Category: English

Last night, I received a termination email from HR. The reason? I was “too old,” “lacked a prestigious degree,” and was “holding back the company’s modernization.” This morning, the HR manager pulled me aside, looking at me with a mix of pity and helplessness. “Aria, you crossed the wrong person this time.” I followed her gaze. Across the glass partition, Chloe Davis was laughing loudly, surrounded by her clique of newly hired team members. Chloe was the CEO’s niece. Two weeks ago, she was parachuted into the sales department as the new Director. She brought a dozen of her college classmates with her, branding them as a “highly intellectual, Gen-Z elite task force.” Yesterday, I rejected her marketing proposal because it was completely detached from reality. Suddenly, Chloe glanced my way. Her eyes flashed with childish provocation. “Older, uneducated women really should just stay home and be housewives. It saves them from embarrassing themselves in the professional world!” I didn’t say a word. I just calmly signed the severance agreement. What she didn’t realize was that I didn’t need this job. The company needed me. A few minutes later, I posted a simple update on my Instagram: “Officially resigned. Excited for the next chapter.” Within seconds, my notifications blew up.

My former clients immediately began commenting under my post. “Aria! Come to my company. I’ll triple whatever salary they were paying you!” “Triple? That’s thinking too small. Aria, name your price. My firm is always open to you.” My Snapchat buzzed. It was Eleanor Vance, one of my biggest clients. “Aria, what is going on? We literally just discussed our quarterly contract. You resigned before we even signed?” I typed back, “I’m sorry, Eleanor. My name was put on the company’s restructuring list. A new representative will reach out to you shortly.” She sent a confused emoji. “You? Laid off?” “Is your firm trying to go bankrupt?” I replied with a helpless shrug emoji. She immediately texted back: “If you aren’t managing our account, I will have to reconsider this partnership entirely.” Seeing these messages, a wave of relief washed over me. Having spent ten years in this industry, I had built an ironclad network of high-profile clients. Many competitors had tried to headhunt me with massive signing bonuses, but I had always turned them down. I believed in loyalty. Ten years ago, when I freshly graduated from college, I sent out hundreds of resumes and got nothing but rejections. Just when I was about to give up, Richard Davis, the CEO of this company, gave me a chance. To repay that debt, I worked tirelessly. I treated every small task with absolute perfection. I secured deal after deal, single-handedly boosting the department’s revenue and ensuring everyone got their bonuses. But lately, things had gone sour. A week ago, Chloe and her “elite team” made a massive logistical error that almost cost the company millions. I pointed out their mistake during a meeting. That very night, Richard called me to “remind me of my place” and deducted my monthly bonus. Three days ago, Chloe encouraged the team to practice “quiet quitting” and leave exactly at 5 PM, leaving half-finished client presentations behind. I stayed up all night to clean up their mess. Yet, behind my back, they called me a “toxic micro-manager.” Suddenly, the company-wide WhatsApp group lit up. [Effective today, Chloe Davis is officially promoted to Executive Director of Sales.] The group chat exploded with celebratory emojis and congratulatory messages. Many of them were from junior employees I had personally trained and mentored from scratch. Those messages woke me up. This place was no longer worth my loyalty. “Aria.” Chloe pushed my office door open, looking around at my half-packed boxes. “Cleaning out your desk?” “Make sure you wipe it down before you leave. Consider it practice for your future housework.” “Take your time. Enjoy your final moments of contributing to this company!” I gave her a flat look and ignored her. My silence annoyed her. She stepped closer, pointing a manicured finger at me. “Why are you acting so high and mighty? So what if you were the top sales representative? I fired you with a single sentence.” I let out a soft laugh. “Is that so?” “Did your uncle actually sign off on this layoff list?” “Or did you make this decision all by yourself?” Richard had been on an business trip in Europe for the past two weeks, unreachable unless it was an absolute emergency. I knew for a fact he had no idea. After all, no sane CEO would fire their top performer of ten years—the very backbone of the company’s revenue. Chloe flinched slightly, her confidence wavering for a fraction of a second, before she puffed out her chest again. “My uncle adores me. My family practically owns this place. You’re just an employee. Why would there be any consequences for firing you?” “Stop trying to scare me. You’re just bitter because you’re washed up and nobody else wants you!” I smiled gently. “Chloe, I highly doubt you can handle this position.” She tried to snap back, but stumbled over her words. I continued, “Do you even know our clients’ preferences? Do you know how to negotiate a contract? Can you even draft a viable proposal?” “This position isn’t for a pretty trophy, Chloe. Your textbook theories won’t survive in the real world.” “I suggest you get to work. Otherwise, you might end up begging me to come back.” I picked up my box and walked past her. She shrieked behind me, “Beg you to come back? In your dreams!” “Leave your client logs before you go!” I tapped my temple. “They’re all up here. Good luck.” As I walked through the open office, not a single person stood up to say goodbye. I didn’t feel sad anymore. Instead, I felt a strange curiosity. Without me there to fix their mistakes and fight for their bonuses, I wondered how long they would enjoy their “stress-free” work life. Let’s see how long this company lasts.

On my Uber ride home, my phone buzzed constantly. I opened the old department WhatsApp group. Chloe was busy pitching her grand vision. “I firmly believe that in this new era, we need fresh minds. We are young, and we represent the future. The old ways of doing things are completely outdated and toxic!” “Starting today, no more overtime. Under my leadership, everyone will have perfect work-life balance!” The chat was flooded with praise, alongside passive-aggressive digs aimed at me. Suddenly, I was added to a new, unofficial group chat. The creator was Logan, the office kiss-ass. “Honestly, Chloe is a hundred times better than Aria. At least she doesn’t force us to finish projects before going home!” Others quickly chimed in: “For real. I’m so glad Aria is gone. Besides breathing down our necks, what did she actually do for us?” “Exactly! That old witch was obsessed with deadlines.” “With a boss like Chloe, I’d gladly stay here forever.” “And she’s so sweet, she never raises her voice.” The messages piled up, each one more toxic than the last. Until I accidentally hit a thumbs-up emoji in response. The next second: [You have been removed from the group chat.] I stared at the screen. To say I wasn’t hurt would be a lie. I never liked making people work late. But when you lack the skill, you have to put in the time. Clients don’t pay for excuses. Every time we stayed late, it was because someone had botched a file, and I was always the last one to leave. I even fought HR tooth and nail to get them overtime pay. And yet, to them, my protection was “oppression.” I opened Instagram and saw a new post from Stella, my former mentee. “Nobody knows how exhausting it is to constantly be overshadowed by someone who thinks they are everyone’s mentor.” Underneath, someone commented, “Stella, you’re finally free now that she’s gone!” Stella replied, “Yes! Nobody knows how much I’ve had to endure.” I laughed out loud, utterly amused. Stella was the first intern I had personally trained. I poured my heart into mentoring her. When she made mistakes, I took the blame. When she needed a win, I put her name on my successful deals. When Chloe was promoted, Stella was the first to buy her flowers. And when I left today, she didn’t even look up from her screen. I thought she was just scared of Chloe’s reaction. But now I saw her true colors. Well, this made things easier. If we ever met in the business world again, I wouldn’t have to let personal feelings get in the way of crushing her. After I got home, I muted all work contacts and turned my phone to ‘Do Not Disturb.’ For ten years, I had skipped meals and lost sleep for this company. My friends told me to relax, and my family told me to stop being so stubborn. Finally, I was free. For the next few days, I didn’t look for a job. I needed to breathe and actually experience life. Occasionally, I would see updates about the company through mutual acquaintances. It was always Chloe buying the team boba, Chloe treating them to lunch, and so on. These posts were always uploaded right at 6:00 PM, almost as if they were trying to prove a point to me. I ignored them. Until Friday arrived, and the social media updates suddenly went dead silent.

I woke up on Friday morning to forty-five missed calls and countless urgent text messages. Most of them were from managers of other departments. [Aria, the marketing proposal is a mess. Call me back immediately!] [The client is demanding an emergency meeting. We need you to handle this.] [Where are you?] Even the CEO, Richard, had called me from Europe. Clearly, they had no idea I had been fired. When I picked up Richard’s next call, his voice boomed through the speaker. “Aria! Why aren’t you answering your phone during business hours? Do I pay you a top-tier salary so you can go on vacation whenever you want?” “The other department heads are complaining to me! The entire sales department is in absolute chaos!” “And what happened with Eleanor Vance? We were about to sign the contract, and now she’s pulling out because she says our new proposal is ‘garbage’!” “You’ve never made a mistake like this in ten years. Have you lost your mind the moment I left the country?” I waited for him to take a breath. “Mr. Davis, actually, I no longer—” He cut me off instantly. “I don’t care what excuse you have! Get back to the office right now and fix this mess!” He slammed the phone down. When I tried to call back, it went straight to voicemail. My phone rang all day, but I didn’t answer. By evening, a friend from another department filled me in on the drama. Apparently, after I left, the sales department fell apart. Chloe’s “elite team” was just a bunch of pampered college graduates who had no practical experience. Without me directing them, they had no idea how to execute a project. When a major client demanded a revised proposal, they couldn’t produce one, so they simply resubmitted an old draft with a few words changed. The client was insulted and blacklisted the company on the spot. Chloe, who usually rolled into the office at 10:00 AM, completely panicked when she heard the news. She lost her “sweet, modern boss” persona and screamed at everyone. My friend sent me a leaked video of the office. Chloe’s voice was screeching: “I give you guys perks! I let you go home early! And this is how you repay me?” “Why is the proposal not ready? Why did we lose the account? Are you all completely useless?” “Nobody goes home tonight! You will sleep in this office until this is fixed!” My friend texted: “Aria, you should have seen their faces. They were stunned. And Chloe got ripped apart by the board of directors for over an hour. She came out of the meeting crying.” Fixing a crisis like that required years of client data and industry experience—things Chloe couldn’t learn overnight. Without me, they were sinking. At 8:00 PM, I posted a photo of a freshly baked lemon cake on my Instagram. “Rainy days are perfect for baking and sleeping in.” I wasn’t a saint. They had humiliated me when I left, and I wasn’t about to play the hero now. Soon, a comment popped up from one of my former team members: “Aria, we finally realize how much you did for us.” It was deleted thirty seconds later. The next morning, everyone in the sales department shared Chloe’s late-night Instagram post. It was posted at 1:00 AM: “What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger! Rising above the challenges!” I chuckled and closed the app to update my resume. Just then, Stella called me. After a moment of hesitation, I answered. There was silence on the other end for a long time, followed by soft, muffled crying. “Aria…” she sobbed. “Can you… can you please come to the office?” I didn’t hesitate. “No, Stella.” She sounded shocked by my cold tone. After all, I used to protect her no matter what. “Please, Aria. If you don’t come, I’m going to get fired.” I smiled. “Well, let me see what’s going on then.” I hung up and called an Uber. I wanted to see exactly how she was going to get fired.

As soon as I walked into the lobby of the office building, I felt the heavy atmosphere. I stepped into the elevator and bumped into Richard, who had just returned from his flight, along with several board members. I nodded politely. “Aria, I hear Chloe has been doing a fantastic job lately?” Marcus Sterling, one of the senior board members, asked me. Before I could speak, I felt Richard shooting a warning glare at me from behind Marcus. “Actually, Mr. Sterling, I haven’t been at the office, so I wouldn’t know,” I replied smoothly. “If you want to know how she’s doing, you should see for yourself.” Marcus nodded. “Chloe is a bright girl,” Richard chimed in quickly, trying to control the narrative. “Aria was out for a few days, and things got a bit messy, but Chloe stepped up and saved the day. In fact, we are about to sign a major contract with Mr. Arthur King from Star Media today!” Star Media was the biggest player in our industry. I had dealt with Arthur King before. He was notoriously difficult and extremely strict. The only reason we had even reached the contract stage was because I had spent weeks studying his preferences, addressing every possible risk before he could even ask. “And,” Richard added proudly, “Chloe’s elite team of young graduates is incredibly capable. I’m planning to have them run parallel to Aria’s team to foster some healthy competition.” I mentally rolled my eyes. He wanted us to do all the heavy lifting while his niece took the credit. I was so glad I left. Ten years of loyalty, and this was how I was treated. “What do you think, Aria?” Richard asked, testing me. I smiled. “Mr. Davis, you might not know this, but I actually—” The elevator doors opened. “Let’s talk in the conference room,” Richard interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. “We need to sign the contract with Mr. King first. Aria, come with us. Watch and learn.” I didn’t get a chance to object before they ushered me down the hall. When we entered the conference room, Stella saw me and let out a massive sigh of relief. Chloe, however, sneered. “Why is Aria here? Did you finally realize you have nowhere else to go and come back to beg for your job?” The board members’ faces fell instantly. “Who are you talking to?” Marcus asked, his tone sharp. Richard jumped in, sweating. “This is my niece, Chloe. She’s young and sometimes speaks without thinking. Please don’t mind her.” Marcus glared at him. “Aria is the pillar of this department. Frankly, keeping her just in sales is a waste of her talent. You should treat her with respect.” Chloe froze, not daring to say another word as she shrank into the corner. A few minutes later, Arthur King arrived. When he saw me, he smiled and walked over to shake my hand. “Aria! I heard from Eleanor Vance that you had resigned, so I was actually planning to cancel our meeting today. But your team assured me you were still working here. I’m glad it was just a rumor.” I looked at Stella. She looked back at me with pleading, desperate eyes. So that was her plan. She wanted to use my name to secure the deal, and then take the credit. I looked away from her and faced Arthur. “Mr. King, you didn’t hear a rumor,” I said clearly. “I was indeed laid off by our new Director, Ms. Chloe Davis.”

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My best friend, Zach Taylor, was complaining to me again. He said his girlfriend had a crazy high sex drive and he could barely keep up with her in bed. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. Because my own fiancée, Chloe Vance, was completely ice-cold. She absolutely detested intimacy. Years ago, Chloe was assaulted, leaving her with severe psychological trauma. Ever since, she panicked whenever a man touched her. I loved her, so I respected her boundaries and locked my own desires away. Today was Zach’s wedding day. He asked me to take the ten-carat diamond ring he’d prepared and deliver it to his bride in the bridal suite. As I walked in, I saw a familiar back sitting in front of the vanity mirror, wearing a stunning white lace wedding dress. When my eyes locked onto the butterfly tattoo on her shoulder blade, my entire body went numb. I could never mistake it. Zach’s bride was none other than my frigid fiancée, Chloe. Sitting next to her was our mutual friend, Ashley. “Chloe, are you really going through with this? If Ethan finds out, he’s going to lose his mind.” Chloe paused, a flash of pain crossing her eyes before instantly vanishing. “He’s in New York, thousands of miles away. My assistant locked down all the media channels. He won’t hear a single rumor.” Ashley panicked. “But you can only have one legal husband! What about your five years with Ethan?” “We won’t divorce because Ethan and I never legally registered our marriage at City Hall. The papers we signed were fake.” Chloe’s voice was bone-chillingly cold. I leaned against the hallway wall, clutching the ring box so hard that the metal edges cut deep into my palm. Drip. Drip. Fresh blood splattered onto the marble floor. She admitted it. Our marriage was a lie. What did those five years of romance, surprises, and devotion even mean to her? Chloe’s expression softened into something tender as she continued. “Years ago, when I was drugged at that party, I ended up in Zach’s bed by mistake. I got pregnant with his child. I couldn’t let our daughter grow up without a father.” I moved, slipping the ring box into my pocket. The two people I trusted most in this world had been sleeping together behind my back, and they had a four-year-old child to show for it. I wanted to storm in. I wanted to tear those two cheaters apart. But Chloe’s next words stripped away any right I had to complain. “When Victoria found out about Zach and me, I thought she would hate me for betraying Ethan,” Chloe murmured, her eyes shimmering with emotion. “But instead, she thanked me. Because of this, she found her biological son. Zach is the real heir to the Reynolds family. Ethan has been living high on the hog in Zach’s place for over twenty years, while Zach was suffering out there. Zach was the one who was supposed to be my childhood sweetheart. He was the one who was supposed to live this luxury life with me.” Ashley was stunned. “Then what about Ethan? You’re just going to throw him away like trash?” “He only got to be with me because he stole Zach’s identity. All I feel for him now is a bit of pity…” As Chloe’s voice drifted off, I clenched my teeth so hard they nearly shattered. The words *child of a fraud* and *thief who stole a life* echoed relentlessly in my head. I turned and walked out of the wedding venue. Behind me, the minister was starting the vows. I paused, my footsteps dragging. At our commitment ceremony years ago, Chloe’s father had thought she hated the arranged marriage with me and tried to swap the groom. When Chloe realized it wasn’t me at the altar, she had thrown a massive tantrum, chasing me all the way to London to beg me back. It was the same grandeur, the same luxury cars, the same church. But today, the man she was marrying was someone else. My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from Victoria. *”Ethan, there’s something I’ve kept from you for a long time… You were switched at birth. My real son is refusing to return home. He says he will only come back if you pack your things and go back to your biological parents.”* My throat tightened as I watched the stage. My finger hovered over the screen. On stage, Zach was sliding the ring onto Chloe’s finger. She held Zach’s arm, and as she looked out at the crowd, she finally spotted me. Her face paled, and she quickly rushed down the aisle toward me. “Ethan, don’t get the wrong idea. Zach was being forced by his family to marry a twice-divorced, ugly older woman. I only did this to save him. I didn’t want you to watch your best friend get miserable.” Her excuse was pathetic. Seeing her standing up there, softly accepting another man’s kiss on her forehead, compared to the countless nights she had recoiled from my touch… It was a sickening joke. Noticing how white my face was, Chloe dragged me into the dressing room. She poured some of my heart medication into her palm and held it out. “Ethan, you look terrible. Take this.” I didn’t take it. The pills slipped through her fingers, scattering all over the floor. “Chloe, those nights you refused to sleep in my bed… was it really because of your PTSD? Or did I just disgust you?” My voice shook violently, my chest heaving. I wanted an answer. I wanted her to admit she had loved me, to admit her physical rejection wasn’t because of who I was. Suddenly, a little boy rushed out from behind the rack, shoving me hard against the wall. “Bad man! Don’t hurt my mommy!” I stumbled backward, my head slamming hard against the sharp edge of the window sill. A warm liquid instantly flowed down my forehead, staining my white collar crimson. The little boy sat on the floor, wailing. Chloe’s hand, which had instinctively reached out to catch me, froze. She pulled her hand back and scooped the boy into her arms. “Ethan! No matter how angry you are, you can’t take it out on a child!” I leaned against the wall to steady myself, looking at the two of them. My head had never been clearer. I tapped my screen and sent the reply to Victoria. *”I understand. I’ll swap back. I’ll pack my things and move out within a week.”*

