Category: English

It is a well-known fact among the Manhattan elite that the Upper East Side princess, Sloane Sterling, loves nothing more than to be absolutely unique. Her biggest taboo is anyone sharing even the slightest resemblance to her. Because a bystander carelessly mentioned, “Hey, that waitress’s eyes look a lot like yours,” Sloane ordered her bodyguards to gouge out the waitress’s eyes and push her off a yacht, drowning her alive. And just like that, I lost the only family I had in this world. Later, I became Sloane Sterling’s body double. I wore the replica face she hated most—the face that looked exactly like hers. And I took everything from her. 1 Along with my mother’s corpse came a hush-money check for $500,000. I didn’t even blink as I signed the non-disclosure and settlement agreements. After officiating her funeral, I didn’t waste a second before going on a spending spree. I got extreme plastic surgery. I bought designer clothes. I even enrolled in elite etiquette and arts classes. The neighbors in our run-down apartment building whispered: “Poor Mary. She worked her fingers to the bone raising her daughter, and she raised a cold-blooded sociopath.” I let them talk. I didn’t care. As time passed, my mother’s death faded into background noise. The whispers turned into praise: “Chloe is getting more gorgeous by the day.” “Which clinic did she go to? The surgeon is a genius.” I just smiled and said nothing. This face was molded perfectly to replicate Manhattan’s reigning It-Girl, Sloane Sterling. How could it not be beautiful? 2 A top-tier socialite like Sloane could trend on X just by sneezing. Her toxic, on-and-off romance with Wall Street billionaire heir Carter Harrington was the country’s favorite post-dinner gossip. They were childhood sweethearts. Everyone called them a match made in heaven. But the billionaire heir was a playboy. Scandals surrounded him constantly, causing them to break up and get back together on an endless loop. The most recent drama happened when Carter set his sights on a C-list actress. The actress even got pregnant with his child. Paparazzi photos showed them holding hands, looking deeply in love. But not long after, news broke that the actress had “accidentally” fallen from a penthouse balcony. She died on impact. Two lives, gone. Her death didn’t cause much of a ripple, though. Because the top trending topics that day were: [The Princess Runs Away] [Carter & Sloane Fight Again!] [Place your bets: How long until they make up?] No one cared about the dead actress. Fans were far more focused on the fact that Carter and Sloane had a massive fight. This time, Sloane posted a dramatic story on Instagram. She claimed she was moving to Europe to “find herself” and wouldn’t be returning to the States anytime soon. Some netizens questioned it: “Doesn’t Sloane have modeling contracts lined up? Can she really just ditch them?” Her obsessive fans immediately attacked the critics: “Sorry you’re broke! When you have that much money, you can do whatever you want.” “Other influencers are controlled by capital, but our Queen Sloane is the capital.” “She’s more famous than you’ll ever be. Cry about it.” … Not long after Sloane left for Paris, the internet noticed something. There was a new girl by Carter Harrington’s side. And this girl had a face that looked 80% identical to Sloane Sterling’s. This time, the internet was strangely calm: “Oh, look. Clone #18 has arrived.” Every time Carter and Sloane broke up, a new woman would appear by his side shortly after. And every single one of them shared a resemblance to Sloane. The gossip blogs affectionately called these girls “The Clones.” They even gave them serial numbers. To the public, these stand-ins were ultimate proof of Carter’s undying love for Sloane. After all… He loved the clones because they looked like her. But she was the original. “Carter is so extra (facepalm)…” “He’s too proud to chase her to Paris, so he pulls this stunt every time.” “But you gotta admit, Clone #18 looks EXACTLY like Sloane. Where does he even find them?” Of course I looked like her. I clung to Carter’s arm, leaning against his chest like a fragile little bird. I had suffered immensely for this face. My mother’s eyes were naturally similar to Sloane’s. But I didn’t just want the eyes. I matched her jawline. I went through agonizing micro-adjustments for my nose and lips. To ensure Carter’s background checks wouldn’t reveal I intentionally altered my face to approach him, I didn’t dare go to legitimate hospitals. I went to underground, black-market clinics. Risking severe infections, disfigurement, or dying on the operating table, I spent three years and triple the money to carve this face out, millimeter by millimeter. It was my entry ticket into his world. How could I not look like her? 3 I quickly got my own dedicated subreddit. [r/HasClone18BeenFiredYet] Of course, this wasn’t an exclusive honor. My 17 predecessors all had their own threads, created by bored Carter-Sloane shippers. Carter was a man who got bored easily. The longest a clone had ever lasted was 25 days. The shortest was a mere three days. So, the fans checked the subreddit daily. They kept a log of the new stand-in, placing bets on how long I would last by Carter’s side. Most bet I wouldn’t make it past a month. A few outliers had higher hopes: “Maybe this one will break the one-month curse? She seriously looks exactly like our Queen.” Even so, the absolute maximum prediction was three months. No one expected me to be a survivor. One of me was better than all seventeen combined. One month passed; I was still there. Three months passed; still there. Six months; still there. Ten months passed… Carter Harrington announced our engagement. The internet exploded. 4 Sloane Sterling booked an overnight first-class flight and flew straight back to New York. The night before she landed. Carter held me in his arms, his fingers lazily tracing the contours of my face. “You know what to say and what not to say tomorrow, right?” I nodded obediently, cheerfully said, “I know!”, and thoughtfully began picking out the suit he would wear to meet Sloane the next day. When news of our engagement broke, 99% of the internet cursed my name. A tiny fraction guessed the truth: this was just Carter’s ultimate tactic to provoke Sloane. Unfortunately for the haters, that tiny fraction was right. Sloane hadn’t returned to the States in nearly a year. The billionaire heir lost his patience and orchestrated this entire spectacle. And from the very beginning, I played along perfectly. After all, there was a reason I lasted by Carter’s side this long. Besides the face, it was my absolute, unwavering submission. I mean absolute submission. The kind with zero trace of self-respect. Carter liked competitive gaming. I spent hours practicing games I had never heard of, just so I could be his perfect duo partner every night. Carter liked fresh walnuts. I cracked them by hand for him until my fingernails chipped and my fingertips bled. Carter was a borderline alcoholic. To help him break the habit, I matched him drink for drink. My body, which had never touched alcohol before, was forced to down two bottles of neat bourbon. I ended up in the ER with a bleeding ulcer, nearly dying. After that, Carter rarely touched liquor. He even quit smoking. His frat-boy friends’ attitudes toward me completely shifted. At first, they just saw me as Carter’s disposable toy. They would tease me and use me for their amusement. But gradually, they couldn’t stand it anymore. “Carter, man, Chloe is a really good girl. Stop messing with her head.” Faced with their advice, Carter just pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “Keep out of my business.” One of the rich playboys joked: “Hey Carter, whenever you get bored of her, let me know. I wouldn’t mind taking her off your hands.” He reached out and sleazily grabbed my waist. Carter’s face went dark. He smashed a beer bottle over the guy’s head. Then, he pinned down the hand that had touched me and stomped on it until the bones cracked. You see, after all this time, I actually held some weight in Carter’s heart. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have dared to play a cheesy rom-com on the living room TV in front of him— A show where the male lead fakes an engagement with the side-chick to make the female lead jealous. The female lead crashes the wedding, they confess their love, clear the misunderstanding, and she puts on the dress meant for her. Happily ever after. The billionaire heir was a fast learner. He copied the script flawlessly. Now, the male lead and the side-chick were in position. We were just waiting for the female lead to fly home. The show was about to begin. 5 Sloane returned, and the elite circle threw her a lavish welcome-home party at a VIP club. In the private booth… I sat on Carter’s lap, caged in his arms. He knew I hated places like this. He knew I despised PDA. He knew that ever since my stomach ulcer, I couldn’t touch a single drop of alcohol. Yet, he forced a full glass of red wine into my hands, demanding I feed it to him mouth-to-mouth in front of everyone. All because sitting directly across from us was Sloane Sterling. I lowered my eyes and did as I was told. Before our lips could even touch, a sharp pain erupted at the back of my head. Sloane grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanked me off Carter, and shoved me hard onto the floor. The wine glass shattered. Shards of glass pierced my palms. Blood and red wine bloomed together across my white dress. Carter didn’t even glance at me. Instead, the corners of his lips curled up. He looked lazily at Sloane. “Can I help you, Miss Sterling? I’m kissing my fiancé. I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” His tone was dripping with sarcastic provocation. Sloane’s eyes instantly went red. “Fine, Carter. You win. I admit I can’t let you go. Are you happy now?” Carter’s smile deepened. Before he could speak, Sloane continued: “I know you’re doing this just to trigger me. But you know I hate nothing more than being compared to others. Why would you use this filthy, low-class trash to provoke me? A stand-in? She’s not even worthy of shining my shoes!” With that, she burst into tears and ran out of the club. The guys around us laughed. “Carter, you played too hard. The car flipped.” “Better go chase your girl back, man.” Carter clicked his tongue in annoyance, but he still stood up and chased after Sloane. The whole room erupted into roaring laughter, like they had just watched a spectacular comedy. Everyone knew Carter was just using me. No one doubted his love for Sloane. And absolutely no one believed he was actually going to marry me. From start to finish, I was nothing but a clown. A disposable prop. Amidst the laughter, I slowly stood up. My face was perfectly calm as I addressed the room: “Excuse me. I’ll be taking my leave.” The laughter died down a bit. They seemed to just remember I was still in the room. I didn’t bother looking at their reactions. I turned and left without looking back. 6 Leaving the club, I went straight to a cheap, run-down motel. I stayed there for three days. For three days, I mostly just slept. I ordered takeout when I woke up. It was incredibly relaxing. On the third day, Carter finally found me. He looked terrible. His hair was a mess, his eyes were bloodshot, and he had a heavy shadow of stubble. He was still wearing the same suit from the club. I appropriately showed a look of shock, then seamlessly transitioned into my usual, gentle smile. “What brings you here? How are things with Miss Sterling? Did you guys talk it out?” Carter ignored all my questions. He stared at me intensely, his eyes like a starving wolf about to devour its prey. “Why didn’t you come home for three days?” His voice was hoarse, laced with a dangerous edge. I took a step back, furrowing my brows slightly. “Miss Sterling is back. It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to stay at the penthouse anymore.” Carter froze, his irritation spiking. “What the fuck does that mean?” I continued, polite and obedient: “Don’t worry, I won’t cling to you. I’ll go pack up my things from the villa in a few days. I’ll make sure it’s completely spotless so Miss Sterling doesn’t have to look at anything that upsets her.” Carter stared at me, looking absolutely in disbelief. “Chloe. Are you saying you want to break up with me?” Faced with his question, I frowned deeply and spoke slowly: “Miss Sterling is back. Shouldn’t we break up?” “Don’t even think about it!” Carter snapped. He stepped forward instinctively, his hand clamping down on my wrist like a vice. His grip was so brutal I thought my bones would shatter. I gasped in pain. Carter didn’t loosen his grip at all. Instead, he yanked me violently into his chest. He looked down at me, his eyes burning red: “I didn’t say we’re breaking up. Who gave you the right to make that decision?” Even a clay doll has a breaking point. Push a rabbit too far, and it bites. My eyes filled with tears. I looked up at him: “You two are getting back together! Why should I stay? To be the mistress in your relationship? Carter, I haven’t degraded myself to that level yet.” Carter paused. Clearly, he had never considered what to do with me once Sloane returned. But his inherent arrogance quickly provided an answer. “So what if you’re the mistress? Do you think I can’t afford to keep you? Just stay by my side and be good. I won’t treat you badly.” SLAP— I backhanded him across the face with everything I had. Tears spilled down my cheeks as I looked at him in total disbelief. “Carter, you bastard! Is that all I am to you? Some cheap whore?” I stared at him stubbornly. “Do you think I’ll die if I leave you? Do you think I have no dignity, no feelings?! What gives you the right to humiliate me like this? Let me tell you something. Everything I did for you, I did because I fell in love with you. Because you were in my heart! I did it all willingly. Not because I’m some pathetic lapdog with no boundaries. You rejected me a thousand times, and I still had the courage to walk toward you. But since you’ve found your true love, my pride won’t let me take another step forward. Carter, we shouldn’t see each other anymore. For you, for me, and for Miss Sterling, it’s…” Before I could finish, his massive frame pressed me against the wall. His face was terrifyingly dark. Ignoring my struggles, he pulled off his silk tie and ruthlessly bound my wrists together. “Chloe—” It was a term of endearment, but his voice was absolute zero. “I’ve spoiled you too much. I let you get so bold you think you can defy me. It looks like I need to teach you a lesson.” … 7 I was placed under house arrest. Carter watched me like a hawk, barely leaving my side. For an entire month, he treated me with a tenderness he had never shown before. Limitless haute couture and luxury goods flowed into the penthouse like water. Mansions and sports cars were transferred into my name without him batting an eye. He dropped his arrogant billionaire persona and started coddling me, caring for my every need. “Chloe, think about it. If you leave me, could you ever live a life this good?” … He didn’t suddenly learn to respect me. He just wanted to use a gilded cage to trap me, hoping I’d willingly become his nameless, hidden canary. I looked at him coldly, refusing to yield an inch. “Is this fun for you, Carter? Planning a wedding with Sloane on one side, and refusing to let me go on the other?” That’s right. Carter and Sloane were officially getting married. The internet shippers were throwing digital parades. As for me, the “ex-fiancé,” I was naturally cyberbullied into oblivion. “Carter, let me go. I—mmph!” He had clearly decided to marry Sloane. But every time I mentioned leaving, Carter would violently rip off his gentle facade and expose his brutal nature. He would ruthlessly bite my lips, not caring if they bled, just to swallow all the words I was trying to say. “Chloe, do not test my patience.” His eyes were ice cold. I met him with stubborn silence. But inside, I was laughing. I laughed because Carter couldn’t understand me, and he couldn’t understand himself. He hadn’t even realized it. These past few weeks, he had spent vastly more time with me than he had with Sloane. He even used “work” as an excuse to skip the most important event: wedding dress shopping with her. In reality, on the day he told Sloane he was busy, my period had “coincidentally” arrived early. Carter stayed with me all day. He bought me painkillers, brewed me ginger tea, and used his large, warm hands to soothe my cramps. It wasn’t until he finally coaxed me to sleep that he found the time to call Sloane. When he said the words “I’m busy” over the phone, I let out a soft, sleepy whimper beside him. I know Sloane heard it. With her ego, how could she possibly sit still? If before, she only hated my face because it mocked hers, in that moment, she must have realized I was completely different from all the “Clones” before me. This was the very first time Carter Harrington lied and brushed her off for another woman. And he did it on the day she was trying on her wedding dress. I knew she was feeling an unprecedented level of panic. And she absolutely wouldn’t take it lying down.

