Category: English

I was Cole’s doomed first love. But the moment he looped back in time, his very first instinct was to abandon me. He went straight to my stand-in to confess his feelings. The boy who once cried with red-rimmed eyes, swearing I was the love of his life, now stood in front of a rolling camera. He looked deeply into the eyes of the girl who replaced me and made a solemn vow. “Loving you is my business, and it has absolutely nothing to do with anyone else.” Later, on the day I accepted the confession from the untouchable genius of our college. Cole lost his mind and completely shattered the wine glass in his bare hand. People said that night, Cole completely lost it. 1 When I accidentally plummeted from the stage, the entire crew rushed over in a panic. Only Cole walked away, his back turned to the chaos. I rarely had the chance to see Cole walk away from me. In the past, he really did love me. So it was always me who turned around first. Fighting through the bone-piercing agony, I grabbed the wrist of a stagehand just before I blacked out. “Please. Book me a full-body scan.” According to the original plotline, I was supposed to die of stomach cancer in exactly one year. Then, I would become Cole’s tragic, unattainable first love. But the script had changed. Seeing the resolute yet guilty look in Cole’s eyes before he left, I knew I wasn’t the only one who remembered the past timeline. It was obvious who he was rushing off to find. The male lead had been reborn. He finally realized who his true love was and was desperate to find his substitute girl to prove his devotion. Their messy, passionate romance no longer needed a dying first love to serve as a stepping stone. But those chemotherapy sessions hurt. They hurt so much. And I really, really didn’t want to die again. 2 I was unconscious for an entire day. The doctor said my body was perfectly healthy. Nothing but a bit of mild gastritis. My calf was wrapped in a heavy plaster cast. It was clunky, but lying in that pristine white hospital bed, I felt an overwhelming sense of peace. During the days I spent resting with my leg elevated, plenty of classmates and friends dropped by with fruit and flowers. Cole never showed up once. Actually, in my previous life, I also fell off the stage during that same rehearsal. The difference was, the old Cole stayed by my hospital bed for three days and three nights without sleeping. He loved me so much back then. I remember him staring at my cast, trying to suppress his furious panic, his lips pressed tight as his eyes grew bloodshot. That was probably when he loved me the most. I returned to campus a week later, hobbling on crutches. Completely by accident, I stumbled right into a grand, highly publicized confession. Under the blinding spotlight, Cole handed a massive bouquet of baby’s breath to the girl who had just delivered a flawless performance. It was Lily’s favorite flower. The substitute. The live-stream cameras for the welcome gala were still rolling. Because of my accident days prior, the performance I had prepared was handed over to Lily. It felt like a universal rule. Whatever was mine would eventually belong to her. Cole stood in front of the massive crowd. Under the glittering lights, his eyes shimmered with unshed tears. I saw restraint in his gaze, mixed with the burning intensity of a man who had reclaimed his lost treasure. He looked at her and made his vow. “Loving you is my business, and it has absolutely nothing to do with anyone else.” I stared at Cole, feeling a bit numb. My mind drifted back to the year I was critically ill. The boy who was notoriously wild and untamable had cried until his eyes were swollen. He lay his head on the edge of my bed, choking on his sobs, begging me not to leave him. With trembling hands, he had carefully slipped a diamond ring onto my finger. Unfortunately, the disease took my life shortly after. I never got to give him an answer. The grand confession pushed the gala’s atmosphere to a fever pitch. Lily flushed a deep red. With a shy, breathtaking smile, she accepted the baby’s breath from Cole’s hands. They looked like a match made in heaven. Perfect. Destined. Then Blake vaulted onto the stage. He snatched the white flowers right out of Lily’s hands, his knuckles popping from how hard he gripped the stems. He smashed the bouquet at Cole’s feet. White petals exploded across the stage floor. “Is this how you treat Audrey?” Cole froze. He instinctively turned his head, his eyes scanning the crowd until they locked onto me standing on the outskirts. But his gaze darted away just as fast. The boy who once loved me to his very core lowered his eyelashes and took a firm, protective step in front of Lily. It was the ultimate defensive posture. Once a toxic male lead finally wakes up and realizes who he truly loves, he will never let his new leading lady suffer even a fraction of an ounce of disrespect. Not getting an answer, Blake swung a brutal punch right at Cole’s jaw. The romantic, cinematic confession instantly devolved into a messy brawl. Standing far away from the chaos, my fingers brushed against the crescent moon bracelet on my wrist. It was a birthday gift from Cole. He had put so much effort into it back then. A boy who hated sitting still actually spent an entire month designing it just for me. When he clasped it around my wrist, he pretended to be fierce, ordering me never to take it off. He told me it was one of a kind. A symbol of his exclusive devotion to me. But I was never his leading lady. I was just the doomed first love, a mere plot device meant to push his relationship with Lily forward. What isn’t mine will never belong to me. I decided I needed to find a time to give the bracelet back. 3 I have seen what Cole looks like when he truly loves someone. It happened in the timeline after my death. He didn’t know my soul was trapped by his side. He didn’t know I was forced to watch how the story unfolded. At first, he spiraled into a dark depression. Then, he became obsessed with collecting things that reminded him of me, finding a string of girls who shared my features. He had a lot of stand-ins. But Lily was the one who looked the least like me. She stayed by his side the longest. She was his ultimate female lead. It happened in the third year after my death. Cole finally snapped out of his delusion and realized he had fallen deeply in love with Lily. Their intense, dramatic romance left no room for anyone else. The so-called “first love” was just a tool to trigger their jealousy and push them closer together. When Blake found out Cole had caught real feelings for the substitute, he was furious and threw a punch. He demanded to know, “Is this how you treat Audrey?” Cole and Lily’s wedding reception was completely ruined by the sudden brawl. My ghost floated helplessly beside them. I wanted to break up the fight, but my hands passed through everything. I wanted to tell them to stop. I wanted to say Cole didn’t owe me anything. The only thing Cole might have felt guilty about was the time he got jumped in an alley, and I took a knife to the back for him. The cut was so deep it hit the bone, leaving a massive, ugly scar across my spine. Later, when I was diagnosed with terminal illness, Cole went absolutely insane trying to find a way to save me. He cried by my bed, swearing he would only ever love me. That he would only ever marry me. I had never seen him cry with such devastating despair. But promises are just words. They were never meant to be taken seriously. I snapped out of my memories. The two guys wrestling on the stage were finally pulled apart by the crowd. Cole had managed to land a solid punch right next to Blake’s ear. His eyes were completely dark, his voice a lethal warning. “Stop acting like a psycho.” In the last timeline, after Blake ruined the wedding, Cole used his family’s money to bankrupt Blake, eventually driving him to take his own life. Blake was only doing this for me. There was no way I could just stand by and watch. I hobbled over on my crutches, looking straight at a pale, trembling Lily. “Don’t misunderstand,” I told her seriously. “There is absolutely nothing going on between Cole and me.” Plotline aside, our connection should have been severed completely a long time ago. Hearing this, Blake wiped his mouth, stood up, and shot Cole a freezing glare. He carefully supported my weight and walked me out of the auditorium, step by step. Before I left the building, I unclasped the bracelet. It held the warmth of my skin, but as the cool night air hit it, it quickly grew cold. I thought about it for a second, then tossed it directly into a nearby trash can. I deliberately didn’t mention the bracelet in front of Lily. I knew Cole wouldn’t give her something I had already worn. He always gave Lily the very best of everything. Never a simple, fragile trinket like this. I felt a burning stare drilling into my back, practically piercing through my bones. I glanced over my shoulder. Cole was staring dead at my completely bare wrist. His face was terrifyingly pale. 4 After that night, I heard the rumors. While I was stuck in the hospital for a week, Cole had launched an aggressive, highly public pursuit of Lily. People called it love at first sight. He made such a massive scene that the whole campus knew, and their relationship practically had a dedicated fan club. That was exactly how Cole operated when he liked someone. Passionate. Fearless. Willing to lay the absolute best of the world at their feet. As for me. Some people waited to watch me humiliate myself. Others just pitied me. I didn’t care either way. My family’s background was on par with Cole’s, and our dating rumors had eventually reached our parents’ ears. When my mom called to ask, I just laughed it off and clarified that we were strictly platonic. It was a favor to Cole, and a favor to myself. I refused to get dragged into the messy drama of the main characters ever again. Balancing a heavy stack of library books in my arms, I slowly made my way down the stairs. My foot hadn’t completely healed yet. Suddenly, someone rushing to class clipped my shoulder from behind. The books scattered everywhere. I lost my balance. Seeing the hard concrete stairs rushing up to meet my face, I instinctively squeezed my eyes shut. The brutal impact never came. Someone firmly caught my forehead, steadying me. When I opened my eyes and saw his face, my eyelashes fluttered. I managed a clumsy, “Thank you.” It was Sebastian. I hadn’t seen Sebastian in a very long time. I had only heard whispers that he recently published another groundbreaking paper. The faculty worshipped him, and his spot in the top grad program was already locked in. Girls confessed to him constantly, but he never gave them the time of day. Just like in high school, he was the campus untouchable. Completely out of reach. Cold, detached, and impossible to claim. He quickly pulled his hand back and crouched down to gather my scattered books. His crisp white shirt seemed to glow in the sunlight spilling through the stairwell window. The tiny mole under the corner of his eye caught the light, gleaming in a way that made my chest ache. Right now, his expression was entirely blank. As if he didn’t even know me. I took the books he handed back. Just as he turned to leave, I reached out without thinking and grabbed the hem of his shirt. “Hey… could I get your number?” It was the clumsiest pickup line in existence. A brief flicker of surprise seemed to cross Sebastian’s features, but then it was gone, leaving nothing but ice. He looked down, his voice barely a whisper, yet every single word cut deep. “Are you trying to play me again, Audrey?” There was a bitter edge of self-mockery in his tone. My breath hitched. Ah. He hadn’t forgotten me after all. Which meant he probably hated my guts. 5 I met Sebastian long before I ever met Cole. But our ending was anything but graceful. Or rather, in Sebastian’s eyes, we never even had a beginning. I had told him I liked him. I worked myself to the bone just to get accepted into the same college as him. But the moment he finally gathered the courage to confess to me, I shot him down with brutal cruelty. At that time, the story’s algorithm had activated. I was destined to meet Cole freshman year, and I was destined to die a few years later, cementing my role as the untouchable ghost of his past. It was an unchangeable script. But back then, I had almost melted Sebastian’s frozen heart. The boy who was as cold as a glacier actually smiled at me with pure, unfiltered warmth. The System absolutely refused to let that happen. When the System attached itself to me, Sebastian’s existence almost got completely wiped out. People started forgetting the brilliant, aloof physics prodigy. His body began to turn translucent. Every trace that he had ever existed in this world was being erased by a supernatural force. Using my System privileges, I sneaked a look at what Sebastian’s future was supposed to be. It was beautiful. He was meant to enter the most prestigious university in the country and become a globally renowned astronomer at a shockingly young age. He would discover a planet, and they would name it after him. He shouldn’t lose a bright, brilliant future just because of me. At the high school graduation banquet, in front of our entire class, I dumped a glass of red wine right over his head. The dark red liquid ruined his shirt, completely crushed his pride. And annihilated his love for me. With my chin tilted high, I looked at him with absolute disgust. “You’re just a charity case living off my family’s money. Who gave you the right to like me?” No one knew my hands were violently shaking inside my sleeves. I never saw Sebastian again after that. After burning the bridge so thoroughly, he vanished from my world entirely. And eventually, I ran into Cole, the male lead I was mathematically obligated to fall for. The inescapable algorithm forced me step-by-step into the role of the tragic, short-lived first love. But all these years, I never once dreamed of Sebastian. Sometimes I thought I had been so wicked, so cruel. That even in my dreams, Sebastian refused to look at me.