Zach rushed into the room, shielding Chloe and the boy behind his back, looking at me with hostile eyes. But once he saw the blood dripping down my face, his expression faltered. “Ethan… the kid didn’t know any better. Don’t take it to heart.” “We’ve been brothers for over a decade,” I said, my voice hoarse and raw. “Zach, how long have you two been doing this behind my back?” “I never knew she had two completely different faces—one for you, and one for me.” Zach panicked, his lips trembling. After a long silence, he seemed to find his courage, raising his chin. “Before I knew I was the real Reynolds heir, I was so jealous of how Chloe treated you.” “But ever since that night she climbed into my bed by mistake, I saw the necklace on Victoria’s neck. That’s when I knew. I am the real son.” Chloe stepped out from behind Zach, standing firmly by his side. I took a deep breath. “Even if you hated the universe, why did you have to sleep with my woman? Zach, we’ve been brothers for so long…” Zach’s eyes turned bloodshot, his emotions boiling over. “Don’t give me that charity bullshit! If we hadn’t been switched, all of this—including Chloe—would have been mine! Am I wrong?” “I would have been the rightful heir of the Reynolds Group, not some guy hiding in the shadows while my son is called a bastard!” He glared at me, his voice full of resentment. “Ethan, have some conscience. You enjoyed my luxury life for over twenty years. How could you live so peacefully?” Chloe instinctively reached out to support me as I swayed, but then she looked at Zach with a sigh. “Zach, stop it.” “Why should I stop? Why do I have to be the one who suffers? I should just leave then!” Zach yelled, spinning around and storming out of the room. Chloe’s throat bobbed. She gave me a long, complicated look. “Ethan, I…” “Just go,” I whispered, closing my eyes to hold back the sting. If his suffering was because of me, I had no right to argue. But in my heart, I kept asking myself: what did I do wrong? What luxury did I actually enjoy? For the last twenty years in the Reynolds family, Victoria had trained me ruthlessly to be the perfect successor. Anything I wanted, I had to earn myself. At seventeen, while my classmates went on European vacations, I was stressing over college tuition, book fees, and living expenses. I had no holidays, no childhood, and even my marriage was pre-arranged. I thought my life was just a set program. I never expected Chloe to be my only variable. And now, that variable had turned into a bomb that blew my life to pieces. As I walked out of the venue, I ran right into Victoria. “Victoria, you…” “I am not your mother,” she interrupted coldly. My throat felt like it was blocked by concrete. I forced myself to correct my words. “Mrs. Reynolds.” “Where is Zach?” she asked, searching the lobby. When she saw him across the street, she ran straight toward him without looking back once. I watched her go. Across the street, Zach was crouching by a tree, venting his anger. Chloe was half-kneeling beside him, comforting him. It looked exactly like our engagement party years ago. Back then, Chloe had stood before Victoria, promising to always stay by my side and love me forever. Looking at it now, it was nothing but a sickening farce. My phone rang continuously. I picked it up. “Is this Ethan Reynolds? This is the National DNA Registry. We’ve found a match for your genetic profile. We need one more blood sample to confirm. Once the results are out, we will notify you immediately.” “Okay. I’ll send it as soon as possible.” I hung up, walking aimlessly down the street. Suddenly, Chloe ran up and grabbed my arm. “Ethan! I’m not going to leave you just because of your identity. Can you please be reasonable? Don’t make things difficult for me.” If I didn’t know our marriage was a sham, I might have actually believed her. I might have pitied her. I looked up, barely dodging a speeding car. Seeing my silence, her tone softened. “The Reynolds Group is holding a press conference tomorrow to announce Zach’s return. He’s feeling very insecure right now. Since you two used to be close, I need you to be there to support him and show the media there’s no bad blood.” I nodded slowly, my body swaying in the cold wind. Through the corner of my eye, I saw Chloe reach out to steady me, but Zach pulled her back from behind. I averted my gaze. These things never belonged to me anyway. Giving them back was only a matter of time. “Fine. I’ll be there.” The day of the press conference arrived. The reporters were all waiting to see the downfall of the once-proud Ethan Reynolds. They wanted to see the imposter fall from grace. But in the very last minute of the countdown, the entire venue erupted into chaos. I snapped my head around to look at the giant screen. The embarrassing photos of Zach’s wild past had vanished. Instead, they had been replaced by compromised, highly inappropriate photos of me—each one ten times more humiliating than anything Zach had ever faced. A flood of abuse immediately came crashing down on me from the crowd. “I knew this Ethan guy was trash! He was afraid the real heir would take his spot, so he leaked these to ruin him!” “How malicious! The real heir is the victim here!” “Put Ethan in jail! Get him out of here!” The press conference was abruptly canceled, and the room descended into madness.

Zach clutched his head, looking like he was on the verge of a mental breakdown. He glared at me with pure hatred. “Ethan! How could you do this to me? I never wanted to hurt you, but you’re trying to drive me to suicide!” I opened my mouth to explain, but a barrage of plastic water bottles slammed into my face and chest, cutting off my words. I shielded my head. Through the gaps of my arms, I saw Chloe quickly ushering Zach out of the hall. “I didn’t do this! Chloe! Do you really think I’m that kind of person?” I screamed. But before I could take a step, my feet swept through empty air. Someone had shoved me violently from behind. I fell off the two-meter-high stage, my vision instantly going black as the insults continued to rain down. When I woke up, I was in a damp, dark basement. A harsh light turned on, revealing me tied hand and foot, kneeling on the cold concrete. Chloe stood half-hidden in the shadows. She dragged me up by my collar. “You did it.” Her voice was filled with absolute certainty. “I didn’t! Chloe, is this really who I am in your eyes? I told you, I would never do something so pathetic!” I desperately tried to explain, but she didn’t listen to a single word. “Set up the cameras,” she ordered coldly. Several burly men walked in. They dumped a bucket of filthy sewer water right over my head. Their grip was brutal and ruthless. *Click. Click. Click.* The camera shutters went off. I reeked of filth, my face pressed hard into the muddy floor. Every shred of my dignity as a man was crushed to dust. My eyes burned red. “Are you insane? I have proof that it wasn’t me!” But I knew Chloe. Once she set her mind on something, she was merciless. Just like when a major shareholder had insulted me years ago, she had ruined his career within a day, making sure no company in the country would ever hire him. Now, she was doing the same to me—to protect Zach. “Zach is on the verge of jumping off a building, yet he still begged me not to punish you!” Chloe said, her face twisted with anger. “He suffered for twenty years, and all he wanted was some security. How could you hate him this much?” “Do you want to see him dead?” I shook my head violently, spitting out the dirt. “I… didn’t… do… it…” “Liar,” Chloe sneered. “You used to tell me everything. If you didn’t do it, why didn’t you show me the proof earlier?” I let out a bitter laugh. I used to throw tantrums because I knew she loved me. Now? I was nothing to her. She waved her hand. Two bodyguards stepped forward, tightening the ropes around my neck and arms until they bruised. They forced my head up to face a large monitor. It was Chloe’s phone screen, being mirrored. Without a shred of hesitation, her finger tapped the screen, uploading hundreds of compromised photos of me online. Within minutes, it trended to number one on social media. With every refresh, my dignity was dragged deeper into the mud. The negative posts about Zach were instantly buried by the scandal surrounding me. Thousands of people screenshotted, shared, and insulted me. The most disgusting slurs flooded my Instagram and SnapChat. “Turns out the fake heir took those photos himself to frame the real one!” “He’s a designer, right? I bet all his work was plagiarized too!” I watched in horror as the design portfolio I had worked on for over a year was reported and taken down. My social media accounts were permanently banned. I was held down, unable to even lower my head. Shame burned through my body like a hot iron, from my scalp to my toes. My vision blurred, and right before I passed out, Chloe’s soft voice drifted into my ears. “Ethan, be good. You owe this to Zach.” The same Chloe who used to shield me from Victoria’s demands was now forcing me to submit. I managed a smile that was uglier than crying. I regretted everything. I cursed myself for ever holding onto a shred of hope for her. When I woke up again, I was in a warm bed. I sat up abruptly. Chloe was standing beside me, holding a glass of warm water and some painkillers. Her face was incredibly gentle. It was as if the woman who had stripped me of my dignity yesterday didn’t exist. “Ethan, are you hungry?” She tucked the blanket around me. Her every movement was filled with the devotion of the old Chloe. It felt like the humiliation of yesterday was just a nightmare. My body trembled as I pushed her away, getting out of bed and walking out of the room. But when I stepped into the living room, my breath hitched. Hanging right in the center of the wall was a massive wedding portrait—of Chloe and Zach. I froze, looking around the penthouse. Every corner of this room was filled with things I had once dreamed of.

I remembered holding a picture of a limited-edition graphics card—one of only ten in the world—and smiling at Chloe. “This is a masterpiece, but it’s impossible to get. Chloe, do you think you could find one for me?” Chloe had snuggled into my chest back then, whispering, “I’ll get the whole set for you, I promise.” I had waited for a long time, but she never mentioned it again, so I assumed she forgot. I never managed to get my hands on it. But here, in Zach’s apartment, the entire set was proudly on display. The high-end gaming setup, the custom ergonomic chair, even the small collectible figurines—everything I had ever begged for was sitting here. She had given all of it to him. Chloe’s phone rang, and she quickly hurried out of the apartment to take the call. A moment later, Zach walked out of the bedroom, holding a plate of my favorite food. I silently took the plate and started eating, mouthful by mouthful. Tears silently streamed down my face. Honestly, I had never hated him. We had been brothers for over ten years. We had eaten cheap street food together and shared expensive dinners. I never expected us to end up like this over the same woman. “Zach, do you still hate me…” Before I could finish, a sharp, agonizing pain flared in my abdomen, forcing the words back down my throat. I doubled over, cold sweat instantly drenching my back as my knees crashed onto the floor in front of him. “Zach… call an ambulance…” I gasped. But instead of helping, Zach lunged forward, his hands gripping my neck as his boot slammed hard into my lower abdomen. “I’m sorry, Ethan,” he hissed, his face contorting with malice. “But I have no choice.” “If you can still have kids, Chloe will never let you go. She’ll stop taking her birth control pills and try to have another baby with you.” “She’s pregnant with my child right now. I won’t let anyone threaten my baby’s future.” I shook violently, the pain in my gut turning into a white-hot scream. But Chloe and I had never… Unless… Zach was telling the truth. The excruciating pain in my lower abdomen intensified. That night wasn’t a dream. Chloe had slept with me, but she had treated me like Zach. And then, she took the morning-after pill. I had thought it was just a fever dream. But it was real. She had fallen for Zach a long time ago. That was why our child would never be born. My mind flashed back to Chloe’s first pregnancy, how carefully I had cared for her. But when one of my business rivals sought revenge, Chloe had miscarried at seven months upon hearing the news. The hospital floor had been covered in blood that day. I had held her tight, her hot tears soaking my neck as she whispered, “It’s okay, Ethan. We’ll have another baby. As long as you’re safe, nothing else matters.” I slammed my fist into the floor, the physical pain bringing back a sliver of my sanity. I wanted to fight back, to save what was left of my pride. But it was useless. Zach’s hands clamped over my mouth, suffocating my screams. “I’ve been sleeping with Chloe this whole time. Since I’m the real heir, she wanted to make it up to me. She wanted to give me the life she promised you!” “Every time I talked to you about my ‘secret girlfriend,’ I was laughing inside, wondering how you’d react when you found out it was Chloe. You stole my life, so you deserve to suffer.” His face twisted with sick satisfaction. “Don’t blame me, Ethan. I have to destroy you before she starts feeling pity for you again.” “You enjoyed my life for over twenty years. You don’t get a happy ending.” My consciousness began to fade. In my haze, I remembered the first time I pressed my ear against Chloe’s belly to listen for a heartbeat. She had told me our life would be perfect, that we had a bright future, and that she would always be on my side. Then, the scene shattered. Chloe’s cold face appeared, telling me how disappointed she was, asking how I could live so peacefully after stealing someone else’s life. I shook my head violently. *Chloe, how could you believe him?* But she didn’t move. She only drifted further and further away into a sea of red. When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in a cramped, pitch-black space. It was completely sealed. Through a tiny ventilation slit, my eyes locked onto the words on the wall outside: *CREMATION CHAMBER 4*. My heart stopped. I was still alive! I kicked the metal walls of the container frantically, screaming at the top of my lungs. I didn’t want to die! My mind was terrifyingly sharp. If no one heard me, I was going to be burned alive. Suddenly, the heavy metal lid was yanked open. Fresh air rushed into my lungs. I gasped, grabbing the jacket of the person standing over me. “Help me…” The two workers stared at me in absolute horror. “He’s alive! Oh my god, this guy is still alive!” They used my phone to call Chloe, and I was taken to the waiting room to recover. When Chloe arrived, Zach was hovering right behind her, his face dark. But the moment Zach saw me, he immediately put on a confused, innocent act. “Chloe… I really didn’t mean to. Our son’s dog died, and I wanted to cremate it… I didn’t know Ethan would hide in there because he was throwing a tantrum…” Chloe glanced at me, the panic in her eyes instantly replaced by cold irritation. “Ethan, if you’re done throwing your tantrum, come home with me.” Her very first words were an accusation. “Zach was just stressed. He’s been having a hard time lately. Don’t hold a grudge over a misunderstanding.” I had been locked in a coffin, nearly burned alive. And she dismissed all of it as me “throwing a tantrum.”

Before I could speak, Victoria rushed into the room. She bypassed me completely, throwing her arms around Zach. “Oh my god, Zach! Were you terrified?” I turned my head away. Twenty years of being her son, twenty years of calling her mother. Even without blood, I thought there was some affection. But she didn’t care about my burns or my trauma. She only cared about the monster who tried to kill me. Chloe was busy whispering comforts to Zach. The three of them looked like a perfect, happy family. “Ethan, since you’re fine, let’s drop this. Zach can’t handle any more stress.” I clutched my phone, my knuckles turning white. “Drop this? I almost died, and you want me to just drop it because I’m ‘fine’?” “Chloe, look at the security footage! See for yourself if he did it on purpose!” I thrust my phone in front of her, my finger tapping on the video. *Smack!* “Enough!” Chloe slapped the phone out of my hand. Her high heel came down hard, crushing the screen of my phone into pieces. Her eyes were icy. “I don’t need to watch it. No matter what the camera shows, Zach didn’t mean it.” “Ethan, you didn’t use to be this petty. When are you going to stop this?” I looked up at her, my heart completely turning to stone. Petty? If Zach was hurt, Chloe would tear the world apart to get revenge for him. But when it was me, she didn’t even want to see the proof. Zach took a deep breath and suddenly dropped to his knees in front of me. “Ethan, please, I beg you. Don’t make things hard for me. Aren’t we brothers?” “I just wanted a family. I just wanted someone to love me. I’ve been alone for so long.” Victoria’s eyes welled with tears as she comforted him, while Chloe pulled Zach back to his feet. It was laughable. Victoria and the woman I loved were both shielding him. What else did Zach want from me? “My life was so miserable before this. Watching you live in luxury made me hate you. I couldn’t help it. It was my fault,” Zach sobbed. “If my existence makes you this unhappy, I’ll leave. I’ll go back to the gutter and never bother you again.” The last bit of hesitation in Chloe’s eyes vanished. Her voice carried no warmth. “Take Ethan and make him experience everything Zach had to go through.” Zach looked up, our eyes meeting. *Is this what you wanted?* *Did you almost kill yourself just to put on this show?* My silence was deafening. Zach stiffened, quickly looking away. Our ten years of brotherhood died right then and there. On that very day, I decided to let go of the two women I had loved most. … For the next three days, I was subjected to Chloe’s version of “penance.” I was dragged to a shoe factory, forced to squat in front of mountains of foul-smelling leather, polishing shoe after shoe until I felt like vomiting, but I wasn’t allowed to stop. On the second day, her bodyguards took me to a convenience store in the slums. I was forced to stock shelves and work the register for over sixteen hours straight. My legs swelled so badly that every step felt like dragging lead blocks. The moment I sat down to rest for a minute, Chloe’s cold calls and Victoria’s screaming texts would flood my screen. By the third day, my legs were so swollen I couldn’t even stand. The injury in my lower abdomen had flared up, throbbing with a sickening heat. Only then did Chloe order them to stop. She had me thrown into the slums, into the dilapidated apartment where Zach used to live. I thought it would be a decent place. Instead, it was a damp, moldy, rat-infested basement. Zach really hated me. But when he was struggling, I was the one who skipped meals to save money from my strict allowance to help him pay rent. I was the one who used my first business profit to pay off his student loans and fund his first startup. The room was tiny, the walls peeling, the air thick with mildew. The betrayal cut deeper than any physical wound. Back then, during summer break, I was worried Zach wouldn’t have money, so I hired him as Chloe’s assistant, paying him three thousand dollars a day. I made up business trips just so Chloe and I could take him to travel all over Europe with us. And this was how he repaid me. I wiped the sweat and tears from my face. My SnapChat buzzed with a friend request. *”Hi Ethan. I’m Beatrice. I’m your biological mother.”* A lump formed in my throat. I typed a long message. *Why did you take so long? How did they mix us up? Why…* But before I could hit send, a deafening roar shook the building. I looked out the window. A massive demolition excavator was tearing down the building next door, and it was heading straight for my unit. The walls began to crack, and dust rained down. Without thinking, I quickly sent my location to Beatrice. *”Come get me.”* As the excavator’s metal claw reached the window, my phone rang. It was Chloe. I tried to scramble out of the window, accidentally hitting accept on her call. “Ethan, everything is settled. I talked to Victoria. You can stay in the family.” “Zach and his kid won’t threaten your position. Just be good, and I’ll come pick you up.” “Ethan? Hello?… ” I didn’t hesitate. I jumped out of the second-story window. My phone slipped from my grip, the screen still showing the active call as it smashed onto the concrete

