Category: English

A two-week trip to the Caribbean had been just what I needed, the endless blue of the sea and sky slowly mending the fractures in my soul. Then the text message came, shattering the peace. It was from her. Her tone was a familiar blend of urgency and unquestionable entitlement. “My mom needs surgery. You’ve got savings, right? Get over here and pay for it.” Her words were a needle, instantly puncturing the fragile calm I’d carefully rebuilt. I stared out at the turquoise water, my fingers slowly tapping out a reply. “For something like that, you should probably ask your new husband.” My mind drifted back two weeks, to the moment I’d found the marriage certificate in her purse. The document felt like a brand against my skin. The man in the photo beside her was grinning, a dazzling, triumphant smile. And I, her boyfriend of five years, suddenly felt like a complete and utter fool. I didn’t shed a tear. I didn’t scream or demand an explanation. I just quietly zipped her purse shut, pretending I’d seen nothing. The next day, without a second thought, I booked a flight to the Caribbean, turned off my phone, and vanished from her world. 1 After sending the text, I immediately dragged Ava’s number into my block list. The screen went blessedly silent. I placed my phone face down on the arm of the deck chair, severing all ties to that other world. The salty air, thick with the unique humidity of the tropics, washed over my face. In the distance, the azure sea churned with white-capped waves, stretching to the horizon. But my world had been cleaved in two by that small, official document. The phone vibrated against the armrest, a persistent buzz against my fingertips. I didn’t need to look. I knew it was her. When her calls wouldn’t go through, she resorted to a barrage of texts. The first was a question. “Nathan, what the hell? Did you block me?” The second was pure rage. “Don’t you forget how my mom treated you! She’s lying in a hospital bed while you’re off living it up. Do you have a conscience?” The third was softer, tinged with a flicker of panic. “Nate, please, stop messing around. My mom really needs this money. I’m begging you.” I picked up the phone. The screen’s glare stung my eyes as I read the messages, and five years of memories flooded back, threatening to drown me. I remembered when we first graduated, crammed into a tiny studio apartment in the worst part of town. I’d used my first paycheck to buy her a suit for an interview. She’d hugged me so tight, her eyes shining like stars, and promised that one day she’d get me the house of my dreams. We did eventually move into a new place—a three-bedroom condo in a great neighborhood. The down payment was $200,000. I put in my entire life savings, $150,000 earned over three years of grinding. Her family scraped together the other $50,000. Both our names were on the deed. This is our home, she’d said. But that home was now the marital home she shared with another man. I remembered paying for her sister’s college tuition and living expenses. Her dad would always praise me on the phone, saying their family was blessed to have a son-in-law like me. Now, those words felt like a series of sharp slaps across my face. I wasn’t their son-in-law. I was a tool, a workhorse dutifully pumping money into their family. A convenient partner. A fool who was bankrolling their family’s financial security. A gaping hole opened in my chest, and a cold wind howled through it. I took a deep breath and called my best friend, Zack. He picked up on the first ring. “Nate, my man! The financial wizard finally decides to rejoin the living! I was starting to think some island beauty had kidnapped you.” My voice was calm, so calm it felt alien. “Zack… Ava got married.” The other end of the line went dead silent. For a full thirty seconds, there was nothing. Then Zack’s roar nearly shattered my eardrum. “She what? Who the hell did that snake marry? What about you? What the hell happened?” “The groom wasn’t me.” I gave him the short version, from finding the certificate to her text demanding surgery money. Zack exploded, a torrent of curses that would make a sailor blush. “That monster! That goddamn leech! She sucks you dry for five years, and now she wants you to pay her mom’s medical bills? The absolute nerve!” “Nathan, I’m serious, you get on the next flight back here. I’ll get some guys, and we’ll go down to that hospital and unplug her mom’s damn oxygen!” His fiery rant actually helped. The suffocating weight on my chest seemed to lift a little. “Easy, man,” I said, my own voice steady. “I’m not going to let this go.” “So what’s the plan? Don’t you dare go soft on me. Any kindness to a person like that is just cruelty to yourself.” I watched the setting sun paint the sea gold, and my gaze turned to ice. “Don’t worry. I’m not a fool.” “Five years isn’t something you can just erase with a few words.” After hanging up, I went back to my hotel room and took out my laptop. I opened an encrypted Excel file. The title read: “Shared Living Expenses.” It was a professional habit, a meticulous record of every major expenditure. Every single dollar I had spent on Ava and her family over five years was logged here, clear as day. The mortgage payments, of which I paid two-thirds. Her sister’s tuition, $15,000 a year. The $20,000 I gave them to renovate their parents’ house. Gifts and cash for holidays and birthdays, totaling over $30,000 in five years. And then there were the countless daily expenses, a dense, endless list that filled the entire screen. I calmly typed a final line at the bottom of the spreadsheet. “Grand Total: $285,750.00.” The number burned my eyes, sharp and painful. So that was what my love was worth. No. It was worthless. I closed the laptop and walked out onto the balcony. The sea breeze whipped through my hair. It was time. Time for a final, ruthless accounting of a love that was now dead. Ava’s text-bombing stopped after I blocked her. I figured she assumed I was just throwing a tantrum and that, once I cooled down, I’d come crawling back like always, ready to clean up her mess. She was so used to me giving, she saw it not as a gift, but as her due. She had miscalculated badly. The next morning, just after a refreshing dive, a call came through from an unknown number. The area code was from my city. I answered but said nothing. A familiar, sharp voice, laced with a pathetic whimper, came through the line. “Nate, son, it’s me.” It was Ava’s father. His voice sounded weary and wronged, as if he were the most injured party in the world. “What’s wrong with you, boy? We couldn’t reach you. Didn’t you know Ava’s mother is sick? How can you be so heartless?” He launched straight into accusations, not even bothering to ask why I hadn’t answered. He’d already found me guilty. I could picture him perfectly, putting on his best “I’m so disappointed in you” face, ready to pass moral judgment. I’d heard it a thousand times over the last five years. “Nate, Ava has a demanding job, you need to be more supportive.” “Nate, the family is counting on you.” “Nate, our Ava is so lucky to have found you.” It all sounded like a sick joke now. I didn’t get angry. I just held the phone, listening to his award-worthy performance. “Did you and Ava have a fight? There’s nothing a young couple can’t talk through. What’s this nonsense about running away from home? Do you have any idea how worried she is?” “Her mother is lying in a hospital waiting for money for an operation, and you’re off on vacation.” “You get yourself back here right now and pay that bill. Whatever the problem is, I’ll sort it out for you.” Every word was a poison-tipped dart, aimed at a place in my heart that used to be soft. Now, it was plated in steel. I waited until he had vented, until he had run out of steam, before I spoke. My voice was soft, but every word was crystal clear. “Sir, are you aware that Ava is married?” His tirade stopped cold, as if he’d been choked. I could hear his sharp intake of breath, followed by a dead, ringing silence. I didn’t give him time to recover. I continued, my pace steady and deliberate. “And her husband isn’t me.” That sentence was a bomb, and it detonated on the other end of the line. After a long moment, her father found his voice. It was dry and shrill. “What… What nonsense are you spouting? Which little tramp has been whispering lies in your ear?” He didn’t believe it. Or rather, he refused to. His first instinct wasn’t to question his daughter, but to attack me, the messenger. Pathetic. “You can ask your perfect daughter if I’m lying.” “I saw the marriage certificate with my own eyes. The guy in the photo is a lot better looking than me, too.” “Right now, your concern shouldn’t be whether an outsider like me is coming back to pay her bills.” “It should be whether your brand-new son-in-law is willing to foot the bill for his new family.” I finished and, without giving him another chance to speak, hung up. The dark screen reflected my emotionless face. I could only imagine his shock and rage. He would call Ava immediately. A storm was about to break within their family. And all I had to do was sit here, enjoy the sea breeze, and watch the show. Ava, this is just the beginning. You owe me. And I’m going to collect every single cent, with interest. My dignity and my money. I’m taking it all back. A friend request from a “Marcus Thorne” popped up on my social media the next afternoon. The profile picture was a guy in a flashy suit at what looked like a black-tie gala. I accepted. A message came through instantly. “Nathan? My name is Marcus Thorne.” Polite. Formal. As if we were strangers. I didn’t reply, just watched the screen. My silence didn’t seem to bother him. A second message appeared. “I know it’s presumptuous of me to contact you, but I wanted to apologize for the situation with Ava.” Apologize? That was a new one. Did he think stealing someone’s fiancée could be smoothed over with a two-word apology? “Ava told me everything. She said she tried to break up with you for a while, but you wouldn’t accept it. I understand. Five years is a long time, and it’s natural to have trouble letting go.” His wording was clever. In just a few sentences, he’d painted a picture where he was blameless. Ava had tried to end it. I was the clingy ex. And he, Marcus Thorne, was the innocent party caught in the middle. What a piece of work. I still didn’t reply, just tapped my finger on the back of my phone, enjoying his sad little one-man show. When I remained silent, Marcus finally got to the point. His tone shifted from fake sympathy to smug superiority. “To be honest, my parents weren’t thrilled about me and Ava at first. You know, our family’s situation… They felt she wasn’t from the right background.” “But Ava really loves me. She stood up to all that pressure for my sake. She told me she’s never loved anyone the way she loves me.” “She even gave me her debit card to manage for her. And the renovations on our new condo? All done exactly to my taste.” He sent a picture. It was the “home” we had planned together. The sofa I had picked out, the design blueprints I’d stayed up all night drawing, the decor I had slowly accumulated. Now, in the center of the living room in the photo, hung a massive wedding portrait of him and Ava. She was nestled in his arms, her smile radiant and sickeningly sweet. It was a declaration of ownership. A brutal, slow-twisting knife for the ex-boyfriend. An invisible hand squeezed my heart, a suffocating ache. But I showed nothing. I just looked at the photo and saved it to my phone. Marcus’s performance wasn’t over. “Nathan, I know you’re a smart guy. Ava chose me. She chose the future my family can give her. Let the past be the past.” “Dragging this out will only make things more awkward for everyone, especially you.” There it was. The final blow. Everything before this was just a warm-up. He was telling me to back off gracefully. “Oh, by the way, I heard Ava’s mom is sick? Ava’s been really worried about it.” “If you’re willing to give her the money you two saved together to help with the medical bills, I’ll consider it your severance package.” “After all, you were with her for five years. We can’t let you walk away with nothing, can we?” Severance package? Using my money as my own severance package? I actually laughed out loud. Was this guy for real? Was he that naive, or just that stupid? He must have thought I was the same pushover who did whatever Ava wanted. That he could buy me off with a pittance of my own money. I didn’t read any further. I took a long screenshot of the entire chat history. Then, I sent him my first and last reply. “Screenshotted.” After sending that one word, I blocked and deleted him. I had no interest in a war of words. It was pointless. The best way to deal with a smug idiot like him was to let him fall headfirst into the pit he’d dug for himself. And these screenshots were the first shovel of dirt I was going to throw on his grave.

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1 My life was shattered the afternoon my parents came home three years ago, an android boy in tow. I, who had once been the apple of their eye, became the family’s resident “troublemaker” overnight. Dad always said I was more trouble than I was worth. Mom constantly compared me to Jett, the new android, my supposed younger brother. Even my sister, Isabelle, who I’d always been close to, would sneer, “What can you do besides fight me for attention?” The dam of my resentment finally broke. In a fit of rage, I shoved Jett to the ground. Mom’s face turned to stone. A sharp crack echoed through the room as her palm connected with my cheek. “He’s your brother!” she screamed. “If you were half as obedient as him, you wouldn’t be such a constant headache!” After that, I was forcibly sent to the Meridian Institute for Behavioral Correction. They called it “learning to be a good son,” a pretty lie for what it really was: a trade. They had swapped me for Jett. And today, after three long years, my family had finally come to get me. They stood at the institute’s gates, calling my name over and over, but I remained rooted to my spot, unresponsive. The director, seeing their confusion, smiled and explained to my mother, “Mrs. Evans, you have to say ‘Activate.’ Unit 1314 will not respond otherwise.” … “Activate, Unit 1314.” Mom’s voice trembled as she said it. She wasn’t sure what she was saying; she was just repeating the director’s words. My eyes lit up, like a long-dormant screen flickering to life. I rose from my chair, my posture ramrod straight, my hands hanging loosely at my sides. “Activated. Awaiting command.” Mom stared, stunned. The director’s voice chimed in from behind her. “Mrs. Evans, to better facilitate our students’ education, we’ve designed a proprietary system. The student can only be awakened by an activation command. With this, he will never disobey you.” Understanding dawned on Mom’s face. My sister, Isabelle, pushed her way to the front, a mischievous glint in her eyes. She’s five years older than me and always took pleasure in making me cry. Back then, whenever she succeeded, I’d chase her around the house until Mom yelled at both of us. “1314, bark like a dog for me.” At the command, I hunched over, stuck out my tongue, and let out a series of loud, sharp barks. Izzy burst out laughing. “Wow, Nell really has learned his lesson,” she said to our parents. “He used to whine for half an hour when we asked him to practice the piano. Now he’s so obedient, he’ll even bark on command.” Mom and Dad nodded, their eyes holding a clear glint of satisfaction with my performance. On the way home, Mom tried to make small talk. “Nell, how were your three years at the institute?” I didn’t answer. She hadn’t ordered me to. “Nell?” she said, her voice louder this time. My voice was a flat monotone, like a text-to-speech program. “Interrogative statements are not valid commands. If you require a response, please use the imperative form.” The air in the car went still. Mom’s voice caught in her throat. After a long moment, she managed, “Answer me.” “My time at the institute was fulfilling and meaningful. I completed the three core curricula: Emotional Control, Absolute Obedience, and Rational Thought. My graduation assessment was ‘Excellent,’ with the instructor’s evaluation noting me as ‘the most successful rehabilitation case of the year.’” I recited the lines verbatim, my tone devoid of any inflection, as if reading from a user manual. The back seat was silent for a long time. Then, Izzy muttered, “He sounds just like… Jett.” I kept my eyes fixed forward, my face a blank mask. The city blurred past the car window. The skyscrapers, the overpasses, the billboards—they were all different from what I remembered. At the institute, time wasn’t measured in days or months, but in commands. A day was no different from a month. The only way I could mark the passage of time was by scratching hash marks into the wall of the silence chamber. Eventually, I even forgot how to do that. By the time the car pulled into our driveway, dusk was settling. Jett was standing at the door, hands clasped in front of him, a perfect smile on his face—calibrated to reveal exactly six teeth. He looked exactly the same as he did three years ago. I remembered that day. Mom had knelt down to speak to him, her voice softer than I’d ever heard it. “Welcome home, Jett.” I had jumped off the sofa, eager to see my new brother, but my foot caught on something and I went sprawling. No one helped me up. They just said I was being clumsy. After that, everyone started to hate me. I wasn’t as obedient as Jett, not as thoughtful as Jett… In the end, I was the one sent away. “Welcome home, brother.” Jett’s voice was as sweet as ever. I didn’t reply. He hadn’t given the command to. Mom frowned. “You still don’t like Jett? It looks like you haven’t learned anything. Speak!” At her command, a smile instantly appeared on my face. “Acknowledged. Thank you.” Jett’s own smile never wavered, and Mom nodded, satisfied. At dinner, the family sat around the table. Jett was on Mom’s right, Izzy on Dad’s left. I was at the very end. The steam rising from my bowl carried the scent of rice, but my stomach felt nothing. At the institute, eating was defined as an “energy replenishment activity.” It had nothing to do with pleasure, nothing to do with hunger. “Let’s eat,” Mom said casually. I picked up my chopsticks at once. Rice, braised pork, green peppers… Seeing me eat the peppers, Izzy’s eyes widened. “Well, look at that. You eat green peppers now? Weren’t you the pickiest eater in the world?” I didn’t answer. I just took another bite of the peppers. The instructor had said preferences were “emotional residue,” a sign of incomplete rehabilitation. During my third month, I was locked in the silence chamber for two full days for refusing to eat green peppers. No light, no sound, no stimulation. Just darkness. When I got out, I ate the green peppers. Then the carrots, the onions, the bitter melon. I ate everything I used to refuse to touch. Mom nodded approvingly. She always liked a child who wasn’t a picky eater. Next, I reached for the peanuts. I put one in my mouth, chewed fifteen times, and swallowed. Dad’s eyes went wide. “He ate a peanut?” “Isn’t Nell allergic to peanuts? He ate one when he was little and his mouth swelled up like a sausage! We had to rush him to the ER!” Izzy put down her chopsticks, her voice filled with disbelief. “Can the institute cure allergies too?” I chewed silently, saying nothing. At the institute, you weren’t allowed to have allergies. The instructor had smeared peanut butter directly onto my arm. The skin would blister, rot, and peel, then heal, then rot again, but the allergic reaction never truly went away. A shiver ran through me. My throat began to tighten, an itch spreading across my skin. Angry red hives erupted on my face. Izzy frowned. “His face is getting red.” Mom leaned in for a closer look, her expression changing to one of horror. “That’s not a blush, that’s a reaction. Nell, stop eating! Don’t you know you’re allergic to peanuts?” My chopsticks froze in mid-air. I looked up at her, my eyes empty of emotion, my voice as steady as a recording. “Is that a command?” Mom froze for a second, but I was already struggling to breathe. Jett’s crisp voice cut through the panic. “Patient is experiencing an anaphylactic reaction. Respiratory distress is moderate. Approximately twenty-three percent of the skin is covered in hives. Recommend immediate administration of anti-allergy medication.” They snapped into action, fumbling to give me the medicine. After my breathing returned to normal, a heavy silence fell over the living room. Izzy’s voice came from the sofa. “Something’s wrong with him.” “He used to cry and throw tantrums. He wasn’t like this. He’s like… he’s like Jett!” I said nothing. She hadn’t given me the command to speak. “Can’t you just be normal?” Her voice suddenly rose to a shriek. “Stop acting like Jett! We wanted an obedient brother, not another robot!” I looked at her face. It was contorted with anger and frustration. “Please define ‘normal,’” I said flatly. The color drained from Izzy’s face. Mom and Dad looked horrified. Dad picked up the phone and called the institute. The person on the other end explained that this was a normal side effect of “deep behavioral conditioning” and that I would return to my old self in a few days. “Unit 1314 is our top student. He’s more obedient than any AI. Don’t worry, this is all part of the process.” Dad hung up and relayed the message. Mom nodded. They both seemed relieved. In the days that followed, I became the most useful tool in the house. When Mom told me to do the dishes, I cleaned them more thoroughly than Jett ever had. When Dad told me to move the planters, I moved every single one by myself. When Izzy told me to fetch her packages, I ran faster than a dog. “Nell is even more useful than Jett now,” Mom said with a laugh. Everyone agreed. Until the night Izzy forgot to deactivate me. Everyone else was asleep. I sat on the living room sofa, from dusk until dawn. When Mom came downstairs the next morning, she found me sitting in the exact same position. Her face went white. The coffee cup slipped from her hand and shattered on the floor. A woman in a white coat came to the house. She introduced herself as Dr. Wallace, a psychologist. Her voice was gentle. “Hello, Nell.” I said nothing. Mom wrung her hands nervously beside me. “You have to give him a command. He won’t speak otherwise.” Dr. Wallace gave my mother a sharp, disapproving look before turning back to me. “Tell me your name.” She used the imperative form. “Unit 1314.” Dr. Wallace’s pen paused on her notepad. “What about your real name?” “Nell Evans. But that is a former designation. Institute protocol requires graduated students to use their unit number as their official identifier.” Dr. Wallace was stunned into silence. The faces of my family members turned grim. They retreated into the study, speaking in hushed tones about things I couldn’t understand. “Post-traumatic stress… depersonalization… requires long-term therapy…” After that, things at home became strange. They started treating me with a delicate, cautious air. On Jett’s birthday, they made a difficult decision. They were sending him away. This would be his last birthday with us. The living room was filled with balloons, a two-tiered cake sitting on the table. Jett walked over to me, his smile as gentle as ever. “Happy birthday, brother.” My eyes blinked. A wire deep inside my brain felt like it had just loosened. Today was my birthday, too. No one remembered. Three years ago, on this very day, I was shoved into a car and sent to the institute. As they took me away, I cried and begged Mom to let me have a piece of my birthday cake first. She told me I could have cake when I came back, after I’d learned to be a good boy. I had learned. But the cake never came. Jett suddenly smiled. “Brother, the definition of ‘normal’ is pushing away people you don’t like. Push me. Just like you did three years ago.” I stared at him. The gentle look was gone from his eyes, replaced by a strange, flickering light. But he had given me a definition of ‘normal.’ I placed my hand on his shoulder. Before I could even push, he threw himself backwards, collapsing like a porcelain doll designed to break. The living room door swung open. Izzy stood there, holding a plate of fruit. “Nell! What are you doing?” she screamed. The fruit platter crashed to the floor. Jett sat on the ground, his eyes welling up with simulated tears. “Brother, why did you push me? I thought you didn’t hate me anymore.” He was lying. I knew he was. His tears were a program, his trembling generated by an algorithm. Mom rushed over, her expression shifting from shock to fury in a matter of seconds. “What did you do? Why did you push Jett?” “He told me to.” “You’re lying!” Jett sobbed. “Why would I ask you to push me? I just wanted to wish my brother a happy birthday…” Izzy knelt and helped Jett up, her movements delicate, as if handling fragile glass. She looked up at me, her eyes filled with bitter disappointment. “You haven’t changed at all. You spend three years at that place, come back pretending to be so obedient, and then you show your true colors the first chance you get. I knew it. A leopard can’t change its spots. He’s always been like this, jealous of Jett.” Mom’s eyes were red, not with sympathy for me, but with rage. “And we were just talking about being better to you. I was regretting sending you to that place. We were trying to figure out how to make it up to you.” She stepped closer, jabbing a finger into my chest. “And for what? You haven’t changed. You’re still the same malicious kid. You still can’t stand Jett. You put on an act for all this time and fooled every single one of us.” I opened my mouth, wanting to say it wasn’t an act, that the institute had done this to me. That they had sent me there. But I couldn’t. There was no command. “Speak!” Mom roared. “I have not received a command to ‘speak.’” Mom’s face flushed a deep crimson. Behind her, Jett sobbed softly in her arms. “He should just die,” Izzy said suddenly. The room went silent for a beat. “What did you say?” Dad asked, frowning. Izzy’s voice was so loud it seemed to rattle the windows. “I said, he should die! He’s so obedient, right? He follows every command, right? Then tell him to die! If he died, at least we’d have some peace!” The moment she finished, Jett collapsed. His body convulsed, his eyes rolled back, and foam frothed at his lips. “Jett! Jett, what’s wrong?” Mom shrieked. She cradled his head while Dad tried to revive him. Izzy was on the phone, screaming for an ambulance. They were all crowded around him. No one was looking at me. I stood in the middle of the room, watching them. No one looked at me. “Command received. Terminate.” No one heard me. They were all too busy, their faces etched with panic and fear for Jett. I slowly turned and walked towards the balcony. The night wind whipped in, cold and sharp. “Nell!” Izzy saw me first. Her shriek was shrill, the phone slipping from her hand and clattering to the floor. Mom’s head snapped around, the color draining from her face. “Nell! What are you doing?” I smiled at her, and without a moment’s hesitation, I carried out the command.

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1 When my birth parents found me, they swore they would treat me and the imposter who had taken my place with absolute equality. We wore the same designer clothes, attended the same university, and were even married off to a set of twin brothers. It all fell apart the day the headlines screamed that the imposter’s husband was having an affair with a famous actress. In response, my parents called my husband over. And they arranged a mistress for him—a young, beautiful secretary. This, they said, was a special favor to me. The secretary had a clean background and, crucially, was infertile. She would never threaten my position as the wife of the younger Covington heir. I didn’t lose my temper. I just picked up my phone and called for an entire club’s worth of escorts. I told my family, “Why stop at one? If we’re going to do this, let’s do it with style. And if that’s not enough, I can always call for more.” My brother, Tristan, scowled, accusing me of being too extreme. He insisted our parents were only looking out for me. “Scarlett is prettier and more accomplished than you,” he sneered. “If even her husband cheated, what makes you think you can hold on to your marriage?” I nodded slowly, looking him straight in the eye. “He’s right. I can’t. So I’m done.” “I don’t want the husband. And I don’t want any of you, either.” … My father’s hands trembled with rage. “You wretched girl! How could you say something so heartless to your own family?” My mother’s eyes welled up as she clutched her chest. “Seraphina, we searched so long for you. How can you throw us away so easily?” Tristan’s voice was a furious hiss. “You’re nothing but an ungrateful brat!” Just then, a breaking news alert flashed across the television screen. “Sources report that Ms. Scarlett Blackwood, heiress to the Blackwood Corporation, jumped from the balcony of her marital home at five o’clock this afternoon…” The camera showed Scarlett, pale as a ghost, being loaded into an ambulance. She’d jumped from the fifth floor, but right into the swimming pool below. She didn’t even have a scratch on her. But my parents and Tristan were already in a full-blown panic. “Hurry! Get the family hospital cleared out! I want the best team of specialists on standby!” I watched their frantic retreat, then calmly walked to the window. “Scarlett jumped. So I’ll jump, too. That’s only fair, isn’t it?” I made a move to climb onto the sill. Three terrified screams ripped through the air behind me. They scrambled back, yanking me away from the window with frantic strength. My mother clung to me, sobbing hysterically, while Tristan pinned my arms. My father slammed the window shut, locked it, and then, turning back, he slapped me hard across the face. “Seraphina, how dare you use suicide to threaten us?” Tristan and my mother froze. It was the first time any of them had laid a hand on me since they’d rescued me, covered in wounds, from an illegal sweatshop. My mother was the first to react. “What are you doing? You scared her! Apologize to Seraphina right now!” But I just stared at them, my cheek burning, my voice eerily calm. “You slapped me.” “So now you have to slap Scarlett. To be fair. Right?” All three of them stared at me as if I were a lunatic. My father’s voice shook with fury. “You’ve lost your mind!” I smiled. A broken, empty thing. “Isn’t this what you’ve been teaching me all along?” When they first brought me home, they spent a full week brainwashing me. They said they’d raised Scarlett for twenty years and loved her too deeply to send her back to her impoverished biological family. But they made a solemn vow: they would be perfectly, absolutely fair. Neither of us would ever feel neglected. And they kept their word. If Scarlett got a new haute couture gown, an identical one would appear in my closet. The family assets and company shares were divided equally between us, down to the last cent. If Tristan made a sarcastic remark to me, my parents would immediately force him to repeat the exact same words to Scarlett. Their love was perfectly distributed. No need to fight for it, no need to guess. After seeing so many online dramas about real and fake heiresses tearing each other apart, I once thought this arrangement was for the best. But then, everything soured. Scarlett hit her rebellious phase. She got into fights at school and started dating some dropout with bleached hair. My parents were heartbroken. As punishment, they made her kneel in the cold, dusty family chapel—and they dragged me there to kneel beside her. Their reasoning was flawless, in their eyes. “We share the good times and the bad. That’s what a real family does. That’s what’s fair.” Later, Scarlett flunked her college entrance exams. While my parents comforted her, they were also tearing up my acceptance letter to a top-tier university. They sent me to the same third-rate arts college abroad that Scarlett was going to. I’d studied sciences my whole life, but they changed my major to Arts Management, the same as hers. “You and Scarlett will both be taking over the family business someday, so it doesn’t matter what you study,” they’d said. “But we promised to be fair, which means you must receive the exact same education.” I knew something was deeply wrong. But after a childhood of being passed around and treated like dirt, I was desperate for a family. I couldn’t bear to let go of this fragile, imitation warmth. At least, I told myself, they were trying to be good to me. That delusion lasted until Scarlett became obsessed with Damien Covington, the eldest son of the Covington dynasty. And Damien, conveniently, had a twin brother, Daniel. My parents gave me no choice. They arranged my engagement to Daniel. Our weddings were set for the same day. Scarlett and I wore identical gowns and carried identical bouquets. The venue, the ceremony, even the seating charts for the guests were perfect mirror images of each other. When the priest read the vows, I saw Scarlett beaming with pure joy. But all I felt was a wave of nausea. Today, when they so casually tried to arrange a mistress for my husband, I finally understood the source of that feeling. Their idea of fairness wasn’t about treating me as an equal. It was about turning me into Scarlett’s living duplicate. But there was one thing they didn’t know. I had a way out. I’m not from this world. 2 I was transmigrated here. The System that brought me gave me one mission: to collect affection points from the three members of the Blackwood family. I was close to maxing them out. When I told the System I was giving up, it tried to reason with me. “Host, the affection points don’t lie. They truly care about you.” Before I could argue, my parents and Tristan had dragged me into the car and were speeding toward the hospital. “Are we going so I can be admitted alongside Scarlett?” I asked dryly. “We wouldn’t want her to feel an imbalance, after all.” The atmosphere in the car turned to ice. All three of them looked horrified, but they didn’t dare scold me again. My mother took my hand. “Seraphina, we’re bringing you because we’re a family. Scarlett will need your support.” Her voice softened. “We were wrong before. We hurt you, and it will never happen again.” Just as she finished speaking, Tristan’s phone rang. It was the hospital. Scarlett was pregnant, but the shock of her “jump” had put the pregnancy at risk. The doctors said she couldn’t handle any more stress. My father slammed on the brakes. “Seraphina, you never liked the smell of hospitals, did you? Why don’t you go do some shopping? Clear your head.” My mother pressed a black card into my hand. “Buy whatever you want. Take your time.” Tristan opened my door and practically pulled me out of the car. “Don’t you dare go near Scarlett and cause a scene,” he warned. “She can’t take it right now.” The car sped away, leaving me on the curb. I held the card and asked the System, “Did their affection points go up?” There was a long, strange silence. “…They went up a little.” I laughed, a humorless sound. “It seems your sensors aren’t very accurate. It’s confusing guilt for affection.” “Now,” I said, my voice hardening. “Initiate my exit protocol.” This time, the System didn’t hesitate. “Exit protocol confirmed. Initiating…” I walked into the nearest luxury department store and, for the first time, chose an outfit based on my own taste. I had just changed when Tristan called. His voice was urgent. “Get to the hospital. Now. You need to tell Scarlett that you’re pregnant, too.” “If you can convince her not to terminate her pregnancy, I’ll make Mom and Dad officially add your name to the family trust! I swear!” I was about to refuse, but he cut me off, his voice exploding with rage. “Seraphina Blackwood! I knew it! You’ve always been jealous of her!” “She’s fragile! If she goes through with an abortion, it could destroy her health!” “It’s just a little lie! It’s not like it’ll cost you anything!” No, it wouldn’t cost me a piece of my flesh. But it would cost me my freedom. They would lock me in the house to “gestate” alongside Scarlett. We would wear the same maternity clothes, eat the same nutritional meals. They’d probably even want our weight gain to be identical. Then, after ten months, they would find some random baby and hand it to me. But none of that mattered anymore. I was leaving. I looked up at the hospital looming in the distance. “What I mean is,” I said into the phone, my voice calm, “I don’t need my name on your family trust.” Tristan was silent for a second, then his voice dropped to a menacing growl. “You better not pull any stunts.” Inside the VIP hospital suite, my parents were fussing over Scarlett, who was propped up in bed. When they saw me walk in, their faces filled with worry and apprehension. Before I could say a word, Scarlett snatched a fruit knife from the bedside table and lunged, aiming for my stomach. “I don’t want this baby,” she shrieked, “and I won’t let you have one either!” 3 I didn’t dodge. I even grabbed her hand, guiding the blade, and pushed it deeper into myself. The System had warned me that a self-initiated exit would result in punishment. But there was a loophole: if I died as a direct result of the abuse from the Blackwood family, I would not only be freed but also receive compensation. I watched as my parents and Tristan rushed toward me, their faces contorted in horror. They were screaming for doctors, their hands fumbling to press against the bleeding wound. For the first time, Tristan’s face was a mask of pure, helpless confusion. A small smile touched my lips. Looks like I wasn’t going to die. Not yet. When I woke up, all three of them were by my bedside. They looked haggard, with dark circles under their eyes. Seeing me awake, Tristan spoke first. “Dad already slapped Scarlett.” I gave a faint “mm.” That small sound was like a spark to a powder keg. Tristan shot to his feet, his voice a low roar. “She cried all night because of that slap! The stress almost made her miscarry! And that’s all you have to say? What more do you want?” “I don’t want anything,” I said quietly. My father sighed heavily. “Seraphina, I’ll transfer a portion of Scarlett’s assets to you as compensation. You won’t be at a disadvantage in this, I promise.” My mother dabbed at her eyes. “Scarlett didn’t mean it, darling. She was just… overwrought…” I ignored them, my voice distant as if recalling a dream. “When I first came here, I got a kitten.” “Scarlett was playing with it, and it scratched her face.” “You said that to be fair, you had to do the same to me. You held the cat down and scratched my face with its claws.” “Then you had the cat put down.” The room fell into a dead silence. They were frozen, speechless. Finally, Tristan broke the silence, veins bulging in his neck as he yelled, “That’s not the same thing!” “Dad already promised you compensation! And besides, you’re fine, aren’t you?” Just then, the doctor walked in. “The patient had to have a hysterectomy. The family needs to be vigilant about preventing post-operative infections.” I slowly turned my head to look at the three statues standing by my bed. I smiled. “So, how are you going to make this fair?” My mother stammered, “S-Scarlett’s child will know you as their godmother… when you’re old, they’ll take care of you…” A laugh, sharp and self-mocking, escaped my lips. “So the assets you’re giving me as ‘compensation’ will ultimately go to her child anyway.” They opened their mouths, desperate to explain, but I cut them off, closing my eyes. “I was just kidding.” “I trust you. I trust that you will always be perfectly fair to both me and Scarlett.” 4 Tears welled in my parents’ eyes. They moved to embrace me, but I pushed them away. “I only have one request now.” “I want my own birthday.” “For the last ten years, I’ve had to share my birthday with Scarlett.” “I just want to eat a cake that’s all mine.” “I just want to hear you say ‘Happy Birthday’ to me, and only me.” They agreed without a moment’s hesitation. Racked with guilt, they planned a party of extravagant proportions. Every detail was dripping with luxury. And it was all kept a secret from Scarlett. The System’s voice echoed in my mind. “Are you… starting to feel reluctant to leave them?” I shook my head. Before the System chose me, I was an orphan with no one in the world. But it had shown me the original Seraphina’s memories from before she was lost—a life filled with warmth and genuine love from her family. That’s why I had agreed to come here. I believed they truly loved their daughter. For ten years, I waited, hoping to see a flicker of that love from the memories return. But I was done waiting. On the day of the party, just as I expected, Scarlett showed up. Her face was a mask of pure malice. “Do you really think Mom and Dad love you?” she hissed. “They found you years ago. But I was having a hard time, throwing tantrums, hurting myself. They were worried about me, so they decided not to bring you home. It was the same week your foster father almost…” She let the word hang in the air. “They only came for you later, when you were about to be beaten to death in that sweatshop, because they had no choice.” “But they promised me. They promised they’d use ‘fairness’ as an excuse to make sure you were always one step beneath me.” I looked at her, my expression unreadable. “Are you finished?” Scarlett’s face contorted with rage. “You just wait. In a minute, I’m going to ‘accidentally’ fall down the stairs and tell everyone you pushed me. Let’s see how calm you are when Mom and Dad throw you out!” I grabbed her wrist. “No need to pretend,” I said. “I’ll make it real for you.” And with all my strength, I shoved her down the grand staircase. My parents and Tristan, drawn by the noise, arrived just in time to see Scarlett tumble. My father lunged at me, his foot connecting brutally with the fresh stitches on my abdomen. The force sent me flying over the second-floor railing. I landed in the living room, crashing directly onto the five-tiered birthday cake. Cream and strawberry filling flooded my mouth. It was sweet. Just like the happiness I had always imagined. In the ensuing chaos, Tristan still remembered to have the guards drag me to the basement. “We’ll deal with you when we get back!” he roared. The basement was dark and cold. No one remembered me. Three days later, they finally returned, muttering about how they were going to punish me. But when they opened the basement door, all that greeted them was the thick, cloying stench of decay. From the cake. And from me.