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1 Ten years after my death, I saw Knox again. He still had that same reckless, untamed aura. With full tattoo sleeves and a lazy, arrogant slouch, he walked like a guy showing up to collect a gambling debt. I deliberately floated right into his personal space, blowing air into his face and waving my hands in front of his eyes. I even phased straight through his chest and out his back. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t see me anyway. Suddenly, his footsteps faltered. I thought he had actually felt something, but he just stopped, pulled out a cigarette, and squinted into the distance as he lit it. Then, looking absolutely nowhere, he casually remarked, “Hazel, your dress is dirty.” I froze, instinctively looking down. I was wearing the white dress I was buried in, and it was perfectly clean. Before I could even process what was happening, he added, “Idiot. You don’t even know how to clean yourself up before coming out to see me.” Wait! Could he see me? Hearing his words, I frantically inspected myself again. There was nothing there. I was spotless. I was convinced he could see me until he suddenly squatted down and began wiping the grime off my tombstone with his sleeve. “Stupid girl. You don’t even know your clothes are dirty after you’re dead.” Hey, make up your mind. What do you mean, I don’t know my clothes are dirty? I am a very hygienic ghost, thank you very much. I stood beside him, taking advantage of his blindness to throw phantom punches and kicks at his shoulders. Take that, you bastard. You didn’t expect this, did you? I could never beat you in a fight when I was alive, but now that I’m dead, I’m throwing heavy hands. We used to wrestle and play-fight all the time back in the day. Every single match ended with him effortlessly pinning me to the mattress. My consecutive losses only fueled my rebellious spirit. Where there is oppression, there is resistance. Even if I died before I ever actually won a round against him. Knox couldn’t feel my ghostly assault. Still squatting on the grass, he reached into a plastic bag and pulled out a carton of strawberry milk, my absolute favorite. He was wearing a faded hair tie on his wrist. It was mine from years ago. There were dark, heavy bags under his eyes, yet he still managed that signature wicked smirk. “Hazel, little kids need to drink more milk. I’m not pouring you liquor today. I brought you the strawberry stuff.” Hey, what is that supposed to mean? Are you insulting my alcohol tolerance? Furious, I draped myself over his back and let my long ghost hair fall directly over his eyes. Consider yourself lucky, Knox. I am giving you the premium paranormal blackout experience, free of charge. You’re welcome. Knox suddenly raised a hand and brushed his own dark bangs out of his eyes, nearly giving me a heart attack. For a second, I thought he had actually felt my hair. I don’t know what memory suddenly crossed his mind, but the warmth in his eyes vanished instantly. A suffocating wave of pure depression radiated from his body. Beneath that heavy sorrow, there was a bitter trace of guilt. He lowered his head and whispered, “Hazel, I’m sorry.” Huh? Sorry? Sorry for what? “I shouldn’t have picked a fight with you that day.” Oh, please. Couples fight all the time. I waved my hand dismissively, even though he couldn’t see it. “If I hadn’t fought with you, would you still be alive?” As he spoke, the rims of his eyes turned a violent shade of red. His entire posture collapsed into misery. I patted his broad shoulder, trying to soothe him. “Come on, Knox. You’re thirty-two years old, why are we bringing up ancient history? Let the past stay in the past.” But he couldn’t hear me. He remained trapped in his own suffocating guilt. Honestly, I had never seen him look this broken before. From the day I met him, he had always been wildly arrogant, untethered, and constantly wearing a lazy smirk. All his friends used to say he was the anchor of the group, completely unshakeable. Yet here he was, looking exactly like a puppy that had been abandoned in the rain. Seeing him like this, the sympathy I thought had died along with my physical body started to overflow. “Good boy. Mommy is still here. I might be dead, but my soul is hanging around.” I reached out to stroke his thick dark hair, softening my voice. He suddenly looked up, his gaze piercing directly into the spot where I was floating. “Hazel, you’re definitely laughing at me right now.” My eyes went wide. “Bullshit, I am mothering you.” 2 Knox and I were high school classmates, but back then, we were absolute mortal enemies. He was ranked first in our grade. I was ranked second. Every single exam, I would lose to him by a agonizing margin of just a few points. I was highly competitive since childhood, always praised as the golden child by everyone’s parents. But the moment I entered high school and collided with Knox, I became the eternal runner-up. It was the greatest humiliation of my life. So, I made it my mission to battle him in absolutely everything. That dynamic carried over into college until one day, out of nowhere, he cornered me and asked, “Hazel, do you want a taste of being number one?” I narrowed my eyes. “How?” I genuinely thought he was going to share some secret study technique with me. Who knew he meant the literal taste of it. But if I’m being completely honest, the taste wasn’t bad at all. From that day on, the world gained another fiercely competitive, enemies-to-lovers couple. As my mind swam in memories, Knox suddenly stood up, inadvertently raising my field of vision since I was still piggybacking on him. I have to say, the air up here was pretty nice. He touched my tombstone. The gesture was as gentle as if he were stroking my hair. His tone was terribly lonely. “Hazel, are you mad that it took me this long to finally come see you?” “Hell yeah I am. If you hadn’t mentioned it, I would’ve forgotten you even existed. Where the hell have you been for ten years?” I floated just above his head, resting my hands on my hips. He let out a self-deprecating laugh and muttered something under his breath. I didn’t catch the whole sentence, just the faint outline of a few words. “…coming… to join you soon…” My non-existent heart dropped. I immediately floated down from his head and grabbed his shoulders. “Knox, absolutely not. I might be dead, but you need to live a good, long life for the both of us.” His deep, dark eyes stared straight ahead, looking right through me. In that split second, I felt my dead heart kickstart back to life. How else could I explain the sudden nervous flutter in my stomach just from his gaze? I drifted to the side and followed his line of sight. He was just looking at a purple butterfly. Snapping out of his daze, he started pulling more snacks out of the bag, arranging them in a perfectly neat line in front of my headstone. “Hazel, even if you’re dead, you need to eat well. Don’t let yourself go hungry.” He patted the cold stone. I nodded, looking at him with deep approval. “Good boy. You learned well. These are all my favorites.” “I’m leaving now. I’ll come see you again soon.” He smiled, brushing his thumb lovingly over the engraved photo on my stone, and turned to walk away. I frantically rushed in front of him. “Hold on, don’t leave yet. Explain what you meant about coming to join me!” But he couldn’t see me, and he walked right through my translucent body. I spun around in absolute panic, wanting to chase him but terrifyingly aware of the rules. Ever since I died, I had been bound to my grave. The maximum distance I could travel was fifty meters. Whenever new ghosts arrived at the cemetery, I couldn’t even go over to gossip with them. I had to wait for them to wander into my zone. But watching his broad back get further and further away, I stopped caring about the rules. Whatever. If I get violently yanked back by the invisible tether, so be it. I braced myself and chased after him. Fifty meters. Sixty meters. Wait. I was fine! I floated right next to Knox, suddenly realizing the air around me smelled amazing. Even though I didn’t actually need to breathe. I matched his pace, grinning from ear to ear. “Knox, you really are my lucky charm. You show up one time, and my invisible leash snaps. You’re basically a miracle worker.” His walking pace suddenly quickened, and he muttered under his breath, “Why does it feel like there’s a freezing draft right next to me?” I burst into a fit of hysterical laughter. I couldn’t believe it. After all these years, this heavily tattooed badass was still terrified of ghosts. Whenever we watched horror movies in the past, he would shrink down and hide his face against my chest like a terrified little bird. It always made my protective instincts go into overdrive. 3 At one o’clock in the afternoon, I followed Knox into his apartment. I had fully expected to walk into a chaotic, disgusting bachelor pad. Instead, I was staring at an incredibly clean, minimalist space. Was this really the apartment of the same Knox who used to leave his socks everywhere? Knox immediately pulled his t-shirt over his head, tossing it aside as he opened the fridge to grab a cold Coke. While I shamelessly drooled over his perfectly sculpted abs, I muttered my complaints. “Knox, I know your body is a literal feast for the eyes, but how many times do I have to tell you? Don’t strip the second you walk indoors. You’ll catch a cold.” A bead of sweat slid slowly down the deep V of his abs. I wiped a non-existent line of drool from my mouth and sneakily reached out to trace the sweat drop. Right as my spectral fingers brushed against him, he reached up and aggressively wiped the sweat away himself. I yanked my hand back instantly, staring at him with a wildly guilty conscience. I knew perfectly well he couldn’t see me, but even ghosts have a sense of shame. If other spirits caught me doing this, I’d be the laughingstock of the underworld. After finishing his Coke, he headed straight for the bathroom. Now that I could walk through walls, the temptation was real. But spying on him in the shower was crossing a line. I was a ghost with morals. Forty minutes later, I stared at the locked bathroom door, my anxiety spiking. What the hell was taking so long? In the past, his showers never lasted more than twenty minutes. Why was he taking forever today? Could he be… Committing suicide in the tub? The moment that dark thought entered my head, it took root. The panic spiraled out of control. I couldn’t wait any longer. I phased right through the heavy wooden door. The first thing I saw was a horrifying swirl of crimson water pooling on the tiles. Oh god. He really did it. I rushed toward him, terrified he was bleeding out on the cold floor. But when I reached him, I found him fully dressed in a soft pair of sweatpants, his hair dripping wet. Blood was pouring rapidly out of his nose. The reason the floor looked like a murder scene was because the blood had dripped into the wet puddles from his shower, diluting and spreading everywhere. Seeing that, my heart finally dropped back into my chest. Without thinking, I grabbed a wad of toilet paper from the roll and held it right up to his face. Knox froze. He turned completely rigid. I frowned. Why was he acting paralyzed? Confused, I waved the toilet paper directly in front of his eyes. His pupils dilated in absolute, unadulterated horror as he stared at the floating wad of paper. A few seconds later, he scrambled backward, trying to bolt for the door. I panicked and chased after him. “Why are you running? Take the paper! Your nose is bleeding a river!” The sheer terror in his eyes intensified. He slipped on the wet tiles and crashed hard onto the floor. I rushed forward with the paper to help him up, but he scrambled out of the bathroom on his hands and knees, bolting toward the living room. I followed him out, still holding the paper out like a peace offering. This idiot was leaving a trail of blood drops all over his pristine hardwood floors. Didn’t he realize he needed to plug it? He suddenly threw a hand up in front of his face, squeezed his eyes shut, and yelled, “I… I’m warning you!” Huh? Warning me? “If you come… come any closer, I’ll scream!” He shrank back into the corner of the sofa, his entire large frame trembling violently. It finally clicked in my head. Right. To him, this must look like a wad of toilet paper miraculously detached itself from the roll, floated up to his face, and was now aggressively chasing him around his apartment. Realizing this, the chaotic, evil side of my personality completely took over. A wicked smirk spread across my face. I pinched the toilet paper and floated even closer to his face. He kept his eyes squeezed tight, aggressively muttering under his breath. I leaned in to hear him properly. “Our Father who art in heaven, save me from the evil spirits, Hail Mary, Buddha, whoever is listening…” Good lord. He was just speed-running through every religion hoping one of them had jurisdiction over his living room. Too bad none of them worked on me. Smiling brightly, I rolled the paper into a tight little cylinder and forcefully jammed it right up his bleeding nostril. Perfect. I hadn’t lost my sniper-level accuracy. Feeling the physical impact, Knox stopped his frantic praying. He cracked one eye open and peeked nervously in my general direction. Since he already knew a supernatural entity was in the room, there was no point in hiding. While ghosts generally can’t touch living humans, we can interact with small, light objects. I grabbed his smartphone off the coffee table, punched in his passcode from memory, opened the Notes app, and started typing furiously. Knox stared in absolute shock at the empty space where I was sitting. His lips parted, then closed again. Finally, in a very small, very polite voice, he asked, “Could you please give my phone back?” I ignored him and kept typing. Seeing me ignore him, he didn’t dare say another word. This six-foot-two, heavily tattooed man sat perfectly upright on the edge of the sofa, his posture as stiff as a board. When I finished, I held the glowing screen right up to his face.

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I couldn’t sleep last night, so I was mindlessly scrolling through short videos on my phone. I stumbled upon a trending question: “Just how much damage can a man’s unforgettable first love do?” Right there in the top comments was my boyfriend’s reply. “She was just diagnosed with terminal cancer. But all I can think about is how glad I am that she isn’t her.” Well. That was awkward. Especially since my cancer turned out to be a misdiagnosis. 1 The day I walked out of the hospital clutching a terminal cancer diagnosis, Sebastian was still throwing a tantrum because I hadn’t delivered breakfast to him after his night of heavy drinking. I had been with Sebastian for three years. For three years, I had been the perfect, compliant girlfriend. I worked like a dog, swallowed my pride, and never uttered a single word of complaint. He would get wasted at some exclusive club, call me in the dead of night, and demand I bring him a bowl of homemade soup. And when I rushed over to deliver it, he would toss it straight into the trash without blinking. Then he would turn to his wealthy friends and smirk. “Told you she’d come crawling. Pay up.” When he was caught flirting with other women, he would force me to step in, use my status as his official girlfriend, and clean up his mess. Afterward, he would brag to his inner circle. “As long as Stella stays this obedient, I might just let her stick around.” Yes. Sebastian was the most notorious playboy in our social circle. He was young, insanely wealthy, drop-dead gorgeous, and knew exactly how to play the game. Rumor had it he was incredible in bed, too. He was adored in this elite world. During our time together, practically every other month I would get a phone call from some socialite demanding I step down and make room for her. The only reason I managed to stay by his side for so long was pure, unadulterated obedience. And the fact that I looked exactly like his first love. Over the years, I had heard the tragic tale of his “white moonlight” from countless gossiping mouths. They were childhood sweethearts. Families of equal status. The ultimate first love trope. If tragedy hadn’t struck, they would have walked down the aisle and merged their empires. But right before their engagement, her family abruptly declared bankruptcy. The arranged marriage was instantly canceled by Sebastian’s ruthless father. Heartbroken, the girl fled to Europe and never looked back. Every time Sebastian paraded a new woman around, someone would maliciously recount this story to me. My ears were practically callous from hearing it. They were reminding me of my place. I was just a cheap stand-in. I was no different from the rest of his disposable toys. Even Sebastian’s friends constantly told me I should be counting my lucky stars just to breathe the same air as him. Usually, I had the patience to stroke Sebastian’s massive ego. But I thought I was dying. I had zero patience left for his toxic games. When he called to complain about breakfast, I snapped. “I don’t have time today. Buy your own damn food.” He clearly hadn’t expected me to talk back. He froze for a second. “You want me to buy takeout? You know my stomach is a mess, and you’re telling me to eat garbage?” Suddenly, the whole charade felt incredibly exhausting. “If your stomach hurts, go see a doctor. I’m not a physician. What the hell is calling me going to do?” I hung up immediately and blocked his number. A massive wave of relief washed over me. Three days ago, I received a phone call from across the Atlantic. It was Sebastian’s legendary first love. She told me she was flying back. My mission was over. Everyone thought my three years of enduring Sebastian’s sadistic mood swings was because I was desperately, hopelessly in love with him. They were wrong. Molly had paid me three million dollars to buy three years of my life. Molly. Sebastian’s untouchable first love. 2 Nobody knew the real reason I took Molly’s three million dollars. I had a younger brother whose kidneys were failing. He was dying. Our parents had died in a horrific car crash when I was very young. For years, I juggled multiple minimum-wage jobs while going to school, desperately trying to keep my brother, Toby, fed and clothed. He was eight years younger than me. When he was little, he would rest his chin on my shoulder and whisper softly. “Stella, I’m going to grow up fast.” “When I get big, I’m going to buy you a closet full of beautiful dresses.” He was always such a good kid. He studied hard, stayed out of trouble, and grew from a tiny toddler into a handsome, six-foot-tall young man. Even when he was confined to a hospital bed, his face pale and sickly after grueling dialysis sessions, he would still hold my hand. He would tell me over and over again. “Stella, Sebastian is a bad person. You need to leave him.” I would stroke his hair and lie through my teeth. I told him it was fine. I told him Sebastian was just a little immature, but he was a good guy deep down. Toby would just look at me and silently cry. He told me he was nothing but a burden. He said he had been dragging me down since he was born. I wanted to shake him. I wanted to tell him that my Toby was never a burden. He was my only anchor in this brutal world. People need an anchor to survive. But then I lost him. I watched helplessly as the boy I raised was reduced to an urn small enough to hold in my hands. My only tether to this world was gone. The day the doctor told me I needed to be hospitalized for my own failing health, Sebastian’s first love touched down at the international airport. It was treated like a royal homecoming. A mutual friend screenshotted Sebastian’s Instagram story for me. It was a photo of the two of them. Molly looked breathtaking in a white designer dress, stepping out of the private terminal with a massive bouquet of roses pressed to her chest. She looked elegant, wealthy, and flawless. The caption read: “Finally.” The comments were flooded with his elite friends kissing their feet. Sebastian actually seemed to care about Molly. He wiped his social media completely clean of his playboy past. He curated his image to look like a devoted man who had spent years waiting for his true love to return. If he hadn’t used a burner phone to text me at two in the morning, I might have actually believed he had changed. The text read: “Stella, if you behave and crawl back, I’ll pretend your little tantrum never happened.” I blocked that number too. What a piece of trash. Three years ago, just days after Toby was admitted to the ICU, a mountain of medical debt threatened to bury me alive. That was when Molly found me online. She offered me a deal. If I agreed to act as Sebastian’s girlfriend, report his every move to her, and keep him occupied until she returned, she would wire me three million dollars. I agreed in a heartbeat. That money was Toby’s lifeline. My logic was beautifully simple back then. I just wanted the cash to cure Toby, and then we would vanish together. God only knows how exhausting it was to play the submissive, sweet girlfriend for three years. There were so many days I fantasized about kicking Sebastian down a flight of stairs. I finally held out until Molly returned. The moment I tasted freedom, the air had never felt sweeter. Go back to him? He could rot in hell. 3 I didn’t check into the hospital. The doctor warned me that without immediate treatment, I wouldn’t have much time left. I still didn’t go. I remembered the sheer agony Toby endured on that sterile bed. I was terrified. He had always hated pain. I still didn’t know how he survived those brutal dialysis sessions. I hated pain too. But more than that, I was terrified of waking up screaming in the middle of the night with no one there to hold my hand. I took the remaining money from Molly’s payment and opened a tiny coffee shop. Over the years, I had worked countless odd jobs to keep Toby alive. Being a barista was one of them. Toby always loved the coffee I made. Lying in the hospital, pale as a ghost, he used to smile and promise me that when he got better, he would work three jobs, save up, and open a café just for me. He said he would be my loyal waiter. He never made it to that day. Now it was just me, alone in this little shop. Business wasn’t booming, but it was enough to keep the lights on. Right before closing on a Friday, a massive corporate order came in. One hundred artisanal coffees. I smiled so hard my cheeks ached. I worked like a machine, terrified that if I was a minute late, they would cancel the order. But when I arrived at the delivery address and saw Sebastian standing in the penthouse lobby, I turned on my heel to leave. To hell with this money. Sebastian stepped into my path, tilting his perfectly sculpted jaw. “Stella, are you done throwing your little fit?” He narrowed his dark eyes, radiating arrogance. “Do not push my boundaries. If you come back to my apartment right now, I will let this slide. Even though Molly is back, I’ll allow you to stay by my side.” He spoke slowly, his tone dripping with condescension. He genuinely believed he was offering me the charity of a lifetime. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I ripped the lid off a cup and hurled the scorching coffee directly into his smug face. “Are you out of your psychotic mind?! Go see a psychiatrist!” “These past three years with you have been a living nightmare. Do you actually think you’re God’s gift to women?” “Sebastian, looking at your face makes me physically nauseous!” “What a waste. You just ruined a perfectly good cup of coffee!” God. Molly never mentioned I would have to deal with post-sale customer service when I signed that contract. Sebastian was completely stunned. He stood frozen, espresso dripping from his expensive hair onto his designer suit. He couldn’t compute what had just happened. It made sense. For three years, I had been completely docile. If he told me to walk east, I never looked west. If he demanded I jump off a yacht into freezing water just for his amusement, I did it without hesitation. My dedication to the role was unmatched. He wiped his face, his eyes turning slightly red with frustration. “You were never like this.” “I just want things to go back to how they were.” I understood exactly what this was. Asking this arrogant billionaire to show weakness was like asking him to cut off his own arm. But why the hell should I care? I tossed the empty cup into a nearby trash can. “How they were? You mean playing the role of your pathetic, obedient dog?” “Sorry to break it to you. I’m resigning from that position.” I didn’t wait for a response. I walked out to my delivery van and drove away. In my rearview mirror, I could see him standing frozen in the plaza. He looked like a proud, majestic lion that had just been brutally beaten. I let out a cold, mocking laugh. I knew Sebastian better than anyone. Showing up today was just another one of his sick little games. I wondered how much money he and his frat-boy friends had bet on this outcome. None of it mattered to me anymore. I only cared about what his next move would be. Because right now, he was dancing exactly to the tune I was playing.