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Right after the SATs, I went to our senior prom. At the party, I took a single drink and blacked out completely. When I woke up, I was lying naked in Ethan’s bed. And Chloe, our school’s resident mean girl, was holding a camera right in my face, snapping photos. “You have no idea how pathetic and desperate you looked last night!” she sneered. The other classmates gathered in the hotel room burst into a chorus of nasty laughter. Then Ethan, my childhood best friend whom I grew up with, tossed a giant T-shirt at me. “Are you stupid? Didn’t you know that drink was spiked with a roofie?” Tears streamed down my face. I didn’t even dare to ask what had actually happened last night. Ethan looked at me with pure disgust. “Forget it. Chloe was just playing a joke. Don’t look so victimized. With you looking like a fat pig, what guy would actually want to touch you?” At that exact moment, my ten-year-old crush on Ethan died a brutal death. Ethan’s shirt was huge, fitting me like a baggy dress. Chloe held the camera, lightly kicking a husky lying on the floor with her sneaker. “Look at how she was hugging this dog last night. Kissing it and rubbing all over it. It was hilarious. I’ve never seen anyone get horny over a dog before.” A few people laughed along, but their voices quickly quieted down. Some classmates stole glances at me, looking a bit uneasy but saying nothing. Ethan poured a glass of warm water and walked over. I reached out to take it, but he bypassed my hand and handed it directly to Chloe. “Rinse your mouth. You’ve laughed your throat hoarse.” Chloe took the glass and winked at me maliciously. “My bad, April. Maybe the joke went a little too far.” “But seriously, I didn’t think you’d actually drink it. The cup literally had a sticky note that said ‘Don’t drink.’” I kept my mouth shut. There was indeed a cup on the table, and the sticky note on it was now soggy and illegible. But last night, that cup had been handed to me by Ethan. He had grabbed it from the table and shoved it into my hands. “Drink up, your face is super red.” Only after I took two big gulps did he lazily add, “Oh, actually, I think I grabbed the wrong one.” Chloe had led the applause then, and everyone cheered. I hadn’t realized what was happening in my hazy state. And after that, my memory went completely blank. The next morning, my photos spread like wildfire across our school’s Snapchat groups. Me, hugging a husky, clothes disheveled, face twisted in tears. The caption read: “One night for $100. Best deal in town.” There were over three hundred people in that group chat. Ethan was one of them. He didn’t leave the group. He didn’t say a single word to stop them. He only sent me one private message. “Don’t take it too seriously.” I stared at those five words all night. I never replied. On the day we had to go back to school to sign our final college enrollment forms, I wore an oversized black T-shirt. I tried my best to blend into the shadows. But the moment I walked into the classroom, someone let out a loud whistle. “Hey look, the dog-girl is here.” Whispers and giggles erupted, elbows digging into ribs. I walked to my desk. Carved deeply into the wooden surface were four words: “FAT PIG FOR SLAUGHTER.” I didn’t know when they had carved it, but the gashes were deep. I covered it up with a piece of scrap paper. Chloe sat diagonally in front of me. She turned around with a sweet smile. “April, which college are you committing to?” “Ethan and I are both going to Harvard. Why don’t you come with us?” She wrapped her arm around Ethan’s, leaning her head on his shoulder. “Once we’re in college, we can still look out for you.” Ethan kept his head down, flipping through his college paperwork, not looking at me once. A guy sitting nearby scoffed. “Why would she go to Harvard? Does the dining hall need someone to clear out the trash cans?” The classroom burst into laughter. Ethan finally looked up and said quietly, “That’s enough.” His voice wasn’t loud, but the laughter died down instantly. Chloe pouted. “It was just a joke, Ethan. You’re always so protective of her.” Ethan didn’t reply. Instead, he turned around to look at me. “What happened to your leg?” I froze. His eyes fell on my knees. I had tripped on the stairs yesterday, scraping off a patch of skin and leaving a massive, ugly purple bruise. My cropped pants couldn’t hide it. “It’s nothing,” I said flatly. “Did you put ointment on it?” “Yes.” He dug a fresh tube of ointment out of his backpack and tossed it onto my desk. “This is new. Put it on twice a day.” Seeing this, Chloe snatched at it. “I want some too! I scraped my knee yesterday too.” Ethan pinned her hand down. “Like hell you did. Who was the one whining for me to carry them up the stairs last night?” Chloe giggled, her voice dripping with honey. “Then you should carry April too. Her leg is actually hurt.” Ethan stayed silent. Chloe chuckled nastily. “Oh, right. You can’t carry her. She’s too heavy. Haha.” Her laughter was shrill, sounding like nails on a chalkboard. I ripped open the packaging of the ointment, squeezed a bit out, and slowly dabbed it onto my knee. It felt cold, then it began to sting. Ethan turned to me again. “Seriously, which school are you choosing?” “I haven’t decided yet.” “Stop overthinking. Harvard. Have you signed the acceptance form?” “Yes.” “Which choice is it?” “My top choice.” He nodded, looking visibly relieved. “Good.” “Your GPA is just enough to get in. Don’t waste your potential on some local community college.” Chloe chipped in, “Going to community college is fine too. At least she’d be close to home to cook for her mom.” I remained silent. Ethan shot Chloe a warning look, and Chloe stuck her tongue out. “What? Did I say something wrong? Her mom literally runs a cheap little diner.” “Though, honestly, her pork stew is actually pretty good.”

The bell rang. Mrs. Gable walked in to distribute the official, triplicated enrollment confirmation forms. Once we signed the bottom of these printed sheets, our college decisions were legally locked in and unchangeable. The classroom went dead quiet, filled only with the scratching of pens. My fingers gripped my pen so tightly they turned white. Ethan leaned over and whispered, “Let me check yours before you sign. Don’t make a mistake.” I didn’t acknowledge him. He began writing his own name in his signature, messy cursive. Chloe copied his choices, writing slowly, a step behind him. Just then, Chloe’s phone buzzed loudly. She picked it up, her loud voice echoing through the quiet room. “Hey, Mom! Yeah, I’m signing my college forms right now.” “What? Oh, you mean April’s photos?” “That wasn’t me! I don’t know who leaked them to the group chat.” She chuckled into the receiver. “Oh my god, seriously, it has nothing to do with me. I just filmed the video; I didn’t post it.” “I only showed it to Ethan. He was the one laughing his head off at it.” Several classmates turned their heads to look at me, then quickly looked back down. Some were shaking their shoulders, trying desperately to hold in their giggles. Ethan’s hand froze mid-stroke. He shot Chloe a frustrated look, then turned to soothe me. “I need to go to the office for a second. Just ignore her. She’s just acting like a dumb girl. The drama will blow over in a couple of days.” I stopped writing. I stared at the back of Chloe’s head. She was still on the phone, her voice getting louder and more arrogant. “Seriously, Mom, you should have heard her. She was moaning so loud while hugging that husky.” “No guy would ever touch her. No one would take her even if she paid them $100.” “Alright, alright, I’ll stop. I’ll show you the video when I get home tonight. It’s comedy gold.” I stood up. My chair legs scraped against the floor, making a sharp, screeching sound. The classroom fell dead silent. Chloe turned around, her phone still pressed to her ear. “What?” I walked over to her. I stopped right in front of her desk. Then, I raised my hand and slapped her across the face. The loud, crisp crack echoed off the walls. Chloe was completely stunned. Her phone flew out of her hand, the screen shattering as it hit the floor. She clutched her cheek, her eyes wide with shock, her mouth open but unable to make a sound. Everyone was staring. The air in the room froze solid. My voice sounded incredibly calm, even to my own ears. “That first slap is for your parents, since they clearly failed to raise you.” “A mouth is meant for speaking human words, not spewing trash.” Chloe finally snapped out of her shock. She bolted up, knocking her chair backward. She was half a head taller than me, and she shoved me hard. “You slapped me? You bitch, you dare slap me?!” The shove sent me stumbling back, my back slamming painfully into the edge of a desk. A sharp ache flared up, but I took a step forward anyway. I raised my hand again and delivered a second slap. This time she tried to dodge, but my palm caught her hard across the ear, sending her stumbling sideways. Pens and papers on her desk went flying everywhere. “This second slap is for myself.” “You filmed me, posted my photos, and humiliated me for three straight days.” “Did you think it was funny?” I glared at her, my eyes burning, but I refused to let a single tear fall. “Is it still funny now?” Chloe clutched both sides of her face, her eyes welling with tears as she screamed at the top of her lungs: “Ethan!”

The classroom door was pushed open. Ethan walked back in, holding some papers he had just printed from the main office. The moment he saw the chaos, his face darkened completely. “What the hell is going on?” Chloe lunged at him, grabbing his arm desperately. “She hit me! She’s completely insane, Ethan! She hit me!” Ethan looked at the red handprints blooming on her cheeks, then turned his gaze to me. “You slapped her?” I looked him straight in the eyes. “She deserved it.” His expression shifted from disbelief to cold anger. “I told you, Chloe was just joking.” “Why are you making such a big deal out of this? Nothing actually happened to you that night anyway.” Ethan had beautiful eyes and a perfectly straight nose. When he spoke, his Adam’s apple bobbed. I used to think every single part of him was designed perfectly to fit my heart. Now, all I felt was a dull, heavy ache. “A joke? She called me a fat pig for three days, and I ignored it.” “She set me up, and I let it slide.” “She filmed me and put it online, and did you say a single word?” Ethan frowned. “Chloe filmed the video, yes, but she wasn’t the one who posted it to the group chat.” “It was her mom who accidentally forwarded it.” I let out a cold, cynical laugh. “She literally just said on the phone that she only showed it to you.” Ethan’s face went rigid. Chloe gripped his arm even tighter. “Ethan, I didn’t say that! She’s lying…” Ethan glanced at her, then back at me. His lips parted, but all he said was, “Even if she did, you shouldn’t have resorted to violence.” I nodded slowly. “Right. I shouldn’t have hit her.” “I should have kept quiet, kept being your little punching bag and your favorite joke.” “For three years in high school, you guys gave me cruel nicknames, hid my homework, and stuffed trash into my locker.” “On my birthday, she gifted me weight-loss pills while you stood there laughing.” “When I gave my speech on stage, she led the crowd in booing me off, and you stood by doing absolutely nothing.” “Ethan, I used to think you were just bad at expressing yourself.” “I actually believed that deep down, you cared about me.” My voice began to tremble. “When you handed me that drink last night… did you know what was in it?” Ethan didn’t say a word. His silence was my answer. I inhaled deeply and nodded. “I see.” I turned around and walked back to my desk. I picked up the enrollment confirmation form. “Are you finished signing?” Ethan’s voice called out from behind me. I ignored him. He spoke again, his tone carrying that usual, arrogant sense of authority. “Don’t throw a tantrum. Your college choice affects your entire life. If you aren’t with me at Harvard, I worry you won’t…” He sounded so casual, as if the conflict we just had was nothing but a minor lover’s spat. I folded the paper and slipped it into my pocket. Just then, my phone rang. It was my mom. I picked it up and walked to the very end of the hallway to answer. “Hey, Mom.” “April, sweetie, have you signed the form? You’re going to Harvard, right?” My mom’s voice sounded exhausted from her long shift at the diner, but it was incredibly warm. “Don’t worry about the money. I’ll take on extra shifts. We can afford the tuition.” “Ethan is going to Harvard too, right? Since you two grew up together, you can look out for each other.” I leaned against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. Tears fell, hot and heavy, onto the floor. I couldn’t bring myself to answer because I didn’t want her to hear me crying. I quickly hung up. I walked back into the classroom. Ethan was standing right by my desk, holding his signed enrollment sheet. “Here,” he said, handing it to me. I took it and glanced at it. First choice: Harvard University. Major: Computer Science. The second choice line was left blank. He had only filled out one option. “Fill yours out the exact same way. Don’t overthink it. Your GPA is a guaranteed lock for Harvard.” I stared at his handwriting. The ink was barely dry. Chloe was back in her seat, pressing a wet paper towel to her cheek. She glared at me, muttering under her breath, “Psycho. Like a rabid dog.” Ethan turned to her. “Shut up, Chloe.” Chloe went quiet, but rolled her eyes dramatically. Mrs. Gable walked back into the room. “Alright class, listen up. Once you sign this form, it’s final. It cannot be changed.” “We have twenty minutes before the portal closes. Get them to my desk.” She stood at the podium and began collecting the sheets. I walked straight up to the front, grabbed a pen from the teacher’s desk, and laid my paper down flat. The system would lock in five minutes. I raised the pen and drew a heavy, brutal line right through “Harvard University.” I scribbled over it so hard that the paper made a sharp scratching sound. “What are you doing?!” Ethan lunged forward, grabbing my wrist in a tight grip. “Are you insane?!” I ripped my hand away from his grasp. Mrs. Gable stood up immediately. “Ethan, do not interfere with other students’ enrollment forms.” Ethan ignored her, his eyes locked onto mine. “April, where are you committing?!” I didn’t say a word. I kept writing. He reached out to snatch the paper away from me. I dodged, my wrist slamming hard against the sharp corner of the podium. A jolt of pain shot up my arm. “Where the hell are you going?!” he roared. The entire classroom stared at us in shock. Chloe stood up, her face filled with confusion. I finished writing. I slapped the paper down onto Mrs. Gable’s desk. I signed my name. And pressed my thumbprint on the seal. Mrs. Gable looked at the paper, then looked up at me in shock. “Are you sure about this, April?” “Yes.” “Alright. It’s submitted.” The computer let out a soft beep. The enrollment portal was officially closed.

Ethan stood by the podium, his face a mask of absolute disbelief. I walked down the steps, trying to pass him. He grabbed my arm roughly. “April! You…” I looked down at his hand, then up at his face. “Let go of me.” He didn’t budge. I forced his fingers off my arm, one by one. “Is all of this really necessary? Just over a stupid joke?!” he snapped. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and walked toward the exit. Chloe’s mocking voice rang out from behind. “Oh, look at her playing hard to get. Does she seriously think this is going to make you chase her, Ethan?” “Just let her go. She’ll come crawling back in a couple of days anyway…” Before I could even cross the threshold of the door, Ethan took two giant strides, caught up to me, and yanked my wrist back. The force of his pull spun me halfway around. “Where did you commit?!” “April! Answer me!” His eyes were bloodshot, his face contorted in a rage I had never seen before. Chloe swaggered over, standing right behind him with her arms crossed. “Forget it, Ethan. Where else could she possibly go? Probably that cheap state school down south. She’s just putting on a show to scare you.” She laughed nastily. “Look at her legs. She walks like a penguin.” I struggled to free my wrist, but I couldn’t. Ethan’s hand was like an iron shackle. I stopped fighting and stared directly into his eyes. “Ethan, what makes you think I would ever want to go to the same university as you?” He froze. “Because I tutored you?” “Because I vouched for you to the teachers?” “Or because I used to love you?” His entire face went rigid. As I spoke those last words, I felt something that had been built over ten long years finally shatter into pieces. Someone called Ethan’s name from the end of the hallway—it sounded like one of his friends from the other class. Chloe pushed past me, grabbing Ethan’s hand. “Ethan, leave her. Let’s go.” Ethan stood frozen, letting her pull him back a step, his eyes still glued to me. Seeing his hesitation, Chloe decided to twist the knife. “Oh, by the way, her mom just posted a screenshot in the community group chat, asking what those photos were about.” “Want to see? Her mom seems pretty furious.” She held up her phone, showing a Snapchat chat window with my mother’s username. My mom had forwarded the photo Chloe leaked, followed by three question marks. Below it was our home address pinned on the map. My blood ran cold instantly. “You promised you wouldn’t send it to my mom,” I whispered, my voice trembling. Chloe shrugged. “I didn’t send it to her. She saw it in the public group chat herself.” “My mom was the one who posted it there, and I couldn’t stop her.” “Not my fault.” I looked at her face. The left side of her cheek was swollen, but her lips were curled into a smug, victorious grin. She was thoroughly enjoying my terror. It was all just a show to her. Ethan stood right next to her, completely silent. My mouth opened, but no words came out. I turned and walked away. One step at a time, I headed down the concrete stairs. This was the hallway I had walked for three years, yet it had never felt this long. Behind me, Ethan’s voice boomed. “April!” I didn’t stop. Heavy, panicked footsteps chased after me. “Stop right there!” A hand grabbed my shoulder from behind, yanking me backward. I lost my balance. My foot slipped off the edge of the step. The sharp edge of the concrete step slammed hard into my shin bone. An agonizing pain shot up my leg. I let out a choked gasp as my body fell backward. Ethan’s grip on my shoulder vanished. I didn’t know if he had let go out of shock, or if I had simply slipped out of his grasp. All I knew was that I was falling. My head slammed violently against the concrete step with a sickening thud. Then my shoulders, my back, and my hips battered against the stairs, step by step. My body rolled down like a heavy sack of sand, completely out of control. Finally, I came to a stop on the landing of the first floor. The world went dead silent for a few seconds. Then, the screaming started. Someone upstairs screamed at the top of their lungs, “Oh my god! She fell down the stairs!”

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The night Ethan won the NCAA Championship, he celebrated by kissing the head cheerleader in front of the entire arena. Everyone waited for me to lose my mind. Instead, I was wearing his teammate Logan’s jersey, lying in his bed. Later, I became Logan’s girlfriend. Ethan didn’t realize he’d lost me until it was too late. When he finally saw us together, he crushed a whiskey glass in his bare hand, his eyes red with regret. “Chloe… you were supposed to be mine.” The final buzzer sounded, and the entire ice arena erupted into chaos. Ethan was about to confess his love to that gorgeous cheerleader. He had warned his teammates beforehand, making sure everyone kept me in the dark. What he didn’t know was that some drama-loving bystander had already DM’d me the whole plan on Snapchat. After all, everyone on the varsity hockey team knew I was head over heels for Ethan. My biggest dream was to be his girlfriend. So, the moment Ethan fell in love at first sight and confessed to another girl… I was supposed to rush down to the ice, crying, screaming, and making a total fool of myself. The crowd in the stands was practically drooling, waiting for me to lose my mind and crash the party. Too bad for them. Even after their high-profile kiss ended, I still hadn’t shown up. The crowd outside the rink started to lose interest when no drama happened. Even Ethan’s face didn’t look all that happy. He wrapped his arm around his new girlfriend and pulled out his phone. Not a single call. Not a single text. Ethan frowned slightly. He slid his phone away and held the trophy high above his head. “Tonight, we celebrate! Afterparty at the bar, on me!” The players and students in the arena instantly cheered. I pushed open the glass door of the players’ tunnel and walked out. Someone with sharp eyes spotted me and immediately yelled. “Look, it’s Chloe! Chloe’s here!” “I knew it! There’s no way Chloe could resist coming!” Ethan snapped his head up. The moment he saw me, the corners of his lips twitched into a smug, barely noticeable smirk. I ignored the crowd waiting for a show. With Logan’s jacket barely covering my thighs, I walked straight up to Ethan. “Chloe.” Ethan, still in his full hockey gear, held the trophy in one hand and pulled his new girlfriend tighter with the other. He looked down at me, his voice flat. “You can’t force feelings.” “We’ve known each other for over ten years, and I don’t want to say anything too harsh to ruin our history. We can still be friends.” “If you ever need help, you can still come to me.” Then, he lowered his voice, leaning in: “Everyone is watching. Don’t make a scene. Go home.” “Go home and change. What the hell are you even wearing?” “Ethan.” I cut him off, taking a slow step forward. He frowned again. “Chloe, be reasonable.” I smiled, pulled out my phone, pulled up a billing page, and turned the screen toward him. “This is the money I advanced for your custom hockey sticks and protective gear.” I stared straight into his eyes. “Pay me back. Now.” Ethan’s face instantly darkened as he stared at the screen. “Chloe, what kind of game are you playing now?” “You really will do anything to get my attention, won’t you? Digging up old receipts?” Ethan stared at me, convinced I was just throwing a tantrum. “I don’t care about this pocket change. If you’re that desperate for money, I’ll Venmo you double.” He pulled out his phone. “No need for double. Just the original amount is fine.” “I’m blocking you after this.” “From now on, your new girlfriend can handle all your annoying chores.” With that, I didn’t give him another glance. I turned around and walked away.

