Category: English

1 Right after my kidney transplant. My supposedly perfect father stood by my bed with bloodshot eyes, claiming he had three earth-shattering secrets to tell me. I figured it was just some bad investments he wanted me to bail him out of. Instead, he delivered a crushing blow. “Fiona, you aren’t our biological daughter. Sabrina is.” Seeing my lack of a reaction, he pushed harder. “You’ve been living in luxury on borrowed time. It’s time to give the Lockhart Group inheritance back to her.” He didn’t care at all that I had just come out of major surgery and couldn’t handle any stress. He even had the audacity to play the saint. “You’ve always been a good, dutiful daughter. You wouldn’t want to watch your mother die on the operating table, would you?” Looking at his smug, confident face, I just wanted to laugh. “Is that it?” The kidney transplant was over. My mother was still unconscious, but I had just woken up. “Fiona, there are three secrets I need to tell you.” I stared at my father, Marcus, a man with a spotless reputation as the perfect dad. I figured he had just botched an investment and needed me to clean up his mess. “Go ahead,” I said. His eyes welled with tears, his voice cracking with emotion. “You aren’t our biological child.” I frowned slightly. “During the transplant compatibility tests, I noticed your blood type didn’t match ours. Your mother and I are both type O, but you’re type A.” “I was completely blindsided. I quietly ran a DNA test, and the results confirmed it. You aren’t ours.” I kept quiet, watching his tears fall. “The truth is, Sabrina is our real daughter. Helena and I… we are her biological parents.” Sabrina? The girl our family had been sponsoring for twenty years? “Sabrina grew up in a run-down foster home, suffering so much. She’s dreamed of having a real family her whole life, of having parents who cherish her.” “Now that we’ve finally found her, I can’t let her suffer any longer.” “Fiona, I know this is a massive shock, but blood ties can’t be denied.” He buried his face in his hands, weeping as if he were the victim of some tragic twist of fate. “Marcus,” I said, my voice flat, “I gave Mom a kidney. I didn’t lose my brain.” He froze, looking up at my calm expression. “DNA results don’t come back that fast. You knew Sabrina was your daughter long before today.” “No matter when you told me this, I still would have given Mom my kidney.” “So why did you have to wait until the exact moment my surgery was finished?” Lying on the hospital bed, I looked at his tear-stained face. “You really are cold-blooded.” He scrambled to explain. “No! That’s not it! I love you, of course I do. It’s just that your mother’s health has always been fragile, and the doctors said we couldn’t stress her before the surgery…” Just then, the door burst open, and Sabrina stepped in. “Fiona, don’t talk to Dad like that!” With teary, pathetic eyes, she stood close to my bed. “He was only doing what was best for you and Mom…” When I looked at her, she lowered her head and sobbed. “I’m so sorry, Fiona. I didn’t mean to steal your parents.” “I honestly had no idea I had real parents out there.” She spoke in a trembling voice, tears spilling over her cheeks. “Back in the foster home, I had to fight just to get a warm meal. I didn’t even have a winter coat. My hands were covered in chilblains.” “I dreamed of having a home. Of having parents who loved me.” “Now, heaven has finally shown mercy and brought me back to them.” She wiped her tears, looking at me like a wounded puppy. “Fiona, I finally have a mom and dad… You won’t throw me out, will you?” “We can still be a family, right?” Her voice grew softer, desperate and fragile. Marcus wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders, looking at me with disapproval. “Fiona, Sabrina has had a hard life. Just let her have this.” “You’ve had everything since you were a child. She had nothing.” “She just wants her real parents back. You wouldn’t deny her that, would you?” I looked at his hand resting on Sabrina’s shoulder. “So, what is it you actually want me to do?” 2 Marcus clearly hadn’t expected me to cut straight to the point. Sabrina lowered her head, biting her lip in silence. Marcus wiped away his meager tears, and his tone suddenly went cold. “Since you’ve already guessed, I won’t beat around the bush.” He stood up straight, looking down at me. “There is something you must do.” “You aren’t our biological child, which means the inheritance rights to the Lockhart Group belong to Sabrina. You need to sign them over.” Lying on the hospital bed, the surgical incision in my side throbbed with a dull ache. But I didn’t let my anger show. I just stared at him. “Marcus, have you forgotten?” “My grandfather was the one who designated me as the sole heir to the Lockhart Group.” “If there is to be any change, we should wait until Mom wakes up, go to the family estate, and let Grandfather handle it.” Marcus snapped, “Absolutely not!” “Your grandfather is old and in poor health. We shouldn’t trouble him with such minor family matters.” “We can settle this quietly among ourselves.” Handing over a multi-billion dollar conglomerate is a minor family matter? Sabrina finally looked up, her face pale. “Fiona…” “I know this is a lot to take in. I understand if you can’t accept it right away.” “But blood is blood. You can’t change facts.” “I am their biological daughter. That is the truth.” The tears began to flow again. “I’m not trying to fight you for anything. I just think fate is finally being fair.” “You’ve enjoyed twenty-four years of being a pampered heiress. Luxury cars, mansions, private schools, bodyguards following your every step. Your biggest worry was probably which diamonds to wear.” She wiped her eyes, her voice cracking. “But me? I grew up in a foster home, wearing rags, sleeping in a cramped, drafty bed, with chilblains all over my hands in the winter.” “Why did you get to live in luxury from the moment you were born, while I had to beg for a scrap of affection?” Her voice grew louder, venting years of repressed bitterness. “Now I just want what was always meant to be mine. Are you really going to deny me that?” “Fiona, you are incredibly selfish!” Marcus, overwhelmed with pity, pulled her into a tight hug. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. Dad’s here.” He glared at me. “Fiona, look at what you’ve done!” “Do you have any idea how much Sabrina has suffered? You can’t even begin to imagine!” “You’ve stolen her life for twenty-four years. Returning her inheritance is only right! What is there to hesitate about?” I watched their touching display of fatherly love. A slow smile crept onto my lips. “Marcus, you are nothing but a son-in-law who married into the Lockhart family.” “You have absolutely no right to interfere with the company’s succession.” 3 His face instantly flushed a deep, angry crimson. “I am your father! How dare you speak to me like that!” “Am I wrong?” I cut him off. “When you married into this family, you signed a strict prenuptial agreement. You were allowed to manage daily operations, but you have zero decision-making power.” “The succession has always been entirely up to Grandfather and Mom.” “You don’t get a say.” Marcus shook with rage, pointing a finger at me, unable to squeeze out a single word. Seeing this, Sabrina quickly grabbed his arm to placate him. “Dad, please don’t be angry. Fiona is just in shock. She’ll come around.” She turned back to me, her eyes glistening. “Fiona, I know you’re the designated heir and you’re used to everyone catering to your every whim.” “But this isn’t something you can just control.” “I am their real daughter, and nothing changes that. You can’t keep holding onto things that don’t belong to you.” She turned her head away, looking like a delicate, tragic heroine. “Of course, if you really refuse, I won’t force you.” “I’ll just accept that I wasn’t meant to be happy.” “I’ve survived twenty-four years in a foster home. I can handle whatever comes next.” She wept as if her heart were breaking. Marcus’s eyes burned with indignation. “Fiona!” he barked. “Look at how graceful and understanding Sabrina is! Now look at you!” “You stole her life, and you can’t even offer her a single word of blessing!” “Do you even deserve to carry the Lockhart name?” He was practically spitting in my face. I lay there, the surgical wound in my side throbbing from the sudden spike of tension. But I didn’t flinch. I kept my eyes locked on Marcus. “I said, we wait until Mom wakes up. She will make the decision.” Marcus’s face darkened. He stared at me for a long moment, then slowly, a sinister smile spread across his face. “Do you honestly think… your mother is going to wake up?” My fingers tightened around the bedsheets. “What do you mean?” Just then, the door was thrown open. A nurse rushed in, her face entirely pale. “Miss Lockhart, your mother is experiencing severe transplant rejection! She’s in critical condition!” “We need a family member to sign the consent form immediately for emergency resuscitation!” I scrambled to sit up, my vision blurring. “I’ll sign! Hand it to me!” “Wait.” Marcus stepped forward, physically blocking the nurse. He looked back at me, his smile widening. “I forgot to tell you.” “As her legal husband, only my signature can authorize the hospital to proceed.” “If I choose not to sign… your mother dies.” 4 My blood ran cold. “Are you insane? She’s been your wife for twenty-five years!” “Twenty-five years of playing the obedient husband, putting up with her spoiled tantrums, and kissing up to her and that old man!” “I am sick of it!” Marcus whipped out a document and threw it onto my bed. “Sign this.” I looked down. It was a Voluntary Relinquishment of Inheritance Rights. Black ink on white paper. Clear and absolute. “Sign it and leave your thumbprint, and I’ll authorize her surgery. Otherwise, you can watch her die.” I glared at him. “You bought off the board of directors, didn’t you?” He let out a smug chuckle. “Why do you think I’ve been playing the loyal servant all these years?” “Those greedy old fools on the board have been in my pocket for a long time.” “If you don’t sign, your mother dies. When she’s gone, the board will pressure your grandfather. That old traditionalist will never let a massive conglomerate fall to an outsider like you.” He leaned down, his voice dripping with malice. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll sign.” “You love your mother so much, don’t you?” Marcus shoved a pen into my hand. “She spent millions on you. She sent you to the best schools, gave you the finest life.” “Now it’s time to pay her back. Surely you aren’t so heartless as to let her die?” I stared at the document, the pain in my side flaring up. My voice was iron. “You planned this all along.” “You knew Sabrina was your daughter. You knew I was adopted. But you waited for the exact moment my mother was unconscious after surgery.” “You wanted to trap me, force me to give up the inheritance, and install Sabrina as the heir. Once Grandfather passes away, you can finally put your own name on the family legacy and take over everything.” Marcus looked down at me with mock pity. “And what are you going to do about it?” “In the end, I’m the one who wins.” The nurse stood by the door, sweating profusely. “Miss Lockhart, your mother is slipping away! We can’t wait…” “What’s the rush?” Marcus cut her off coldly. “We’re waiting for my daughter to sign.” He turned back to me. “Fiona, you wouldn’t want the world to know you let your mother die, would you?” Sabrina looked at me with a glint of smug satisfaction beneath her mask of pity. To her, I was a fallen princess. My stepfather had betrayed me, my mother was on her deathbed, and my gilded life was finally over. She was about to become the new queen of the Lockhart empire, and out of sheer generosity, she might spare me a little pity once she had the money. I let out a slow sigh. “Marcus, twenty-four years, and you haven’t changed a bit.” “With such cheap tricks, it’s no wonder you never made anything of yourself.”