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My boyfriend’s half-Russian brother never liked me. But while his older brother was away on a business trip, the younger twin dyed his golden-brown hair pitch black, showed up at my door in the dead of night, and tried to seduce me. He wanted to prove just how shallow I was, assuming I wouldn’t even be able to tell them apart. I looked at the 6-foot-2, hard-muscled college athlete standing outside my door and plastered a look of pure surprise on my face. I pointed toward a package, hinting at the kinky outfit Victor had always flat-out refused to wear for me. “Victor, babe, the stuff you bought just arrived.” “Did you plan this on purpose? You have to wear it for me tonight, okay?” Felix maintained his brother’s signature ice-cold expression, but a flicker of sheer panic betrayed his blue eyes. “I… bought this?” 1 “Yeah, and you also got…” I blinked, looking at him with feigned confusion. “Don’t you usually love playing these games with me?” “Why are you acting so weird today?” Felix clearly hadn’t prepared for this. He probably never imagined that his aloof, untouchable CEO brother was into such twisted bedroom games in private. His Adam’s apple bobbed heavily. He swallowed hard and decided to commit to the bit. “I do like… this stuff. I’m just a little surprised you’re being so forward tonight, baby.” “Since you came all this way to surprise me, I obviously have to return the favor.” Biting the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing, I shoved him toward the walk-in closet. “Hurry up and change. I’ll be waiting.” Fifteen minutes later, the closet door clicked open. My eyes immediately lit up. I had to admit, Felix’s physique was just as sculpted as his brother’s. His hard pecs and defined abs looked incredibly sinful pressing against the sheer, black mesh fabric. His naturally pale face was flushed violently red all the way to the tips of his ears. He couldn’t even bring himself to meet my eyes. “Ahem. So, does it look the same as usual?” I knew he was secretly recording this, so I deliberately ignored his question. Leaning in close to his ear, I whispered in my softest voice, “You are being such a good boy for me today.” Felix let out a muffled groan, his entire body going rigid in an instant. I smirked. With a swift click, I locked his wrists into the padded cuffs. “What are you doing?” Felix was genuinely stunned now. “Didn’t you always say this is how you like it best?” Before he could process that, I quickly discovered that the twins were equally, incredibly gifted in certain departments. I let out a soft, breathy laugh. “You really didn’t lie to me, babe…” The corners of Felix’s eyes were burning red. He interrupted me in a complete panic. “Ba… baby, can we pause for a second? I’m not feeling too well today.” I raised an eyebrow. He was already in this deep, and he still refused to confess and apologize? Then he couldn’t blame me for taking my revenge all the way to the finish line. “What hurts? You feel exactly the same as usual…” Before I could even finish my sentence, his lips crashed down, silencing me completely. 2 The next day, I slept until nearly noon, waking up with my entire body feeling sore and delightfully weak. The other side of the bed was, of course, empty. The thought of Felix fleeing at the crack of dawn, totally unaware that his brother and I had actually already broken up, made me want to laugh out loud. I took a moment to savor the memory of his flushed, desperate expressions from last night. Thinking of Victor, I suddenly remembered that right after I sent him the breakup text yesterday, Felix had shown up before I even got a reply. I reached for my phone on the nightstand. Swiping the screen unlocked it, and my heart skipped a beat. There were over a hundred unread notifications crowding the screen. Almost all of them were from Victor. [Sienna, what the hell do you mean, break up? Are you playing hard to get?] [This tactic won’t work on me. I’m busy. I don’t have time for these childish games.] [It’s been ten minutes. Why aren’t you replying?] … [Baby, I’m booking a flight back right now. We’ll talk face to face, okay?] [Missed FaceTime call] x 10 [Why won’t you answer my calls?] [I do not accept this breakup. Baby, please just talk to me.] And then another massive wall of missed video calls. 3 I stared at the screen, utterly shocked. This manic, obsessive text bombing was completely out of character for the usually composed, icy Victor Kensington. Even back when we were at Stanford, Victor was famously unapproachable. Anyone who tried to get close was met with a freezing, “Not interested. I don’t do relationships.” That changed a year after graduation. To rebel against his family’s arranged marriage plans, Victor needed a smart, cooperative fake girlfriend. I had worked with him on an AI project under the same professor, and since I was currently consulting for his tech firm, I became the perfect candidate. In the beginning, I admit I had my own romantic fantasies about him. But reality set in quickly. Whenever Victor took me back to the suffocating environment of the Kensington estate, he would act incredibly affectionate, calling me “baby” just to put on a show for his father and Felix. But in private, his texts and conversations were always just a few cold, sterile words. On special occasions, he just had his assistant buy me some random limited-edition bag from a luxury brand. No warmth. Just clinical detachment. The only time he wasn’t cold was when we were in bed. But trying to get him to do what I tricked Felix into doing last night? Impossible. “This kind of trash is for a lapdog. What the hell do you take me for?” he had growled that night, his voice dark and rough as he punished me for the suggestion well into the early morning hours. 4 Lately, Victor had crossed the line. Before this New York trip, he ghosted me for half a month. When he finally reappeared, he offered zero explanations and actively avoided me. Who could endure that kind of freezing out? So, after a lot of painful thinking, I finally pulled the plug. I glanced down at the timestamps on Victor’s replies. The first one came exactly ten minutes after I sent the breakup text. That was weird. It was 10:00 AM in New York. Victor was supposed to be in a crucial, high-stakes board meeting all morning. Knowing his ruthless work ethic, he would never deal with personal drama during business hours. Felix knew this too, which was why he felt safe impersonating his brother to give me a “surprise” last night. So why did Victor not only reply, but completely lose his mind spamming me with calls? And this business trip was supposed to last at least two weeks. How could he possibly fly back right now just to talk? I frowned and typed back quickly. [Victor, we are breaking up, not getting a divorce.] [I don’t need your approval.] [And stop calling me baby. You’ve never treated me like one.] I hit send, then immediately blocked his number. That afternoon, I booked a spa day with my best friends, went shopping, and treated myself to an amazing dinner. My mood finally lifted. But the moment I walked up to my apartment, I found a very sulky, mixed-race puppy glaring at my door. Felix hadn’t dyed his hair back to golden-brown yet, but he had taken out the dark contacts, revealing his piercing, ocean-blue eyes. He had ditched the tailored dress shirt for a black oversized hoodie and dark cargo pants. The difference in their auras was instantly obvious. I felt a sudden rush of amusement and let a small smile touch my lips. “Felix? What are you doing here? Didn’t you know your brother is on a business trip?” 5 Felix’s blue eyes looked ready to shoot fire. The second I opened the door, he pushed inside, backing me against the entryway console. “Cut the act, Sienna. You knew it wasn’t my brother last night, didn’t you?” I let out a soft snort of laughter. “So what if I did? Weren’t you the one who showed up at my door to seduce me?” Felix’s face flushed a deep crimson. “I didn’t plan for that to happen! And you tricked me into wearing that sick outfit! I betrayed my brother, but do you honestly think you’re innocent in this?” Seeing him look like he was going to die of guilt was satisfying enough. I decided I had tortured him enough and hummed lightly. “Your brother and I already broke up. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have even let you inside.” Felix froze. A spark lit up in his eyes, quickly followed by a storm of conflicting emotions. “Broke up? When did…” Right on cue, my phone started buzzing in my purse. I glanced at the screen, immediately pushed him aside, and answered. It was the HR department at Apex Ventures. The recruiter was calling to ask if I could onboard early, mentioning that the senior partners were highly impressed with me and wanted me on a massive new project immediately. I cheerfully agreed and hung up, only to find Felix staring at me with an even more complex expression. “You… got an offer from Apex? That’s one of the most brutal VC firms on Wall Street.” “I heard the workload there destroys people.” I raised an eyebrow, putting the pieces together. The last time I visited my old Stanford professor, Felix must have overheard our conversation. He always assumed my networking was just a desperate attempt to get a glowing recommendation so I could secure my spot in the wealthy Kensington family. He thought I was a gold digger. That’s why he despised me and constantly told his brother to dump me. “Listen, pretty boy. I didn’t bust my ass to get into an Ivy League school and graduate top of my class just to marry into old money.” “I have my own career ambitions. I’m not a billionaire heir like you, so when I need to bow my head to get ahead, I do it.” My sharp sarcasm made Felix look thoroughly ashamed, yet the blue of his eyes somehow burned even brighter. He cleared his throat softly. “My brother’s… Sienna, I’m sorry. I completely misunderstood you before.” “So, if you and my brother are really over… would you consider me?” 6 I looked up in genuine surprise. Felix was gazing down at me, his blue eyes incredibly intense and burning with raw heat. With a face that looked like it belonged on a Renaissance statue and a lean, athletic 6-foot-2 frame, claiming I wasn’t tempted would be a total lie. Besides, didn’t everyone say the best way to get over a man was to get under a new one? Forgetting Victor wasn’t going to be easy, and high-quality rebounds like this didn’t exactly fall from the sky. “You took my first time. You have to take responsibility for me.” When I didn’t answer immediately, Felix let out a pathetic little sigh, blinking his thick lashes as he leaned in to whisper seductively. “I’ll wear whatever you want me to wear. I’ll even wear the… the collar, if you want.” “I bet my brother never wanted to wear that for you, right?” “Besides, you really loved it last night, didn’t you?” …He wasn’t wrong. The puppy was inexperienced, but he was undeniably passionate. “I’ll consider it. But given your horrible prejudice against me in the past…” I paused deliberately. “You’re on a one-month probation.” That night, Felix shamelessly begged his way into my bed to undergo a very thorough “probationary review.” A nineteen-year-old college athlete possessed an absolutely terrifying amount of stamina. He was like an overpowered machine that simply refused to shut down. By the time he finally carried me to the bathroom to wash up, it was the middle of the night. I forced my heavy eyes open to check my phone and saw dozens of missed calls from Victor’s alternate numbers. But my body was too exhausted and entirely hollowed out. Before I could even form a coherent thought, I passed out. The next morning, Felix reluctantly dragged himself out of bed to go to his classes. That evening, he showed up at my door carrying an armful of beautifully wrapped gift boxes. “Sienna, this is my peace offering. An apology for all the times I was rude to you.” I thought back to the last two years, remembering how he used to scowl every time Victor forced him to acknowledge my presence at family dinners. I accepted the gifts without an ounce of guilt. “No more giving me attitude.” On the third day, Felix took me out for a romantic dinner and a late-night drive. I had no idea this boy could be so intensely clingy in a relationship. He was sickeningly sweet the entire time. That sugary high lasted right up until we walked back to my apartment and unlocked the door. Felix froze dead in his tracks. “Brother?”