Ethan stood frozen on the ice until my figure vanished from sight. His face was still incredibly tense. His teammates quickly stepped in to smooth things over. “Man, Chloe is just trying to save face. Don’t take it seriously.” “Trust me, Ethan, she’ll regret this before the night is over.” “She’ll probably come crawling back to you crying tonight.” Ethan let out a cold laugh. “Let her play her games.” “If we hadn’t grown up together, I wouldn’t have tolerated her for this long.” “Alright, alright, don’t let her ruin the mood. We won the championship tonight, let’s party!” Ethan looked at the hot cheerleader next to him. He quickly threw my annoying face to the back of his mind. He knew that by tomorrow’s training session, I would show up like nothing had happened. I would be sitting in the very front row. Holding water and a towel, waiting like a puppy for him to finish practice. He had seen this exact script play out way too many times over the years. By the time I walked out of the arena, the rain was pouring. I stood under my umbrella, thinking about the terrifying nightmares I had been having lately. In those dreams, because Ethan confessed to Brianna… I threw a massive fit. To force him to break up with her, I ran out onto the highway in the middle of the night. And what happened? I was hit by a speeding SUV. I broke two ribs and almost died. Ethan only stayed at the hospital for five minutes before leaving me. They forced me to drop out of college and sent me back to my alcoholic parents. In the end, I died miserably in a trashy, run-down apartment. And after I died, the one who came to collect my broken body was actually the man I had always avoided and feared. Ethan never showed up. Not once. Over the past few days, everything from those nightmares had started coming true. If it weren’t for those warnings, I would have thrown my umbrella away by now, spam-calling Ethan’s phone, ready to throw another suicidal tantrum on the road. I was so grateful for those dreams. It felt like a second chance at life. I could finally rewrite my miserable fate, step by step. On my third try, the call finally went through. I gripped my phone tightly, pressing it to my ear. The name *Logan Vance* lingered on the tip of my tongue before I slowly spoke it aloud. The heavy rain drowned out the noise of the world. Through the receiver, Logan’s deep, slightly tired voice came through. “Chloe?” “Logan, it’s raining so hard.” “I’m stuck outside the arena. Can you come pick me up?”

The other end went dead silent for a few seconds. I gripped the umbrella handle so hard my palm began to sweat. In my dream, when Logan collected my body, he cried. A man who was absolutely ruthless on the ice rink had cried like a baby for the first time. Later, he changed his jersey number to my birthday, stepped over Ethan, and climbed to the absolute peak of the professional league. My eyes welled up with tears, and a small sob escaped my throat. “Why are you crying?” Logan’s voice suddenly cut through. It was still cold, even slightly impatient. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t come.” “When will you be here?” “Wait there. Twenty minutes.” “Okay. I’ll wait for you, Logan.” He didn’t say another word and hung up. By the time Logan arrived, I was completely soaked. He got out of the car, his thin lips pressed into a tight line, his expression icy. I brushed away my wet bangs and looked up at him with a bright smile. “Logan, you’re so on time.” “Chloe, are you trying to get yourself killed by being this stupid?” With a tense face, he grabbed my arm, shoved me into the passenger seat, and tossed a soft blanket over me. “Dry yourself off. Don’t ruin my car.” He glanced at me through the rearview mirror and smoothly put the car in drive. “Oh.” I wrapped myself tightly in the blanket like a good girl. I couldn’t help but steal glances at him while he focused on the road. When he had no expression, he always looked incredibly distant and intimidating. Plenty of girls at school liked him, but none of them dared to confess. He and Ethan were not just roommates; they were rivals on the ice. Back then, I used to go to the locker room every single day to bring Ethan milk. Every time I went, Logan looked like he absolutely loathed me, slamming his locker door shut with an icy glare. Even now, though he came to rescue me, he was still acting so cold. When he shoved me into the car earlier, his grip was so tight. My wrist was still throbbing, leaving a faint red mark. It was impossible to tell that this guy had been secretly in love with me for years. Everything in the dream had happened exactly as predicted. But now, because of my changes, the timeline was shifting. Would Logan still love me? If he didn’t actually like me, wouldn’t my sudden behavior just be a massive annoyance to him? “Back to the dorms?” Logan suddenly turned his head to glance at me. My heart skipped a beat, and before I could stop myself, the words slipped out. “No. To your place.” Logan gripped the steering wheel, letting out a mocking chuckle. “Ethan’s having a huge championship party tonight.” “Are you trying to use me to make him jealous?” I gripped the edge of the blanket, twisting it tighter and tighter. “I’m not.” The car suddenly screeched to a halt by the curb. Logan turned his body toward me, the coldness in his eyes making my chest tighten. “Chloe, don’t bring me into whatever sick game you’re playing with him.” “I’m not…” He stared at me for a long second, then pulled out his phone. “I’ll call you an Uber. Go back yourself.” “Logan…” I bit my lip hard, reaching over to snatch his phone away. He stared at me, but his eyes didn’t hold anger or disgust. Instead, they were incredibly dark, swirling with emotions he was trying to hide. Suddenly, a wave of sadness washed over me. “Logan, I don’t want to go back to the dorms. Everyone is laughing at me.” “And I’m scared to go home.” “Can you… can you just let me stay at your off-campus apartment for tonight?” I hid his phone behind my back, my voice growing softer and softer. “I won’t bother you. I’m just… my clothes are completely soaked.” The moment I finished speaking, tears rolled down my cheeks. One by one, silent and heavy. Logan didn’t say another word to me. But he started the car again. He drove toward his apartment.

I followed Logan into his apartment. He walked over to his closet, pulled out a clean training jersey, and tossed it to me. “Bathroom’s over there.” He was tall, so his jersey was massive on me. It barely covered my thighs. After my shower, I threw the jersey on and walked out. Logan took one look at me and immediately averted his eyes. I walked over to his bed and sat down. My damp, long hair dripped, quickly wetting his sheets. I smelled completely like Logan now—his shampoo, his body wash. In this small, enclosed space, a thick, unspoken tension began to brew. Logan grabbed his pack of cigarettes and cleared his throat. “I’m going out for a smoke.” He walked out onto the balcony. I looked around his room with curiosity. Light gray sheets, neat and clean. A black gear bag sat half-open in the corner. Just as I was about to look at the trinkets on his desk, my phone suddenly rang. Ethan’s name flashed on the screen. I didn’t pick up. He immediately called again. I had blocked him on Snapchat, but I had forgotten to block his actual number. I quickly blocked his number too and threw my phone back into my bag. “Logan.” I called out toward the balcony. He quickly turned around, stubbed out his cigarette, and walked back in. “What?” I sat on the bed, having to tilt my head up to look at him. Logan locked eyes with me for two seconds before looking away again. But I noticed the tips of his ears were turning a faint shade of red. “I got your bed wet. What should I do?” He glanced at me, then down at the oversized jersey clinging to my damp body. His Adam’s apple bobbed heavily. He turned around and grabbed a towel, tossing it to me. “Dry it. It’ll be fine.” With that, he turned to grab the hairdryer from the living room. I held the towel, thinking about how his ears had just flushed, and couldn’t help but smile. “Can you dry it for me? My hands are tired.” He stared at me for a few seconds, eventually giving in. With one hand holding the hairdryer, he gently pulled at my collar to reach my back. The jersey’s collar was already too wide. As he pulled, the fabric slid down, exposing a large portion of my bare shoulder. I clearly felt Logan freeze. “Where are you going?” He pulled back his chair, not even turning around. “To the gym room to work out.” “Oh.” I sat on his bed, feeling a bit let down. Logan grabbed his headphones, but before he could put them on, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen, shot me a look, and pressed answer. “Ethan. What’s up?” My chest tightened, and I subconsciously held my breath. “Yeah, I’m at my apartment.” “You said someone saw Chloe coming here?” Logan turned around to look at me again. “I—” Before he could finish, I jumped off the bed. I strode over, climbed onto his lap, and wrapped my arms tightly around his neck. As Logan tried to push me away, I pressed my lips against his ear. “Logan, tell him I’m not here.” My body was pressed flush against his chest. In an instant, Logan’s body heat flared, burning hot. I could see the veins on his neck bulging slightly. His Adam’s apple rolled violently, and his heart was hammering against his ribs. I looked up at him, and he stared down at me. Deep in his eyes, a dark, heavy desire began to pool. “No, they saw wrong.” “She’s not my girlfriend. We aren’t close.” Logan spoke into the phone and hung up immediately. He tossed the phone aside, his long fingers gripping my waist tightly through the thin jersey. He pulled me flush against him. I could feel the hard, heat of his body. My mind went completely blank, and my first instinct was to pull away. But Logan only held me tighter. “Chloe.” His voice was incredibly husky. His hot breath fanned over my ear and neck. I shrank back, trying to dodge, but his lips slammed down onto mine. “Don’t tease me… unless you want to regret it.”

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1 I was the pampered only daughter of the Wright family, guarded by three overprotective brothers until a mysterious notepad app appeared on my phone. It predicted their ruin. Dominic would lose eighty billion dollars on a bad deal. Gideon would be stripped of his shares. Jude would abandon his inheritance. My lifetime security was vanishing. I launched my Save the Wallet plan. I swiped Dominic’s black card and spent thirty million dollars in a single day. He spent all night processing returns and handling complaints. I took Gideon’s private jet to Paris and gutted the custom leather interior under the pretext of a remodel. He was forced into an eight-hour transoceanic video call just to supervise me. I converted Jude’s climate-controlled wine cellar into a karaoke lounge and used eight million dollars worth of vintage Cabernet Sauvignon as bathwater. My brothers were so exhausted they had no time to check their phones. That ended when Seraphina, the new executive secretary, was appointed to Dominic’s office. She cast a cold glance at me, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. Little girl, the executive suite is not a playground. You can run along now. A dead silence fell over the hallway. Everyone knew the fiercely protective CEO of Wright Group was about to walk through those doors. I was only halfway through my gourmet lobster roll, the rich filling still in my mouth. There were five assistants in the lounge, and even the newest among them had been with my brother for six years. Right now, their expressions were identical, a perfect mix of wanting to speak up but fearing they would say the wrong thing, wanting to pull her back but not knowing how. Martha was the first to break the silence, letting out a dry laugh. “Ms. Seraphina, this is Mr. Wright’s…” “I know, his sister,” Seraphina interrupted, not even sparing Martha a glance. When she said the word “sister,” her voice tilted upward with a subtle, dismissive edge. “But even a sister shouldn’t be eating and playing in the executive suite. The scent of lobster is far too strong. What if a client arrives later?” She glanced at the gourmet box in front of me, her brow knitting together. “Besides, today is my first day, and the executive suite needs structure. When Mr. Wright is away, I coordinate the daily operations.” She smiled, tilting her head to look at me as if coaxing a difficult child. “Be a good girl, pack up your things, and I’ll have the receptionist call a car to take you home, alright?” Martha panicked, her voice rising. “Ms. Seraphina, you really don’t understand the situation. This lounge was specifically built by Mr. Wright for—” “It doesn’t matter who it was built for.” Seraphina turned, her tone still soft and gentle, but every word carried a hard, unyielding weight. “Martha, you’ve worked with Mr. Wright for so many years. You should know better than anyone that the executive suite represents the face of the entire conglomerate. A young girl sitting here eating messy lobster rolls, what would the outside world think of Wright Group if word got out?” Philip, the director of operations, set down his coffee cup, finally unable to keep quiet. “Ms. Seraphina, I suggest you wait until Mr. Wright returns before making any—” “Mr. Philip,” Seraphina turned her face, her smile unchanging. “Mr. Wright authorized me to manage the daily administration of this suite. This falls directly under my purview. Or are you suggesting his authorization is flawed?” Philip opened his mouth, then closed it. I grabbed a napkin and wiped my fingers, my movements slow and deliberate. “What did you say just now? Tell me to get lost?” Seraphina’s smile stiffened slightly. “I didn’t use that word,” she said. “I said ‘go play outside’.” “Oh,” I nodded. “So you’re saying you get to decide where I stand?” “Ms. Mariette, everyone in the company knows Mr. Wright spoils you, but work is work—” “By the way,” I interrupted her. “The keypad on the door, the passcode is my birthday, August 16. You can ask anyone in this room. On paper, this lounge belongs to me.” Martha nodded frantically beside me, like a chicken pecking at seeds. Seraphina remained quiet for two seconds. She took a deep breath, smoothing her expression. This time, she didn’t bother to smile. “Ms. Mariette, everything I’ve said today is for the sake of the Wright Group. It is nothing personal.” She turned to Martha, her tone shifting into that of an administrative manager delivering a cold directive. “Martha, inform the reception desk. From today onward, any non-staff entering the executive suite must register and seek pre-approval. Everyone, without exception.” Martha’s face turned pale. “Ms. Seraphina, a rule like this… I’m afraid it requires Mr. Wright’s personal—” “Mr. Wright authorized me,” Seraphina cut her off coldly. “I don’t need to consult him on every minor administrative detail.” Then she turned back to me, her eyes devoid of any gentle pretense. “Ms. Mariette, your behavior today has disrupted our professional working order. As the administrator of the executive suite, I have the authority to handle this.” She walked to the door, opened it, and nodded to the two security guards standing in the hallway. “Please lock this lounge temporarily.” She looked back at me, her voice quiet but clear. “Ms. Mariette can stay here for a bit to clear her head. I’ll let you out once I’ve debriefed Mr. Wright on today’s events. Consider it a lesson.” Martha stood up abruptly. “Seraphina! You!” Seraphina raised her hand, silencing her with a chillingly sweet smile. “Martha, don’t be dramatic. I am doing this for her own good. A spoiled girl needs someone to teach her boundaries, don’t you agree?” The security guards closed the door. The light in the lounge didn’t change, but the atmosphere felt as though it had been plunged underwater. Seraphina stood at the door, clapping her hands lightly as if she had just disposed of some minor nuisance. “Alright,” she turned back to Martha, her voice returning to its soft cadence. “Martha, please organize the meeting minutes from this afternoon and send them to me. Mr. Wright will want to review them later.” Martha didn’t move. “Ms. Seraphina,” she said, her voice dropping low. “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?” “I do,” Seraphina replied. “I am maintaining order in this office. Martha, I wasn’t asking for your opinion.” Martha bit her lip, her eyes rimmed with red. She had been with Dominic for eleven years, starting back when Wright was just a mid-sized firm. She had never dealt with such arrogance. Before Martha could speak again, Seraphina turned away, pulling out her phone and dialing a number. The call was answered almost immediately. A deep, commanding voice came through the speaker. “Seraphina, what is it?” Seraphina’s tone instantly softened. “Uncle Arthur, I just arrived at the executive suite, and I’ve run into a bit of a situation. I wanted to report it to you.” The name “Uncle Arthur” made the room fall completely silent again. Philip’s eyes shifted, and even Martha looked visibly tense. The “Uncle Arthur” she was speaking to was none other than Arthur Ward, a founding board member of the Wright Group, a close associate of my late father, and the current head of the supervisory board. Seraphina explained the situation, her voice laced with delicate distress, framing herself as the responsible manager and me as the spoiled, disruptive sister. “…I had no choice. Mr. Wright is away, and the suite was in complete disarray. I had to enforce the rules. Uncle Arthur, did I do the right thing?” There was a brief pause on the other line. “You did the right thing, Seraphina. The executive suite must have rules.” Arthur Ward’s voice was clear enough for everyone to hear. “I’ll call Dominic later and tell him to keep his sister in line. A young girl running wild in the office is completely inappropriate.” Seraphina looked at the room, her lips curling into a triumphant smile. “Thank you, Uncle Arthur. I knew you would understand.” She slipped her phone back into her pocket, standing tall. Her entire posture had changed; she no longer needed the gentle facade. She looked at me. “Ms. Mariette, you’re smart, so I won’t beat around the bush. I didn’t come to Wright to make an enemy of you. But rules are rules. If you cooperate with me today, I’ll speak highly of you to your brother, and I’ll turn a blind eye when you visit in the future. Isn’t that a fair deal?” I looked down at the cold lobster roll on my plate. I raised my head, about to speak, when the sound of heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway. “Who authorized locking this door?” It was Miles, my brother’s chief secretary and personal shadow. Miles stood at the entrance, holding a spare key in his hand. He was in his early forties, having been with Dominic for thirteen years. Everyone in the company knew that when Dominic was away, Miles spoke with his authority. His gaze swept from the locked door to the people in the room, finally resting on Seraphina. “I’ll ask one more time,” he said, his voice flat and calm. “Who authorized locking this door?” Seraphina didn’t answer immediately. She studied Miles for a moment, her eyes lingering on his badge: Chief Secretary, Miles. “I did,” she said, her chin lifting slightly. “There was an administrative issue, and I acted within the authorization Mr. Wright gave me.” Miles said nothing. He walked past her, coming straight to my side. He glanced at the cold lobster roll, then looked at me. “Mariette, are you alright?” I shook my head. Miles nodded, then turned to Martha. “Have the kitchen prepare a fresh plate, and bring some mango boba tea. Mr. Wright mentioned she was coming today and left specific instructions.” Martha looked incredibly relieved. “Of course, right away.” “Wait a moment,” Seraphina’s voice cut in. Martha stopped in her tracks. “Mr. Miles,” Seraphina stepped forward, placing herself between Miles and Martha. “As I stated, non-staff are not permitted to dine in the executive suite. This rule is effective immediately. By ordering food now, are you trying to undermine my authority?” Miles looked at her. “Ms. Seraphina, I processed your onboarding paperwork myself. I know the exact boundaries of your authority better than you do. Mr. Wright authorized you to coordinate daily administrative tasks.” He paused. “That does not include personnel, security clearance, or… locking doors.” Seraphina’s expression stiffened, but she quickly recovered, letting out a soft laugh. “Mr. Miles, those are just technicalities on paper. Do you really believe Mr. Wright brought me here just to do basic paperwork? You’ve been with him for thirteen years; you should know better than anyone that he doesn’t hire people just to fit a standard job description.” She tilted her head, her tone carrying an intimate, knowing edge. “My relationship with Mr. Wright cannot be defined by a simple contract. You are a smart man, Mr. Miles. I shouldn’t have to spell it out for you.” At those words, Philip almost spilled his coffee, and Martha stood frozen, her mouth slightly open. Miles simply pushed his glasses up, his expression entirely unchanged. “Ms. Seraphina, regardless of your personal relationship with Mr. Wright, within the Wright Group office, we operate strictly by the rules. That is a boundary Mr. Wright established himself.” He turned back to Martha. “Go on, get the food.” Martha didn’t hesitate this time, quickly disappearing down the hallway. Seraphina watched her leave, the smile fading from her face. She turned to face Miles directly. “Mr. Miles, I respect your seniority, which is why I’ve been polite. But undermining me in front of the entire office makes things very difficult.” Miles remained silent. “I locked the room because Ms. Mariette’s behavior was disrupting the office. Even the head of the supervisory board, Mr. Ward, supported my decision. Are you suggesting a secretary has more authority than a board member?” Miles kept his tablet tucked under his arm, his voice cool. “Ms. Seraphina, Mr. Ward oversees corporate compliance. The personnel and daily administration of the executive suite have never fallen under the supervisory board’s jurisdiction. That is written in our bylaws. It is not my decision, nor is it Mr. Ward’s.” Seraphina’s eyes turned icy. “Miles, do you have any idea who you are talking to?” “I do,” Miles replied smoothly. “Ms. Seraphina, the newly appointed secretary of the executive suite, on her very first day of employment.” The words weren’t loud, but they cut deep. She turned her attention back to me, trying to apply pressure from another angle. “Ms. Mariette, I am giving you one last chance. Cooperate with me regarding today’s incident, and we can pretend nothing happened. You can come to the office, and we won’t interfere with each other. But if you persist…” She paused, her eyes scanning my face. “I won’t hesitate to have Mr. Ward handle this personally. If this escalates, it won’t end well for anyone.” I pushed the cold lobster roll aside, looking up at her. “Ms. Seraphina, how long have you been in this room today?” Seraphina frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?” “Just curious,” I said. “You walked in, locked the door, threatened me with your board connection, argued with the chief secretary, and now you want to make a deal.” I tilted my head. “Do you really think you have any cards left to play?” Seraphina’s expression shifted, a flash of panic crossing her features before she quickly suppressed it. She took a deep breath, her cold smile returning. “You have a sharp tongue, Ms. Mariette.” “I’ve always been like this. My brothers are used to it.” “Your brothers?” Seraphina let out a soft, mocking laugh. “Your brothers aren’t here right now. Even if they adore you, they can’t save you from this.” She took a step closer, pointing toward the door. “So, Ms. Mariette, you had better think carefully. Are you going to leave on your own, or do I need to have security escort you out?” Miles stepped forward. “Ms. Seraphina—” “Miles, if you interfere again,” Seraphina snapped, her voice turning completely cold, “I will call Mr. Ward right now and have him ask you why a secretary is repeatedly obstructing executive administration.” Miles stopped. Seraphina looked back at me, her hand still pointing toward the exit. “After you, Ms. Mariette.” I stared at her outstretched hand for three long seconds. Then, I raised my eyes, looking past her shoulder toward the doorway. Sensing my gaze, Seraphina’s brow furrowed, and she slowly turned around. The sound of heavy, measured footsteps echoed in the hallway. The door opened. My eldest brother, Dominic, stood in the doorway. “What,” he spoke, his voice entirely flat, “is going on here?”

