Category: English

When the school gave the coveted Ivy League Endorsement to the girl who bullied me, I completely stopped caring. State Physics Olympiad? Hard pass. Valedictorian speech? Nope. Statewide Honors Assessments? I handed in blank Scantrons! When the Chairman of the School Board came to inspect and specifically requested an audience with me? Oh, I definitely showed up for that. I walked right onto the stage and snitched: “Dad, the school is rigging the system.” 01 After the mock exam results came out, I proudly took the number one spot in the junior class with a near-perfect score. But what awaited me wasn’t congratulations, but the mocking gazes of my classmates. My homeroom teacher, Mr. Harris, called me to his office based on my transcript. Going in with me was Chloe Miller, the Vice Principal’s daughter. Seeing me, she shot me a provocative glare. The AC in the office was blasting warm air. Mr. Harris waited for us to sit down before cutting straight to the chase: “The Ivy League Endorsement has been decided.” His eyes drifted between the two of us, then he smiled and extended a hand toward Chloe: “Congratulations.” I waited expressionlessly for him to finish, then asked, “What about me?” Mr. Harris’s smile froze. “Taylor, I called you here to help you process this. I know you study incredibly hard, and you’ve won plenty of honors over the last three years. But your academic foundation is already rock solid, whereas Chloe…” I finished his sentence for him: “Whereas Chloe has average grades, bullies her classmates, and preys on the weak.” Mr. Harris: “…” Chloe flared up: “Taylor, what kind of bullshit are you spewing? Did I not teach you enough of a lesson last time?!” I shot her a cold glance. Her so-called “lesson” involved having her clique lock me in the bathroom, putting bugs and dead mice in my desk, and stealing my textbooks and throwing them in the dumpster. It wasn’t like Mr. Harris didn’t know about this. I pointed at her arrogant, entitled face. “Even with her like this, the Endorsement still goes to her?” 02 Looking embarrassed, Mr. Harris shot Chloe a warning look, then turned back to pacify me: “With your grades, you can get into any top-tier university in the country. But…” I interrupted him: “Didn’t the school bulletin state that the Endorsement prioritizes the number one student in the mocks?” Mr. Harris furrowed his brows. “That’s what it says, but you don’t really need the extra boost from the Endorsement, do you?” No, I did need it. Before high school started, I made a bet with my dad. If I secured the Ivy League Endorsement on my own merits, I wouldn’t have to study finance and could major in music instead. I refocused my gaze on Mr. Harris. “Over the last three years, I’ve won five national awards, sixteen state-level awards, and countless school honors. I consistently rank first in every single exam. Even with all that, the Endorsement still goes to her?” Mr. Harris instantly began sweating bullets, his lips moving but no words coming out. Chloe glared at me, raising her voice: “Are you annoying or what? He spelled it out for you! It’s just one recommendation. If you piss me off, I can make sure you never hold your head up in this town again!” I ignored her, staring fixedly at Mr. Harris. Until he finally snapped impatiently: “Rules are dead, but people are alive. The spot is finalized and can’t be changed. You should just focus on scoring a few extra points on the SATs. It makes no real difference.” I nodded, pulled my gaze away, and turned to leave. As I walked out, Chloe chased after me and called out: “Taylor! Some people are born on third base, and some strike out. If you want to blame someone, blame your dad for being a nobody!” 03 Walking out of the office, I pulled out my phone and called my “nobody” father. He didn’t pick up. A moment later, my dad texted me: “Just arrived at the embassy in DC. What’s up, my precious daughter?” I chuckled dryly and typed back: “Nothing.” I guess we were just mules to some people. My dad immediately transferred $5,000 into my account, adding: “Studying is hard work. Take this and treat yourself to some good food. Daddy has to go into a meeting. I’ll bring you souvenirs when I get back!” The warning bell rang. The moment I stepped into the classroom, I heard Chloe’s exaggerated laughter ringing out: “Ugh, it’s just an Ivy Endorsement, it’s not even a big deal.” The sycophants hovering around her looked at me with their noses in the air. “Of course it’s a big deal! It’s the spot certain people would kill for.” “Right? So what if she gets good grades? She still couldn’t beat our Chloe.” I sat down and prepped for class, acting as if I hadn’t heard a thing. After class, when Mr. Harris called me over to his desk, I walked right past him, deaf to his voice. He grabbed my arm, leaned in close, and said displeased: “Next Friday is the State Physics Olympiad. You’re going to represent the school. This is a state-level competition, and it concerns the school’s prestige. Prepare well this week. If you have questions, go see the physics teacher…” His voice wasn’t loud, but it was just enough for the whole classroom to hear. I gave him a passing glance and casually pulled my arm out of his grip. Then, using a much louder voice, I said: “I’m not going.” 04 The rest of Mr. Harris’s words caught in his throat. His small eyes behind his glasses widened in utter shock, looking as if he’d seen a ghost. It wasn’t just him; the rest of the class was stunned, too. “Is Taylor off her meds?” “Didn’t she use to love these competitions? Wherever there was a spotlight, she was there. What’s wrong with her now?” “Oh—I get it. She didn’t get the Endorsement, so she’s deliberately rebelling against the teacher.” “Tch, who does she think she is? Does she really think she can threaten him?” Mr. Harris snapped back to reality, his frown deepening. “Our school only gets one spot for this Olympiad. If you don’t go, who will?” I leaned against the wall. “Whoever wants it can take it.” “Taylor, this isn’t just about you! It’s about bringing glory to the school!” I rolled my eyes. “Who cares?” Mr. Harris: “…” His fingers were shaking with rage. “Taylor! Have I not prioritized you for every single competition? I gave you so many opportunities, and this is how you repay me?!” I almost wanted to applaud his thick skin. Just then, Chloe strutted over arrogantly. “Mr. Harris, if she doesn’t want to go, let me. I only dropped five points in the physics section of the mocks. I practice AP problems all the time. I can handle it.” Mr. Harris nodded. “Chloe is always so dependable. I knew I wasn’t wrong about you.” He then shot me a dirty look. “An ungrateful brat who bites the hand that feeds her.” 05 Once Mr. Harris left, Chloe glared at me viciously. I looked back at her, my expression blank and breezy. She frowned. “What’s with that look? You looking down on me?” Before I could answer, she sneered, “Don’t think you’re all that. It’s just a little physics competition. I’ll definitely place higher than you ever could.” Since I didn’t have a competition to prep for, my weekend freed up, and I finally went home for a visit. Only my sister-in-law, Jenna, was in the living room playing with my nephew. Seeing me, she asked in surprise: “Taylor? Aren’t you prepping for the Olympiad?” I shook my head, confused. “Jenna, how did you know about the competition?” “The State Physics Olympiad is tomorrow. I was invited by the Board to proctor the exam.” Jenna explained, then paused as if struck by an idea. “Since you’re home, why don’t you come with me?” “What would I do there?” “Don’t you want to try your hand at the paper? I heard they introduced two new problem types this year. It’s supposed to be brutally hard.” I was instantly intrigued. Besides music, my biggest passion was cracking impossible logic puzzles. That feeling of clearing the fog fascinated me. So the next day, I went to the testing center with Jenna. After the exam officially started, she cleared out a spare office for me to take the test. Right as the clock neared the end, Jenna pushed the door open, fuming, and slammed her keys onto the desk. My train of thought broke. I looked up. “What happened?” Jenna ran a hand through her hair. “Nothing major. Just a girl caught cheating.” I frowned. “Did you disqualify her?” “Not yet. It’s a tricky situation, and I didn’t want to disrupt the other students. I just took down her candidate number and I’ll report it later.” Jenna said casually, then picked up my fully answered test booklet. “Done?” “Pretty much.” Jenna took my paper. “Great. I have a meeting later, so I’ll drop this off with the grading committee while I’m at it. If you’re bored, just call an Uber and head home first.” 06 I walked out of the testing center and ran straight into Chloe and Mr. Harris. Mr. Harris took this Olympiad very seriously. He had personally escorted her to the exam, accompanied by several of her lackeys. They were laughing and chatting by the entrance, practically blocking half the doors. I had barely stepped out before they spotted me. Seeing me, they swarmed over like stray dogs spotting a bone. “Taylor, what are you doing here?” “I knew it. Talked a big game about not competing, but you’re actually dying of regret inside.” “Of course she is! First prize is ten thousand bucks. That’s enough to feed a broke bitch like Taylor for a whole year.” Mr. Harris didn’t stop their mocking. Instead, he reprimanded me: “I gave you a chance and you didn’t take it. What are you doing stalking us now?” I frowned. “Stalking?” Chloe demanded, “Yeah! Otherwise, how did you know the testing center was here?” I replied, “None of your damn business.” Chloe flared up. “I’m trying to be nice, don’t push it!” “Get lost,” I said. Her lackeys quickly jumped in to smooth things over. “Chloe, don’t sink to her level! She’s just jealous of you!” I glanced at the lackey and said flatly, “You get lost, too.” “…” Seeing that a fight was about to break out, Mr. Harris finally intervened. “Alright, enough of this. Chloe, how do you think you did?” Chloe’s furious expression instantly flipped into smug triumph. “I think I nailed it. The questions were super easy, and I finished way early. Getting first place shouldn’t be a problem!” 07 Her lackeys put on exaggerated looks of awe. “Wow, I knew you were the smartest, Chloe!” Mr. Harris’s eyebrows practically flew off his forehead. He patted Chloe’s shoulder excitedly. “I heard they added new problem types this year. Even Taylor wouldn’t have been guaranteed first place. Having this much confidence—you really make me proud!” Chloe smiled. “Mr. Harris, how could Taylor even compare to me?” She paused, then added in a dramatic, mocking tone: “After all, she’s just a sore loser.” I took a deep breath, turned around, and prepared to leave. Chloe’s mocking voice grew louder: “Taylor, running away already? Weren’t you acting tough just a second ago?” I let out an “Oh,” and said expressionlessly, “I don’t compare myself to livestock. It’s bad for my health.” Chloe: “…” I don’t know what she told her Vice Principal daddy when she got home. During the morning assembly the following week, Vice Principal Miller gripped the microphone and passionately praised Chloe: “Chloe Miller from the Senior AP class achieved absolutely outstanding results in the State Physics Olympiad! Let’s give her an early round of applause!” Thunderous applause erupted across the school. Her dad took the opportunity to drag my name through the mud: “Furthermore, I want to criticize a certain student who thinks she is above it all. She put her personal ego above the school’s honor, completely disregarding…” Before he could finish, a black SUV abruptly pulled up outside the gates behind the football field. Three men in sharp suits stepped out and strode onto the field. 08 Mr. Harris recognized them instantly. His eyes gleaming, he whispered to Vice Principal Miller: “They’re from the Olympiad Ethics Committee!” Hearing this, Vice Principal Miller immediately dropped the microphone, plastered on a desperate smile, and rushed forward. “Ah, you must be the officials from the State Board! Welcome to our campus.” The three men shook his hand with cool detachment. The lead investigator spoke up: “We are members of the Olympiad Ethics and Grading Committee. We came to your school today to find someone.” Because the microphone was still on, their conversation faintly reached the ears of the student body. Miller, perhaps intentionally, flushed red with excitement. “Who are you looking for?” “Chloe Miller.” Miller put on a ‘just as I thought’ expression and roared into the microphone: “Chloe! Come up here, quick!” Chloe puffed out her chest and proudly marched over to Miller’s side under the gaze of the entire school. As she walked past me, she let out a cold snort. The three men confirmed her identity, then announced: “The results of yesterday’s Physics Olympiad have been finalized. Regarding the student Chloe Miller, we…” Before they could finish, Miller interrupted them, unable to hide his excitement: “I know, I know! You must be here to personally congratulate Chloe! It’s so much trouble for you to make the trip. Chloe has always been an exceptional kid, so taking first place was entirely within our expectations…” The more the three investigators listened, the more bewildered they looked. Finally, unable to take it anymore, they cut Miller off: “Please let us finish!” “Yes, yes, go ahead.” The lead investigator pulled out a formal document: “Following a review by the Ethics Committee, Chloe Miller was found cheating during yesterday’s Physics Olympiad. We are canceling her score, issuing formal disciplinary action, and delivering a state-wide notice of censure.” “…” 09 Miller’s eyes went wide in disbelief. “Impossible! How could my daughter possibly cheat?!” The investigator frowned impatiently and shoved the disciplinary notice into his hands. “This is the official ruling. If you wish to dispute it, you can file an appeal with the State Board of Education.” That was what they said, but delivering a major disciplinary notice in person meant there was a zero percent chance of an error. As they turned to leave, Miller’s face cycled through shades of red, white, and green. He reached out to block them. “What exactly happened? There were two proctors in that room and four security cameras. If she was really cheating, why wasn’t she disqualified on the spot? Why wait until now to issue a ruling?” The investigator glanced at Chloe and said meaningfully: “You’ll have to ask your daughter about that. She’s young but full of ideas. Hiding a micro-receiver inside a hair clip? If she used that cleverness for good, she’d be brilliant.” Miller whipped around to look at Chloe. “A receiver?!” Over two thousand pairs of eyes across the school zeroed in on Chloe simultaneously. What was supposed to be a commendation ceremony had turned into a public execution. Chloe’s face was as white as a sheet. She stammered, “I… I don’t know anything about a receiver!” “Save the excuses. All the evidence has been handed over to the police for the record. Young lady, do we need to take you down to the precinct?” Hearing the word “precinct,” Chloe couldn’t utter another word of defense. She dropped to her knees in front of her father. “Dad! It wasn’t me! It was my friends’ idea!” Miller gritted his teeth. He wanted to scream at her, but with the entire school watching, he could only manage: “Get back to your class!” Chloe hung her head in shame and slinked back to the line. A teacher from the neighboring class, who had always hated Mr. Harris, laughed sarcastically: “I thought that Chloe girl from your class was going to make headlines! Well, she certainly made headlines.” Mr. Harris: “…” At that moment, I had to try my hardest to think about my dead grandmother just to keep myself from bursting out laughing. 10 After the morning assembly, Chloe was taken away by her father and never returned to the classroom. By noon, the fallout from Chloe’s disciplinary action was announced. She was suspended pending investigation and barred from returning to campus for the foreseeable future. As her escorting teacher, Mr. Harris had his entire semester bonus docked. Infuriated, Mr. Harris threw a massive tantrum during the afternoon class, making passive-aggressive remarks and pinning the blame entirely on me: “Running into this mess out of nowhere—what horrible luck! If we hadn’t swapped candidates, I wouldn’t have suffered this injustice!” The students in the front row were too terrified to breathe. I, however, lazily propped up my blazer to make a comfortable pillow, resting my head on it, and nodded in profound agreement: “You’re totally right, Mr. Harris! If we hadn’t swapped candidates, everything would have been perfect!” When he said “swap candidates,” he meant the Physics Olympiad. When I said it, I meant the Ivy League Endorsement. Realizing what I meant, his face grew even uglier. He pointed a finger at me and exploded: “Who asked you to interrupt when I’m speaking?! Taylor, I used to think you were a good student, but your attitude is atrocious! Get out into the hallway!” I grabbed my jacket, stood up, and walked out. The door slammed heavily behind me. Three minutes later, I knocked and opened it again. Mr. Harris’s face was dark. “What do you want now?!” I stepped aside, revealing a handsome, clean-cut boy standing in the doorway. “Someone’s looking for you.” 11 Mr. Harris’s fierce glare instantly morphed into fawning flattery the second he saw the boy. “Liam! What brings you here?” The moment he said that, a commotion rippled through the classroom: “Holy shit, it’s Liam Vance from Oakridge Prep! Are you serious?!” “Ahhh! It’s him! My crush! He’s rich, smart, and gorgeous! He was literally on national TV last year!” Liam stood in the doorway, his expression cool but polite. “Hello, sir. I’m looking for a student in your class.” Mr. Harris’s smile widened, practically beaming like a spring breeze. “Who are you looking for?” Who in their class could possibly be worth a personal visit from this elite young master? I leaned against the wall, casually listening as Liam enunciated every syllable: “Taylor Sterling.” Mr. Harris’s smile froze. I looked at Liam in confusion. The silence stretched for about five seconds before Liam politely added: “I heard she’s in your class. Could you ask her to step out?” Instantly, Mr. Harris’s eyes darted between Liam and the empty air, filled with disbelief and awkwardness. After a long pause, he retracted his gaze, his eyelid twitching violently. “Why are you looking for Taylor? Did she cause some kind of trouble?” “No.” Liam denied it with a strange look on his face. He thought for a few seconds, then pulled a folded test paper from his backpack. “I just wanted to ask her about her thought process for the final question on this physics exam.” Mr. Harris: “…” 12 Mr. Harris snatched the paper from Liam’s hand and inspected it closely. “What test is this?” Liam answered, “The State Physics Olympiad.” Mr. Harris’s eyes widened in shock. “You must be mistaken. Taylor didn’t even participate in the Olympiad. How could she possibly solve a question like this!” Liam frowned, looking slightly displeased. “It’s impossible that I’m mistaken. I got a copy of this directly from my uncle on the grading committee. The difficulty of this year’s exam was insanely high. Only Taylor managed to solve the final section of the last problem. I definitely didn’t remember the name wrong.” He finished, then looked at Mr. Harris suspiciously. “Are you sure Taylor isn’t in your class?” The sheer volume of information in Liam’s words was too much for Mr. Harris’s pig brain to process. He couldn’t fathom how I had managed to take the exam. Hearing Liam’s questioning tone, he instinctively argued back, “Of course Taylor is in my class.” “Then where is she?” Mr. Harris shifted his gaze back to me, his lips moving soundlessly. The next second, I tapped Liam on the shoulder from behind. “Hey, looking for me?” Liam’s calm demeanor cracked for a split second. He looked at me, scanned me up and down, and asked, “You’re Taylor?” “Yep.” “What are you doing out in the hallway?” I flashed a light smile. “Oh, getting punished. Couldn’t you tell?” “…” 13 Liam and I crouched together in the corner of the hallway outside the classroom as I explained my thought process for the problem. No matter how much Mr. Harris beckoned him to come inside and sit down, Liam rejected him with a deadpan, “No thanks.” He even threw in a veiled insult: “If Taylor has to squat out here, I can too.” It turned Mr. Harris’s face the color of liver. Near the end of the period, I finally finished explaining the solution. Before leaving, Liam asked for my number: “The Statewide Honors AP Assessments are coming up soon. We can discuss practice problems.” I gave him my number. Liam carefully saved it in his phone, then gave me a meaningful look. “Your homeroom teacher really doesn’t like you, huh?” I let out an “Huh?” “Is it that obvious?” He didn’t answer, but a faint smile touched his lips. “I think I get the picture.” “Hmm?” “Nothing. See you around.” I didn’t understand what Liam meant at the time. It wasn’t until two weeks later, when I saw Liam in our grand auditorium, that I finally understood what his “See you around” meant. The seven elite prep schools in the state held a joint academic assessment every year. Before the exams, to boost morale, they organized a seminar featuring the top 100 students from each school. This year, our school was hosting. Each school was expected to send an outstanding student representative to give a speech. Oakridge Prep sent Liam. As for our school… I stared at the pot-bellied Dean of Students, who was desperately trying to comb his combover over his bald spot, and said blankly: “A representative speech? You could have asked me earlier.”