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They called Kate an angel. When I, the long-lost heir, was dying, she saved me. No one knew she’d signed the organ donation papers. The surgery worked; I lived. But Kate was destroyed. Complications and depression consumed her, and she withered away. The house grew cold. Mother wept constantly; Father’s sighs deepened. I became the unwelcome ghost in the Harrington estate, my survival a glaring accusation. Then I heard Father’s choked confession: “We saved Sierra, but it cost Kate everything. What is the point of Sierra even being alive?” Paul’s icy glare cut deeper. “Don’t touch her. How dare you stand in the same room as Kate?” I opened my desk drawer. There lay the proof: Kate’s donation agreement, and the blank form I had prepared for myself. I once thought giving it back would be enough. Now I understood. A soul saved by an angel doesn’t deserve the sun. Every breath I took stole the light from her. This family needed Kate. They never needed me. I shut the drawer—and with it, the door to my heart they never truly opened. 1 I never realized the hallways of a hospital could feel this freezing. The corridor stretched out long and empty. The harsh, sterile lights illuminated every corner, leaving nowhere to hide. I gripped the organ donation form, my knuckles turning a pale, translucent white. “Sierra Harrington?” the nurse’s voice crackled through the intercom, utterly devoid of emotion. I stood up. The few steps to the consultation room felt like walking barefoot on shattered glass. The doctor was a middle-aged man with kind, tired eyes. He took the paperwork, scanned it, and looked up at me. “Your condition has progressed this far? It is a tragedy. You young people never take care of yourselves. A few more routine checkups and we could have caught this early.” “Doctor, I need to ask about the donation process.” My voice was terrifyingly calm. “I want to donate after I pass. Everything that is viable. I want it all to go to her.” His gaze sharpened instantly. “To who?” “Kate Harrington.” The name left a bitter taste on my tongue. He flipped through the forms, his frown deepening. “A relative? Then why aren’t your family members here to co-sign? We need informed consent from next of kin.” “I don’t have any family.” The words scraped against my throat like razor blades. “I am an orphan.” I quickly added another lie. “I am not biologically related to her. I just heard she was very sick.” The doctor stared at me for a long time. The silence stretched so thin I thought he was going to flat-out refuse. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh, pulled a pen from his pocket, and tapped a line on the consent form. “You will need to sign here. And initial these risk disclosure pages.” I took the pen. When the ink met the paper, my hand did not shake at all. “Given your current vitals, if you opted for the surgical intervention, there might still be a glimmer of hope,” he offered softly, seemingly unable to watch a young life extinguish itself without a fight. “A glimmer of hope?” I whispered. I wondered if this was a test from God. If a surgery succeeded, I could forget the past, take my father’s money, leave the Harrington family behind, and start over in some quiet town. But if it failed, I would give every piece of myself to Kate. They all said I owed her my life. It was time to pay my debts. 2 “Okay. I will do the surgery. If there is a chance, who wouldn’t want to live?” I offered a self-deprecating smile. After scheduling the admission and the operation, I walked out of the clinic. My phone began to vibrate in my pocket. The screen lit up with the word Mom. My thumb hovered over the green accept button, but I couldn’t bring myself to press it. Eventually, the buzzing stopped. A text message popped up. Sierra, are you coming home for dinner this weekend? I stared at that single line of text until the screen went black. Then, slowly, I deleted the message letter by letter. The phone rang again. This time it was Paul. I answered. Before I could even breathe, his voice cut through the line, sharp and cold. “Where are you?” “Out,” I replied. “Kate is having a terrible mental health day. Her psychiatrist says it is a severe depressive episode triggered by the donation complications.” Paul’s voice was tight with suppressed anxiety. “Mom has been crying all afternoon. If you don’t have any actual business here, stay away this weekend.” I leaned my back against the freezing tiled wall of the hospital and closed my eyes. “Understood.” “What exactly do you understand?” Paul’s tone spiked with sudden venom. “Do you have any idea how much she sacrificed for you? She has to take seven different pills a day now. Two of them are heavy antidepressants. She used to be the brightest, happiest girl in the world. Now she is terrified of the sunlight hitting her window.” I murmured a quiet agreement. Paul practically yelled into the receiver. “You get to walk around perfectly healthy while she rots away! Sometimes I really just want to…” He cut himself off. But I knew exactly how that sentence ended. Sometimes he really wished Kate had let me die. “I am sorry,” I said. I had said those words so many times they had lost all meaning. The silence on the other end lasted so long I thought the call had dropped. When Paul finally spoke again, he just sounded utterly exhausted. “Forget it. Mom told me to ask you about the Kensington charity gala next week. Are you going? Kate might make an appearance. If you are there…” “I am not going,” I answered immediately. I heard a faint exhale of relief from his end, though his tone remained rigid. “I will have my assistant send a dress to your apartment anyway. You know how it is. Mom had Kate’s gown custom-made in Paris, so yours will be a bit simpler off the rack. Do not take it personally. This is what you owe her.” I didn’t reply. I ended the call and slowly slid down the wall until I was sitting on the floor. The hospital tiles were like ice. The cold seeped through my clothes and buried itself deep in my bones. My phone buzzed one more time. A banking alert. Fifty thousand dollars. The memo line contained exactly three words. Take care, Dad. This was the third wire transfer this month. Richard always did this. He used wealth to spackle over the massive, unspeakable cracks in our family. It was as if the chime of a bank notification fulfilled his entire duty as a father. I forced myself to stand. My legs were numb. By the time I walked out through the sliding glass doors, it was dusk. The setting sun stained the sky a sickly, vibrant crimson. It looked like an open wound bleeding across the horizon. 3 I ate cheap takeout for three days straight. My phone lit up on the coffee table. A message in the Harrington family group chat from Eleanor. Kate agreed to go for a walk today! We only made it ten minutes, but it is a massive step forward! [Heart] [Heart] A cascade of celebratory emojis followed. Richard replied with a proud “Fantastic news.” Paul sent a row of digital fireworks. I stared at the glowing screen. My fingers hovered over the digital keyboard, but I typed nothing. I exited the chat and opened my files app. It was a scanned copy of the organ donation consent form I had finalized three days ago. My eyes locked onto the beneficiary line. Kate Harrington. Below it was a clinical checklist of harvested parts. Heart. Liver. Kidneys. Lungs. Corneas. It read like a menu for my own death. I locked my phone and shoved the paperwork into the deepest corner of my desk drawer, right next to the agreement Kate had signed a year ago. Two contracts. Two sacrifices. Two destinies swapping places. Outside, the sky turned pitch black. I stood up and began to clean the apartment. In truth, there wasn’t much to clean. I had been renting this place for barely six months, and my possessions were pitifully scarce. A few articles of clothing, a handful of books, some basic toiletries. When they brought me home from the foster system, I only had one small suitcase. I suppose I would be leaving the same way. On the desk sat a single framed photograph. It was the only picture I had of the entire family. We took it during my first month back at the estate. Eleanor had insisted on a portrait. In the picture, Richard and Paul stood in the back, their postures rigid and uncomfortable. Eleanor was in the center, her arms wrapped protectively around Kate, smiling with genuine warmth. And then there was me, standing on the far edge, looking like a stranger who had accidentally wandered into the frame. The Kate in the photo hadn’t gotten sick yet. Her eyes were bright, her lips curved into a beautiful, effortless smile. She wore a pristine white cashmere sweater that made her skin look like porcelain. I was wearing a cheap, ill-fitting red coat. Eleanor had pulled it out from the back of a closet at the last minute, mentioning it was something Kate bought years ago but never wore. “Red suits you,” Eleanor had told me before the photographer snapped the picture. But her eyes had never left Kate. I took the photograph out of its frame and placed it in the drawer with the medical documents. It was late. I lay in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. The walls of the apartment were paper-thin. I could hear the couple next door arguing, a baby crying on the floor below, the distant hum of traffic on the wet asphalt. These sounds used to make me feel overwhelmingly lonely. Tonight, they brought me comfort. They were proof of life. They were the heartbeat of the world. And my own heartbeat was a rhythmic reminder that I was draining the life out of someone else. The thought wrapped around my throat like ivy, pulling tighter and tighter. I sat up, switched on the desk lamp, and began to write a letter. I wrote incredibly slowly. Every stroke of the pen carried an impossible weight. I didn’t have a formal will to draft. Just a few words I never had the courage to say out loud. When I finished, I folded the paper, slipped it into an envelope, and left the recipient blank. 4 On the evening of the Kensington gala, Paul called me again. “Are you absolutely sure you aren’t coming?” He sounded drained. “Mom still thinks you should make a brief appearance.” “Isn’t Kate going?” I asked softly. “If I am there, she will just feel anxious.” A heavy pause settled on the line. “Good that you know. Just order yourself something nice for dinner. Don’t eat garbage.” The concern felt abrupt, like a forced pleasantry he remembered at the last second. I offered a quiet agreement and ended the call. The evening shadows crept across the living room as the city skyline ignited with thousands of golden lights. I stood by the window, gazing at the metropolis I had lived in for twenty-three years but had never truly belonged to. At seven o’clock, my phone buzzed. It was Eleanor. I hesitated, but my thumb ultimately swiped right. Her voice came through slightly muffled. The background was alive with the clinking of champagne glasses and polite laughter. She was already at the venue. “Did you eat dinner yet?” “I made your favorite lemon ricotta ravioli and froze a batch in the top drawer of the freezer.” There was an artificial lightness to her tone, a desperate attempt to keep things casual. “You should swing by the house and grab them. We are all out for the night anyway. Boil them up for dinner. Stop eating takeout, it is terrible for your health.” My heart felt as though an invisible hand had gently squeezed it. She actually remembered that I loved lemon ricotta ravioli. I had casually mentioned it once during the holidays last year. I never expected her to commit it to memory. “Okay,” I whispered, my voice thick. “Take care of yourself,” Eleanor said briskly. “Once Kate stabilizes a bit more, you can move back to the estate. I have kept your bedroom exactly how you left it.” “Thank you, Mom,” I breathed. Someone called her name in the background. She muttered a rushed goodbye and the line went dead. I stood frozen in the middle of the room for a very long time. I was never going to retrieve that food. By nine o’clock, the gala would be in full swing. I slipped into a simple black slip dress and stood before the mirror. The dress was off-the-rack and poorly tailored. The shoulder straps hung loose, and the waist swallowed my figure. The girl staring back at me was deathly pale, with bruised purple shadows under her eyes. I unzipped my makeup bag and carefully applied a layer of foundation. It couldn’t mask the exhaustion, but it brought a deceptive flush of life to my skin. I chose a deep, vivid crimson lipstick. It was a bold, aggressive color. It felt like a final declaration. Then, I sat on the edge of the bed and waited. Waiting for the end was a strange sensation. There was no terror. Just a bottomless, profound tranquility. I felt like a drowning victim who had finally stopped thrashing against the current, allowing the dark water to pull me down into the quiet deep. At ten o’clock, I stood up and took one final look around the room. Spotless. Empty. Barely any proof that I had existed here at all. I walked to the desk, pulled open the drawer, and retrieved the medical documents. I looked at the letter, hesitated, and left it inside the drawer. I only took the clinical forms. When I walked out the door, I did not look back. The hospital was eerily silent at night. The fluorescent lights in the emergency wing hummed overhead, occasionally broken by the squeak of a nurse’s rubber shoes. I approached the triage desk. The night nurse glanced up. “How can I help you?” “I am here to be admitted.” My voice was so steady it frightened me. She typed away at her keyboard and gave a brief nod. “Sierra Harrington? Please follow me.” She guided me through a maze of corridors into a private prep room. The next morning, a different doctor entered the room. She was young, female, and wore an expression of intense gravity. “Ms. Harrington, are you absolutely certain you want to proceed with this surgical intervention?” she asked. “Even though you have signed the waivers, we must verbally confirm one last time.” “I am certain.” “And you truly have no family members to notify?” “No,” I replied softly. “I am an orphan.” The doctor hesitated, a flicker of sorrow in her eyes, before she nodded. “Please sign here. The nurses will begin your prep.” I signed the final paper. My hand remained perfectly still. When they moved me onto the operating table, the surgical lamps glared down at me, burning my eyes. The anesthesiologist, a gentle older man, leaned over and whispered, “Do not be afraid. Just close your eyes and take a deep sleep.” I was not afraid. I closed my eyes, and my life shattered into a kaleidoscope of fleeting memories. I remembered the rainy evening before I was kidnapped. Eleanor was holding my tiny hand, walking me home from kindergarten. She had tilted the umbrella so far over my head that her own shoulder was soaked. I remembered the years in the foster system. The cold houses, the screaming, the backbreaking chores. I learned later that they treated me like garbage because they knew I was a stolen child. I remembered the day the DNA results came back. Richard looked at me, and there was no joy in his eyes. Only confusion, and a microscopic trace of disappointment. I remembered the first time I met Kate. She was wearing a flowing white sundress, looking like a jasmine flower in the morning dew. She smiled and said, “Welcome home, big sister.” I remembered when she signed the organ donation papers. No one warned her the aftermath would destroy her mind and body. She had just smiled and said, “If one of my kidneys can save my sister, take it.” The anesthesia was flooding my veins. The world was dissolving into static. The final sound I heard was the sharp, panicked voice of the surgeon. “Vitals are crashing! The surgical intervention is failing. She is letting go. Prepare to pivot to the organ procurement protocol based on her advance directives.” Hearing those words, a single, crystal-clear thought bloomed in my fading mind. Now, I am giving it all back to you. Her blood, her love, her health, her future. My debts were finally paid in full.