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1 I was born with a tragic, inescapable flaw: I desperately craved a mother’s love. But in my old life, every time I offered my foster mother my beating heart, she rewarded me with a slap across the face. Just as I was agonizing over how to finally win her approval, a piece of paper changed my entire universe. I had been groveling to the wrong woman my whole life. I was actually the lost biological daughter of the wealthiest family in the state. Without a second of hesitation, I climbed into the back of the Crawford family’s Rolls-Royce. The moment I stepped through the grand mahogany doors of the estate, the girl who had stolen my life grabbed my hands. Anna, the fake heiress, looked at me with perfectly welling tears. “Sister, if the rest of the family doesn’t warm up to you right away, please don’t be sad.” I didn’t even hear her. I was staring blankly at the woman standing beside her, my heart hammering so violently against my ribs I could barely breathe. Are you telling me this woman—this elegant, commanding, breathtakingly powerful woman—is my new mother? Anna was still putting on her tearful performance. “You finally have a home now, but my parents’ love is all I have left in this world. Please don’t take that away from me.” Hearing the word parents, I finally pulled my eyes away from Victoria Crawford and gave Anna a slow, chilling smile. Keep dreaming, sweetheart. Anna instinctively took a half-step back. That sudden, eerie smile sent a shiver straight down her spine. But she quickly straightened her posture. She was convinced a backwoods nobody like me could never threaten her reign. My eldest brother, Preston, immediately caught Anna’s arm to steady her. “What are you talking about, Anna? Even if we don’t share blood, you are still a Crawford. We are family.” My second brother, Declan, stepped squarely in front of her, shielding her from me. “The hospital mix-up wasn’t your fault. You’re a victim in this too. We promise we won’t let anyone walk all over you.” Those words were aimed directly at me. Anna peeked at me from behind Declan’s broad shoulders. She subtly lifted the hem of her designer silk dress, showing off a blinding diamond tennis bracelet. “Sister, it must have taken you a whole day and night to drive here from the trailer park. You must be exhausted.” I didn’t even register her pathetic flex. I didn’t care about the crystal chandeliers, the bespoke suits, or the uniformed staff lining the foyer. I had been in this house for ten minutes, and for nine of those minutes, my eyes had been superglued to the matriarch of the family. My gaze was so intense that Victoria finally had to look back at me. She cleared her throat, clearly unsure of how to navigate this reunion with a daughter she hadn’t seen in eighteen years. “Your name is Serena, right?” The moment she said my name, my eyes burned with absolute adoration. Victoria actually looked a bit flustered under the weight of my worship. Declan raised his voice, his tone sharp. “Serena, Anna is talking to you. Are you deaf?” I mentally muted every single person in the room except for her. I walked straight up to Victoria and gently, carefully, tugged at the edge of her tailored blazer. “Mom?” My voice trembled. I was practically vibrating with excitement. Anna’s expression cracked. She quickly jogged over and linked her arm affectionately through Victoria’s other side. “Mom, let’s go show my sister her new room!” Her voice was a little too desperate, a little too rushed. My gaze finally shifted. I looked away from my mother and slowly dragged my eyes over to Anna. Anna’s hand twitched. She forced a painfully stiff smile. “Everything happened so fast, we didn’t have time to redecorate. You’ll have to make do with one of the guest rooms for now.” I shook my head. Anna immediately adopted a look of tragic resignation. “I knew it. If you insist on taking my bedroom, I’ll pack my things…” Declan scoffed, glaring at me. “Anna, why are you always so nice? She just walked through the door and she’s already trying to steal your room?” They were a remarkably annoying background noise. I kept my eyes locked on Victoria and spoke my very first full sentence since arriving. “Mom, which room is yours?” Victoria blinked in surprise and pointed up the grand sweeping staircase toward the third-floor master suite. I didn’t miss a beat. “Then I want to live in the room right next to yours.” “Serena, that room is just a storage closet for old furniture,” Victoria said softly. “I don’t care. I just want to be as close to you as possible.” Victoria’s gaze melted instantly. The awkwardness vanished, replaced by an overwhelming, protective warmth. “I’ll have the contractors here first thing tomorrow morning. We’ll knock down the walls and merge two rooms together to make you a proper suite.” Anna looked like she had been struck by lightning. She stared at me, grinding her teeth so hard her jaw trembled. What the hell kind of game was this girl playing?! Declan was equally stunned. “Mom, we haven’t done construction on the estate in years. You’re going to tear up the third floor just because she…” Victoria raised a hand, silencing him immediately. “The decision is final. Now, everyone sit down. It’s time for dinner.” I practically glued myself to the chair right next to my mother. Every time I looked up, I caught Anna shooting daggers at me from across the table. I casually scooted my chair an inch closer to Victoria. Anna’s grip on her silverware tightened. Jealous that I get to sit next to my own mother? I hid a smirk behind my water glass. Human nature is so predictable. A small porcelain bowl of rich lobster bisque was placed in front of everyone at the table. Except for me. Anna forced a sweet, highly artificial smile. “Oh no. The kitchen staff must have forgotten you were moving in today. They didn’t prepare a portion for you.” “These are all my absolute favorite dishes. I hope your stomach can handle such rich food. If you don’t mind, you can have my soup.” She made a grand show of pushing her porcelain bowl across the table toward me. Before it even made it halfway, Preston stopped it with his hand. “It’s just soup. If the kitchen forgot, they can make it up to her next time. You don’t need to give up your food for her.” Declan nodded in agreement, though his eyes were locked on me. “Look at this feast. She won’t starve. There’s no need for her to steal what’s yours.” Anna tilted her head, her smile turning triumphant. I simply lowered my gaze, adopting the picture of absolute, meek obedience. “It’s okay. I have a small appetite anyway. A few bites of bread will be plenty.” Anna froze. That was not the reaction she wanted. “Find