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1 The system had made me a promise: complete the mission, and the man I loved would live again. For that promise, I poured every ounce of my heart into the dark, twisted soul of Orion, the villain of this world. I endured ninety-nine deaths without ever flinching. But on my one-hundredth life, to please the woman he worshipped, he threw me to a psychopath. “You can’t die anyway,” he’d said, his voice casual. “As long as it makes Serena happy, I don’t even mind marrying you.” He would never know the system’s hidden rule: if I completed all one hundred attempts, my love would be revived, no matter the outcome. And as of this moment, I was about to vanish from his world forever, without a trace. … [Host has died 99 times. Hidden reward unlocked. Upon 100th death triggered by the target, reward will be automatically disbursed: Resurrection of Noah.] I opened my eyes to the cold floor, the large pool of blood around me already dry and cracked. I had come to this world to win over Orion, all to bring back my love, Noah. I was an orphan, adrift in a world that never wanted me. It was Noah who pulled me from the darkness. So when the system told me I could resurrect him by capturing Orion’s heart, I agreed without a second’s hesitation. I gave Orion everything. Even as he tortured me, I showed him nothing but unwavering devotion. He knew I was a player in this game, that I would be reborn after every death. He used that knowledge to inflict every cruelty imaginable, showing me no mercy. On my ninety-ninth life, he took me to a fashion show for Serena, his untouchable goddess. As he watched her on the runway, his eyes full of adoration, he humiliated me, treating me like a dog at his feet. I sat there in silence, enduring it all, refusing to leave his side. Halfway through the show, the ceiling collapsed. Shards of glittering glass rained down. Without thinking, I threw myself over Orion, letting the glass pierce my body. He shoved me off and ran—not to me, but to Serena, who stood untouched a few feet away. No one noticed me as the venue emptied. With a shard of glass buried deep in my heart, I welcomed my ninety-ninth death. It was alright. After this rebirth, I only had to die one more time, and I would have Noah back. I had barely staggered to my feet when Orion’s call came through. “Are you up? Serena and I are at City Center Hospital. Make some soup and bring it over. Now.” His voice was laced with impatience, as if every word spoken to me was an agony. The fact that I had just died for him didn’t move him in the slightest. I dragged my broken body home. Without even changing my blood-soaked clothes, I started making the soup. He was always like this, demanding that the food be made by my hand. If he found a single flaw, he’d throw the entire container, soup and all, in my face. In my sixty-seventh life, he’d scalded my face so badly it left a permanent scar. He just laughed. “What do you care? You’ll just die and reset anyway.” When I arrived at the hospital, carrying the thermos, Orion was gently tending to Serena as she lay in bed. He scowled the moment he saw me. “You didn’t even change? What if you bring germs in here?” Serena patted his hand softly, then gave me an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Aurora. Orion is just worried about me.” 2 On the surface, she was defending me. But her eyes held a clear, sharp glint of mockery. Orion took the thermos, ladled out a spoonful of soup, blew on it, and brought it to Serena’s lips. She had barely swallowed when she began to cough violently. Orion panicked, patting her back frantically until her coughing subsided. Her eyes, misty with tears, drifted to the thermos. “I’m… allergic to lemon.” I stood frozen, watching her. I knew her dietary restrictions better than her own doctor. But if she decided, in this exact moment, that she was allergic to lemon, there was nothing I could do. Orion spun around, his face a mask of fury. He snatched the thermos and flung the scalding soup into my face. “Are you trying to kill her? Is that your plan? You think if Serena’s gone, you can take her place?” The heat was searing, as if it were peeling my skin away. I bit my lip, fighting back the agony, and whispered a single, slow word. “Sorry.” It didn’t matter what I said. He would never believe me. Better to just let him be the cause of my final death so I could go home. Serena watched my humiliation with a triumphant glint in her eyes before her expression melted back into one of tearful fragility. She tugged on Orion’s sleeve. “Orion, stop. Aurora didn’t mean it.” He shot me one last cold glare. “Clean it up.” I knelt, my hands stinging as shards of glass from the shattered thermos cut into my palms. I cleaned up the mess with my bare hands, as if I couldn’t feel the pain. For some reason, this seemed to agitate Orion even more. He yanked me roughly to my feet. “Can’t you use a broom? Who are you trying to play the victim for?” He shoved me aside and called for a janitor. Serena watched us, a deep frown creasing her brow, before she deftly changed the subject. “Orion, darling, you haven’t told Aurora about the dress for the exhibition yet, have you?” Orion glanced at me, his voice flat. “Serena needs a hand-stitched silk gown for next month’s gala. You’ll make it for her.” I had learned the art of intricate silk embroidery from a master artisan. It was a delicate, beautiful craft, but it was excruciating for the eyes. In my forty-sixth life, I’d worked day and night on a piece for him, all because of an offhand joke he’d made. That time, I had died from pure exhaustion, my vision permanently damaged upon revival. The doctors had warned me against any work that strained my eyes. Orion knew this. He just didn’t care. I looked at him, my eyes filled with nothing but pure, unadulterated love. “Of course. I’ll do it.” He seemed taken aback, almost flustered by the intensity of my gaze. He looked away awkwardly. “After you finish Serena’s dress… I’ll take you abroad to see a specialist.” “It’s okay, Orion. I would do anything for you. You don’t have to feel guilty.” He stared into my eyes, and for the first time, a flicker of something—emotion, perhaps—stirred in their cold depths. But I didn’t have time to care about whether he’d fix my eyes. Once I left this world, none of it would matter. Orion’s lips parted as if he were about to say more, but Serena cried out, clutching her head. “Orion…” He spun back to her instantly, forgetting I was even in the room. I had no interest in staying anyway. I returned to my small apartment and began to work. 3 If I was lucky, I’d die from exhaustion, just like last time. I couldn’t wait to see Noah again. I had been away from him for far, far too long. The embroidery required absolute concentration. A single misplaced stitch could ruin the entire piece. The design for Serena’s gown was incredibly complex, and I worked almost without sleep. My eyes were webbed with crimson threads of exhaustion. A dull throb started behind my temples. The world swam before my eyes, and I fainted, not even noticing the name “Orion” lighting up my phone screen. In my dream, a large, warm hand touched my forehead. I thought I had died, that I was finally back in my own world. I opened my eyes, my voice choked with joy. “Noah!” But the eyes I met were not Noah’s. They were Orion’s, narrowed and dangerous. “Noah. Who is that?” His grip on my wrist tightened. He repeated the question, his voice low and menacing. “Who is Noah?” I didn’t know what to say. I scrambled for a lie. “He was… a celebrity I used to have a crush on. I was dreaming about him.” It was a pathetic excuse, but after a few seconds of tense silence, he seemed to buy it. After all, my love for him was absolute. I had died for him ninety-nine times. How could I possibly have anyone else in my heart? “You certainly have time for fantasies.” He released my wrist, his expression turning cold again. The sharp click of high heels echoed from the doorway. It was Serena. She froze when she saw me with Orion. “Aurora, Orion told me you fainted working on the dress. I came as soon as I heard. I’m so sorry, this is all my fault.” She looked down, feigning guilt. Orion immediately jumped to her defense. “It has nothing to do with you. Aurora agreed to do it. She has to finish what she starts.” His tone was mocking, cruel. “After all, her pathetic life is meant to be in service to you. If I told her to die, she’d probably do it without a second thought.” His words meant nothing to me, but I had to play my part. I looked at him, my expression a mask of heartbreak and forced resignation. “Yes, Orion. I would do anything you ask. I came to this world for you.” His pupils dilated. He looked almost… panicked. He grabbed Serena and pulled her from the room, tossing a final command over his shoulder. “Just get the dress done. You don’t have to kill yourself over it.” That was new. He had never cared about my life before. I shook my head, pushing the thought away. I had to die, and soon. And I knew Serena would give me the opportunity I needed. She projected an image of angelic purity, but underneath she was venomous and selfish. She claimed she only wanted to be like a sister to Orion, but she ruthlessly destroyed anyone who got close to him. When I stood up, I realized I was on Orion’s private yacht. I walked out onto the deck. In the distance, Orion and his friends were having a party. I stood at the prow, staring at the moon, the ache for Noah growing deeper with every passing second. “There you are, Aurora.” Serena approached, a glass of champagne in her hand, a sweet smile on her face. It was a smile full of malice. “Your little tricks seem to be working. Orion’s been so much softer on you lately. But it’s a waste of time. You’ll never take him from me. Do you really think he could ever love you? With a snap of my fingers, he’d toss you aside without a second thought.” She slowly backed toward the railing, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “Aurora, what do you think he would do if he knew you pushed me overboard out of jealousy? Do you think he’d tear you limb from limb?” Before I could react, she let out a piercing scream and threw herself over the side and into the dark water. Orion was there in an instant. He dove into the sea without hesitation. A lifeboat was lowered, and soon they were both back on deck. Serena slowly came to, clutching Orion’s sleeve, her face streaked with tears. “Orion, don’t blame Aurora… she just loves you so much… I can understand. It’s all my fault.” Every eye on the yacht turned to me. “I always thought Aurora was a pathetic lapdog, but it turns out she’s a vicious one.” “She pushed Serena overboard? Everyone knows Serena is the center of Orion’s universe.” “Who the hell does Aurora think she is?” Orion’s gaze, dark and murderous, fell on me. I knew that look. It was the look he always had right before he killed me. He had two of his men drag me to a ten-foot-tall glass water tank on the deck. I can’t swim. I thrashed wildly as they threw me in. Orion looked at me as if I were already dead. “Who gave you the right to touch Serena? It seems I’ve been too lenient with you.” The foul water filled my nose and mouth. My survival instinct kicked in, and I fought my way toward the surface, but he ordered his men to keep adding more water. Laughter echoed around me, a distorted, buzzing sound in my ears. That’s right. This was it. This was my purpose. Once I died, I would see Noah. I stopped fighting. My body sank to the bottom of the tank. Orion saw my stillness and assumed it was another act. “Stop pretending, Aurora. You think this will make me let you go?” “Aurora? Aurora!” I didn’t move. “AURORA! Drain the tank! Now!” I dreamed of a life where the car crash never happened. A life where Noah and I got married, had a child. A perfect, simple life. I woke up to find Orion staring down at me, his eyes a mixture of worry and forced indifference. I looked away, a wave of disappointment washing over me. I wasn’t dead yet. “Such a clever little game, Aurora. Push Serena into the sea, then pretend to drown yourself. Were you hoping I’d feel sorry for you?” “No, Orion. I just… didn’t know what else to do.” My weak, breathless state, in his eyes, was just proof of how hopelessly I loved him. “Serena is willing to forgive you. On one condition. She’s funding a psychological experiment. They need a subject to spend one day alone in a room with a… psychopath. Don’t worry, it’s all perfectly safe. You’ll be fine.” When I didn’t answer, he frowned. “You harmed Serena—” “I’ll do it, Orion. For you, I’ll do anything.” From the moment I met him, this was the role I played. A woman so gentle, so devoted, that he was my entire world. He never believed it, so he hurt me again and again, and I just kept coming back, determined to prove my love. He reached out and gently touched my cheek. “I promise you. After this, we’ll get married.” I lowered my head and nodded. I already knew how I would die this time. And there would be no one to stop me. I entered the room. Outside, a team of researchers monitored everything. I gave Orion one last smile and stepped inside. For some reason, a sharp pain lanced through his heart. He had a sudden, overwhelming urge to stop me. But then he looked at Serena, and he hardened his resolve. It was fine. It would all be over soon. He would marry me. He would make it up to me. After all this time, he was finally realizing that a life with me… might actually be a good thing. Inside, I played along for a few hours, dodging the deranged man’s attacks to avoid suspicion. Finally, he cornered me. As the ax swung toward my head, I didn’t flinch. I smiled and met it head-on. Blood pooled on the floor. [Ding! 100th death recorded. Reward disbursed. Host is now being transported back to the real world!] “AURORA!” In my final moment, I saw Orion burst into the room, his face a mask of horror as he ran toward my body. But this time, there was no one left to answer him.