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I have always detested Madeline. Even though our mother reminded me a thousand times that she was my sister, I remained entirely indifferent. My brother, Beckett, had always insisted that I was his one and only sister. So when the floating comments first appeared in my vision, claiming that his cold exterior was a facade and that he was actually madly in love with Madeline, I did not believe a single word. Until the day we graduated. We went on a celebratory road trip and ended up in a horrific car crash. Beckett’s very first instinct was to throw his body over Madeline, shielding her from the impact. When the onlookers shattered the glass to drag us out of the wreckage, he only cared about getting her to safety first. He completely forgot that his own biological sister was still trapped in the crumpled back seat. Even as blood poured down my face and I screamed his name, he never once looked back. Right then, a line of white text floated across my vision: Oh my god, the chemistry is insane! He will always choose her first. 01 After the paramedics finally pulled me out of the crushed metal, the pain in my leg was blinding. Lying on the hard asphalt, my face covered in blood, I kept my eyes locked on the space ahead of me. I watched Beckett fussing over Madeline, so consumed by panic that he didn’t even notice the deep gash on his own arm. He kept cradling her face, asking, “Does your head hurt? Is anything broken?” “Where are the paramedics? Why aren’t they here yet?” “Don’t worry, Maddy. I’m right here.” The floating comments surged across my field of vision like a live stream chat: The male lead finally stopped hiding how much he cares about her! Look at him, he looks like he’s going out of his mind with worry. He’s terrified she might be hurt. Only then did I realize that the floating comments had been telling the truth all along. Beckett knew exactly how much I loathed Madeline. Yet, when faced with life and death, my own brother chose to save the person I despised most. A wave of intense, suffocating nausea washed over me. I dug my fingernails deep into my palms and used the last of my strength to scream his name. “Beckett!” He didn’t turn around. Before I could see if he ever would, the darkness swallowed me whole. When I finally woke up in the hospital, my head had four stitches, and my right leg was secured in a heavy plaster cast. Beckett was sitting by my bed, letting out a long sigh of relief when he saw my eyes flutter open. “Thank God you’re awake. Mom was worried sick.” “She’s over in Madeline’s room right now. I’ll go let her know you’re up.” I stared at him, keeping my mouth shut. Beckett raised an eyebrow. “What’s with the look?” My eyes drifted to the clean white bandage wrapped around his arm. “Does it hurt?” He let out a soft laugh. “Come on, Penny. You worry too much. It’s just a scratch, nothing to cry about.” The comments flashed before my eyes again: That’s his badge of honor for protecting the female lead. He finally confessed his feelings, didn’t he? Why is the annoying sister awake already? He needs to go check on Maddy. Looking at his handsome, familiar face, the nausea returned, stronger than before. He knew. He knew how much I hated her, yet he had fallen in love with her anyway. He had abandoned me in a burning car to save her. A slow, hot anger began to burn through my veins. Even though the comments had spelled out the reality for me, I still wanted to hear it from him. I wanted to hear the excuse he would make. I gripped the bedsheets tightly, my knuckles turning white. “Beckett, why did you save Madeline first?” “I screamed your name. Did you hear me?” “You always told me I was your only sister.” My voice was quiet, but every word was heavy. “So why did you leave me behind? Weren’t you afraid I would die?” Beckett stiffened, a look of mild irritation crossing his face. “Penny, seriously? Are you really being this petty over who got carried out of the car first?” “It was a chaotic accident. Nobody had time to think.” More text slid across the air: Here we go, the jealous sister trying to compete with the female lead. She always has to make it about herself. Can she please realize she’s just a sibling? He has the right to save whoever he wants. Why does she keep embarrassing herself? She can’t compete with the female lead anyway. She’s completely invisible to him now. I stared at him, my heart turning cold. Beckett sighed, reaching out to pat my shoulder. “Look, if it makes you feel better, I’m sorry. I apologize, okay?” “Just stop being angry.” “I’ll go tell Mom you’re awake.” My throat tightened, a stinging warmth rising behind my eyes. I watched him walk out of the room, his shadow stretching long and distant across the linoleum floor. I had never felt more pathetic. The comments floated by once more: Honestly, I’d be exhausted dealing with a sister like her too. But to be fair, she got absolutely wrecked. A broken leg and stitches on her head. Meanwhile, the brother only has a scratch, and the female lead was protected so well she doesn’t have a single mark. Well, she’s the female lead. Of course she’s fine. Mom and Beckett insisted on keeping her in the hospital for observation anyway, just to be safe. Otherwise, she could have been discharged yesterday. I closed my eyes, refusing to look at the text any longer. I had always known that my mother loved Madeline more than she loved me. But I had foolishly believed that to my brother, I was the one who mattered. Now I understood. A person’s split-second instinct is the truest reflection of their heart. I just didn’t understand why everyone in my life preferred Madeline over me. They were my family, weren’t they? 02 My mother had loved Madeline long before she ever set foot in our house. I remembered the day Mom sat me down, her face solemn as she spoke. “Penny, I’m bringing your cousin to live with us. You must treat her like your own sister, understand?” “She is the only piece of my sister I have left in this world.” “You must never, ever be mean to her.” As a young girl, I had nodded eagerly. “I promise, Mom.” My mother had been incredibly close to her older sister, Catherine. During the years my mother was lost, before the wealthy Caldwell family finally tracked her down, Catherine had been the only person who showed her any kindness. Even after the Caldwells brought my mother back to their estate, they continued to favor the fake daughter they had raised. Love is a strange thing; it doesn’t always care about bloodlines. People tend to cherish what they have nurtured with their own hands, the ones they have watched grow day by day. Eventually, my mother cut ties with the Caldwells. But after Aunt Catherine passed away, my mother’s first instinct was to bring Madeline into our home. To Mom, Madeline was a reflection of her younger self: orphaned, abandoned, with no one to rely on but her aunt. Once Madeline arrived, my mother’s world began to revolve entirely around her. I tried everything to get my mother to look at me. I tried getting perfect grades, scraping my knees, standing quietly in corners. But the moment Madeline shed a single tear, my mother forgot everything else. She forgot about my scraped knees, forgot about the things I couldn’t reach, forgot about me standing under the rain waiting for her. But before Madeline came, my mother hadn’t been like that. She used to see me the moment I entered a room. She used to hold me when I cried, and when I fell ill, she would stay up all night weeping quietly by my side. I used to love her hugs. But she hadn’t held me in years. Whenever I tried to wrap my arms around her, she would gently push me away, telling me she had to tend to Madeline first. Slowly, the love I had for my new sister curdled into resentment. I hated her. She had stolen my mother. And whenever we had a disagreement, my mother always took her side. “Penny, you’re the older one. You have to accommodate your sister.” “She lost her mother. Are you really going to bully her too?” Those words carved deep, silent wounds into my heart. When I was nine, Madeline and I got into a fight, and she shoved me hard against the corner of my wooden desk. The pain was sharp and sudden. Tears springing to my eyes, I lunged forward and knocked her to the ground. When our mother came into the room, she didn’t look at the dark bruise forming on my back. She only saw Madeline crying on the floor. “Mom, she pushed me first!” I cried out, my voice trembling. “My back hurts so bad…” My mother looked at me, her eyes filled with cold disappointment. “Madeline is your guest, Penny! Why can’t you be the mature one for once?” “I asked you to get along with her, and this is how you behave?” “Do you ever listen to a single thing I tell you?” In that moment, a violent chill swept through my body. I couldn’t stop shaking. “I hate her!” I screamed, the tears spilling over. “She’s not my sister! Why does she have to live in our house?” “Aren’t you my mom?” “Aren’t I your actual child?” “Why do you only care about her?” The next sound was the sharp crack of my mother’s palm against my cheek. I stood there, my hand pressed against my stinging face, utterly numb. I didn’t even notice when she picked Madeline up and left the room. 03 That night, after finding out what had happened, Beckett came into my room with a handful of candies hidden in his pocket. I clung to him, sobbing until I could barely breathe. He stroked my hair gently. “Crybaby.” “Don’t worry. You’ll always be my only sister.” Years later, when Beckett repeated those words in the kitchen, our mother overheard him. She reprimanded him severely. “Madeline is your sister too! How can you say something so heartless?” “And you, Penny. I told you to get along with her, and you go running to your brother to tattle on her?” And now, the same dismissive tone echoed in my hospital room. “Penny, can you stop being so dramatic? Just because your brother saved Madeline first, you’re going to hold a grudge?” “Are you still acting like a child?” I opened my eyes. My mother was standing at the foot of my bed. I didn’t say a word. I just looked down at my heavy plaster cast. A wave of bitter, pathetic sorrow washed over me. “Mom, it hurts so much.” Why didn’t you come to see me first? Madeline is completely unharmed. I’m the one with the broken leg. I’m the one with the stitches. Why can’t you look at my injuries? Why do you only have eyes for her? My mother gave me a brief, unsympathetic look. “If it hurts, then lie still and rest.” “You still have the energy to argue with your brother over nonsense.” “Clearly, you aren’t hurting that much.” The desire to speak vanished instantly. It was always like this. No matter the circumstances, it was always my fault. A few sympathetic comments drifted across the screen: Am I the only one who feels terrible for her? Her leg is literally broken and she has stitches. And the first thing her mother does is scold her instead of asking how she feels. That’s cold. Well, she brought it on herself. The moment she woke up, she started complaining that her brother didn’t save her first. Does she not know her place in his heart? It’s honestly embarrassing. But from her perspective, it’s completely valid. The brother who promised to protect her abandoned her in a bloody wreck. She was covered in blood, screaming his name, and he didn’t even look back. Please, he wasn’t obligated to save her. It’s his choice. When the person you love is in danger, your body moves on instinct. That’s just how it is. I get why she’s upset, but he still had the right to choose. I stared at the last comment, feeling a strange numbness settle over me. My mother opened her phone and sent a transaction to my account. “You’ll be recovering in the hospital for a while. I’ve spoken with Mrs. Gable, and she’ll bring you three meals a day.” “Madeline even suggested hiring a private nurse for you. Your brother went to look into it.” I felt a sudden shift in her tone. Sure enough, she continued, “If the doctors clear Madeline tomorrow, we’re going to Paris. Your father is already there on business.” I felt my chest tighten. “What about me? You’re going to leave me here alone?” My mother sighed, looking exasperated. “Penny, look at yourself. Can you travel like this?” “This summer is your only chance to relax before college starts. You can’t expect the entire family to sit in a hospital room just because you’re injured.” “Why can’t you be more understanding? Stop comparing yourself to Madeline.” “Madeline felt so guilty about your brother saving her first that she wanted to come and apologize to you.” “Luckily, Beckett and I managed to stop her.” I listened to her words, waiting for the familiar rise of anger, the urge to fight back. But instead, a deep, hollow silence settled within me. The fire was gone. “I understand,” I said quietly. My mother blinked, surprised by my sudden compliance. I looked at her, my voice entirely steady. “Since I can’t go to Paris with you, send me my portion of the travel budget. I’ll buy myself something nice instead.” She hesitated for a second, then pulled out her phone and transferred the money. When she finally left the room, I lay back against the pillows, closing my eyes, letting the silence wrap around me. My family’s harmony was built entirely on my silent endurance. If I didn’t back down, I was labeled difficult. None of them cared. And now, my brother didn’t even hide his devotion to Maddy anymore. I was utterly alone. 04 My private nurse was delivered to my room the following afternoon, escorted by Beckett and Madeline. When Madeline saw the white bandages around my head and the heavy cast on my leg, her eyes widened in a display of shocked pity. I hated that look. It made me feel like some pathetic, wounded animal she could look down upon. What right did she have to pity me? I wanted to tell her to wipe that fake look off her face, but I was simply too exhausted to speak. Madeline stepped forward, her face clouded with worry. “Penny, are you okay?” “I didn’t know your leg was hurt this badly. If I had known, I would have told Beckett to pull you out first.” “I’m so sorry. Please don’t be mad at him.” I kept my mouth shut, letting my eyes sweep over her. Beckett had indeed protected her perfectly. There wasn’t a single scratch on her fair skin. And then there was me: stitches, a broken bone, and a heart turned to ash. Seeing my silence, Beckett’s brow furrowed. “Penny, don’t start.” “Have some manners.” I looked up at him, meeting his eyes. “You’re a dumbass.” Beckett froze, a look of sheer disbelief crossing his face before he let out a sharp, angry laugh. “Your attitude is unbelievable, Penny.” “No wonder Mom didn’t want Madeline visiting you. She knew you’d just take your frustration out on her.” I blinked slowly. “I was talking to you.” His eyes narrowed, a dangerous edge creeping into his voice. “Penny, you’re really pushing it.” Comments began to stream: Wow, the sister is savage. The brother looks like he’s about to lose his mind. She’s so childish, she doesn’t even know how to speak to people. Madeline is trying to be nice, and she gets treated like trash. Wait, is it just me, or does Madeline sound incredibly passive-aggressive? ‘If I had known, I would have told him to save you first’—her leg is literally broken, that’s just rubbing salt in the wound! Exactly, it’s totally toxic. You guys are being way too sensitive. I ignored the comments, keeping my voice cool. “Have you booked your tickets to France?” Beckett seemed to remember my injury, glancing down at my leg. “You can’t even walk. Is that why you’re throwing a tantrum?” Madeline gently touched his arm, gesturing for him to stop. She turned back to me. “Penny, we can stay. We can wait until you’re discharged before we go to France. I’ll talk to Auntie.” “No way,” Beckett countered immediately. “That will take weeks.” “Don’t let her guilt-trip you, Maddy. We already planned this trip.” “Even if you stay, she won’t appreciate it.” Watching him jump to her defense once again, I felt the last of my energy drain away. I closed my eyes. “Dumbass.” They were doing this on purpose, surely. They wanted to see me break. I took a breath, keeping my voice even. “Since you’re going to France and I’m staying here, transfer me my share of the trip expenses. The money Beckett promised to cover.” If I couldn’t go, I was at least taking what was mine. Every single cent. Once the notification of his transfer popped up on my phone, I waved them away, signaling for them to get out. As they walked out, Madeline cast one last look over her shoulder. It was that same pitying, superior look. I wondered if Beckett was truly blind. How could he look at her and see nothing but innocence? It was pathetic.