the head chef and ask him how a mistake this massive happened. Everyone knew Serena was coming home today.” Victoria slammed her fork down. She looked at Anna. “Keep your food, Anna. We don’t need to perform charity at our own dining table.” Victoria then took her own untouched bowl of lobster bisque and placed it gently in front of me. “Here, sweetheart. Have mine.” Seeing my wide, slightly anxious eyes, her voice softened entirely. “Don’t overthink it. In this house, my love isn’t a pie to be sliced unequally. I don’t play favorites.” I nodded obediently, wrapping my hands around the warm bowl and taking tiny, delicate sips. Anna’s smile completely collapsed. She stared at me, her eyes practically burning holes through my skull. But I was bulletproof. I couldn’t care less if these people hated my guts. Back in my old life, my foster mother used to pile all the best meat onto her biological son’s plate and leave me with scraps. One day, I got so fed up I dumped a lethal dose of ghost pepper hot sauce into my foster brother’s macaroni. My foster mother was in such a panic, running around getting him milk and ice water, that she didn’t even bother to yell at me. It used to break my heart. Thank God I finally have a beautiful, fiercely protective mother of my own. The next morning, three delivery vans from high-end boutiques pulled up to the estate. One mountain of luxury boxes for me. One mountain for Anna. Declan patted Anna on the shoulder. “See? I told you there was nothing to worry about. Mom still loves you. She made sure you got a share of everything.” Anna blinked her doe eyes, looking pitiful. “But all of sister’s things are from the new season’s exclusive collection. She got the exact Birkin I’ve been on the waitlist for.” I lazily sifted through the sea of designer dresses and leather bags. I didn’t really care about any of it. But seeing Anna’s eyes turn red with envy made the whole thing wildly entertaining. Declan crossed his arms, stepping up as her knight in shining armor. “Mom is being completely unfair. Why does she get the absolute best picks?” “How is Anna supposed to feel? What are the maids going to think?” Preston stayed quiet for a moment before walking over to me. “You don’t even know the value of these brands anyway. Let Anna pick the ones she wants first.” I tilted my head, looking up at him. “But Mom specifically told the stylists to let me choose whatever I liked.” Preston stood in front of me like a brick wall. “If Mom can’t keep things fair, then I’ll level the playing field for her.” Anna hid behind his broad back, peering at me with a victorious glint in her eye. Preston’s gaze grew darker. “Anna is sensitive. Since she calls you her older sister, you need to act like one and yield to her.” Before I could even respond, he ordered the boutique staff to move the most exclusive, limited-edition pieces over to Anna’s pile. She casually flipped through the silk garments, pretending to be nonchalant. “Sister, I know I’m taking a lot of the good ones. You’re not mad, are you?” She said it just to twist the knife. She wanted to see me lose my temper. I yawned softly. “I’m not mad at all.” “You can have every single piece if you want.” “But you’re going to have to trade something else for it.” I unlocked my phone and tapped into the pinned chat contact labeled “Mom.” There are millions of designer bags in the world. But there is only one Victoria Crawford. If Anna wanted the bags, fine. I was playing a completely different game. My fingers danced across the screen. [I got all the presents! I love them so much. When are you coming back from your business trip, Mom? I miss you already.] A morning and evening text check-in had become my daily routine. Victoria was a titan of industry. She rarely replied. But even if she just sent back a single “Okay,” I would stare at the screen and read it a hundred times. Seeing me completely absorbed in my phone, Anna casually leaned closer, trying to spy on my screen. “Sister, you don’t really have any friends here. Who are you texting so obsessively all day?” She rolled her eyes, her tone dripping with venom. “When we brought you back, that foster mother of yours demanded a massive payout. You need to remember your place in this family. Don’t tell me you’re secretly funneling our money back to that trashy woman.” I finally looked up at her. The corners of my mouth curled into a slow, mocking smirk. Anna thought she had me figured out. “I get it. You figured out that Mom holds the purse strings, so you’re kissing up to her. It’s embarrassing.” My phone buzzed in my hand. I looked down. It was Victoria. This time, it wasn’t a short, formal reply. She had actually learned how to save and send a little cartoon cat sticker blowing a kiss. Anna was still running her mouth, her chin raised in absolute arrogance. “You can stop daydreaming. Mom is so busy running the empire she barely has time to sleep. She doesn’t have a second to waste on someone like you.” “Is that so?” I locked my phone and placed it face down on the table. I just looked at her, completely amused by her stupidity. A month flew by. Living in the Crawford estate was a dream. The only downside was that my mother was constantly traveling for board meetings and acquisitions. I rarely got to see her in person. But my daily text updates never stopped. At night, when I knew she was back in her hotel room, I would shamelessly beg her for a quick phone call. Sometimes she picked up. Sometimes it went to voicemail. I was always patient. Today, as I was walking out of my room, I was ambushed again. It was Anna. She dragged out her syllables, sounding like a detective who had just cracked a massive case. “Sister, are you going to make another secret phone call?” I tried to step around her. She was a waste of oxygen. Anna’s eyes darted to the phone in my hand, dropping the sweet facade entirely. “Serena, you are an outsider in this house. Everyone is just tolerating you out of pity.” “Everything in this family belongs to me. It always has.” I stared at her with a blank, deadpan expression. I had my mother’s love. I was basically sitting on a throne of gold. What kind of delusional nonsense was she spewing? I rolled my eyes so hard it physically hurt. “I am the biological daughter. You are a counterfeit.” “The only person in this house who has absolutely nothing is you.” Anna choked on her own breath. She desperately searched my face for a hint of insecurity or fear. She found absolutely nothing. Swallowing her rage, she leaned in close. “Let me tell you a little secret.” “My eighteenth birthday is in two days. Mom is officially gifting me ten percent of the company shares as my coming-of-age present.” I laughed out loud. “That’s