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On our wedding anniversary, I unexpectedly found a pair of provocative lingerie in my wife’s car. Seething with anger, I drove directly to her law firm. As I approached the lounge, I overheard her conversation with her colleagues. “Ms. Shaw always seems so buttoned-up, I never expected her to be so wild in private,” a male voice teased. Another person chimed in, “Didn’t you know? Ms. Shaw and her childhood friend signed an agreement. As long as he’s not married, she has to help him with his ‘needs’.” “Poor Noah Vance, he still thinks Ms. Shaw is frigid,” someone laughed. My wife took a sip of coffee, her tone casual. “It’s fine. He’s been going on dates recently. Once he gets married, I’ll make up everything I owe him.” “Noah’s going to have a rough time after that, hahaha…” Everyone burst into laughter. I clamped my hand over my mouth, barely stifling a sob. 1 Walking down the street, utterly distraught, I couldn’t even remember how I got home. I smashed our wedding photo, staring blankly at the shattered fragments scattered across the floor. I don’t know how much time passed before Amelia Shaw’s voice came from behind me. “Noah, what are you doing?” She walked closer, her brows furrowed as she looked at the broken glass. “I know I’ve been busy with work lately and haven’t had time for you.” She continued, “But didn’t I say I’d make it up to you properly in a few days? Do you have to be like this?” I crouched on the floor, picking up the pieces of the wedding photo one by one. My finger was cut by a sharp edge of glass. A bead of blood welled up, dripping onto the white tile floor like a tiny red flower. I stared at the drop of blood for a few seconds, feeling no pain. My heart had shattered long before my finger. Amelia stood behind me, sighing. She pulled a tissue from the coffee table and offered it to me. “Alright, stop picking it up.” I didn’t take it. She then rummaged through a drawer, found a bandage, and bent down to put it on my finger. “I know I’ve neglected you lately; that’s my fault.” Her voice was soft, and her slender fingers wrapped around mine. “Once this busy period is over, I’ll take you to the Scottish Highlands, okay?” She asked, “Haven’t you always wanted to see the snow?” I looked at her, her expression earnest as she tried to soothe me. I wanted to laugh. And I wanted to cry. Three hours ago, I had heard her colleagues joking in the lounge. “Everyone knows about Ms. Shaw’s agreement with her childhood friend. As long as he’s not married, Ms. Shaw has to take care of his ‘needs’.” And now, she was still putting on an act for me. “Noah, Noah, are you listening?” I nodded. “Yeah, Scottish Highlands.” My voice was so flat it sounded alien even to me. Amelia probably thought I had calmed down and reached out to help me off the floor. Just then, the bedroom door opened. Harold Borle emerged from inside, wearing only a silk robe and rubbing his eyes. His hair was disheveled, his clothes unkempt. There were several glaring red marks on his neck and collarbone. Harold paused slightly when he saw us in the living room. Then he quickly pulled at the lapel of his robe, covering the marks on his neck. But his expression showed no panic at all. In fact, a faint, almost imperceptible smile played on his lips. “Amelia? Noah?” He tilted his head, his voice soft and sweet. “When did you two get back?” Amelia’s face changed. She glanced at me. Then she quickly walked over to Harold, whispering something to him. I couldn’t hear what she said. But I saw Harold pout, tugging at her sleeve, and whispered back, sounding wronged, “But I was asleep.” He added, “It’s all your fault for wearing me out.” As he said this, he deliberately glanced in my direction. My temples throbbed. Blood seeped from the edges of the bandage, dripping down between my fingers. I heard my breathing grow heavier and heavier. That phrase echoed repeatedly in my mind: “Poor Noah, he still thinks Ms. Shaw is frigid.” Frigid. I had been married to Amelia for five years. On our wedding night, she said she was too tired and told me to go to bed early. Every night after that, she was either working late, or entertaining clients, or simply slept in the study. I thought she was naturally low on desire. I was considerate of her, never bringing it up myself. To avoid putting any pressure on her, I even kept myself fully dressed at home. And what was the result? She wasn’t frigid. She just didn’t want to touch me. All her energy and passion were reserved for the man in front of me. I took one step forward. Then another. Harold Borle was still pretending to be innocent behind Amelia. I rushed forward and slapped him hard across the face. The sound was crisp and loud, echoing in the spacious living room. Harold shrieked, clutching his face as he stumbled backward. Amelia’s reaction was faster than I expected. She spun around, shielding Harold completely behind her. Then she turned back to me. Her gaze was so cold it sent chills through me from head to toe. “Noah, what the hell is wrong with you?” She demanded, “Harold was just staying the night; did you really need to hit him?” I stared intently at her back, shielding Harold. Five years. She had never once protected me with such a stance. “Staying the night?” My voice trembled. “Amelia Shaw, look at his neck. And then look at whose clothes he’s wearing.” Amelia’s frown deepened, her gaze avoiding mine. “What nonsense are you talking about?” Harold peeked out from behind her, his eyes red-rimmed, biting his lip in a pathetic display of hurt. “Amelia, darling… you misunderstood…” Harold huddled in Amelia’s arms, his body trembling slightly. He raised his hand, pressing it against his slightly red and swollen cheek. Tears began to stream down. “Amelia, it hurts so much…” He whimpered, “If Noah can’t stand me, I’ll leave right now… I don’t want you two to argue because of me…” His tear-streaked, pitiful act successfully provoked Amelia. Before I could react, she suddenly grabbed my wrist. I felt a tremendous force, and my body was brutally flung backward. My lower back slammed hard against the corner of a cabinet behind me. Intense pain instantly swept through my entire body. I gasped, my legs gave out, and I nearly crumpled to the ground. I gritted my teeth, desperately holding on, refusing to fall. Amelia clenched her fists, her voice cold. “Apologize to Harold Borle.” I looked up in disbelief, my eyes bloodshot. Apologize? Why should I? I practically screamed. “Never!” I yelled. “Why should I apologize to a pathetic excuse for a man who slept with someone else’s wife?” The moment I finished speaking, a flicker of anger crossed Amelia’s eyes. Her face was ashen. “Noah, I know you’ve never liked Harold Borle.” She took a step forward. “But there’s nothing going on between us.” Her thin lips parted, her gaze evasive. “Do you really have to use such vile words to insult him?” “Nothing going on?” “Amelia Shaw, do you think I’m an idiot?” I almost laughed aloud. I turned and walked into the walk-in closet, dragged out a suitcase, and started throwing clothes into it. My hands were shaking, and the items were stuffed in haphazardly. Amelia followed me to the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest. “Think carefully,” her voice came from behind me, icy cold. “Once you walk out that door, don’t even think about coming back.” My hand paused. Then I zipped up the suitcase and stood up. “Couldn’t ask for anything better.” Harold Borle’s soft sobs echoed from the living room. As I dragged the suitcase past them, I heard Harold whisper, “Amelia, darling, go after Noah. It’s all my fault…” Amelia didn’t move. I knew she wouldn’t follow. It was raining outside. A heavy rain. I hadn’t brought an umbrella. The wheels of the suitcase rolled through puddles, soaking my pant legs. I didn’t start crying until I walked out of the complex gates. Not for Amelia, but for these five years of my life. So foolish. Truly so foolish. The next morning, I went to the law firm to collect my personal belongings. I had worked as Amelia’s assistant for three years. Calling myself an assistant was a stretch; it was more like doing odd jobs. Serving tea and water, organizing files, greeting clients. The partners treated me as if I were invisible, openly mocking my marriage behind my back. And I, like an idiot, thought they were just being polite to me. The underground garage was quiet. I clutched a bag containing certificates and personal documents, looking down for my car keys. The sound of leather shoes echoed from afar. Clack, clack, clack. I looked up. Harold Borle stood leaning against my car, wearing a white shirt. He looked at me, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Noah, already leaving?” He tilted his head. “What a shame… Married for five years, and you probably never even saw all of your wife, did you?” I tightened my grip on the document bag, walked around him towards the driver’s seat. But he followed, his leather shoes clicking, and leaned close to my ear. “Let me tell you, Amelia is wild in bed.” He whispered, “It always lasts for hours.” He paused, then adopted a look of feigned realization. “Oh, my bad, you wouldn’t know.” My hands were shaking. “If that’s all you have to say,” I said, my voice strained. “Please, leave.” I opened the car door expressionlessly. Harold Borle suddenly rushed over, snatched the document bag from my hands, and dumped its contents into a puddle nearby. “What are you doing?!” I rushed to pick them up. The documents were already soaked in dirty water, the ink bleeding. “Smack!” “Smack!” Two sharp sounds came from behind me. I spun around. Harold Borle was forcefully slapping his own face. Once, twice. Hitting himself with extreme brutality. Within seconds, his cheeks were red and swollen. Then he directly collapsed to the ground, letting out a heart-wrenching scream. “Help… Stop hitting me… Noah, please stop hitting me…” Hurried footsteps approached from a distance. Amelia Shaw rushed from the garage entrance. She had originally been walking. Hearing Harold Borle’s screams, she immediately ran over, frantic. Harold Borle scrambled into her arms, burying his face in her shoulder. “Amelia, darling… I just came to tell Noah not to leave…” He whimpered, “But he not only hit me… he said he was going to kill me…” Amelia looked down at Harold Borle’s swollen face, and her entire demeanor changed. She strode over to me and snatched the car keys from my hand. “Noah.” Her voice was devoid of any warmth. “I thought a night to cool off would make you think straight.” She sneered. “I never imagined you could be so vicious.” “Amelia, he hit himself—” “Enough!” Her scream echoed through the garage. I clamped my mouth shut. The remaining words stuck in my throat, unable to be swallowed. She wouldn’t believe me. Never would. “Kneel.” Amelia stood before me, her face expressionless as she spoke the word. “Apologize to Harold Borle. Apologize until he forgives you.” My entire body froze. Kneel? She told me to kneel? “Amelia, he slapped himself! Check the surveillance—” “The surveillance cameras on this floor of the garage are broken,” Harold Borle suddenly blurted out from behind her. I turned to look at him, my fingers unconsciously clenching. He had deliberately chosen this spot. He had known there were no cameras here all along. “Amelia, darling…” Harold Borle began again. He softened his body, slowly sliding downwards. “My head feels a bit dizzy… Noah’s hitting me… it seemed pretty bad…” Amelia immediately rushed over, carefully supporting him. After a quick look, Amelia’s face became extremely grim. She turned and walked towards me. One hand grabbed my hair, pulling my head back. “Smack.” A slap landed on my face. My head buzzed. A second. A third. My lip was cut, and the taste of blood spread in my mouth. “Ame—” “Shut up. I don’t want to hear your excuses right now!” She kept hitting me. I don’t know how many slaps it took, but my knees gave out first, and I fell to the ground. Amelia stepped back, looking down at me as I knelt. “Those slaps are a lesson for you.” She warned. “If I ever find out you try to hurt Harold Borle again…” She crouched down, bringing her face close to mine. “Don’t test my patience.” She stood up, walked to Harold Borle, and bent down to help him up. Harold Borle leaned on her shoulder, mouthing a silent message to me. “Serves you right.” The engine started. The tires crunched over the puddles on the ground. Mud splashed all over my face and clothes. I knelt on the ground, my clothes covered in blood, water, and mud. The documents were scattered everywhere, completely ruined. The underground garage was empty, the lights stark and pale. I tried to get up. My arms were useless. I tried twice but couldn’t stand, falling back down. My vision began to blur. It was exhaustion. Or perhaps my heart had died, and my body simply refused to move. Through the haze, blinding headlights flashed. A black Maybach silently pulled up in front of me. The car door opened. A pair of hands lifted me from the ground. I smelled a faint, woody perfume. So clean. Utterly out of place in this dirty environment. Before I completely lost consciousness, I heard an unfamiliar woman’s voice.