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Roman Sterling was the undisputed king of New York’s elite social circle. Drinking, women, street racing, and bar fights—he was a master of them all. But after we started dating, he gave it all up. He treated me like I was his entire world. What he didn’t know was that I had already seen his texts: “I’m honestly bored to death with her. I’ve been looking at the same face for seven years; it’s beyond stale.” “The one I really want right now is you, my little songbird.” 01 The sun was scorching as we pulled up to the luxury bridal boutique. Roman took the umbrella from the chauffeur and held it over me himself. He was a Sterling. In his world, people existed only to serve him. But with me, he was the one doing the serving. In the beginning, his friends thought I was just a new flavor he was trying out. But as seven years passed, his devotion only grew more meticulous, leaving his inner circle in a state of perpetual shock. The boutique assistant greeted us with a voice full of envy. “Mr. Sterling, you and Ms. Thorne are truly goals.” Hearing this, Roman looked at me and flashed a boyish, seeking-praise smile. My heart felt like it was being pricked by a needle. I ignored his gaze and walked straight to the dressing room. Roman had pre-ordered fifteen of the latest couture gowns, each one hand-picked by him based on my specific tastes. As I went through the fitting, he leaned against the doorframe, his eyes so focused it felt like I was the only person in existence. One dress after another. I was losing my patience by the end, but he remained rapt, even offering the designer specific notes for alterations. He wouldn’t settle for anything less than perfection. The assistants gathered around me, whispering in hushed, envious tones: “Ms. Thorne, usually when guys come in for fittings, they’re on their phones by the third dress. I’ve never seen a man stay this focused from start to finish.” “You’re so lucky. He clearly adores you.” Adores me? I turned to look at Roman. When our eyes met, his expression melted into a soft, tender smile. It was a look of pure, watery devotion. He was a completely different person from the cold, ruthless “Prince of Wall Street” portrayed in the media. This was his “special treatment” for me. But if he really loved me, why was he keeping another woman in a secluded villa in the Hamptons? He called her his “little songbird.” What a cozy, intimate little nickname. 02 The fact that Roman Sterling was head-over-heels for me was common knowledge in Manhattan. Before us, he was the city’s most notorious playboy—clubs, scotch, models, and brawls were his oxygen. But the moment we got serious, he quit it all. Simply because I once said I “hated the smell of booze,” he stopped going to clubs and became a teetotaler, even at high-stakes business galas. He asked for my opinion before every social gathering and treated other women like they were a contagious disease. He was terrified of making me unhappy. Once, at a charity gala, a socialite made a snide remark about my background. Roman didn’t say a word; he simply had her and her entire family blacklisted from the city’s social register. I never saw her again. To prove his commitment, he went to his father and agreed to give up his reckless lifestyle to study the family business. He took over Sterling Global, something he had always sworn he would never do. For me, he made it look easy. That was when everyone finally realized—Roman wasn’t playing. It was me or nobody. It wasn’t surprising that his friends were confused. He was the heir to a multi-billion dollar empire, and I was just a rising news anchor. In terms of status, we were worlds apart. I used to fear his parents’ reaction, but when I first met his mother, she was surprisingly gracious. “Roman told me he’s settled on you. He said if he can’t have you, he doesn’t want anyone. He practically threatened me not to make things hard for you, or he’d never come home again.” “Clara, honey, I should thank you. Without you, I don’t know how long it would have taken for him to grow up.” I was shy and deeply moved. Moved by everything Roman had done for me. That night, he held me close and kissed my forehead, his voice deep and honeyed: “Clara, I love you.” I held him tight, believing I had finally captured a beam of permanent light in my life. But seven years later, this man who claimed to love me was talking to another woman. His tone was dripping with contempt. “Seven years. I’m exhausted. It’s reached the point where I’m just sick of looking at her.” “If my mother didn’t love her so much, I would have dumped her a year ago. But she’s so obsessed with me; she’d probably go insane if I broke it off. Hahaha.” “The one I really want right now is you, my little songbird.” Every word was a blade. And every blade drew blood. 03 By the time the dresses were finalized, the city lights were flickering on. Roman drove me home. He brewed me a cup of herbal tea to settle my stomach, his voice sounding a bit distant in the quiet living room: “Clara, I have an emergency board meeting to deal with. I’ll probably be back late. Don’t wait up for me.” I gently caught his sleeve. “Can’t you stay? Just this once?” He froze. I noticed him tapping his left hand—a nervous habit he had when he was calculating a lie. But finally, he shook his head and said softly, “This meeting is crucial. I have to go.” I stared at him for a long time, searching for even a flicker of guilt. There was nothing. “Baby, I’ll come straight back to you the second I’m done, okay?” He pulled me into a hug, whispering sweet promises. I masked the bitterness in my eyes and let a silent tear fall. “Okay. Go ahead.” He spent a long time soothing me. Before he left, he tried to kiss my cheek, but I turned away. He assumed I was just being pouty and gave a doting, indulgent chuckle. Then he turned and walked out without a hint of hesitation. I watched him go. A few minutes later, I grabbed my keys and followed him. The destination was a luxury villa on the outskirts of the city. I hid around the corner and watched as he punched in the entry code. A woman flew into his arms. She was dressed in a provocative black lace “bunny-maid” outfit, her voice purring with artificial sweetness. “Master, you’re finally here.” Roman’s eyes were dark with hunger. He leaned down and kissed her deeply before lifting her up and carrying her into the house. I stood outside that villa for a long time. Until my blood felt as cold as the night air. 04 In reality, I wasn’t surprised by Roman’s plans tonight. Their chat history went back three years. It started with: “Mr. Sterling, thank you for the ride home. I guess I can check ‘riding in a CEO’s passenger seat’ off my bucket list now.” “No problem.” And it ended yesterday: “My little bird, I’m taking her to pick out wedding dresses tomorrow. I’ll come to you at night. Wear the outfit you bought for me.” “Understood, Master~” Attached was a photo of the woman on her knees in that lace outfit. I had only been holding onto a final, pathetic shred of hope. I thought that if I begged him to stay, he might choose me. But he didn’t. He didn’t even feel a second of remorse. 05 By the time Roman returned home, I was sitting on the sofa in the dark. I wasn’t waiting for him. I just felt so suffocated that I couldn’t sleep. He entered the house quietly, trying not to wake me. But when he turned the corner, he saw me staring at him, unblinking. He was startled. Seeing my haggard face and the dark circles under my eyes, he looked devastated. “Clara? Why are you still up? I told you not to wait for me.” He took my hands and found my fingers were ice-cold. His voice took on a sharp edge of protective anger: “Clara, why don’t you listen? Your hands are freezing, and the AC is up too high. Are you trying to get sick?” It was rare for him to snap at me. And even then, it was out of concern for my health. In that moment, a wave of nausea rose in my chest. I couldn’t get it out, and I couldn’t swallow it down. Especially the scent of her perfume clinging to his coat—a cloying, cheap floral scent that wouldn’t dissipate. It felt like a hammer was smashing against my heart. Over and over. Until everything was a bloody, mangled mess. I realized I didn’t want to play pretend anymore. I was the victim. I was the one betrayed. Why was I the one enduring the silence? I looked up at him, cutting off his lecture. “Roman, I saw them.” “The texts between you and her.” 06 I hadn’t intentionally snooped through his phone that day. We had been together for seven years. I believed he loved me, and I gave him my trust. But that night, I woke up suddenly for no reason. Roman was dead to the world after pulling overtime, and I saw his phone light up on the nightstand. I was worried it was a work emergency, so I checked it. The first thing I saw was: “Daddy, were you satisfied with last night’s service?” Followed by several explicit photos. My hand shook so hard I nearly dropped the phone. My brain went white. My first instinct was denial. I couldn’t believe Roman would do this. But my fingers kept scrolling through the logs. Page after page. Month after month. They talked so frequently that it took me over an hour to reach the beginning. It started three years ago. “Mr. Sterling, thank you for the ride. I finally know what it feels like to be the CEO’s favorite.” “Also, thank you for having dinner at my place.” The timestamp was March 25th, 9:10 PM. I remembered that day. It was my birthday. Roman had been three hours late. I had waited for him at home with a cold dinner. He had told me it was a crisis at the office and apologized profusely. Of course, I didn’t blame him. I even comforted him and told him to rest. Now I knew. He was driving a female employee home and staying for dinner. That was the “crisis.” The atmosphere must have been wonderful. Wonderful enough to make him forget I was waiting for him. Wonderful enough to make him abandon every promise he ever made to me. 07 Since that day, Seraphina had been promoted to his personal assistant. Even though they spent every day together, the texting never stopped. It evolved from professional questions to life trivialities, and finally to a full-blown affair. Roman would drop her off before picking me up from work. He solved her problems at the office and fired the male supervisor who gave her a hard time. Whenever he bought a gift for me, he bought an identical one for her. When Seraphina complained about the commute, Roman bought her a condo right next to the office. She was so “grateful” she offered him “thanks.” That was the first time they slept together. “Daddy, I’m waiting for you.” “On my way.” The location was a hotel just a few blocks from our penthouse. What was I doing at that moment? I remembered. I was packing Roman’s suitcase. He told me he had to fly to London for a week. When he didn’t come home that evening, I called him. He told me he’d be home soon. His voice was slightly out of breath. He was probably in bed with her right then. And I had no clue. I was such a fool. Fool enough to notice nothing. Fool enough to keep believing in him. That night, I don’t know how long I sat there. I read those logs over and over. Finally, I replied to Seraphina’s message with three words: “I was satisfied.” Then I deleted the message. I pretended nothing had happened. But I knew Seraphina saw it. And she knew it was me. That’s why she started texting me their meeting times anonymously. And I went. I saw with my own eyes how this man, who constantly whispered “I love you,” looked when he was desperate to get his hands on another woman. 08 The dim light of the living room cast long shadows across Roman’s face. He looked genuinely confused. “Clara? What texts?” I repeated them for him, my voice flat and clinical: “Seven years. I’m bored to death.” “The one I want is you.” “She’d probably go insane if I left.” With every word, the color drained from his face. By the end, he was gripping my wrist so hard he was shaking. He begged me: “Clara, stop. Please, stop.” I looked down at him, my tears finally breaking free. “Roman, when you were with her, did you think about me even once?” “If you were really tired of me, you could have just said so. Did you think I would beg you to stay?” “Seven years. We were about to get married. How could you do this to me? How could you lie to me for three years?” My questions, my sobbing, my heartbreak—none of it could match the agony in my soul. It felt like my heart was being roasted over an open flame. Half charred, half raw. It hurt. It hurt so much I could barely breathe. 09 In truth, I hadn’t cried when I first saw the logs. Or the photos. Or even when I saw them together. I couldn’t cry then. I didn’t know what I was crying for. But now, seeing Roman act like he still cared… I knew him. His concern for me was real. And that was what made it so disgusting. My sobs echoed through the quiet penthouse. Over and over. Roman panicked and pulled me into a fierce embrace, his voice cracking: “Clara, I’m sorry. I was possessed. I swear I only love you. She was just a distraction, a mistake. Please, I’ll make it right—” In the past, whenever he messed up, he’d put on this pitiful act, and I would always cave. But not this time. I pushed him away, slowly and firmly. “Roman, it’s over.” His eyes went red instantly. He looked like he was about to collapse. “Clara, I don’t accept that—” “Don’t touch me. You’re filthy.” That one word made Roman turn as white as a sheet. He instinctively pulled his hands back. I looked at him for a long time, then gave a cold, hollow smile. “Give this back to your little songbird.” “I don’t want it anymore.” I slid the 5-carat engagement ring off my finger and dropped it into his palm. My fingertips were like ice. He instinctively tried to close his hand, but he was too slow. I stood up, walked into the bedroom, grabbed the suitcase I had packed days ago, and walked toward the door without looking back. I heard his frantic footsteps behind me, but he stopped six inches away. His voice was a broken rasp. “Clara, can’t you forgive me just this once?” I paused. But I didn’t turn around. “Goodbye, Roman.” 10 After leaving, I moved into my own apartment. My father passed away in an accident when I was young. My mother remarried when I was ten and had my half-sister, who is now seventeen. The apartment I moved into was an inheritance from my father that my mother transferred to me when I turned eighteen. She loves me, of course, but she loves my little sister more. That’s just how it is. I understand it. I’ve always made it a point not to disturb her new life. Our relationship could be described in four words: Civil, but distant. Breaking up with Roman and canceling a high-society wedding was a major event. I made an appointment with her and went over to tell her a few days later. On my way out, I accidentally bumped into a shelf and broke a ceramic figurine. I took one look at the shattered pieces and closed the door. I told her exactly why we broke up. I didn’t hide a thing. She was silent for a long time before she spoke: “Clara, you spent seven years with him. You turned him from a bratty playboy into the CEO he is today. Are you really just going to hand all that over to another woman? Does that feel right to you?” I was stunned. She continued, “You have leverage now. He’ll never dare to cheat again. And Roman hasn’t announced the breakup yet, which means he still wants you. That other girl is just a toy.” “Everything is still salvageable as long as the news doesn’t get out.” She was analyzing the situation with the cold precision of a computer. But she didn’t sound like a mother. I looked at her and suddenly asked, “Mom, if my sister’s boyfriend cheated on her, would you tell her the same thing? Would you tell her to swallow the betrayal for the sake of ‘leverage’?” “Of course not—” She stopped abruptly, a flash of embarrassment crossing her face. “Clara, that’s not what I meant—” I knew. I knew she wasn’t trying to hurt me. She just… didn’t love me enough to be angry for me. Because she didn’t care as much, she could be “rational.” If it were my sister, she would have been screaming for blood. I should have known this by now. But it still stung. I gave a faint smile. “I get it, Mom.” Before I left, she looked at my haggard face, and a flicker of genuine pity appeared in her eyes: “Clara, you need to take care of yourself.” I hadn’t even responded when a girl’s voice called out from the other room: “Mom! I’m hungry!” My mother’s face lit up instantly. She closed the door and headed back inside. “Coming, princess! Dinner’s already on the table—” Her voice was pure sugar. She didn’t look at me again. I blinked my dry eyes and walked away. 11 When I got home, the ceramic figurine was still lying on the floor. Shattered. I picked up a piece. On the bottom, there was an inscription: “Roman loves Clara. Forever.” It was a gift from our first date. It was Father’s Day, and Roman had crowded into a “paint-your-own-pottery” shop with a bunch of kids. He looked ridiculous and adorable. Someone had even recognized him and posted a video online. At the time, his reputation was trash. He changed girlfriends as often as he changed shirts. I was immediately labeled “The Sterling Heir’s Newest Toy.” I didn’t care about the labels. But he did. He immediately contacted the media to have the video removed and created his first public social media account to announce our relationship: “Clara is the boss. I’m her toy.” The internet went wild. I went to him and told him he didn’t need to demean himself for me, that I didn’t care about the gossip. “Clara, this is about respect.” “I don’t even let myself hurt you; why would I let anyone else? I want you to stand in front of the cameras with your head held high. I won’t let anyone stain your reputation.” I still remember his expression then. Focused. Sincere. Devoted. Even though everything was a mess now, I couldn’t deny that in that moment, he really did love me.

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For a top-secret government research project, I spent 5 years stationed in a remote desert facility. Everyone thought I was dead. My mother-in-law wanted to declare me legally dead and pressure my husband to remarry. My daughter’s classmates bullied her, calling her an unwanted child with no mother. … Just then, the research project achieved ultimate success. I appeared at a global press conference. And in front of the entire world, I gave a message to my family: I’m coming home. 1 Thousands of miles of barren land, yellow sand filling the sky. No one would ever imagine that in such a desolate place, there was a highly classified laboratory. After five grueling years, my colleagues and I finally completed our ultimate research project. This was an era-defining scientific breakthrough. Now, we just had to wait three days for the final test results, and we could finally go home. When the time came, we would announce this achievement to the world. I flashed a tired smile and took out my phone, seeing a few more missed calls pop up on the screen. If I scrolled down, I would find tens of thousands of missed calls. All from the exact same person—my husband. This project was strictly top-secret. My family and friends had absolutely no idea where I was. They didn’t even know if I was dead or alive. After I “disappeared,” my husband, Ryan, went crazy looking for me. He had called me tens of thousands of times. I wasn’t allowed any contact with the outside world. But I never changed my phone number. His daily missed calls had become the motivation that kept me going. In three more days, I could finally answer his call. And tell him. I’m here. I’ve always been here. 2 Back in the breakroom, I immediately opened the baby monitor app on my phone. On the screen, a beautiful, porcelain-doll-like little girl blinked her big, watery eyes and said pitifully: “Daddy, Lily has a Parent-Teacher event in three days. I want Mommy to go for me, can she?” Ryan’s voice was heavy with exhaustion: “Mommy went… on a business trip far, far away… Daddy will go for you.” Lily’s voice was full of grievance, and she started crying as she spoke: “Daddy is lying. Lily is five years old this year, but I’ve never even seen Mommy. “Does Lily not have a Mommy at all…?” “Be good, Mommy is just very busy with work. Maybe… she’ll be back in a little while.” “How long is a little while? I want Mommy right now, can I have her?” Lily held onto Ryan’s hand and asked carefully: “All the kids at school have moms. I’m the only one who doesn’t. They say I’m an unwanted kid that nobody loves. “Their moms pick them up after school, make them delicious food, and knit them pretty sweaters. “Daddy, Lily really, really wants a Mommy too. “I promise, I’ll listen to Mommy and won’t make her mad…” Lily was crying so hard she could barely catch her breath. And all of this, I could only watch through the camera, unable to do a single thing. Five years ago. Just days after giving birth to Lily, I was called away on an emergency mission to this desert lab. I had watched Lily grow up through a camera lens. Even just hugging my own daughter had become an impossible luxury. My heart clenched in pain, as if it was soaking in saltwater, bitterly agonizing. 3 Lily tightly held onto Ryan’s hand, refusing to let go. Her thin wrist slipped out from her sleeve, revealing a patch of skin covered in purple bruises. My heart suddenly seized. “What happened here? Did someone at school bully you?” Ryan had also noticed the bruises on Lily’s arm. But this time, Lily stopped talking. “Tell Daddy, who bullied you?” Lily just cried, refusing to speak. Ryan was about to grab his phone to call her homeroom teacher. Lily panicked: “Don’t call the teacher! Daddy, it was… it was the other kids. They said I’m a wild kid with no mom, and they all bullied me. “They pinch me. It hurts. But… when other kids get hurt, their moms comfort them. I don’t have a mom, so I just keep it to myself.” A surge of fury ignited in my chest. I couldn’t believe that kindergarteners already knew how to isolate and bully others. Looking at Lily’s tiny body and the bruises on her skin, my heart felt like it was being sliced open. Ryan’s face tensed up as he frantically and clumsily applied ointment to her bruises. Right before she fell asleep, Lily asked in a small voice: “Daddy, can you ask Mommy to come back sooner? Please? If I have a Mommy, I won’t be an unwanted kid anymore, and the other kids won’t bully me. I really, really want a friend. “They all say my Mommy is in prison. Is that true? “Is Mommy not coming back because I’m not good enough? “Tell Mommy to come back, Daddy. I promise I’ll be good, I promise I’ll be so good…” With a teardrop hanging from the corner of her eye, Lily drifted into a deep sleep. 4 Hearing those pure, innocent words, a tidal wave of guilt drowned me. Lily was at the prime age of growing up, yet I couldn’t be by her side. I looked at Ryan on the screen. Suddenly, his phone rang, and he hurried to the living room to answer it. It was my mother-in-law calling again. Just like always, she nagged from the other end of the line: “Ryan, why are you still dragging that burden around? I found a great girl from a good family for you. She’s perfect in every way, and she’s never been married. You need to go meet her.” My mother-in-law had a loud, grating voice, constantly pushing Ryan to go on blind dates. “Mom, I’ll say this one more time. Lily is my daughter, not a burden.” Ryan frowned, unhappy with her words. Seeing this, his mother immediately changed her tune: “Okay, okay, okay, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have called the little girl that. “But let’s talk about my daughter-in-law. Can we talk about her?” Ryan was silent. Seeing an opening, she continued: “She disappeared for five years. God knows where she’s fooling around having a good time. Has she thought about this family for even a second?” Ryan’s brows furrowed deeply, and his mother scoffed: “Don’t be in such a rush to argue with me. Am I wrong? If someone dies, there’s a death certificate, right? Even if she went to prison, the police would notify us! But she’s not dead, and she’s not in jail. She just vanished without leaving a single word. “Fooling around outside, abandoning this family. “Because of this mess, the neighbors, relatives, and friends have been gossiping non-stop. At my age, she’s made me lose all my dignity…” “Mom, if you keep talking about Clara like this, I’m hanging up,” Ryan flared up, his voice revealing his exhaustion. “I’ve been looking for her all these years. Maybe she ran into some trouble… Maybe she’ll come back one day. “Stop thinking the worst of her.” His mother wiped her tears (or so she sounded): “I’m thinking the worst of her? “Ryan, who am I playing the bad guy for? Look at yourself. For the past five years, you’ve been playing both mom and dad. You work full-time and take care of the kid. The stray dogs on the street have a better life than you. “As a wife, has she fulfilled even half of her duties? “Look at Lily. The people who know the truth say she has a mom who left right after she was born. Those who don’t? Don’t they just call her a feral child? “Listen to me. Find someone new, declare her mother legally dead. From now on, you’ll have someone to support you, and Lily will have someone to love her. Isn’t that better?” My mother-in-law knew Lily was her son’s weak spot. She reasoned in circles, playing the family card masterfully. Ryan finally sighed: “I’ll think about it.” Seeing he didn’t flat-out refuse, she eagerly emphasized: “The day after tomorrow, remember to clean up a bit… Don’t forget.” 5 Ryan sat in the living room with the lights off. The moonlight fell on his back, making him look exceptionally lonely. He pulled out our wedding photo from a drawer and stared at it for a long time. His face glistened with tears. “Where exactly did you go? I need you, and Lily misses you so much. “I’m so, so tired. I can barely hold on anymore. “Clara, don’t be so cruel… come back.” He murmured to himself in a low voice. The washing machine in the bathroom beeped urgently. He wiped his face and hurried to take the clothes out to hang them up. Then, he boiled a simple bowl of plain noodles. He ate it by himself, not even willing to add an egg to it. After scarfing down his dinner, he opened his daughter’s backpack and checked her homework, word by word. Reading his daughter’s diary, seeing that childish handwriting expressing how much she missed the mother she’d never met, my tears and Ryan’s fell at the exact same time. He worked until the early hours of the morning before finally falling into a deep sleep. Watching Ryan completely exhausted, mumbling in his sleep, my heart broke. If I could, I would comfort him, stay by his side, and tell him I was coming home right away. I turned off the phone. Without realizing it, my face was also covered in cold tears. It had been five years. Every time I saw Ryan and Lily, my heart was torn between family and professional duty. They had suffered too much injustice because of me. Lily, Hubby, just wait for me a little longer. In three more days, I’ll be home. Three days from now, I will personally attend Lily’s Parent-Teacher event. I will tell everyone that Lily has a mother. 6 The project was in its wrap-up phase, just two days from completion. Five years of work was done, and I suddenly had free time. So, unconsciously, I found myself checking the home cameras. “Clara, watching your daughter again?” The lab director, Dr. Harris, walked by and smiled as he greeted me. I didn’t try to hide it, openly letting him look at the little girl on the screen—my daughter, Lily. Since I was using the dedicated military network, this was tacitly allowed by the director. Using this network to view the cameras wouldn’t leave any trace. Two days passed quickly, and my heart suddenly grew tense. Tomorrow was the day the test results would come out, and it was also the day of Lily’s Parent-Teacher event. Right now. She was sitting obediently at the dining table, chewing on her spoon, looking at Ryan with big, hopeful eyes: “Daddy, Mrs. Davis said tomorrow is the Parent-Teacher event.” Ryan’s expression paused, then he took two bites of his food: “Yeah, I know. Daddy will go for you.” Lily bit her lip: “But, Mrs. Davis said it’s best if mommies go…” “It’s the same if I go.” Ryan avoided Lily’s gaze and patted her head. In the past, when he said this, Lily would just obediently stay quiet. But today’s situation was clearly different from what Ryan expected. “Daddy, all the other kids have their mommies going. I’m the only exception. They’re going to call me a weirdo, a wild kid without a mom. They’re definitely going to make fun of me…” Through the monitor, I could instantly see Lily’s sensitive heart. Her personality was very much like mine when I was little. Stubborn and sensitive. This was evident from how she hid the fact that she was being bullied. If this kind of personality wasn’t properly guided and comforted, it could easily turn into paranoia and low self-esteem. Not to mention, Lily was currently in a crucial developmental stage that shapes character. Ryan paused for a long time, his face full of bitterness. Just as he was about to say something, my mother-in-law called: “…How about I go to Lily’s Parent-Teacher event?” My mother-in-law volunteering was a surprise to Ryan. On the other end of the line, she continued: “I’ll go to the event for Lily. Don’t worry about it, just clean yourself up and go on that blind date.” As soon as she finished speaking, Ryan instinctively declined: “Mom, forget it. You’re getting older, it’s not convenient. It’s better if I take Lily.” Hearing this, she got anxious: “Ryan, what is wrong with you? Didn’t you promise you would go?” … My mother-in-law and Ryan argued back and forth, refusing to yield. Just then. Lily’s tiny voice broke the stalemate: “Daddy, Mrs. Davis said tomorrow at the event, parents and kids have to perform a show together…” Hearing this, Ryan seized the opportunity: “Mom, you heard her. Tomorrow requires parents to perform with the kids. “Lily is shy, it’s better if I take her for the performance. Plus, you don’t know how to do those trendy modern shows…” Helpless, his mother had to agree: “Fine, then hurry up and go to the date right after the event is over…” 7 Watching the monitor. My feelings were a bit complicated. To say I wasn’t bothered at all by Ryan going on a blind date would be impossible. But even so, what could I do? I was the one who disappeared for five years. I was the one who left my husband and daughter behind. I was the one who made them suffer so much injustice. A person is judged by their actions, not their thoughts; if judged by thoughts, there would be no saints. Ryan had waited for me for five years. I knew that. Him agreeing now was just to appease his mother. I put down my phone, stood up, and went to the director’s office. “Clara, let’s hear it. What’s up?” “Dr. Harris, once the results are out tomorrow, we should be able to contact the outside world, right?” The director nodded: “Of course.” “Tomorrow, if the experiment is successful, can I be the first to call my family?” I explained, “Tomorrow is my daughter’s Parent-Teacher event at school. I’ve failed as a mother all these years. I want to be there for her as soon as possible.” The director understood what I meant. He looked at me in surprise and asked: “Clara, aren’t you going to attend tomorrow’s press conference?” He advised me with a hint of regret: “Think about it. You lived in this desert incognito for five years. How much did you suffer? How much effort did you put in? For a single test, you’d work for days on end, grabbing a few bites of cold food in between, eating only one or two meals a day. You were a fresh, vibrant young woman when you got here. Look at how exhausted you look now. “Tomorrow you deserve to tell the whole world how much you sacrificed for this project.” I remained silent for a moment: “Dr. Harris, thank you for your support and mentorship. But for me, no matter how many awards I get, no matter how much glory, nothing is as important as seeing my daughter’s smile.” I missed her one-month celebration, her first birthday, her fifth birthday, every Thanksgiving, Christmas, family dinner… Other kids had perfect families, parents to celebrate their birthdays, buying them pretty clothes… But my Lily, she had nothing. I had missed a full five years. But from this day forward, I didn’t want to miss another second. Now, having done my duty to my country, it was time to fulfill my duty as a mother. I wanted to be by her side every single day for the rest of her life. The director didn’t push any further. As a veteran scientist, he understood my sacrifice. “Dr. Harris, is it possible for the organization to arrange a vehicle to take me back tomorrow?” I hesitated for a moment before asking. This desert was extremely remote; there was basically no transportation nearby. Hearing this, the director waved his hand: “You said tomorrow is your daughter’s Parent-Teacher event? “We won’t arrange a car. I’ll contact logistics and clear a helicopter to fly you there. “Leave early, so you can make it in time for the event.” I hurriedly thanked my boss. He reached out and patted my shoulder: “Don’t worry, the organization won’t let down any of its researchers. You’ve had it too hard these past five years. Whatever you need in the future, just ask. If we can accommodate it, we absolutely will.”