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1 During the awards segment of the annual charity gala, the host suddenly walked onto the stage leading ten young children. “Tonight, we have a very special award recipient,” the host announced, his voice echoing through the ballroom. “She passed away in a tragic accident, but before she took her last breath, she donated all her organs, saving the lives of the ten children standing beside me today.” In the front row, Christian Collier kept his head down, staring at his phone. Hearing the host’s words, he did not even bother to look up. “Who would be stupid enough to chase fame even in death?” Beside him, Gideon Harrison, a man known throughout the city for his philanthropy, let out a soft sneer. “To be buried with an incomplete body means the soul can never rest in peace. Her family must have been incredibly heartless to allow it.” He turned to Christian, half-joking. “Christian, once you marry my sister, you better not let her lose a single hair, or I won’t let you off easily.” Christian offered a faint, dry smile. He turned to his secretary, whispering quietly, “Find out which family this donor belonged to. Cancel all our current and future business contracts with them immediately.” On stage, the host’s voice rang out once more. “Now, let us invite the donor’s fiancé to the stage to accept this honor on her behalf. Mr. Christian Collier, please.” The entire ballroom fell into a dead, suffocating silence. Every guest froze, their eyes turning in absolute disbelief toward the front row. The host, still smiling warmly, urged, “Mr. Collier, please come up to the stage. You are entirely deserving of this beautiful legacy of love.” As the shock wore off, hushed whispers began to ripple through the crowd. “The donor was the Collier heir’s fiancée?” “But isn’t the Collier family engaged to the Harrisons? That would mean the donor is Gideon’s sister, the Harrison heiress.” “I thought Gideon was incredibly traditional. How could he possibly allow his sister’s body to be harvested like that?” Every single word drifted straight into Christian’s ears. The cold indifference on his face shattered, piece by piece. He snapped his head up, his gaze cutting toward the host like a blade. “What absolute nonsense are you babbling?” His voice was cold, practically laced with ice. “My fiancée is alive and well.” Gideon stood up as well, his face pale and furious. “No one in the Harrison family has passed away. Think carefully before you speak another word!” Terrified by their reactions, the host took a step back, quickly looking down at his cue cards. He checked the document three or four times, cold sweat beaded on his forehead. After what felt like an eternity, he spoke, his voice trembling. “Mr. Collier, according to the official records, the donor was indeed your fiancée, the daughter of the Harrison family.” “Shut your mouth!” Gideon’s eyes were already rimmed with red. “My sister is currently in Europe on her graduation trip. She sent me photos just two days ago. How could she possibly…” Christian turned to the host, his eyes dark. “I am giving you one last chance. Tell the truth.” Gideon, growing increasingly frantic, grabbed Christian’s arm. “Christian, call Vivian. Call her right now. What if something actually happened to her?” Christian pulled out his phone and dialed Vivian’s number. The line rang. Once, twice, three times. No one answered. His heart began to sink, heavy and cold. Gideon was also dialing frantically, over and over, only to be met with the same empty ringing. Just as their faces began to drain of all color, the phone suddenly vibrated with an incoming call. Christian answered it instantly. “Vivian!” The screen lit up to reveal a young, pretty face. Vivian was rubbing her sleepy eyes, her hair a messy bird’s nest, clearly having just been woken up. She mumbled sleepily, “Christian? Why are you calling me in the middle of the night? Did you forget the time difference?” Gideon shoved his face into the camera’s view, his voice thick with panic. “Vivian, are you okay? You scared me to death!” “Why wouldn’t I be okay?” Vivian blinked, a soft laugh escaping her. “I told you guys not to worry. It’s just a graduation trip!” Gideon breathed a massive sigh of relief, murmuring a few sweet promises before hanging up the call. Christian turned back to the host, his eyes devoid of any warmth. “Did you see that? My fiancée is perfectly fine. You will provide a formal apology to both the Colliers and the Harrisons for this sick joke.” The atmosphere in the room turned incredibly hostile. As the host stood frozen on stage, unsure of what to do, the oldest of the ten children, a young girl, timidly raised her hand. “It wasn’t that lady.” Everyone’s attention snapped to her. The girl bit her lip, whispering softly, “My dad showed me a photo of the lady who saved my life. Her name was Nora Harrison.” 2 The whispers in the room erupted like a sudden storm. “Nora? That name sounds familiar.” “Isn’t she the sister Gideon adopted a year ago?” “I heard a rumor that Nora and Vivian were switched at birth. Nora is actually the biological daughter.” “So Christian’s real fiancée was actually Nora?” I floated quietly behind Christian and Gideon, a bitter, hollow smile gracing my spectral lips. They were right. I was the biological daughter of the Harrison family, and by all rights, I was Christian’s true fiancée. Years ago, Vivian’s parents had intentionally switched us in our cribs. Vivian became the pampered princess of the Harrison family, raised in absolute luxury, while I spent eighteen years living a nightmare. My foster parents were abusive gamblers. Every time they lost, they took their anger out on me, using belts, burning cigarettes, and whatever else was within arm’s reach. I survived by digging through trash cans for scraps of food. Eventually, my foster father trapped me in my room, trying to assault me. I defended myself with a pair of scissors, wounding him, but they turned around and accused me of seduction. They beat me so severely I was nearly dead by the time the neighbors called the police. With the authorities involved, the truth of my birth was finally revealed, and I was brought back to the Harrison estate. I thought my misery had ended. But shortly after my return, both of my biological parents fell ill and passed away. My older brother, Gideon, blamed me entirely, believing I was a curse that had brought death to our parents. When Vivian packed her bags, weeping and saying she should leave now that the real daughter was back, Gideon’s resentment toward me reached its peak. He held her close, comforting her, before turning a cold, disgusted glare on me. “Vivian is my sister. Don’t even think about driving her out.” Gideon even dropped the charges against my abusive foster parents, paying them a massive settlement to secure Vivian’s legal status in the family. He never once asked how I had survived those eighteen years. I still remembered the icy indifference in his voice when he made his decision. “I’ve raised Vivian as my sister for nearly two decades. Revealing the truth now would destroy her. For now, we will tell the public that you are an adopted sister we took in.” Christian was the fiancé my parents had chosen for me in their will. But the first time he met me, I was wearing one of Vivian’s ill-fitting hand-me-downs, trembling as I greeted him. The sheer disappointment in his eyes was impossible to hide. I was consumed by insecurity, desperately throwing myself into learning etiquette, trying to become the perfect lady he wanted. But his gaze remained cool and detached. One afternoon, I overheard him speaking with Gideon. “I don’t know what our parents were thinking, forcing you to marry Nora,” Gideon had grumbled. “Everyone knows the only girl you love is Vivian.” Christian’s calm, level voice followed. “I will call off this engagement with Nora, no matter what it takes.” At that moment, my heart sank into a dark, bottomless ocean. Gideon didn’t want me, and Christian didn’t want me either. Now, hearing my name spoken aloud at the gala, Christian remained silent for a long time before offering a cold, indifferent response. “You have the wrong person. Nora Harrison was never my fiancée.” Gideon’s face went blank, followed quickly by a wave of deep disgust. “How could it possibly be her? She’d do anything to survive. Someone as selfish as her wouldn’t have the courage to die.” I was already a ghost, but my hollow chest still flared with a sharp, ghostly pain. Sensing the curiosity of the crowd, Gideon began to speak, exposing my supposed sins to the entire room. “On Vivian’s birthday, Nora threw a massive fit, demanding that Christian cancel his schedule to take her skiing. Christian had no choice but to go. While they were on the mountain, an avalanche hit. Christian’s leg was crushed, trapping him under the snow. And Nora…” He paused, his voice dripping with venom. “She ran away without looking back.” “If Vivian hadn’t arrived with a rescue team in time, Christian wouldn’t be standing here today.” Gideon’s voice grew even colder. “Nora spent all her time at home bullying Vivian, even though Vivian was always kind to her. She knew Christian loved Vivian, yet she clung to him out of spite. When he rejected her, she abandoned him to die in the snow and vanished. A person like that doesn’t deserve to be called my sister.” The host spoke up, hesitant. “So, you haven’t seen Miss Harrison since that incident?” 3 Gideon let out a harsh, mocking laugh. “She probably fled the country out of guilt. She knows what she did, and she’s too much of a coward to face us.” He added with deep disgust, “That’s just who she is: a coward who runs away when things get tough.” Christian said nothing. He leaned back in his chair, slowly closing his eyes. He remembered the moment the avalanche struck. His first instinct had been to shield Nora with his own body before the world collapsed around them. But when he finally woke up, she was gone. She had left him to die, exactly as Gideon said. All her sweet words, her gentle affection: they were all a lie. A sudden, sharp ache bloomed in Christian’s chest, and he clenched his fist, trying to push the feeling away. When Vivian had finally arrived with the rescue team, throwing herself into his arms and weeping, “Christian, I finally found you,” he had asked her, “Did you find the rescue team?” He had desperately hoped for a different answer. But Vivian had nodded, and the final spark of light in his eyes had gone out. “Never mind,” he had murmured. “It doesn’t matter.” He had looked at her with gentle affection. “Vivian, will you marry me?” The host’s voice broke his train of thought. “But have you ever considered that Miss Harrison didn’t run away? What if she died in that very avalanche?” The ballroom fell into a tense silence. The host continued, “Perhaps she didn’t abandon you. She might have realized that with your crushed leg, staying by your side meant you would both freeze to death. So she went out into the blizzard to find help, but met with an accident before she could return. Mr. Harrison, did you ever bother to investigate?” “What absolute garbage!” Gideon slammed his hand on the table, interrupting him in a fury. Christian merely stared at the host, his eyes cold. Floating above them, I could only manage a bitter laugh. Even a stranger could deduce the truth of my death, yet my own brother and fiancé refused to believe it. Before that ski trip, Christian had demanded to end our engagement. I had agreed, but on one condition: he had to spend Vivian’s birthday skiing with me. They all thought I was being unreasonable. But none of them remembered that Vivian’s birthday was also my birthday. I just wanted to be chosen, just once. When the avalanche buried him, I had clawed at the snow with my bare hands, digging until my fingers were shredded and frozen, completely losing all feeling, before I finally managed to pull him out. He was unconscious. I wrapped him in my coat and all my warm gear, leaving myself in nothing but a thin sweater, and walked out into the freezing storm. I walked for an entire day, collapsing and dragging myself up again and again, until I finally stumbled upon a rescue team. I gave them his coordinates. They told me to wait by the road while they went up. But less than ten minutes after they left, an out-of-control truck plowed into me. By the time I reached the hospital, it was too late. Before I took my last breath, I begged the doctors to harvest my organs, hoping that a piece of me could go on to see the spring I would never experience. The guests in the ballroom looked back and forth between Gideon and Christian, their belief wavering. If the host was right, then they had completely misjudged Nora. Gideon’s lips began to tremble, his confidence slipping. But Christian spoke up, his voice incredibly calm. “She isn’t dead.” Everyone turned to him. Christian raised his chin, his voice steady. “I have proof that Nora is alive.” Gideon turned to him, startled. Christian lowered his gaze, his voice dropping. “After she vanished, I received a letter from her.” 4 “In that letter, Nora explicitly stated she didn’t regret running away,” Christian continued, his voice dripping with cold mockery. “But she knew neither I nor the Harrison family would ever forgive her, so she planned to disappear forever. She promised never to bother me again, on one condition: I had to transfer five million dollars to her account. I sent the money.” Gideon’s face flushed with renewed rage. “We should have never brought her back to our family! She was a parasitic disgrace from start to finish!” Hearing this, the guests immediately turned their sympathy back to Christian, whispering insults about my memory. “This Nora was truly heartless!” “Five million dollars? She didn’t have a shred of shame!” “Honestly, she belongs in prison!” A barrage of ugly words rained down on my spirit. But on stage, the young girl spoke up once more, her voice trembling but fierce. “Don’t you dare speak about Nora like that!” Her eyes were red, her small body shaking with anger. She pointed to her own eyes. “My dad told me my corneas came from Nora. I can see this beautiful world because of her!” The other children began to step forward, their small voices rising in unison. “She gave me her kidney!” “She gave me her liver!” “Nora’s heart is beating right here, in my chest,” a young boy said, placing his small hand over his heart. “The doctor told me this heart belonged to a very, very kind girl. She was not a bad person!” Watching those ten children, seeing them healthy, alive, and full of hope because of my sacrifice, a soft, warm light seemed to wrap around my cold, spectral body. The crowd wavered once more, the children’s testimonies carrying far too much weight. Gideon clenched his fists, his lips shaking. Christian felt a sudden, suffocating pressure in his chest, as if a heavy stone were pressing down on his lungs. He forced himself to dismiss the feeling, his mind racing. Suddenly, a realization struck him. A confident, triumphant smile returned to Christian’s face. “Fine. If you all insist she is dead, then where is her body?” He scanned the room, his voice booming. “She only donated her organs. Her remains must be somewhere, right?” The children on stage looked at one another, their young faces blank with confusion. They didn’t know the answer. Christian let out a cold sneer. “There is no body. This entire story is a fabricated lie.” The room fell quiet, the tension stretching thin. Just then, the host’s phone buzzed with an incoming document. He tapped it open, his eyes widening in horror, his pupils shrinking to pinpricks. He held up his phone, his voice shaking violently. “Wait… I know where Nora’s body is.”

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My husband, a titan in the field of cardiac surgery, was on the coast with the woman he’d always loved, picking up seashells. I called him, again and again, my voice raw as I begged him to come back and save his own sister. His voice was a blade of ice. “Ivy, how dare you curse my sister? Why don’t you just die, you venomous bitch!” He hung up and blocked my number. His sister, Cassie, died on the operating table. And the entire family blamed me. They surrounded me, their faces twisted with rage. They beat me, broke my arms and legs, and dumped me in the deep woods to die. I screamed for help. Someone came. But he didn’t come to save me. He came to kill me. He stabbed me dozens of times. My last sensation was one of pure agony and despair. Then, I opened my eyes. I was back on the day Cassie was murdered. 1 “Oh my God, someone’s been stabbed! There’s a killer!” The screams of passersby swelled around me, a rising tide of panic. The crowd of gawkers surged toward the scene, a morbid curiosity pulling them forward. Only I remained rooted to the spot, my body trembling uncontrollably. The searing pain of a dozen knives plunging into my flesh felt so real, a phantom echo that served as a brutal reminder: I, Ivy Ross, had been reborn. In my past life, I had followed that same crowd, my heart pounding with a nameless dread. The victim was my sister-in-law, Cassie, lying in a rapidly expanding pool of her own blood. I frantically called 911, rode with her to the hospital, and paced outside the operating room. I did everything I could, but she still died. And her family, my husband’s family, decided her death was my fault. They circled me like wolves, their voices thick with hate. “You evil woman, Ivy! You killed my sister!” Grayson, my husband, had roared. “Beat her! Kill this walking curse!” They threw punches and kicks, dragging me to the floor. They broke my bones and then left me in the wilderness for the animals to find. I screamed for help, but the man who came wasn’t a savior. He was a monster who finished the job, leaving me to die in agony. This time, I wouldn’t get involved. I spun around, pushing against the tide of the crowd, and walked straight to the grocery store. When I got home with the bags, the first thing I saw was the pinched, cruel face of my mother-in-law, Brenda Pierce. “Where the hell have you been? A simple trip for groceries takes you all damn day?” Her eyes, small and sharp, darted to the sink piled high with dirty dishes. “What good is a daughter-in-law like you? Are you just going to stand there like a goddamn statue? Get to the kitchen and wash those dishes! Or do you expect an old woman like me to serve you?” I lowered my head, hiding the inferno of hatred in my eyes. My voice was as gentle as a lamb’s. “I’m sorry, Mom. Don’t be angry. I’ll do them right now.” The moment I stepped into the kitchen, her phone rang. “Yeah? Who is this?” she answered, her voice dripping with annoyance. A second later, that voice shot up, a raw shriek that could have shattered glass. “What did you say?! My daughter is in the ER?!” The phone clattered to the floor. It was as if all the strength had been sucked from her body. A cold smile touched my lips, but I rushed out, my face a mask of perfect ignorance. “Mom, what is it? What happened? You’re scaring me!” Brenda’s face was ashen. Her lips trembled as she grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my skin. “Ivy! We have to go! Now! Get me to the hospital! It’s… it’s Cassie!” 