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1 Drifting between life and death, I finally understood. I could hear my wife, Seraphina, and her lover, Rick, clearly now. Rick was growing impatient. He wanted to know when she’d tell me our son wasn’t actually missing. He couldn’t wait to see the look on my face. But Sera just laughed. There was no hurry, she said. It was my fault for making her get rid of the baby years ago. This was my punishment. She’d tell me the truth once she decided I’d learned my lesson. So that was it. Four years of living hell—not a tragedy, but a sentence. A spectral tear fell. She’d gotten exactly what she wanted. It started four years ago. I’d stepped out of the car for a minute during an argument. When I returned, our son was gone. From then on, I lost my mind. I searched like a man possessed, drowning in guilt every waking moment. Her mother blamed me endlessly. My own mother cried herself to sleep each night. Sera would scream at me, telling me to die, swearing she’d divorce me if I didn’t find our boy. For four years, I gave up everything—my career, my life, my sanity. I chased 99 false leads across the country, each one carving away another piece of me. My body became a map of self-inflicted scars. Depression consumed me whole. On the 100th lead, something inside me snapped. I couldn’t go on. I swallowed a full bottle of sleeping pills. I died in my son’s nursery, wanting to be close to him in the end. Seraphina opened the bedroom door, saw I wasn’t there, and assumed I hadn’t come home yet. She turned, pulling Rick with her, and they fell onto our bed. Her voice was casual. “He probably fell for another scam artist. God knows what ditch he’s ended up in this time.” Rick roared with laughter. “It wouldn’t be the first time. I’ve never seen anyone so gullible. He believes anything anyone tells him.” “Remember that time he ran off into the mountains? Nearly didn’t make it back. When the cops found him, his clothes were torn and he was waving a knife around like a lunatic. There were three guys on the ground… who knows what happened there.” At that, the temperature around Seraphina dropped. She shoved him away. Rick knew he’d said the wrong thing. He quickly wrapped his arms around her neck, kissing her skin. “Sorry, Sera. I won’t talk about it. It’s been so long…” She flipped him onto his back, a wicked smile playing on her lips. “Don’t think for a second I’m jealous. I just can’t stand how pathetic he is.” “If he had just learned to look the other way back then, I never would have left him.” “But he has a man’s blood on his hands. He deserves every bit of this. He has no one to blame but himself.” With that, their clothes scattered to the floor. On the bed where we had made love countless times, their bodies tangled together in a desperate heat. I thought death was supposed to be the end of pain, but my heart felt like it was being pierced by a thousand needles. I remembered it so clearly. She was the one on her knees, clinging to me. “Finn, please don’t leave me. I was drunk, I thought he was you. I’ll get rid of the baby, I swear. Just believe me.” But I couldn’t forgive her. I insisted on a divorce. She went insane, dragging Rick in front of me to apologize. Then she went and had the abortion herself. My resolve crumbled. After months of torment, I forgave her. And my reward was being played for a fool for four years. Their moans echoed through the house until the dead of night. Finally, breathless, Seraphina seemed to remember me. She frowned, looking toward the front door. “Where the hell is Finn? Not even a text to say he’s not coming home.” She picked up her phone and called me. After a few seconds of silence, my phone began to ring, its shrill tone cutting through the house. Seraphina froze, her head snapping toward the nursery. A flicker of malicious glee crossed Rick’s face, hidden behind a mask of pretend concern. “When did Finn get back? You think he heard us?” Seraphina threw on her clothes and stormed toward the nursery. I floated behind them, watching her hesitate, her hand hovering over the doorknob. Finally, with a creak, she pushed it open and walked to the bed. I was curled up under the covers. Her face flushed with anger. She thought I was ignoring her on purpose. “Finn, if you know, then there’s no point in hiding it anymore.” “Yes, I took Max. But you were the one who was wrong first.” She glanced at me, her voice flat. “As long as you don’t make trouble, we can keep living like this.” The silence stretched on for a full minute. Her expression soured. She let out a cold, sharp laugh. “You’re going to play dead with me? Fine. Let’s see how long you can keep it up!” I watched her rage, her curses washing over me. I felt nothing. I was almost curious to see the look on her face when she finally realized. She slammed the door on her way out. But a few minutes later, she returned, holding the hand of a four-year-old boy. My eyes flew open. It was him. It was my son, Max. He had my eyes. Tears streamed from my spectral form. I rushed forward to hold him, only to pass right through his small body. Seraphina’s voice was triumphant as she pushed him onto the bed. “I left him with my mother. He’s back now. Are you happy?” Then, she and Rick left again. That monster. That absolute monster! Leaving a child this small alone! In the pitch-black room, Max began to cry, his small sobs echoing in the silence. My heart shattered. I tried to comfort him, my voice a useless whisper. “Max, don’t cry, Max. Daddy’s here…” But I was the fool. The living can’t hear the dead. Max curled up next to my body, eventually crying himself to sleep. I watched him, my soul aching with a love so fierce it was agony. He had to be so scared, so hungry. Even in sleep, his face was a mask of pain. I stayed by his side all night. The next morning, he sat up, rubbing his eyes. His small voice was filled with panic. “Grandma? Where are you? Max is hungry…” He looked at the unmoving lump of my body beside him. After a moment’s hesitation, he whispered, “Mister? Can you get up and find Max something to eat?” “Max is a good boy. Just a little bit is okay.” After a long silence, he slid off the bed, his shoulders slumped. He picked up a small bottle from the floor. My soul screamed. It was the bottle of sleeping pills. There were still a few left inside. My heart leaped into my throat. Max’s face lit up. “Candy!” He shook a few pills into his palm, then glanced back at my body. “I’ll only eat three, mister,” he bargained. “I’m so, so hungry.” He raised his hand to his mouth. “NO!” I shrieked, a useless, silent sound, rushing to stop him, but I was nothing but air. The door flew open with a bang. It was Seraphina. She saw what Max was doing and her eyes widened in horror. She lunged forward, jamming her fingers into his mouth. “Spit it out! Spit it out right now!” Max started wailing, terrified. “Don’t hit me! I won’t do it again, Mommy, I promise!” Only when she was sure his mouth was empty did the color return to her face. She looked at me, her eyes filled with disgust. Before she could speak, Rick pointed an accusing finger. “Finn, what the hell is wrong with you? He’s just a kid! You could have killed him.” “I know you’re pissed that Sera took him, but you can’t take it out on Max!” He spat his venom at me, and Seraphina just stood there, watching. If they had just looked closer, they would have seen the waxy, yellow pallor of my skin, the faint, sweet smell of decay. But my last hope was misplaced. After a few minutes, she picked up Max and walked out. She took him to get lunch, but her mind was elsewhere. She checked her phone. It had been nearly two days since we had last spoken. A strange anxiety began to creep in. I never gave her the silent treatment. I had told her once, “If there’s a problem, let’s face it head-on. Don’t run from it.” Even when I’d caught her cheating, as broken as I was, I hadn’t backed down. A sudden, jarring thought hit her. Maybe something had actually happened to me. She shot to her feet, muttering to herself. “Something’s not right. This isn’t like him.” She turned to rush home, but Rick’s voice stopped her. “I saw Finn get up to eat yesterday.” Seraphina paused, turning back slowly. “He got up yesterday?” Rick nodded, a sheepish look on his face. “Yeah. I tried to talk to him, but he just told me to get lost…” Seraphina’s face hardened into a mask of pure contempt. She laughed twice, a harsh, grating sound, and sat back down. “I knew it. He was faking it. All that crap about loving his son was an act. He almost got Max killed!” I floated above them, a bitter laugh escaping my spectral lips. I wasn’t faking it. I was really dead. I looked at the triumphant smirk on Rick’s face and wondered if he’d still be smiling when the truth finally came out. I drifted back to the house and kept watch over my own body for a few more hours. My phone rang again. It was my mother. She must have known something was wrong when I hadn’t messaged her for two days. She called three times. Then, silence. Less than half an hour later, she was at the door, breathless and terrified. She rushed straight to the master bedroom. “Finn? Finn!” Not finding me, she checked the guest room, and finally, the nursery. “AH! FINN!” Her scream tore through the quiet afternoon. I couldn’t bear to watch what came next. My mother’s sobs were a physical force, shaking the whole house as she rocked my lifeless body. “How could you leave me all alone! How am I supposed to live now!” A few hours later, she took me away. When the door opened again, it was Seraphina, reeking of alcohol. She pushed Rick away and stumbled toward the nursery. “Finn, you son of a bitch, how long are you going to play dead?!” She stopped short. The bed was empty. I was gone. Her heart gave a painful lurch. A cold smile spread across her face. “Couldn’t keep up the act, huh? Decided to run away from home? Fine! Get the hell out and don’t ever come back.” She collapsed onto the living room sofa. Rick wrinkled his nose in disgust. “He could have at least cleaned up before he left. The whole place stinks. It’s making me sick.” Seraphina didn’t seem to hear him. A thought occurred to her. She went to our bedroom and yanked open the closet. All of my clothes were still there. She breathed a sigh of relief. “I thought he had some nerve. Didn’t even pack a bag. He just wants me to come begging for him to come back. Ha. In his dreams.” Her mind at ease, she even had Rick move in. “Since he doesn’t want this life, let’s see how long he can last without it.” I watched it all, a ghost in my own home. For the next few days, Seraphina partied, dragging Rick to every social event she could. But she wasn’t happy. A dark cloud seemed to hang over her, growing heavier each day. Finally, on the seventh day of my disappearance, she broke. She brought Max back to the house. She opened my messaging app and ordered Max to record a voice note. Max, terrified, wouldn’t speak. Her face darkened. “Say it!” she roared. “Are you deaf? I told you to call for your daddy! Do you hear me?!” The boy’s fear peaked, and he burst into tears. Rage consumed me. I wanted to tear her limb from limb. He was just a child. She would do anything to torment me. “Daddy… Daddy, Daddy…” She got what she wanted and sent the voice note. Finn, do you even want your son anymore? What kind of father lets him cry like this? Rick came over and put his arms around her. “Don’t be angry, Sera. If he’s going to be like this, why do you even care? The man doesn’t deserve to be a father.” Seraphina was silent for a long time, staring at her phone, which remained silent. She couldn’t take it anymore. She called me. Once. Twice. Three times. Nothing. With a crash, she threw her phone against the wall. Rick was stunned. He couldn’t understand why she was so furious. “Sera, the kid’s right here… don’t get so worked up. We can just get a divorce. It’s not worth it.” The word “divorce” seemed to stab her. Her eyes turned red. She started to laugh. “A divorce? And let him off that easy?” She took a deep breath, picked up the shattered phone, and dialed my mother. After a long series of rings, my mother answered on the last one. Before she could speak, Seraphina blurted out, “Mom, where is Finn? I need to talk to him.” My mother’s voice was a raw rasp, each word scraped from her throat. “You will never see him again in this life, you monster. I hope you’re satisfied.” Seraphina froze. Before she could ask what she meant, the line went dead. Her face flushed with rage. She cursed, then typed a furious message to my dead number. Finn, you want out? Fine. I’ll give you what you want. Get your ass back here and I’ll give you a goddamn divorce! Still no reply. Hearing the word “divorce,” Rick’s face lit up. He rushed to the bedroom to find the paperwork. But when he came back out, Seraphina was grabbing the still-sobbing Max and storming out the door. “Sera, where are you going?! Sera!” She peeled out of the driveway without a backward glance. I floated into the back seat with Max, my soul consumed by hatred. You bitch, where are you going in such a rush? You don’t care if you crash, but what about my son?! I soon saw her destination. She stood on my mother’s doorstep, panting, and began to hammer on the door. “Finn, open the door! I know you’re in there! Stop being a coward! Say what you have to say to my face!” With a slow creak, the door opened. Seraphina’s angry expression hadn’t had time to fade before it froze, replaced by a look of sheer, uncomprehending horror.

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My husband, Carter, had a first love named Jessica. Once, Jessica got into a shouting match with a guy over a minor biking accident. To help her vent her frustration, Carter abused his power as a police captain and threw the man in a holding cell on bogus charges. That petty act of favoritism left the man with a criminal record and a heart full of venom. Sometime later, that same man kicked down the door to my in-laws’ house. He held Carter’s parents and his younger sister hostage with a hunting knife, demanding that Carter show up and apologize. Panicking, I called Carter. But he was too busy picking up Jessica’s son from kindergarten. Not only did he refuse to believe me, but he also cursed me out, calling me a vicious, jealous bitch. He said my lies were pathetic and asked who I was putting this show on for. In desperation, I dialed 911. The emergency dispatcher who answered the call was none other than Jessica. Over the line, she laughed at me. She called me a lunatic, accused me of cursing Carter’s family, and labeled me a psycho. She warned me to never call again, threatening to have Carter arrest me for making a false report. Eventually, the intruder lost his mind waiting for Carter. Right in front of my eyes, he brought his hunting knife down on my in-laws and my sister-in-law. 1 I went to visit my husband’s parents for our usual weekly dinner. The moment I pushed the front door open, I froze. A stocky man in his fifties was standing in the living room, clutching a serrated hunting knife. His wild eyes locked onto me. “Do not take another step! You walk in here, and I kill them all!” On the living room floor, my father-in-law Arthur, my mother-in-law Helen, and my sister-in-law Sarah were bound tightly with thick rope. The man had his heavy work boot pressed firmly against Arthur’s head. Seeing me, Arthur struggled to lift himself up. The man immediately delivered a brutal kick to Arthur’s stomach. “Don’t move! You twitch again, and you are the first to die!” He pointed the bloody tip of the knife at my chest. “Stay back! Who are you? Where is that bastard Carter?” “He locked me up. Because of him, my son got rejected from the military, and my daughter lost her college scholarship. He ruined my entire family. If he does not come here and fix this today, I am going to slaughter his.” It hit me. This was Gary. Jessica had gotten into a minor scrape with him while riding her bike. To play the hero for his ex-girlfriend, Carter used his badge to charge Gary with assault and locked him up. Carter had even bragged about it to me at home. Now Gary was out, and he had come for blood. His screaming echoed down the hall. Neighbors began creeping out of their apartments, crowding the stairwell in absolute shock. Seeing Gary’s hand shaking with rage, I held my hands up slowly. “Gary, please. I am Carter’s wife. Do not do anything stupid. I am calling him right now. I will make him come here.” My hands trembled violently as I pulled out my phone and dialed Carter’s number. When he finally answered, I frantically explained the nightmare unfolding in his parents’ living room, begging him to get there immediately. Instead of panic, Carter’s voice dripped with absolute disgust. “Rachel, are you mentally ill? I am helping Jessica pick up her kid for one afternoon, and you invent a horror story like this?” “Jessica has a shift at the dispatch center today, so I promised to take Tyler to the amusement park. Stop annoying me.” Click. He hung up. Because my phone was on speaker, Gary and every neighbor in the hallway heard every single word. Whispers broke out behind me. “What kind of son is that? He is a cop, and he won’t even save his own family?” “Did you hear him? He is busy playing daddy to another woman’s kid.” “He is worse than an animal. Arthur raised a monster.” Gary’s face twisted into something demonic. Seeing him grip the knife tighter, I dropped to my knees on the hardwood floor. “Please! I am begging you, please do not hurt them!” I slammed my forehead against the floor, ignoring the sharp pain. “I will get him here! Give me a few more minutes, please!” Carter wasn’t answering anymore. I had no choice but to call the station. I dialed 911. The line clicked open. “911, what is your emergency?” The voice belonged to Jessica. Carter had pulled strings to get her a temp job at the emergency dispatch center. I didn’t care who it was. I screamed our address and told her a man was holding Carter’s family hostage with a knife. “Get Carter here now! If he doesn’t come, his parents and sister are going to die!” A cold, mocking laugh echoed through the receiver. “Rachel, have you completely lost your mind? Just to stop Carter from spending time with my son, you are cursing his own parents to die? You really are a wonderful wife.” “The emergency line is not your personal drama hotline. If you fake another report, I will have you thrown in a cell.” The line went dead. The neighbors behind me saw what happened and immediately pulled out their own phones to call 911. Every single one of them was met with Jessica’s threats and hung up on. Realizing Carter was never coming, Gary completely snapped. “Fine! He ruined my family, so nobody gets to live!” Gary grabbed a fistful of Arthur’s gray hair, yanked his head back, and dragged the hunting knife across his throat. Blood coated the living room. 2 Gary ran. After slashing Arthur’s throat, he drove the blade deep into Helen’s chest. Both of them died on the floor. I only managed to throw myself in front of Sarah. In his psychotic rage, Gary wanted to make Sarah suffer. He slashed her face open, then drove the knife straight through her hand, pinning it to the floorboards. He ran out the door waving the bloody knife. The terrified neighbors scattered, completely powerless to stop him as he disappeared into the busy city streets. By the time I got Sarah’s bleeding body into the emergency room, the local police finally showed up at the hospital. Deputy Blake walked up to me. He looked at the harsh red light of the operating room, his face pale with horror. “Rachel, what the hell happened? Why didn’t you call us?” I sat slumped in the corner of the hallway, shivering uncontrollably. “I did. The dispatcher said I was making a fake report.” “I called your captain. He was too busy picking up a kid.” Blake looked confused. “A kid? What kid? You and the Captain don’t have kids.” I looked up, meeting his eyes. “Not mine. Jessica’s kid.” “She was the one on the 911 line. She told me I was crazy and threatened to arrest me.” Blake slammed his fist into the hospital wall. “This is completely insane! I am calling him right now.” He pulled out his radio phone and dialed Carter’s personal number. When Carter picked up, Blake didn’t hold back. “Carter, where the hell are you!” Carter’s tone immediately turned hostile. “Blake, remember your rank. I am the Captain. You don’t get to interrogate me.” “I am at the airport terminal. Make it quick, I am busy.” “The airport? What the hell are you doing at the airport?” “I have been working too hard, and the station is quiet. Jessica and Tyler have been begging to go to the Bahamas. I took my annual leave to take them on a vacation to relax.” Blake let out a hollow, furious laugh. “Carter, your mother and father are dead. Your sister is currently bleeding out in an operating room. And you are taking a vacation? Is your brain rotting?” Carter scoffed over the line. “Blake, I thought we were friends. I can’t believe you are teaming up with my psycho wife to play this sick joke.” “Do not think I don’t know you guys orchestrated this. What did Rachel promise you to make you curse my family like this?” “I am spending the next few days with Jessica and her boy. Do not call this number again.” The call disconnected. Blake tried calling back immediately, but it went straight to voicemail. The phone was off. At that exact moment, the red light above the operating room flicked off. 3 The surgeon pushed through the swinging doors, peeling off his bloody gloves. “Family of Sarah Winston?” I scrambled to my feet. “I am. I am her sister-in-law.” The doctor looked utterly defeated. “We saved her life. But the laceration on her right cheek was extremely deep. It is going to leave a severe scar. As for her right hand… the tissue and nerve damage was catastrophic. We had no choice but to amputate at the wrist.” “She lost a massive amount of blood. She is in a coma and being moved to the ICU.” In a fraction of a second, every ounce of strength evaporated from my bones. The fluorescent lights blurred, the room spun, and I collapsed backward. A couple of nurses caught me under the arms and guided me to a plastic waiting chair. Sitting there, the tears finally broke loose. Carter and I had been married for five years. I had moved across the country for him, leaving my own family behind. Whenever Carter and I fought, Arthur and Helen always took my side. Sarah treated me like her own flesh and blood. Whenever Carter made me cry, Sarah would literally point her finger in his face and scream at him. They never let me feel alone in that house. I loved them far more than I ever loved Carter. And now, because of Carter’s pathetic ego and his obsession with another woman, he had personally handed his parents a death sentence and mutilated his own sister. I dragged my exhausted body to the billing counter and paid for Sarah’s ICU room. Standing behind the thick glass pane, looking at the vibrant, college-graduated girl reduced to a broken body covered in bandages and tubes, my chest caved in. She didn’t even have her right hand anymore. Blake called Carter’s phone until his battery died. It stayed off. He tried calling Jessica’s number. It rang twice and then went to voicemail. They were fully committed to their romantic getaway. I didn’t have the energy to care about his affairs anymore. Aside from giving statements to the detectives, I had to arrange a funeral for my in-laws and keep a 24-hour watch over Sarah. The gruesome double homicide had already made the local news. The rumor mill was working overtime. I stayed awake for two days straight until Sarah finally opened her eyes. When she saw me through the ICU glass, tears poured down her bandaged face. The doctors warned me to keep her stress levels low, so I lied and told her to focus on healing, hiding the truth about her parents. Three days later, the medical examiner released the bodies. I arranged the cremation. Walking out of the crematorium, I placed two wooden urns on the back seat of my car. I started the engine, looking at the polished wood in the rearview mirror. “Dad, Mom, we are going home.” 4 Sarah was young, and her physical recovery was fast. By the fifth day, she was moved to a regular room. When I finally broke the news about her parents, she didn’t scream. She just stared at the wall and gave a slow, numb nod. I was terrified the shock had broken her mind. “Sarah, please cry. Do not hold it in. I am right here. I am not going anywhere.” She slowly turned her head. She stared into my eyes with a chilling emptiness. A long minute passed before a gut-wrenching wail tore from her throat. I wrapped my arms around her trembling shoulders, holding her tight. “Let it out. I’ve got you.” Because she was sobbing so violently, the stitches on her face tore open. I had to run to the hallway and scream for a doctor. As the doctor methodically re-stitched her torn cheek, Sarah laid there perfectly still. Her calmness was terrifying. “Rachel, where is my brother?” she asked bluntly the moment the doctor left. “Sarah, he…” I stammered, completely lost on how to explain the disgusting truth. “Forget it. You don’t have to say it.” Sarah let out a ragged sigh. “When that guy kicked our door down and tied us up, screaming about my brother, I knew Carter had ruined someone’s life.” She covered her eyes with her remaining hand, her body shaking. “I just never thought he would let Mom and Dad die for it.” I had temporarily placed the urns in my home office. I was waiting for Sarah to be discharged so we could bury them together. She was their daughter; it was her right to be there. As for Carter, I truly did not care if he lived or died. Even if you ignored the two dead bodies and the severed hand, his blatant affair was enough to make my skin crawl. I could never sleep in the same bed as him again. Now, every time I heard his name, all I saw was the gaping wound on Sarah’s face, the ocean of blood on the floor, and the absolute despair in Arthur’s eyes before the knife fell. I sat in silence, holding her shoulder. “Rachel,” Sarah whispered into the sterile hospital room. “After all this, do you still consider me your family?” I nodded hard. “Yes. I will be your sister for the rest of my life. Once you are healed, I will take you to the best plastic surgeons in the country. We will fix your face.” “Rachel, I heard you on the phone that day. I heard everything he said.” Her voice turned to absolute ice. “I want him and that bitch to burn in hell.”