crazy. It’s your birthday, so why are you begging my mother for a present?” That single, calm sentence completely shattered the last remnants of Anna’s sanity. “Stop acting like she actually gives a damn about you—” Before she could finish, the heavy thud of the front doors opening echoed from the first floor. Anna’s eyes flashed with calculation. She backed up against the heavy oak railing of the third-floor balcony, leaning her upper body dangerously far over the edge. “Sister, even if the family doesn’t like you, there’s no need to take your anger out on me!” she screamed. “Anna!” Two panicked voices shouted in unison from the stairs. Preston and Declan sprinted up the marble steps like their lives depended on it. Without a single question, Preston shoved me violently out of the way. “What the hell are you doing to her?!” He shoved me with a terrifying amount of force. I lost my footing and crashed hard into the sharp edge of a mahogany console table. “It’s all my fault! I lost my balance, please don’t blame my sister…” Anna sobbed beautifully, making absolutely sure to frame me while playing the saint. Declan glared at me with pure disgust. “I cannot believe how vicious you are!” “Anna already feels guilty for taking your place, and you try to push her over a balcony? If we knew you were this deranged, we never would have brought you back from the gutter!” I pressed a hand against my ribs. A dull, throbbing pain radiated through my side. Preston stepped toward me, casting a massive shadow, his voice cold and authoritative. “Apologize to her right now.” My vision blurred slightly from the pain. Preston rubbed his temples, his tone dropping even lower. “I know you resent Anna.” “But you crossed a line today. You made a mistake, and you are going to own up to it. Apologize.” My two older brothers stood like heavily armed guards in front of Anna. Biologically, we shared the same blood. But in their eyes, Anna was the only sister they had. The physical pain in my side was quickly swallowed by a freezing, numbing realization. It didn’t matter. None of these people mattered. Combined, they weren’t worth a single strand of my mother’s hair. I didn’t need to waste my emotional energy on them. Declan scoffed, looking down his nose at me. “Look at her. Zero class. Zero manners.” “Just like uneducated trash. Raised by a rat, acts like a rat.” That crossed a line. The temperature in my eyes plummeted to absolute zero. “I think you need to go to a clinic and get a DNA test.” Declan looked at me in shock. I pointed directly at the weeping girl trembling behind him. “You better run a full panel. Because the way you’re acting, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re a delusional counterfeit just like her.” “Watch your damn mouth!” Declan roared, stepping forward. I took a step back, walked into my bedroom, and slammed the heavy door right in their faces. Instantly, fists began pounding fiercely against the wood. The muffled screaming leaked through the walls. “You only have the guts to act like a psychopath because Mom is out of town!” “Anna has been nothing but kind to you! Are you trying to drive her to suicide?!” “When Mom gets back, I am telling her exactly what kind of monster you really are! Let’s see how long you last here!” I leaned against the door, slowly sliding down until I was sitting on the floor. I pulled my phone out of my pocket. If someone was going to tell my mother about this, it was going to be me. I hit speed dial. The line connected on the second ring. When we first met, my mother’s tone on the phone was always polite, a little distant, full of careful guilt. Now, she was entirely used to my clingy, constant need for attention. Before Victoria could even say hello, the violent pounding and the muffled curses from the hallway echoed through the speaker. Her breath hitched. The authority returned to her voice instantly. “Serena, what is going on over there?” “They said… they said I’m uneducated trash. They said nobody in this family will ever actually love me.” “If you hate me too, Mom, then I can just pack my bags and leave…” My voice shook perfectly. Three parts genuine sadness, seven parts pure manipulation. I had just watched Anna deliver an Oscar-worthy performance. I was a fast learner. Victoria didn’t erupt into anger. Instead, her voice turned dangerously quiet and serious. “I hear you, sweetheart. Stay in your room. I will deal with this the second I get home.” A rush of pure, sugary adrenaline hit my bloodstream. But my celebration was cut short. I heard Victoria let out a heavy, conflicted sigh. “Anna is a good girl at heart. We raised her for eighteen years. We’ve always viewed her as our own flesh and blood.” “I really just want all of my children to get along.” I lowered my eyes. I responded with a soft, incredibly gentle voice. “Of course, Mom.” “Whatever you want.” If they stop acting like rabid dogs, I can play nice. Click. The lock on my bedroom door was suddenly picked from the outside. The handle turned, and the door was thrown open. Anna saw the phone pressed to my ear, and her eyes lit up like fireworks. She practically lunged at me, grabbing my wrist, staring at the screen that clearly read “Mom.” “I knew it! Look! I told you!” she screamed over her shoulder to Preston and Declan. “Every time Mom leaves for a business trip, she calls that trashy foster mother to beg for comfort!” The grip on my wrist was so tight it left red crescent moon indentations in my skin. Anna stared down at me, overflowing with vindictive glee. “Sister, if you miss your precious foster mommy so much, why don’t you just go back to the trailer park? Why are you still leeching off us?” Preston stood in the doorway, his arms crossed, looking at me with pure disgust. A flicker of dark amusement flashed across my eyes. I spoke calmly. “Who said I was talking to my foster mother?” Declan clicked his tongue. “Look at her, caught red-handed and still lying through her teeth.” Anna’s smile widened into something truly ugly. “You really don’t know anything about this family, do you? When Mom is on a business trip, she turns off her personal phone. She only answers the corporate line.” “Besides that gold-digging woman who raised you, who else are you pathetically calling ‘Mom’?” “Serena, you are an ungrateful, bloodsucking parasite.” I just sat on the floor, staring up at her, my expression completely serene. Anna looked at my face, and a sudden, violent spike of panic hit her chest. A second later, from the speaker of the phone tightly clutched in my hand, a voice she knew better than her own echoed into the silent room. “Anna. Who exactly are you calling a parasite?” All the blood instantly drained from Anna’s face.