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After the story about my ex-boyfriend and me went viral, the internet lost its collective mind. Everyone said we were the absolute pinnacle of tragic Hollywood romances. Then, his “first love” stepped in to debunk the rumors, claiming I was just pulling a publicity stunt. My ex-boyfriend even retweeted her post: [It’s fake. Unrelated people, please respect yourselves.] Later, we ran into each other at an industry dinner. Someone accidentally brought up how I had once drank myself into the ER with stomach bleeding just to secure an audition for him. It was a role he always believed his first love had gotten for him. The color drained from his face instantly. He stared at me in sheer disbelief. People around us murmured that it wasn’t worth it, asking if I regretted it. My ex-boyfriend looked at me, his eyes swimming with complex emotions. I thought about it, then gave a peaceful smile. “I don’t regret it. I let it go a long time ago.” 1 The internet dug up some old, bittersweet moments between me and my ex-boyfriend. It was a video from three years ago. I had just won the Best Newcomer award at the Golden Globes. During the red carpet interview, a reporter asked if I had anything I wanted to say. I was holding up my dress with my left hand and clutching my trophy in my right. I sneaked a glance at Liam Hayes, who was standing off to the side. He had just debuted back then. He was an unknown rookie, standing alone in a corner while everyone ignored him. I flashed a bright smile and whispered into the mic, “That’s my boyfriend. He’s incredibly talented, and one day, he’s going to be an amazing actor!” Snow had started falling on the red carpet. A few white flakes caught on my eyelashes as I pressed my hands together in a pleading gesture. “Please take good care of him for me!” The video was set to a heartbreakingly beautiful soundtrack. The fans had also spliced in footage of Liam winning his Best Actor Oscar years later. He was giving his acceptance speech. “I want to thank the person who means the most to me. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t be standing here today.” As he spoke, he looked emotionally into the audience, his voice thick with suppressed feeling. “Thank you for always staying by my side. I hope we can keep walking this path together for the rest of our lives.” The comments section was flooded: [Omg, my heart! I want to cry!] [When Chloe Miller was having her biggest moment, she didn’t promote herself, she asked everyone to look out for Liam. She loved him so much!] [It’s definitely a two-way street! Liam actually became the amazing actor she said he’d be, and he even thanked her when he won his Oscar. Look at his eyes, he’s so in love!] [He finally became the great man you said he would be, but he lost you… Why did they break up?! This is the most tragic romance ever. This old tea is killing me!] … The video swept across every major platform. In an instant, Liam’s and my names shot to the top three trending topics on Twitter. Honestly, the editing was masterful. The internet is full of hidden talents. Even I couldn’t help but sigh. If I wasn’t the main character, I probably would have been moved to tears too. But only I knew the truth: Liam’s “thank you” during his speech was never meant for me. The person he was talking about was his first love. 2 I broke up with Liam on the exact day he won his Oscar. Looking back, I genuinely thought he was thanking me during his speech. I even contributed a tearful reaction shot for the cameras. After all, for his sake, I might not have walked through fire, but I definitely gave it everything I had. When he was a rookie with zero connections, I used every favor I had to get him auditions. I even split my own agent’s time to manage him. Just to get him some screen time, I slashed my own asking price to secure a package deal where he could join the cast with me. Good roles are almost impossible to land in this industry. Every newcomer is fighting tooth and nail to break out. To help him secure a crucial supporting role, I was pressured by a sleazy director to drink shot after shot until my stomach started bleeding. I was rushed to the ER that same night. But I thought it was all worth it. I have to admit, Liam was incredibly talented. Plus, he was stunningly handsome. Even in an industry full of beautiful people, he stood out. That supporting role catapulted him to stardom! He became the new “It Boy.” For a while, he was untouchable, drowning in script offers. His striking face, paired with his cold, untouchable aura, had young fans losing their minds. In just a few days, his followers skyrocketed past ten million. But that night, after the award ceremony ended and the after-party was winding down, I walked out of the restroom trying to clear my head from the champagne. And I saw him hugging Olivia Vance. The harsh, cold lights froze me in place. I stood perfectly still, watching them share an intimate kiss. Olivia was Liam’s first love. They had been together since high school and dated for over five years. She was also an actress. Later, because her agency had a strict no-dating clause, they were forced to break up. I had always suspected that Liam only entered the entertainment industry because of her. I watched Liam. His lips carried a faint smile, his expression so tender it looked like he was melting. He looked completely satisfied as he buried his chin in the crook of Olivia’s neck. I had never seen him make that face before. Around me, he was always serious and cold. In that moment, I finally understood. In love, hard work is the most useless thing in the world. Everything I had done over the years was just me making a fool of myself. His heart was entirely occupied by someone else. No matter how much I threw myself at him, it was a waste of time. Standing under the lights, they looked perfect together, like a matched set. Even I couldn’t help but feel that he belonged with her. So that night, I broke up with Liam. The breakup was messy. I was young and impulsive. Love and hate existed on a razor’s edge. I lost control, calling him an ungrateful bastard. I said raising a dog would have been better than raising him. I told him I was blind for ever dating him, and that looking at him made me sick! Liam fired back, accusing me of playing the martyr. He said he never needed me running around playing his manager, and that from start to finish, he had never actually liked me! In the very end, I couldn’t hold back my tears. With red eyes and a trembling voice, I asked him: “So, when you won that award… who exactly were you thanking?” He clenched his jaw and turned his head away. After a long pause, he said coldly, “Olivia, obviously. Did you think it was you? “Stop flattering yourself.” “I understand,” I said, wiping the tears from my face, my voice quiet. “Liam, we’re done.” 3 That was already a year ago. I was miserable for a while back then. Not only did I feel completely unlovable, but I also felt like all my sacrifices had been fed to the dogs. I drank too much a few times and lived in a haze for weeks. But now, I felt like I had finally moved on. When I saw the viral video again, I just smiled and sighed to my agent: “Look how stupid I was back then. “Liam was standing right next to me, completely ignoring me, and I was still acting like an idiot, begging everyone to take care of him.” My agent sighed. “Everyone runs into a few toxic guys when they’re young—” Suddenly, her face drained of color. “Olivia just tweeted!” I hadn’t caught on yet. “What did she say?” My agent’s brow furrowed tightly. “She’s saying you’re using this for PR. She says Liam was thanking her!” I opened Twitter and saw that Olivia had quote-tweeted the viral video of Liam and me, commenting: [Wow, great editing, even I almost shipped it! But the person Liam was thanking back then was actually me lol. Not trying to take up everyone’s timeline, but I really hope people stop with these shameless PR stunts!] A few minutes later, Liam quote-tweeted her post. [Shipping everything you see will only hurt you. I was always thanking Olivia. Unrelated people, please respect yourselves.] Unrelated people. My agent was standing next to me, cursing him out at the top of her lungs, but I just stared at those words until my eyes burned and stung. So, in his heart, I was always just an… unrelated person. Those whispered secrets, those late-night conversations, the laughter, and the tears. It turned out it was all just a one-woman show. “What do we do?!” I gave a bitter smile. “There’s nothing we can do. What she’s saying is the truth. Liam really wasn’t thanking me.” My agent panicked. “But now she’s starting a smear campaign! She’s claiming you were the other woman, that you swooped in while she and Liam were fighting. She’s calling you a homewrecker!” Sure enough, coordinated troll accounts started flooding the comments. [Are people really shipping a homewrecker? Liam and Olivia have been together since college. Chloe Miller is a shameless bitch who swooped in when they were on a break!] [Right? Do people just not fact-check anymore? Homewreckers should go die, seriously.] [Chloe Miller needs to get canceled. How does she have the nerve to pull a PR stunt after ruining their relationship? Disgusting!] … Within a few hours, massive waves of troll accounts started controlling the narrative in my comments. These accounts were all newly registered, some not even having profile pictures. They had zero proof, but they were relentlessly spamming the narrative. But the internet loves drama, and they don’t care about logic. Many people actually believed I was a homewrecker. They flooded my mentions with abuse and even went to the page of my upcoming TV show, spamming the director to recast me. No matter how much I tried to explain on Twitter, no one believed me. They didn’t need the truth; they just needed a target to vent their anger on. My agent was pulling her hair out in frustration. “A few brand sponsors just called me asking what’s going on. I managed to stall them, but you need to call Liam right now and make him clear this up! “You two started dating a long time after they broke up! He knows the truth better than anyone!” She was right. If Liam just said one sentence, I’d be fine. But would he really help me? After hesitating for a moment, I dialed the number I hadn’t called in a year. “The number you have dialed is currently powered off. Please try again later…” I froze, listening to the cold, automated voice. Liam had just tweeted a few minutes ago. How could his phone be off? A sharp, piercing pain started spreading through my chest. I offered my agent a tragic smile. “It’s no use. He blocked me.” 4 When it rains, it pours. The director of the TV series I was currently prepping for called. Over the phone, he stammered awkwardly: “Chloe, listen, I just feel like this role isn’t the right fit for you anymore. Let’s just pass on this one, and we’ll definitely collaborate next time…” I stood there, holding the phone, completely stunned. This show was my biggest project of the year. I loved the lead character’s arc, and I had fought incredibly hard to secure the role. To make sure I nailed the performance, I had turned down every other offer for the past six months to focus solely on studying the script at home. I panicked. “Director Reynolds, we already signed the contract! “And this isn’t our first time working together. You know my work ethic. How could you recast me over some baseless internet rumors?” Besides, if they recast the lead right now, wouldn’t that just solidify the rumor that I was a homewrecker? Director Reynolds sounded conflicted. “I know you’re professional, Chloe. But… did you offend someone? The production studio explicitly called and told us to replace you! “You know I have no choice here! “But listen, I’m setting up a dinner tonight. You can come and try to beg them. See if they’re willing to reconsider.” I wiped a hand over my face. “Fine. I understand. Thank you, Director Reynolds.” … The next day, I nervously arrived at the dinner Director Reynolds had set up. But the moment I walked through the door, I froze. Sitting in the massive VIP room, at the head of the table, wasn’t some fat, balding studio executive. It was someone I recognized so well I could spot his ashes in a pile of dust. Liam Hayes. He was wearing a tailored navy-blue suit, the top two buttons of his white shirt undone. Under the shimmering crystal chandelier, his flawless features looked almost unreal. He sat there like an icy, untouchable god. Director Reynolds clearly hadn’t expected that the investment firm backing the show belonged to Liam either. He shot me an apologetic, awkward smile. It made sense. Liam’s asking price was astronomical now. He was a brilliant actor with the face of a pop idol. Any movie with his name attached was guaranteed box-office gold. His schedule was booked solid for the next two years. He had probably made a fortune and started his own production company. I had worked with Director Reynolds multiple times and we were somewhat friendly. He was willing to do me a solid, trying to smooth things over with Liam with a smile. “Liam, this is Chloe, our former female lead. You guys are probably familiar, so I won’t bother introducing you. “I brought her here today so she could properly apologize for however she offended you in the past. She’s young and made mistakes. She’s had a tough time these past few years, please don’t hold it against her…” “Chloe.” Director Reynolds waved me over. “Come on, let’s offer a toast to Liam.” I walked over stiffly. Director Reynolds shoved a glass of whiskey into my hand. Liam just stared at me blankly, his expression full of contempt. “Hurry up, Chloe!” Director Reynolds urged. I held the glass, standing there frozen like a statue. Humiliation crawled up my ankles like poison ivy, wrapping tightly around me. How laughable. I gripped the glass so tight my fingertips hurt. Me? Apologize? What did I have to apologize for? Was I too stupid? Was I too deeply in love, eagerly handing him the knife so he could brutally stab me until I bled? What exactly was my crime? “Chloe, what are you waiting for?!” Director Reynolds was getting anxious and gave me a slight push. Liam crossed his legs, watching me with leisurely amusement. “Ms. Miller doesn’t seem to want to drink this. If you’re so reluctant, why are you still standing here?” His gaze felt like a scalpel, slowly slicing me to pieces right where I stood. But I couldn’t leave. I needed this role too badly. If I was recast now, not only would my last six months of work be wasted, but it would be the final nail in the coffin regarding the current PR disaster. It could genuinely ruin my entire future! If Liam added fuel to the fire and publicly confirmed I was a homewrecker, I was completely finished. After a long time, I slowly raised the glass. I could almost hear the dry friction of my joints grinding together. “I’m sorry. I was wrong in the past… Please, be the bigger person and let me go.” With that, I downed the whiskey in one gulp. The hard liquor burned down my throat, slicing my insides like a razor. But Liam didn’t give me an inch. He just scoffed. “You think one glass of whiskey is enough to buy a leading role? Ms. Miller thinks a bit too highly of herself.” My voice started to tremble. “Then what do you want?” He put two fingers together and casually waved behind him. An assistant came forward with two bottles of whiskey, filling a row of ten shot glasses to the brim. The color drained from everyone’s faces in the room, but this was Liam’s turf. No one dared to speak up. He tilted his head back slightly, narrowing his eyes at me. “Ten glasses. Finish them, and the role is yours.” I suddenly felt dizzy. The last time someone had said that exact sentence to me was two years ago, when I was fighting to get Liam a role. That balding producer had looked at me with predatory eyes and said, “Ten glasses. Finish them, and I’ll give him the role!” And now, the person saying those words was Liam. Director Reynolds’s face changed. “Liam, Chloe isn’t in great health. She can’t drink that much. How about—” Liam just shot him a freezing glare. “Director Reynolds, do you still want the funding for your show?” Director Reynolds immediately shut his mouth and shot me a deeply sympathetic look. I stood in silence for a moment, then tilted my head back and downed the first glass. The clear liquor carried a sharp, stinging burn, bringing tears to the corners of my eyes. My stomach began to spasm. The familiar, agonizing pain started creeping in. “One.” Liam leaned back in his chair, a mocking smile playing on his lips. Glass after glass went down. My vision started to blur. I don’t know why. I suddenly wanted to break down and sob. I desperately wanted to ask him: what unforgivable crime had I committed by loving him? Why did he hate me this much?! But I couldn’t cry. Tears are a weapon that only works on someone who loves you. In front of him, it would only strip away my last shred of dignity. The cramps in my stomach grew more and more violent. Back then, the doctor had sternly warned me that I could never binge drink like this again. But I had no choice. By the time I reached the third glass, I couldn’t tell if it was my imagination, but Liam’s expression seemed to change. He looked angry, his face dark as he stared at me intently. But by the seventh glass, I finally couldn’t take it anymore. I dropped the glass and stumbled out the door like a complete mess! Before I even made it to the restroom, I threw up everything right there in the hallway. The piercing pain in my stomach made it impossible to stand up straight. My vision went black for a long time before I managed to use the wall to pull myself up. My face was covered in tears from the dry heaving and the agony, but I couldn’t tell if it was my stomach or my heart that hurt more. I just felt so much pain. It hurt so much I felt like I was going to die. When I finally forced myself to stumble back into the room, Liam had already stepped out. He saw my wretched state. He froze for a second, then his face returned to its icy mask. I fought through the excruciating pain, my voice shaking. “Liam… is there… is there any other way? I really can’t drink anymore.” Liam stood there for a moment, then suddenly let out a soft chuckle. A few seconds later, he stepped closer, whispering softly in my ear: “I suddenly find myself missing Ms. Miller’s body. Why don’t you spend the night with me, and the leading role is yours. What do you say?” I never imagined he would say something so vile! I gritted my teeth. “What about Olivia? Aren’t you with her?” “You think you’re worthy of mentioning her name?” Liam sneered. “Don’t flatter yourself into thinking I want to get back together with you. I’m just bored. I just wanted to see what it feels like again.” The air around me seemed intent on suffocating me. It vanished, making it impossible to breathe. I blinked my burning eyes, and finally, that humiliating tear fell. Liam looked like he had been burned. A complex expression flashed across his face. Once the floodgates opened, the tears couldn’t be stopped. I didn’t care anymore. I just embraced my shattered pride, looking up at him with a tear-streaked face. I choked on my words. “Liam, do you know what my biggest regret in this life is?” He froze, a trace of almost imperceptible anticipation flashing in his eyes. “What?” I enunciated every word clearly: “My biggest regret in this life is ever meeting you.” 5 I didn’t stick around to see Liam’s expression turn murderous. I turned and stumbled away. In the long, brightly lit hallway, I let the tears fall silently. I decided that this would be the absolute last time I ever cried for him in this lifetime. … My stomach issue flared up badly, and I spent three days in the hospital recovering. I ultimately lost the role. Liam gave it to Olivia. When the show aired, it was a massive hit just as I had predicted. Even though Olivia’s performance was mediocre at best, Liam