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The day I interviewed at Lumina Dynamics, their Director of Technology tore my resume to pieces in front of everyone. He sneered, asking what gave someone from a diploma mill the right to even be here, and told me to get the hell out. The other interviewers around him erupted in laughter. I didn’t react. I just calmly bent down and picked up the scattered pieces, one by one. I looked up at him, a small smile playing on my lips. “Very well, Marcus,” I told him. “In half an hour, you will receive a formal email from Vanguard Corp terminating all of our contracts with your company.” He laughed even harder, mocking me. “Who the hell do you think you are, daydreaming in my office?” Exactly thirty minutes later, the CEO of Lumina Dynamics burst into the interview room, his face pale with panic. He slapped the still-clueless tech director across the face, his voice cracking with rage. “You absolute moron! Do you have any idea whose resume you just ripped to shreds?” 1 The sweltering air in Lumina Dynamics’ interview room 203 was a solid, suffocating thing, like a cheap sponge soaked in filth, refusing to yield a single drop of fresh oxygen. I was dressed for this undercover mission in a carefully chosen white shirt and a pair of faded jeans. No makeup, and my hair was pulled back in the most unremarkable ponytail imaginable. To them, I looked like any other recent graduate, anxious and uncertain about the future. Across from me sat the company’s Director of Technology, Marcus. He was a man in his forties, his hair shellacked with too much gel, gleaming under the fluorescent lights. Behind a pair of gold-rimmed glasses, his eyes sized me up like a piece of cheap merchandise. He pinched my forged resume between his fingers. His crudely manicured nail scraped impatiently across the words “Oakwood Community College,” making a grating sound. “Oakwood Community College… What the hell is that? Some diploma mill next to a strip club?” His voice wasn’t loud, but it was sharp and dripping with undisguised contempt. The other interviewers beside him exchanged knowing glances, smirks they couldn’t quite suppress. They were like a pack of Roman patricians watching a spectacle, and I was the lowly gladiator about to be thrown to the lions. I remained silent, watching him as if he were the star of some terrible, low-budget play that had nothing to do with me. My silence seemed to infuriate him. He’d probably expected me to tremble with fear, to wither under the weight of his authority. He shot to his feet, holding the single sheet of paper in front of my face. With a sharp, violent rip, he tore my “resume” in half. And then again. The pieces rained down like toxic confetti, landing around my sneakers. “Does a piece of trash from a worthless school like this really think she can interview here?” He was practically spitting as he spoke. “Listen here, little girl. Lumina only hires the best, from the Ivy League! Someone like you isn’t even qualified to get us coffee. Now take your garbage and get the hell out!” The laughter, no longer restrained, exploded in the small room. One of the female interviewers even covered her mouth in an exaggerated gasp, shooting Marcus a fawning look. “You’ve got a sharp eye, Marcus,” she cooed. “These desperate wannabes trying to sneak into big companies need to be put in their place.” The humiliation was meant to be a thousand tiny needles, piercing my composure. But I felt nothing. It was all just… absurdly comical. This was the core supplier Vanguard Corp paid seven million dollars a year? This was the ace director in charge of our most sensitive technical integration? The management was a chaotic mess, rife with nepotism, rotten to its core. The risk of a data leak was a hundred times more severe than even Mr. Sinclair had predicted. I bent down. Under their mocking gazes, I slowly, deliberately, picked up every single piece of my “humiliation.” Then I straightened up, walked to the polished mahogany table, and placed the fragments gently on its gleaming surface. I lifted my eyes to meet Marcus’s, his face twisted with arrogance, and offered him a slight smile. “Very well, Marcus.” My voice was quiet, but it had a strange, cutting quality that silenced the room. “In half an hour, you’ll be receiving a formal email from Vanguard Corp’s legal department. It will inform you that every single one of our contracts with this company is terminated.” After a moment of dead silence, Marcus erupted as if he’d just heard the funniest joke in the world. He laughed so hard his greasy glasses nearly slid off his nose. “Vanguard Corp? Hahaha! Who the hell do you think you are? Some community college idiot, coming to my turf to daydream?” He pointed a finger at me, then turned to the others. “Can you believe this? I call out her bullshit and she completely loses it. Starts spouting absolute nonsense.” The others joined in his laughter, though it was a little weaker this time, tinged with an uncertainty my words had planted. I didn’t spare the clowns another glance. I turned and pulled open the door. The fluorescent lights in the hallway were harsh. I took out my phone and dialed a number on my speed dial. He picked up on the first ring. “Victoria, how did it go?” Mr. Sinclair’s deep, steady voice came through the line. I leaned against the cool wall, gazing out at the gray city skyline. My tone was as flat as if I were deciding on a salad for lunch. “Mr. Sinclair, about that seven-million-dollar annual renewal with Lumina… I don’t think we’ll be needing it.” “Their people just tore up my resume. In front of a room full of their staff.” The line was silent for three full seconds. Then, Mr. Sinclair’s voice returned, low and laced with a terrifying, controlled fury. “I understand. Handle it your way. The firm’s legal and marketing departments are on standby.” After hanging up, I didn’t leave. I waited. I waited for the devastating email to reach its destination. I waited for the C4 I had just planted to detonate inside this seemingly solid corporate tower. Less than twenty minutes later, a frantic, chaotic pounding of footsteps echoed from the end of the hall, accompanied by a man’s panicked, voice-cracking shriek. “Marcus! Where is that goddamn idiot?!” I watched with detached amusement as a man with a severely receding hairline, his bespoke suit soaked through with cold sweat, practically sprinted toward me. It was Lumina’s CEO, Arthur Carlson. I’d seen his picture at a few annual supplier summits. His personal assistant trailed behind him, her face just as pale, nearly tripping in her high heels. Arthur spotted me leaning against the wall, and the color drained from his face. He looked like he’d just seen a ghost. He practically threw himself in my direction, screeching to a halt a few feet away, heaving for breath, his chest rising and falling violently. Before I could say a word, he had already stormed into interview room 203. The next sound was a slap so sharp and loud it seemed to echo through the entire floor. It was followed by Arthur’s furious, near-hysterical roar. “You brainless idiot! Do you have any idea whose resume you just ripped to shreds?!” I strolled back to the doorway, leaning lazily against the frame to enjoy the magnificent chaos unfolding within. Marcus was clutching his rapidly swelling face, his gold-rimmed glasses knocked clear across the room. He was completely stunned. “Mr. Carlson… I… she was just some fraud…” Arthur spun around like a cornered lion. But the moment his eyes landed on me, he instantly deflated into a trembling quail. He bowed deeply, his voice shaking like a leaf in a storm. “Ms. Victoria! A misunderstanding! This is a terrible, terrible misunderstanding! I was blind, my people are incompetent, please, I beg you, don’t take it to heart!” Marcus was dumbfounded. He pointed at me, then looked at his groveling boss, stammering, “What’s going on? Who the hell is she?” As if his tail had been stepped on, Arthur whirled back around and kicked Marcus squarely in the kneecap. “Who is she?!” he screamed. “She’s our biggest client! She’s Vanguard Corp’s Chief Marketing Officer, Victoria! That seven-million-dollar contract? It was her signature on the bottom line!” A bomb had just gone off in the room. The interviewers who had been laughing so freely just moments ago were now chalk-white, their throats so tight they looked like they’d forgotten how to breathe. Their gazes darted between my simple white shirt and the pile of shredded paper from the “diploma mill,” their eyes filled with a mixture of raw terror and utter disbelief. I stepped into the room, took the last piece of the resume I’d been holding, and gently placed it on top of the messy pile. My eyes were like arctic ice as I scanned each of their faces, finally landing on Arthur, who was shaking uncontrollably. “Mr. Carlson, is this how you screen your talent?” “Is this the kind of man you have managing our highest-level technical integration?” Every word was a frozen dagger plunging into his heart. Sweat poured down Arthur’s forehead in rivers, dripping onto the carpet. He grabbed Marcus by his silk tie, his spit flying. “Marcus! You’re fired! Effective immediately! Get your shit and get out of this building! Now!” I watched the pathetic display, a cold, mocking smile on my lips. “Fired?” “Do you really think firing one useless employee is enough to compensate for the insult he paid to me, and to all of Vanguard Corp?” I took out my phone, opened my email, and turned the screen toward him. The harshly worded “Notice of Contract Termination,” drafted by Vanguard’s top legal team, glowed on the screen. “The termination notice has been sent. A formal letter from our lawyers will be delivered to your desk shortly.” Arthur stared at the screen, his legs giving out from under him. He collapsed onto the expensive Persian rug, his eyes vacant. “It’s over,” he muttered, his voice hollow with despair. “It’s all over.” I didn’t waste another look on the pathetic man. I turned and walked away, my steps crisp and decisive. At the door, I paused. Without looking back, I delivered one last line that sent him plunging into an icy abyss. “Mr. Carlson, this is only the beginning.” 2 Returning to my penthouse office in Vanguard Corp’s Manhattan headquarters was like stepping out of a filthy, oppressive bog and back into my absolute kingdom. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city skyline glittered, a forest of steel and glass exuding a cold, arrogant light. The air inside was perfectly climate-controlled, scented with my favorite white tea aromatherapy. Mr. Sinclair had already prepared a pot of impossibly rare Darjeeling tea. The rising steam softened the features of his face, a face weathered by decades of navigating the brutal seas of commerce. “You’re back. I’m sorry you had to go through that.” He pushed a cup of the amber liquid toward me. His tone held none of the coldness of a chairman, only the warmth and concern of a mentor. I shook my head, lifting the delicate bone china. Its warmth spread through my fingertips, chasing away the last of the cheap chill I’d picked up at Lumina. “It was nothing.” I took a small sip and looked at the man across from me. “The fish is even dumber and more vicious than I imagined. Lumina’s management is rotten from the top down.” This “undercover” operation had been a top-secret directive from Sinclair himself. For the past six months, the technical specs for several of Vanguard’s flagship products were being precisely countered by our arch-rival, OmniCore, just before launch. We had run countless internal audits, scoured our firewalls, and reviewed every NDA until our eyes bled, but we couldn’t find a single leak. The only remaining suspect was our core component supplier: Lumina Dynamics. But we had no hard evidence. In this world, moving without proof would only spook our prey. So, I’d orchestrated this little drama, disguising myself as a nobody applicant to get a feel for Lumina’s internal culture. I just never expected them to rip off their own mask for me before I even had a chance to start probing. I set down my cup and gave my boss my assessment. “This Marcus guy is arrogant and stupid. He doesn’t have the brains to be the mastermind behind a sophisticated corporate espionage plot. At his level, he’s a gofer at best—a dog let off its leash to bark at the door. There’s a much bigger fish hiding behind him.” A chilling glint flashed in Mr. Sinclair’s deep-set eyes. He nodded slowly. “Do what you need to do. The entire firm’s resources are at your disposal.” His tone shifted, taking on the unique ruthlessness of a top-tier capitalist. “Besides, it’s high time we cleaned up this supply chain. A company with no respect for its clients doesn’t deserve to survive.” With the chairman’s blessing, there was nothing left to hold me back. I returned to my desk, opened a secure channel, and convened an emergency video conference with the heads of Legal and Marketing. My orders, delivered over an encrypted network, were precise and lethal. “Legal, I want every contract we’ve had with Lumina for the past five years. I want you to go through them with a goddamn magnifying glass and find every single breach. Delivery delays, defect rates, spec failures—anything and everything.” On the screen, the head of Legal pushed up his glasses, a predatory glint in his eyes. “Leave it to me, Victoria. There are enough penalty clauses in these old contracts to strip them bare.” I smiled, satisfied. “Once you have the evidence, prepare to file a lawsuit. I want maximum punitive damages. I want them to vomit up every last cent they’ve ever earned from us, with interest.” I then turned my attention to the Director of Marketing. “Marketing, activate Plan B. Contact our backup suppliers and open top-priority negotiations. I want a new letter of intent on my desk within three days.” I slowed my speech, adding weight to my next words. “And I want you to let Wall Street Journal and a few of the tech blogs in the Valley know, ‘accidentally on purpose,’ that we’ve dropped Lumina from our core supply chain due to ‘gross misconduct and extreme managerial incompetence.’” The marketing director grinned, giving me a thumbs-up. “Understood. The leak will be very… ‘accidental.’” The meeting ended. A series of fatal blows was already hurtling toward the enemy. I leaned back in my leather chair, waiting for the market to deliver its verdict. It didn’t take long. My phone began vibrating incessantly on the desk. Real-time updates from my team. “Victoria, Lumina’s pre-market stock is starting to dip.” “Boss, three of their downstream partners are blowing up our PR lines, trying to figure out what’s going on.” “It’s already hitting the tech forums. The story is trending.” Meanwhile, Arthur’s calls came in one after another, like a death knell. I glanced at the flashing name on the screen and hit decline every time. His text messages flooded my inbox, a pathetic cascade of begging. “Ms. Victoria, for the love of God, please give me another chance!” “We’ve worked together for so many years! Think of our history!” “Victoria! Don’t push us too far! If you back us into a corner, we’ll drag you down with us! It won’t be good for anyone!” “I was wrong. I admit it. Just name your price. I’ll do anything!” I watched the progression from threats to groveling, a cold smile touching my lips. I sent a single, two-word reply. “Just wait.” Just then, an unknown number called. I swiped to answer. Marcus’s voice, rabid and unhinged, exploded from the speaker. “So you’re Victoria, huh? You think ruining my career is the end of this? I’ve got connections, you bitch! I’ll make sure you can never work in this town again!” He continued spewing a torrent of filth, polluting the air with his vulgarity. I didn’t even bother to grant him a response. I just ended the call and blocked the number. The ravings of a mad dog on its way to the slaughterhouse weren’t worth a single second of my time. But his words—“I’ve got connections”—only confirmed it. The trap I’d set was working. Marcus, you stupid dog. You’re about to lead your real master right to my door. 3 Things escalated faster than I’d anticipated, and with a decidedly dramatic flair. The next morning, I got a call from the front desk. Arthur was in the lobby of the Vanguard tower, surrounded by gift boxes of premium cigars and rare liquors, begging to see me. I flipped through the morning paper, speaking coolly into the receiver. “Tell security I’m busy. And tell him to get lost.” After being unceremoniously denied entry, Arthur seemed to have a complete breakdown. He sent me a long, encrypted message that confirmed all my suspicions. “Victoria, I’m begging you! I can’t fire Marcus. He’s my brother-in-law Derek’s man. Derek is the Executive VP, he runs the entire R&D division. Marcus is his right hand. My hands are tied!” Derek. The CEO’s brother-in-law, Lumina’s Executive VP. The real snake, hidden in the weeds, had finally shown its head. Just as I was about to deploy my team to dig into Derek’s background, a vicious, targeted smear campaign against me and Vanguard Corp erupted online. Several third-rate tech gossip sites, known for their sensationalist clickbait, suddenly published a coordinated series of articles with inflammatory headlines. Tech Giant’s ‘She-Devil’ Exec Abuses Power to Crush Supplier! The Seven-Million-Dollar Bully: How a Community College Grad’s Rejection Sparked Corporate Warfare. Annihilated by Arrogance: Is Big Capital the Final Nail in the Coffin for Small Tech? In these articles, I was painted as a petty, vindictive monster who had slept her way to the top. And Marcus, the arrogant fool, was recast as a tragic hero who stood up for his principles, only to be ruthlessly crushed by a corporate tyrant. The most malicious twist was the claim that my entire interview was a setup. They accused me of being a corporate spy sent by Vanguard to steal Lumina’s “proprietary technology.” The internet, as it does, went wild. Keyboard warriors who cared nothing for the truth, only for a chance to tear down the successful, flooded the comment sections with venom. “This Victoria chick sounds like a total psycho. Ruining a company because some HR guy told the truth?” “This is how corporate giants like Vanguard operate? Disgusting. Boycott them!” “The articles are right. She was totally a spy. What kind of exec fakes a resume to go to an interview?” Inside Lumina, the anonymous employee forums exploded. Derek seized the opportunity. In an emergency all-hands meeting, he fanned the flames, telling the tech teams that Vanguard was trying to steal their hard work before casting them aside like trash. He cleverly reframed my personal retaliation as a David-and-Goliath class struggle, positioning himself as the valiant savior protecting Lumina’s employees from the evil corporate empire. The crisis had escalated into all-out war. Just as the online furor reached its peak, my secure burner phone buzzed with a self-destructing encrypted message. It was from an unknown number. “Ms. Victoria, my name is Noah. I was the intern taking notes at your interview. Derek is in the VP’s office shredding files and deleting data from the core servers. He’s ordered IT to physically reformat the hard drives of several key computers. Something felt wrong, so I secretly copied down the asset tags and last-user logs for those machines.” Noah. I instantly pictured a young, clean-cut face with bright, clear eyes. During the interview, while everyone else was laughing and sucking up to their boss, he had been the only one whose face was a tight mask of disgust. When Marcus was verbally assaulting me, I’d caught a glimpse of Noah out of the corner of my eye. His brow was furrowed, his hands clenched into fists beneath the table. I had made a mental note then: this kid was different from the rest of the rot in that room. My fingers flew across the keypad. “Stay safe. Do not expose yourself or do anything to arouse suspicion. Send me everything you have. Try to recall any file names or timestamps you can.” “Will do. Please, find the truth.” A moment later, Noah’s data came through. I stared at the string of asset numbers. The user with the highest-level access on one of the wiped machines was listed as: Derek. I leaned back in my chair and let out a soft, cold laugh. Oh, Derek. You’re even dumber than I thought. You’re practically screaming your guilt from the rooftops. The very evidence you’re so desperately trying to destroy is the key that will lock you in a federal prison cell. He was stoking a firestorm of public outrage to create a smokescreen, all while frantically trying to cover his tracks. It was the move of a man utterly terrified of being caught. I was now certain of it. This rat was already lining up his next gig, ready to grab the cash and run. I immediately encrypted the data and forwarded it to my top cybersecurity team with orders to prepare their most advanced data recovery tools. Then I stood up and walked into Mr. Sinclair’s office. “The fish has taken the bait. It’s time to reel him in.” For the first time, a slow, cold smile spread across my face. Derek, by trying to bury the evidence, you’ve just shown me exactly where to dig. This is where the real game begins.