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My daughter-in-law is dead. She was a System Host, just like me. I had good luck. I successfully completed my mission, settled down in this world, married, and had a child. But she was obliterated by the System. 1. I called my son to tell him the news of his wife’s death. Arthur just scoffed on the other end of the line. “Mom, how did she buy you off? I can’t believe you’re helping her trick me into coming home with such a pathetic excuse.” I was so furious at this idiot I could hardly breathe. If the official death certificate didn’t take a few days to process, I would have slammed it right into his stupid face. Arthur lowered his voice, trying to placate me: “Mom, Claire’s depression is getting worse. The doctor says she’s having suicidal thoughts.” “I’ll come back once she’s doing a bit better.” This bastard might be my biological son, but he was also the designated Capture Target the System assigned to my daughter-in-law. Whenever Arthur bullied my daughter-in-law for the sake of his “first love,” I stepped in to help her. But the System issued a severe warning. If I interfered as an anomaly again, it would automatically declare her mission a failure. No one knows the consequences of a failed mission better than I do. I had to stand by and watch. The feeling was a mix of agonizing heartbreak and utter helplessness. I kept Evelyn’s funeral low-profile, handling it alongside her adoptive parents. Looking at Mr. and Mrs. Hayes, whose hair seemed to have turned completely white overnight, I couldn’t find a single word of comfort. After all, this was entirely the fault of my bastard son. 2. The day Arthur and Claire returned to the country, he stormed into the house in a blind rage, screaming his wife’s name. “Evelyn! Evelyn! Get your ass out here right now!” I didn’t move. I just watched my son lose his mind with cold, dead eyes. He searched the entire mansion. Finding no trace of her, he ran up to me: “Mom, where is Evelyn? Where the hell is she hiding?” “She’s dead in the ocean. I scattered her ashes in the Pacific.” Arthur looked at me like I was a lunatic. “Mom, stop messing around. Do you know what she did? She secretly leaked the fact that we’re married to TMZ.” “Now the whole internet is attacking Claire, calling her a homewrecker.” “How could she be so vicious?! Claire couldn’t handle the cyberbullying and collapsed. She’s in the hospital!” A cold smirk crept up the corners of my mouth. “Couldn’t handle it? If she can’t handle a little heat, why is she an actress?” Arthur didn’t expect me to take Evelyn’s side so blatantly. He was furious. “Mom, did Evelyn brainwash you?! I’m your actual son!” Heh. If I had known you would turn out to be such world-class trash, I would have drowned you the day you were born. Too lazy to argue, I stood up and headed upstairs. As I walked, I dialed my company’s PR director. “Did you see the trending topics on X?” “Yes, Mrs. Sterling. The one accusing the rising pop star of stepping into your son’s marriage.” “Take it down? Why would we take it down? Double the budget! Don’t let that hashtag drop!” Behind me, my son’s deafening roar echoed through the foyer: “MOM!” 3. The hashtag was eventually taken down by my bastard son. Not only that, but he hired fixers to release a fake relationship timeline between him and Claire. He painted Evelyn as a malicious, gold-digging schemer who forced her way into his bed and drove a heartbroken Claire out of the country. Claire then hosted an Instagram Live. Tearfully, she choked out a story about how she and my son had been deeply in love since college. She claimed the real homewrecker was Evelyn. Honestly, all she had to do was open her mouth, and the internet ate up her lies. Thanks to Arthur’s massive capital backing, Claire’s image was quickly washed clean, and public opinion completely flipped. My assistant asked me: “Mrs. Sterling, should we issue a statement to clear your daughter-in-law’s name?” My face was like ice. “Tell the PR department to prep all the dirt we have. Stay on standby.” Having navigated the corporate shark tank for decades, I knew one universal truth. When you strike, you strike to kill. You make sure your enemies can never rise again. There will be plenty of time for them to regret it later. 4. When Arthur came home that night, the first thing he did was call for his wife. “Evelyn, my stomach ulcer is acting up. Bring me my meds.” I sat at the dining table, slowly eating my dinner, treating him like empty air. Arthur walked up to me, looking confused. “Mom, why are you eating alone? Where is Evelyn?” “What? When you need something, it’s Evelyn. When you’re fine, it’s Claire?” Arthur’s face paled. He looked away unnaturally. “Mom, Claire and I aren’t what you think.” Oh, isn’t that the classic scumbag manifesto? “Mom, my stomach hurts. Call Evelyn and tell her to come home.” “What is her problem anyway? I’ve been back for days and haven’t even seen her. Does she even want to be married anymore?” I gave him a sideways glance, finding the audacity hilarious. “You run off to accompany another woman all day, but you demand Evelyn stay on standby at home? We don’t have a royal throne for you to inherit, boy.” Arthur stiffened his neck and argued back: “Mom, fine, you don’t care that my stomach hurts. But why are you always snapping at me? Is this how a real mother acts?!” Ugh. Looking at my son’s punchable face and listening to his garbage behavior, I instantly lost my appetite. I pushed my plate away, preparing to go upstairs, change, and leave. Arthur’s face was livid. “Mom, Evelyn ran straight to Claire and used our history to trigger her! She caused Claire’s depression to spiral into a suicide attempt. That’s the only reason I took her abroad to recover!” “And when I confronted Evelyn, she played the victim and expected me to believe her. She’s shameless!” “Tell her that if she doesn’t want to come back, she can stay gone forever!” I replied effortlessly, “Okay. Sounds good.” There were security cameras in the house. After Evelyn died, I watched the footage of the fight Arthur picked with her over Claire. Arthur’s words had been absolutely merciless. At the end of the footage, he slammed the door and left. Evelyn squatted on the floor, burying her face in her knees. Her shoulders shook violently as she sobbed, asking the System what she should do. She always acted like she was only here for the mission. But I knew. The mission was just an excuse. She had genuinely fallen in love with him. As a veteran Host who had survived countless worlds, I had constantly warned her: Never give your heart to the Target. Love is the most useless thing for a System Host. It only slows down your extraction speed. But it was too late. Evelyn told me that during college, because she was quiet and introverted, she was heavily bullied by a guy who was obsessed with her. In her most desperate, helpless moment, Arthur stepped in front of her and saved her. He became her light, protecting her throughout her four years of college. And Evelyn had secretly loved him for those entire four years. She was already in too deep to pull out. 5. Arthur clearly didn’t expect me to agree. He let out a shocked sound. “Mom?” “Don’t worry. Evelyn won’t ever come back. Not ever.” I turned my back to him, tilting my head up to force the tears back into my eyes. Arthur furrowed his brows. “Mom, if this is some twisted tactic you and Evelyn cooked up to force me to cut ties with Claire, I am absolutely not compromising.” I remembered a time when Evelyn had severe cramps, in so much agonizing pain she was pale and sweating. She just wanted Arthur to stay home with her. But because of one single phone call from Claire, Arthur ignored Evelyn’s pleas and insisted on leaving. I physically blocked the door, locked him inside, and confiscated his phone. The System immediately issued multiple red-alert warnings. Evelyn’s vital signs even began to drop drastically. Terrified, I had no choice but to unlock the door and let the bastard go. After he left, Evelyn held onto me, crying until she almost threw up. This kind, beautiful girl had been an orphan before she came to this world, tasting nothing but the bitterness of life. After being selected as a Host, she finally gained parents who loved her, and she was so fiercely independent it broke my heart. Even when she was bullied in college, she didn’t dare tell her parents, not wanting to be a burden. After Arthur brought Claire back, he did countless horrible things to Evelyn. Whenever I tried to intervene, Evelyn would always beg me not to ruin my relationship with my son. And the damn System constantly threatened me with Evelyn’s obliteration, forcing me to endure the agony of being a bystander. Thinking of Evelyn, now erased from existence, my mood plummeted. I waved a dismissive hand at my son. “Get out. I don’t want to look at you.” Arthur stormed out in a huff. 6. A few days later, the Sterling Group hosted its annual corporate gala. I never expected Arthur to actually bring Claire to the event. When Claire saw me, the timid, cautious demeanor she had years ago was entirely gone. With Arthur momentarily away, she walked up to me, a smug smile on her face. “Mrs. Sterling, you tried so hard to stop Arthur and me from being together back then. But look, after all these years, the one he truly loves is still me.” I gracefully smoothed a stray hair on my forehead, completely unfazed by her provocation. “Are you so sure my son still loves you?” Claire’s eyes instantly reddened, putting on a flawless act of being bullied. Arthur rushed over, shielding Claire behind him. He looked at me with exasperation. “Mom, can you please stop picking on Claire?” I laughed out loud. “Which one of your eyes saw me picking on her?” Claire, playing the delicate white flower, sniffled and wiped away invisible tears. “Arthur, don’t blame your mother. It’s perfectly normal that she doesn’t like me.” “After all, you come from such a wealthy family, and you’re so outstanding. I don’t deserve you.” Arthur, who had been raised to be respectful, didn’t dare yell at me in public. So he turned to comfort Claire instead. “Don’t take what my mom says to heart. She’s been spoiled by my dad her whole life, so her temper isn’t great. But she’s all bark and no bite.” Too much of a bitch. I couldn’t watch this anymore. As I walked away, I heard Claire whisper to him: “Arthur, is the only reason you won’t divorce Evelyn because your mom won’t allow it?” 7. The paparazzi are excellent at catching the scent of blood. The Sterling Group’s corporate gala didn’t make waves for its business deals. Instead, Arthur and Claire skyrocketed to the top of the trending lists. #SterlingGroupCEOAndPopStarClaireVanceEngagementRumors #ArthurSterlingHoldsHandsWithClaireVanceAtGala #SterlingCEOMakesRelationshipPublic Every media outlet seemed to conveniently forget that the CEO of the Sterling Group, Arthur Sterling, had a legally wedded wife. Occasionally, a few comments would question why Arthur hadn’t announced a divorce, calling Claire a mistress, but they were quickly deleted by PR bots. Arthur and Claire… what a perfect pair of scumbags. 8. That night, my darling son didn’t come home. The paparazzi caught him and Claire entering a five-star hotel owned by the Sterling Group, sparking another wave of trending gossip. The next morning, I hired a moving company to clear out every single thing that belonged to my daughter-in-law. Including their massive wedding portraits. The butler stood nervously to the side, watching me. “Madam, if you clear out all of the young miss’s belongings… won’t you leave even a single keepsake for the young master?” “He isn’t worthy of Evelyn. He would only taint the pure love she gave him.” The butler sighed and said nothing. Looking at the empty, hollow house, I couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down my aged face. My son was Evelyn’s first Capture Target. And her last. I couldn’t help but curse the System: “Out of everyone in this world you could have chosen as the Target, why did it have to be my son?!” The System’s mechanical voice echoed in my head: “This was the Host’s own choice.” I had nothing to say. 9. When Arthur finally came home, he instinctively called out for his wife. “Evelyn! I’m starving, make me a bowl of noodles!” The housekeeper ran out from the kitchen. “Sir, what kind of noodles would you like? I can make them.” Arthur waved his hand impatiently. “No, I want the way Evelyn makes them.” The housekeeper looked at me, hesitating. I gave her a look, and she wisely retreated to her quarters. “Mom, where is Evelyn—” Arthur suddenly froze, his eyes widening in anger. “Where are the wedding photos?” As if realizing something, he sprinted upstairs. A few minutes later, the slam of his bedroom door shook the walls. He stormed back down to me, suppressing his rage. “Mom? What the hell is Evelyn playing at? Is she serious? She emptied the closet! Her clothes, bags, shoes—all gone!” “She even took her skincare bottles off the vanity?! Real mature!” I gave him a half-smile. “Isn’t this exactly what you wanted? Making room for your precious first love.” Arthur pulled out his phone and rapidly dialed Evelyn’s number over and over. Every time, it went straight to an automated out-of-service message. He aggressively ran his hands through his hair, pacing. “Mom, is she seriously trying to divorce me? I don’t believe it!” “She loves me to death! To help cure my stomach ulcers, she spent months researching healthy recipes and cooking for me.” “When we took our wedding photos, I looked miserable the whole time, but she still smiled, called me handsome, and treated that portrait like a treasure, dusting it every single day.” “The year Dad died, the company was in crisis. I was out every night begging for investments, getting bullied by execs, drinking until I threw up blood.” “After that, Evelyn came with me to every business dinner. She took the drinks for me until she was hospitalized for alcohol poisoning.” “She did all of that for me. I refuse to believe she actually wants a divorce.” “This is definitely just a trick. She’s throwing a tantrum so I’ll prove I love her. Well, I’m not playing her game.” “Let’s see how long she can keep up this silent treatment if I just ignore her!” With that, Arthur kicked a priceless porcelain vase in a fit of rage. It shattered across the floor, and he stormed out of the house. A chilling cold spread through my heart. So he knew. He knew everything Evelyn did for him. He just weaponized her love, abusing it without consequence because he knew she wouldn’t leave. She bet her body and soul on this mission, and in the end, she died for it. 10. Suffocating in the house, I met up with a friend to go shopping in Beverly Hills. I didn’t expect to run into my bastard son, accompanying Claire on a shopping spree, at the Chanel boutique. My friend patted my arm, gesturing for me to look over. Claire was clinging to Arthur’s arm, smiling coyly. We walked closer, staying out of sight, and overheard Claire whining: “I really, really love this bag. Buy it for me, Arthur?” “That bag is reserved for Evelyn. I already ordered it for her. I’ll get you a different one for your birthday.” My friend and I exchanged a look of pure shock. Did the sun rise in the west today? Arthur actually refused Claire’s request for Evelyn’s sake. Claire pressed her body entirely against his chest, her voice sickeningly sweet: “Arthur, Evelyn already has so many bags. She doesn’t need this one, right?” “Doesn’t she have your black card anyway? Didn’t you say she loves using your card to buy bags?” “Can’t you just let me have this one? Please?” Those few sentences were a masterclass in manipulative guilt-tripping. My friend and I had seen enough and walked away arm in arm. It didn’t matter anyway. Evelyn was gone. Even if Arthur bought the bag for Claire, Evelyn wouldn’t be here to get her heart broken.