2 I drove Brenda to the hospital at a reckless speed. It was Metropolitan General, the very same hospital where my husband, Grayson, was a star surgeon. Outside the operating room, a nurse rushed out. “Are you Cassandra Pierce’s family? The patient has lost a critical amount of blood, and the wound is dangerously close to the heart. We need to operate immediately! I need a signature!” Brenda’s knees buckled. I caught her before she could collapse. Her hand shook violently as she scribbled her name, her voice choked with sobs. “Please, I’m begging you, save my daughter! She’s only in her twenties!” “Mom, don’t panic,” I reminded her, my voice clear and steady. “Isn’t Grayson the best cardiac surgeon in the entire city?” “If he performs this surgery, I know Cassie’s heart will be perfectly fine.” I pulled out my phone, making a show of dialing his number. “Don’t call him!” She lunged for my phone like a cornered cat, her eyes wide with panic. She knew. She knew Grayson wasn’t at the hospital. He was on the coast with his childhood sweetheart, Sophie Hale, living out a romantic fantasy. Before he left, he had made her promise that no one would disturb them. I twisted my wrist, easily dodging her grasp. “Why not?” I asked, my eyes wide with manufactured innocence. “Mom, don’t you want Cassie’s surgery to be a success? This is a matter of life and death!” The accusation hung in the air, and Brenda’s face flushed a deep, ugly red. “Don’t you dare curse Cassie! I… I just… I just think her condition probably isn’t serious enough to need Grayson to personally operate!” She stammered, her eyes darting around, refusing to meet mine. Just then, the OR doors swung open again. A younger nurse rushed out, her face pale with stress. “This is bad! The blade penetrated too deep. Our chief of surgery says this procedure is too complex. Dr. Grayson Pierce is the only one in the entire hospital who can do it!” The nurse’s eyes landed on us, a desperate plea in her gaze. “You’re his family, right? You have to get him to cut his vacation short. He needs to come back and perform this surgery right now!” I feigned utter shock, turning to the nurse with disbelief. “What? On vacation?” “Are you sure you have that right? How could my husband be on vacation without me knowing? He told me just last night that the department was swamped and he’d be working consecutive shifts for days!” The nurse looked confused. “I wouldn’t know the details. The chief approved his leave request. All I know is you need to contact him. The patient is running out of time. Any longer, and it might be too late.” Brenda’s world seemed to implode. The color drained from her face, and she swayed on her feet, about to faint. I grabbed her arm, my voice laced with panic. “Mom, stay calm. I’ll call Grayson right now.” In front of everyone, I dialed his number. Once. Twice. Three times. Ten agonizing calls, and each time, the same cold, robotic voice echoed from the speaker: “The number you have dialed is currently unavailable.” Of course it was unavailable. To ensure his precious time with Sophie was uninterrupted, Grayson had blocked me. I remembered it all too clearly. In my last life, I had called him forty-nine times from my own phone. I finally had to borrow a nurse’s phone to get through. I had wept, begging him to come back and save his own sister. But his reply was a snarl of irritation. “Ivy, just because you hate Sophie and you’re jealous that I’m with her, you’d make up a lie about my sister dying? You’re so fucking evil. Why don’t you just die?” He hung up. After that, it didn’t matter whose phone I used. He never picked up again. And so, Cassie missed the golden window for survival. She died. But her family laid the blame squarely on my shoulders. They claimed my jealousy had clouded Grayson’s judgment, preventing him from returning in time. The person who killed Cassie, they decided, was me. The memory of that suffocating injustice made my hands clench into tight fists. I fought to control the rage boiling inside me. 3 “Grayson, where are you? Please, just pick up the phone!” I cried, forcing tears to well in my eyes. Brenda looked at me, her gaze filled with guilt and avoidance. She tried to defend her son. “Grayson is probably… probably busy with something important. If you can’t get through, just wait a while.” Even now, she was covering for his affair. My heart ached for Cassie, fighting for her life just a few feet away. Suddenly, a commotion erupted at the end of the hall. “Cassie! What’s happened to my precious granddaughter?!” My father-in-law, Robert, was helping the family matriarch, Grandma Pierce, hurry toward us. She was over seventy, but her face was a mask of fierce anxiety. “Where is Grayson? Is he in there saving Cassie right now?” Grandma Pierce adored Cassie, who was the spitting image of her as a young woman. Don’t let her age fool you. In my past life, when they beat me, she had the strength of a demon, breaking two thick wooden canes over my back. I still remembered the bone-deep agony. This time, I would not let them pin this on me. I put on a pained expression, my eyes red-rimmed. “Grandma, Grayson told me he had to work overtime. But I just asked the nurse, and he’s not here. He’s not in the operating room. I… I don’t know where he is.” “What do you mean, you don’t know? What kind of wife are you? If you don’t know, why don’t you call him and ask?” She jabbed her cane toward my face, the tip hovering inches from my eye. “Grandma, I did call.” I looked helplessly at Brenda. “Mom, you saw me, didn’t you? I just called him ten times in a row. He didn’t answer a single one!” Brenda nervously twisted the hem of her blouse and nodded. “Yes… yes, she’s been calling…” The old woman’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Then it’s your fault! You must have done something to piss him off, that’s why he’s not answering your calls. Try your mother-in-law’s phone. Let’s see if he dares to hang up on her!” Now Brenda was truly terrified. Her hand trembled as she gave me her phone. “Dial it!” the old woman commanded. I took a deep breath, pressed the familiar number, and put the call on speaker. After two rings, he answered. “Mom, what’s up? Didn’t we agree you wouldn’t call unless it was an emergency?” Grayson’s voice was lazy, the sound of wind and waves clearly audible in the background. I took another breath and shouted, my voice trembling with fake tears, “Honey, it’s me, Cass—” “Ivy?!” His roar cut me off like a gunshot. “Are you fucking insane?! It wasn’t enough to spam me from your phone, now you’re stealing my mother’s? I told you I’m busy!” “No, honey, please listen! Cassie is dying! She’s been stabbed, and you’re the only one in the hospital who can save her! You have to come back!” My voice cracked with desperation. There was a brief silence on the other end. Then, a sweet, cloying female voice floated through the speaker. “Grayson, honey, I think you should go back. Ivy is obviously just jealous. To get you to leave, she’s actually lying about poor Cassie. It’s okay, I can pick up seashells by myself. You don’t need to stay with me.” It was Sophie. I trembled with fury, my nails digging into my palms. “I am not lying! Sophie, shut your mouth! Cassie is in surgery! Grayson, I’m begging you, please come back. Cassie needs you!” “Ivy, that’s enough!” Grayson’s voice exploded again. “There’s a limit to jealousy! To trick me into coming home, you’d stoop to a lie like this? Cursing my own sister? Aren’t you afraid of karma?” “Stop bothering me! I’m busy! If you screw up my promotion to department head, I’ll make you wish you were never born!” “Beep… beep… beep…” He hung up. I stood there, clutching the phone, fat tears rolling down my cheeks. My eyes swept over the three elder Pierces. Their faces were a mirror of shock, humiliation, and utter disbelief. Just then, the OR doors were thrown open again. The nurse’s voice was more frantic than ever, practically a scream. “Have you reached Dr. Pierce yet?! The patient’s heart rate is dropping, and we can’t stabilize her blood pressure! She can’t wait any longer!” Grandma Pierce looked like she was about to have a stroke. She snatched the phone from Brenda’s hand and shoved it back at her. “You call him! You do it now!” Brenda’s fumbling fingers dialed the number. After several rings, Grayson finally picked up. His voice, colder than ice and more toxic than poison, echoed from the speakerphone once more. “What the hell do you want now, Ivy? If you’re that bored, go kill yourself! Hang yourself, drink poison, there are plenty of ways to do it. Just stop fucking bothering me!” The blood drained from Brenda’s face. Just before he could hang up, she mustered all her strength and shrieked. “Grayson! Don’t hang up! It’s your mother!” “You have to come home! Your sister… a monster stabbed her through the heart! She’s on the operating table! The doctors say you’re the only one who can save her! Please, son, come home!” Dead silence on the other end. It stretched for a full five seconds before Grayson’s voice returned. 4 “Mom… why are you getting involved in this nonsense? “I told you before, Ivy is a jealous psycho. She’ll say anything to get me to come back. Don’t let her fool you.” Tears streamed down Brenda’s face, her voice a desperate wail. “It’s not a lie! It’s real! Cassie is on the operating table right now, and the doctors say only you can save her! Mom is begging you, son, please come home!” The line went quiet for a few seconds. The Pierces stared at the phone, a desperate hope in their eyes. But before that hope could take root, a soft, delicate female voice cooed through the speaker. “Ouch! Grayson, honey, I think a crab just pinched my foot! It’s bleeding! I need you to kiss it and make it better.” Grayson’s tone shifted instantly, filled with alarm. “Sophie, don’t move! I’m coming!” He tossed one last sentence into the phone. “Mom, stop playing along with Ivy’s games. She’s just trying to trick me.” Then, without a moment’s hesitation, he hung up. Brenda stood there, phone in hand, looking like a statue. Her hands trembled so violently she didn’t even notice her nails cutting into her palms. Robert finally lost it. A vein throbbed in his temple as he dialed Grayson’s number on his own phone. He roared into the receiver with all his might, “You bastard! Your sister is dying, didn’t you hear me? Get your ass back here and operate now!” His shout was loud enough to shatter the windows in the hospital corridor. The voice that came back was strained, annoyed, and furious. “Dad, you too? How can you believe Ivy’s bullshit? She’s just bored and needs to be taught a lesson!” I continued my performance, weeping silently and glancing at Grandma Pierce. Her face was ashen, her knuckles white as she gripped her cane, looking like she was about to snap it in two. “My sweet boy!” the old woman wailed into the speakerphone. “Grandma is begging you! I’ll get on my knees for you! Please, just come back and save your sister!” But the voice on the other end remained cold and distant. “Grandma, it’s not that I don’t want to. I’ve been drinking. I can’t drive right now. I promise, as soon as the alcohol is out of my system, I’ll head back.” “That’s all. Sophie hurt her foot. I need to check on her.” “Beep… beep… beep…” The dial tone tore their last shred of hope to pieces. And then came the final blow. The red light above the operating room door went out. The lead surgeon emerged, pulling off his mask. His expression was heavy with exhaustion and regret. “I’m sorry. We did everything we could. The patient was pronounced dead at [Time] on [Date]. Here is the death certificate. Please sign for it.” It was like a lightning strike. Grandma Pierce fainted on the spot, caught by a quick-thinking nurse. Brenda let out a primal scream and threw herself onto the gurney, clutching her daughter’s cold, stiff body and sobbing uncontrollably. Robert staggered backward, collapsing onto a bench, his face pale and his eyes vacant. And me? Of course, I had to keep up the act, my wails louder and more gut-wrenching than anyone else’s.

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It was the final event of my boyfriend’s company gala: the couples’ waltz. The familiar opening notes drifted through the ballroom. It was the “Serenade” waltz, the exact song we had danced to ten years ago at our college dance championship. Standing beside me, my best friend, Becca, gasped and covered her mouth. “Oh my gosh, Summer, this is your song! Ten years later, and Gavin has finally taken the hint. Do you think he’s going to propose tonight?” A soft smile touched my lips as I smoothed down my dress, taking a step toward Gavin. But before I could reach him, I watched him take the hand of a young girl and lead her onto the floor. They moved with seamless grace, perfectly in sync with the music. It was obvious they had practiced this countless times in private. The spotlight followed their elegant silhouettes across the room. I stood frozen in the dim corner, feeling like a dusty, expired relic. Gavin looked alive, his eyes bright with a spark I hadn’t seen in years. But he had no idea that this waltz was the very last chance I was willing to give him. Ten years. The waltz had expired, and so had my love for him. I pulled out my phone and sent a quick reply on my messaging app: Mom, I accept the arrangement with Nolan Sinclair. … “Summer! That little secretary did that on purpose!” Becca hissed, pacing back and forth, practically vibrating with rage. “I saw the way she looked at you during those spins. It was pure provocation!” I gently caught her wrist to stop her. “Let it go, Becca. I’m done waiting for him.” Becca’s eyes welled with tears. “Oh, babe. You deserve so much better.” As the music faded, the young girl walked over to us, her hand still tucked comfortably into Gavin’s arm. “Oh, Summer!” she chirped, looking at me with wide, innocent eyes. “I heard you were the waltz queen back in college! I’m so clumsy. Gavin tried to teach me a hundred times, and I still can’t get the steps right.” Gavin patted her head affectionately, a gesture so tender it belonged to someone coaxing a kitten. “You’re not clumsy at all. Besides, Summer only won back then because the competition was weak.” I swallowed the sudden tightness in my throat. With one casual sentence, he had completely erased years of my hard work. “I don’t dance anymore,” I said, my voice flat. “I’ve forgotten the steps anyway.” Sensing the shift in my tone, Gavin’s brow furrowed slightly. “You’re thirty years old, Summer. Don’t be petty with a kid.” I offered a polite nod. “Of course. You two were wonderful. Would you like me to clap for you?” Amber lowered her head, her lower lip trembling with rehearsed vulnerability. “Summer, I really didn’t mean to take up so much of Gavin’s time. But since you don’t work in the corporate world, you might not realize that social dancing is a necessary skill for networking.” Gavin nodded in agreement. “She’s never set foot in an office, so she wouldn’t understand. Don’t worry about it, Amber.” For the rest of the night, Gavin kept Amber glued to his side. He even intercepted drinks meant for her. “She’s just a kid, guys. Don’t make her drink.” I watched them, my mind drifting back to our early days. During the first year of his startup, I was the one drinking myself to sickness to secure clients for him, pushing through a severe alcohol allergy until my body literally went numb to it. I remembered him holding me by the curb as I threw up, his eyes filled with absolute anguish. Summer, you’ve suffered so much for me, he had cried, clutching me close. I swear I’ll give you the life you deserve. The vows back then were real, and his love was genuine. But just like that college waltz, it had a shelf life. And it had finally expired. “Get in,” Gavin said later, opening the car door. “I called a driver.” I slid into the passenger seat and immediately noticed the tilt of the backrest had been altered. When I flipped down the vanity mirror, a familiar tube of lipstick rolled into my lap: Dior 999, Rogue Red. It was a bold, crimson shade I never wore. The bullet of the lipstick was visibly worn down. In my mind, a vivid picture painted itself: Gavin driving Amber to a business dinner, her sitting in this very seat, applying this red lipstick while chatting away. But it wasn’t just the lipstick. In the glove compartment, there was an eyebrow pencil, a small makeup bag, and even a few personal hygiene pads. Amber was marking her territory, staking her claim piece by piece. Gavin had to have seen them, but he chose to look the other way. The city neon flickered across the window, casting a pale, exhausted shadow over my reflection. I looked drained, empty of the warmth I used to carry. “Gavin,” I murmured, staring at the glass. “Let’s end this.” He was sitting in the back seat, completely absorbed in his phone. He didn’t hear me. “It’s pouring out,” Gavin said into his receiver, his voice dropping to a gentle murmur. “You won’t find a cab at this hour. Go wait in the hotel lobby. I’ll come back to pick you up in a bit. Don’t catch a cold.” The rearview mirror caught his expression: tender, protective, and warm. It was a look that had once been exclusively mine. “Did you say something, Summer?” he asked, not bothering to look up from his screen. The blue light illuminated the sharp angles of his face, making him look distant. “I said, Gavin, let’s break up.” He finally raised his eyes. He froze for a second, and then a small, patronizing laugh escaped him. “Are you seriously jealous, Summer? Amber is dealing with a lot right now. I’m just trying to help her out where I can.” I remained silent, staring out at the rain. His tone took on a sharp edge of irritation. “Have you forgotten how hard it was for us when we first started? I’m just trying to be a decent person. Stop overthinking everything.” The car pulled up to our villa. The moment I stepped out, the tires screeched as the car reversed and sped off. He was in a rush to get back to Amber. He had worried about another woman getting wet in the rain, but he forgot that our driveway had no awning, and I had no umbrella. Drenched, I walked into the empty house. The first thing I did was turn on the stereo, playing that familiar “Serenade” waltz. I opened my cloud drive and found a video saved from ten years ago: our sophomore year dance competition. In the video, he was vibrant and young; I was radiant and full of life. I watched it to the very last frame, and then, without hesitation, I pressed delete. It was a quiet, final closing of a ten-year chapter. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Gavin. Amber sprained her ankle during the dance but didn’t say anything. I’m at the hospital with her now. It’s going to be late, so go to sleep first. Goodnight. I typed back a single word: Goodnight. In the past, I would have reminded him to drive safely, to hurry home, to text me when he arrived. Starting tonight, there would be none of that. I began sorting through the cabinets, pulling out old keepsakes. Among them was an unfinished oil painting from our days in the damp basement apartment. Gavin had started painting it years ago, trying to capture the two of us dancing. Seven years after graduation, the canvas remained half-blank. It was the perfect metaphor for our relationship. My fingers traced the dry, textured brushstrokes. Beside the canvas lay a half-empty pack of cigarettes. I had begged him to quit so many times, telling him it wasn’t healthy, especially if we wanted to start a family someday. He had always brushed it off. We’re not even married yet. We can worry about kids later. Perhaps he had never envisioned a marriage with me at all. I took a cigarette and lit it. The harsh, bitter smoke flooded my chest for the first time in my life. I ended up in a coughing fit, tears burning my eyes. Gavin was just like this cigarette: toxic, foreign, and never meant for me. Slowly, I pressed the glowing cherry of the cigarette directly onto the oil painting, burning a black hole right through his face. A sudden, intoxicating rush of relief washed over me. At three in the morning, the front door finally clicked open. Gavin walked in, carrying the faint, sweet scent of Givenchy powder: Amber’s signature fragrance. She was supposed to be a struggling intern, yet she was draped in luxury brands. I had chosen not to speak of these things, but it didn’t mean I hadn’t noticed. “Sorry I’m so late,” Gavin said, coming up behind me after his shower and wrapping his arms around my waist. “The ER doctor was a resident and took forever with Amber’s bandages.” I quietly shifted toward the edge of the bed, slipping out of his embrace. “Gavin, let’s break up. I’m not joking.” His body went rigid for a second, but then he pulled me back, locking his arms around me. He buried his face in my hair. “Summer, stop it. I know I shouldn’t have stayed out this late. But she’s my employee, and she has no one else in this city. I couldn’t just abandon her.” Another cheap excuse. But I didn’t care enough to argue. He let out a heavy, weary sigh, his voice softening. “Summer, we’ve been together for ten years. How many ten-year stretches do we get in a lifetime? You know you’re the most important person in my life. There is nothing going on between Amber and me.” “It’s not about her,” I interrupted. “I’m just tired, Gavin. It’s over.” If it wasn’t Amber, it would be someone else. When the love is gone, there is no point in pretending to hold on. Gavin’s patience snapped, and he sat up abruptly. “Summer! Why are you acting like a child over a little girl? I’ve already told you, you’re the only woman I’ll ever marry!” His eyes flashed with annoyance. He was done trying to soothe me; the facade was slipping. When we lived in that basement, he would save the best pieces of meat from his instant noodles for me, promising a beautiful future. Now, his company was public, the basement had been replaced by a sprawling villa, and his old bicycle had turned into a Porsche. And Gavin had become the very type of man we used to despise: arrogant, cold, and drunk on power. Was I supposed to be grateful that he hadn’t discarded me yet? “Gavin, you still don’t get it,” I said quietly. “I have absolutely no interest in being your wife anymore.” He stared at me, stunned for a few seconds, before his anger boiled over. “Summer, I have an exhausting job and massive responsibilities! Don’t try to use these petty threats to control me!” He threw his hands up. “Compared to the other guys in my circle, I’m a saint. At least I haven’t replaced you!” Even though I had already detached myself, his words still cut like a knife. It was proof that in his eyes, I was merely an object: an old appliance past its warranty, kept around out of sheer habit. He took a long, sharp breath. “Amber’s right. A woman who’s never had to survive in the real business world just doesn’t get it. You have nothing better to do than throw tantrums.” He stood up, grabbing his pillow. “Take some time to cool your head. I’m sleeping in the guest room.” I lay in the center of the massive bed, watching the city lights outside slowly fade into the gray light of dawn. The tears on my face had dried, leaving a tight, cold sensation. Did this man, who had lived with me for a decade, actually know me at all? He had no idea that I had built my own art studio and opened a gallery. He honestly believed I was just a kept bird, spending his money and waiting around for his return. It was almost laughable. Legally, his company and this villa had nothing to do with me. Yet he kept insisting he did it all for my sake. The next morning, I began sorting through my things, ready to purge my life of the past. Our college photos, the old dance trophies, the portrait sessions we had done years ago. I realized with a sudden jolt that for the last five years, we hadn’t accumulated a single shared item. Gavin came out of the guest room, dressed for work. He stopped when he saw the boxes scattered across the floor. “What are you doing with all this old junk?” You’re the junk, I wanted to say. But instead, I kept my voice neutral. “They’re just memories of our youth.” But those memories had died years ago. People change. The love we had back then was real, but so was the cold indifference of the present. A smug smile returned to his face. “I’m glad you’re finally being reasonable. See? Ten years of history. We have too much to throw away. Be a good girl, and once this busy season is over, I promise I’ll give you the most beautiful wedding.” He leaned down to press a brief kiss to my cheek. “Don’t worry, Summer. You’ll always be the most important person to me.” His steps were light as he walked toward the door, clearly believing the storm had blown over. “Gavin!” I called out. He turned back, his eyes carrying that familiar, easy smile. Ten years ago, he had looked at me the exact same way, pulling a cheap bouquet of roses from behind his back: a gesture that had cost him his entire week’s food budget. Summer, will you be my girlfriend? I promise to love you forever. I stood up, meeting his gaze with absolute clarity. “Gavin, I’m tired. Let’s break up.” The smile vanished from his face, replaced by a cold, familiar mask of superiority. “It seems you still haven’t cleared your head! I won’t be coming back for the next few days. I’ve clearly spoiled you too much.” The heavy front door slammed shut, the sound vibrating through my chest. It didn’t hurt. My phone lit up with a text from Becca. Summer! Look at what this little snake just posted! She is literally declaring war! A screenshot popped up. It was a selfie of Amber, her collar pulled down slightly to expose her bare shoulder. In the background was our kitchen, where a man wearing my pink apron was busy over a simmering pot of soup. Her caption read: It’s pouring outside, but the boss’s homemade soup keeps me warm. The comments below were nauseating: Amber, you’re so lucky! I had no idea the CEO could cook! She gets all the special treatment because she deserves it! There were dozens of likes. Most of them were people who had been with Gavin since the startup days. They all knew about our ten-year relationship. But in their eyes, I had already become invisible. I replied to Becca: It’s fine. Gavin and I broke up. Becca replied instantly: Good! That trash doesn’t deserve you anyway! It took me less than half a day to pack my life into boxes. A decade of devotion, reduced to a few cardboard cartons. Later that afternoon, I carried the old keepsakes to the backyard incinerator. As the flames took hold, the remnants of my youth turned into ash. Gavin began a silent war of cold shoulder. In the past, he would text me his schedule every day. Now, our chat was a desert of silence. Over the next week, I arranged for my belongings to be shipped to my new place and bought myself a new car: a clean start so I could leave whenever I wanted. The first message I received after a week of silence came from Amber, using Gavin’s phone.

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After I was brought back to my filthy-rich biological family, my adopted sister, the fake heiress, made it her life’s mission to destroy me. She framed me for pushing her down the stairs, accused me of stealing, and tried to snatch every penny of the shares our parents gave me. But I had mastered the art of the innocent facade. With a few perfectly timed tears and a soft voice, I turned the tables on her every single time. Even with my parents’ blatant favoritism toward her, I secured my place in the Wright family. That was until the day Dominic Blackwood, the most feared and respected CEO in Manhattan, suddenly proposed a marriage alliance with the Wrights. For the first time, the fake heiress didn’t fight me tooth and nail. Instead, she played coy, claiming she was too young, and eagerly pushed the engagement onto me. Backed into a corner by my parents’ relentless pressure, I had no way out. I started dating Dominic, and to my surprise, our chemistry was electric. Things were heating up fast. Then came the phone call. Dominic rang me up, his voice casual, saying his ultimate ‘best bro’ was returning from abroad and he wanted me at the welcome party. Serena, my fake sister, finally flashed me a wicked, victorious smirk. “You don’t know, do you?” she taunted softly. “Dominic’s little childhood girl-bro has ruined every single relationship he’s ever had. I can’t wait to watch you choke on this.” I just smiled. A ‘girl-bro’? Let’s see if this pick-me girl could survive a single round against someone who had turned playing the victim into an absolute art form. 1 The VIP lounge was pulsing with heavy bass when I walked in. There, sitting shamelessly on my fiancé’s lap in a plunge-neck dress, was the infamous female bestie. “Dom, baby, I have to spill a massive secret tonight!” she practically purred, ignoring everyone else in the room. “About us.” Dominic looked down at her with genuine fondness. “What secret, Jess?” “We’re actually married!” The room went dead silent. Even the background music somehow seemed to dip. Dominic froze. He shot me an incredibly awkward glance, but Jess grabbed his chin and forced him to look back at her. “Don’t tell me you forgot!” she giggled, slapping his chest. “That wild night in Vegas! The whole crew got trashed, and that little chapel priest legally pronounced us man and wife. On US soil, we are legally hitched, baby!” The air grew thick. Every pair of eyes in the room shifted to me, waiting for the explosion. “Married?!” I gasped, my hands flying to my mouth in a picture-perfect display of shock. The color drained from my face. If I didn’t give them a little drama, Dominic might actually think I didn’t care about him. The tension in the booth spiked to dangerous levels. Jess just looked smug. She leaned her head comfortably against Dominic’s shoulder and shot me a mocking look. “Relax, Penny babe. Dom and I have been bros since we were in diapers. Getting a little piece of paper together is just a funny story. No need to have a total meltdown.” I let out a soft breath, picked up a crystal glass of champagne, and walked over to her with slow, measured steps. “Penny, what are you doing?” Dominic instantly shielded Jess, his voice sharp. It was the first time he had ever snapped at me. “Jess and I just got a little too wild that night. I don’t even remember it happening! Could you please just be the bigger person here?” But the dramatic wine-tossing scene everyone was holding their breath for never happened. Instead, I crouched down slightly, my posture elegant, and raised my glass to Jess with a grateful, teary-eyed smile. “Jess, I honestly have to thank you. Thank God you brought this up tonight.” I turned my wide, worried eyes to Dominic. “Otherwise, Dominic would be committing bigamy! That carries a maximum sentence of up to five years in federal prison!” Dominic’s face cycled through three different shades of pale. It was a spectacular sight. Jess’s body went completely rigid. She awkwardly took the champagne glass from my hand, her smug smile cracking. “You’re overthinking it, Penny. It’s not that serious.” “Of course it’s serious!” I pressed a hand to my chest, my voice trembling with concern. “I double-majored in corporate law and criminal justice in college. I know these statutes inside and out. Unlike you, who just likes to play around without understanding the consequences.” I patted her shoulder gently. “But don’t worry. As long as you guys didn’t file the paperwork properly, the ceremony might be voidable. It won’t stop Dominic and me from getting our actual marriage license.” I leaned in, my voice dropping to a soft, maternal whisper. “Just promise me you won’t drag him into these messy legal gray areas anymore, okay? You could have ruined his entire life.” Hearing that, it was like Dominic had been splashed with ice water. He practically shoved Jess off his lap and moved to a seat on the complete opposite side of the booth, looking at her like she was carrying a contagious disease. 2 I immediately seized the moment, slipping into the empty space next to Dominic and resting my head timidly against his arm. For the rest of the night, no matter how many times Jess tried to initiate her usual touchy-feely games, Dominic kept a strict, polite distance. By the time the party ended, Jess was glaring at me with pure venom. Her eyes promised absolute war. Before she came back to town, Dominic had been the perfect match for me. His patience and gentleness made me feel like I could finally put my guard down. My adoptive parents back in that Ohio trailer park had hated me for being a girl. Then the wealthy Wright family found me, tossed my abusers a massive check, and expected me to just fit into their glittering, toxic world. My life in the Wright mansion was a battlefield. When you live under someone else’s roof, you learn to bend. I couldn’t afford to throw a massive tantrum over Jess just yet. If I pushed too hard and Dominic broke off the engagement, my standing with the Wrights would crumble entirely. But surprisingly, the Vegas incident didn’t ruin things between us. It actually made Dominic more attentive. Over the next two weeks, Jess tried to drag him out to bars and weekend trips, but Dominic mercilessly declined her calls, choosing to stay by my side. He was even secretly preparing an official, extravagant proposal. But a pick-me girl never rests. One afternoon while I was out, Jess actually chopped off her gorgeous long hair, rocking a two-inch buzzcut. She strutted right into Dominic’s office. “Dom! I can’t believe you’re getting tied down so soon. We need to go back to our old prep school and recreate our childhood photos! We’ll never get another chance.” She ran a hand over her shaved head. “I even cut my hair for this. Don’t I look just like the little tomboy you used to run around with?” Dominic had a soft spot for nostalgia. Seeing the lengths she went to, he got emotional and agreed on the spot. By the time the estate housekeeper texted me the gossip, Dominic and Jess were already wearing custom-made vintage prep school uniforms, running around their old campus. Jess wasted no time uploading a perfectly curated photo dump to Instagram. The caption read: “The Best Days. Just two bros against the world.” The pictures were highly intimate. Sharing a single pair of headphones under an oak tree. Him lifting her up to touch a basketball hoop. The two of them lying on the football field turf, heads pressed together. I stared at my phone screen for a solid minute. Before her little army of enablers could flood the comments, I typed out a perfectly innocent response: [Oh my God! Which cute gay influencer couple are you guys recreating? This is giving such pure, youthful romance vibes!] [Drop their handle! I definitely need to follow them!] The moment I dropped the words “gay couple”, the entire comment section froze. Nobody dared to type a single word. Anyone who actually knew Dominic knew he was a fiercely private, traditional guy. He had dealt with stalkers in the past because of his athletic build and absolutely despised having his pictures posted online without strict PR approval. Thirty minutes later, Jess’s photo dump vanished. Three minutes after that, she posted a frantic, angry text update. [Do some people seriously have gender perception issues?! Can you not tell when a girl is a girl?!] I immediately replied with overflowing concern: [Jess honey, what happened? Did someone mistake you for a guy? Tell me who it was, and I’ll have Dominic handle them!] [Everyone else read this carefully: Our Jess is one of the boys! Don’t you dare mistake her for a delicate woman!] She didn’t reply. Five minutes later, she deleted that post too. I found out from Dominic’s assistant later that day that the moment Dominic saw my comments, he realized how inappropriate the shoot looked. He forced Jess to scrub the post and made his assistant permanently delete all the raw files from the photographer’s camera. Those nostalgic school photos were supposed to be played in a montage during my proposal to humiliate me. Jess’s grand plan went up in smoke. When Dominic finally proposed, the weather was perfect. The event was so magnificent it made the front page of every Manhattan socialite blog. Everything was disgustingly beautiful. And the best part? Jess didn’t show her face once. 3 After the glittering confetti settled, I nudged Dominic playfully. “Why didn’t your best bro show up today? Where’s Jess?” His warm smile instantly dissolved into a dark frown. “I told her not to come.” “I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately, but just looking at her gives me a headache.” I kept my face perfectly neutral, while throwing a massive celebration