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My welcome home party turned into an absolute joke. After five years together, my girlfriend finally showed up, completely late, with a frat boy trailing behind her. The kid didn’t even hesitate. He looked me up and down with a smug smirk. “Man, doing a Ph.D. overseas takes forever. You’re getting pretty old, aren’t you?” He let out a dry, mocking laugh. “At your age, not being married… doesn’t your family get anxious?” Then came the venom. “Oh, wait. I forgot. Your parents are dead.” My face turned stone cold. But Nina, the woman who had always been my gentle anchor, just chuckled and ruffled the kid’s hair. She looked at me with zero remorse. “Noah is young. He doesn’t know any better. Be the mature one, Oliver. Don’t take it personally.” Later that night, near the patio fire pit, I caught Noah pinning her against the brick wall, kissing her hard. He growled against her lips, “Baby, don’t you dare walk down the aisle with him.” Nina let out a breathless moan. “I’m not marrying that cursed loser. I only want to be yours.” Eventually, I let her go. I walked away and married someone else, exactly like she wanted. I never expected her to fly across the Atlantic, stay awake for days, and drop to her knees in front of me, sobbing. “Please. Please marry me.” 1 But that came later. The nightmare started at the party. Nina had texted the group chat saying she was running behind. The guys at the bar nudged my shoulder. “Nina is probably picking up some insane welcome back gift for you, man!” I just smiled, nursing my beer, imagining exactly how I was going to pull her into my arms. Three years of a long distance relationship while I was studying in Europe had almost driven me insane with missing her. Two hours later, as the bartender was calling last orders, Nina finally strolled in. Except she wasn’t alone. She had a younger guy glued to her side. I took a step toward her, but my boots froze to the floor. The silver engagement ring that belonged to me was currently gleaming on Noah’s index finger. The guys around me went wide eyed. Ben leaned in and whispered to Nina, “Are you out of your mind? Why did you bring him?” Nina waved it off like it was nothing. “What is the big deal? Noah wanted to come, so I brought him.” She noticed my eyes locked on the ring. A flicker of panic crossed her face, but she quickly masked it with a casual shrug. “Your ring was just sitting in the drawer collecting dust. I let Noah wear it for fun. You do not mind, right, Oliver?” I stood there, paralyzed. That was the ring she used to guard with her life. If anyone even touched her jewelry box, she would throw a fit. Looking at the woman standing in front of me, I felt like I was staring at a stranger. The sweet, affectionate girl I left behind would never speak to me like this. Noah caught my gaze and threw the ring onto the floor like a piece of trash. “Sloppy seconds from an old guy. Keep it. I do not want it.” The silver band bounced against the hardwood and rolled straight into the glowing embers of the fire pit. Nina did not even glance at the flames. She immediately grabbed Noah’s hand, inspecting his fingers with frantic worry. “Are you okay? Did you hurt your hand?” My body moved on instinct. I hunched over, reaching toward the heat to save the ring. Her voice from the night I proposed echoed in my ears. Oliver, I love you. I swear I will love you until the stars burn out. Feeling the heavy stares of everyone in the room, I forced myself to stop. I pulled my hand back. I was not going to humiliate myself any further. 2 My face was completely drained of color. Ben saw my expression and shoved Noah’s shoulder. “Watch your mouth, kid. Apologize to Oliver right now.” Noah scoffed, rolling his eyes. “The guy literally got his own parents killed. I was doing him a favor. Wearing his ring is bad luck anyway.” That was a line nobody crossed. That was the deepest, most agonizing wound in my soul. I could not fathom how Nina could take my darkest trauma and serve it up as gossip to her boy toy. The anger boiled over. I clenched my fist, pulling my arm back to wipe that smug look off his face. Nina instantly threw herself in front of him, shoving her hands against my chest. “What the hell are you doing!” Almost simultaneously, the rest of the guys stepped in, acting as a human shield for Noah. “Relax, Oliver! He just has no filter. Let it go!” “Yeah, man. Noah is a good kid. He did not mean anything by it!” I froze. What a sick, twisted joke. My closest friends and the love of my life were standing in a united front with a guy I barely knew. And I was standing entirely alone. Three years. It only took three years for my entire world to get hijacked. Nina glared at me, her voice sharp and unforgiving. “Are you done throwing a tantrum? Did he say anything wrong? You are the reason your parents died! Am I lying?” She sneered. “You went off to Europe, lived the high life, and forgot everything, did you?” My breath hitched. She always knew exactly where to slide the knife. She was right. If I had not thrown a fit as a kid begging for candy from the backseat, my dad would not have turned around. He would not have taken his eyes off the road. The truck running the red light would have missed us. But the part about the high life? During my three years abroad, I drowned in fear, isolation, helplessness, and crushing poverty. There was no high life. A cold drop slid down my cheek. I realized with a numb shock that I was actually crying. Seeing the tear, Nina’s harsh expression cracked. She took a half step toward me, instinct taking over. But Noah grabbed her wrist, pulling her back. A dozen eyes stared at my pathetic breakdown. The familiar sensation of absolute helplessness washed over me. I turned and practically jogged to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face. I should have seen the signs. Over the last year, our texts had dried up. Our phone calls turned into hurried excuses. We barely exchanged three sentences a week. I could not even remember the last time we FaceTimed. After I got my breathing under control, I walked back out. That was when I found them in the shadows of the hallway. Noah had her backed against the wall, kissing her with bruised intensity. Noah pulled back just enough to speak. “Baby, don’t you dare walk down the aisle with him.” Nina let out a soft, breathy sound. “I’m not marrying that cursed loser. I only want to be yours.” 3 The party died down. People slowly filtered out. My phone buzzed in my pocket. I stared at the screen and answered on autopilot. “Oliver! Why did you fly back to the States? Are you not coming back here?” When I did not answer, the voice on the other end grew frantic. “Talk to me!” My throat felt like it was lined with glass. “I am coming back.” My girl, my crew, they all belonged to Noah now. There was nothing left for me in this city. Harper let out a massive sigh of relief on the phone before her tone shifted. “Are you crying? Where are you? I am booking a flight right now. Wait for me.” The moment I hung up, Nina’s voice sliced through the silence behind me. Her face was dark with suspicion. “Who the hell are you talking to? Is it a woman? Do I know her?” I ignored her and kept walking toward the exit. She lunged forward, grabbing my wrist with a painful grip. She was not going to let it go. I gave her a deadpan answer just to get her off my back. “A colleague from the lab. She needed the passcode for a data file.” That seemed to satisfy her. She loosened her grip and tugged me toward the parking lot. “Let’s go. My parents are waiting for us at home.” It was only then I realized Noah had slipped away unnoticed. My dad and Nina’s dad had served in the military together. They were brothers in arms. After my parents passed, Nina’s family took me in. I grew up in their house. Out of basic respect, I had to go see them. I walked up to her car and opened the passenger door. Sitting right on the seat was a custom cushion embroidered with Noah’s initials. A tacky little crown sticker was slapped on the dashboard. The neck pillow literally said Prince Noah’s Throne. He did this on purpose. He was marking his territory. I stood there for a long moment, debating if I should just sit in the back. Nina looked over at me, her tone defensive. “Don’t sit there. Noah gets super weird about people touching his stuff. Be the bigger person.” She remembered that Noah was possessive over a seat. But she completely forgot that I get violently car sick and can only ever ride in the front. I did not argue. I shut the door and pulled open the back door. The first thing I saw was a crumpled set of crimson lace lingerie kicked under the floor mat. During those two hours she was late to my party… those two hours where I sat checking the door every five minutes with a stupid, hopeful smile on my face… they were sweating all over the back seat of this car. What an absolute joke my life was. 4 When we walked through the front door, Nina’s parents practically tackled me with hugs. “You are home… look at you, finally home.” After the initial warmth and catching up, Nina’s mom grabbed my arm and pulled out a stack of elegant cardstock. “Look, Oliver. Tell me which invitation design you like. I have been obsessing over your wedding details for months!” Wedding? I immediately took a step back. “Mrs. Davis, we are not…” Nina cut me off instantly. She flopped down onto the expensive leather sofa. “Mom, you guys handle the small details. Oliver is jet lagged and exhausted.” I stared at her, baffled. She was talking like the wedding was actually happening. Then what was the plan with Noah? Her parents exchanged a knowing look and laughed. “Girls always side with their men! You used to fly out to Europe to visit Oliver all the time, but now that he is back, you two can finally be together every day!” Nina looked genuinely panicked for a split second and frantically changed the subject. Every alarm bell in my head went off. I pulled out my phone and texted Ben. Hey, can you check Nina’s social media for the last three years for me? In those three years, Nina had never visited me once. Not a single time. Ben replied instantly. Nothing out of the ordinary. Why? I did not buy it. I texted a few other guys from the crew. They all gave me the exact same story. I almost convinced myself I was paranoid. Then I remembered a burner account I made years ago to check a local restaurant’s hidden menu. I logged in and searched for Nina’s profile. An endless wall of photos loaded onto the screen. It was suffocating. Every single post was a selfie of her and Noah. They had been touring the globe. Paris, Rome, Tokyo, Bali. The room started spinning. I felt like I was going to throw up. Over the last three years, I had begged her to come see me. I scraped together pennies hoping we could meet halfway. She always said she was slammed with corporate projects. I waited three years. She had time to travel the entire world with a frat boy. But she could not spare a weekend to jump on a two hour budget flight to see me in a neighboring country. 5 When I first got my Ph.D. acceptance letter, I was going to turn it down. I had zero money. But Nina’s parents were wealthy, and they insisted I go. They liked the prestige of having a doctor in the family. They promised to send my tuition and living expenses through Nina’s bank account every semester. For the first few months, things were okay. Then the money completely stopped. Nina claimed there was a banking issue, then said her accounts were frozen, then just stopped replying. I had to take on three brutal part time jobs washing dishes, tutoring, and hauling boxes just to pay my university fees. Because I was broke, I had to rent a rotting apartment in a neighborhood crawling with junkies and gangs. My build was not exactly intimidating compared to the massive guys loitering on my corner. Every night was a survival game. I locked every deadbolt, wedged a chair under the handle, and pushed my heavy wardrobe against the front door. Even then, drunk men would pound on the thin wood, screaming threats. I used to call Nina in the middle of the night, shaking, just trying to hear a familiar voice to keep the panic attacks at bay. She would sigh into the receiver. “Babe, I am super stressed at the office. Just tough it out. The sun will be up soon.” Then she would hang up. I would sit on the edge of my mattress until dawn, gripping a kitchen knife with white knuckles, too terrified to blink. I kept scrolling through her secret profile. I found the post from that exact night. Younger guys are such babies. My silly Noah is terrified of thunderstorms. Had to cuddle him all night to get him to sleep. Underneath the photo were comments from Ben and the rest of the crew. Hey, that is our boy! Give him some extra love! Protect Noah at all costs! P.S. Make sure you hide this from Oliver. Everyone knew. Every single one of them. And they all covered for her. While I was bleeding myself dry, working until my hands cracked, trying to finish my degree early so I could marry her… she had slowly infected my entire friend group. She turned my brothers into Noah’s loyal soldiers. They boxed me out. I was the punchline to a joke I did not even know was being told. My skin was completely devoid of color. Nina’s mom noticed and assumed it was the jet lag. She told Nina to drive me to our place. I walked like a zombie following Nina into the garage. The moment I saw her car, a violent shudder ran down my spine. The image of the red lace was burned into my retinas. I gritted my teeth and violently ripped my arm out of her grip. “Back off. Do not touch me.” Nina took a deep breath, playing the patient girlfriend. “How else are you going to get home?” I did not say a word. I turned around and started walking down the driveway into the night. I walked step by dragging step. The sun vanished completely. The suburban streets went pitch black. Nina trailed slowly behind me in her car, the headlights casting a long, mocking shadow ahead of me. Years ago, she knew I hated city noise, so she insisted we buy a house deep in the suburbs. I walked for two straight hours. My dress shoes tore the skin off the back of my heels. When I finally unlocked the front door, Nina stormed in behind me, her face twisted with rage. “What the hell is your problem?” “You go overseas for a few years and come back acting like a dramatic, fragile princess!” Who made me fragile? I survived the absolute trenches for three years. I clawed my way out of the mud. I had zero right to be fragile. I ignored her shouting. I just stared at the interior of the house. My quiet study was gone. It was now an RGB lit gaming room packed with high end consoles. The bathroom vanity was cluttered with men’s cologne and skincare brands I did not use. Even the toothbrush holder had a cute little label that read Noah’s Property. This was supposed to be our sanctuary. The home we built. Now, every corner reeked of another man. I was too exhausted to fight. I walked down the hall and opened the guest room door, just wanting a bed. Sitting dead center on the mattress was Noah. He was wearing my father’s wedding suit. I stopped breathing. That suit was the only physical item I had left of my dad in this entire world. My dad used to point at that suit and tell me, When you get married, wear this. And protect your wife the way I protected your mother. That is what makes a man. Now, that sacred fabric was draped over Noah’s shoulders. He had taken scissors to the vintage lining, letting the yellowed fabric fall to the floor. The subtle embroidered details had been ripped out. My dad was heavily built. A soldier. Noah was lanky. So Noah had haphazardly pinned and stitched the fabric to make it tighter. Seeing me in the doorway, Noah gave me a sick, taunting smile and flexed his shoulders, intentionally stretching the fragile seams. A loud tearing sound echoed in the quiet room. The back seam split wide open. Outside, a massive crack of thunder rattled the windows. I flinched. The sound physically broke something inside me. I watched my dad die all over again. I lost my mind. I grabbed a heavy ceramic vase from the hallway table and hurled it at the floor, shattering it into pieces. I screamed until my vocal cords bled. “Who gave you the right to touch that!” “Take it off! Take it off right now!” Noah faked a look of absolute terror and scrambled behind Nina, though I could see the victorious smirk playing on his lips.