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My clout-chasing cousin staged a malicious prank that sent my grandmother into cardiac arrest. After the video went viral on TikTok, she decided to up the ante: she was going to hire fake armed robbers to break into our house and terrorize my grandmother again. My response? I bought a 12-gauge shotgun. When the “robbers” broke in, I didn’t hesitate. I pulled the trigger. 1. It was Thanksgiving, a rare occasion for the whole family to gather under one roof. Uncles, aunts, and cousins crammed into my grandmother’s house for the holiday. My younger cousin, Chloe, who barely ever visited, actually showed up this year. Because she was the youngest, Grandma spoiled her the most. At the dinner table, Grandma was constantly fussing over her, passing her the gravy, cutting the turkey, and making sure her plate was full. But Chloe didn’t care. She was entirely absorbed in her livestream, shoving her phone in everyone’s faces. The constant loud chatter and obnoxious behavior left the whole family rolling their eyes. Finally, I spoke up: “You have millions of followers. It’s not cool to film the whole family and put us on the internet without asking.” She rolled her eyes at me with pure disdain. “You don’t get it. Holiday traffic is peaking right now, and traffic equals money! Besides, we’re all family. Don’t be so stingy.” She immediately spun back to her camera, puckering her lips. “Omg, thank you for the Galaxy gift, besties! Mua!” I couldn’t stomach her fake, sickeningly sweet persona. “Stop filming me.” I reached out and pushed the camera lens away from my face. I didn’t mind a quick picture for Instagram, but being broadcasted to an audience of millions made my skin crawl. “God, Harper, what century are you living in?” Chloe mocked, her tone dripping with passive-aggression. “Are you from the 1800s? You think a camera is gonna steal your soul?” “It’s rare for all of us to be together, let’s keep the peace,” Grandma quickly intervened, trying to smooth things over. “Chloe, sweetie, just put the phone away for dinner.” I swallowed my anger. It was Thanksgiving, and I didn’t want to ruin the night for Grandma, so I let it go. But I never expected her to take things even further. I had just walked into the kitchen to slice some pecan pie when I heard a blood-curdling scream coming from Grandma’s bedroom upstairs. I sprinted up the stairs and burst into the room. Grandma had collapsed on the floor, completely unconscious. Right beside her lay a highly realistic, remote-controlled rattlesnake. Chloe was standing there, holding her phone on a selfie stick, looking blankly at the screen as the live chat exploded. “I… I didn’t think she’d be this scared…” A furious, blinding rage erupted inside me. I wanted to smash her phone to pieces and slap her across the face. Trading a family member’s health for views. She had absolutely no bottom line. But Grandma’s life was the priority. I shoved Chloe aside and immediately dialed 911. When the paramedics arrived, I helped them load Grandma onto the stretcher. Just as the ambulance doors were about to close, Chloe hopped in. “I’ll go with you guys.” I thought she was actually stepping up to take responsibility. Instead, the second the ambulance started moving, she started her livestream again. She even pointed her camera directly at the EMT who was performing emergency CPR. “Guys, my Grandma is having a heart attack. The medics are doing CPR. This is all because of the prank you guys voted for! Spam ‘1’ in the chat to tell the Grim Reaper to back off! Help your girl out, drop some prayers in the chat!” The EMT glared at her, shaking his head in disbelief. Hearing her absolute sociopathic nonsense, I lunged forward and snatched the phone from her hand. “Chloe, that is enough!” Chloe panicked. “I’m live! Give it back!” I angrily ended the stream and threw the phone right at her chest. If Grandma wasn’t fighting for her life right now, I would have ripped her hair out. She scoffed, caught her phone, and muttered, “It’s just a joke. We’re family. You can’t even take a joke.” “What the hell did you just say?” I snarled. She huffed indignantly. “She’s not gonna die! Why are you yelling at me?! It’s not a big deal, why did you have to throw my phone?” I fought down the urge to strangle her, telling myself I’d deal with her once Grandma was stable. But Chloe wasn’t done. “It was just a little prank! Grandma probably won’t even be mad at me! You’re the one making everyone panic. Am I not allowed to love Grandma just because I stream? I literally asked my chat to pray for her! Stop gaslighting me with your fake moral high ground!” I was so livid I was seeing red. “If Grandma pulls through, I am going to destroy you,” I warned her coldly, then ignored her for the rest of the ride. Luckily, we got her to the hospital in time. She was immediately rushed into the ICU. My dad, my uncles, and my aunts were pacing the waiting room in pure agony. That’s when Chloe appeared, putting on a flawless, tearful act. My dad thought she was coming to apologize and sighed, “We’re family, we know it was an accident. Just don’t do stupid stuff like this anymore.” Chloe nodded obediently. I thought the drama was over. But later, passing by the hospital stairwell, I overheard Chloe’s voice. “Hey besties, I got my family’s forgiveness! I told you guys they wouldn’t actually be mad at me. Grandma is in the ICU right now, so I’m doing a quick stream. Dropping a few Super Chats to help me pay for Grandma’s hospital bills wouldn’t hurt, right?” Standing in the shadows, I clenched my jaw so hard I thought my teeth would shatter. 2. This wasn’t her first time pulling this garbage. Since she arrived for the holidays, she had been a relentless menace. Pranking people, humiliating them on camera, and exposing their insecurities—that was her secret to going viral. She knew my nephew Tyler was struggling with math and science, hoping to get an art scholarship instead. She had shoved her phone right into Tyler’s face: “Tyler, what did you get on your SATs? Didn’t your dad pay thousands for that prep course? If your grades are trash, being good at painting won’t save you. You’re never going to get into a good college.” In front of the entire extended family, the poor kid’s face turned beet red. He was young, prideful, but too shy to snap back. The awkward, humiliating tension immediately brought a surge of viewers to her stream. Later, egged on by her toxic chat, she secretly logged into Tyler’s Xbox and deleted all his saved game data, causing the kid to lock himself in his room for three days. When she saw me playing video games in the living room, she sidled up to me, aiming the camera: “Harper, why are you gaming all day? Haven’t seen you FaceTime a boyfriend all weekend. You’re 25 and still single… wait, don’t tell me you’re still a virgin?” My dad and uncles were sitting right there watching football. I was mortified and furious, my fists balling up at my sides. She put on this smug, ‘know-it-all’ tone. “Aww, is Harper blushing? No way, you’re 25 and never done it? People are gonna laugh at you, girl.” When she saw my Uncle Mark, she enthusiastically dragged him into the frame. Uncle Mark was a laid-back guy, so he just smiled and waved at the chat. But then she zoomed in on his face. “Uncle Mark, your dark circles are crazy. Do you have erectile dysfunction or something? Low testosterone? You’re only 39!” Uncle Mark froze, his smile dying instantly. There were over a dozen relatives in the room. And she ruthlessly doubled down: “Guess my aunt is being left unsatisfied, huh?” Uncle Mark couldn’t even speak; he looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. As the topics got more outrageous, her viewer count skyrocketed. Chloe was absolutely ecstatic, her face twisting into an ugly, greedy grin. I knew then that she was going to do something even worse. Sure enough. When my cousin Ryan brought his new girlfriend home for the first time, Chloe pounced. She didn’t just say hi. She grabbed Ryan’s arm, pressing her chest against him, demanding they take a selfie for Instagram. She was overly handsy, clinging to his shoulder. It made all of us uncomfortable, let alone his new girlfriend. Ryan looked pissed and tried to pull his girlfriend away. Chloe yelled after them, “Wow, haven’t seen you in a few years and suddenly you’re too good for me just because you work in the city now? Have you forgotten when we were toddlers running around in diapers playing husband and wife?!” Unsurprisingly, Ryan’s girlfriend looked horrified. Chloe just proudly looked at her chat. “Pranking 999 people challenge! That makes 27! Keep it up, Chloe, you’re doing great!” 3. A week later, Grandma was finally moved out of the ICU. However, her heart condition had severely worsened due to the shock. The doctors recommended a highly specialized, high-risk surgery. After discussing it with the family, I decided to take Grandma to a top-tier cardiac clinic in Texas for the operation and her subsequent recovery. What I didn’t expect was that the video of Chloe’s snake prank had absolutely exploded online. In a matter of days, it racked up nearly ten million likes on TikTok. I clicked on the video. The comments were sickening. People thought it was just a harmless, staged skit. They had no idea my grandmother almost died. “The ultimate prankster! 10/10 content.” “Pranking your own family is ruthless, but it’s a thousand times better than those fake street pranks.” “Lmao the way Grandma dropped to the floor is kinda cute.” “Karma -1 for laughing.” “Everyone saying Karma -1, chill. Isn’t there a line? She’s elderly. What if she literally had a heart attack?” “Look at the fun police up here! Bro, it’s called entertainment. It’s obviously scripted and acted out.” The intense controversy only fueled the algorithm. The video went mega-viral. As much as I hated Chloe’s guts, I was too busy taking care of Grandma to deal with her. But then, Chloe posted an update that pushed me past my breaking point. In the video, she looked hyped. After thanking her fans for the views, she announced she was turning the family pranks into a series. The next episode would be “Pranking Grandma Pt. 2”. She boldly claimed she was collaborating with a famous, extreme prank squad. I knew exactly who they were. They were a notorious group of YouTubers who got views by harassing innocent people and making them miserable. They would stop exhausted construction workers on the street and ask them why they didn’t apply Sephora makeup before leaving the house. When the bewildered workers just smiled awkwardly into the camera, the internet turned them into memes. Or they would chase down amputees, shove cameras in their faces, and ask why they didn’t just walk on two legs. Then they’d answer their own question: “Oh, because hopping on one leg is faster! Makes sense!” They called their flavor of exploiting disabled and working-class people “post-modern dark comedy.” If anyone got mad, they just gaslit them: “Bro, it’s just a prank. Why are you so pressed?” Everyone hated them in real life, but online, they pulled millions of views. Right now, I had just settled Grandma into a rental house in rural Texas after her successful surgery. Chloe announced she was flying out to prank us again. She even posted a cinematic trailer for “Pranking Grandma Pt. 2”, revealing the plot: they were going to dress up as armed robbers, break into our house, and hold us hostage. I let out a cold laugh and closed TikTok. You want to break into my house in Texas? I don’t care if you’re a fake robber or a real one. You’re not walking out of here alive. If she wanted to play Russian Roulette with her life, I would gladly pull the trigger. 4. The trailer for “Pranking Grandma Pt. 2” caused a massive uproar online. Her follower count surged once again. Millions of people were waiting to see her terrorize my grandmother a second time. Fueled by the hype, Chloe posted daily updates: her plane tickets, ski masks, realistic prop guns, fake blood… Every post drove the internet into a frenzy of anticipation. A few days later, she and her prank squad touched down in Texas. And I took my ID and walked into a local gun shop. Seeing a customer, the owner immediately walked over and asked what I was looking for. “If you want to go hunting, I recommend this rifle. Great penetration, fast reload…” “If it’s for home defense, this compact 9mm is great…” I cut him off. “If I am a woman, home alone, and a group of armed men kicks down my front door, what do I use to stop them instantly?” The owner paused, clearly taken aback by the specific scenario. “What? A whole group of robbers?” “Oh, I see. You want stopping power.” He reached up to the rack behind the counter and pulled down a sleek, matte-black 12-gauge tactical shotgun. “One trigger pull clears the hallway. You could have a grizzly bear charging you, and this would put it on its back.” Feeling the heavy, cold weight of the steel in my hands, I made my decision instantly. “I’ll take it. Give me the buckshot.” You want to play games in my house? I’m going to blow you to pieces. The next day, Chloe posted a photo of her squad at the local Texas airport with the caption: “Going to give you guys the surprise of a lifetime tonight!” At that moment, I was running a cloth over the barrel of my new shotgun. I’ve got a surprise for you, too. In Texas, the Castle Doctrine is absolute. If someone forcefully breaks into your occupied home, you have the legal right to use deadly force to protect yourself. Especially if they look like armed robbers. Whether it was a prank or not, how was I supposed to know? The clock ticked by. That evening, I was in Grandma’s room, helping her change the bandages from her surgery. Suddenly, I heard the crunch of heavy footsteps on the gravel outside. Followed by aggressive, rapid banging on the front door. I peeked through the blinds. They had already set up multiple tripod cameras on the lawn. I calmly pulled out my phone and opened TikTok. Sure enough, they were live. The viewer count was skyrocketing, the chat moving so fast it was a blur. “The hype is real! It’s finally starting!” “Lmao I bet the cousin is gonna piss her pants. Even if she knows it’s a prank, she’s gonna be terrified.” “For real, Chloe’s props and acting are way too good.” “Kick the door down already! I want to see the grandma’s face! She’s so cute when she’s scared!” “If the homeowner literally gets a heart attack, Chloe is a menace and I love it.” “Taking bets! How many seconds until the cousin starts crying?” I quietly put my phone in my pocket. I didn’t respond to the violent knocking. Instead, I walked into the living room. I pulled the shotgun from behind the couch, loaded the shells, and clicked off the safety. The show was about to begin. I raised the shotgun, aiming the black barrel dead center at the wooden front door. Standing on the other side of the wood, I shouted: “Who is it?!” The second they breached, I was going to turn them into Swiss cheese.

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When my AP Calculus teacher assigned Chloe to be my lab partner, I knew the plot was officially starting. If I aced a test, she’d say: “I’m so jealous of you. You don’t even have to study to get an A. Unlike me, I only sleep five hours a night, and if I’m not careful, my grades drop…” If I went to a national academic decathlon, she’d say: “The school treats you so well, finding ways to pad your resume for college apps. Sigh…” If I got an early admission offer from an Ivy League school, she’d say: “With your family’s connections, you can get in anywhere you want. Meanwhile, I have to save every piece of scrap paper…” And just like that, my childhood best friend—our school’s star quarterback—felt sorry for her, and my roommates hated me for “bullying the weak.” In my past life, they bullied me to death. Right before I died, I heard Chloe say: “Oops, she just fell from the roof. But hey, that Ivy League spot is open now…” When I opened my eyes again, I was staring at Chloe, who was timidly moving her desk next to mine. I smiled. If I don’t play her to death in this life, my name isn’t Harper Montgomery! 1 When my homeroom teacher seated Chloe next to me, I knew immediately. The plot of my past life was repeating itself. Chloe’s grades were aggressively mediocre. She was always just a few points short. Knowing she came from a low-income family, the teacher placed her next to me, hoping I could help her out. After all, I was the Class President. Plus, as the resident genius girl, I was known for being helpful and kind. But that was in my past life. I watched with a mocking smirk as Chloe timidly dragged her desk next to mine. She sat down quietly, and plop—a single tear fell from her eye. “I’m so jealous of you, Harper. Even your pens are so pretty. They must be really expensive, right? Unlike me… I’ve never used a pen this pretty in my entire life…” Here we go. Here she goes again. I let out a cold laugh and ignored her. In my past life, when she did this, my heart softened, and I gave her my own expensive stationery without a second thought. I went out of my way to take care of her. I shared my lunch, bought her drinks, gave her everything. And in the end, I gave her my life. Seeing that I was ignoring her, a flash of embarrassment crossed Chloe’s face. But this was Chloe. Did you think a little embarrassment would stop her? A second later, she angled her body, revealing a tear-streaked, pitiful face. “Harper, you don’t hate me, do you? I guess it makes sense. You were born rich and privileged, so it’s normal that you look down on people. Unlike me, I’m used to walking on eggshells and reading the room…” I lost my patience and slammed my textbook onto my desk with a loud SMACK. It was passing period, and the classroom was noisy, but the sheer force of the slam made the entire class turn and look at us. Chloe also looked stunned. I kept a deadpan expression. She wanted attention? Fine, I’ll give her the spotlight. I sneered, “Chloe, the teacher put you here to study, but the second you sit down, you start crying. “What’s the deal? Are you unhappy sitting next to me? Then go complain to the teacher!” Chloe trembled violently, shrinking into herself. “Harper, no, you… you misunderstood me.” Her eyes dimmed dramatically. “I… I just… I’ve never seen such nice school supplies. I’m just envious. “Harper, I’m really just jealous of you. You were born into a wealthy family and never had to worry about money. You have such pretty stationery and notebooks. Unlike me…” I cut off her manipulative monologue immediately. “Why should I be like you? Like you in what way? Like you with an empty brain? Am I blind? I’m prettier than you, smarter than you, why the hell would I want to be like you? “You’re jealous of my stationery? What, are you trying to guilt-trip me into giving it to you for free? “Do I owe you something? “So what if my family has money? Do you hate the rich? Wow, that must be exhausting for you. There are a lot of wealthy kids in this class, are you going to hate all of them?” As soon as I finished speaking, the rest of the class started whispering. They pointed at Chloe, murmuring to each other. After all, our school is an elite, private prep school. The students here either come from old money or political dynasties. I don’t know about other classes, but in our homeroom, no one slacks off just because their family is rich. Everyone is fiercely competitive. We may have been born on third base, but that doesn’t mean we don’t swing the bat. In fact, we work twice as hard as regular students because the expectations placed upon us are astronomically higher. That’s exactly why the school placed the only two scholarship students from low-income neighborhoods into our homeroom. One was Chloe. The other was Mia, who was also assigned to be my roommate in the dorms. Even though their middle school grades were top-tier, keeping up with the rigorous curriculum of an elite prep school was visibly a struggle for them. 2 I stared coldly at Chloe, who was huddled in her seat. The whispers around us were loud and clear. “What is Chloe’s problem? Mr. Davis sat her next to Harper, and she’s complaining? If she doesn’t want the seat, she can move! Half the class would kill to sit next to the Class President!” “Exactly! That’s free elite tutoring! I want that seat!” “Holy crap, she actually pissed Harper off! It’s senior year, and this is the first time I’ve ever seen the Class President get mad!” “Ugh, she’s so fake. Calling the President ‘Harper’ like they’re besties or something.” “And crying about not having nice school supplies? Excuse me, did Mr. Davis and the school’s financial aid office just cease to exist? The school gives them a stipend every semester for supplies!” “Ugh. What an ungrateful brat.” I glanced casually at Mia, who was sitting a few rows behind me. One of my roommates. In my past life, she, Chloe, and my brain-dead childhood friend, Liam, constantly guilt-tripped and gaslit me until I lost my footing and fell from a ten-story roof. And after I died, Liam actively slandered me to my parents, twisting the truth completely. He convinced them that I was a high school bully who constantly tormented poor, helpless Chloe and Mia. My parents, overwhelmed with guilt and manipulated by his lies, pulled strings with the school board to transfer my Ivy League early admission spot to Chloe. They even paid full tuition for both Chloe and Mia’s four years of college! Thinking about this made my blood boil. I wanted to march over and beat Chloe and Mia to a pulp! At that moment, Mia frowned, stood up from her desk, and marched over to me. “Harper, it’s really not a big deal. Why are you trying to humiliate Chloe? “She was just making a comment.” Mia patted Chloe’s shoulder, acting like the ultimate savior of the oppressed. I laughed. Mia really thought she was something special. She had completely forgotten that her garbage GPA had only improved because I sacrificed my own free time every night to painstakingly tutor her. Now that she thought she had a shot