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1 Three years of marriage, and I finally figured it out. Every single way my husband showed his love for me was something Suzie taught him. The flowers I liked? Suzie told him. The foods I couldn’t eat? Suzie reminded him. Even the restaurant for our very first date was booked by Suzie. He knew me only because Suzie knew me. He loved me only because Suzie didn’t love him. Last month, Suzie got a divorce. Suddenly, Gary couldn’t sleep. He spent his nights taking endless, hushed phone calls, constantly murmuring, “Suzie’s having a really hard time lately.” Then his mother stopped by, carrying two bags. One was for me, and the other was “just to drop off at Suzie’s on the way.” The package for Suzie was a fresh, homemade peach cobbler, still warm from the oven. Mine was a box of cheap, store-brand sandwich cookies from the grocery store. That night, as I sat in front of the vanity mirror staring at my reflection, a bitter truth echoed in my mind: “You are the one he married. She is the one he keeps in his heart.” I unlocked my phone, opened the real estate app, and looked at the listing page of our house, which I had bookmarked weeks ago. Before going to bed, I clicked submit to put it up for sale. It was time to cut the ties. Our first spring as husband and wife, Gary brought home a bouquet of white magnolias. Holding the delicate blossoms, a rare warmth bloomed in my chest. Then he took a photo of the flowers and posted it online. Suzie commented almost immediately: “White magnolias. Perfect choice. I knew she’d love them.” I stared at that comment for what felt like hours. So that was it. I quietly arranged the flowers in a vase and said nothing. Later that night, while Gary was in the shower, I picked up his phone. I wasn’t looking for a smoking gun of an affair. I just needed to confirm a nagging suspicion. I scrolled up through his chat history with Suzie, all the way back to when we first started dating. Suzie: “She loves white magnolias. Skip the roses, she thinks they’re too cliché. Got it?” Gary: “Yeah.” Further up, another one: “She’s allergic to seafood, especially shrimp. Do not take her to sushi bars.” “She’s afraid of the dark. Make sure there’s a nightlight.” “Don’t hug her unexpectedly from behind. It startles her.” One by one, they went on. A curated instruction manual written entirely by Suzie. Exactly twenty-three rules on how to love me. I slipped the phone back onto the nightstand, lay down, and stared blankly at the ceiling. Gary stepped out of the bathroom, bringing the damp, warm scent of his shower with him as he slid under the covers. “Tired?” he murmured. “Yeah.” He turned on his side, gently stroking my hair in a slow, rhythmic way he thought I loved. I closed my eyes, silent. Even this gesture, I suspected, was something she had taught him. Our three years of marriage weren’t terrible. Gary didn’t have a bad temper, he didn’t drink, he transferred his paycheck to our shared account on time every month, and he always accompanied me to the grocery store on weekends. My friends constantly told me how lucky I was. But day by day, a cold truth crystallized in my mind. Every ounce of his thoughtfulness had a blueprint. And Suzie was the architect. Once, at a company dinner, a dish with shrimp was placed on the table. The colleague sitting next to me asked, “Can you eat shrimp, Nora?” Before I could even open my mouth, Gary interjected, “No, she can’t. She’s highly allergic.” The colleague beamed at him. “Wow, what a sweet husband.” Gary offered a modest smile and said nothing. I forced a smile of my own and kept sipping my soup. He remembered. But how he came to remember was a secret only the two of us truly held. Suzie was our mutual friend, the matchmaker who had brought us together. She was beautiful, bright, the kind of woman who effortlessly commanded any room she walked into. I had known her for seven years and genuinely believed we were close friends. Until one afternoon, when I accidentally overheard her on the phone with Gary. “You need to treat her right,” she was saying. “Nora’s the type who needs real devotion to feel safe, or she’ll walk away.” Her tone was careful, clinical, like a manager handing off a delicate assignment. I stood frozen in the hallway. A sudden breeze swept through the open window, chilling me to the bone. Last month, Suzie and Brandon finalized their divorce. Gary was the one who broke the news to me. He sat on the couch that evening, his face an unreadable mask of worry and restlessness. After a long silence, he finally spoke. “Suzie and Brandon are done. It’s official.” I was at the kitchen sink, rinsing the dinner dishes. “Oh. Okay.” The clinking of ceramic and silverware echoed loudly in the small kitchen. Gary fell silent, but he tossed and turned all night. I knew, because I lay wide awake beside him. After that, Gary’s phone began to light up constantly. Eleven at night, midnight, sometimes past one in the morning. Whenever I rolled over, I would see her name flashing across the screen. Sometimes he answered. He would slip out of bed, quiet as a ghost, and step out onto the balcony, sliding the glass door shut behind him. I lay there in the dark, listening to the muffled murmur of his voice through the glass. I couldn’t make out the words, but his tone was incredibly soft, incredibly patient. A tone he rarely used with me anymore. His mother visited last week. She walked in carrying two shopping bags. One she tossed onto the coffee table; the other she kept tightly in her grip, explaining she was dropping it off at Suzie’s. “Suzie’s all alone now, poor thing,” she said with a heavy sigh. “I baked her some peach cobbler to cheer her up.” She nodded toward the bag on the table. “Yours is in there. Just some cookies from the supermarket. You young people love that