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Three years after breaking up with River Wright, I accidentally ran into him on a film set while working as a background extra. By then, he had already established himself as an elite, visionary director. The extras around me were whispering, gossiping about how the leading lady of this film was his girlfriend of three years, and that they were likely getting engaged soon. They looked at her with pure envy, talking about how lucky she was to lock down River, effectively securing her future as a permanent fixture in the untouchable Wright dynasty. Looking at the freezing, intimidating man surrounded by a massive entourage, I could barely recognize him as the same boy who used to squeeze into a cramped, miserable studio apartment with me to survive. While I was still lost in my memories, he suddenly stopped walking. He instructed his assistant to have the lead actress, Ashley Blair, step out because she was feeling unwell. He ordered them to use a stunt double for the upcoming water scene. Then, he casually lifted his eyes, carelessly pointing a single finger directly at me. When his gaze locked onto mine, the corner of his mouth twitched upward into a provocative smirk. He asked if I had a problem with it. 1 An icy rain had just stopped, leaving the air biting and cold. I huddled within the crowd of extras, pulling my heavy cotton coat tight around myself. My friend, Maya, leaned in, barely suppressing her excitement. “Did you see Director Wright’s face when Ashley accidentally bumped into that prop?” She was a massive fan of the River and Ashley relationship, constantly obsessing over their every interaction. I gave a weak hum of agreement. I had been on set all night, taking the freezing wind directly to the face. Right now, I was shivering violently and just wanted to crawl into bed. Another extra next to us jumped into the conversation. “Ashley is so incredibly lucky. Three years ago she was a literal nobody playing nameless extras. Now she is a massive, A-list movie star.” “Well, look at Director Wright’s family. The Wright Entertainment Empire! Making someone a star is basically a hobby for them.” “Ashley really hit the jackpot. Marrying him and having the Wright family backing her? She is set for life.” Maya argued back, “What do you mean ‘hit the jackpot’?” “When Director Wright directed his first indie film, nobody had any idea he was the Wright heir. Everyone knows he had some desperate ex-girlfriend who dumped him because she thought he was broke and wanted to climb the social ladder.” “Honestly, thank god that girl was completely blind. She practically handed him over to Ashley.” Maya nudged me, looking for backup. “Right?” I gave another slow, exhausted hum. 2 When I was dating River. I had absolutely no idea he came from insane wealth. To be fair, he never mentioned it. But honestly, nobody looking at the sweet, exhausted, endlessly patient junior camera assistant he was back then would ever connect him to the billionaire heir of the Wright Entertainment Empire. And I certainly did not dump him to climb the social ladder. Because nobody climbs the social ladder just to end up as a nameless extra on their ex-boyfriend’s set. Maya cleared her throat, about to say something else, but suddenly froze. The normally terrifying Assistant Director was walking toward the extras’ rest area, leading a tall, imposing figure. River Wright had personally come to the extras’ holding area. They had been filming for a month, and this was the very first time. The AD glanced at his phone and whispered something. River replied dismissively. “Ashley is not feeling well. Let her rest in the trailer.” “Find a double for the water sequence.” Even though I was shrinking back and keeping my head down, I felt a stare lock onto me like a physical needle. “Use her.” River’s voice was quiet, but it carried an undeniable, absolute authority. My chest tightened violently. I slowly raised my head, locking eyes with River’s freezing, pitch-black gaze. Our eyes met. The corner of his lips curled up slightly, his brow arching in a silent challenge. “What? Do you have a problem with it?” His voice felt like it had been soaked in ice water. 3 My legs felt like lead as I followed the AD. The rigging crew was already waiting by the edge of the deep water tank. I gritted my teeth, fighting back violent waves of dizziness and shivering. Maybe because I looked genuinely sick, the usually brutal AD offered a rare word of comfort. “It is just a wide shot. Do not stress.” He gave my shoulder a quick squeeze. A PA suddenly yelled his name from a distance. “Director Wright needs you.” I turned my head. Through the chaos of the scrambling crew, I immediately spotted River. He was standing behind the monitor, arms crossed, his expression impatient and harsh. Everyone hovered around him like anxious satellites, waiting for his command. I snapped back to reality as the slate clapped and the AD yelled, “Action!” The wire violently yanked me up, suspending me high in the air. Below me was the freezing, pitch-black water. Memories I had desperately tried to bury suddenly surged to the surface. Splash— The freezing water slammed into me from all sides, crushing my chest. A delayed, violent panic hit me. I instinctively began thrashing. “Cut.” The crew dragged me out of the water, dragging my freezing body onto the concrete. In the chaos, a massive shadow fell over me. I struggled to look up, only seeing the sharp, merciless line of River’s jaw. A second later, his Adam’s apple bobbed. “Absolutely pathetic.” Because I had water in my ears, his voice was muffled, but the cruelty was unmistakable. “How does someone with zero talent and zero professionalism even get hired on my set?” He checked his expensive watch, tapping the glass as he spoke to the crew. “Dry her off. We are going again.” Over the roar of the industrial space heaters, I caught fragments of the crew whispering. “It is just a wide shot. You cannot even see her face. Why are we doing another take?” “…He is in a terrible mood… Ashley scraped her knee…” I lowered my eyes. I methodically wrung the freezing water out of my hair with a towel. I kept my mind completely blank. From the second I decided to return to acting, I had mentally prepared myself to endure absolutely anything. We shot the water plunge five times. River finally gave a tight nod of approval. The crew immediately scrambled to tear down the set, prep for the next location, and move on. The entire soundstage was a chaotic blur of noise and movement. I tried to move my limbs, slowly swimming toward the edge of the tank. But no matter how hard I tried, my completely frozen body just started dragging me down into the water. Until my consciousness finally slipped into absolute darkness. 4 When I woke up, I was lying in a strange, unfamiliar bedroom. The heavy blackout curtains were drawn shut. The room was dark and suffocating. It felt like a completely isolated island. A massive wave of pure panic crashed over me. I violently threw myself out of the bed. The sudden movement ripped the IV needle out of the back of my hand. Blood immediately started pouring down my skin. When the dizziness finally passed, I grabbed my phone, which was aggressively vibrating on the nightstand. A breaking news notification immediately popped up on the lock screen. [River Wright carries Ashley Blair off set! Actress posts a sweet photo confirming their happiness!] My hand shook. The screen automatically unlocked to a social media app. Half an hour ago, Ashley had posted two photos. One was a steaming bowl of ginger soup. The other was a dark, blurry shot of the water tank. The caption read: [The hardest scene is finally here! It is freezing outside, remember to drink your ginger soup. Feeling so warm and happy inside.] The comment section was split into a massive war. One side was aggressively defending the “carry,” claiming Ashley fainted from exhaustion and River rushed her to the medic. Another side was viciously attacking the production team and her manager, demanding to know why an A-list actress was forced to shoot a freezing water sequence for hours until she collapsed. Scattered in between were obsessive fans screaming about how perfect River and Ashley were together. Soon, the hashtag #AshleyBlairProfessionalism hit the number one trending spot. I glanced at it for a few seconds and closed the app. My head was still throbbing violently. It felt so heavy I thought if I tilted my neck, it would snap right off. As I slipped my shoes on, my brain finally processed something. I was wearing thick, dry, completely different clothes. Just as I started looking around for my soaked costume, the bedroom door opened. River walked in, holding a steaming bowl of ginger soup. “Looks like you are fine.” He casually set the bowl on the nightstand, staring at me with a dark, calculating intensity. The dim light cast heavy shadows across his face, hiding his expression. After a long pause, a mocking smirk curled his lips. “Lily Evans, look how pathetic you have become.” I let out a short, dry laugh. My throat felt like it was lined with broken glass, but I managed to speak. “Isn’t this entirely your fault?” 5 River’s face darkened instantly. I scanned the room again. Still no sign of my costume. Whatever. I didn’t care. It was just a shame about the money. The production company charged a two-hundred-dollar penalty for lost wardrobe. I tried to walk past River to leave. But he moved faster, suddenly closing the distance. With almost zero effort, he shoved my exhausted, weak body back down onto the bed, pinning me there. River grabbed my wrist with one hand, his eyes dropping to the bleeding puncture wound from the IV. The corner of his mouth twitched. His other hand grabbed my jaw, forcing me to look at him. “Still the exact same. Totally unreasonable.” His tone was intimate, almost teasing, with a faint smile playing on his lips. But his dark eyes were completely dead. There was absolutely zero warmth. I twisted my head violently, trying to escape his grip and the hot, suffocating breath hitting my face. River let me struggle, his grip like iron. “Three years ago, you vanished without a single word.” “When you did that, did you ever imagine this is how you would end up?” His thumb slowly traced the line of my brow. “Three years ago… did you act like this in his bed too?” A massive, overwhelming wave of pure humiliation crushed my chest. I didn’t even have time to feel angry. The blood pounded violently in my temples. My teeth started chattering uncontrollably, my entire body violently shaking. A flash of genuine regret crossed River’s eyes. “Sorry. I didn’t…” I snapped my head to the side, sinking my teeth violently into the hand pinning my face down. My mind went completely blank. I just bit down harder. And harder. The heavy, metallic taste of blood instantly flooded my mouth. River gritted his teeth, finally letting out a sharp hiss of pain. His face twisted as he struggled to maintain control. Right at that exact second, there was a soft knock on the door. “River? Are you in there?” Ashley’s voice was hesitant and probing. 6 I ran out of the hotel. Standing under a pitch-black, suffocating sky, I felt completely lost. Someone gently tugged on my sleeve. It was a group of extremely young, panicked-looking girls. The girl leading them looked at me nervously. “Miss, are you crew for The Emerald Cage?” She pointed at the production logo printed on my jacket, her voice frantic. “Do you know how Ashley is doing? Is she okay?” They told me they were Ashley’s super-fans. When they saw the news that she fainted, they panicked, paid off a scalper, and snuck onto the lot. Their faces were pale with genuine fear and concern for their idol. “She is fine,” I rasped, my throat burning. “You guys need to go home. This area is restricted, and it is not safe for you to be out here in the dark.” As they turned to leave, one girl who had been standing quietly in the back hesitated, her voice trembling. “Lily Evans? Is that you?” When she saw me freeze, her face lit up. “It is you!” “I used to watch your shows and movies! I loved your acting so much!” “When you quit the industry, there was absolutely no news about you. I was so worried about you.” “Are you ever going to come back to acting?” I never imagined that, in this miserable, humiliating moment, I would hear someone say they loved me and loved my work. The sheer shock of it hit me like a physical blow. My nose burned. My throat completely locked up. I could only manage a single, heavy nod. “I will.” The girl stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me in a tight, gentle hug. “I never believed a single word of those tabloid rumors,” she whispered in my ear. “Keep fighting!” She gave me a bright smile and ran off to catch up with her friends. I watched her until she disappeared into the dark. Only then did I look down. My tears hit the concrete, shattering into tiny, dark flowers. Three years ago, the tabloids exploded with a story that “manipulative D-list actress Lily Evans” slept with a billionaire heir to secure a role. The photos they leaked showed me practically unconscious, hanging off a man as we stumbled into a hotel room, and later leaving with my clothes completely disheveled. The entire internet ripped me apart, using the most vile, toxic language imaginable to destroy me. Even just ten minutes ago. The man who used to love me used the exact same rumors to degrade me. But this stranger? She looked me in the eye and said she believed me. 7 The production provided a cheap, rundown dorm for the background extras. When I walked in, Maya was just climbing down from her top bunk. “You are finally back.” She aggressively ushered me to sit down, grabbing pillows for my back and pouring me a glass of hot water. “Even if River is obsessed with protecting Ashley, what he did today was completely psychotic.” Her eyebrows were twisted in a tight, angry knot. “You were the one who went into the freezing water. You were the one who passed out. But the second Ashley posts a picture, the entire internet is praising her dedication!” She cursed a few more times, then suddenly shot me a very strange, calculating look. “By the way… the AD told me to tell you that Director Wright was extremely impressed by your raw talent today. He said you have great instincts, and he is writing a specific speaking role just for you.” I gave a weak, exhausted nod. My head was pounding so hard it felt like a construction crew was operating inside my skull. I dry-swallowed two painkillers and collapsed onto the thin mattress. Just as I was slipping into unconsciousness, my phone vibrated. It was a text from my mom. [Transferred some money to your account. Please don’t starve yourself.] Her profile picture was a screenshot of a character I played years ago. A photo of twenty-two-year-old Lily Evans. Arrogant, confident, and utterly fearless. The words on the screen blurred into a watery mess. Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes, tangling into my hair, making my scalp itch. It felt just like the day before I left home to return to the city. Resting my head on her lap, she gently stroked my hair, her voice thick with helpless love. “I don’t care about anything else. I am just terrified you are going to get hurt. I am terrified you are going to be miserable.” “But I know you. Once you make a choice, you will smash your head against a brick wall before you ever turn back. You will walk this path no matter what.” “Whenever you get too tired, just come home. Do not torture yourself for nothing.” I didn’t reply. I honestly didn’t know what to say. As I closed the chat app, a tiny red dot suddenly appeared on my contacts tab. Under the [New Friends] requests, there was a blank profile with the username “M.” I locked my phone screen. Rolling over, I sank back into the dark.

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