at a state university and was going to change her life, she suddenly thought she was the savior of the masses? I let out a cold laugh and fired back: “Wow, look who it is. The superhero of the classroom. “Do you want me to move the Statue of Liberty so you can sit there instead? “Do you just have that much free time? Did you finish your AP Calculus homework? Did you memorize your SAT vocab? Did you finish your practice tests? “Are you serious, Mia? Did you already secure an acceptance letter from Harvard or Yale? Is that why you have the time to mind other people’s business?” Mia’s face flushed bright red. She opened her mouth to argue, but the bell rang. The students standing around immediately turned and scurried back to their desks. Only Chloe, still sobbing quietly, and Mia, holding her, were left standing awkwardly. I frowned. “Are you guys filming a soap opera? The bell rang! Go back to your seat!” A few students behind me chimed in. “Yeah! If you don’t sit down, you’re just going to complain later that the rich kids are bullying you!” “Ugh, Chloe is always acting so timid, like everyone owes her something.” Chloe clearly heard them. She gently pushed Mia away, her face pale, and silently lowered her head. Mia stood awkwardly between us, then lowered her head and quickly hurried back to her seat. I smirked and sat down. Just as I took my seat, the teacher walked in. “Class, take your seats!” No one mentioned the drama from passing period. It was as if it never happened. But I was the only one who saw Chloe tense up, her fists clenched tightly in her lap. She didn’t even pay attention to the lesson. I let my lips curl into a cold smile. Chloe, in this life, I’m taking the moral high ground before you even get a chance to climb it. Let’s see how you handle this. 3 As soon as the bell for lunch rang, Chloe stood up, squeezed past my desk, and ran out of the classroom. Mia walked past my desk shortly after, glaring at me with pure hatred before leaving. I chuckled lightly and ignored them. My other two roommates, Lily and Sarah, walked over and pulled up chairs around my desk. I blinked, looking at their worried faces. “What’s going on with you today?” Lily put a hand on my forehead. “You don’t have a fever… “Harper, did you have a personality transplant today?” Sarah nodded vigorously. “Yeah! I can’t believe you actually roasted Mia and Chloe during the break. We wanted to back you up, but we didn’t even know what was happening.” My eyes welled up slightly, and I scrunched my nose. In my past life, I was always polite and accommodating to everyone. I rarely lost my temper. No wonder they were shocked. I smiled and pinched both of their cheeks. “Don’t worry, don’t worry. I’m fine. “I just finally saw certain people for who they really are.” Lily and Sarah exchanged a look, then simultaneously let out a sigh of relief. Lily: “Oh my god, thank goodness you finally woke up! You have no idea, Sarah and I have been annoyed with Mia for ages.” I raised an eyebrow, asking, “What happened?” Sarah pouted and whispered to me: “You don’t know, but whenever you’re not in the dorm, Mia acts like she owns the place. “She’s always bragging about how she’s going to get into a top state school, and acts like doing dorm chores or cleaning up is beneath her.” Lily added: “And… we caught her and Chloe trash-talking you a few times. We wanted to tell you, but you were spending so much time tutoring Mia, so we thought…” Me: … I was utterly speechless at Mia and Chloe. They didn’t have the royal bloodline, but they sure had the Princess Syndrome! I gently patted their hands. “Don’t worry, I don’t blame you guys.” After all, if they had told me back then, given my pushover personality, I probably wouldn’t have believed them. As for tutoring? LMAO. That depends entirely on my mood now! 4 Lily and Sarah were about to keep gossiping when Mia stood at the classroom door and yelled: “Harper! Mr. Davis wants to see you!” I stared coldly at Mia, and then at Chloe standing next to her, whose face still had obvious tear streaks. Looks like they went crying to the homeroom teacher. Are you kidding me? Is this the best they can do? Do they still think they’re in middle school? I smiled brightly, stood up, and walked over to them. I cleared my throat and purposely raised my voice: “Oh my, look at the tear tracks on Chloe’s face. Did someone bully you? “Oh dear, it wasn’t me, was it? I didn’t even touch you.” Chloe trembled and quickly hid behind Mia. She bit her lip, and the tears started falling again. The next second, her performance began. “Harper, you really misunderstood me… I… I don’t know how to earn your forgiveness. “If my death is the only way to prove I’m not a bad person, I’ll die to apologize!” With that, she made a dramatic lunge as if she was going to bash her head against the hallway wall. Mia immediately grabbed her arm, turned to me, and started screaming: “Harper! Why are you driving Chloe to suicide?! Do you think just because you’re rich, we’re your toys?!” I twitched my mouth, thoroughly unimpressed. Were they filming a CW teen drama? Had they been watching too much trashy reality TV? I was too lazy to play along. I dropped my smile and fired back: “Who’s driving who? Aren’t you two the ones screaming about dying in the middle of the hallway? “If you’re going to do it, then do it! Hit the wall! “Mia, why are you throwing a tantrum at me again? Did I give you an inch and you decided to take a mile? Do you want me to kick you into next week?” “You!” Mia glared at me, pointing a finger in my face, but before she could say anything else, Sarah slapped her hand down from behind. Sarah: “Don’t point! Don’t you know it’s incredibly rude?!” Lily smiled softly and stood next to me. “Mia, you’re the one in the wrong here. Harper has helped you so much, and she’s never once looked down on your background.” I glanced casually at Chloe, who was staying out of the crossfire. She was staring at her shoes, the corners of her mouth twitching slightly upward. I smiled. “Chloe, why don’t we go see the teacher together?” Hearing her name, Chloe flinched and bit her lip, looking victimized. “Harper, I… I’m not like you. I can’t just go see the teacher whenever I want. “You’re dressed so nicely and expensively, of course you can go anywhere. Unlike me… I’ve never worn a dress that pretty. I try to avoid people…” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. How thick was her skull? Was she really still trying to guilt-trip me into buying her things? And she never even answered the question! I seriously doubt how she passed the entrance exams for this school. “What, are you going to a royal ball or something? You need to be decked out in gold and diamonds just to walk into the teacher’s lounge? Or what, do you want our entire class to start a GoFundMe to buy you a designer gown just so you feel worthy enough to talk to Mr. Davis?” Chloe’s face turned chalk-white. Seeing more and more students gathering in the hallway to watch, her legs suddenly “gave out,” and she collapsed against Mia. “Chloe!” Mia anxiously held her up, turning to glare at me with venom in her eyes. “Harper! What is wrong with you today?! Look what you did, you made Chloe pass out from stress!” I rolled my eyes. “If she’s that fragile, isn’t that her own medical problem? “You’re acting like Mother Teresa today, why don’t you hurry up and carry her to the nurse’s office? “You’re so tough, why are you all talk and no action?” Mia froze. It seemed she hadn’t expected me—the girl who was always so easy to manipulate—to relentlessly target them today. I didn’t care. I bumped past their shoulders and walked straight to the teacher’s lounge. 5 As soon as I walked into the office, Mr. Davis waved me over. “Harper, come here.” I smiled warmly, pretending to be completely clueless. “Mr. Davis, did you need something?” He pushed his glasses up his nose, looking a bit concerned. “Did you and Chloe have a disagreement? She and Mia came in here crying earlier…” I acted shocked. “Mr. Davis, I have no idea! “With AP exams coming up and classes being so stressful, who has the time for petty drama?” Mr. Davis clearly trusted me more. He sighed: “Do you want me to move your seats? The administration suggested I seat you together, but I don’t want it to affect your academic performance.” I couldn’t help but laugh internally. Chloe and Mia were truly idiots. Did they really think crying to the teacher would work? Please. I’m the Class President and the valedictorian. I smiled politely. “No need, Mr. Davis. They can’t affect me. It’s just…” I paused, looking conflicted. “What is it?” I sighed heavily, putting on a serious face. “Mr. Davis, studying requires personal effort. “I want to help her, but if she doesn’t appreciate it, it’s just wasting my time.” Mr. Davis thought for a moment, then suddenly pulled a form out of his desk drawer. My eyes lit up. I was thrilled. “Actually, I was going to tell you about this in a few days. “There’s a National Academic Decathlon coming up, and the school wants you to represent us. Fill out this registration form and bring it back to me. “Just focus on preparing for the decathlon for now, Harper. I believe in you. You’ve got this!” I carefully took the form and nodded solemnly at the teacher. “Don’t worry, Mr. Davis. I will definitely make the school proud!” Are you kidding? My family owns shares in this school. Not that many people knew that. Making the school proud meant higher enrollment numbers next year. Which meant fatter dividend checks for my family! I happily carried the registration form back toward the classroom. Just as I reached the door, I saw a guy sitting at my desk, talking to Chloe. Seeing Chloe occasionally lowering her head in a shy, demure way, I smirked. Perfect. The main cast of this tragedy was finally fully assembled. 6 In my past life, it was around this exact time. My childhood best friend and the school’s star quarterback, Liam, came to my classroom looking for me, only to run into the fragile, bird-like Chloe. They hit it off immediately. And when I came back with the registration form, eager to share the good news with Liam… With a single, pathetic sentence from Chloe, Liam demanded that I give my competition spot to her. In my past life, I was too used to being a people-pleaser. Even though I was hurt, seeing Chloe’s desperate, hopeful eyes, I caved. I gave her the spot, and she was eliminated in the very first round… She single-handedly tanked the school’s reputation in the state finals. And Liam? He blamed me. “Why didn’t you tutor her better? Did you want her to make a fool of herself?! Harper, I’ve known you my whole life, and I never realized you were this manipulative! No wonder you gave up your spot so easily!” Heh. In my past life, I was a massive idiot. I compromised over and over again, and I never told my parents about what was happening at school. That’s what allowed these losers to think they could walk all over me. Liam probably forgot that the only reason his family had money was because my family threw them a bone. I stared coldly at the two of them chatting and let out a soft laugh. I walked quietly up to my desk and kicked the chair hard. Liam lost his balance and nearly fell face-first into Chloe’s lap. Furious, Liam jumped up, ready to start cursing. But when he saw it was me, he instantly deflated. Still, Liam had an ego to maintain. He puffed out his chest and demanded: “Harper, what the hell are you doing?! Did you forget your meds today?!” I ignored him. I pulled a bottle of disinfectant spray out of my desk and started spraying my desk and chair aggressively. After spraying, I grabbed a paper towel and wiped everything down vigorously. Once I was done, I finally sat down and shot Liam an icy glare. “Some disgusting trash sat on my desk. It was dirty.” Liam’s face turned beet red. He slammed his hand down on my desk in anger. Without a second thought, I sprayed the disinfectant directly onto his hand. “AH!” Liam yanked his hand back. “Harper! What is your problem?! Are you crazy?! “I don’t care how much you apologize, I am never forgiving you for this!” Ugh, childish. I slammed the registration form onto my desk and glared at him. “Liam, what are you barking at? Go back to the locker room. Stop barking at people.” “Harper! You just called me a dog!” Liam’s face flushed with rage. He looked like he wanted to grab me by the collar. I stared blankly at his hand reaching toward me. “Liam, did you forget what happened the last time your family almost went bankrupt?” Liam froze. His hand hovered awkwardly in the air. Meanwhile, Chloe stretched her neck, trying to read the form on my desk. I smirked and deliberately pushed the form closer to her. Just as I predicted, Chloe read it closely and gasped: “Oh my god, Harper, are you going to the National Academic Decathlon?!” I ignored her, so she just kept talking to herself, “The school treats you so well, finding ways to pad your resume for college apps. Sigh, unlike me. My family is poor, so of course the school would never give me a spot like this…” Ha. Here we go again.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “434843”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The day my brother died, his Ivy League acceptance letter arrived in the mail. My mother suffered a sudden heart attack, and my father got into a severe car crash rushing home. Meanwhile, Serena—the girl my brother had worshipped and ruined his life for—was sitting in a neon-lit bar, casually bragging about how two boys were fighting over her like some teen drama. I stormed into that bar with a switchblade. The exact moment I plunged it toward Serena, time rewound. I was pulled back to my junior year of high school. Back when my brother was still the untouchable, straight-A golden boy of our school. Nothing had happened yet. 1 It was only a moment’s daze before the chaotic noise of the bar shifted into the sharp ring of the school bell. My body was still holding the exact posture of gripping the knife, but the object in my hand was now a black ballpoint pen. And at this very moment, it was stabbed directly into the hoodie of another boy. It was Damon. The undisputed bad boy of the school, the son of a state senator, and one of Serena’s many obsessive suitors. In my previous life, on the day of the tragedy, he led a group of guys to corner my brother in an alley over Serena. My brother died under the frantic knife strikes of one of those street thugs. The coroner’s report stated a single blade pierced his chest. And Damon? Afterward, he simply stated, “I didn’t know the guy brought a knife,” and used his father’s political weight to wash his hands of the entire murder. He looked down at the pen jabbing into his chest, then back up at me, his face devoid of expression. He just coldly asked, “Can I help you?” My brother’s corpse, my mother’s wailing, and my father whom I never got to see one last time. The memories crashed against my temples. I glared at him, fighting with everything I had to suppress my trembling hands so I wouldn’t lunge forward and snap his neck. Damon’s brows furrowed. He was just about to say something when Mr. Harris, our history teacher, barked an order that silenced the room. “Class has started! What’s going on in the back?!” I snapped back to reality and looked around, instantly spotting the girl standing on the podium next to the teacher. “Damon, Riley, get back to your seats. “Let me introduce the new transfer student joining our class this semester, Serena.” I walked back to my desk like a zombie, watching the gazes in the room gravitate toward Serena. She was pale, petite, with incredibly delicate features. The sunlight slanting across the podium stretched her shadow, making her look picture-perfect. With a sweet smile and a cunning glint in her eyes, Serena gave a flawless introduction before the teacher pointed her to the empty seat right next to mine. It wasn’t until she followed the exact routine of my memory, walked up to me under everyone’s watchful eyes, and brightly said “Hi,” that I was completely certain. I had actually traveled back in time. I was back to the beginning of junior year, the exact time Serena transferred to our school, and the starting point of our nightmare. In the days to come, she would use her enviable beauty and soft, helpless persona to become the school’s It-girl. She would aggressively entangle herself with my brother until she lived in his heart. She went from being the unattainable crush of every boy to the fatal scar on my brother’s soul. And Evan—my brilliant brother who died in a pool of blood—became her favorite trophy. The golden boy who fell from grace, threw away his future, and died just for her. Unlike the first time we met, when I genuinely admired her beauty and was happy to be her friend, this time, I just rested my head on my hand and gave her a sideways glance. I looked up, stared dead into her eyes, and gave a fake, hollow smile. “Nice to meet you.” Since I had a second chance, I was definitely going to “treat her nice.” 2 During class, Serena held a palm-sized mirror, constantly adjusting her blonde hair. I just stared out the window, lost in thought. I was originally the type of student who buried my head in textbooks, ignoring the parties and the drama. Even though Evan’s grades were stellar, he was always ranked just behind me. Coming back to junior year, the AP material the teacher was lecturing on was stuff I only needed a quick glance to master. Because of this tunnel vision, when I found out Evan was dating in my past life, I gossiped for a minute and then brushed it off. A popular girl and a star student. It didn’t seem controversial. Even when he started smoking and drinking with Serena, and his GPA began to slip, I only mocked him in my head—thinking boys blinded by love just get what they deserve. But those thoughts became a curse. Evan died. He died on the exact day of our eighteenth birthday. Mom always said that when we were born, we were only one minute apart. That day, he made his final phone call to me. He said he had waited in line for an hour just to get the limited-edition cupcakes I loved. By the time I rushed to the scene, Evan’s body had already been taken away. In that alley, beside the crushed cupcakes, was a large bouquet of baby’s breath, trampled into the dirty asphalt. They were my favorite flowers. There are millions of love-struck teenagers in the world. Some get lost, some go crazy, but they rarely end up dead. And even if they do, that person was never going to be my brother. Fate gave me a chance to start over, and I was going to change the ending that shattered my family. I was going to pull my brother Evan out of the abyss and back into his bright, brilliant eighteenth year. The moment the bell rang, a crowd flocked around my and Serena’s desks, all of them eager to win her favor. I was sandwiched between Serena and her new fan club. Damon even leaned one hand heavily on my desk, leaning right across me to tap on Serena’s desk. With a tone he clearly thought was cool and casual, he asked: “Wanna grab lunch together later?” I cringed so hard I involuntarily rolled my eyes, cursing him as an idiot in my head. A second later, Damon’s cold gaze snapped to my face. I didn’t care what he thought about my eye roll, nor did I care if I offended him. I had something much more important to do. I stood up, aggressively shoved my way through the crowd, and headed toward the classroom next door—Evan’s AP Physics class. Standing at the door, I frantically scanned the room for him. Suddenly, someone tapped my shoulder, and a familiar, cool voice dropped into my ear: “Looking for me?” I turned around. Evan was standing there holding a hydro flask, lazily raising an eyebrow at me. I had never looked at him with such intense focus. This Evan right in front of me—he was alive. His varsity jacket hugged his growing frame, his jawline was sharp, and his shadow, cast by the sunlight, completely enveloped me. Seeing me speechless, he frowned and waved a hand in front of my face. “What’s wrong?” My nose stung. I looked down, rubbed my eyes, and when I looked back up, my face was covered in tears. “Evan…” I desperately fought the urge to throw my arms around him. I opened my mouth, but my throat was so tight I couldn’t make a sound. Evan froze in shock. He quickly wiped away my tears, his fingertips cool against my skin. He switched to a gentle, serious tone: “Tell me. What happened?” I forced a smile that looked worse than crying, choking out: “Nothing. Let’s just go home early today. I miss Mom and Dad.” Evan laughed in disbelief. “Are you in kindergarten? Why are you being such a baby?” He placed a hand on my back, pulling me into a comforting half-hug. “Alright, we’ll leave right after the last bell.” Confirming that Evan was perfectly normal lifted the massive weight off my chest. I chatted with him for another second before turning to head back to class. But the moment I turned, Serena was walking up to us with a beaming smile. “Desk-mate! I wanted to ask if you’d walk with me to the counselor’s office.” She flashed her dimples, intimately looping her arm through mine, and blinked innocently at Evan standing behind me. “Is this your boyfriend? He’s so handsome. Can I hang out with you guys later?” 3 I glanced back at Evan. He was frowning, looking at me with pure confusion. He was clearly weirded out by the “boyfriend” comment. I smiled at him, then turned my head and deadpanned to Serena: “No. “My brother doesn’t like girls who reek of cheap perfume.” The moment the words left my mouth, Serena’s face contorted as if she’d eaten a lemon. She subtly ducked her head to sniff herself. Confirming she didn’t smell bad, the corners of her mouth dropped, her expression turned cold, yet her words remained playing the victim: “…Riley, today is my first day at this school. I really hoped we could get along. “If I offended you somehow, please just tell me straight, instead of attacking me out of nowhere.” A sincere expression, polite phrasing, neither overly humble nor aggressive. She looked like a fragile white flower shivering in the cold wind but standing tall. I mirrored her posture, looking just as sincere. “Huh? How did I attack you? You really do have a strong smell…” I even turned to Evan and blinked. “Right, Evan? Didn’t you smell it?” Suddenly put on the spot, Evan gave me a helpless look and had no choice but to play along. “Yeah… I guess a little…” “Right? It smells exactly like that expired, two-faced green tea stuff sitting in the back of our pantry.” I grinned at her. Serena’s face was completely drained of color. Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes, and the light vanished from her gaze as she looked at Evan. With her cheeks burning red, she spun around and sprinted back into the classroom. I watched her back and let out a cold scoff, only to get a light flick on the forehead from Evan. He looked at me with a scrutinizing gaze. “Why are you picking on the new girl?” I interpreted that as Evan instinctively protecting Serena. Flashbacks from my previous life surged into my mind, and an overwhelming wave of disgust washed over me. My tone grew harsh: “What? Does your heart ache for her? Then why did you play along with me just now? Go comfort her if you care so much.” Evan’s face showed sheer bewilderment. After a moment, his expression darkened, and his voice dropped. “You’re acting really weird today. “That girl’s perfume was a bit strong, I was just telling the truth. “If someone bullied you, tell me. But if you’re just throwing a tantrum at random people, do whatever you want.” With that, Evan turned and headed back to his class. I regulated my breathing. Right before the bell rang, I called out to his back: “I just don’t like her! And if you ever fall for her, you are no longer my brother!” 4 I walked back into class, feeling hollow. Since we were kids, Evan and I rarely fought or spoke to each other so aggressively. I also knew that blindly attacking Serena in front of him was a terrible strategy. After all, I was the only one with the perspective of the future. Thinking back, I was the one who personally handed Serena over to Evan. When my beautiful, friendly new desk-mate asked, “Can I hang out with you guys later?” for the first time, I had accepted her without a second thought. From then on, she walked to school with us, ate lunch with us, day after day. The way Serena looked at my brother grew increasingly sticky. She would even intercept love letters from other girls, reading them to him in her sickly-sweet voice, watching his ears turn red before delivering a perfectly calculated, flirtatious remark. They started going out on weekends more and more, and Evan’s class rank plummeted. Meanwhile, I was locked away in my ivory tower of academics, completely oblivious—thinking, let them date. If I’m the only one getting straight A’s, Mom and Dad will just buy me a better car. How could the me from back then have known how it would end? The bell rang. Next period was P.E. The students were filtering out of the classroom. I grabbed an AP Calculus worksheet, planning to sit in the bleachers and do it. But I found someone sitting in my seat. Damon was lazily flipping through my test papers. I walked right up to him, but he didn’t even lift his head. I reached out, snatched the paper from his hand, and spat out two icy words: “Get up.” Damon finally deigned to look up at me, his eyes full of mockery. “Look at the nerd. Playing hard to get?” I ignored him and repeated: “Get up.” Damon decided to be even more stubborn. He leaned back, putting his full weight onto my backpack, and let out a hearty laugh. “I heard you’re pretty tough. Made the new girl cry. “Are you trying this hard to get my attention?” I stared at him in silence for two seconds, then smiled. “Yeah. I just love watching her cry. And I love it even more when she cries and her little lapdogs trip over themselves trying to bite people for her. “It gives me this… fascinating thrill of watching pathetic creatures perform.” Damon’s face instantly shifted, a layer of frost settling over his features. He stood up violently, grabbing my chin with a crushing grip. He glared at me, studying me with an unfamiliar gaze, before suddenly laughing—a complex, dark sound. “Riley, it seems we didn’t know each other well enough before. “I suddenly think that starting right now, we can get to know each other properly.” The very next second, he hissed in pain and released me. I had grabbed a box cutter from the desk and sliced a deep gash across his hand. I shoved him hard, making him stumble back into the chair. I looked down at him. “Sorry, I don’t deal with idiots.” I picked up my worksheet, shoved a pen into my pocket, and walked away. 5 During P.E., I experienced Damon’s “sincerity” in wanting to get to know me. Even with a bandaged hand, he was still the undisputed king of the basketball court. Ignoring the icy glares he shot my way, I focused solely on mentally mapping out the solution to the final calculus problem. However, the basketballs repeatedly flying in my direction forced me to pay attention to the court. On the final throw, I scanned the area, bent down pretending to tie my shoe, and subtly adjusted my position. The basketball in Damon’s hands flew toward me in a perfect, aggressive arc. I tilted my head, dodging it by an inch. A split second later, a loud, dull thud of a basketball hitting flesh echoed behind me, followed by a piercing scream. “Ahhh!” The scattered groups of girls rushed past me, and the boys on the court stopped running, looking our way. The source of the scream—Serena—was covering her face, sobbing quietly. Seeing this, practically the entire class swarmed her, rushing to comfort the fragile flower. Only Damon stopped a few paces away from the crowd, silently staring at me. Seeing that I was looking back, he mouthed the words: “On purpose?” The girls were already chattering, defending Serena. “What kind of psycho throws a ball like that? If you’ve got that kind of aim, go draft for the NBA!” “It was Damon! I literally saw him throw it right at her!” The boys, however, guiltily defended their “alpha,” trying to change the subject. “Stop talking, let’s just get Serena to the nurse.” “It was obviously an accident, alright?” Damon stood with his arms crossed, not saying a word, his face looking terrible. He shot me another unreadable look, finally walked forward, stopped in front of Serena, and said stiffly: “I’ll take you to the nurse.” Serena’s eyelashes were wet and red. She forced a tragic, beautiful smile, looking incredibly pitiful. “It’s okay, Damon. I believe you didn’t mean it. It doesn’t hurt that much. Everyone, please don’t be mad at him.” “What do you mean he didn’t mean it? Can’t he even say a simple ‘I’m sorry’?” “Exactly. He was just hitting on people earlier, now he thinks he’s too good to apologize?” Her “he didn’t mean it” sparked another wave of whispers. The girls chimed in one by one, stabbing right at Damon’s ego. Finally, Damon let out a furious, “Shut up!” that instantly silenced the gym. Even Serena was startled, her eyes widening in confusion as she looked at him. Damon’s face was like ice. He completely ignored Serena, bent his long arm down, scooped up the basketball, and walked straight back to the court. Most of the boys scrambled to follow him. Seeing Serena’s disappointed expression and the fleeting shadow in her eyes, I sneered internally. She prided herself on being smooth. She thought that by lowering herself, she could trigger Damon’s guilt and solidify her perfect, innocent persona. She had no idea that a guy like Damon—arrogant and full of himself—would only apologize if he wanted to. Being forced onto the moral high ground and bullied into an apology? He hated that. His initial interest in her was just the primal instinct of a teenage boy looking at a pretty girl. But making him the target of everyone’s criticism? It only triggered his rebellious disgust. He was just a trash guy with a fragile ego. Realizing she wasn’t getting Damon’s apology or concern, Serena couldn’t be bothered to act anymore. She stood up briskly, perfectly fine, and stared thoughtfully in Damon’s direction. After school, while I was packing my bag, Evan was already waiting at the door of my classroom. He leaned casually against the lockers, drawing the attention of several girls. Evan’s cold demeanor wasn’t a pose; he just genuinely didn’t care. His eyes softened as he waved in my direction, signaling me to hurry. I slung my backpack over one shoulder. Before leaving, I purposely glanced at Serena’s desk—empty. Stepping into the hall, I realized Evan wasn’t in a rush to leave. He stayed leaning against the lockers, pretending to look at me coldly. “What?” I urged. “Aren’t we leaving?” “I’m waiting for my sister. Who are you?” he said casually. I realized he was still hung up on what I said at noon. I nodded cooperatively and turned to walk away. “Then I’m going to find my brother. Bye.” Evan finally dropped the act, followed behind me, took the backpack off my shoulder, and swung it onto his own. Then he threw a long arm around my neck, dragging me into a rough headlock. His voice was still tinged with annoyance. “You get into a fight with someone and suddenly you don’t want your brother anymore, is that it? “I don’t even know that girl. You made up that whole thing about me liking her out of nowhere.” My heart sank slightly. I was terrified that the Evan of this timeline would repeat his past mistakes, but I had forgotten he naturally kept people at arm’s length. I probed hesitantly, “So when you saw her, what did you think of her?” Evan looked even more exasperated but answered honestly: “Just a very average girl.” His expression was open. He wasn’t lying. Serena was definitely not “average,” but Evan had never cared much about looks. Growing up, he had rejected countless girls, many of them gorgeous. If he said she was average, it meant Serena hadn’t left any impression on him yet. In my past life, it was only after being bombarded by her constant sugar-coated affection that he developed feelings—and it was me who let the wolf into the house to begin with. Hearing his answer, I let out a sigh of relief. My whole body relaxed. I linked my arm through his and started skipping down the stairs—just like we did when we were little. Evan dropped his annoyance and laughed, calling me a child. However, mid-skip, I accidentally bumped into someone. Damon was holding a basketball with one hand, slightly sweaty, apparently just done with practice. He stared blankly at Evan, then glanced at my hand linked through Evan’s arm. He gave a half-smile. “Playing house?” I instinctively tried to step in front of Evan, but he pulled me behind him. Evan smiled, looking completely normal, and said, “My bad, man.” He tried to pull me past him. But Damon stuck his arm out, blocking us. His tone was icy: “Aren’t you going to apologize?” On the back of his hand was a glaring, fresh cut—the one I had given him that morning. Evan frowned, just about to speak, but I laughed first and said sweetly: “I’m so sorry, Damon.” Damon froze, seemingly incapable of imagining me being so submissive. A flash of mockery crossed my eyes. I reached out, grabbed his hand, gently stroked the wound, and then dug my fingernails deep into his flesh. The slightly scabbed wound tore open instantly, bleeding again. Damon’s face twisted in pain. He tried to rip his hand away, but I gripped it tighter. Does it hurt? It was merely a fraction of what my brother felt. “Fuck!” Just as Damon dropped the basketball and raised his other hand, I let go. I lowered my eyes, matching his gaze. My eyes were venomous as I whispered: “You should watch where you’re walking, Damon. You wouldn’t want me to bump into you again.” 6 Perhaps because I made zero effort to hide my hostility, Damon’s eyes held more shock and confusion than anger. He clearly couldn’t understand why a quiet nerd who had barely spoken two words to him in two years harbored such overwhelming hatred toward him. I stopped looking at him and let Evan pull me away. The movements were subtle; Evan didn’t notice the exchange. He just turned his head and complained: “Why are you calling everyone by their first name like you’re close to them?” I hummed a tune, in a great mood, and didn’t answer. Walking out of the school gates and approaching an alley near campus, I clearly heard strange noises coming from the shadows. Crying, cursing, and the sharp crack of a slap. I frowned. Something wasn’t right. Evan exchanged a look with me, told me to stay put, and walked into the alley alone. As if I would listen. I followed right behind him. The alley was long and narrow, backing up to a set of dilapidated, abandoned apartments. The closer we got, the louder the laughter and crying became. Finally, in the courtyard of an unfinished building, I saw Serena squatting on the ground sobbing, surrounded by a group of girls. Serena’s hair was a mess, her face stained with tears. The leader, a girl with dyed streaks, poured a can of soda over her head. The liquid dripped down her hair, soaking through her modified, tight-fitting uniform shirt, highlighting her figure. The girls crouched in front of her, lightly slapping her face and laughing loudly. “What are you doing?!” Evan couldn’t just walk away. He grabbed a piece of rusty rebar from the ground and said calmly: “I already called the cops. They’re on their way.” Serena looked like she had seen her savior. She stumbled forward, throwing herself into Evan’s arms, gripping his waist tightly. She buried her face in his chest, sobbing and trembling like a frightened rabbit. The bullies’ arrogance vanished. They looked panicked, constantly checking the entrance, seemingly genuinely afraid the police would arrive. Finally, the leader pointed at Serena and barked, “You got lucky this time. Don’t let me catch you again.” With that, she and her followers hurried away. I stood behind Evan, watching this “bullying” with a blank expression. I stared quietly at the leader as she brushed past me. I flashed her a grin and whispered: “Long time no see.” The leader gave me a bewildered look, didn’t say a word, and hurried off. Of course I hadn’t forgotten her. This was Roxy. The very same girl who, in the neon bar, stood next to Serena, listening to her brag about her “player strategies,” and laughed the loudest. Evan looked stiffly at Serena in his arms. He awkwardly patted her back, saying gently, “It’s okay, don’t be scared. They’re gone.” Serena looked up. Even soaked in tears, her face was perfectly beautiful. There was no red slap mark, not even a trace of swelling. She looked at him with pitiful eyes. “Could you take me to the hospital?” Evan hesitated. He looked back at me. I gave a radiant smile. “Why go to the hospital? Let’s just go straight to our house, it’s right nearby. I’ll check you for injuries.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “434844”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My boyfriend, who was working late, suddenly sent me a text: “I have a girlfriend. Please delete my number. Thanks.” I slowly typed a question mark and hit send, only to be met with the dreaded “Message Not Delivered” notification. My boyfriend has a girlfriend. Then… who am I? 1 Wyatt had been working a lot of overtime lately. I felt bad for how busy he was, and a bit sad that we were spending less time together. I had just packed up some hot soup made by my housekeeper, Mrs. Gomez, and was getting ready to head to his office when I received a text from Wyatt: “I have a girlfriend. Please delete my number. Thanks.” At first glance, I found the message almost funny. This dog of a boyfriend actually had some solid boundaries. But… why did he send it to me? I slowly typed a question mark and sent it, only to realize… Oh, I see. I’m the one who got blocked. My boyfriend is in a relationship. He has a girlfriend. And I… got blocked. As someone with a notoriously fiery temper, I didn’t even pause to think before I dialed his number. But before I could even open my mouth to demand an explanation, a sickeningly sweet female voice answered the phone: “Who is this?” So there really was a woman next to him? To be honest, I almost couldn’t believe my ears. Wyatt had always been incredibly strict about his boundaries. He never let any woman besides me get close to him. He even kept his distance from his male friends. Yet today, he let a woman answer his phone. “Where’s Wyatt? Put him on,” I said coldly, my brow furrowing. The woman on the other end let out a soft, disdainful laugh. “Looking for Wyatt? He’s busy right now. He doesn’t have time.” “Put him on the phone,” I raised my voice, practically yelling into the receiver. “Miss, I suggest you have some self-respect. Wyatt already has a girlfriend. Clinging to him like this just makes you look cheap, you know?” With that, she hung up with a giggle. If I was just annoyed a second ago, now I was absolutely furious. I grabbed my keys and drove straight to Wyatt’s company. If this dog dared to cheat on me, he’d better be ready to pay the price. It was past nine o’clock at night. The entire office building was dark, except for the lights on the top floor. There was no one downstairs except a security guard. He looked surprised to see me. “Ms. Jensen? Are you here to pick up Mr. Brooks?” I didn’t answer. I walked straight into the elevator and hit the button for the top floor. The building was dead silent, but as soon as the elevator doors opened, I could clearly hear voices. I stormed toward Wyatt’s office, the accusations burning on my tongue ready to explode. But when I pushed the door open, I saw that the room was packed with people. It looked like they were in the middle of a serious discussion. At that moment, dozens of eyes turned to stare at me in shock. Being stared at by so many people, I instinctively swallowed hard. But my eyes zeroed in perfectly on a woman sitting in the corner, looking completely out of place. She had a men’s blazer draped over her shoulders, and she was looking at me with a smirk. “Audrey, why are you here?” Surprised to see me, Wyatt immediately stood up from his chair and walked toward me. Probably sensing my foul mood, he nervously quickened his pace, but he was a second too late. The woman in the corner suddenly jumped up and intercepted me before he could reach me. She practically used her body to wedge herself between us. “Miss, we are in the middle of a meeting. I’m going to have to ask you not to interrupt.” She smiled and gestured toward the door, clearly trying to kick me out. I gave her an ice-cold look and completely ignored her. Instead, I looked past her to Wyatt. “Should I wait outside? Wyatt.” “Of course not.” Wyatt dodged the woman with extreme agility, slipping past her to reach my side. He tried to grab my hand, but I pulled away. He was clearly panicked by my dodge and asked cautiously, “Audrey, what’s wrong?” “Nothing. Finish your meeting,” I said coldly. Wyatt glanced back at the room full of executives, then gently tried to pull me further inside so I could sit next to him. As we walked past the woman, he completely ignored her existence. “Wyatt, who is this woman? We’re having a company meeting right now, isn’t it inappropriate for her to be here?” Being ignored, the woman’s face twisted slightly. She forced an awkward smile and stepped forward to block me again. Wyatt stopped and frowned at her, looking as if he had only just noticed she was in the room. “Mia? Why are you still here?” “Wyatt, I… I was keeping you company for your meeting,” Mia stammered, her expression stiffening in embarrassment. “Why would you keep me company for a meeting? Even the Executive Assistant doesn’t need to be at tonight’s strategy session. What is an assistant to the EA doing here?” Wyatt’s tone was irritated, and he clearly wasn’t faking it. So this woman had been sitting in his office the whole time, and Wyatt genuinely hadn’t noticed? The other executives in the room seemed equally surprised, staring at the girl named Mia. “Wyatt, I… I was scared to be out there all alone. This is the only office with people in it on the whole floor, so… so I waited in here for you.” Mia’s eyes fluttered, and she looked up at Wyatt with big, teary, puppy-dog eyes. From Wyatt’s tone, this woman was basically an entry-level assistant, yet she casually called him “Wyatt” and claimed she was “waiting for him.” It was obvious there was something going on here. I crossed my arms and shot Wyatt a frosty glare. Feeling my eyes on him, Wyatt instantly stood up straighter. “Audrey, I have absolutely nothing to do with her. My dad made me give her a job, that’s the only reason she’s here.” He then turned back to Mia, his voice dropping to freezing temperatures. “Mia, you told me you had nothing to do after work today, so you volunteered to cover for the Executive Assistant. That’s why you stayed behind. Since you’re here, do your job. Stop loitering in places you don’t belong.” His voice was cold, laced with impatience. He waved his hand dismissively, gesturing for her to get out. The harsh words drained all the color from Mia’s face. She turned and practically ran out of the office. “I really didn’t notice she was in here during the meeting,” Wyatt explained while pulling me to sit down next to him. I nodded, signaling him to continue the meeting. Nobody in the company showed the slightest discomfort at my presence. When the meeting finally ended and everyone filed out, I pulled out my phone and slammed the text thread onto the desk in front of Wyatt. “Explain this.” By now, I wasn’t actually that mad, but I maintained my icy tone. Wyatt looked at the screen, his pupils shrinking. He reached out and grabbed my shoulders. “Audrey, wait right here. I’m going to give you a proper explanation.” With that, he stormed out of the office. I immediately followed him and watched as he zeroed in on Mia at lightning speed. He stood in front of her and held out his hand. “Give me my phone.” 