stuff, right?” I peered inside the bag. It was a box of generic, store-brand cream sandwich cookies. The clearance sticker read $1.99. His mother was already heading out the door, cobbler in hand. She turned to Gary before leaving. “Gary, make sure you check in on Suzie. She has no one else right now.” “I will,” Gary replied softly. When the front door clicked shut, I was still sitting on the sofa, clutching that cheap box of cookies. A tiny label on the back caught my eye: Best before: Six months. For some reason, I felt a hysterical urge to laugh. That night, I sat alone in front of the mirror, wiping off my makeup. My eyes looked tired, the corners of my mouth pulling downward. Suddenly, a memory from before our wedding surfaced. Suzie had taken my hands in hers, smiling warmly. “I’m so glad you’re marrying Gary, Nora. He’s a good man. He’ll take such good care of you.” I had been so touched back then, believing she was genuinely happy for us. Now, looking back, the words felt dripping with a different meaning. He will take good care of you… As long as I keep telling him how. The day I officially listed our house, Gary wasn’t home. He had told me he was helping Suzie finalize her divorce paperwork and pack up a few boxes of books. I had simply smiled, said okay, and watched him leave. Then I unlocked my phone, opened the real estate app, and filled out the listing form. My hand didn’t tremble when I pressed submit. The truth was, this wasn’t a snap decision. I hadn’t decided to leave on the day Suzie got divorced, or even the day his mother handed me those cheap cookies. It happened much earlier, on a cold, ordinary Tuesday afternoon. I had a high fever, shivering alone under the blankets with my temperature spiking to 101.3. I texted Gary, asking if he could come home early. His reply was brief: Suzie has a bit of an emergency today. I’m going to be late. Just walk down to the drugstore and grab some ibuprofen. I stared at the screen and never wrote back. Instead, I dragged myself out of bed, threw on a heavy coat, and walked to the pharmacy myself. On the walk back, the freezing wind made my eyes sting. Waiting at the crosswalk among a sea of rushing commuters, surrounded by strangers who didn’t care if I lived or died, the realization washed over me. In this marriage, I had always been entirely on my own. The real estate agent called back quickly, asking a few routine questions and promising to schedule some viewings soon. I hung up and began mentally cataloging my belongings. There wasn’t much to pack. A few changes of clothes, some favorite books, the jade bracelet my mother had given me, and my bank documents. Everything else was noise. Gary returned around nine that night, holding a takeout container of homemade lasagna. He said Suzie had made extra and insisted he bring some back for me. “She knows it’s your favorite,” he said, setting the container on the dining table. I stared at the plastic box, making no move to touch a fork. “I’m not hungry.” Gary frowned, sitting across from me and examining my face. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing. I’m just tired.” He didn’t probe further. He scrolled through his phone for a few minutes before heading to his study. I remained at the table, staring at the lasagna. He didn’t even see the problem with bringing me food cooked by Suzie. Or maybe he just couldn’t comprehend how deeply insulting it was. The potential buyers came on Saturday morning. It was a young couple with a toddler around three or four years old. Gary had left early that morning, claiming he needed to help Suzie move her furniture. I showed the couple around, leading them through the master bedroom, the study, and the kitchen, acting as a polite, detached guide. They loved the place, noting the abundant natural light and the practical layout. They asked why I was selling. “Just looking for a change of scenery,” I said simply. They nodded, satisfied with the answer. As they left, the little boy turned back to wave and smile at me before his mother guided him into the elevator. The metal doors slid shut, plunging the hallway into silence. I stood in the doorway and checked my phone. Gary had texted: Suzie’s place is taking longer than expected. Just grab something for lunch yourself. A second message followed: Oh, by the way, Suzie says there’s a great little bistro near her new apartment. I’ll take you there tonight. I set the phone screen-down on the coffee table. I went back to the bedroom, opened the closet, and began folding my clothes into a suitcase. I only took what was in season, just enough to get by. My mother’s jade bracelet was wrapped carefully in an old sweater and tucked securely at the bottom of the case. Leaving the rest behind didn’t feel like a loss. Gripping the handle of my suitcase, I stood at the threshold and took one last look at the apartment we had shared for three years. The beige walls, the dark mahogany furniture he loved, the dim bedside lamp he had refused to replace despite my complaints. Everything reflected his taste, curated in a style Suzie had picked out for him. There was not a single trace of me in this home. I turned the handle and walked out. Just as I reached the lobby, a notification popped up on my phone. Suzie had posted in our group chat. It was a photo of her new living room, sunlight streaming through sheer white curtains. A fresh start. So grateful to have you both in my life. A string of heart emojis followed. Gary replied instantly: Looks beautiful. Feels like a real home already. Then, he sent me a private message. Nora, can you send Suzie a quick text? If you’re the only one who doesn’t reply, she’s going to feel down. I stared at the screen, a dry, humorless laugh escaping my throat. Within seconds, I left the group chat and blocked both of them. I was done being an afterthought.