pulled strings to secure her an Emmy for Best Actress. Meanwhile, because of the “homewrecker” scandal, my career hit rock bottom. For a long time, I couldn’t even book a supporting role. To get any work at all, I had to attend the industry networking dinners I used to despise. Maybe it was a twisted joke of fate, but at one of those dinners, I ran into Olivia and Liam, who were there together. Olivia was currently riding the hype of her relationship with Liam and the success of her new TV show. She was the star of the moment, and many actors and directors were hovering around her, offering compliments. “We really have to hand it to Olivia. Beautiful and talented. No wonder she won the Emmy.” “Exactly! And she has such an amazing boyfriend. She’s winning at life!” Most people in the room knew about the bad blood between us, and some purposely stepped on me to kiss up to her: “Unlike some people. Fighting tooth and nail and ending up with absolutely nothing. Some people don’t have to fight or scheme and just have everything handed to them. There’s no comparison!” Olivia’s lips curled into a smug smile. “That’s true. What’s yours is yours. Nobody can steal it. What isn’t yours… forcing it won’t help. “Right, Liam?” The color drained from my face. From start to finish, Liam didn’t even glance at me. He just casually nodded. “Right.” “Oh, by the way, I heard that supporting role that made Liam famous back in the day was actually secured by Olivia! You two really built each other’s success!” “Yeah, isn’t everyone online calling it a fairy-tale romance? It’s all over TikTok. Even I couldn’t help but binge the edits!” … I froze, looking up at Liam. His eyes were soft and smiling. “Yeah, I wouldn’t be where I am today without Olivia.” As he said it, the two of them held hands, drawing cheers and hoots from the crowd. Of everyone in the room, only my agent and I weren’t smiling. She grabbed my hand tightly, forcing her voice down as she hissed furiously in my ear: “Didn’t you get him that role?! How the hell did it become Olivia’s doing?!” I didn’t know. Watching them act so sickeningly sweet, I couldn’t speak a single word. I just felt lost. I desperately wanted to run away from this room. Olivia’s gaze landed on me, carrying unconcealed contempt and triumph. Right at that moment, an investor sitting nearby suddenly spoke up: “Everyone says there’s no true love in Hollywood anymore, but I don’t think that’s true. “I remember back in the day, when Ms. Miller was trying to secure a role for her boyfriend, she drank until her stomach started bleeding and she ended up in the ER. I actually happened to be at that dinner.” I vaguely remembered this investor. I think we had dinner together once back then. I heard he later left the industry to start a tech business, so he probably wasn’t up to speed on all the current Hollywood drama. Liam froze for half a second, then snapped his head to look at me. The sheer disbelief on his face almost made him lose his composure. The investor, seemingly intrigued, asked, “How are things with you and your boyfriend now? Is his career doing well?” The crystal lights flickered over the crowded, noisy room. For a moment, I felt like the people around me were fading away. My world was completely silent. After a long pause, I spoke. “His career is doing great. But we’re broken up.” The investor looked surprised. “Why? You seemed so in love with him back then. I remember you were about to pass out, but you kept holding onto that producer, refusing to let go until he promised to give him the role!” Every single eye in the room was locked onto me. Some were shocked, some were mocking, some were just enjoying the drama. All the color vanished from Olivia’s face. She forced a smile and tugged on Liam’s arm. “Liam, I suddenly don’t feel well. Let’s go.” This time, Liam didn’t respond to her. He just stared dead at me. The emotions swirling in his eyes were unreadable to me, but they looked like a violent storm! His knuckles turned white from gripping his wine glass so tightly. I forced a smile, but it felt shattered, incapable of holding its shape. Those memories… having them laid bare in front of the people involved didn’t give me any vengeful thrill. I just felt exhausted. It was all in the past. What was the point of dragging it up again? An actress sitting next to me, who I was on good terms with, felt bad for me and asked pointedly: “Do you regret it now? Working so hard for someone else, only to end up making the wedding dress for another bride?” The edges of Liam’s eyes slowly turned red. I could feel his gaze practically burning a hole through me! I lowered my eyelashes and said softly: “There’s nothing to regret. “I’ve let it go.”

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Because I work on a highly classified government research project, I always tell my family I’m just a high school science teacher. When I went home for the holidays, my snobby relatives lectured me: “What’s the point of being a high school teacher? You should be like Chloe’s advisor, the youngest tenured professor at Columbia. That’s where the real future is.” …Wait a minute. Your precious Chloe, doesn’t she call me “Mrs. Professor”? 01. After three grueling years of research, my classified government project finally reached a major milestone. With the holidays approaching, I decided to head back to my hometown a bit early. To surprise my mom, I didn’t call ahead. I just lugged my suitcase straight to our front porch. Just as I got to the door, someone was walking out of my house. “Oh… hey there, Claire! You’re back!” I stared at my Aunt Susan, who was awkwardly hugging a brand-new blender. I was confused but politely said hello. She guiltily tried to hide the blender behind her back and gave an awkward laugh. “I just came to borrow something. It’s nothing, I’ll get going now.” She practically jogged a few steps down the driveway before turning around, feigning helpfulness. “By the way, your mom isn’t home today. You should probably give her a call.” I walked into the house, feeling more suspicious by the second. That blender looked exactly like the one I bought for my mom a few weeks ago. “Mom, Aunt Susan just came over to borrow the blender. Did you know about this?” I called my mom. She sounded surprised, then let out a helpless sigh. “She came over a couple of days ago and mentioned she wanted to borrow it. I guess she just came and took it.” I frowned. “Mom, did you still not change the keypad code for the front door?” “Your aunts told me since I live alone, it’s good for them to know the code in case of an emergency. So I just… left it.” I bought my mom that new blender specifically because my other aunt took the old one! A terrible premonition washed over me. I quickly scanned the house. I couldn’t believe my eyes. The espresso machine, the Le Creuset Dutch oven, the KitchenAid mixer… even the nice coffee mugs I bought her were gone! When I asked, she casually mentioned they were all “borrowed” by my various aunts. Wow. Are my relatives playing a game of Raid the House? “They’re family, Claire. If they took it, they took it. Let it go…” I wanted to cry but had no tears. I felt incredibly guilty. “Mom, why didn’t you tell me earlier?” “It’s just small stuff, what’s there to talk about? I rarely use those things anyway. Forget it.” My clueless mom finally realized something else. “Wait a minute, Claire, you’re home?!” 02. With my mom trying to keep the peace, I had to swallow my frustration about the “borrowed” appliances. She values her relationships with her sisters a lot, and I didn’t want to break her heart. I went online, ordered a whole new set of kitchen appliances, and practically forced my mom to change the door code. “You can’t just let people walk into the house whenever they want. It’s dangerous.” My mom sighed. “This is all because you’re never home.” “You say you’re a teacher, but other teachers get summer and winter breaks! You only come back for a few days around Christmas!” My national research project had top-secret security clearance, which was why I always told my family I was just a teacher. In the past, the project schedule was insanely tight. I’d rush home for Christmas dinner and leave almost immediately after. I hugged my mom and cooed, “Don’t worry, Mom. This time I’m staying as long as you want. I’ll stay until you’re sick of me!” My mom finally smiled. After cuddling with her for a bit, I went to my room to unpack. My phone buzzed with a new message. Professor Davis: “Not at the lab today?” Oh, crap! I completely forgot I had a boyfriend. “I went home.” Fearing that sounded ambiguous, I added, “Back to my hometown.” Professor Davis: “?” Just one question mark, but I could vividly picture him slightly raising his eyes, that deep gaze carrying an innocent yet undeniable pressure. Uh, what was I supposed to say right now? I froze. Thankfully, my mom yelled for me from the living room, giving me an out. “My mom’s calling me, gotta go!” Thinking for a second, I added: “See you after the holidays.” I let out a sigh of relief, dropped my phone, and sprinted out of the room. My mom was sitting on the couch, waving me over. “Your Aunt Brenda knows you came back early this year. She said she wants to introduce you to a nice young man. She wants you to grab lunch with him tomorrow.” 03. I was stunned. “Here’s his contact info. I’ll text it to you. You guys should chat first.” Seeing my mom about to send a stranger’s profile to my phone, I grabbed her hand. “Mom, I am not going on a blind date.” My mom wasn’t surprised. She easily pulled her hand away. “I’m not trying to pressure you, Claire, but you’re pushing thirty. It’s not good to not have someone to take care of you. “I’m not forcing you to marry the guy. Just chat with him. If it doesn’t work out, don’t force it.” I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I stopped her hand again. “No, Mom, seriously. I have a boyfriend.” Now it was my mom’s turn to be shocked. “Where did you get a boyfriend?” Her expression was so incredulous that it made me doubt if I even deserved to have one. “He’s a colleague at the university. We just started dating two months ago.” “He’s a teacher too? Why haven’t you mentioned him before?” My mom immediately went into interrogation mode: “What’s his name?” I puffed out my chest. “Liam Davis. He’s incredibly handsome. He could easily be a Hollywood actor!” “What kind of guy is he? Where is he from?” I blinked. “Uh… I forgot to ask. I think he’s from New York?” “What do his parents do? Does he have siblings?” I smiled awkwardly. “I… I haven’t asked that yet.” My mom asked a few more basic questions about Liam, and I couldn’t answer a single one. The atmosphere grew tense. We stared at each other. She sighed, putting on an “I see right through you” expression. “You just don’t want to go on the blind date, so you’re lying to your mother, aren’t you?” “No, Mom, I swear…” “Forget it. Tomorrow at lunch, I’m saying yes for you. You have to go.” 04. That night, I lay in bed, staring blankly at my chat with Liam. My relationship with Liam was entirely transactional. We had absolutely no emotional foundation. We were both getting older; he needed a girlfriend to get his family off his back, and I had been single my entire life of nearly thirty years, so in a moment of impulse… Plus, when Liam proposed we date, he explicitly said that if I found someone more suitable in the future, we could end it whenever I wanted. Thinking about this, I texted Liam: “Professor Davis, would you mind if I went on a blind date?” “?” Liam replied almost instantly, short and to the point: “I would mind.” He was a man of few words, known at Columbia University for being refined, aloof, and very difficult to approach. “Hahaha. I’m just kidding.” I tried to laugh it off. Liam coldly replied with a simple, “Ok.” Although I could sense his dissatisfaction, in the end, I didn’t go to the blind date lunch. I told Aunt Brenda I already had a boyfriend who was also a teacher. Aunt Brenda made a huge fuss on the phone: “The guy I’m introducing you to, Kevin, is a regional manager at a big tech company! He makes $200,000 a year. What kind of teacher can compare to that?” Uh, Liam’s speaking fee for a single international seminar is probably more than that. “Kevin is five years older than you. He’s at the perfect age to know how to spoil a woman, and he’s not bad-looking either. It’s your loss if you don’t meet him.” Kevin wasn’t ugly, but comparing him to Liam was an absolute insult to Liam. “Aunt Brenda, my boyfriend isn’t… worse than Kevin. Please, don’t worry about me.” Aunt Brenda clearly didn’t believe me and started lecturing me: “Claire, with your background, I had to cash in a lot of favors just to get Kevin to agree to meet you. Don’t act all high and mighty and treat people like they’re beneath you. “You need to think about your age! By the time a woman hits thirty, having kids gets risky! Aunt Brenda is only saying this for your own good!” “…” Her barrage of words made my head spin. I barely managed to keep my polite composure until I hung up. I never expected that at the annual family holiday dinner, they would be even more ruthless to my face. 05. Early the next morning, before I even got enough sleep, I was woken up by a racket outside my room. Aunt Brenda, Aunt Susan, a few other relatives, and several loud kids of varying ages were gathered in the living room, laughing and making a mess. I opened my bedroom door in my pajamas, instantly becoming the center of attention. Aunt Susan, whom I had only seen briefly the day before, immediately started her passive-aggressive routine: “Wow, it’s so late, Claire is finally awake.” I awkwardly greeted everyone one by one. My eyes swept over a pretty, twenty-something girl standing at the back, and I paused. Noticing this, Aunt Brenda quickly grabbed the girl’s arm. “Chloe, come here. This is your cousin Claire.” Chloe was stunningly gorgeous. She gave me a dismissive nod. “Cousin.” My impression of this younger cousin was stuck in a memory from over a decade ago. I gave a stiff nod back. I intended to retreat to my room after saying hello, but Aunt Brenda decided to use me as a conversation starter. “Claire, our Chloe is studying in New York now too. You guys should hang out when you have free time.” I politely asked, “Oh really? Which university?” Aunt Brenda, waiting for exactly that question, puffed out her chest. “At Columbia. She’s a grad student.” They waited for a look of awe to appear on my face, but my reaction was flat. “Oh. Well, if you ever need anything in New York, just let me know.” I don’t know what I said wrong, but Aunt Brenda’s face instantly fell, and Chloe started sizing me up. She even let out a soft scoff, her eyes seemingly saying, “How exactly could you help me?” I looked innocent. Aunt Susan chimed in: “Columbia is an Ivy League, top-tier university. Claire, you’re just a high school teacher. You’ll probably be the one asking Chloe for favors in the future.” When I told my mom I was a teacher at a “higher education institution,” she must have misunderstood and told everyone I was a high school teacher. These relatives had no idea I was actually an associate professor at Columbia. I didn’t care about the misunderstanding, so I just brushed it off. “Well then, please look out for me in the future, Cousin Chloe.” I turned to go back to my room. Through the door, I could still hear Aunt Brenda’s loud voice: “Chloe, don’t aim low like your cousin. When you become a teacher, you have to be at least a full professor.” Me: “???” 06. The whole group headed to a restaurant for lunch. On the way, my mom, Aunt Susan, and I shared a car. “Sarah, I’m so sorry, I forgot to return that blender I borrowed the other day.” Aunt Susan put on a fake apologetic face. “I saw you bought a new one for your kitchen. So the old one…” Before my mom could even speak, I cut in with a bright smile: “Aunt Susan, you can just return it when you have time. I actually need a blender for my apartment in New York.” Aunt Susan froze on the spot. I continued, “You can keep using it for now. I’ll pick it up before I head back to the city.” “Oh… okay. Okay.” In the dim light of the car, my mom shot me a scolding glare, but she didn’t say anything. For the rest of the ride, Aunt Susan looked incredibly uncomfortable and didn’t speak again. The moment we got out of the car, she couldn’t wait to run over to Aunt Brenda. The two of them huddled together, whispering. Nearby, Chloe shot me another look of pure disdain. “I heard Claire got a boyfriend? What does he do? Why didn’t you bring him back to show us?” At the dinner table, Aunt Susan opened fire on me like she was seeking revenge. I looked up at her. “He’s a teacher too. He went back to his hometown.” Aunt Brenda immediately put on a pretentious, lecturing tone: “What’s the point of being a high school teacher? You should be like Chloe’s advisor, the youngest tenured professor at Columbia. That’s where the real future is.” The youngest tenured professor at Columbia? Isn’t that Liam? I was confused. I heard Aunt Brenda boasting, “Chloe, what’s your advisor’s name again? How does he treat you?” Chloe put on a bashful, girlish demeanor. “Professor Liam Davis is the best advisor I’ve ever had. Since he found out we’re from the same hometown, he takes special care of me…” Hearing that name, I swallowed hard and glanced at my mom, who looked completely lost. The other aunts started making a fuss: “Oh my, Chloe, does the professor have feelings for you?” “A college romance between a professor and a student is totally normal. If you like him, Chloe, just be bold.” “Wait, is this Professor Davis from our town?” Liam is from my hometown? I didn’t even know that! I stared in shock at Chloe, who looked incredibly flushed and shy. I genuinely doubted if there were two professors named Liam Davis at Columbia. At that moment, a waiter opened the private dining room door to bring in the food, and a figure walked past the hallway. Chloe, who happened to look up, froze. She immediately yelled out toward the hall, “Professor Davis!” The entire room fell dead silent. Chloe excitedly jumped up and ran toward the door. I stared blankly in that direction, completely unprepared as my eyes locked with the person outside. LIAM!!! 07. I looked shocked, but Liam’s gaze and expression were impossibly calm. As Chloe ran up to him, he casually withdrew his gaze from me. “Professor Davis, what a coincidence! Are you eating here too?” The door to the private room was wide open, and Chloe’s voice clearly carried to everyone inside. “Yes.” Liam’s coldness was obvious. He shifted his feet, clearly preparing to leave. Chloe acted like she didn’t notice. She raised her hand to tuck a non-existent strand of hair behind her ear and continued talking to him in a sickly-sweet voice: “It’s almost the holidays, so I came out to eat with my family. We just got here.” “I’m not interested in your personal life.” Liam shifted his feet again, but before he could take a step, he was stopped by Chloe’s persistent chatter. “Professor Davis, then you…” I had been staring at Liam the whole time. Seeing his awkward leg movements trying to escape, I couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst out laughing. Well, that was it. Everyone in the room simultaneously turned to look at me. I immediately covered my mouth, waved my hand at the two people by the door, and offered an apologetic smile: “Sorry, sorry. Please, continue. Carry on.” Liam’s gaze landed on me, and it felt distinctly chilly. He let out a light scoff, and this time, he finally walked away cleanly. “Wait, Professor Davis…” Chloe called out frantically but got no response. Seeing Liam walk far away, her face darkened, and she stormed back into the private room. “Cousin Claire, what is your problem?” I was bewildered, looking at the suddenly furious Chloe, completely lost. “I was having a perfectly nice conversation with Professor Davis, and you intentionally made a noise to interrupt us. What exactly are your intentions?” Me: ???