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The popular girl at school got her period and stained her dress. Without a second thought, I swapped clothes with her. But when I went to buy her some pads, the cold, aloof top student who had always ignored me suddenly approached me in the aisle. “Did you find what you need? Give it to me, I’ll pay.” Even my sharp-tongued childhood friend, the one who loved mocking me more than anyone, looked incredibly gentle and soft in that moment. “You, you look really pretty today.” I froze in place. I actually believed my quiet kindness had finally been noticed by the people around me. Until I turned around to say thank you. The two handsome boys frowned, their expressions instantly hardening as they spoke in unison: “Why is it you?” 1 The first to react was my childhood friend, Ryder. He was leaning lazily against the metal shelves, but the moment he realized who I was, he shoved my shoulder with a careless hand. An arrogant smirk crawled back onto his face. “What the hell? “What kind of phase are you going through today, trying to wear a dress like everyone else?” Ryder let out a sharp scoff, letting his eyes wander over me with blatant amusement before laughing out loud. “Are you out of your mind? You look like you’re wearing a white potato sack. “What kind of trash style is this? It looks hideous. “Look, if you seriously don’t know how to pick out a dress, just throw on a black garbage bag next time. At least that way…” He leaned down slightly, lowering his face to mine. Slowly, mockingly, he whispered, “It might actually hide the ugly.” My fingers tightened around the boxes of pads and heating patches in my arms. The plastic packaging crinkled loudly in the quiet aisle. Just then, a soft chuckle floated from above. It was a quiet sound, the kind of polite laugh someone lets out when they hear a stupid joke but want to keep the conversation from dying. But to me, that soft chuckle sounded like a thunderclap. It came from Wood, the boy I had spent the last three months desperately trying to get to notice me. I lowered my eyes, biting my lip so hard it hurt. I forced myself not to scream at Ryder, terrified that if I lost my temper like I usually did, any tiny shred of respect Wood had for me would vanish forever. But my silence only made Ryder push harder. 2 “Wow, look at our resident drama queen. What is wrong with you today? You’re actually keeping your mouth shut?” He reached out, mockingly tapping his knuckles against my forehead. “Well, you don’t have a fever.” His eyes drifted downward, landing on the items clutched tightly against my chest. A slow, knowing smile spread across his face. “Oh, I get it. You’re on your period. “I almost forgot you’re actually a girl. “Though, honestly, I always thought girls were supposed to look more like your desk-mate to count as the real deal.” I trembled with a mixture of rage and humiliation. Tears blurred my vision, turning the brightly lit store into a smear of colors. The only clear thing left was a pastel pink thermal flask suddenly thrust into my field of vision. I stared at the pale, elegant hand holding the flask. Slowly raising my head, I realized it belonged to Wood, the guy who usually treated me like I was invisible. I was too stunned to move. It took me several seconds of staring before I reached out and took the flask, my voice trembling. “Is this for me?” Wood looked down at me from his height. His eyes lingered on my red, tear-stained eyes for a fraction of a second. His throat bobbed. He looked away, his expression returning to its usual cold indifference. “Give it to Genevieve. “Her cycle is coming up, and I know she gets bad cramps. “Inside is…” “I’ll give it to her,” I interrupted, my heart sinking into my stomach. I clutched the flask and ran toward the registers like a coward trying to escape a battlefield. But as I stood in line to pay, I could still hear Ryder’s lazy voice echoing from the back of the store, talking to Wood. “Seriously, didn’t she look ridiculous in that dress? “You should have seen her when we did track together as kids. She ran like a burly lumberjack. “I never thought I’d see the day Paige actually squeezed herself into a skirt.” I didn’t turn around to see if Wood was looking at me. But I heard his quiet, dismissive reply. “Yeah.” 3 I walked back to the classroom with my head down, feeling completely hollow. When I pushed the door open, I didn’t announce my arrival with a cheerful shout like I usually did. I didn’t call out, Hey, Genevieve! I got your stuff! I just walked quietly toward my seat. As usual, Genevieve’s desk was surrounded by a crowd of popular kids. They were spilled over onto my chair, completely blocking my way. I heard one of the girls ask her, “So, Genevieve, who is it going to be? Wood, the star student, or Ryder, the varsity captain?” It was a question Genevieve got asked almost every single day. She always avoided giving a straight answer. But whenever the crowd dispersed, she would hold my hand with a sweet, reassuring smile and whisper, Don’t listen to them, Paige. Wood and I just take prep classes together. We’re just friends. If you like him, you should totally go for it! But today, for some reason, my feet glued themselves to the floor. I stayed back, wanting to hear what she really thought. Genevieve offered a bright, dimpled smile, her voice dripping with playful sweetness. “Ugh, why do you guys have to ask such hard questions? “Wood is amazing, but Ryder is so sweet too. It’s impossible to choose.” Someone laughed, nudging her shoulder. “Just pick the one who treats you best. One of those handsome boys is going to end up heartbroken anyway.” I stood frozen in the shadow of the doorway. I watched Genevieve twirl a lock of her hair around her finger, looking utterly helpless. “But they both treat me so well. “I mean, look at Ryder. He’s so incredibly rude to Paige, and they’ve literally grown up together. But he’s always so gentle and attentive with me. “And Wood? Paige has been throwing herself at him for three months, and he won’t even look her in the eye. But he treats me so differently.” She let out a heavy, dramatic sigh, as if carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. “There’s only one of me, you know? “I don’t want to make a reckless decision and hurt either of them. “So I guess I’ll just have to wait and see how they behave.” The warning bell for the next class rang right on cue. Genevieve shrugged playfully, telling everyone to get back to their seats. When her eyes finally landed on me standing in the doorway, she pouted with slight irritation. “What took you so long to buy some simple pads? “The break is almost over, and now I don’t even have time to go to the bathroom. “I was actually planning to go find…” “That’ll be twenty dollars,” I said, tossing the plastic bag onto her desk. I kept my eyes fixed forward, my voice completely flat. “Venmo me.” 4 She didn’t notice the coldness in my voice. Assuming I had simply been rejected by Wood again, she offered a few empty, rehearsed words of comfort. I ignored her. When the final bell rang at the end of the day, she tapped my shoulder with the eraser end of her pencil. “Paige, I’m going out to dinner with my parents tonight, so I won’t have time to finish the history essay. “The usual deal. You do mine, and I’ll give you a choice. Either I convince Wood to tutor you tomorrow, or I’ll give Ryder a piece of my mind so he behaves himself around you.” Genevieve smiled, sliding her notebook onto my desk. “Make sure you copy my handwriting carefully. The teacher almost noticed last time.” I didn’t reach for the notebook. Instead, I stood up, swung my backpack over my shoulder, and looked her in the eye. “No. “There’s too much homework tonight, and I need to study. I have to stay up late to finish my own work.” Genevieve snapped upright, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Ryder hasn’t been bothering you lately, so forget about him. “But this is a private tutoring session with Wood we’re talking about! “Paige, don’t tell me you don’t like him anymore?” The memory of Wood’s momentary gentleness in the store flashed through my mind, leaving a dull, aching pain in my chest. But the harsh reality of why he had been gentle woke me up. “Yeah,” I said quietly. I walked toward the classroom door, speaking loud enough for the remaining students to hear. “I don’t like Wood anymore. “And I don’t need Ryder’s fake apologies.” Just as I reached the hallway, Ryder’s sarcastic voice cut through the air. “Wow, Paige. Look at you, talking big. “Who gave you permission to act so tough? What’s next, are you going to say you’re cutting ties with me? “Come on, let’s go. My mom made your favorite dinner tonight…” “Great idea,” I interrupted, staring straight at him. Every word was sharp and deliberate. “Cutting ties sounds perfect.” Without looking at his stunned, turning-pale face, I pushed past him and walked away. I didn’t look at Wood once. Behind me, I heard Genevieve call out in an irritated tone, “Wood! I’ve called your name three times. What are you staring at?” 5 On the walk home, I realized it had been a very long time since I had experienced such silence. Usually, my afternoons were spent either trying to find excuses to linger near Wood, or dealing with Ryder walking beside me, bickering and arguing all the way to my front door. But today, the air was peaceful. It felt as though the noisy world had shrunk, leaving only me. A thought slowly bloomed in my mind: Is it possible that my value as a person doesn’t need to be validated by anyone else? The thought made my steps feel lighter. I stopped to feed a stray kitten near the alley. I helped an elderly lady pick up the oranges that had rolled out of her torn grocery bag after a passing car startled her. I even guided a visually impaired woman to the entrance of the subway station. By the time I finally reached my porch, Ryder was leaning against the railing, waiting for me. 6 Ryder looked at the dirty white dress I was still wearing. He opened his mouth, clearly wanting to make some biting remark, but he forced himself to swallow the words. He cleared his throat, holding out a brown paper bag toward me. “I got you those loaded garlic fries you love. The ones from the food truck downtown. “The line was insanely long. “Eat them before they get cold.” The rich, savory scent of garlic and melted cheese drifted into the cool air. Ryder shoved his hands into his pockets, chewing his gum nervously, watching me out of the corner of his eye. I knew this was his way of apologizing. He was offering a bridge. Usually, I would take it, and everything would go back to normal. But this time, I didn’t want to. Before I could figure out how to tell him, my phone vibrated in my pocket. It was a call from Genevieve. Her voice was bright and bubbling. “Paige! Did Ryder apologize to you yet?” I remained silent. She let out a dramatic, giggling sigh on the other end. “Oh my god, he’s so ridiculous. I casually mentioned in our group chat that I was craving those garlic fries, and he literally went and stood in that massive line to buy them. He even brought them to the restaurant where I was having dinner with my parents! I couldn’t exactly take them in front of my parents, so I told him to take them to you instead! “Tell me, did he look sorry? If he wasn’t nice about it, let me know. I’ll stop talking to him until he learns how to behave!” I didn’t care about her warning. Only one word stuck in my mind. “Group chat?” I asked, my voice flat. “What group chat? Do the three of you have a chat?” 7 There was a sudden, awkward silence on the other end. “Oh… oops,” Genevieve muttered, her tone turning defensive. “I wasn’t supposed to say that. “But Paige, don’t be mad. Wood was the one who—” “It’s fine,” I said quietly, and hung up the phone. Before Ryder could speak, before he could offer whatever excuse he was preparing, I snatched the bag of fries from his hands and threw them directly into the trash can next to the porch. Then, I slammed the front door shut, locking it with a heavy click.