2 Mia was visibly stung by his furious expression. She swayed slightly before pulling Wyatt’s phone from her pocket, handing it over with both hands. Her eyes were pitiful, yet laced with a sickly sweet, suggestive longing. Wyatt snatched the phone from her hands with lightning speed, opened his blocked contacts list, and his face turned black as thunder. This was the first time I had ever seen him look like this. Confused, I stepped closer to take a look. Good lord. His blocklist didn’t just have me on it; there were several other female accounts. Looking closely, they were all female CEOs or project managers from partner companies. “What gave you the right to touch my phone? I left it charging on my desk.” Wyatt was furious, and he didn’t even try to control his volume. Several department heads who were packing up to leave popped their heads out to see what was going on. Mia visibly flinched at his booming voice, her expression growing even more pathetic. “Wyatt, I… I just wanted to help you.” “Help me? You’re trying to bankrupt me!” Wyatt was raging. Looking at the people on the blocklist, his hands were practically shaking with anger. I knew how hard he had worked to get to where he was, building his company from the ground up. And in one fell swoop, she had blocked several major executives and key stakeholders. Just as I was about to step forward to calm him down, my phone started buzzing. Without exception, it was from friends who had my number, asking me what was going on and why they had suddenly been blocked by Wyatt. Even though these business contacts were polite, I knew they were demanding an explanation. I shot Mia a vicious glare, and then said to Wyatt, though still a bit annoyed: “Fix this right now.” I stepped aside to start replying to messages. Thankfully, because of my father’s reputation in the industry, they didn’t take it too personally. Plus, Wyatt’s competence and the company’s solid reputation spoke for themselves. Once they heard his phone had been tampered with, they were all understanding. Especially when they heard I had been blocked too. A few people even hesitated before warning me to keep an eye on his relationship with that assistant. After smoothing things over with everyone, my expression darkened. Even though Wyatt had firmly taken my side today, this still demanded a serious explanation. I took a few deep breaths, forced down the anger bubbling in my chest, and walked back into the main lobby. To my surprise, there were two police officers standing in the middle of the lobby. Wyatt was frowning, speaking to them furiously. Meanwhile, Mia was trembling, staring at Wyatt in utter disbelief. “Wyatt, you… you called the cops on me?” Her voice shook. Seeing that Wyatt had no intention of acknowledging her, she turned to the officers. She practically lunged forward and grabbed one of the officer’s arms. “Officer, we’re friends! I was just playing a prank! We’re really close, you can’t arrest me.” The officer stepped back in alarm, giving Mia a complicated look. “Ma’am, this isn’t something that goes away just because you say it’s a prank. You used this gentleman’s phone without permission and caused substantial damage…” the officer explained patiently. “We are not friends. There is no ‘prank’ here. She is just an employee,” Wyatt snapped irritably. “Officers, please investigate this thoroughly. I suspect she came to my company specifically to sabotage it.” Hearing this, Mia’s face went as white as a sheet. She bit her lower lip, looking at Wyatt with tearful, desperate eyes. When she realized Wyatt was completely ignoring her and instead walking over to ask me about the client situation, she finally broke. “Wyatt, I… I just thought that since you’re so successful now, and you have a girlfriend, you should keep your distance from the women on your phone. I was just trying to help you!” A single, crystal-clear tear perfectly rolled down Mia’s cheek. Just one tear. It didn’t make her look messy; it just made her look incredibly vulnerable and heartbroken. Unfortunately for her, Wyatt was too furious to appreciate her theatrical performance. He exploded: “What does my contact list have to do with you?! You even blocked my girlfriend first! Are you trying to ‘help me keep my distance’ or are you trying to make me die alone?!” Still not satisfied, he pointed to a profile picture on his blocklist. “This is CEO Gallagher. She’s the exact same age as my mother! You think I need help keeping my distance from her too?!” “I am your boss. You do what I tell you to do, and you don’t touch what isn’t yours. That’s the rule. Do you lack even the most basic professional decency?” He turned to the police. “Officers, I have a lot of trade secrets on my phone. She’s a brand-new employee who stole my phone. She poses a massive threat to my company’s assets. I want a full investigation.” I stood there, absolutely stunned. I came here expecting to catch a cheating boyfriend, only to witness a delusional pick-me girl getting completely dismantled. 3 I definitely didn’t expect Wyatt to actually call the cops. But it did make me feel a lot better about their relationship. Maybe it was because I had walked back to Wyatt’s side, which triggered the woman. She broke free from the officer’s grasp, rushed right up to us, and pointed a finger at my nose, demanding: “What about her?! Why is she allowed in your office?! Why do you draw boundaries with me because you have a girlfriend, but you protect her at every turn?!” “Is your brain completely broken?” Wyatt said, exasperated. “Can’t you tell she IS my girlfriend? Don’t you recognize the word ‘Wife’ on her contact info? Stop playing your pathetic little mind games.” Mia shrank back behind the police officers, having been yelled into submission. She finally looked genuinely terrified. The officers now understood what was going on. But the fact remained that Mia’s actions had caused financial damage to Wyatt. They asked if there was a chance they could settle this privately. Wyatt adamantly refused. “Absolutely not. Sending a message like that to my girlfriend? Are you trying to make me single forever? I won’t tolerate it.” Because Wyatt refused to settle, Mia was taken away. Before leaving, she tugged pitifully at the oversized blazer draped over her shoulders and stood in front of Wyatt. “Wyatt, I’m cold. Can I borrow this jacket to wear outside?” Wyatt glanced at the jacket and said flatly, “That’s not mine.” At that moment, the CFO, who had been watching the drama from the sidelines, leaped out of his office. “Mine! It’s mine! I tossed it on the chair next to the CEO earlier and didn’t realize you took the wrong one. You should probably give it back. I’m cold too.” Mia’s face completely froze. She angrily ripped the jacket off, threw it into the CFO’s arms, and glared at me with pure hatred before leaving with the police. Watching the venomous glare she shot me as she left, I couldn’t help but find it hilarious. What was this? A manipulative mean girl tries to provoke me, and ends up getting herself arrested? Later, Wyatt explained everything. Mia was the daughter of their old neighbors. Her family had moved up north a decade ago and had only recently moved back. As soon as they returned, they visited his parents. Since the two families used to be close, they reconnected. Hearing that Mia was looking for a job, Wyatt’s dad asked him to arrange a position for her at his company. Wyatt had practically forgotten she even existed. Who knew she would pull a stunt like this on her first day? 4 I rolled my eyes and muttered, “What is this, some cheap ‘childhood sweethearts’ trope?” Hearing this, Wyatt literally gagged right in front of me. “I don’t have that kind of childhood sweetheart! Ever since we were kids, whenever she messed up, she’d act pitiful and throw the blame on me. Then she’d cry and say ‘It’s all my fault’.” Wyatt shuddered as he mimicked Mia, looking as if he was trying to shake off a layer of goosebumps. “Anyway, I never want to be associated with her in this lifetime. If it weren’t for my dad asking me for a favor, I never would have let her set foot in my company.” I heard that even though she was taken to the station, Mia wasn’t actually charged. She cried and complained to Wyatt’s father, and after getting a severe scolding from his dad, Wyatt finally agreed to settle privately. She walked out of the police station that same night. I thought that since Wyatt had been so ruthless this time, she would take the hint and back off. After all, her little stunts were embarrassingly stupid to watch. But surprisingly, a few days later, she added me on iMessage. And the friend request said she got my contact card from Wyatt. Once I accepted, she immediately sent me a photo. It was a picture of a large, lavish dining table with quite a few people seated around it. I could easily recognize Wyatt and his parents. Wyatt was sitting next to the person taking the photo, smiling and putting food on their plate. He looked gentle and attentive. “Audrey, you don’t really think Wyatt loves you, do you? The one he’s always loved is me. Today, our families are officially meeting to discuss our wedding date.” Having experienced the last incident, I didn’t believe a word this woman said. If I rushed over to confront him like last time, and Wyatt had just called the cops on her again, it would eventually cause a rift between us. So when I saw the photo, I didn’t feel the same anger as before. I simply dialed Wyatt’s number. It took him a while to answer. He probably had to find a quiet place first. “Audrey, what’s up?” His tone was cheerful. He seemed to be in a good mood. “Where are you?” Wyatt paused for a second. Because we trusted each other, I rarely interrogated him like this. “I’m at The Grand Brasserie having dinner with my parents.” “Is Mia there too?” “Yeah, both families are having dinner together today.” Wyatt’s answer was perfectly natural. He didn’t sound guilty at all. I was silent for a moment, then said, “Check your messages.” I sent him the photo Mia sent me, along with screenshots of her texts. “Is she insane? She’s not even sitting next to me. My niece is sitting next to me.” Wyatt was visibly pissed. He told me to hang on for a second, and shortly after, he sent me a screenshot. It was a screenshot from his little niece’s Snapchat story. The two photos were identical; they were both taken by his niece. “Audrey, you should come over too. We need to clear this up once and for all tonight. This Mia girl is a psycho.” I was hesitant. “Your families are having a reunion dinner. Would it be inappropriate for me to show up?” “Why would it be inappropriate? My parents love you. Besides, if we don’t clear this up face-to-face tonight, Mia is going to keep harassing us and ruining our relationship.” He was clearly panicking by the end, and he said firmly: “No, you have to come. I’m sending a driver to pick you up.” 5 Figuring that Wyatt wanted to settle things once and for all, I changed my clothes and headed out. The restaurant wasn’t far; I got there in twenty minutes. When I arrived, I saw Wyatt waiting for me at the entrance. Seeing his annoyed expression, I hurried over and patted his shoulder to comfort him. But he just looked at me with puppy-dog eyes. “Thank God you actually asked me about it. If you were like the female leads in those romance novels and just walked away in silence, what would I have done?” I rubbed my temples. This was partly my fault. When we first started dating, I was so paranoid about him not being able to spot manipulative “pick-me” girls that I made him read a bunch of BookTok romance tropes. It turns out, he still couldn’t spot a pick-me girl, but his brain was now permanently hardwired to make sure I never felt misunderstood so I wouldn’t run away. With a hug and some reassurance, Wyatt led me into their private dining room. When we walked in, everyone was laughing and chatting. Mr. and Mrs. Brooks looked genuinely happy to see me. They immediately asked the waiter to add a chair for me. “Audrey, come here, sit next to me.” Mrs. Brooks warmly had the waiter place a chair right beside her, which was also right next to Wyatt. And sitting on the other side of Wyatt was indeed a little girl, no older than ten. Sitting next to the little girl was Mia. Seeing me walk in, Mia froze, her face instantly turning sour. “Wyatt, who is this? Why did you bring an outsider to our family dinner?” The older woman sitting next to Mia, who looked like her mother, spoke up with a passive-aggressive tone the moment she saw me sit down. Hearing this, Mr. and Mrs. Brooks’ expressions shifted. Mrs. Brooks gently patted my hand to reassure me. Then she smiled and said, “She’s not an outsider. This is my daughter-in-law, Audrey Jensen.” “Oh, so it’s Wyatt’s girlfriend.” The woman let out an awkward laugh and continued, “You run a pretty tight ship, little lady. Wyatt can’t even have dinner with his parents without you chasing after him.” That one sentence painted me as a controlling, unreasonable girlfriend. Normally, as a younger generation, I should be respectful to my elders. But this elder didn’t deserve an ounce of my respect. “Mrs. Lawson. You must be mistaken. Didn’t your daughter say you were all gathered here today to discuss my boyfriend’s wedding to her? I didn’t want my boyfriend to be taken advantage of, so I came to check it out.” I smiled brilliantly, even raising an eyebrow provocatively at Mia. When I came in, Wyatt told me: If they give you attitude, fire right back. Do not let them walk all over you. Hearing my words, both Mr. and Mrs. Brooks looked at Mia in shock. “What wedding discussion?” Hearing me expose her out loud, Mia clearly panicked. She knocked over her water glass. “W-What wedding… I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Even though she claimed she didn’t know, her nervous stuttering made her guilt painfully obvious. Mrs. Brooks’ face darkened. “Mia, Wyatt and Audrey will handle their own wedding. You don’t need to worry about it.” “Mrs. Brooks, I… I really don’t know what Ms. Jensen is talking about.” Mia stood up anxiously to defend herself. But her panic instantly morphed into a victimized whimper. She lowered her head, her voice trembling uncontrollably: “Mrs. Brooks, I know my good intentions caused a misunderstanding last time, and Ms. Jensen has a prejudice against me. But… but she doesn’t have to slander me like this.” She even threw in two theatrical sobs for good measure. “Exactly! Didn’t we already clear up what happened last time? It was just a misunderstanding. Our Mia was just worried that Wyatt is too clueless and wouldn’t know how to keep his distance from other women, and she didn’t want his girlfriend to get mad. That’s why she did what she did.” Mia’s mother immediately stepped in, pulling Mia into her arms, and shot me a vicious glare. “Ms. Jensen, it’s one thing that you showed up uninvited, but targeting our Mia like this? What’s your problem? Mia and Wyatt grew up together. If she really wanted to steal him from you, do you honestly think you’d stand a chance?” 6 I was speechless. I always knew Mia’s mother wasn’t exactly rational, but I didn’t expect her to say something so blatant. But the person who reacted the strongest was Wyatt. He practically leaped out of his chair, stepping directly in front of me: “Mrs. Lawson, Audrey is not uninvited. She is my girlfriend, and I asked her to come. As for Mia and me, there has never been anything between us. I have never liked her, and my relationship with my girlfriend has absolutely nothing to do with her.” He wasn’t leaving them an ounce of dignity. The faces of the entire Lawson family darkened instantly. Mia looked up from her mother’s embrace at Wyatt. That single glance was a masterclass in manipulation—hurt, enduring, and tragic. She looked exactly like a poor, helpless girl abandoned by a toxic ex. The atmosphere in the private room became even more awkward. “What is all this? Why are we arguing during a nice family dinner?” Mia’s father quickly stood up, pressing his wife and daughter back into their seats. Then he said, “Since we’re all here, let’s just have a good time. There’s no need to make things unpleasant, right?” He raised his glass to toast Mr. Brooks. Mr. Brooks hadn’t said a word, but his expression made it clear he was not happy. Still, he raised his glass and clinked it with Mr. Lawson’s. Since things had reached this point, Wyatt and I didn’t plan on saying anything more. Wyatt had already made himself perfectly clear anyway. Who knew that while we were ready to drop it, the other side had no such intention. Because of what just happened, the rest of the dinner was incredibly awkward. The only person truly enjoying their meal was Wyatt’s little niece. Unexpectedly, just as the tension was starting to ease, Mia’s mother suddenly laughed: “Time really flies, doesn’t it? Wyatt and Mia are all grown up now. I still remember how they used to play together when they were little.” Talking about the kids’ childhoods softened Mr. and Mrs. Brooks’ expressions a bit, and they couldn’t help but sigh at how fast time had passed. But then the woman dropped her next line: “I remember, back then, they even promised to marry each other. Wyatt used to say that when he grew up, he wanted to marry Mia and protect her forever.” After saying that, she acted as if she had suddenly realized she misspoke, turning to me and saying, “Ms. Jensen, please don’t mind me. I was just reminiscing about when the kids were little. We all know arranged childhood marriages aren’t a thing anymore. It won’t affect your relationship.” I couldn’t help but sneer. Saying it won’t affect us, yet intentionally bringing up an “arranged marriage” in every other sentence. Wyatt was instantly furious: “Mrs. Lawson, your memory is failing you. I never said I would marry her. You were the one who kept saying ‘boys should protect girls’ and forced me to protect her.” Wyatt sounded genuinely aggrieved as he continued: “Because of that, all the good snacks my parents bought for me when I was little ended up being given to Mia by you.” I almost laughed out loud, while the smile on Mia’s mother’s face completely froze. It took her a long time to recover. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, Wyatt’s mother interjected: “Childhood promises… yes, there was talk of that.” Hearing this, Wyatt turned to his mother in disbelief, gasping, “Mom, what are you talking about?” Mrs. Brooks ignored him, continuing with a smile: “But back then, it was your family constantly saying how compatible the two kids were and suggesting a promise ring. We never agreed to it.” Wyatt nodded frantically and turned to me. “Audrey, I told you, I have absolutely nothing to do with her.” Tears streamed down Mia’s face. She looked at Mrs. Brooks: “Mrs. Brooks, do you not like me anymore? You used to say you liked me a lot, and that you’d love to have me as a daughter-in-law.” Just a minute ago, they were claiming it wouldn’t affect my relationship with Wyatt, and now she was openly talking about being their daughter-in-law. This woman really was… shameless. Mrs. Brooks kept smiling. She picked up her water glass, took a sip, then pulled my hand into hers and said: “I did say that. But that was just my wish. It doesn’t mean Wyatt agreed to it. Now, the person Wyatt recognizes is Audrey, so my daughter-in-law is Audrey.” Those words hit the Lawson family like a slap across the face. Mia’s parents looked indignant and were about to argue further, but Mr. Brooks finally spoke up: “Frank, Martha. The kids’ feelings are not something we parents should interfere with. Wyatt and Audrey are great together, and we are very fond of Audrey.” He then glanced at Mia: “We watched Mia grow up too. She’s a great girl, but she’s just not right for Wyatt. I’m sure we can introduce her to someone much better in the future.” With that, he raised his glass and downed it right in front of Mia’s father. Mia’s father had no choice but to nod in agreement and drink his glass as well. It was obvious he didn’t dare offend Wyatt’s father. Even Mia’s mother didn’t dare push the issue further, sitting obediently in her seat and forcing a smile. But Mia stared intently at Wyatt with her big, watery eyes, demanding: “Wyatt, do you really not like me? I don’t believe you.” Wyatt was flabbergasted: “I just don’t like you! What’s so hard to believe?” “If you don’t like me, why did you always help me when we were kids? When the chubby kid next door bullied me, you helped me beat him up.” “That’s because if I didn’t help you, you’d go home crying to your mom that I just watched you get bullied at school. Then your mom would complain to my mom, and my mom would lecture me. You have no idea how hard that chubby kid hit. I didn’t want to fight him at all!” Wyatt raged. Mia clearly hadn’t expected this answer. She looked at Wyatt in shock but refused to give up: “Then… then in middle school, when a boy wrote me a love letter, why did you beat him up too?” I looked at Wyatt in surprise. Wyatt quickly grabbed my hand and explained frantically: “That was because you rejected the guy by telling him you liked me! The guy came looking for a fight with me! I never wanted to fight him! He broke one of my ribs!” This… Honestly, I felt embarrassed for Mia. But Mia still wouldn’t let it go: “Then… then this time, when I came back, why did you immediately give me a job at your company without a second thought? You even made me your assistant. I heard I’m the only assistant who was ever fast-tracked into your company.” Wyatt rubbed his forehead: “That’s because you told my dad you couldn’t find a good job, and my dad asked me to do him a favor and put you in my company. And you weren’t my assistant! You were the assistant to the Executive Assistant! It was a completely made-up, idle role because I specifically didn’t want you interfering with my work! And yet, you still managed to almost lose me several major clients!” The more he spoke, the angrier he got, finally shouting: “Mia, can you please just get out of my life?!” In the end, Mia covered her face and ran out of the room crying. After the dinner, I looked at Mr. and Mrs. Brooks awkwardly and apologized: “Mr. Brooks, Mrs. Brooks, I’m so sorry. I ruined your dinner party.”