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After my parents’ divorce, my mom had a whirlwind romance and married the richest man in the city. The court awarded custody of my sister to my mom, but my sister had a total meltdown in the courtroom. She screamed that our mom was a gold-digging whore and refused to go with her. Seeing her bloodshot eyes and stubborn defiance, I immediately rushed forward and threw my arms around my mom. “Mom! I don’t want to be separated from you! Can you please take me instead?” And just like that, without a second thought, I changed my last name and became the pampered daughter of the ultra-wealthy Sterling family. From that high vantage point, I watched as the father and daughter who had caused my gruesome death in my previous life slowly plummeted from their pedestals into absolute ruin. 1 My mother was incredibly beautiful. Even compared to the actresses on TV, she didn’t pale in the slightest. Because of that, I always believed it was only a matter of time before she left my father. Sure enough, she filed for divorce. She was preparing to marry into the Sterling family—the absolute apex of high society—and become Mrs. Sterling. In the courtroom, the judge initially awarded custody of my sister to my mom. But my sister had a complete meltdown right there in front of everyone. She screamed that our mom was a gold-digging whore and swore she would rather die than go with her. Seeing her bloodshot eyes and that familiar, stubborn defiance on her face, I immediately rushed forward and threw my arms around my mom. “Mom! I don’t want to be separated from you! Can you please take me instead?” I cried until my face was a mess, looking absolutely pitiful. Huge teardrops smashed onto the floor. I looked so devastated that even the judge probably wanted to slap himself for trying to separate us. After that dramatic performance, my mom and the judge decisively changed the custody ruling. I forced down the overwhelming joy bubbling up inside me. With swollen eyes, I followed my mom into the black Rolls-Royce. As the car drove away, I let out a long, heavy exhale. I clenched my fists. This time, I absolutely refuse to live the miserable, tragic life I lived before. Since I was given a second chance at life, I was going to do everything in my power to shine as brightly as possible. 2 Looking back at the two figures slowly fading into the distance, an indescribable sense of satisfaction washed over me. Even if I hadn’t completely rid myself of those two lunatics yet, at least I wasn’t trapped in that hellish household anymore. In this life, I refused to be driven insane by those two hypocritical psychopaths, and I absolutely refused to be their stepping stone again. Just recalling my memories from my past life made me sick to my stomach. That father and daughter loved to put on a show of high-minded intellectual superiority in front of others. They loved acting like they were above worldly desires. But behind closed doors, they were rotten to the core. Especially my “good sister.” She loved nothing more than playing the role of the resilient, independent martyr who defied authority. So, in my previous life, just like in this one, my sister, Mia, refused to go with my mom. She hysterically accused my mom of abandoning the family for money. After all, in her eyes, our professor father was practically a god. She wanted to fall into ruin alongside her god, but she refused to let me go. She had planned it all out from the start. “Dad, you and Mom are really over, aren’t you?” “Chloe secretly told me she doesn’t want to go with Mom. Dad, please don’t let Chloe and me down.” And just as she planned, in the courtroom, the father who had always disliked me actively asked the judge for custody of me. I wasn’t surprised at all. The moment he spoke, I saw the faint smirk tugging at the corners of Mia’s mouth. She hid it well, but as someone who had lived through this once before, I saw it plain as day. Then, she turned around and started her hysterical tirade against my mom. “I don’t want you! You don’t even want Dad anymore! Why couldn’t you just give me a complete family?!” “You’ll never be respected marrying into that family! I don’t want a mother who abandoned her biological daughters just to be a stepmother to someone else’s kid! We don’t need you!” I have to admit, Mia’s acting was phenomenal. Even experiencing it a second time, her explosive outburst startled me for a second. But I recovered quickly. I threw myself into my mom’s arms—she was already sobbing quietly. Honestly, my heart ached a little for this woman. With a trembling voice, I delivered my lines: “Mom, I don’t want to be separated from you! Can you please take me instead?” I cried until my face was a mess, looking absolutely pitiful. Huge teardrops smashed onto the floor, making even the judge look like he regretted his initial decision. After that dramatic performance, my mom and the judge decisively changed the custody ruling. In that exact moment, I clearly saw the panic flash across Mia’s face. It was quickly replaced by a mask of grievance and betrayal, as if the entire world had turned its back on her. My dad rushed forward to hug her, comforting her in a soft voice, just like he always did. Since their father-daughter bond was so deep, I hoped they would stay locked together for the rest of this life. 3 I wouldn’t feel bad for her, because I knew Mia had always been incredibly smart and fiercely ambitious. Unfortunately, it wasn’t until I died in my last life that I saw her true colors clearly. I knew she didn’t actually hate money. On the contrary, she loved money more than anyone else. But she was greedy. She wanted both the money and the flawless reputation. So, just like in my previous life, she put on a show of rejecting my mom’s departure, causing a scene in court. But behind the scenes, she intentionally made sure my mom saw her looking disheveled and miserable over and over again. My mom felt guilty and compensated by treating her even better, constantly trying to bring her into the Sterling family so she could live like a wealthy heiress. But Mia knew exactly how to play the game. She would reject the offers again and again, playing hard to get. Meanwhile, she continued to build her “resilient scholar” persona alongside our hypocritical father, networking with heavyweights in the academic world. Eventually, by the second semester of her junior year of college, she published three major research papers back-to-back. By her senior year, she secured a full-ride to Harvard and was hailed by everyone as a genius. And then? She swiftly and decisively kicked our dad and me to the curb, officially becoming the Eldest Miss of the Sterling family. And what about me in my past life? I was so devastated by our parents’ separation that I couldn’t snap out of it, foolishly following Mia back to my dad’s house. As a result, I spent the rest of my life working myself to the bone to support those two hypocritical academics, eventually collapsing from exhaustion and severe illness. When I finally woke up, I discovered that they had drugged me and sent me to the bed of an absolute monster—all just so they could secure a $100,000 research grant. How laughable is that? Two people who constantly claimed to despise the “stench of money” traded me for their food, their clothes, their lifestyle, and their grants. It was nauseating beyond belief. 4 Living a second time, my goals were incredibly clear. Escape that subhuman father-daughter duo, and maybe exact a little revenge along the way. And of course, I wasn’t going to let the title of “Sterling Family Heiress” slip away this time. So, after following my mom back to the Sterling estate… I immediately changed my last name. The world no longer had a Chloe Miller; there was only Chloe Sterling. When I proposed the idea, my mom was actually a bit surprised. In contrast, my stepdad, Mr. Sterling, was deeply moved. He turned around and handed me a dazzling, jet-black Amex Centurion card. “Thank you, Uncle Sterling.” I accepted it sweetly. Unlike Mia, I wasn’t fake. I wanted it, and I wasn’t ashamed to admit it. Then, I calmly walked over to my mom and patted her arm. “Good eye this time.” With that, I slowly walked upstairs to pick out my room. I have to admit, having money is fantastic. Looking at the opulent, palatial mansion, my mood soared. Even a random trash can in this house probably cost more than I made in three months of working in my past life. While I was still lost in my joy, I accidentally bumped into a chest that smelled faintly of a clean, fresh cologne. The warmth radiating from it perked me up instantly. I looked up, meeting a pair of deep, disdainful eyes. This was straight out of a cheesy romance drama. I was just getting ready to swallow hard… When the next second, a massive force shoved me away. “I—” “Hello, sister,” a voice as cold as ice echoed from the bottom of the stairs. When I groggily looked back, the person only left me with an aloof, distant silhouette. I awkwardly rubbed my nose. I guessed who it was. Uncle Sterling’s only son, Julian Sterling. He was the future head of the Sterling empire. A quintessential, domineering CEO. I didn’t have many memories of him from my past life. So I didn’t overthink it. For the next few days, nothing major happened. My mom and Uncle Sterling were gross and lovey-dovey every day, acting out a cheesy romance novel right in front of me and Julian. My fragile heart took a beating every day. In contrast, Julian was completely unfazed. I don’t know if he had facial paralysis, but from the first time I saw him until now, I had never seen him make any other expression. Always freezing cold. I didn’t dare provoke him, keeping as much distance between us as possible. After all, I had a lot of work to do. 5 Not long after entering the Sterling household, I basically adapted to the life of a wealthy heiress. Using the black card Uncle Sterling gave me, I went on a massive shopping spree at the mall and bought the newest iPhone. Then, I relentlessly began sending verification messages to my “good sister.” For an entire week, I bombarded her: “Mia, the Sterling family is seriously so rich. Uncle Sterling gave me a watch yesterday that costs enough to buy the nicest house on our old street.” “Mia, what should I do? Uncle Sterling is making me attend a high-society gala in Beverly Hills tomorrow. Am I going to embarrass myself? Wuwuwu~” “Mia, Uncle Sterling transferred me to the best private high school in Beverly Hills. It’s called Oakridge Academy. I think that’s the one you originally tested into, right?” “Mia, when are you free? Let me take you out for a fancy steak dinner.” And then, she deleted me. Undeterred, every few days, I would send my “good sister” another verification request, putting my most pretentious humble-brags in the message box. And then, I was blocked. I didn’t care at all, because my only goal was to make her miserable. Two weeks later, I officially transferred into Class A at Oakridge Academy. Of course, all of this was thanks to Uncle Sterling’s immense wealth. “Hello everyone, my name is Chloe Sterling.” I stood at the podium introducing myself, but waves of mocking whispers echoed from the students below. “So this is the new fake phoenix of the Sterling family. Her mom is shameless enough, but this daughter… tsk tsk. Changing her last name the second she moves in. Afraid people won’t know she’s a gold digger?” “True, but you can’t deny she’s actually really pretty.” “Who cares if she’s pretty? She’s still just a fake heiress.” Listening to the chatter and gossip below, my heart remained perfectly calm. I had experienced plenty of this in my past life. I had a very thick skin. Of course, I knew my “good sister” definitely had a hand in spreading these rumors. In my past life, my grades were never as good as hers. She relied on her stellar academic record to test into this elite private school, making my dad proud for a very long time. Now, watching the sister who had always lived in her shadow suddenly stand at the same height—maybe even shining brighter—of course she would be furious. I cast a brief, indifferent glance at Mia, who was sitting at her desk, pretending to focus intently on a worksheet. I didn’t say hello. It was as if my harassment from the past few weeks had never happened. When I slung my limited-edition designer backpack over my shoulder and walked to the back of the room, I noticed there was only one empty seat left in the entire class. Everyone was watching, waiting for a show. I actually smiled. Well, if it isn’t my “good brother.” I sat down next to him, completely unfazed. Julian didn’t even lift his eyes. Excellent. As freezing cold as ever. I like it. After a few minutes, seeing that Julian had no intention of kicking me out, the students who wanted to see me humiliated were shocked. In the crowd, I saw Mia turn her head and give me a long, deep look. I pretended not to see it and focused on the lesson. After all, getting a second chance at life meant I understood a lot of things better now. Like the fact that getting into a top university was crucial. So, I immersed myself in studying, unable to pull myself away. This resulted in many students who wanted to pick a fight giving up, since I just sat next to Julian, behaving perfectly and doing practice problems. Additionally, Uncle Sterling hosted a massive banquet specifically for me, officially announcing me as the Eldest Miss of the Sterling family. Many shrewd players in the business world realized that Uncle Sterling genuinely valued me. These elite private school kids all came from wealthy families and ran in the same circles, so they caught on quickly. They didn’t dare provoke me anymore; some even started trying to suck up to me. But there are always people who lack basic observation skills. Mia’s desk-mate, Sarah, was one of them. After I broke into the top 200 on the midterms, she stood up in front of the whole class and accused me of cheating. “I knew it! She used to go to a public school in a terrible district. If she didn’t latch onto the Sterling family, there’s no way she could be here. There’s no way she could keep up with the curriculum.” What she said wasn’t entirely wrong. But she didn’t know that even though my grades couldn’t match Mia’s in my past life, I was still ranked first in my old public school. This time around, since I planned to focus on studying, Uncle Sterling had specifically hired top-tier private tutors for me. So, I calmly walked up to Sarah and grabbed her by the collar. “I cheated? You saw it?” Perhaps feeling humiliated by being manhandled, Sarah’s face turned bright red. “Let go of me! You cheated, aren’t people allowed to say it?!” “Oh really? Let’s go then.” Her bravado faltered a bit. She tried to pull my hand away but couldn’t, so she gritted her teeth. “Let go of me! Where are we going?!” “To the Dean’s office to check the security footage.” My tone was flat, completely unhurried. “If there’s no proof, just wait for me to sue you for defamation. I’m sure you’re aware of the Sterling family’s legal team.” Saying that, I started dragging her toward the door. She screamed in panic, but still cursed at me. At that moment, exactly as I expected, my “Saint” of a sister, Mia, walked over. “Chloe, let go of Sarah. She was just making a joke. Why are you taking it so seriously?” “But I’m a very petty person, you know that.” I tilted my head and looked at her, smiling faintly. “By the way, my last name is Sterling now. I’m not your sister.” As we were arguing and pulling, our homeroom teacher, Mr. Davis, walked over. The thirty-something man looked kindly at us and asked, “What’s going on here?” Sarah didn’t speak. Mia, perfectly maintaining her poised demeanor, spoke up. “It’s nothing, Mr. Davis. Sarah was just joking with my sister, saying she cheated on the exam. After all, her grades used to be really poor, and she just transferred here not long ago, but she already broke into the top 200. My sister has always had a bad temper, so she got upset and started arguing with Sarah.” What a masterful white lotus. She seemed to be explaining the situation for me, but she was actually trying to solidify the cheating accusations while reminding everyone that I have a “bad temper.” If this were my past life, I wouldn’t have noticed all the underlying malice. Watching her stand there with a slight frown, while Mr. Davis’s eyes remained fixed on her, fully believing her words and preparing to scold me… I shoved Sarah. “Sarah, were you just joking with me?” Without waiting for Sarah to answer, I continued, “Oh, I just remembered. Mia, I always see you coming out of Mr. Davis’s office after school, and you’re always bringing him breakfast. You don’t have a crush on Mr. Davis, do you?” As soon as the words left my mouth, Mia’s face went deathly pale. She stood there, completely panicked. Mr. Davis’s expression shifted from awkwardness to visible distress. “Chloe Sterling, what are you talking about? Spread rumors like that, and I’ll give you a disciplinary infraction.” “Don’t take it so seriously, I was just making a joke.” I tossed the words back casually, nearly making Mia pass out from anger. To resolve the situation, we ended up in the Dean’s office. Because Uncle Sterling had just donated a massive sum of money the previous month, the school’s security cameras had been upgraded. The footage clearly showed I didn’t cheat. But because I spread a rumor about a student and a teacher, both Sarah and I ended up getting a formal warning. Walking back into the classroom, I purposefully walked past Mia’s desk. I leaned down and whispered in her ear, “My good sister, it looks like Mr. Davis really does like you.” Mia’s body violently flinched. I happily returned to my seat. After all, having memories from my past life, I knew all about Mr. Davis. Because she couldn’t afford private tutors, Mia struggled to maintain her top-ten ranking. Discovering that Mr. Davis had a soft spot for her “poor but hardworking” persona, she started approaching him to ask questions. It escalated from asking questions during passing periods to him tutoring her alone after school. I have to admit, she was very smart and very charming. Because, judging by Mr. Davis’s reaction today, he probably really did have feelings for her. So, I had just secured my first piece of leverage against her. However, if she stopped there, I wouldn’t have been able to do much. It all depended on how she chose to play her cards moving forward. For a while after that, Mia didn’t dare incite anyone to mess with me. And, to avoid suspicion, she didn’t dare go to Mr. Davis for help either. Unsurprisingly, her grades dropped significantly by finals. Seeing her sitting in her usual seat, crushing her exam paper in her hands, put me in a fantastic mood. Lately, Julian’s attitude toward me had improved a lot. He wasn’t as freezing cold as he was at the beginning. I started calling him “Brother” constantly. I knew his connections were powerful, so clinging to him would solidify my position as the Sterling family’s Miss. Under my relentless harassment, he finally, reluctantly agreed to let me ask him for help with questions I didn’t understand. But he set a strict rule: “A maximum of thirty minutes a day. Do not bother me outside of that time.” “You got it!” So, my final exams showed a lot of progress. I was almost catching up to Mia. 6 When summer break hit, I saw Mia in our gated community. Sure enough, the plotline from my past life was playing out. That night at dinner, I casually mentioned, “Mom, didn’t you tell me the other day that you wanted to go to the Maldives for the summer? You said it was your lifelong dream. When are we going? I want to go with you.” “Oh, that was just a silly dream from when I was young. You silly child, your Uncle Sterling is so busy, I need to stay here and take care of him.” My mom said it with a blush on her face. I secretly glanced at my stepdad. He was listening very intently. The next morning, when I came downstairs for breakfast, I saw Julian sitting alone at the dining table. “Where are Uncle Sterling and my mom?” The housekeeper replied, “Mr. and Mrs. Sterling went to the Maldives for a vacation. They probably won’t be back for half a month.” Yes! I couldn’t help but feel giddy. Julian sat across from me, his arms crossed, watching me with a knowing look. I quickly reeled in my excitement. Seeing him still staring at me, I hurriedly changed the subject. “Brother, since it’s just the two of us at home now, you have to be nice to me. Otherwise, I’ll tattle on you.” The corners of Julian’s mouth ticked up slightly. “Oh? How should I be nice to you?” He pushed a glass of milk toward me. I was instantly speechless. This guy never used to engage with me. His sudden response really caught me off guard. I quickly buried my head in my food, inhaling three large meat buns to ease the awkwardness. Across from me, Julian elegantly sipped his oatmeal, watching me the entire time. It felt like he was trying to burn a hole through me. I hastily finished my food and ran off. For the next few days, I saw Mia wandering around our gated community. Because she intentionally dressed very plainly, almost shabbily, the security guards chased her away several times. After a week of not running into my mom, Mia finally slinked away in defeat. 