inside my head. But I also noticed that Serena was suspiciously absent from my family’s VIP table. She had been acting weird all week, definitely brewing some fresh poison. Following high society tradition, I moved back into the Wright estate to prepare for the wedding. Dominic was incredibly clingy. He drove over every single day, lingering in my room, finding every excuse not to leave. I usually told him to visit when the house was empty to avoid any drama with Serena. But collisions are inevitable. One afternoon, Dominic and I were caught up in a sweet goodbye near my bedroom door when Serena barged in without knocking. “Penny, I brought you some fresh water.” She was wearing a scandalously sheer silk nightgown. She took three steps into the room, “tripped” over absolutely nothing, and launched herself directly toward Dominic’s chest. Having survived years of Serena’s cheap tricks, my reflexes were razor-sharp. I lunged forward and physically blocked her path. Realizing she couldn’t land on him, Serena masterfully pivoted, throwing herself hard onto the hardwood floor. “Penny, please don’t hit me! I’m sorry!” She burst into hysterical sobs, curling into a pathetic little ball. She kept shooting me these terrified, trembling glances, looking at me like I was a serial killer holding a chainsaw. Dominic was utterly bewildered. “Penny? I thought you two got along. Everyone says you take great care of your adopted sister. What is happening?” “I…” Before I could form a sentence, Serena crawled across the floor and desperately hugged Dominic’s calf. “Dominic, you have to save me! Ever since Penny came back, she’s been insanely jealous that I had her parents’ love for eighteen years. She beats me behind closed doors!” Sobbing violently, she hiked up her silk gown, exposing her thighs. They were covered in horrifying, dark purple and red bruises. “Please take me away! If you don’t, she’s going to kill me!” Dominic’s expression hardened. He took a subtle step back, firmly pulling his leg free from her grasp. But when he looked at me, there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes. “Penny?” I didn’t waste a single breath. I picked up the glass pitcher of water Serena had brought in, dumped it directly onto her legs, and scrubbed my hand harshly over her “bruises.” The horrifying injuries instantly dissolved into a messy puddle of purple and blue watercolor paint. “Penny, are you insane?!” Serena shrieked, pulling her legs back and glaring at me with pure hatred. “Serena,” I said smoothly, dusting off my hands. “You’ve spent years throwing yourself down stairs, burning your own clothes, and scratching your own arms just to frame me. Have you gotten completely lazy? You couldn’t even bother to give yourself a real bruise this time?” “It looks so fake it’s insulting.” Serena didn’t even flinch. “Dominic, I only painted those on so you could visualize the truth! It doesn’t mean she hasn’t left real marks on me before!” “She only stopped beating me when she realized she could climb the social ladder by marrying you!” “Before that, she abused me so badly my parents had to send me to a recovery clinic in Europe! I only just got back three months ago!” “And when I came back, I found out she stole my marriage! I was the one supposed to marry into the Blackwood family!” She cried beautifully, every word dripping with absolute agony. What a spectacularly twisted tongue. But Dominic didn’t immediately buy her performance. He just looked at me, waiting for my side of the story. I looked down at Serena and let out a soft, mocking laugh. “Those are heavy accusations. Do you have a shred of proof that I ever laid a finger on you?” “And funny you mentioned a European clinic. Weren’t you vacationing in St. Barts six months ago? Your flight records are public, Serena. Anyone can pull them up.” The tight lines around Dominic’s eyes visibly relaxed. I let my shoulders drop just a fraction. “As for the marriage alliance, didn’t you literally push it onto me because you wanted to play the field? Why are you suddenly acting like I held a gun to your head and stole it?” Serena suddenly stopped crying. She stood up smoothly, a dark, victorious gleam in her eyes. “So, Penny, you finally admit it? You never actually wanted to marry Dominic. This entire engagement was just you being forced into it, wasn’t it?” 4 Wow. So this entire, poorly acted circus with the fake bruises wasn’t about making Dominic think I was abusive. It was a convoluted trap to get me to confess on record that I didn’t originally want the marriage. Too bad she was playing checkers while I was playing chess. I smiled warmly and wrapped both my arms around Dominic’s bicep. “When you threw this engagement away because you wanted to stay single, it gave me the chance to meet the most incredible man in the world.” “Love grows the more time you spend together. Dominic knows how much he means to me.” I reached into my blouse and pulled out a delicate, vintage silver locket. “And by the way, Serena. Every single time you’ve tried to frame me over the years, I’ve caught it on tape.” “You know I never take this necklace off. There’s a micro-camera built right into the pendant. Everything you’ve ever done to me is safely stored on a cloud drive. Do you want me to play the highlights for Dominic right now?” “Let’s show him who the real monster in this house is.” Serena’s face went chalk white. She lunged forward, clawing at my neck. I effortlessly stepped out of her reach. “Give it to me, you bitch!” I let out a crisp laugh. “Relax, sister. It’s just a normal locket. I was just testing you. But look how fast your victim act fell apart.” “You! You manipulative psycho! Dominic, you cannot trust a word she says!” But Dominic was already looking at Serena like she was trash on the bottom of his shoe. He wrapped a strong arm around my waist and guided me toward the door without giving her a second glance. “Penny, I shouldn’t have let you stay here. Pack a bag. I want you living in the penthouse I bought for you before the wedding.” “Okay. Thank you, sweetheart,” I murmured, letting my voice go perfectly soft and grateful. As we walked out, Serena’s furious screams echoed down the marble hallway. “You just wait, Penny! I’m going to rip that fake mask right off your face!” With only two weeks left until the wedding, the two women who wanted me dead went completely off the radar. A quiet enemy is a dangerous enemy. I was swamped with wedding dress fittings, and Dominic’s schedule suddenly became incredibly demanding. Sometimes we didn’t see each other for days. Occasionally, he would bring me along to corporate dinners. Surprisingly, Jess was there, but she completely stopped playing the ‘bro’ card with him. Instead, she started aggressively flirting with Arthur Harrington, one of Dominic’s major investors. During a truth-or-dare game at a lounge, Jess ‘lost’ and immediately threw herself onto Arthur’s lap, attempting to take off his suit jacket. Arthur’s wealthy, hot-tempered girlfriend walked right over and slapped Jess hard across the face. Jess didn’t quit. The next night, she tried to corner Arthur at the bar, wrapping her arms around his neck. The girlfriend caught her again, this time smashing a vodka bottle over Jess’s head, sending her straight to the ER. For a second, I thought Jess had realized I was too tough a target and pivoted to ruining someone else’s life. But I could still feel her eyes on me, watching me from the shadows like a venomous snake. I had several dark theories about what she was plotting, but no proof. Until one quiet evening. I was sitting alone in my new penthouse, looking over the gorgeous property deeds Dominic had transferred to me, when my phone buzzed. A video call from Jess. I answered it. The screen was blurry and chaotic. It was aimed at crisp white hotel sheets, showing two naked bodies tangled together. The lighting was terrible. I couldn’t see the man’s face. My heart seized. Could it be… “Jess, what is this?” I demanded. The call abruptly disconnected. Dominic had texted me earlier saying he was having drinks with some investors. Was this it? Was his perfect, protective fiancé act just a lie while he was secretly sleeping with his ‘best bro’ the whole time? If they actually slept together, I wasn’t going to play the pathetic, forgiving wife. I wouldn’t spend my life fighting off his female friends. If Dominic crossed that line, I had my perfect excuse to burn the wedding down and walk away rich. I grabbed my keys, jumped into my sports car, and sped toward the private club to catch them red-handed. When I kicked open the door to the VIP room, Dominic’s tailored jacket was draped over a leather chair. But he was nowhere to be found. Only Jess was sitting there, nursing a drink, a bruise fading on her forehead. She looked up at me with a deeply satisfied smirk. “Looking for Dom, Penny?” “Where is he? Who was in that video? Was it him or Arthur?” “I’m not going to lie to you, Penny babe. Dom and I just hooked up.” She sighed dramatically, playing with the rim of her glass. “You know how it is. We’ve always had this crazy tension. We had a few too many shots, and things just… escalated.”

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1 Rumor had it my sugar daddy was tired of me and wanted to break up. Helpful and civic-minded as always, I immediately hopped onto a popular gossip forum to recruit his next replacement. In-network referral for my ex. Great performance, low maintenance. 30% finder’s fee. Serious inquiries only. Within a day, two thousand candidates had signed up. Left with no other choice, I created a massive group chat and auctioned off his private itinerary, letting them battle it out and compete for the position. Hounded and cornered on all sides by eager bachelorettes, my sugar daddy, Barrett, finally snapped. When he got home, his face was blacker than coal. “My darling, I gave you my primary black card. Was that not enough?” “Do you seriously have to monetize every single breath I take…?” … I had been with Barrett for three years, and he had finally grown tired of me. According to my undercover informant, Barrett had been sitting in a VIP lounge, casually playing with his lighter, when he tossed a dismissive remark to his friends. “Marry her?” “Where did that ridiculous rumor come from?” “I guess it’s time to break it off…” Hearing this tragic news, I didn’t waste a single second crying. I immediately logged onto my socials, determined to squeeze every last drop of value out of him before my eviction. In-network referral for my sugar daddy. Great performance, low maintenance. The man is a local billionaire, handsome, generous, mentally stable, drives million-dollar cars, and owns real estate worldwide. I am resigning from my post due to force majeure. Now selling his contact. Only charging a 30% finder’s fee. Serious inquiries only. Perhaps the title was a bit too blunt, but the post immediately drew a massive crowd of onlookers. Within half a day, two thousand people had applied. The comment section was pure chaos. Me! Me! Pick me! Give him to me!!! I have the least self-respect! Let me go first! With so many applicants, I had to create a giant group chat. After a quick preliminary screening, I gathered all the interested candidates. I’ve uploaded some of my soon-to-be-ex’s private files to the group folder. Please review @everyone. The chat erupted like a bomb. Holy shit, the admin’s boyfriend is Barrett?! Who? Who is Barrett?! A massive tycoon. Third-generation old money. I can’t say much more or my account will get banned… ????! Is everyone eating this good nowadays?! I’m currently serving a sugar daddy who is eighty and has terrible gas. I can’t take it anymore. Can I get priority, please… No way, first come, first served! I’ll put down a five-thousand-dollar deposit right now! Ten thousand! Fifty thousand! I just want a meeting. I’ll handle the rest myself @admin @admin. Let’s just auction off his itinerary! Everyone gets a fair, competitive shot!!! I stared at the screen, blinking. Sigh. This kind of money seemed significantly easier to make than a finder’s fee. As for Barrett’s itinerary, I didn’t even have to dig for it. Lately, he had been taking his “doting boyfriend” role far too seriously, sending me daily play-by-plays of his business trips, down to the exact hotel room numbers. All I had to do was copy, paste, and watch the cash flow into my account. This was brilliant! I immediately took action and posted in the group. We are now holding a bid for Barrett’s current hotel location. Highest bidder wins. If the winner defaults, it goes to the next runner-up. None of the women in this group were short on cash. The bidding war kept driving the price up until it reached nearly six figures. In the end, a girl with the handle PeachBunny claimed the prize, transferring several hundred thousand dollars without even blinking. Looking at her profile, she was an absolute stunner. Her skin practically glowed, and her feed was filled with yachts, private jets, and luxury galas. A high-class socialite. She was a world apart from someone like me, who took her sugar daddy’s allowance and spent hours debating which brand of cheap chips was the best value. Barrett was a lucky bastard. But that was none of my business. I was just a middleman making a tidy commission. The moment the funds cleared, I packed up Barrett’s location details and sent them over without a single ounce of hesitation. Once I made enough from this, I was going to retire back to my hometown and buy a farm. That night, to verify if my information was legit, the losing bidders camped out in the chat, waiting for PeachBunny’s live updates. Under the watchful eyes of thousands, she finally logged on at eight. I saw him. That single sentence sent shockwaves through the group. !!!!! It’s actually real! The admin is a goddess! Ahhh! If I’d known, I would have bid another ten thousand! How was he? Is he handsome? Did you talk to him?! Give us the details, please! Faced with the onslaught of questions, PeachBunny was happy to share. He’s incredibly handsome, way better-looking than any movie star. But he’s freezing cold. I pretended my heel broke and fell toward him, but he literally stepped out of the way, letting me slam onto the floor without even reaching out to help. Then he turned to his assistant and said, “The quality of this brand is garbage. Tell them to stop sending their seasonal collections to my girlfriend. I don’t want her twisting her ankle.” … The highly active group chat went dead silent. Oh no. This was directed at me! Barrett was taking his doting boyfriend act way too far! How was I supposed to run a business like this?! Since when did he ever pay attention to my shoes?! As my anxiety began to peak, PeachBunny posted again, offering some comfort. It’s fine. He probably just didn’t like me. We all still have a chance. This just proves how incredibly well he treats his woman. Once one of us succeeds, we’ll get the same treatment. It’s definitely worth investing in. I stared at my phone. Aww, Penelope was such a sweetheart! The atmosphere in the group warmed up again, and everyone began talking at once. Damn, my competitive spirit is fully ignited now. I want seasonal luxury collections delivered to my door too! Who doesn’t, sister! But he’s so hard to crack… Honestly, getting into Harvard sounds easier than getting into Barrett’s bed. True! Since the admin is resigning anyway, can you share some of your success secrets? Give us a roadmap. Great idea! We need a guide! Please! Agree! Please!!! Success secrets? I scratched my head, feeling a bit embarrassed. On the day I met Barrett, I had just been screamed at by my horrible boss. Fuming with rage, I had vowed for the two-hundred-and-fiftieth time to marry a rich man. Then, I turned around and saw Barrett. It wasn’t because of his expensive suit. He was just too handsome, practically glowing among a crowd of balding executives. In a fit of reckless courage, I grabbed a glass of champagne, chased him down, and splashed it all over his chest. When he finally lost his patience, he glared at me. “Are you trying to give me a bath?” I raised my hands, my eyes shining. “Hehe, can I?” Barrett was speechless. Perhaps he had never met anyone so utterly shameless. I ended up beating out a sea of models, actresses, and socialites to become his official “girlfriend.” Of course, in reality, I was just a kept canary. Looking back at Barrett’s family tree, not a single male heir had ever married a commoner, and I knew I wouldn’t be the exception. So… I really didn’t have any real secrets to share. But as the demands in the chat grew louder, and the girls began referring to themselves as the Billionaire Capture Alliance, I reluctantly typed out a reply. He seems to prefer classic drama plots. Like… throwing drinks on him. The good news: Thanks to Penelope’s glowing review, the alliance trusted me implicitly, and my business was booming. The bad news: Barrett was back from his business trip. Embodying the perfect spirit of a kept canary, I ran downstairs to greet him. The carved wooden doors swung open, the golden twilight spilling into the grand foyer, outlining his tall, aristocratic frame. But as he stepped into the light… His collar was torn, his shirt was wrinkled, and his coat was soaked with a mixture of wine, tea, coffee, and several unidentifiable stains. The entire man smelled like… a trash bin. I froze. Usually, the moment he walked through the door, I would throw myself into his arms. But right now, even my professional work ethic couldn’t bridge the gap. I took a step back, horrified. Seeing my hesitant expression, Barrett closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and surrendered to his fate. “I’m going to take a shower first.” I watched his retreating back, feeling a wave of silent awe. My clients were far too aggressive. I had to tell them to tone it down. If they drove my cash cow to his grave, who was going to pay my bills? After a shower, Barrett dragged me onto the bed. He was incredibly passionate, barely letting me catch my breath. But my mind was entirely focused on my thriving business. I wanted to check my messages. My phone on the nightstand was buzzing constantly. It had to be the girls clamoring for more information. My heart was in the chat room even though my body was in his bed. I reached out toward the nightstand. Slap! A large hand pinned mine to the mattress, completely cutting off my escape. “Maisie, focus.” Barrett frowned, his fingers tightening slightly on my chin as he pulled my face toward him. “I’ve been gone for days. Don’t you have anything to say to me?”

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