.” He turned toward the kitchen. BOOM. The front door was kicked open with violent force. Before I could even process what was happening, Samantha rushed in, grabbed my hair, and delivered a devastating blow across my face. SLAP. “Mallory! What did you do with little Toby?!” she shrieked, her eyes bloodshot. Bridget sobbed hysterically as she ran in behind her, sinking to her knees right in front of me on the hardwood floor. “Dr. King, I beg you, give my baby back!” Bridget wailed, clawing at my jeans. “I’ll give Jason back to you! I’ll leave! Just please, don’t hurt my baby!” The warmth on Jason’s face vanished instantly. “What are you talking about?! What happened to the baby?!” “Bridget took Toby to get his vaccinations an hour ago!” Samantha yelled, pointing an accusing finger at my face. “As soon as she finished paying at the counter, someone took him from his stroller! Who else would kidnap a one-month-old baby out of pure revenge except her?!” Veins bulged along Jason’s neck. He lunged forward, grabbing my throat with both hands and shoving me violently against the wall. “You had someone take my son?!” he roared, his grip tightening until my vision flickered. “Mallory, are you insane?!” The air was cut off completely. I clawed wildly at his thick fingers, forcing raspy, suffocating words from my lungs. “I didn’t… I’m a doctor… I would never kidnap a child!” Bridget collapsed onto the floor, screaming, “Please, Dr. King! If anything happens to my baby, I’ll kill myself!” Jason slammed my head back against the drywall, his eyes wild with red veins. “Where is he?! Speak!” “I told you I didn’t do it!” I wheezed, tears falling from the corners of my eyes. “Why won’t you ever believe me?!” “Who else could it be?!” Colin stepped into the apartment. The brother who used to fight kids twice his size to protect me stood in the entryway, his face a mask of cold detachment. “Sis,” Colin said, his voice flat. “If you don’t tell the truth right now, I’m calling the police and pressing full kidnapping charges against you.” My heart didn’t just break; it withered into dust. I shook my head, unable to speak. “You brought this on yourself!” Samantha’s patience snapped. She grabbed me by my hair, dragging my limp body down the hallway and throwing me into the small utility closet near the laundry room. She reached into the medical emergency kit mounted on the wall, pulled out the portable automated external defibrillator (AED) unit we kept for Jason’s heart conditions, tore open the adhesive pads, and slapped them directly onto my bare chest. “I’m sick of your lies, Mallory!” Samantha screamed, her face contorted with rage. “He’s a month old! How could you be so cruel?!” “Are you going to talk, or are you going to make me force it out of you?!” She knew about my medical phobia of electrical shock. She knew better than anyone how to break me. “I didn’t do it…” I sobbed, clutching the cold concrete floor. “How can I confess to something I didn’t do?!” “Fine!” Samantha snarled. “You asked for this!” She hit the manual shock override on the unit. THUMP. A massive, agonizing current surged through my chest, violently contorting my entire body. I was thrown upward like a broken ragdoll before crashing back onto the floor. My head slammed hard against the baseboard. Bright white light exploded behind my eyes, followed by a deafening ringing in my ears. And then, a surge of thick, warm fluid began pouring out between my inner thighs, soaking rapidly through my clothes. Everyone in the doorway froze. “Mallory… what is that?” Samantha stammered, stepping back. Before anyone could move, a phone chimed loudly from the living room. It was the police dispatcher calling back on Jason’s phone. “Is this the family of Toby? We found the child! A nurse accidentally pushed the wrong stroller to the pediatric observation room. Please come down to the hospital immediately!” The heavy silence in the room broke. CLATTER. Samantha dropped the defibrillator handles onto the floor. A wave of pure, hysterical relief washed over their faces. Pushing past one another, laughing and crying out in joy, they turned and rushed out of the apartment in a frenzy. Not a single person looked back at me. Not one. I lay alone in the dark utility closet, staring blankly at the ceiling as the crimson stain on my light blue dress expanded inch by inch, my tears silent as they slipped into the blood. Hours later, the front door clicked open. Jason, Bridget, Colin, and Samantha walked back into the quiet apartment, Jason carrying a gourmet strawberry cake he had bought to celebrate the baby’s safe return. They stepped into the living room, talking softly—until their eyes fell upon the floor. Dark, dried blood covered the hallway runner. On the kitchen island sat a folded paper, a USB drive, and an official medical discharge summary left under a glass cup. The box containing the cake slipped from Jason’s fingers, crashing onto the hardwood. With stiff, trembling hands, Jason walked over and picked up the medical report. His eyes scanned the black-and-white print, and his face instantly turned ash-gray.

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