7 One day, I put on an elegant sundress and was just getting ready to leave the house. “Where are you going?” A familiar voice sounded behind me. I instinctively shrank my neck back and froze in place. While I was trying to come up with an excuse, Julian considerately opened the front door for me and grabbed his car keys. “Let’s go. I’ll give you a ride.” I turned around stiffly, stammering, “I… I’m just going shopping with my girlfriends. We can just take an Uber. It’s too much trouble for you.” Julian’s voice left no room for argument. “Didn’t you say we were the only ones home and I should take care of you?” I was still trying to talk my way out of it. Julian acted like he didn’t hear me. He gave me a gentle push. By the time I stepped over the threshold, the door was already closed behind me. And then, inexplicably, I found myself standing in front of Julian’s red sports car. Looking at the flashy two-seater, I felt a surge of excitement, but still weakly said, “Brother, I’m meeting my friends.” “Annoying.” I heard him mutter impatiently. We ended up taking a Bentley. Just as I opened the back door to get in… Julian’s voice rang out again: “Sit in the front.” It was an absolute command. I cursed in my head, thinking this guy had definitely read too many cheesy romance novels featuring domineering CEOs. “Hurry up.” He spoke again, and I quickly climbed into the passenger seat. After picking up my new best friend, Lily, we nervously headed to the mall. Julian followed us with his arms crossed, looking completely aloof. “Chloe, your brother is so hot. Can I get his Instagram?” Lily asked me, completely love-struck, constantly sneaking glances in his direction. I covertly glanced at Julian. His eyebrows were knit so tightly they could probably crush a mosquito. I pulled Lily close and whispered in her ear, “Don’t even think about it. He likes guys.” Lily’s mouth fell open in sheer disbelief. As expected, after the initial shock, her looks toward Julian were filled with nothing but curiosity. Then, she enthusiastically dragged me through various luxury boutiques, buying everything in sight. When we were almost done shopping, I purposely led Lily past a specific coffee shop. Having memories of my past life, I knew Mia worked here part-time. Today was the day the school’s bad boy, Ethan, would fall in love with her at first sight in this very shop. It all started because she accidentally spilled coffee on his shirt, and Ethan noticed this “hardworking” girl. After that, they would run into each other multiple times, and Ethan would relentlessly pursue her. I vividly remembered from my past life how desperately Ethan loved Mia. The plot was basically “handsome bad boy falls for the hardworking good girl.” With Ethan’s backing, Mia navigated the elite private school flawlessly. Not only did she not get bullied by the rich kids, but she eventually secured early admission to Harvard. I had originally planned to use my own charm to win Ethan over first, but after sending him harassing texts for a week straight without a single reply, I had no choice but to come here and ruin their meet-cute. So, Lily and I swaggered into the coffee shop, fully playing the part of arrogant rich girls. As I carefully orchestrated it, when Lily walked past Ethan’s table, the coffee that was supposed to spill on Ethan’s clothes ended up splashing all over Lily’s limited-edition dress. Accompanied by Lily’s shriek of “Ah!”, Mia took a step back. Seeing that she was about to fall into Ethan’s arms, I stepped forward, yanked her back, and then lost my own balance, falling forward. I secretly rejoiced, thinking I was going to bump into Ethan. Instead, a pair of strong hands yanked me back. A chilling aura washed over me from above. Julian glared down at me with a face as cold as ice. I shrank back, trying to slip away, but he held me firmly in place. While I was still struggling, a loud SMACK rang out. Mia had a bright red handprint on her face. Her eyes instantly turned red, and she looked at Lily with a mix of grievance and defiance. It was a truly pitiful sight. “What are you looking at? Let me tell you, you’re finished. “Do you have any idea how much this dress cost? You’re going to pay for it.” I had to admit, a pampered heiress like Lily was far better at this than I was. Every gesture exuded arrogance. I almost wanted to applaud, but thinking of Julian behind me, I held back. “I didn’t do it on purpose. You don’t have to look down on people like that.” Mia finally spoke up, still maintaining her defiant persona. Lily only demanded she pay for the dress, but Mia interpreted it as Lily looking down on her, while completely ignoring the demand for compensation. To an outsider, it looked exactly like we were bullying a poor, hardworking girl. Seeing her stoic expression, even I almost wanted to step in and help. Sure enough, many people turned to look, and someone even advised: “Miss, she’s just a student working a part-time job. It was an accident. Let it go.” I took my time and said, “I don’t know if it was intentional or not. But I do know that the dress my friend is wearing was a birthday gift from her dad. It’s a global limited edition. You might not even be able to buy it for a hundred thousand dollars. I wonder if it were you, would you just ‘let it go’?” Lily’s eyes were red with anger. “I don’t care. If you don’t pay for this today, I’m going to tear you apart.” Mia, perhaps just noticing me, turned her head and saw Julian standing behind me. Her face went pale. Hearing the price tag, she looked even more unsteady, incredibly pitiful. She looked pleadingly at Ethan. I then noticed that Ethan was just sitting there with a smirk, watching the drama unfold without the slightest intention of helping. Mia’s action made things a bit awkward. Finally, she turned to me with difficulty: “Sister, you know—” This was the prelude to making me the scapegoat. I quickly took a big step back. This time, Julian didn’t restrain me. “Hey, don’t call me that. My last name is Sterling. I barely know you.” I quickly hid behind Julian again. Mia’s pale face showed she hadn’t expected me to be so ruthless. Seeing that none of the boys nearby intended to help her, she closed her eyes and fainted. Ethan quickly moved away, terrified of being blamed for it. In the end, it was the coffee shop owner who came over to smooth things over. He fired Mia on the spot and told us to settle the compensation privately. The owner pulled out his phone. Not long after, I saw my dad arrive, late to the scene. Seeing Mia on the floor, his face was full of heartbreak. Then he looked at me, and just like he had questioned me countless times before, he demanded, “What happened to your sister? Was it because of you?” “Your wings have grown strong now, haven’t they? She’s your biological sister, and you just let people bully her like this.” See, my dad was always like this. Even though I was also his daughter, because my grades couldn’t match Mia’s, he was always cold to me. He constantly muttered that I was nothing like him, and wondered how the Miller family could produce such a stupid daughter. Even when I studied incredibly hard, falling just a few points behind Mia, he couldn’t see me. He gave all his paternal love to her. To beg for his love, I was so happy when he fought for custody of me in court in my past life. But after being worn down by him and disappointed time and time again, I no longer had any expectations for him. I said coldly, “You don’t have to scold me. After all, I’m not your daughter anymore. Besides, this is what your precious daughter did. What does it have to do with me?” My dad’s eyes turned red. He was just about to reprimand me when the coffee shop owner tactfully explained the truth of the situation. Then I saw my dad instantly change his tune: “Chloe, she’s still your biological sister. You know she’s always been obedient, working hard to support herself. Do you think you could—” Sure enough, the emotional blackmail was starting. Just as I was about to speak, Julian beat me to it: “Mr. Miller, Chloe is currently a member of the Sterling family. She has absolutely nothing to do with you.” With that, he pulled out his phone, ready to call the police. My dad finally panicked. “We’ll pay, don’t call the police! My daughter still has to go to college.” Ah, the depth of a father’s love! I suddenly felt a twinge of pain in my heart. Julian instinctively supported me. In the end, my dad pulled out his card to pay, looking absolutely heartbroken. After making a few phone calls, he barely managed to scrape together enough money. Then, he carried Mia on his back and left. Watching them walk away, even though I had achieved my goal, I didn’t feel as happy as I thought I would.

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

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

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My husband, Zavier, had a shadow that followed him since childhood—a woman named Bridget. Their relationship was a toxic feedback loop, a never-ending war of wills where neither would ever admit defeat. Bridget didn’t just play games; she played for blood. Years ago, she set fire to our tent during a camping trip just to sabotage a weekend alone with Zavier. I still carry the jagged, silver scars of those burns on my shoulder. Later, on the day of our seaside wedding, she drove her car straight into the reception. The impact tore my knee ligaments to shreds, leaving me with a permanent limp and a cane I hated. For years, I lived in the crossfire of their twisted dynamic. I thought getting pregnant would finally bring peace, but it only made Bridget more feral. She manipulated a local man with a history of violent psychosis, pointing him at me like a loaded gun. He stabbed me in the stomach. I woke up in the ICU after a three-day blur of surgery and blood transfusions, barely clinging to life. The day I was discharged, I overheard Zavier talking to his best friend, Silas, in the hallway. The words turned my blood to ice. “The surgeons said the uterus could have been saved,” Silas whispered, his voice thick with confusion. “Why did you tell them not to? Why let them perform the hysterectomy?” Zavier’s voice was weary, but there was an edge to it—something almost casual. “You know how Bridget is. She’s relentless. If Elena got pregnant again, Bridget would only go further next time. It’s better this way.” “Then why the hell don’t you make her stop?” Silas pressed. There was a long silence. Then, Zavier let out a soft, lighthearted chuckle. “You don’t get it, Silas. This is the game we play. Honestly? Elena is… she’s lovely, but she’s boring. Without Bridget’s little disruptions, I wouldn’t know how to get through the day.” Every ounce of pain I had endured—the fire, the crash, the blade—was nothing more than a spark to keep their fire burning. I wasn’t his wife; I was the board they played on. If they wanted a game, I decided right then, I would show them how it ends. … Zavier continued, his tone shifting into something defensive. “Besides, Zavier and I… we owe this to her. You know we were supposed to be married. If Elena hadn’t shown up back then, Bridget and I would already have a family of our own.” Silas sighed. “It just feels like Elena is paying a price for a debt she didn’t even know existed. It’s not fair to her.” “It’s just a game, Silas. No one actually dies,” Zavier said, dismissing the concern. “And look at us—every time Bridget acts out, Elena clings to me more. Our marriage actually gets stronger. In a way, she should be thanking Bridget.” I leaned back against the hospital pillows, feeling like I had died and been resuscitated just to feel the sting of the cold air. He had kept me in the dark, a sacrificial lamb offered up for his entertainment. He didn’t love me; he used my trauma to manufacture a sense of intimacy. When Zavier finally walked into the room, my face was a mask of practiced composure. He moved with practiced grace, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking my hand. His touch felt like a snake sliding over my skin. “Hey, babe,” he murmured, his eyes full of faux-tenderness. “How are you feeling? Any pain?” I placed my hand over my abdomen. Beneath the bandages was a void where a life had once been. “My baby is gone. I can never have children again.” Zavier’s eyes welled with tears—a masterclass in acting. He squeezed my hand. “I know. And I’m so sorry. But listen to me: I don’t need a child to love you. You’re enough. I promise you, I’m going to make Bridget pay for this.” “How?” I looked him dead in the eye, watching for the slightest flicker of a lie. He blinked, caught off guard by my bluntness. “Don’t worry about that. Your only job is to heal. Leave the rest to me…” My heart turned to stone. I looked at him and realized I didn’t know this man at all. Had he ever loved me? Or was I just a prop in his long-running drama with Bridget? “I want her in prison,” I said. Zavier’s expression darkened. His voice dropped an octave. “She’s doing this to spite me, Elena. If I put her in a cell, it’s a public admission that I lost. I have a reputation to maintain.” He softened his tone, trying to placate me. “Besides, prison is too easy for her. Better to keep her close, under my thumb, where I can make her life miserable.” Always the same excuse. No consequences. Just the game. I remembered our last anniversary. We were at a high-end steakhouse when Bridget walked in, carrying a small, ceramic tureen. She had caught and killed the two macaws Zavier and I had raised since they were chicks. She’d had them cooked into a soup. She had smiled at us, her eyes dancing with malice. “A celebration isn’t a celebration without the kids, right? I brought them to you.” Zavier had stood up and poured the boiling soup over her head. At the time, I thought it was a righteous fury. But later, I saw photos on Bridget’s Instagram of new birds Zavier had bought her. The soup was just a move. A play. The chime of a cell phone broke the silence. Zavier glanced at the screen, his posture tensing. “I have to take this. It’s the office.” “What’s so important you can’t say it in front of me?” I asked, my voice raspy. He hesitated, then took the call on speaker. It was his assistant, Marcus. “Sir, we have a situation. Bridget… she just picked up a random guy at a dive bar. They’re at the Drake Hotel. She told the concierge to make sure you knew.” Zavier’s mask slipped. The boredom was replaced by a sharp, jagged jealousy. “She said what?” “She said… she’s going to conceive twins tonight just to one-up you.” Zavier bolted upright, his face contorting. “How dare she!” He caught himself, remembering I was there. He forced a scoff. “Whatever. She’s a degenerate. If she wants to ruin herself, let her. Send a few more guys to her room for all I care.” But his knuckles were white as he gripped his phone. “Zavier,” I said into the heavy silence. “I want a divorce.” He didn’t even blink. His eyes were fixed on the wall, his mind already at the hotel. Before I could repeat myself, he grabbed his keys. “I just remembered something urgent. I’ll be back this afternoon to take you home.” He didn’t wait for an answer. He ran. And he didn’t come back that afternoon. Or that night. I felt the familiar, hollow ache in my chest. I called him five times before he finally picked up. His breathing was heavy, ragged. “What is it, Elena?” “Where are you?” “I’m… I’m handling things. Getting justice for you and the baby. Bridget is going to regret ever touching you.” Behind his voice, I heard it. A woman’s sharp, high-pitched moan. I hung up. I knew exactly what kind of “justice” was being served. I forced myself out of bed and into a wheelchair. My legs felt like lead. Ever since the wedding crash, I could walk, but never for long. Zavier had always insisted on carrying me, kissing my scarred knees, telling me he would be my legs forever. I had believed him. I had let him make me weak so he could feel like a savior. By the time I reached our penthouse, the sun had set. I pushed open the front door and froze. The foyer was a disaster. Clothes, shoes, and jewelry were strewn from the entrance all the way to the master suite. My hands shook so hard I could barely steer the chair. The bedroom door was ajar. “Tell me,” Zavier’s voice was a low growl. “Who else were you going to have babies with?” “You’re so… damn… good at this, Max,” Bridget gasped, her voice dripping with spite. “Why don’t you try… making Elena pregnant again… oh wait, you can’t.” Zavier laughed, a dark, primal sound. “Shut up. Give me a child. I don’t want anyone’s but yours.” I felt a physical pain in my chest so sharp I had to double over. I thought about the day I found out I was pregnant. How convenient it was that Bridget had a madman waiting for me. How convenient it was that Zavier was nowhere to be found when the knife went in. They hadn’t just played a game. They had performed an execution. I went to the kitchen, grabbed a heavy chef’s knife, and forced myself to stand. The rage was a stimulant, numbing the pain in my incision. I entered the bedroom. They were a tangle of limbs on the silk sheets we had picked out together. They didn’t see me. Zavier leaned down, biting Bridget’s earlobe. “Listen, after tonight, you need to leave Chicago for a while. You went too far this time. It’s getting hard to keep Elena quiet.” Bridget scoffed. “Please. You’ve played that little mouse for years. She doesn’t have the brains to realize you’re the one pulling the strings.” “I’m doing this for your own good,” Zavier murmured. I stepped forward, the knife raised, and drove it down. Zavier sensed the movement at the last second and rolled. The blade buried itself in his shoulder. He screamed, his eyes wide with pure, unadulterated terror. He grabbed my wrist, his face pale. “Elena! What are you doing?” I wrenched the knife out, the spray of blood hitting my face. I felt nothing but a cold, crystalline clarity. “I’m ending the game.”