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On the day the bandages were removed from my eyes, I didn’t see him. Instead, I received a message from his childhood best friend: “You might have saved Sebastian’s life, but don’t think you can use that to guilt-trip him. He’s too busy to pick you up. Find your own way home.” I called him. The phone rang once before he hung up on me. When I finally saw him three days later, he didn’t ask how I was. He demanded to know why I was “spreading lies” to ruin his best friend’s reputation. I looked at the golden aura above his head—the literal manifestation of his luck and destiny. It was flickering and fading fast. Suddenly, accepting that I was the tragic female lead in a “heartbreak novel” didn’t seem so hard after all. 01 The day I realized I was the protagonist of a tragic romance novel, I was in a hospital bed having my bandages removed. The moment the gauze fell away, a flood of information surged into my mind like a tidal wave. I saw my future: I was a mobile blood bank and organ farm for his “Golden Girl” first love. I was the designated scapegoat for his manipulative childhood friend. My entire family was destined to die because of him. Eventually, I would take my own life, and only then would he realize he loved me, holding my ashes in a state of eternal, pathetic regret. I sat there, frozen, unable to process it for a long time. One thing kept bothering me. If I was already dead in the end, what was the point of his regret? Did he think his tears were a legal pardon? The young nurse thought I was just devastated that Sebastian Reed hadn’t shown up. She tried to cover for him, her voice small and hesitant. “Mr. Reed should be here soon. He said he was coming today. He always keeps his word.” I looked at her young, fresh face. Her concern was genuine. I forced a smile. “It’s okay. I’ll wait.” But seconds later, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Seraphina Miller: “You might have saved Sebastian’s life, but don’t think you can use that to guilt-trip him. He’s too busy to pick you up. Find your own way home.” Seraphina was the “childhood sweetheart” trope. In the original plot, half of the torment Sebastian put me through was her doing. She knew she couldn’t compete with Sebastian’s “Golden Girl,” so she stepped back. But she couldn’t stand a “nobody” like me being the one to actually date him. She spent every waking hour trying to make me miserable so I would quit. She was an expert at picking on the weak. I waited for an hour, then dialed Sebastian’s number. He declined the call instantly. The nurse looked at me with a pity she tried hard to hide. I felt bad for her. Honestly, everyone could see how badly Sebastian treated me. I was the person who had literally saved his life. He had put me in the best hospital and hired the best staff. He did everything except actually show up. That isn’t how you treat a savior. That’s how you maintain a piece of equipment. I checked myself out of the hospital. The nurse hovered around me, treating me like I was made of glass. I took an Uber back to Sebastian’s estate, packed my essentials in ten minutes, and left. By the time the sun set, I had rented a small, clean apartment across town. I needed to sit down and think. Why would a rational, educated woman like me ever allow someone to harvest her organs and ruin her life for “love”? 02 I realized it was the “Sunk Cost Fallacy.” I had invested so much time, emotion, and literal blood into Sebastian that I had let him push my boundaries back inch by inch. Leaving felt impossible because I kept waiting for a return on my investment. Originally, I couldn’t accept that he had a “Golden Girl” tucked away in his heart. I fought him. I screamed. But every time I tried to leave, something would go wrong—a family crisis, a freak accident—and Sebastian would “casually” save me. I felt obligated to stay. And Seraphina? Her provocations weren’t new. He just called her “spirited” or “immature.” He expected me to be the bigger person. He expected me to be a saint. Everyone was the same age, yet I was the only one denied the right to have feelings. His double standards had always been there; I just chose to be blind to them. Not anymore. I sent a text to Sebastian: “We’re over. Don’t contact me.” Three years of devotion, ended in six words. Then, I texted Seraphina: “There was once a fox who couldn’t reach the grapes, so he called them sour. Then someone else got the grapes, and the fox turned into a rabid dog. Well, I’ve tasted them. They are sour. I’ve thrown them in the dirt. You can have them now.” Three days later, Sebastian found me. He was outside my door, his voice cold and commanding. “Open the door, Quinn. I know you’re in there.” He was always efficient. I wasn’t surprised he found me so fast. I opened the door. He stood in the hallway, I stood in the frame. We stared at each other. Sebastian was a beautiful man. He had eyes that looked like they were made for poetry. Even standing in a dingy hallway, he looked like a masterpiece. Some people are just born with a narrative. He brushed past me, sat on my small sofa, and said coldly, “Why did you send that message to Seraphina? Go and apologize to her.” I leaned against the doorframe, watching him. I saw it clearly then. The moment those words left his mouth, a wave of tangible malice radiated from him toward me. But as it hit me, it bounced back. It slammed into him, and I watched the shimmering purple aura around him—his “Main Character Energy”—shatter and bleed away. Did his cruelty toward me actually damage his own destiny? I stayed silent for too long. Sebastian lost his patience. His eyes were dark with suppressed rage. “Quinn Avery, are you even listening to me?” I blinked. “What year is it, Sebastian?” He looked confused for a second, then sneered. “What kind of game is this now?” That word—”now.” It showed how little he trusted me. He was so certain I was just playing a trick to get attention. I lost all interest in talking to him. “It’s 2023,” I said calmly. “The 1950s are over. We are broken up. I owe you nothing, and I certainly don’t owe that girl an apology. She isn’t worth my time. Please leave.” Sebastian’s confident mask slipped. He looked at me as if seeing a stranger. “Is this because I didn’t pick you up from the hospital? Are you really throwing a tantrum over that?” I pointed at the door. I didn’t say a word. Sebastian had too much pride to beg. He stood up, his face turning into a mask of ice. “You have one hour to apologize to Seraphina. I’m giving you one last chance.” He talked tough, but his aura was leaking like a punctured tire. I slammed the door, locking him out. I thought that because I knew my “destiny,” I wouldn’t be sad. I was wrong. My heart still ached with every breath. An hour later, my phone rang. It was him. I turned the phone off and slept for fourteen hours. The next morning, I was flooded with notifications. The most urgent was an email from HR at Sebastian’s firm, where I worked as a lead designer. “Ms. Avery, your recent medical leave has caused significant delays. The company has filled your position. Please come in to sign your voluntary resignation papers.” I had saved Sebastian’s life, and this was his thanks? He was too cheap to even fire me properly; he wanted me to quit so he didn’t have to pay severance. I replied: “Is the company firing me?” HR: “The position is no longer a fit. We suggest you resign voluntarily.” Me: “My recent designs just won a national award for this firm. If you want me gone, send an official termination notice. Otherwise, I will show up for my shift. If you attempt to withhold my legal compensation, I will file a complaint with the Labor Board.” The reply was a long string of dots, followed by: “You offended the wrong person. Don’t make this hard on us. You and Mr. Reed are close—why don’t you just talk to him?” I stared at the screen. This was his plan. Force me into a corner so I’d crawl back to him. But things bought with “pity” are never as strong as things protected by the law. If the Billionaire CEO wanted to be a legal illiterate, I was happy to give him a crash course. I went to the office. The receptionist’s jaw dropped. She scrambled for the phone to report my arrival. My desk was covered in junk—random boxes and old files piled high, clearly moved there that morning. I saw a couple of interns whispering and ducking away when I looked at them. I took a photo of the desk, then began swiping the junk onto the floor, piece by piece. I was about to log into my computer when a hand stopped me. “Quinn, you don’t work here anymore. You shouldn’t be touching company property.” The voice was sugary sweet, designed to trigger an immediate temper flare. I looked up. It was Seraphina. And standing right behind her was Sebastian. He stood there with his usual cold indifference, as if the world was beneath him. I remembered the book’s description of him: “Amidst the chaos of the world, he stands alone, untouched by the dust of mortality. Nothing is worthy of his heart.” I used to find that poetic. Now, experiencing it firsthand, I realized the truth: Sebastian was just a garden-variety sociopath. He wasn’t worth my life. I ignored Seraphina and looked at Sebastian. “Mr. Reed, are you firing me?” Before he could speak, Seraphina chirped, “You’ve been let go. Can’t you take a hint?” “Ms. Miller, this company belongs to the Reed family. Until you’re wearing a wedding ring, you don’t make the calls here.” Seraphina paled and looked at Sebastian for support. Sebastian looked at me, giving me one of his “tests.” 03 I knew what he wanted. He wanted me to bow. He wanted me to apologize to Seraphina. I wouldn’t open my mouth. Sebastian’s patience snapped. “Sign the resignation, Quinn,” he said, his voice like dry ice. “Resignation? No. Fire me.” I wasn’t going to let him off the hook. “Quinn Avery, have some dignity,” Seraphina hissed. “You’re being fired.” “Firing someone is an administrative action. If I violated company policy, provide the written notice and specify which clause I broke.” “You missed days of work!” “Saving the CEO’s life counts as an on-the-job injury, doesn’t it? If it does, I expect workers’ comp. If it doesn’t, Mr. Reed should be handing me a plaque and a bonus for saving his life, not trying to frame me for absenteeism.” The office went silent. Most of the staff didn’t know I was the one who had taken a hit for Sebastian. They just knew we were “involved.” In the past, I never talked about it. My parents taught me to be humble. But humility only works with good people. With predators, humility is just an invitation to eat you. You have to peel back their skin and show the world the monster underneath. Seraphina turned bright red. She tried to speak, but Sebastian cut her off. “Quinn, the company is officially terminating you. Go to HR and finish the paperwork.” He turned and walked away, his posture rigid and arrogant. Seraphina hurried after him. “Sebastian, wait for me!” I watched them go, pushing down the last ember of grief in my chest. I used to love that arrogant strength of his. But now, watching his aura fade from gold to a dull, dusty yellow… I felt nothing. He knew exactly what he was doing. He knew this would hurt me. He just wanted to see me break. He wanted to see me lose myself so he could feel in control. The book said his childhood was traumatic, leaving him with a desperate need to dominate his surroundings. So he tormented the female lead. He watched her give up everything until she died. And in the story, after she died, he lived on with the “satisfaction” of knowing she had loved him unconditionally. Tragic leads usually have a martyr complex. I didn’t. The moment those bandages came off, my “Love Brain” was discarded in the hospital trash. 04 I went to HR. The manager, a woman who lived to please Sebastian and Seraphina, pushed a “Voluntary Resignation” form toward me. Resignation means I get nothing. Termination means the company owes me severance, unused vacation days, and overtime pay. The difference was about fifty thousand dollars. I flicked the paper back at her. “I’ve changed my mind. I like working here. I think I’ll stay.” I stood up to leave. She panicked. “Quinn, what are you doing?” “Heh.” I walked back to my desk and started backing up my portfolio and gathering evidence of my awards. The manager followed me, her voice softening. “Quinn, let’s just talk this through.” I ignored her. Sebastian sent a message on the office Slack: “?” I deleted it and blocked him. A few minutes later, the manager’s phone rang. She answered with a fawning, terrified tone. “Yes, Mr. Reed. I understand. Right away.” She hung up, glared at me, and went back into her office. When she came out, she handed me three documents: an Official Termination Notice, a Final Paycheck Calculation, and a Severance Agreement. “It’s all here. Sign it.” “I just got out of the hospital. My vision is blurry. I need to take these home and review them slowly.” The manager looked like she was about to explode. Then, her phone rang again. Her face smoothed into a sugary smile. “Miss Miller! Yes, of course. I’m working on it right now. Don’t worry.” She hung up and told me I had to finish by the end of the day. I watched her walk away. We’ll see about that. I felt like making her stay late today. I ran the numbers. She had left out my accrued vacation time—sixteen days. According to labor laws, unused vacation must be paid out at three times the daily rate upon termination. That was nearly a month’s salary right there. And the severance? She calculated it based on my base pay, not my average total compensation (including bonuses). In the book, I left without a cent because I was “too heartbroken” to care about money. I ended up living in a tiny basement, got sick, and Sebastian “rescued” me. Only to find out his Golden Girl needed blood. I was a rare Rh-negative type. So was she. I was her personal tap. And because I was the “tragic lead,” my body was magically able to survive constant blood draws while being mistreated. I wasn’t going to be anyone’s tap. I was going to be Sebastian’s legal nightmare. I waited until five minutes before the end of the day. The manager had been chewed out by both Sebastian and Seraphina at least three times by then. I pointed to the forms. “These two calculations are wrong. Redo them.” “What’s wrong with them?” “I’m off the clock now. I’ll tell you tomorrow.” “Quinn! You’re doing this on purpose!” “Yes. I am.” I smiled, grabbed my purse, and walked out. I was fired—why would I work overtime? “Quinn, please! Just help me out. You don’t want to see Mr. Reed and Miss Miller again, do you?” I stopped and looked behind her. Sebastian and Seraphina were standing there. Their cold gazes swept over me and landed on the manager. She was trembling, her previous arrogance completely gone. I laughed softly. “You’re right. I really don’t want to see them. Fine, I’ll help you.” The manager looked like she wanted to cry and kiss my feet at the same time. She fixed the numbers in record time, her hands shaking. “Ms. Avery, it’s all correct now. Please sign.” I looked it over and pushed it back again. “You forgot my overtime for today. Add it in.” The manager’s face went purple. She looked like she wanted to kill me, but she had no choice. She reprinted the forms, and I finally signed. As I finished, she hissed under her breath, “I hope I never see your face again.” “The feeling is mutual. By the way, the way you slave away to save a billionaire a few pennies… you look like a ghost guarding someone else’s gold. It’s pathetic.” 05 I walked out of the building. I had secured nearly eighty thousand dollars in the settlement. With that, I could take my time finding a new job. I wouldn’t end up dying in a basement like the book predicted. “Are you satisfied now?” Sebastian was standing in the shadows of the parking garage, smoking. The light caught his jawline. He was still a beautiful man. Even knowing the truth, my heart still gave a treacherous little flutter. But that was just biology. I looked at him and hit the button for the elevator. “Company policy says this entire floor is a smoke-free zone. That’s a two-hundred-dollar fine. Remember to pay it tomorrow. Being the CEO doesn’t mean you’re above the rules.” Sebastian froze. He crushed the cigarette out and stormed off toward his car. Over the next few weeks, I followed my doctor’s orders. Every time my stomach ached from the meds or my eyes stung from the drops, I felt a wave of regret. I should have let Sebastian get hit by that car. Health is worth more than a man. I started mapping out the timeline from the book to see where I could change my fate. Sebastian’s “Golden Girl,” Natalia Vance, was a famous prima ballerina. She was the “White Moonlight”—pure, beautiful, and kind. In the book, she was innocent. She didn’t know about the suffering Sebastian caused me. But she was the primary beneficiary. Her health was built on the slow destruction of mine. So, when the news broke that Natalia had fallen during a performance and was hospitalized, I didn’t wait. I booked a flight to Thailand. I turned my phone on after landing in Bangkok and was immediately hit by a barrage of missed calls. I answered Sebastian’s call. He was hysterical. “Where the hell are you? You have thirty minutes to get to the hospital—” I cut him off. “Who is this?” “Quinn, this isn’t a game. Natalia needs a transfusion. Stop being petty. I’ll compensate you for whatever you want later, but get here now.” “Mr. Reed, the National Blood Services Act states that donation is voluntary. Furthermore, a donor must be in good health and cannot have had major surgery in the last six months. I was discharged less than a month ago after saving your life. Do you even see me as a human being? Or just a spare part for your ballerina?” The line went silent. I hung up. Facing the tropical sun, I tried to smile. It was hard. But it felt better than bleeding out in a sterile room. I stayed in Thailand for two weeks until the news confirmed Natalia was out of danger. Then, I flew home. The trip had been expensive, so I needed a job. I sent out my resume and got several interviews. I made it to the final round for three positions, only to have the companies suddenly stop responding. I called one of the recruiters I had a good rapport with. “Ms. Avery, you’re brilliant. We wanted to hire you, but a ‘higher power’ suggested we shouldn’t. I’m telling you this off the record because your portfolio is amazing. You might want to check if you’ve upset someone powerful.” I thanked her. A few minutes later, I got a text from Seraphina: “I let you run away to Thailand because I was busy. But don’t think you can just come back and work in this city. If you’re smart, you’ll know what to do.” She wanted to starve me out. But I wasn’t going to let her. I applied to Sebastian’s biggest rival, Thorne Industries. I aced the interview. Three months later, I entered a national design competition under the Thorne banner. I won. When I stood on that stage in a designer gown, lifting the trophy, the sense of achievement was better than anything Sebastian had ever given me. Validation from yourself is much more addictive than validation from a man. At the gala following the awards, I was networking with my new boss, Harrison Thorne. We walked past Sebastian. Harrison smiled, his eyes sharp. “Sebastian, thanks for letting Quinn go. She’s the best asset I’ve acquired this year. You’re very generous.” Sebastian didn’t look at Harrison. He was staring at me. “Ms. Avery, did you forget your non-compete clause? Joining a direct rival within a year is a breach of contract. I can sue you.” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “You should thank your HR manager. She was so focused on saving you fifty grand that she never had me sign a non-compete. Why do you think I was able to leave so easily?” Harrison burst out laughing. “Eighty grand! For eighty grand you lost a national award winner! Sebastian, your staff is incredible. Quinn, I think I’ll give you a raise tomorrow.” I raised my glass to Sebastian and walked away. Harrison spent the rest of the night telling everyone the story of how Sebastian lost me over a cheap severance package. The room was filled with muffled laughter. Sebastian’s reputation as a “genius” was taking a hit. I noticed his aura was no longer yellow. It was turning a muddy, bruised red. But that wasn’t my problem. That night, as I got out of the elevator at my apartment, I saw a figure leaning against the wall. Sebastian was there, a cigarette in his hand. He looked disheveled and tired, which somehow made him look even more attractive. “Does it have to be like this?” he asked. “It shouldn’t be anything. We’re strangers. Please leave.” “You never used to be like this.” “And you used to be a human being. I guess we both changed. Goodnight, Mr. Reed.” He didn’t move. “I made a mistake!” He practically ran to the stairs, unable to even wait for the elevator, fleeing like a ghost.

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From having a brother who was a total flop, whose agency just threw him into this top-tier survival show as “recycled trash” to fill a spot. In the second round of the show, the trainees had to perform an original song. The rich kid got a Grammy-winning producer to back him up. The nepo baby got his superstar older brother to pull strings. And my brother… got me, a “plain and ordinary” music teacher. But after that round ended, our group’s original track blew up the entire internet: “This melody is too damn good! She killed it!” “What kind of school music teacher is this?! She’s a literal genius!” My brother silently raised his hand on camera: “She’s… she’s from Berklee.” 1 When I got my brother’s call, I was in the middle of revising a track for a client in LA. The demo for his new single had been revised eight times, and he still wasn’t satisfied. I was aggressively scribbling on the sheet music with one hand, and irritably answering the phone with the other: “I told you I’m swamped right now. I can’t fly back to New York. Find someone else.” I was about to hang up, but Dylan’s desperate, panicked voice blasted through the speaker: “Avery, you’re my only sister! Just help me this once. I swear, come Thanksgiving and Christmas, I’ll block every single Auntie asking why you’re still single. I’ll take all the heat!” Women know how it is. Once you reach a certain age, relatives from miles away start aggressively interrogating you about your marital status. And my family is super traditional; I have to go back for the holidays. Thinking of Aunt Margaret’s machine-gun-speed questioning, I caved. I rubbed my temples and sighed. “Send me the time and address. I’ll arrange my schedule.” Just as I hung up and finally finished the demo, Carter Vance leaned against the piano. He had heard the whole thing. He flashed his signature, charming smile: “Anaje, you’re going back to the East Coast?” I packed up the sheet music and handed it to him. “Yeah, family emergency. Gotta fly back for a bit.” I grabbed my bag and rushed out to book a red-eye flight. I was in such a hurry that I completely missed his last sentence: “Mind if I come find you?” 2 A week later, dragging my heavy suitcases to the entrance of the boot camp, I was nearly blinded by the paparazzi’s flashbulbs. That idiot Dylan forgot to mention the show was recording from the moment mentors arrived at the camp. So, while others stepped out of sleek, tinted Escalades wearing designer couture, I was standing on the curb in a hoodie, haggling with a yellow cab driver. “We agreed on 60 bucks from JFK, not a penny more!” “Lady, look at this traffic! You see how backed up it is? This trip cost me my whole morning. You gotta add a tip!” I checked my wallet. I flew back in such a rush that I barely had any cash on me, and my Venmo app was glitching. A reporter nearby couldn’t take the secondhand embarrassment anymore and handed the driver a crisp hundred-dollar bill. Even though I promised to pay him back once I got my paycheck, he still blasted me on the front page of his blog. #DylanHayesSisterIsBroke #DidDylanHireHisSisterForFamilyIncome? #DylanGroupDoomedToFailRoundTwo What can I say? Rumors stop at the wise, but Twitter isn’t exactly known for wisdom. 3 After dealing with the cabbie, I followed the PA’s directions onto the red carpet leading into the camp. The 80 trainees for this show were split into 8 groups of 10. Dylan was in Group 3. A bunch of trainees with zero backing, zero resources, and clearly no budget for a famous mentor. No wonder he begged me to save him. The mentors introduced themselves one by one on the red carpet. First up was the “superstar brother” Dylan mentioned. He debuted a decade ago and was a massive teen heartthrob: “Hey everyone, I’m Mason Reed. I’m the mentor for Liam’s team. I specialize in rap and choreography.” The fans behind the barricades went wild. The host chimed in perfectly: “Mason is being modest! We all know besides dancing and rapping, his songwriting is top-tier.” Mason waved it off. “Speaking of songwriting, we have a platinum-selling producer right here. I wouldn’t dare call myself top-tier.” A woman in a stunning Dior gown stepped up, introducing herself. Maybe it was my imagination, but this Valerie Stone seemed to be glaring at me with open hostility. Before I could overthink it, she finished, and the mic was shoved to me. “Hi, I’m Avery Hayes. I’m the mentor for Dylan’s team. I’m a music teacher, mostly focusing on music education. I also specialize in songwriting.” The moment I finished, the crowd’s vibe instantly turned weird: [Is this Avery trying to leach off Valerie’s clout?] [A music teacher who “specializes in songwriting”? Can she even read sheet music?] [The Hayes siblings’ desperation is showing.] [Ugh, my bias is in Dylan’s group. Can he transfer?!] Hearing the whispers, the host tried to save the segment: “What a coincidence! Ms. Hayes is also a songwriter. Do you have any published works we might know?” I knew he wanted me to name-drop something to appease the fans. Worried my classical or highly technical pieces wouldn’t land, I picked a recent commercial track I wrote back in the States. “Give Me Power.” The crowd got even louder, but not in a good way: [What the hell is that? Never heard of it.] [Just searched Spotify. Nothing under that name.] [Is this chick okay? Does an unreleased demo count as a masterpiece?] The host clearly agreed. He forced a laugh, said “Ms. Hayes is so funny,” and snatched the mic away before I could embarrass him further. Later I found out, the Olympic committee had changed the track’s name for the official broadcast. So when fans later saw the credits for the Winter Olympics theme song reading “Composer: Avery Hayes,” they lost their minds. [I am the clown.] [The Olympic theme song “Strength of the Nation” was originally called “Give Me Power”?!] 4 The mentors went to claim their teams. Before I even got close, Dylan grabbed me, panicking. “Guys, this is my sister! She’s an amazing songwriter—” “How amazing? The kind of amazing that has zero published songs?” A trainee with bleached blonde hair cut him off sarcastically. “Ethan, shut your mouth. If you’re not happy, go to another group.” Dylan was fiercely protective of me. Ethan had a temper. He sneered, turned around, and walked straight toward Valerie’s group. Her group had a 12-person limit, so there was still room. Seeing Ethan leave, Dylan yelled after him: “Anyone else who wants to leave, do it now! If you wait, the other groups will be full!” He yelled, and three more guys left. From the 10 who started, we were down to 6 in less than five minutes. The livestream comments were brutal: [Down to 6? Speedrunning elimination.] [These poor trainees got dealt a bad hand.] [Broke-sister needs to quit. We’ll start a GoFundMe.] Dylan finally introduced the remaining guys. “This is Kael, an exchange student, currently ranked 77th. Wyatt, our main dancer, ranked 70th…” He rattled off the names. Not a single one in the top 50. “And me, your brother, barely scraping by at 20th.” “So this entire group doesn’t have a single debut spot?” I sighed, looking at this misfit crew. I felt like I was running a daycare for reality show rejects. “No, wait! Let me introduce my bro, Jaxon Pierce. Amazing singer and dancer, currently ranked 3rd.” I looked at the kid. Very handsome, giving off a detached, bad-boy vibe that teenage girls go crazy for. “Everyone else bailed. Why are you still here? Aren’t you worried about losing your top spot?” I asked. Jaxon tilted his chin toward Dylan. “I lost a bet to this idiot, so I promised to team up. But it doesn’t matter. I’m strong enough to carry. If you can’t write a song, I’ll just do it myself.” Damn. I’m kind of here for it. Guess I’m getting a cool brother-in-law.

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