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1 I was the true heiress to the Sinclair empire, New York’s wealthiest family. When they finally found me, my parents were consumed by guilt. They threw a massive gala, inviting the city’s entire elite class just to welcome me home. The ballroom was packed with the handsome heirs of old money, each one a perfect match on paper. “Helena, darling, you are the sole heir to the Sinclair fortune,” my mother whispered, gesturing to the crowd. “You can have any man in this room.” My gaze swept past the sea of desperate bachelors and settled on a man standing near the terrace. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and effortlessly handsome, exuding a quiet, refined elegance. My parents winced. “Richard Bennett?” my father muttered, his brow furrowing. “He was widowed not long ago. And he has a twenty-year-old son.” Eleanor shook her head. “They’re small-time, Helena. He’s beneath you.” The words tasted like ash, dragging me back twenty years. An eighteen-year-old boy had stood before me, his expression cold and unyielding. “Hannah, thank you for saving my life,” he had said, tossing a check onto the worn wooden table. “But I am the heir to the Bennett legacy, and I already have a fiancée. You’re just a girl from a backwater town, and you don’t belong in my world. Here is fifty thousand dollars. Don’t ever look for me again.” I snapped back to the present, shaking my head with a slow smile. I tilted my chin toward the young man standing next to Richard. “He’s too old. I don’t want him.” I paused, letting my smile widen. “But his son looks promising.” The boy was lean and tall, dressed in a crisp black shirt. His features were a striking seventy percent replica of Richard’s, but carved with sharper, more defiant angles. My mother gasped, her hand instantly snapping around my wrist. “Helena, that boy is only twenty. You… there is a generation gap between you two!” I tilted my head, offering her a sweet, innocent smile. “But Mom, didn’t you just say I could have anyone I wanted?” She stammered, turning to my father for backup. “She’s not wrong,” Thomas Sinclair chuckled. “A Sinclair heiress taking a younger husband is hardly a scandal. Besides, the Bennetts are struggling. They won’t dare say no to a lifeline.” I let out a silent, bitter laugh. Twenty years ago, those exact words had been hurled at my face. It felt like a physical blow, drawing no blood but leaving an ache that had throbbed for two decades. My father began walking toward Richard. Along the way, wealthy guests bowed and nodded in deference. Richard was no exception, offering a polite, almost eager nod. The arrogant, untouchable boy who once threw cruel words around so easily had finally aged. He was mature now, humbled by the world, and he had finally learned how to bow his head. My father spoke to him in hushed tones. I watched Richard’s face morph from polite pleasantry to sheer shock, then to a pale, stricken mask. “Mr. Sinclair, Jude is only twenty,” Richard stammered, his voice carrying slightly. “He hasn’t even finished college. Your daughter… she is old enough to be his mother!” The surrounding chatter died down instantly. Whispers began to ripple through the ballroom. “Wait, is the Sinclair heiress targeting Bennett’s son?” “Isn’t she nearly forty? The boy is barely out of his teens. That’s practically cradle-robbing.” I took a slow sip of my champagne, my eyes locked onto Richard. He looked lost, disbelieving, his hands trembling slightly as his face paled. He looked exactly the way I had felt twenty years ago. “Richard,” my father said, his tone smooth but unyielding. “I spent twenty years searching for my daughter. I will give her whatever she wants. If you agree to this marriage, the Sinclair Group will guarantee a highly lucrative partnership.” My father named a figure. A collective gasp echoed through the room. Richard’s pupils shrank. He was visibly shaken. Before returning to the Sinclairs, I had clawed my way up the corporate ladder on my own, and I knew all the dirty secrets of high society. When Richard inherited the Bennett Group, it was already a rotting apple, polished on the outside but hollowed out by debt. No matter how brilliant a businessman he was, he couldn’t save a sinking ship without capital. The deal my father offered was enough to resurrect his entire empire. Twenty years ago, he abandoned me to save his family business. Now, would he sacrifice his own son for that same business? “No, I won’t let my son…” Richard began. Before he could finish, Jude stepped forward. “Dad, I’ll do it. I’ll marry into the Sinclair family.” The young man’s voice was clear and steady, devoid of the panic you would expect from a college student. But his tightly clenched fists betrayed his nerves. Richard’s face went completely white. He grabbed Jude’s arm. “Are you insane, Jude? You are so young. How could you marry that old…” My father cleared his throat right on cue. The venomous word was choked back down Richard’s throat. Jude gently pried his father’s hand away. “Dad, let me help the family. A prestigious family like the Sinclairs won’t mistreat me.” My father laughed, clapping Richard on the shoulder. “You’ve raised a sensible boy, Richard. I like him.” Richard stood frozen, his knuckles white as he stared at his son with agonizing pain. Yet, he didn’t say another word of protest. “I have one condition,” Jude suddenly spoke up, his gaze cutting directly through the crowd to lock onto me. I raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised. My father hadn’t even introduced me yet, but the boy had targeted me with laser precision. “I will agree to the marriage, but I want us to spend time together first.” The tips of his ears flushed a light pink, but his expression remained dead serious. There was nervousness in his eyes, but also a faint glint of… anticipation? “I don’t want my marriage to Ms. Sinclair to be nothing but a business transaction.” Did he know me? Well, this was getting interesting. I spoke up, my voice carrying across the silent hall. “I accept your condition.” My father walked over to my side, beaming with pride. “Perfect. Everyone, let me officially introduce my daughter, Helena Sinclair!” The room erupted. “That’s the Sinclair heiress? She’s forty? She looks like she’s in her twenties! How is that even possible?” Richard stared at me, his eyes swirling with confusion, shock, and a hint of anger. He didn’t recognize me. It made sense; twenty years ago, I wore my hair in simple braids and spent my days working under the scorching sun on a dusty farm. I was tanned and plain back then. It was only natural he couldn’t connect me to the polished woman standing before him now. “Wait, is she Hannah Sinclair?” someone whispered. “As in the founder of Apex Drone Tech? The startup that got bought out by the government three years ago? That was her!” “The Bennetts just hit the absolute jackpot.” Hannah had been my name back then. Ironically, it was the fifty thousand dollars Richard threw at me that became my seed money. I had used it to build a tech empire, climbing to a height where men like him could only look up. At the mention of my old name, Richard’s face contorted. “Hannah? You’re Hannah from Oakhaven?” Twenty years, and he still remembered that tiny town? I tilted my head, feigning ignorance. “I grew up in Blue Ridge, Mr. Bennett. I’ve never heard of Oakhaven.” Ignoring his frantic expression, I shifted my gaze back to the quiet boy beside him. My voice took on a playful, teasing edge. “Would you like to go for a drive after the party, my soon-to-be fiancé?” Jude agreed without a second thought. Once it was settled, I turned on my heel, leaving the father and son behind. I spent the rest of the evening playing the dutiful daughter, greeting my parents’ high-profile business associates. Yet, throughout the night, I felt a heavy gaze burning into my back. When I finally turned, I caught Jude staring. He immediately looked away, flushing like a startled rabbit. A soft smile tugged at my lips. How could this boy be so completely different from his father? Twenty years ago, when I dragged a half-dead Richard out of a muddy ditch, it took him only a few days to recover and start tailing me like a loyal puppy. “Hannah, you saved my life, let me marry you!” “Hannah, you’re so beautiful, I want you to be my wife!” He had been so sweet back then, his eyes full of devotion, ready to hand me his entire world. Now, looking back, it felt like a lifetime ago. When did he change? It had been too long, and the memory was too faded to care. I lingered for an extra five minutes before heading down to the parking garage. Beside my black luxury SUV, the boy was waiting patiently, leaning against the concrete pillar. When he saw me approach, he nervously scuffed the toe of his shoe against the floor. “Ms. Sinclair.” “I thought you’d run away,” I teased. His eyes darted away, but his voice remained steady. “I keep my promises.” I unlocked the car and gestured with my head. “Get in. I’m taking you somewhere fun.” He hesitated for a fraction of a second before climbing into the passenger seat, sitting as stiff as a board. Whether from nerves or forgetfulness, he didn’t put on his seatbelt. I leaned across the console, my body brushing close to his as I pulled the strap over him. The buckle clicked into place. He froze instantly, his muscles hardening like stone as he held his breath. “What are you so scared of? I don’t bite,” I murmured, starting the engine. His lips parted, but it took him a long moment to speak. “You knew my father before tonight, didn’t you?” It wasn’t a question. My fingers tapped against the steering wheel. I didn’t deny it. “You’re sharp.” He turned his face toward the window, watching the neon lights of the city blur past. “When he heard your name, he looked like he’d seen a ghost. I’ve never seen him like that.” “Your father owed me an apology,” I said coldly. “Tonight, I used his son to collect the debt right in front of him.” Jude’s eyelashes fluttered, but he didn’t look away. “So marrying me is just a game of revenge?” “Partially,” I admitted without hesitation. “But I gave you a chance to walk away, and you chose to stay.” His ears burned red again. He opened his mouth to ask more, but I cut him off. “Save the questions for later, kid.” I stepped on the gas, and the car roared out of the garage. We drove in silence. Jude leaned against the window, his thumbs flying across his screen. Suddenly, a loud, obnoxious male voice blasted from his phone speakers. “No way, man! Your dad is actually making you marry that old lady? She’s forty! Doesn’t she smell like a nursing home already?!” Jude gasped, dropping his phone in a panic. By the time he scrambled to retrieve it, the voice message had finished playing. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. “Your friends seem very concerned about you.” This time, his entire face turned crimson. The kid blushed way too easily. “I… I’m so sorry. My friend is an idiot. I apologize for him.” I spun the wheel smoothly. “It’s fine. I don’t hold grudges against kids. But his little insult goes on your tab. You’ll have to make it up to me in a bit.” He nodded quickly. I smirked, hoping he wouldn’t regret that promise. Half an hour later, we pulled up to an airfield on the outskirts of the city. Jude stared at the helicopter waiting on the tarmac, his face losing color by the second. “We… we’re doing this?” “What? Are you scared?” I climbed into the chopper and reached out a hand. No twenty-year-old boy could resist a blow to his pride. He took my hand and hopped in. “Who said I was scared? Let’s do it!” I didn’t give him a chance to back out. Once the tandem harness was secured, I gave him a playful nudge with my knee, sending us plunging out of the open door. He let out a bloodcurdling scream as we fell through the sky. The wind roared in our ears. I leaned close to his ear, my voice calm and steady. “Don’t panic! I’ve got my license, and I’m a certified instructor. Just trust me and enjoy the ride.” When we hit the ground, Jude’s legs were shaking like jelly, but he wrapped his arms around me so tight I could barely breathe. “Helena! That was insane! I’ve never felt anything like that!” That night, I took him to an underground street race. We caught a midnight thriller at an indie theater, and finally wound up in a quiet, dim bar where I mixed him a proper Long Island Iced Tea. By 2:00 AM, he was completely wasted, slurring something about how he had wanted to meet me for a long time. Half-amused and half-indulgent, I took him back to my penthouse. When I woke up the next morning, a soft, sleepy voice mumbled from behind me. “You… you have to take responsibility for this.” I laughed softly. “We’re literally engaged. Of course I will.” He jolted awake, staring at the ceiling. “My dad is going to kill me if he finds out…” “Is he really that strict?” I asked. “Yeah. I used to have a crush on someone, and before he even knew her name, he accused her of being a gold-digger,” Jude muttered, his eyes searching my face as if looking for a reaction. “But look at him. When my mother was alive, they fought constantly because he kept saying she couldn’t compare to the woman he loved in his youth.” I looked away, maintaining my mask of indifference. “How hypocritical of him.” The woman from his youth? I had run a background check on Richard. Aside from Jude’s late mother, I was the only woman he had ever been with. It was hilarious. Twenty years ago, he threw me away because of my background to marry a wealthy socialite. Yet, once married, he spent his years pining for me and making his wife miserable. What a pathetic, twisted man. “Ms. Sinclair, there is a Mr. Bennett at the door,” my housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, called out, knocking gently on the bedroom door. Jude wanted to say more, but I used the interruption to slip into a silk robe and head out. Richard stood in the foyer, dressed in a sharp suit, his face like a thundercloud. The moment I walked in, his eyes locked onto my neck, his brow furrowing deeply. I glanced at the mirror in the hallway. A faint, dark mark sat right above my collarbone. Well, the kid certainly didn’t hold back. “Helena,” Richard growled, his voice trembling with anger. “Who is in there? Are you keeping a boy toy? A college student? A gigolo?” I crossed my arms, leaning lazily against the doorframe. “Why are you so sure it’s not your son?” His voice cracked. “Impossible! Jude is a good boy. He would never sleep with an… an older woman like you before marriage!” I recalled Jude’s breathless whispers from the night before, letting out a quiet chuckle but offering no reply. Richard took a ragged breath. “Get rid of him before the wedding. Even if Jude marries into your family, I won’t let him be with a woman who keeps playthings on the side.” I looked him up and down. “Don’t worry. Whether he’s a college kid or a gigolo, he’s from a small-time background. How could he possibly compete with your son?” Richard’s face burned with humiliation. “Watch your tongue!” My expression remained ice-cold as I stared him down until his bravado crumbled. “Are you… are you really not Hannah from Oakhaven?” he whispered. A wave of disgust washed over me. “Get out.” I slammed the door in his face. After a few seconds of silence, I heard a muffled curse, followed by his retreating footsteps. He was still the same hypocritical coward. Over the next few weeks, I kept hanging out with Jude. I picked him up from campus and met his friends, bringing them gifts they actually liked. The kids quickly warmed up to me, no longer whispering insults behind my back. Instead, they swarmed around me, calling me Helena with pure, unadulterated admiration in their eyes. When Jude mentioned his team was entering a national tech innovation competition, I didn’t hesitate to write a personal check for two hundred thousand dollars. I even pulled a few strings to hire a retired MIT professor to mentor them. One afternoon, I stood outside the campus lab, watching Jude focus intensely on his work. As I admired his profile, a young woman with a high ponytail stepped in front of me. It was Sienna, one of Jude’s teammates. “Ms. Sinclair,” she said, her voice hushed. I figured she wanted a favor, but her opening line caught me off guard. “Why are you forcing Jude to marry you?” I blinked, thoroughly amused. Force him? Anyone with eyes could see Jude was thrilled about the arrangement. If anything, I felt like he had played me into this engagement. “Let’s set the record straight,” I replied calmly. “He volunteered.” Sienna glared at me. “Impossible! You must have blackmailed him! You’re so much older than him. How could he choose you over someone young and beautiful like me?” I couldn’t help but laugh. Kids. Their world was so delightfully simple. “Listen, sweetie,” I said, tilting my head. “I can pave his path to the absolute top of the corporate world. And if I happen to die early, he inherits everything. Aside from your youth, what can you actually offer him?” Her jaw clenched, and her face flushed with anger. I patted her head gently. “At least I had the guts to claim him in public. How about you? If you’ve got so much pride, why don’t you leave Jude’s team and refuse to use my funding?” Sienna stamped her foot. “Don’t get cocky. I will take Jude back from you!” She turned and stormed off, though she conveniently forgot to mention actually leaving the team. I stroked my chin. It seemed Jude was far more popular than I realized. It was time to put the wedding on the fast track. Jude didn’t object. In fact, he was far more enthusiastic than I was. He spent hours researching venues, visiting florists, and studying the meanings behind different flowers. When I asked what theme he preferred, he didn’t even look up from his notes. “The wedding should be all about you, Helena. Whatever makes you happy.” During my gown fitting, his cheeks burned crimson, his eyes practically glued to me. “You look beautiful, Helena.” On the night before the wedding, he cooked a romantic candlelit dinner to celebrate. After a few glasses of wine, my mind grew pleasantly hazy. His eyes shone with a bright intensity as he cradled my face in his hands. “Helena, I’ve been such a good boy. Don’t I deserve a reward?” The rest of the night was a blur. When I woke up the next morning, Jude was gone. I stood in the bridal suite, staring at an anonymous text on my phone, my brow furrowing. He ran away with me, old lady. Enjoy being left at the altar! Eloped? I didn’t buy it. Jude wasn’t like Richard. He was honest, passionate, and wore his heart on his sleeve. He had even convinced his best friends to dress up as his favorite sci-fi characters to perform a surprise dance for me. A boy who cared that much wouldn’t just vanish with another woman. Did he find out something he shouldn’t have during my blackout? I didn’t have time to dwell on it. A Sinclair wedding was a massive public affair, packed with the city’s elite. A little youthful fun on stage was fine, but a canceled ceremony was out of the question. I refused to let our family become the laughingstock of New York. “Tell the coordinator to proceed as planned,” I instructed my assistant. “And pull the security footage. Find out where Jude is.” The wedding march began to play, and the coordinator signaled for the groom to take his place. The massive doors of the chapel slowly swung open. Beneath the spotlight stood a tall, striking figure in a pristine white tuxedo. I breathed a sigh of relief, lifting my gown to walk down the aisle. But as the doors opened fully, the man on stage turned around and smiled at me. He was elegant and composed, but his eyes burned with a dark, obsessive longing. “Hannah, you can’t lie to me.” My smile froze on my face. It was Richard.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “515802”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 A deafening roar tore through the cabin as the plane spiraled out of control, plunging from thirty thousand feet. Amid the chaos and absolute despair, my phone screen suddenly flashed to life. To my disbelief, the incoming video call was from myself, eight years ago. On the screen, a younger, radiant version of me smiled, her eyes sparkling with hope. “Charlie is about to propose to me!” “He promised that no matter how late it gets, he will always come to bring me home. He said he would never make me wait a single minute!” Watching my past self while surrounded by the blood-curdling screams of doomed passengers, I felt a crushing weight in my chest. The words do not marry him remained choked in my throat. For eight years, I had landed three hundred times, and not once did he show up to meet me. Yet, he had gone to the airport three hundred times just to pick up Cynthia, his precious childhood friend. On the screen, my younger self eagerly pressed, “In eight years, Charlie must have completely spoiled me like a princess, right?” I let out a bitter, hollow laugh and cut the connection. The screen reverted to the last text message from Charlie. “Just wait at the airport for another two hours. I will come get you right after I drop Cynthia off.” Staring out the window at the dark, swallowing ocean rushing toward us, I let my tears fall freely onto the glass screen. Eight years, and you finally agreed to pick me up. But Charlie, I am never landing again. The screens at the maritime search and rescue center glowed through the long night. I drifted invisibly at the front of the room, watching the familiar flight number on the monitor flicker from yellow to a lifeless gray. The operators worked in a frenzy, checking and rechecking the passenger manifest. “Hurry! Have we contacted Norah’s family yet?” The heavy sound of Charlie’s footsteps suddenly echoed from the corridor. Seeing the weeping, panicked crowd, he knit his brows in annoyance. On the screen, the flight status had officially updated from Delayed to Signal Lost. Frustrated, he dialed my number. “Norah, what kind of drama are you pulling now?” Floating in mid-air, I looked down at my translucent, spectral body. Then I looked at the milkshake in his hand, which happened to be Cynthia’s favorite flavor. I smiled sadly. He was always like this, even his half-hearted attempts to appease me carried the traces of another woman. I touched my chest, surprised that a ghost could still feel such a dull, aching throb. “Charlie, wait up.” Cynthia, wrapped snugly in Charlie’s designer jacket, jogged in to catch up with him. “I am so sorry. This is all my fault.” She bit her lower lip, her voice trembling as if she were on the verge of tears. “If you had not insisted on driving me back to the city first, Norah would not have had to wait at the airport.” “Do you think she got so angry waiting for me that she deliberately changed her flight to make a point?” Charlie stopped and instinctively pulled her closer to protect her from the bustling crowd. “It has nothing to do with you, Cynthia,” he said, his tone softening instantly. “She is just naturally jealous. I already texted her that I was on my way.” “Now she is playing hard to get by turning off her phone. She is really pushing it this time.” For eight years, it had always been like this. The moment Cynthia shed a single tear, all my genuine hurt was dismissed as childish tantrums. On the rescue center’s main display, the red flight number had turned completely gray. Around us, family members sobbed in agony. Charlie stood in the middle of the room, looking slightly unsettled. An anxious official walked over, clutching a tablet. “Excuse me, are you the family of Ms. Norah?” Charlie nodded quickly. “Yes, I am her fiancé.” He hesitated for a second, then added, “Her phone is off. Why is her flight showing as missing?” The official looked up, meeting his eyes with gravity. “Sir, the aircraft encountered severe turbulence while passing through a thunderstorm. We have confirmed that the plane crashed into the ocean.” The entire hall fell deathly quiet. The annoyance on Charlie’s face froze solid. “Crashed?” he repeated, unable to comprehend. He shook his head and took a deep breath. “Are you kidding me? Would she really go this far and fabricate a plane crash just to get me to apologize?” “I have the right to see her flight records. I am her primary emergency contact.” The official frowned, scrolling through the screen. “Sir, you are not listed as her emergency contact.” “Therefore, we cannot release any details to you without legal proof of relationship.” Charlie’s pupils dilated. “What did you say?” He took a sudden step forward, his voice rising in anger. “I have been her fiancé for eight years! I have always been her emergency contact!” Cynthia peeked out from behind him, timidly tugging at his sleeve. “Charlie, Norah must have been truly furious this time.” She looked around, making sure her voice was just loud enough for the nearby families to hear. “But even if she is mad at me, she should not play with her life like this. We do not even know if she was actually on that plane, and now she is causing all this unnecessary panic.” A mother nearby, who had just lost her daughter, whipped around with bloodshot eyes, glaring at Cynthia. “Are you trying to say she faked being on a crashed plane just to throw a tantrum?” A wave of collective fury rippled through the grieving crowd. Several people closed in, casting accusing glares at Charlie and Cynthia. Charlie instinctively stepped in front of Cynthia to shield her. “Everyone, please calm down. This is not Cynthia’s fault.” He frowned, his voice growing cold and hard. “Norah made the decision to change her flight on her own. She has to take responsibility for her own choices.” Watching him, I found it almost tragic. Before my death was even officially confirmed, he was desperate to absolve Cynthia of any guilt. He would not even offer a simple defense of my character, like mentioning how professional I had always been, or that I would never use my job to throw a tantrum. Static crackled from the radio at the front of the hall. The live feed from the search and rescue team filled the main screen. Out on the dark ocean, a massive spotlight cut through the mist. The official’s expression changed instantly, and he rushed toward the screen. He looked past the crowd, his eyes locking onto Charlie. “The maritime search team has just recovered the first batch of floating debris.” His voice was quiet, yet it carried clearly to every corner of the room. “Is this charred crew luggage tag belonging to Ms. Norah?” Everyone froze. A metal tray, damp and salt-stained from the ocean, was brought into the hall. At the center lay a burnt leather luggage tag. The name Norah was still faintly legible, resting beside a half-charred white rose brooch. Charlie stared blankly at the brooch. It was the very ornament he had pinned onto my uniform during our engagement party eight years ago. “Wait… that is impossible.” He took a step back, his voice cracked. “It cannot be her. She was not wearing that when she left the house.” The gloved officer pulled items from a sealed waterproof bag. “Sir, we retrieved this from her flight bag found floating on the water.” A waterlogged planner was opened, and a stack of small slips of paper fell out onto the table. Charlie bent down and picked one up. It was a receipt from the airport parking garage. On the back, a neat hand had written: Charlie went to pick up Cynthia first again today. I waited at Terminal 2 for three hours. The officer knelt, gathering the scattered slips of paper. There were exactly three hundred of them. On the back of every single receipt, there was a similar note. New Year’s Eve. Flight delayed. Charlie said Cynthia was terrified of the fireworks, so he went to be with her instead. My birthday. Just flew a long haul, landed with a high fever. Charlie was busy organizing a funeral for Cynthia’s pet dog. Promoted to Chief Flight Attendant. Charlie did not show. Cynthia said she cut her finger slicing fruit. Charlie clutched the receipts, his eyes rimmed with red. He stared at the mountain of records scattered on the floor, unable to believe what he was seeing. Three hundred times. Eight years of broken promises and cold abandonment, laid bare beneath his feet. Floating above, I watched the painful, quiet realization cross his face. I had wept while writing the first few notes. By the end, I had felt absolutely nothing. Cynthia’s expression shifted. She stepped forward to wrap her arm around Charlie’s, but he instinctively flinched away, completely unaware of his own movement. “Why would Norah keep track of things like this?” A flicker of panic crossed Cynthia’s eyes, quickly replaced by a pout. “Charlie, has she been harboring a grudge against me all this time?” She lowered her voice, her tone fragile. “She kept score of every single little thing just to force you to apologize later. I had no idea she was so calculating…” Charlie’s shoulders tensed. Looking at the sea of accusations at his feet, his irritation flared up again. “Yeah, she never used to be this petty,” he muttered, crumpling the receipt in his fist. “Maybe one of her colleagues picked up her flight bag by mistake. There is still no proof she was on that plane.” I watched him, a bitter smile gracing my lips. His prejudice against me was so deeply rooted that even evidence of my death could not shake it. Ignoring their bickering, the officer unzipped the innermost compartment of the flight bag and pulled out a numbered brass key. “Mr. Harrington, this is Ms. Norah’s locker key for the airport crew lounge. According to standard procedure, her personal belongings must be inventoried in the presence of her family.” Half an hour later, the airport manager escorted Charlie to the Terminal 3 crew lounge. The locker door clicked open. Charlie reached in and pulled out a small tin box. Inside was a stack of about a dozen letters. None of them had stamps, but they all bore the same title: Termination of Engagement. Charlie’s breath hitched. He slipped the top letter out of its envelope and unfolded it. The paper had yellowed with age, but the handwriting was elegant and clear. Charlie, after I complete this flight, let us call off our engagement. I am tired of waiting for a man who always puts someone else first. The date at the bottom was from eight years ago, the morning after our engagement party. Charlie’s fingers trembled, letting the letter slip to the floor. “She wanted to leave me eight years ago?” he whispered, his eyes vacant. The airport manager pushed up his glasses. “Mr. Harrington, Norah was our most outstanding Purser.” “She had a flawless, complaint-free record for eight consecutive years. She was a professional. She would never compromise her work over a personal spat.” “She only changed her flight because another flight attendant fell suddenly ill, and she volunteered to cover the shift.” Charlie clenched his fists. “She just wrote these to scare me,” he insisted, staring at the letters as if trying to force himself to believe it. “If she really wanted to leave, why did she keep these letters hidden for eight years? She would never actually leave me.” Standing by the door, Cynthia watched Charlie unravel, her fingernails digging deep into her palms. The manager reached into the very back of the locker and pulled out a small piece of cardstock. It was a faded table card from our engagement party. There was a line of writing on the back. The manager read it aloud in a quiet voice: If my eight-years-ago self can hear this, do not accept his proposal. Walk away from Charlie. The room went dead silent. Charlie snatched the card from the manager’s hand. The red ink burned his eyes. If my eight-years-ago self can hear this… He repeated the words, a sudden memory flashing in his mind. Two hours before the crash, he had indeed received a call from my number. But there had been no words, only the terrifying roar of rushing wind and distant weeping. He had been in such a rush to take Cynthia to the hospital for her supposed panic attack that he had snapped, “Stop playing games,” and hung up. He sprinted out of the lounge and back to his car parked outside. Flinging the door open, he grabbed his phone from the passenger seat. He unlocked the screen and opened his photo gallery, searching desperately for a photo of our engagement eight years ago to prove his reality. The moment the photo loaded, Charlie’s eyes widened in sheer terror. The image of me wearing the diamond ring, leaning happily against his shoulder, began to blur at the edges. The pixels were actively erasing themselves before his eyes. He rubbed them in disbelief. A few seconds later, the image snapped back into focus. I was still wearing the engagement dress. But there was no ring on my finger. I stood entirely alone at the entrance of the banquet hall, clutching a bouquet, my expression cold and distant. And Charlie was nowhere to be seen. The timestamp at the bottom of the screen flickered rapidly before locking onto the date: eight years ago, today. “What is happening…” Charlie tapped the screen furiously. “Is this a software glitch? How can a photo change?” Standing just outside the car window, I watched him with utter detachment. The rewrite of reality had finally begun. Cynthia opened the passenger door and slid in, bringing a heavy cloud of perfume with her. She glanced at his screen, her eyes flickering. “Charlie, stop doing this to yourself.” She reached over to cover the screen, her voice soft but venomous. “Norah never really loved you that much anyway.” “Did you forget? On the night of your engagement party eight years ago, the media photographed you helping me into your car.” Charlie whipped his head around to face her. “At the rescue center, you just said Norah changed her flight because she was angry at you!” “I lived with her for eight years! Now you are telling me she stopped loving me eight years ago?” Cynthia unlocked her own phone and held it in front of him. The headline screamed: Harrington Group Heir Abandons Bride at Engagement Party to Escort Childhood Friend to Hospital. Cynthia sighed, but a smug satisfaction lingered in her eyes. “If I had not had that sudden breathing fit, maybe things would not have ended like that.” “Norah always held a grudge against you for choosing me first. How could you forget?” Charlie stared at Cynthia’s self-righteous expression, his breathing turning shallow and fast. Eight years ago, he had left me standing alone in front of hundreds of guests. He had simply said, “Cynthia is having an attack. I will be right back.” I had waited for three hours, only to be greeted by that trending headline. The space around my spectral form began to warp. The timeline was closing its loops. I found myself back in the dressing room behind the banquet hall eight years ago. My younger self had just disconnected that impossible video call from the future. The flush of excitement on her cheeks vanished, replaced by a devastating chill. The heavy wooden door was pushed open. A twenty-two-year-old Charlie walked in, sweat glistening on his forehead. “Norah, I am so sorry. Cynthia is in bad shape.” He fished the velvet box from his pocket and went down on one knee. “Let us finish this. The guests are still waiting outside.” My younger self looked down at him. “If Cynthia calls right now saying she is in pain, would you leave again?” Charlie froze. He parted his lips, trying to explain, “She has panic disorder, she cannot be left alone…” He could not even manage a lie to reassure me. I stared at him for a few seconds and smiled. I unpinned the white rose corsage from my dress and tossed it into the trash can. “Then you do not need to kneel.” I turned around, pushed open the heavy double doors of the banquet hall, and walked out past the stunned stares of the guests. Reality snapped back to the car. Charlie stared at his phone. He realized that it was not just that one photo. Every single couple’s photo from our eight years together was actively disappearing from his digital albums. The tropical beach vacation photos transformed into images of him accompanying Cynthia to an aquarium. The pictures of me celebrating his birthday with him dissolved into shots of him working late alone in his office. “No… this is wrong!” Charlie roared. He shoved Cynthia aside and slammed his foot on the gas. “I am going to the hotel! I need to see the security footage from that night!” Cynthia was thrown back against the passenger seat, her face pale with shock. Half an hour later, Charlie burst into the hotel lobby. He grabbed the manager by his lapels, his eyes wild and bloodshot. “Show me the records from November twelfth, eight years ago! Find the security footage from Norah’s engagement party!” Terrified, the manager scrambled to pull up the files. A few minutes later, he handed a printed ledger to Charlie. “Mr. Harrington, are you sure you have the right date?” the manager whispered. “On that day, Ms. Norah did not accept your proposal. By the time you ran after her, she had already left alone. The engagement was never finalized.” A loud ringing filled Charlie’s ears. He snatched the paper, crumpling it into a tight ball. “Impossible! She loved me, she agreed to marry me!” He gritted his teeth. “We were engaged! We lived together for eight years! Have you all lost your minds?” He bolted out of the hotel and drove straight to our downtown apartment. The moment he pushed the door open, he froze at the entryway. The slippers that had always belonged to me were gone. He strode into the living room. The dried flowers on the coffee table had been replaced by a glass ashtray. The flight plaques hanging on the wall had vanished without a trace. He ran into the walk-in closet and flung open the left wardrobe door. It was completely empty. My uniforms, dresses, and coats had been entirely erased. Charlie slumped against the closet door, staring down at his ring finger. “It is still here… the ring is still here.” He clutched his fist so hard the metal bit into his skin. It was his last saving grace. “As long as the ring exists, I have not lost my mind.” Cynthia rushed through the front door, panting. Seeing him in such a state, a flash of possessiveness masked as worry appeared in her eyes. She stepped forward, unwrapped her scarf, and hung it on the hook that used to hold my winter coat. “Charlie, stop searching.” She wrapped her arms around him from behind, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “I am the one who has been by your side for the last eight years. Have you forgotten?” “I took care of you when you were sick. I brought you meals when you worked late. Norah was never even here. Why are you tormenting yourself over a ghost?” Charlie whipped around, violently shaking off her grip. “Enough! Shut up!” He glared at Cynthia with bloodshot eyes. “Norah existed! She was my fiancée!” Just then, his phone vibrated. It was an urgent alert from the airline, requesting all immediate family members of Flight 79 passengers to gather at headquarters for a briefing. Like a man waking from a nightmare, Charlie grabbed his car keys and bolted out. The atmosphere inside the airline headquarters’ assembly hall was suffocatingly tense. An official stood at the podium holding a printed list. “After forty-eight hours of non-stop search and rescue operations, we regret to inform you that there are no survivors from Flight 79.” The room erupted into heart-wrenching screams and weeping. Charlie stood frozen, feeling the warmth completely drain from his body. He pushed through the grieving crowd and stumbled toward the check-in desk. “I am Norah’s fiancé.” He slammed his palms onto the desk, his knuckles white. “Give me her belongings. I want to take her home for the burial.” The receptionist looked up, verifying the database. A strange expression crossed her face. “I am sorry, Mr. Harrington,” the receptionist said, her tone professional but devastatingly blunt. “You are not listed as an authorized contact for Ms. Norah.” “Under company and legal policies, we cannot release any of her personal items to you.” Charlie froze. “What are you talking about? That is not what you said earlier!” He slammed his fist down. “I am her fiancé! We got engaged eight years ago!” A man wearing glasses sitting nearby turned around to inspect him. “Are you Charlie Harrington?” The man knit his brows, looking thoroughly confused. “Did the grief scramble your memory? I was Norah’s classmate in college.” “She turned you down flat at her engagement party eight years ago. She has lived alone ever since. She never dated you, let alone for eight years.” “Your name was never on her emergency contacts, not even once.” It was as if a bolt of lightning had struck him. He stood paralyzed, the wails and whispers of the hall fading into white noise. He looked down at his right hand, panic seizing him. The heavy band that had sat on his ring finger just minutes ago was gone. His finger was completely bare. “You are lying to me! She loved me! She couldn’t just vanish!”