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When I walked in on the betrayal of the most powerful woman in the city, we were both unsettlingly calm. Confronted by my gaze, Margot Silvester didn’t even flinch. She remained nestled in the man’s arms, her expression as cool as a corporate buyout. She asked me what I wanted—money, shares in the Silvester Group, or perhaps a high-ranking executive position. I simply shook my head. I told her I only wanted a divorce. At those words, the two people in the bed exchanged a look before erupting into sharp, jagged laughter. Margot flicked the ash from her cigarette with a lazy grace. She sneered, asking if I was planning to run back to my ex-wife. She claimed she knew Elena had come to see me a few days ago, questioning why I thought a woman like that would ever blow up her life for me. After her cold laugh died down, she traced the man’s throat, her voice dropping to a silken purr as she looked at him. She asked him—Dominick—if he knew best whether his ex-wife would actually go through with a divorce. Dominick smirked, his eyes glinting with a smug, predatory triumph as he nodded. Of course he knew. Because his current wife was the woman I had once called mine. … “Big brother, just give it up already.” Dominick pulled Margot closer, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. “Honey, shall we go again? For old time’s sake?” Margot stubbed out her cigarette and reached for a fresh foil packet on the nightstand. As she tore it open, she shot me a mocking smile. “Still here? Waiting for a show?” “I don’t mind, Big Bro,” Dominick added with a rakish grin, kicking the duvet aside to flaunt himself. I clenched my fists, taking a slow, steadying breath. “I’ll draft the papers. Just let me know when you have a gap in your schedule for the filing.” Margot laughed, indifferent, and began to mess around with Dominick as if I were a piece of furniture. I couldn’t take it anymore. I turned toward the door. “Since you’re busy, I’ll take your silence as consent.” As I walked away, the biting winter wind made my eyes sting, turning them a raw, watery red. I thought I could handle this. I thought that having survived this exact nightmare before, I could navigate the wreckage with professional detachment. But I had underestimated the sheer, agonizing pain of an old scar being ripped open. Dominick called me “Big Brother” partly to spit in my face, but partly because it was the truth. We weren’t blood, but I was the closest thing he had. My parents died young. I dropped out of school to work three jobs just to keep a roof over my head. I found him on the street—another orphan, just like me. I put him through college. On his first birthday after graduation, I had gone to the apartment I was paying for to surprise him with a cake. Instead, the moment the clock struck midnight, I walked in to find two familiar bodies tangled together in the dark. Margot knew exactly how much it destroyed me when my ex-wife cheated on me with Dominick. She knew the sordid, public mess of that divorce. Back then, she had been my savior. She had used her considerable influence to drive Elena and Dominick out of the city, just to give me a sense of justice. She was the one who pulled me back from the ledge when I was ready to end it all. And now, she had invited the very man who broke me into her bed. What a pathetic joke. The lifeline I thought I’d grabbed turned out to be a razor wire. I hadn’t even cleared the driveway before three black Escalades swerved in, pinning my car. “Mr. Beckett, Ms. Silvester says you aren’t permitted to leave yet.” The security detail didn’t ask. They dragged me out of the car and hauled me back into the mansion. Upstairs, the sounds of their revelry echoed through the halls. I sat in the darkened living room, losing track of time until the house finally went quiet. Margot eventually descended the stairs, draped in Dominick’s arms. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said with a dry chuckle. My eyes snagged on their matching silk pajamas. Seeing my gaze, Dominick adjusted his collar with feigned casualness. “Like them, Big Bro?” he asked. “Margot told me you hand-stitched these yourself. Took you over a year, didn’t it? I could never do that kind of tedious work. I don’t have the patience.” I looked away, my voice raspy. “They’re just ten-dollar clearance rack junk. Only a fool would spend a year making something so worthless.” Margot’s hand froze on her water glass. Her eyes turned to chips of ice. “If they’re so cheap, then I’ll just give them to Dominick.” I forced a smile, loosening my grip on my own hands. “Dominick is my brother, after all. And you’re the richest woman in the city, Margot. It’s a bit stingy to only give him a cheap pair of pajamas.” I grabbed Dominick by the arm and hauled him toward the walk-in closet. “Come on, little brother. Let’s see what else you like.” “Not bad,” he muttered, feeling the fabric of a bespoke suit. He turned to Margot. “Can I really have this, too?” The fury on Margot’s face softened instantly. She reached out and patted his head with sickening affection. “Of course, darling.” So, I started handing it all over. The custom-made couple’s outfits? Yours. The watches engraved with our initials? Yours. Even the tuxedo I wore to our wedding? Take it. Whatever memory those items held, I purged them. I handed them over with a hollow chest and steady hands. By the time I was done, the massive closet was nearly stripped bare. As I reached for one last watch, Margot grabbed my wrist, her teeth gritted. “Gideon Beckett, you’re certainly being generous today!” she hissed. “Fine. Why stop at the clothes? Why don’t you just pack your bags and let him move in?” She stared at me, a flash of something—was it hurt?—flickering in her eyes before it was replaced by rage. “What? Can’t let go after all?” she taunted. “I knew you weren’t this noble. Never mind…” I ripped my hand back, my expression cold. “There’s nothing to let go of. I think your suggestion is excellent.” I walked into the master bedroom. Margot followed, barking threats. “I’m giving you exactly sixty seconds to pack. Anything left behind goes in the incinerator…” She stopped mid-sentence. I hadn’t even opened a suitcase. I just grabbed a simple canvas duffel bag and headed for the door. She hurried to block my path, breathless with indignation. “That’s it? That’s all you’re taking?” “Yes,” I said flatly. “Fine. Great,” Margot snapped, her eyes scanning the room, looking for something of hers that I might be stealing. Finding nothing, she pointed toward the driveway. “Then you aren’t taking the car, either. I bought that for you.” She had forgotten. She was the one who had begged me to take that car. She told me back then that with a car like that, no one—not even my ex-wife’s hired thugs—could ever throw me out on the street again. She promised she would always be my backup. Now, the metal of the key fob felt like a piece of dry ice in my palm. I tossed the keys to Dominick. “This is yours, too.” He caught them, a slow smirk spreading across his face. “You know, ever since we were kids, you always gave me whatever I wanted. I guess some things never change. You’re so good to me, Big Bro. Thanks!” He stepped forward to clap me on the shoulder. I stepped back, avoiding his touch. “Don’t thank me. Thank Margot. If she hadn’t reminded me, I would have forgotten to give it to you.” Margot’s knuckles turned white around her glass. “Those second-hand scraps don’t mean anything,” she said, her voice trembling with forced steel. “Dominick, whatever you want, I’ll get you a brand new version. Better than anything he ever touched.” Dominick wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, nuzzling her neck. “Thanks, Margot.” The two of them were locked in their own world. I didn’t look back as I walked out of the gates. Luckily, the Uber I’d called was already waiting. I headed to another property, a small condo in the city. But when I arrived, a line of security guards blocked the entrance. “Mr. Beckett, Ms. Silvester has given orders. You are not permitted to stay here.” I froze, then remembered. The deed was in my name, but it had been a gift from her. It’s funny how easily “gifts” are reclaimed when the giver decides they don’t like you anymore. I had been naive enough to think she was different. The wind cut through my thin jacket. I sighed. Fine. A hotel. “Sir, I need to see your ID,” the hotel clerk said. I reached into my bag, only to realize with a jolt that my wallet and ID were still in the center console of the car I’d just given away. “Looking for this?” The familiar voice came from behind. Margot was standing there, twirling my ID between her fingers like a poker chip. I knew she wasn’t going to just hand it over. “Apologize,” she said, her face a mask of indifference. “For what?” Before I could finish, a man stepped into the lobby, his face bruised and his fists clenched. “Big Brother, I’m sorry. I don’t want the car anymore,” Dominick said, trying to shove the keys into my hand. “You left your ID in there just to remind me that it’s yours, didn’t you? Fine. I don’t want any of it…” He grabbed my arm, and before I could react, he slammed my own fist into his jaw and threw himself backward onto the marble floor. “Dominick!” Margot rushed to him, catching him as he fell. I, however, stumbled and hit the floor hard. A sharp, white-hot pain flared in my abdomen. The world began to blur, voices echoing as if from the bottom of a well. The last thing I saw before I blacked out was Margot’s back as she carried Dominick away. … Three days later, I woke up in a VIP hospital suite. Margot was sitting by the bed, clutching a piece of paper, her face livid. Hearing me cough, she turned toward me, her voice trembling with suppressed fury. “Did you sleep with her that day?” I was weak, my head spinning. I had no idea what she was talking about. “Who? Sleep with who?” She threw the paper onto my lap. “Gideon, how long are you going to keep playing the martyr? She’s pregnant! Five weeks! Exactly five weeks!” “Count the days, Gideon. Five weeks ago was the day you went to see her. No wonder you were so calm about the divorce. You couldn’t wait to go back to her, could you? You thought a baby would make her choose you!” “But you miscalculated. She didn’t keep it!” The words hit me like a physical blow. I grabbed the paper and squinted at it. It was a medical record for a termination. My ex-wife’s name was at the top. But the math didn’t add up. It wasn’t mine. As I let out a hollow, bitter laugh, a pair of strong hands grabbed my arms. Margot was barking orders at her guards to drag me out of the room. “You’re getting a vasectomy. Today. I’m not letting you have a future with her.” I wanted to laugh in her face. If she had bothered to look at how pregnancy weeks are calculated—starting from the last period, not the date of conception—she’d realize I couldn’t possibly be the father. “Let go of me!” I found a surge of strength and kicked the guard away. “Get back!” “I’m going to say this once,” I panted, looking her in the eye. “There is nothing between us. Nothing.” She grabbed my collar, her eyes bloodshot. “You still want her that much? You want to go back to the woman who cost you your job and left you on the street? Gideon, are you really that pathetic?” Pathetic? I looked away, blinking back the moisture in my eyes. Yeah, maybe I was. My ex-wife tore my life apart, and I went and married a woman exactly like her. If that isn’t pathetic, I don’t know what is. She wanted me to have the surgery? Fine. Let’s do it. Let’s kill any possibility of a “family” once and for all. “Schedule it,” I said, my voice dead. “The sooner, the better.” Margot’s expression shifted from rage to a manic kind of joy. She threw her arms around me. “Oh, Gideon! I’m so glad you’ve come to your senses. I’ll set it up right now!” “Don’t be sad. Once you’ve completely cut ties with her, we can look into a reversal. We’ll have our own children.” I didn’t push her away. I just let her hold me. But Margot, there will be no children. And there will be no “us.” On the way back to the ward, she made three calls and settled everything. She sat by my bed, holding my hand with the same tenderness she used to show me. “Don’t be scared. I’ll be here the whole time.” I pulled my hand away and picked up my phone. I sent her a document. “Look at this. If there are no issues, I’ll have it printed.” “I’d like to get the divorce filed before the surgery—” My voice was drowned out by her phone’s custom ringtone. “Hello? Dominick? What’s wrong?” She stood up, her face tight with worry, and rushed out of the room. The woman who just promised to stay by my side was gone in an instant. I didn’t know if she read the agreement, but I had it printed anyway. I waited for her to come back so she could sign it. But the hours ticked by, and she never returned. I was wheeled into the operating room alone. While I was in recovery, I checked social media. My feed was flooded with photos of Margot and Dominick—at a bridal boutique, laughing over racks of white lace. The day I was discharged, she finally appeared. “I’m here to take you home,” she said. Dominick was standing right behind her. He rushed forward. “Big Brother, are you okay? Are you in pain?” He looked down, his face a mask of guilt. “It was all my fault. I was so clumsy that day. I’m just glad you’re alright.” I didn’t bother explaining. I stepped back, creating distance between us, and handed Margot the divorce papers. “I’ve already signed.” She scanned the document, her brow furrowing. “Why? Just because of the surgery?” She spoke as if she’d forgotten the original reason—that I caught her in bed with another man. But it didn’t matter now. Any reason was a good reason to leave. I put on my face mask to hide my pale, bloodless lips. “Think what you want. If you have no objections, let’s go to the courthouse now.” Margot didn’t speak. Her grip on the papers tightened until the edges crumpled. “By what right?” she hissed. “I’m willing to overlook your cheating, yet you’re the one demanding a divorce? Do you really love her that much?” A high-pitched ringing started in my ears. I didn’t hear a word she said. I just saw her lips moving, her eyes burning with a strange, misplaced sense of betrayal. I nodded vaguely, just wanting it to end. “Are you signing or not? Just give me an answer.” Seeing my indifference, she marched over to the nurse’s station, grabbed a pen, and scrawled her name in a jagged, violent script. “If she doesn’t take you back, don’t you dare come crawling back to me crying!” The moment the papers were back in my hand, I felt a weight lift. My steps felt lighter as I walked toward the exit. At the hospital gates, a tall, elegant woman was leaning against a black sedan. Elena. “You’re here,” she said with a soft smile. Behind me, Margot’s phone chimed with a notification. It was a message from her private investigator. [Ms. Silvester, we’ve confirmed the medical records. Mr. Beckett’s ex-wife’s pregnancy had absolutely nothing to do with him.]

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Diana dropped the bomb in our college alumni group chat: I’m divorced. In the very next message, she tagged Ternence. Will you marry me now? Reading those words, the memory of that absurd wedding three years ago rushed back, vivid and suffocating. That day, playing the role of the tragic heroine to perfection, Diana had abandoned the devoted second-choice man at the altar. She shoved her expensive bridal bouquet into my chest, told the gasping crowd that Ternence and I made a better pair, and ran out the chapel doors to chase her “true love.” I had stood there, frozen in tulle and shock, slowly turning to look at Ternence. His knuckles were white, gripping the wedding band so hard I thought it might cut into his skin. He watched the chapel doors swing shut behind her, his face a portrait of utter devastation. Then, amidst the rising whispers of the congregation, a terrifying, apathetic calm washed over him. He grabbed my hand and shoved the ring onto my finger. If Diana thinks we’re a good match, he told the crowd, his voice hollow, then I’ll listen to her. I’ll marry Jo. I had loved him in secret for ten years. In that chaotic, humiliating moment, my foolish heart actually thought my waiting had finally paid off. But it was right then that the floating text appeared. Glowing, venomous sentences began scrolling across my field of vision like a digital ticker tape only I could see. [Omg, the heroine is so brave for chasing true love! An absolute icon!] [This supporting girl is so pathetic. Does she actually think the second male lead is marrying her out of love? Just wait for the angst, she’s gonna get destroyed.] Looking back now, three years later, those spectral comments couldn’t have been more right. 1 The floating text, which had been dormant for three years, suddenly exploded across my vision, bright and jarring: [The audacity of this minor character trying to steal a man from our baby girl Diana! Does she have a death wish?] [The moment we’ve been waiting for! Diana is finally going to see how devoted Ternence is!] [The side-chick wife is so annoying. Ternence needs to divorce her right now!] [Manifesting them rekindling their romance at the reunion!!!] My chest tightened. I sat on the edge of our bed, bracing myself for Ternence to walk in and demand a divorce. Instead, a familiar, large hand reached out and pressed the lock button on my phone, turning the screen black. I looked up, meeting Ternence’s gaze. His eyes were impossibly soft. “Don’t be silly, Jo. I’m not going to that reunion tonight,” he murmured, his thumb gently smoothing the crease between my brows. “There hasn’t been an ‘us’ for a very long time.” He ruffled my hair affectionately and guided me under the covers. I rolled onto my side, and he slid in behind me, pulling my back against his chest. His warm breath ghosted over the nape of my neck. I forced my breathing to slow, mimicking the steady rhythm of sleep. Only then did he carefully, silently, slip out of bed. The bedroom door clicked shut. He was gone. I knew he would leave, yet the sharp ache in my ribs still took my breath away. I threw a trench coat over my pajamas, ordered an Uber, and followed him. Through the tinted glass of a private VIP booth at a downtown lounge, I watched Ternence snatch a rocks glass from Diana’s hand. “Diana, that’s enough!” The words were a reprimand, but the look in his eyes—the raw, bleeding tenderness—told a completely different story. “Let go of me!” she slurred, her eyes heavy with liquor as she lunged for the glass, only to stumble directly into his chest. Ternence went entirely rigid. The tips of his ears flushed a deep, betraying crimson. Diana began to hammer her fists weakly against his chest, tears spilling down her cheeks. “You’re loving this, aren’t you? Seeing me this pathetic. You think this is my karma for leaving you at the altar?” Ternence turned his face away, his jaw tight. He didn’t say a word. With a strained, agonizing restraint, he pushed her away. Diana grabbed a trash can and began dry-heaving, violently swatting away the napkin he offered her. Before she could reach for another drink, Ternence bent down and hoisted her over his shoulder with one arm. She kicked and screamed all the way out of the bar. He carried her to the sidewalk, finally setting her down by the curb. Without warning, she threw up, the mess splattering all over his designer shirt and slacks. This was a man who practically bordered on germaphobic. Yet, looking at the mess, he didn’t even flinch. Two years ago, to help him secure a massive corporate account, I had swallowed my pride and drank myself sick entertaining his clients. When he came to pick me up, I had stumbled toward him, seeking the safety of his arms. He had shoved me away with a look of pure disgust. You’re filthy, he had sneered, before throwing the jacket I had been wearing straight into a public dumpster. Now, watching Diana cry and vomit, mascara streaking her face, Ternence’s brow furrowed in deep distress. He gently rubbed circles into her back. “If he doesn’t want you,” Ternence whispered into the night air, “I do.” I froze in the shadows. It felt as though someone had reached into my chest and scooped out my heart with a rusted spoon. The glowing text flared violently before my eyes: [That is SO swoon-worthy! The devoted second lead is making his move! Get together already!] [Oh my god! Who could resist a man this hopelessly in love?] [Wait, he hasn’t divorced the wife yet. Our Diana can’t be a homewrecker! Hurry up and serve the papers, Ternence!] 2 My legs gave out. I crouched on the concrete, wrapping my arms tight around my knees. If he chose Diana… then what exactly were the last three years of my life? What were we? I don’t know how long I stayed huddled there in the cold. Eventually, I forced myself to stand, dragging my numb legs all the way back to our townhouse. The moment I walked through the door, Ternence rushed forward, pulling me into a desperate embrace like I was a precious treasure he thought he’d lost forever. “Jo, where were you? God, I was so worried.” A tiny, pathetic ember of hope tried to spark to life in the hollow of my chest. I raised my hand, ready to wrap my arms around his waist. Then I looked past his shoulder. Standing in the hallway, wearing nothing but his oversized white dress shirt and a pair of lace underwear, was Diana. “Oh, you’re back?” she purred, covering her mouth with a delicate hand to hide a smirk. She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you were out looking to catch a cheating husband?” She was waiting for it. Waiting for me to morph into the hysterical, insecure, crazy wife, screaming and demanding answers. Instead, I slowly lowered my hand. I placed my palms flat against Ternence’s chest and pushed him away. As I did, my eyes fell to his left hand. The gold wedding band was gone. In its place was a pale, distinct indentation—a ghost of the promise he had made to me. A wave of bone-deep exhaustion washed over me, heavy and suffocating. Catching the direction of my gaze, panic flashed in Ternence’s eyes. For the first time in our marriage, he scrambled to explain himself. “Diana just got back into the States. She didn’t have a place to stay, and she was drunk… It was dangerous out there, Jo. I couldn’t just leave her on the street.” He really didn’t need to explain. The moment he chose to bring her into our home without asking me, he made it clear that my feelings were entirely irrelevant. “Okay,” I said quietly. Ternence let out a ragged breath and suddenly grabbed my wrist, pulling me down the hall and into his study. I stumbled, genuinely surprised. He had never allowed me in his study. I had only ever sneaked in once, years ago, and discovered the reason why: it was a shrine to her. He backed me against the wall, his breathing fast and heavy. “Diana just went through a brutal divorce. I… I took the ring off because I didn’t want to rub my marriage in her face. I didn’t want to trigger her.” “Besides,” he added, his voice dropping to a persuasive, desperate murmur, “that ring was originally bought for her anyway. Tomorrow, let’s go to the jeweler. We’ll pick out a brand new one. Whatever you want, okay?” I didn’t answer. My eyes were fixed on the massive canvas hanging on the wall beside us. It was an oil painting. Five years ago, during a college camping trip in the Adirondacks, he had painted it for her. Diana was the ghost he had spent his whole life chasing. The golden girl. But wasn’t he the same to me? [Holy shit! What is going through this supporting character’s head? Does she seriously think he saved her back then because he liked her?] [Please, he just hated seeing the campus bullies picking on a weakling. He pitied her.] [Ternence is a saint, he would have saved a stray dog. This girl is delusional.] [If Diana hadn’t told him to marry her, and if Jo didn’t happen to have the same shaped eyes as Diana, do you think he ever would have given her a second look?] The glowing text scrolled mercilessly. My whole body turned to ice. So that was it. In Ternence’s eyes, I was never a wife. I was just a cheap understudy. A placeholder with the right shaped eyes. Ternence’s voice dragged me out of the digital crossfire. “We can…” He was rambling, making promises I couldn’t hear over the roaring in my ears. I blinked my dry, burning eyes and cut him off. “I’ll sign the divorce papers.” Ternence’s pupils contracted to pinpricks. “What?!” 3 I stared at him, bewildered by his shock. Wasn’t this what he wanted? Wasn’t this the grand confession where he told me he was leaving me for her? His face darkened. He reached over, unhooked the massive painting of Diana from the wall, and set it face-down on the floor. He took my hands in his, his voice dropping to a velvet, pleading register. “Jo, listen to me. I brought you into this room to show you that I’m done. I’ve let her go.” “I only see her as a little sister now. Please, don’t spiral over this.” I looked straight into his dark eyes. They were intense, desperate, and terrifyingly sincere. He didn’t sound like he was lying. “Then tell her to get out of my house. Right now.” Crash! The sound of shattering glass erupted from the doorway. Diana stormed in, her face twisted in fury. Before I could blink, her hand cracked across my cheek in a vicious slap. “If it weren’t for me, you never would have had a chance with him!” she screamed, her chest heaving. “You should be on your knees thanking me! Instead, you’re using the title of ‘Mrs.’ to throw your weight around and order me out?” My cheek throbbed, the skin burning hot and swelling instantly. Ternence’s face turned lethal. He grabbed Diana’s wrist, his voice a furious roar. “Apologize to her!” Diana violently wrenched her arm free, her voice hitting a hysterical pitch. “Why should I?!” “She’s been obsessed with you for years! She only pretended to be my friend to get close to you! She’s a manipulative, shameless bitch, and she deserves everything she gets!” Sobbing wildly, she turned and bolted from the study. The lethal anger in Ternence’s eyes vanished, replaced instantly by sheer, blinding panic. Without a second thought, he ran after her. [Yessss! Go off, queen! That manipulative side-chick totally orchestrated everything! Put her in her place!] [Aww, our devoted guy is chasing after her! He can’t stand to see her cry ~] [Tsk tsk. No matter how hard the understudy tries, she’ll never hold a candle to the leading lady!] I stood alone in the quiet study, my cheek burning. I didn’t understand why the voices hated me so much. Was it a crime to love someone quietly? To hope? Ternence didn’t come home that night. The promise to buy a new ring dissolved into thin air. The elaborate itinerary we had planned for our three-year anniversary today? Forgotten entirely. I lay paralyzed on the living room sofa, staring blankly at the ceiling. My phone buzzed. A notification popped up from a local lifestyle account on Instagram. The thumbnail caught my eye immediately. [He always listens to me.] The photo showed a man gripping the back of a woman’s neck, kissing her with an aggressive, consuming hunger. Their hands were locked together, fingers intertwined. Right there, on the man’s left hand, was the unmistakable pale band of missing skin. I would know that silhouette anywhere. It was Ternence. I clicked onto the poster’s profile. The pinned photo at the top of the grid hit me like a physical blow. [He wants to marry me all over again!] I looked down at the ring on my own finger. The woman in the photo was wearing a breathtaking, multi-carat pink diamond. I was wearing the plain gold band she had discarded three years ago. I scrolled further down her feed, every post sinking my heart deeper into an abyss. [After all these years, he never got the jasmine flower lasered off his chest. He’s so obsessed with me!] The air left my lungs. For three years, whenever we made love, Ternence had forbidden me from touching that specific spot on his chest. A few times, frustrated and insecure, I had asked him, “Have you ever really gotten over her?” His warmth would instantly turn to ice. Without a single word of reassurance, he would throw the blankets off, get dressed, and slam the door on his way out. It would trigger weeks of agonizing silent treatment. It always ended with me begging for forgiveness, swearing I would never bring her up again, just to get him to look at me. My head was pounding, a sickening pressure building behind my eyes. My hands shook as I gripped my phone. Against every instinct of self-preservation, I dialed his number. It rang eight times. Finally, the line clicked open. “Diana’s in the hospital. Whatever it is, it can wait until I get home.” His voice was clipped, distant, lined with a tightly coiled rage. Before I could form a syllable, he hung up. I couldn’t breathe. Following the geotag on the Instagram post, I ordered a car to Boston General. I needed to look him in the eye. I needed a final verdict on the last three years of my life. 4 I stood outside the private hospital room for a long time. A passing nurse carrying an IV bag paused and looked at me sympathetically. “Are you here for your friend? She had a terrifying night. Some drunk guy harassed her and nearly assaulted her in an alley.” The nurse sighed. “If her boyfriend hadn’t gotten there in time… God, I don’t even want to think about it.” With that, the nurse pushed the door open. The room went dead silent. The moment Diana saw me standing in the doorway, she went feral. She grabbed her pillow and hurled it at my face. “You couldn’t stand seeing him treat me well! You were so jealous you hired someone to—” She cut off with a sob. “Get her out of here! Make her leave!” Ternence immediately pulled Diana into his chest, wrapping his arms around her trembling shoulders. He shot a dark, lethal glare over her head, locking eyes with me. “If I find out you had anything to do with this, Jo, I swear to God…” I stood rooted to the linoleum floor. He didn’t need proof. He didn’t need an investigation. His first instinct was that I was a monster. The nurse gave me a look of absolute disgust, swapped the IV bag, and hurried out of the room. [Holy shit! Did the side-chick actually orchestrate an assault? That is pure evil! Trying to ruin the heroine’s purity?] [She’s so dumb. There are cameras everywhere, the cops will catch her instantly!] [Lock her up and throw away the key! Keep her away from my OTP!] Through the venomous scrolling text, Diana peeked out from Ternence’s embrace. A vicious, triumphant smirk played on her lips. “Stop playing your pathetic little games, Jo,” she sneered. “Let me spell it out for you. The only woman Ternence has ever loved is me. You will never, ever be me.” She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “Oh, and by the way? You know that miscarriage you had two years ago? It wasn’t an accident.” The room tilted. “I told him I was terrified that if you had his baby, he would stop loving me,” Diana smiled, her eyes glittering. “So he made sure you had an ‘accident.’” Black spots danced at the edges of my vision. It felt like a jagged piece of glass was being twisted into my heart. I couldn’t breathe. No wonder. When I was pregnant, Ternence had suddenly become obsessed with my daily routine, asking me exact times for everything. He was looking for the perfect window to tamper with the ropes on the porch swing I sat on every afternoon. I remembered the snap of the rope. The terrifying freefall. The crimson blood soaking through my summer dress. The baby was gone before the ambulance even arrived. But when I had first told him I was pregnant, he had wept. He had picked me up, spinning me around the living room. “You are the greatest gift the universe could ever give me, Jo. I’m the luckiest man alive.” And yet, because the woman he truly loved expressed a fleeting moment of insecurity, he had murdered our unborn child in cold blood. Tears spilled hotly down my cheeks. I lunged forward, raising my hand, and slapped Ternence across the face with every ounce of strength I possessed. He didn’t dodge. He took the hit, his head snapping to the side. I raised my trembling hand again, aiming straight for Diana’s smug face. But before I could make contact, Ternence shoved me. Hard. I flew backward, my spine colliding violently with the plaster wall. A blinding shot of pain radiated through my bones. “That’s enough!” Ternence roared, stepping between us like a shield. “I’m the one who did it! If you want to take your rage out on someone, take it out on me!” His eyes were wild, shifting, trembling—but there was not a single shred of remorse in them. I stared at him, my face the color of ash. My voice shook violently. “Ternence. In the three years we’ve been married… did you ever love me? Even for a second?” Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating. I slowly pulled my gaze away from his face. A numb, broken smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. I turned around and walked out. I stumbled out of the hospital doors, my vision blurred with tears, wandering aimlessly into the rain-slicked streets. Suddenly, a blinding pair of headlights cut through the darkness. CRASH. The impact threw me into the air, the world spinning in a terrifying blur before the pavement rushed up to meet me. [Oh my god! Did the side-chick just get wiped out?] [Good riddance! Now Ternence and Diana can finally be together in peace. No more dead weight!] [Hey upstairs, have some basic human decency, wtf!] Everything was spinning. I lay in a spreading pool of my own warm blood, the cold rain washing over my face. As the edges of my consciousness began to fray and fade into black, I thought I heard a voice screaming my name, raw and torn to shreds. “JO!” A faint, self-deprecating smile touched my lips. I’m done, Ternence. I’m not playing your sick little game anymore.