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My sister loved playing “one of the boys.” She spent her days bossing her “bros” around, making them buy her tampons and even wash her underwear. At their engagement party, Thomas held out the ring to her. She laughed right in front of the room full of guests. “Thomas, are you seriously still doing this?” “I think of you as my bro, and you want to marry me? That is so gross.” Everyone in the hall froze, but she did not seem to care at all. After all, Thomas had been in love with her since they were kids. She assumed that this time, like the countless times before, he would swallow his pride and beg for her forgiveness. But Thomas just stayed silent for a few seconds, then snapped the velvet ring box shut. Then he turned his gaze to me, sitting quietly in the corner. “Amy Newall, will you marry me?” 1 I walked up to the stage. Cindy pulled my arm, whispering, “Amy, you are not well. Do not push yourself.” That old excuse again. But this time, I was not backing down. I let out a soft laugh, shook off her hand, and stood right in front of Thomas. “I will do it.” My dad let out a visible sigh of relief. Cindy’s face completely fell. “Amy, have you lost your mind?” I looked her in the eyes. “Didn’t you say marriage is outdated and suffocating?” “You cannot call it trash and then get mad when someone else cleans it up, can you?” Cindy’s jaw tightened, completely speechless. Thomas, however, smiled. He took the microphone and spoke clearly to the crowd. “Great. The Harrison Group formally chooses Amy Newall.” The spotlights that were supposed to shine on Cindy now fell entirely on me. Cindy stood a few feet away, crossing her arms with a cold sneer. She was not genuinely panicked yet. She thought Thomas was just trying to make her jealous. After all, for years, all she had to do was shrug and say, “Come on, bro, do not be mad,” and Thomas would always run back to her. In the car on the way home, the silence was suffocating. Cindy was the first to break it. “I had no idea, Amy.” “You play the quiet, fragile sister so well, but you sure move fast when it is time to steal something.” I looked out the window at the passing city lights. “Didn’t you say you did not want him?” She choked on her words. I continued, “You told everyone he was your brother. People do not marry their brothers.” “I am just helping you respect the sacred bond of brotherhood. Why are you so upset?” Cindy turned pale. My mother immediately jumped in to defend her. “Amy, stop taking digs at your sister. She was just speaking without thinking tonight.” “Speaking without thinking almost cost us the Harrison Group’s entire investment.” My father frowned. “Amy!” I turned to look at him. “Dad, I am just stating facts.” The car fell silent again. Cindy suddenly smiled, softening her tone. “I did not want to marry him because I refuse to be trapped in a domestic cage.” “But you are different.” “You have been sickly since you were a kid. You cannot handle the high-pressure world of the Harrison family.” “I am only looking out for you.” I was so tired of hearing that. Looking out for me. Is that why she secretly changed my college major application? Is that why she rejected career opportunities on my behalf? Is that why she stole my project proposal and put her own name on it? I pulled my tablet from my bag, unlocked it, and opened a folder. I turned the screen toward them. “Is this what you call looking out for me?” On the screen was a detailed log of every single time my life had been sabotaged since childhood. I swiped through them slowly. The only sound in the car was the heavy breathing of my parents. My mother’s expression grew incredibly tense. “Why on earth are you keeping a record of this?” I looked at her. “Because I realized that without hard evidence, my side of the story is always treated as a lie.” Cindy finally sat up straight. “Do you honestly think I stole your opportunities?” “Didn’t you?” I asked. Her eyes welled with tears. “I shielded you from those things because I was afraid the stress would make you sick!” “Did you ever bother to ask me what I wanted?” She froze. “When did I ever say I did not want to go?” I asked. “When did I ever give you permission to rewrite my life?” “Cindy, stop calling your greed ‘protection.’” My dad glared at me. “We are a family. Do not use such ugly words.” I smiled. “Dad, it is called being clear.” “And it is about time we settled the books in this family.” Cindy gritted her teeth. “So you planned this whole thing tonight.” “But Amy, you are dead wrong. Thomas only wants me.” “He only proposed to you tonight to get under my skin.” I did not bother to reply, but deep down, I was absolutely certain. This time, I was going to win. 2 The next day, the joint press release from the Harrison Group and the Newall Group went viral. In the official photo, I stood next to Thomas, holding the signed contract. The comment section went wild. Some people loved the drama of a last-minute bride swap in a high-profile merger. Others asked if Cindy had run away from her own wedding. And someone even turned her “who marries their bro” quote into a viral clip, plastered with laughing emojis. Cindy stayed locked in her room. But she was highly active on social media. “Some people really love picking up the scraps.” “Taking a joke way too seriously.” “Just because bros are having a fight does not mean an outsider gets to cut the line.” I ignored it all. That afternoon, Thomas invited me to his office to discuss the project. When I walked in, he was reviewing the risk assessment part of the proposal I had brought the night before. He flipped to the page and looked up at me. “Did you write this part?” “Yes.” “Cindy showed me a very similar version a while ago.” I paused. He added flatly, “But she could not explain any of the data when I asked.” I did not know whether to laugh or feel bitter. So, it was not that no one noticed. It was just that no one had ever called her out before. Thomas closed the folder. “Amy, there is something we need to make clear before we go any further.” I looked at him. “Go ahead.” “I used to love Cindy.” He was brutally honest. “It was not a casual crush like the rumors say. I genuinely wanted a future with her.” My fingers tightened slightly around my purse. He continued, “And I let her get away with a lot because I thought she was just afraid of commitment.” “But last night, she used my family and our business partners as props to prove how edgy and different she is.” “I am not playing her games anymore.” The office was completely quiet. “Are you telling me this because you want me to step down?” I asked. “No.” Thomas looked at me. “I’m telling you this so you know you are not walking into a clean, simple relationship.” “If that bothers you, you can walk away right now.” I was silent for a moment. “Thomas, I did not sign that contract because I am in love with you either.” “I did it because I want my name, my career, and my rightful place.” “I do not care who you loved in the past.” “But from this moment on, if I am going to be your fiancée, I expect you to maintain the boundaries of a fiancé.” A flash of surprise crossed his eyes. Then, he smiled. “Deal.” He pushed another document toward me. “Let’s put those boundaries in writing.” One clause stood out clearly: During the engagement, both parties shall maintain a united public front. Neither party shall engage in flirtatious behavior with third parties or tolerate ambiguous relationships that could damage the partnership. I signed it. Thomas signed it right after. As the pen left the paper, I found it almost funny. Other couples rely on vows. We rely on legally binding clauses. But clauses are better. At least when they are written down, nobody can pretend they forgot. That evening, Cindy crashed a gathering with Thomas’s friends. Wearing a black leather motorcycle jacket, she walked in and tried to slide into the seat right next to Thomas, just like she always did. But I had already placed my designer bag on that seat. “Cindy, the boys’ table is over there,” I said, pointing to the other side of the room. That table was packed with the guys from their social circle. One of them laughed. “Hey, Cindy! Come on over, the real bro table is here!” Cindy’s face stiffened. “Amy, do not be childish.” I kept my expression perfectly serious. “You said it yourself. You and Thomas are just bros.” “Bros sit at the bro table. What is the issue?” She looked at Thomas. Her eyes held that familiar, practiced look of wounded innocence. In the past, that look had worked every single time. But Thomas did not even look up. He simply handed me the menu. “What do you feel like eating?” Cindy stood frozen for what felt like an eternity before finally stomping over to the guys’ table. I pulled out my phone and created a group chat. Group name: Thomas’s Bro-Zone Management. I added Cindy and every guy in the room. “Since you are all bros, please post in this group if anyone gets drunk, has car trouble, or needs to vent.” “Let’s avoid calling my fiancé individually in the middle of the night.” The entire room went dead silent. Cindy stared at me across the table. “Don’t you think you are overstepping?” Thomas set his glass down. “It is not overstepping. It is called boundaries.” He looked directly at Cindy. “From now on, use the group chat if you need something.” Cindy’s eyes immediately welled with tears. “Thomas, seriously? You are doing this to me?” His voice was completely flat. “Yes.” “I let things slide in the past, which gave you the wrong impression. I won’t make that mistake again.” At that moment, the proud, untouchable facade Cindy had built for herself finally cracked. But she still did not believe it. She convinced herself that Thomas was just putting on a show. She thought that if she just pushed a little harder, he would eventually come crawling back. 3 The wedding planning meeting was held at the Harrison headquarters. Cindy arrived even earlier than I did. She was sitting on Thomas’s left, her legs crossed, acting as if she still owned the place. Thomas walked into the conference room and took one look at her. “Cindy, that seat is reserved for my fiancée.” Her face flushed. I walked over and sat down. The wedding planning agency began going through the schedule. Press conference, media Q&A, project signing, engagement ceremony, family dinner. The coordinator asked for the list of bridesmaids and groomsmen. Cindy suddenly spoke up. “I am not doing the bridesmaid thing.” She leaned back in her chair, her tone lazy and dismissive. “I do not do dresses, and I do not care for girly traditions.” “Just put me in Thomas’s groomsmen lineup.” I nodded. “Sure, that works.” She blinked, caught off guard. I turned to the coordinator. “Put Cindy in the groomsmen lineup.” “Make her outfit a black tailored suit.” “She stands with the guys.” “And reserve three minutes for her speech. The topic is: Wishing My Bro a Happy Engagement.” Someone in the room muffled a laugh. Cindy glared at me. “Amy, are you intentionally trying to humiliate me?” I raised my eyes to meet hers. “Didn’t you choose the bro label yourself?” She gritted her teeth. “I am not like them.” “How so?” She could not answer. I continued, “You are a member of the bride’s family, so you could sit in the family section.” “Or you can stand with the groomsmen as his bro.” “What exact identity do you want to have next to Thomas?” The conference room fell into a dead silence. My mother quickly spoke up. “Amy, do not talk to your sister like that. She is just being her usual candid self.” Thomas flipped through the itinerary and said coolly, “Contracts and schedules do not care about being candid. They only care about designated roles.” Cindy’s face turned white. This was what she feared most. Because once her role was clearly defined, she could no longer use the bro excuse to demand romantic ambiguity, nor could she use her status as a woman to demand special treatment. After the meeting, she cornered me in the hallway. “Amy, do you actually think you have won?” I looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “Have I not?” She sneered. “Do you have any idea how long Thomas has loved me?” “In high school, I mentioned a stomach ache once, and he ran through a thunderstorm to bring me medicine.” “In college, when I got into an argument with someone, he literally caught the next flight back from abroad just to stand by me.” “That motorcycle I rode for my birthday? He spent six months on a waiting list just to buy it for me.” Her voice grew more confident. “He is just angry right now.” “He is mad that I would not say yes, so he is using you to hurt me.” “Do not flatter yourself.” I did not say a word. Thinking she had finally intimidated me, she stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Believe it or not, all it takes is for me to say I regret it, and he will come running back to me in a heartbeat.” I looked at her, and suddenly, I could not help but laugh. “Cindy.” “Why do you assume people will wait around in the exact same spot forever?” Her expression darkened. “Because he loves me.” Just then, Thomas walked out of the conference room. Cindy’s eyes instantly welled with tears. “Thomas, I really did not mean it that way at the party.” “I was just overwhelmed when you suddenly proposed to her.” “Stop using Amy to get back at me, please?” She offered the apology casually, with the same easy confidence she had used to pacify him a hundred times before. But Thomas did not move. “Cindy,” he said. “I am not using anyone to get back at you.” “Amy is my wife.” Cindy froze. “Your wife?” She looked at me, letting out a sharp laugh as if she had just heard the most ridiculous joke. “Your engagement ceremony has not even happened. Who are you trying to fool?” I reached into my designer bag, pulled out two official marriage certificates, and held them up in front of her. The photos showed Thomas and me sitting side-by-side, smiling. The red official seal was perfectly clear. The date of registration was this morning. “Cindy, if you truly believe he is still in love with you,” I said calmly, “why don’t you try convincing him to divorce me first?”

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