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “434826”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I lay on the freezing asphalt, the sheer, blinding agony of a shattered spine pinning me to the earth. Blood pooled in my eyes, turning the world into a red haze, yet my vision locked onto the pristine SUV that had just plowed into me. The door swung open. My sister-in-law stepped out, her hand wrapped tightly around my daughter’s. Eight years ago, Camille came to my apartment in the middle of the night, drenched in rain and shivering violently. Damon, her golden-boy first love, had abandoned her. She had just found out she was pregnant. She fell into my arms, weeping, begging me to give her unborn baby a home. I said yes. I didn’t just marry her; I buried the secret of the child’s paternity so deep it practically ceased to exist. I loved little Ruby as my own flesh and blood. I even gave up my right to ever have biological children—quietly getting a vasectomy so there would never be a sliver of doubt or divided loyalty in our home. Now, my fingers twitched on the wet pavement. I reached out, my voice a wet, trembling rasp. “Get Ruby out of here. Please… don’t let her see this.” Bianca, my sister-in-law, stepped forward and viciously kicked my bleeding hand away. “Do you honestly still think you’re her father?” she spat, her eyes alight with a terrifying malice. “You’re nothing but Camille’s pathetic little lapdog. You will never replace Damon.” A cold dread, far worse than the physical trauma, seized my chest. I turned my head slightly, looking at the little girl I had raised for eight years. “Ruby…” I breathed. But her soft, round face was contorted with a coldness that chilled me to the bone. “Don’t call my name!” Ruby yelled, shrinking away in disgust. “You’re a liar! You stole my real daddy’s place. I want to watch you turn into a cripple, and then Mommy is going to throw you away!” 1 I collapsed back against the pavement. The light drained from the sky. As the blood seeped out of me, carrying my life with it, my heart turned entirely to ash. The darkness pulled me under. When I finally woke, the world was sterile and white. I was tethered to a hospital bed, a labyrinth of tubes running into my veins, an oxygen mask strapped over my face, and a catheter snaking beneath the sheets. The door pushed open. Camille walked in, dragging Ruby by the hand. Ruby dragged her feet, her small face scrunched up in profound annoyance. “Why do we have to be here? I don’t want to look at him! He’s a liar and I hate him!” “He just took a little tumble, he’s not even hurt,” the eight-year-old whined. “He’s just laying in bed trying to trick us again!” “Mommy, he’s faking it! He always lies!” Camille immediately turned her sharp, accusing glare on me. “What exactly did you do to her, Everett?” she demanded. “Why is she suddenly so terrified of you?” “You promised me you would raise her right. You promised you’d be a role model. And here you are, apparently lying to her face? What kind of father does that?” Ruby thrashed against her mother’s grip, her wooden doll swinging wildly and smashing directly into my fresh surgical wounds. A blinding, white-hot pain tore through my torso. “He’s not my daddy! He hits me!” Ruby wailed, burying her face into Camille’s coat, sobbing theatrically. Camille’s eyes darkened with a familiar, terrifying rage. Without a second of hesitation, she leaned over the bed and slapped me across the face. “How dare you ever lay a hand on my daughter!” The force of her palm cracked against my cheekbone, violently dislodging my oxygen mask. Anyone else in the world might have bought Ruby’s lie, but Camille? Camille knew better. I treated that little girl like she was the center of my universe. I had carried her on my shoulders through every zoo and park in the tri-state area. I held her hands when she took her first clumsy steps. I taught her the cadence of her first words. I was the one who showed Camille how to properly test the temperature of her midnight bottles. Once, during a hike in the Adirondacks, Camille lost her grip on Ruby’s hand on a steep descent. To keep the toddler from tumbling down the jagged rocks, I threw my body beneath hers, taking the brunt of the fall. I still had the faded white scar across the bridge of my nose to prove it. I didn’t have the breath to defend myself, and frankly, I no longer had the desire to. I simply turned my head, staring out the window at the bleak, gray sky. Camille huffed, crossing her arms. “Oh, so this is what we’re doing now? The silent treatment? I am speaking to you, Everett. Your daughter is crying, and you can’t even be bothered to comfort her? Are you even human?” The oxygen mask was suffocating me, preventing me from forming a single syllable, yet she stood there demanding a monologue. “When I married you,” Camille kept ranting, her voice rising, “I didn’t ask for your money. I just asked you to be a good father. How did you repay that promise? Look at how you’re acting right now!” She shoved my shoulder, hard. My chest tightened, an agonizing spasm seizing my lungs. I began to gasp, my body convulsing against the sheets as I fought for a sliver of air. Camille watched me struggle with utter indifference, stroking Ruby’s hair and whispering soothing words to the child, while continuing to throw daggers at me with her eyes. Thank God a nurse rushed in for rounds. She immediately shoved past Camille. “What the hell are you doing?” the nurse snapped, adjusting my mask and checking my monitors. “Can’t you see he just got out of major spinal surgery? Try having a conversation with a tube down your throat!” I closed my eyes. The woman I had shared a bed with for nearly a decade possessed less empathy for me than a stranger in scrubs. It was almost funny. “I heard Everett got into a little fender bender. Is he alright?” Bianca’s voice sliced through the tension as she strolled into the room. She walked right up to my bedside. Knowing I couldn’t speak, she leaned over, pretending to smooth out my blankets. Under the guise of adjusting the sheets, her manicured nails dug viciously into my bruised bicep. Her eyes locked onto mine, flashing a lethal warning. “Whoever hit him must have been driving awfully fast,” Bianca purred. “He really needs to be more careful. Thank God little Ruby wasn’t in the car.” Camille pulled her sister back. “Don’t touch him, Bianca, you’ll get your hands dirty. And you’re right. If Ruby had been in that car, I would have killed him myself.” She looked down at my paralyzed, broken body with a disgust so profound it made my stomach turn. “Look at him. A cripple. It’s karma.” I stared back at her, feeling a strange sense of vertigo. Was this really the same woman who had stood on my porch all those years ago, shivering in the rain, begging for sanctuary? And the little girl holding her hand—just days ago, she was a sweet, warm weight in my arms, kissing my cheek and calling me Daddy. Overnight, she had turned to frost. Some dogs, it seems, just bite the hand that feeds them. While the sisters gossiped over my bed, I quietly reached out and slipped my fingers around the nurse’s sleeve, squeezing tight. 2 Three days later, they finally removed the oxygen mask. I could speak. During that agonizing stretch, Bianca practically lived in my hospital room, using the excuse that she was “taking care” of family. But I had already communicated my fears to the nursing staff. Because the nurses were constantly popping in and out, Bianca never got the chance to finish what she started. By the same token, with her hawkish eyes constantly on me, I couldn’t make a phone call or reach out to the outside world. Camille and Ruby never came back. “Don’t hold your breath waiting for my sister,” Bianca sneered one afternoon, painting her nails by the window. “You’re half a man now. A vegetable. You think she’s going to spend her life pushing your wheelchair?” She paused, blowing on her fingers. “And don’t even think about going to the cops. I picked that road carefully. No traffic cams. No witnesses. You have absolutely nothing. Besides, if you try to put me behind bars, do you honestly think you’ll ever have a shot at saving your marriage?” It all clicked into place. The morning of the crash, Ruby had begged me to take a different route to school. A secluded, winding backroad. She claimed she wanted to pick a specific kind of wildflower she heard the other kids talking about. I had thought it was strange, but I never could say no to her. Bianca had orchestrated the whole thing. And she had used an eight-year-old to do it. She had taught my little girl how to lie, how to lead me into a slaughterhouse. But I was too exhausted to fight her right now. I swallowed the bile rising in my throat and stared at Bianca with a dead, hollow gaze. “I don’t even know why you hate me this much,” I said, my voice raspy. When Camille and I first married, her family was broke. Bianca was still in college. I paid her out-of-state tuition. I paid her rent. I funded her lifestyle. Looking back, I hadn’t done a single damn thing to wrong them. “But it doesn’t matter anymore,” I continued, turning my head to the ceiling. “If your sister wants a divorce, tell her I’ll sign the papers.” Just as the words left my mouth, I looked up. Camille was standing in the doorway. Throughout our marriage, Camille had always weaponized the threat of divorce. Whenever she felt insecure or threw a tantrum, she’d pack a bag and threaten to leave. And every single time, I was the one who folded. I’d apologize, buy her jewelry, book a trip to Aspen or Paris, and coax her back. This was the first time in eight years I had ever agreed to let her go. She stood frozen in the doorframe, a look of absolute, unadulterated shock washing over her features. She didn’t move for a long time. “You… you want to divorce my daughter? Who the hell do you think you are?” I shifted my gaze. The Pruitts—my mother-in-law and father-in-law—pushed their way into the room. “Are you screwing around with some whore on the side?” Martha, my mother-in-law, marched up to the bed, pointing a trembling finger in my face. Then she grabbed Camille’s arm. “Tell me, sweetie. Did he do something to you?” Because I was three years older than Camille, Martha always acted like I had robbed the cradle, despite the fact that I had paid off their mountain of debt, handed over a million-dollar ring, and bought them a house and a brand-new G-Wagon. It was never enough. Later, when Camille’s brother Tyler got married, I footed the bill for his lavish country club wedding, bought the newlyweds a starter home, and manufactured a cushy job for him at my firm. Back then, Tyler used to throw his arm around me, slurring through expensive scotch, calling me his brother. “You’re blood, man. Forget Camille, whatever happens, I’m in your corner. I’d take a bullet for you, Ev.” Now, Tyler lunged forward, grabbing the collar of my hospital gown and yanking me upward, ignoring the fresh stitches in my spine. “You think you can betray my sister, Everett? You think we’re just going to roll over and die?” Tyler spat in my face. Through the chaos of their screaming and grabbing, I looked at Camille. She just stood there. She watched them suffocate me, watched them tear at a man who couldn’t even feel his own legs, and she didn’t lift a finger to stop it. She didn’t say a word. Finally, Richard, my father-in-law, played the peacemaker. “Alright, that’s enough,” he muttered, pulling Tyler back. “Everett’s in bad shape. He needs his rest. Camille, honey, why don’t you take some time off work and stay home with your husband?” Work. Years ago, Camille claimed she wanted to be an independent woman, so I created a Vice President role for her at my company and handed over fifty percent of my personal equity. It was purely ceremonial. She didn’t have to lift a finger. Her “work” consisted of long lunches, spa days, and charity galas. She barely knew where the corporate office was located. But recently, she had been out of the house constantly. She told me her best friend was going through a brutal breakup and needed a shoulder to cry on. Now I knew exactly who she had been comforting. Hearing her father’s suggestion, Camille finally spoke up, her voice tight. “Fine. I won’t go in this week. I’ll stay at the house with you. I can cook whatever you want, or we can go for drives. Whatever you need.” Martha and Tyler immediately began singing her praises. “Do you know how rare it is to find a woman her age who’s willing to play nursemaid?” Martha huffed. “You better thank your lucky stars, Everett.” Camille stepped forward and unhitched the brakes on my wheelchair. We headed down to the hospital lobby. My car was idling at the curb, but the man behind the wheel wasn’t my usual driver. 3 Noticing my hesitation, Camille offered a tight, overly rehearsed smile. “Stan had a family emergency. I hired a temp to cover for him.” Through the tinted glass of the Mercedes, I caught a glimpse of the new driver. He was looking at me in the rearview mirror. His eyes were cold, mocking, and dripping with a cocky disdain—as if I were the hired help, not him. Furthermore, Stan had been on my payroll for five years. He was fiercely loyal. He would never take a leave of absence without calling me directly. I instinctively reached for my pocket. Then I remembered. My phone had been obliterated in the crash. Camille hadn’t brought me a replacement. For the past week, everyone in my life probably assumed I had dropped off the face of the earth. “Take me to the office,” I commanded the new driver once I was awkwardly hoisted into the backseat. Camille, who was leaning over to buckle my seatbelt, froze. Her fingers hovered over the clasp. “Why do you need to go to the office?” A microscopic flicker of panic crossed her face, her breathing hitching for just a second. I didn’t have the energy for her theatrics. I snatched the belt from her hand and clicked it into place myself. “I’ve been MIA for days. My phone is dead. I’m sure things are piling up. I need to make an appearance.” I raised my voice, directing it at the rearview mirror. “Let’s go. Do you need the address?” The driver didn’t blink. He didn’t acknowledge me at all. “Everett, the office will survive,” Camille said, quickly shutting my door. Instead of sliding into the back with me, she walked around and climbed into the passenger seat. “Take us home,” she told the driver softly. The moment the words left her mouth, the engine purred to life. It was immediately obvious he wasn’t a “temp.” He didn’t punch anything into the GPS. He didn’t ask for directions. He navigated the winding, affluent suburban streets with the muscle memory of a man who had driven this exact route countless times. “We’re here,” the driver grunted as we pulled up the sweeping driveway of my estate. He stepped out and opened my door. He stood there, his face set in a deep scowl, making zero effort to help me into my wheelchair. Finally, Camille walked around and snapped at him. “Give him a hand.” He shot her a look—an intimate, annoyed look—before begrudgingly extending an arm toward me. I pushed myself forward, using my upper body strength, and then abruptly stopped. During the ride, I had kept my eyes closed, fighting the nausea. But now, with the sunlight hitting the interior of the car just right, I saw them. Faint, delicate handprints pressed against the passenger side glass. And just beneath them, violent, desperate crescent-moon scratches etched deep into the leather backrest of the front seat. I certainly didn’t make those marks. So who did? “Everett?” Camille called out, sounding nervous. I was so consumed by the sight of the leather that I didn’t register the pure, venomous jealousy burning in the driver’s eyes as he stared at me. As he hauled me out of the car, his grip magically “slipped.” He let go of my arm completely. My paralyzed legs crumbled beneath me, and I slammed hard into the cobblestone driveway. With my lower body entirely dead to the world, I couldn’t brace myself. I lay sprawled on the stones, forced to crane my neck upward like a helpless animal. “My bad, boss,” the driver sneered. “Hands are a little sweaty.” He didn’t even try to hide the smirk. The blatant disrespect, the sheer humiliation of standing over a crippled man—it was intoxicating for him. I stared up at him. The rage roaring in my veins was deafening, but years of boardroom discipline kept me from screaming. “You’re fired,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “Get off my property.” Before the man could even react, Camille rushed to his defense. “Are you insane, Everett? He just slipped! God, why do you always have to be so dramatic? Are you really going to fire a man over an accident when you’re not even hurt?” Not hurt? I could feel the warm blood trickling down my chin where my face had scraped the stone. She didn’t even look at me long enough to notice. “Hey, if the boss doesn’t want me, I’m not gonna beg,” the driver said, tossing the Mercedes keys carelessly onto the front seat. He shoved his hands into his pockets and started walking down the driveway. “Look what you did! I swear, you are impossible to please!” Camille, who had half-heartedly extended a hand to help me up, instantly dropped her arm. She left me lying on the cobblestone and chased after him. My shoulder throbbed against the hard rock. I hissed through my teeth, the pain sharp and blinding. Camille didn’t look back once. “Damon!” I heard her cry out. The name echoed through the manicured lawns. It was the same name she had murmured in the hospital. The same name Bianca had hurled at me like a weapon. Damon. The deadbeat who had knocked her up and bolted. I lay paralyzed in my own driveway, hating myself. Hating the dead weight of my legs. Hating that my own body had betrayed me, rendering me as helpless as a dog on a chain. Suddenly, the heavy mahogany front door swung open. Ruby bolted out of the house. “Daddy!” she squealed. She ran right past me. She didn’t even glance down at the man lying bleeding on the ground. Instead, she threw herself into Damon’s waiting arms. 4 Camille had only taken a few steps down the driveway when Ruby burst out the door. Hearing her daughter shout “Daddy” and launch herself at Damon made Camille freeze. She had no idea how or when Ruby had learned the truth. Damon caught the little girl effortlessly, hoisting her onto his hip. The way they laughed and clung to each other wasn’t the awkwardness of a first meeting; it was the easy rhythm of a routine. It was a beautiful, picturesque family reunion. Except for the husband bleeding on the pavement ten feet away. Camille panicked, whipping her head around. Everett lay motionless on the ground, his eyes closed. He must have passed out from the pain. Maybe he hadn’t seen. She let out a long, shaky exhale and rushed over to Damon, grabbing his sleeve. “Stop making a scene. Take Ruby to the bakery down the street. I’ll meet you there in twenty minutes.” She turned back and quickly dialed the estate manager, ordering the staff outside to drag her unconscious husband indoors. “Get him to bed,” Camille instructed the housekeeper as they hauled Everett up the stairs. “Call me if he needs anything. Understood?” A gnawing sense of unease chewed at the edges of her mind, but her phone vibrated. It was Damon, letting Ruby talk. “Mommy, when are you coming? I’m almost done with my cupcake. If you don’t hurry, Daddy and I are gonna leave without you!” Hearing the pure joy in her daughter’s voice washed away any lingering guilt. “Just hold on, sweetie, Mommy’s coming right now.” She had fully accepted Damon’s place in their lives. They were playing house. The housekeeper followed her back to the foyer. “Ma’am… shouldn’t we call a doctor? Mr. Everett looks terrible.” Camille waved her off, irritated. “He literally just came from the hospital. What are they going to do? He’s just sleeping. He’s fine.” With that, she pulled the front door shut with a resounding thud. 5 The moment I heard the click of the heavy deadbolt, I opened my eyes. I waited until I was sure her car had pulled out of the gates. Then I called the housekeeper into the master bedroom. “Give me your phone,” I said quietly. “Don’t tell my wife I’m awake.” She hesitated. I held her gaze, my eyes cold and unyielding. “You do realize whose name is on the bottom of your paychecks, right?” She swallowed hard and quickly handed over the cell phone, nodding furiously. I immediately dialed Clark, my executive assistant. I told him to get over here immediately, and to stop by an AT&T store to buy me a new phone and a clean SIM card on his way. Next, I dialed my attorney. It was time to draft the divorce settlement. But my most pressing priority was the “accident.” Bianca had chosen that winding backroad because it was a dead zone for cameras. And because I had been unconscious, I had no idea who had towed the wreck, which meant I didn’t know where my dashcam footage was. “Clark,” I said when he finally arrived, handing me the sleek new iPhone. “I need you to pull up the traffic cameras on the main intersections at both ends of that backroad. Cross-reference every license plate that entered or exited that street around the time of my crash. Call the owners. See if anyone had a dashcam running.” It was a secluded area, but I vaguely remembered the blur of headlights passing by just before the impact. Someone had to have seen it. Clark scribbled furiously in his notepad, looking pale. “Mr. Everett… my god. What happened to you?” He had absolutely no idea about the crash. According to Clark, Tyler had walked into the executive boardroom last week and announced that I had fallen critically ill and had been flown to Switzerland for experimental treatment, with Camille by my side. Tyler claimed I had granted him temporary executive authority. They had even forged text messages from my phone to prove it. The board had been skeptical, but Camille had dialed into a Zoom meeting to corroborate the story. And since everyone in the city knew I had given her half my shares and worshipped the ground she walked on, they bought it. “Since you’ve been ‘gone,’ sir… Tyler and the VP have ousted half the senior leadership. They went on a hiring spree. And they’ve initiated several massive acquisitions.” Clark handed me a leather-bound folder. I flipped it open, and the blood drained from my face. The new hires were kids fresh out of college with zero corporate experience. Their only unifying qualification seemed to be that they were impossibly attractive. Tyler and Bianca had essentially turned my Fortune 500 company into a taxpayer-funded modeling agency. And the acquisitions? They were dumping millions into obscure, no-name startups. Pure money pits. “Sir, I…” Clark stammered, looking like he was about to vomit. “I did some digging off the books. A lot of those startups… they’re shell companies. Registered just weeks ago.” Embezzlement. It was so brazen it was almost insulting. Clark braced himself, expecting me to fire him on the spot. I just closed the folder and sighed, staring at the ceiling. In two weeks, they had nearly bled the quarterly profits dry. “It’s not your fault, Clark. I’m the one who gave them the keys to the kingdom.” There was no point in screaming. The damage was done. The only thing left to do was burn out the infection. I instructed Clark to hire a private security detail immediately. Ex-military. I wanted them stationed at the estate and the corporate lobby. I wanted all security codes changed, all keycards wiped. “Call an emergency board meeting for tomorrow morning,” I said, my voice hardening to steel. “Terminate Tyler and anyone with the last name Pruitt. And freeze every single corporate and personal account linked to my wife.”

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