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1 On our wedding night, Hudson literally put a lock on his boxer briefs. A titanium combination lock. Waterproof, fireproof, and apparently, wife-proof. Just as I grabbed a heavy glass bottle, fully prepared to smash it and take what was legally mine, rows of glowing text suddenly drifted across my vision. [LMAO. The CEO would rather wear a padlock than touch his ex-wife. Bro’s commitment to purity is insane.] [Just wait until he meets the actual female lead. The ice king literally catches fire for her. Their office hookups are legendary.] [I kinda feel bad for the ex-wife though. Simping for him for six years, and she gets kicked to the curb without even holding his hand.] [Who cares? Everything the male lead owns belongs to our girl. He hands over his black cards, his shares. The ex-wife is just a walking ATM to fund their romance.] I stared at the floating comments, letting out a cold, bitter laugh. Why the hell should I bleed myself dry, offering up my money and my youth, just to end up with nothing and pave the way for some supposed “female lead”? Without a second thought, I crushed up ten of those highly questionable “Midnight Stallion” herbal energy boosters I bought at the gas station and dumped them straight into Hudson’s hangover smoothie. Guarding your purity, huh? Locking it up, right? Tonight, he was either breaking his vow of chastity, or I was making myself a widow! Either way, I wasn’t leaving him untouched for his next girl. I kicked open the heavy oak door to Hudson’s home office. Before he even had time to process what was happening, I grabbed his jaw and forced the spiked smoothie down his throat. The thick liquid spilled over his jawline, soaking into his charcoal dress shirt, perfectly highlighting the hard, sculpted lines of his chest. I swallowed hard. My craving for a piece of that meat only grew stronger. Hudson shoved me away violently, wiping his wet mouth, his eyes wide with absolute shock. “Faye, what the hell did you just make me drink?” I tossed the empty glass aside, straddled his lap, and looked him dead in the eye. “Ten maximum-strength herbal vitality boosters!” Hudson’s pupils shrank to pinpricks. I grabbed his silk tie and crashed my mouth against his. Six years of a crushing, one-sided secret love. One year of a paper marriage. And this was the very first time I actually tasted my own husband. His lips were softer than I imagined. My hands weren’t idle either. I had just managed to pop open the first two buttons of his shirt when he suddenly snapped out of his shock, grabbing my waist and flipping me backward onto his mahogany desk. “Faye, are you out of your damn mind?! Who gave you the nerve?!” “Don’t forget the terms we agreed on when we signed the papers! This is a corporate merger! No feelings involved!” Right. His company was bleeding cash, and my family provided a three-million-dollar bridge loan to save him, buying this marriage certificate in the process. But the glowing comments floating in the air said I was destined to be thrown out penniless, acting as nothing but a stepping stone for the real female lead. Like hell I would let that happen. I ripped my own collar open a few inches, leaning into the crazy. “We’re already married! Even if the fruit is bitter, I am taking a bite out of it tonight.” Maybe he had never seen me act so unhinged. Hudson froze for a second, then reached out to press the back of his hand against my forehead. “What is wrong with you? Are you sick?” Always like this. Usually, he was as cold as a glacier, but the second I acted slightly off, he pretended to care more than anyone else in the world. My nose stung. I threw my arms around his neck and buried my face in his chest. “Hudson, just kiss me. Please… If you kiss me, I won’t feel so sick anymore.” The man in my arms went completely rigid. I could feel his body physically reacting to me. Just when I thought I had finally won, he gripped my waist hard, lifted me off the desk, and quickly straightened his ruined shirt. “Faye. We are business partners.” “I don’t have feelings for you. I will never touch you.” “Give it up. Just sit quietly and play the role of Mrs. CEO.” Maybe he realized how brutal those words sounded, because he paused and added, “I’ll have my assistant wire you a million dollars tomorrow. Consider it compensation.” With that, he stormed into the attached bathroom and locked the door behind him. The sound of freezing cold water hitting the tiles mixed with his heavy, ragged breathing. I sat on the edge of the desk, my entire body turning to ice. The glowing comments flooded my vision again. [LMAO. Hudson would rather take an ice bath than touch the ex-wife. His loyalty is unmatched.] [Does she actually think she’s something special? Forcing a kiss on him? The delusion is real.] [Honestly, it’s a little sad. Legally married and he refuses to even look at her.] [Sad? He gave her a million bucks! But knowing this chick, she’ll probably wire it right back to him tomorrow to prove her ‘love’.] [Exactly. His money is destined for our girl Lily. His body too.] [Ugh, if I were the ex-wife, if I couldn’t get the guy, I’d at least keep the damn cash.] I pulled my knees to my chest and cried for the entire night. The comments were right. I was putting on this fake, noble act, playing the ultimate romantic martyr. Hudson literally offered me money, and I usually refused it. If I hadn’t seen those floating words, I really would have walked out of the divorce with absolutely nothing but the clothes on my back. By the time the sun came up, I finally figured it out. If Hudson didn’t want me, fine. I would quietly hoard the cash. As soon as his precious female lead showed up, I would take my money and disappear. Mind made up, I crawled back into the master bedroom to catch up on my sleep. When Hudson woke up that morning and didn’t see me in the kitchen, he actually froze for a second. He pushed open the bedroom door, saw the lump of blankets in the middle of the bed, and the tight line of his jaw finally relaxed. When he arrived at the corporate headquarters, he sat down for his morning briefing, hesitated for a moment, and pressed the intercom for his assistant. “This is my wife’s routing number. Wire three million to her account. Pull it directly from my personal funds.” I slept like the absolute dead. From the day I married Hudson, I spent every waking moment walking on eggshells, desperately trying to please him. Today was the first time I actually slept peacefully. When I woke up, it was already past two in the afternoon. Which meant I hadn’t made him breakfast. I hadn’t delivered his perfectly portioned lunch to the office either. Not that he cared. I unlocked my phone. For the first time in forever, there was an unprompted text from Hudson. [Let’s forget about last night.] [I wired you some money. Go buy something you like.] I checked my banking app. Exactly three million dollars. God bless the CEO. My savings account just hit seven figures. A bitter smile tugged at my lips. If I had just focused on the money from the start, I probably would have achieved financial freedom years ago. I washed my face and decided to go for a walk downtown. Somehow, I ended up outside the coffee shop right beneath his corporate tower. Through the massive glass windows, I saw a girl in a flowing white sundress holding a stack of brochures, handing them out to pedestrians under the blazing Texas sun. The comments exploded instantly. [Ahhhhh it’s our girl Lily! She is so hardworking, doing charity legal outreach in this heat!] [Wait, I remember this! She has terrible cramps today. The male lead is going to bump into her and carry her straight up to his penthouse office!] Is that right? So this was the girl who eventually turned the cold, calculating Hudson into a lovesick fool. She was… undeniably prettier than me. Her skin caught the sunlight like porcelain, flushed a delicate pink from the heat. The oversized white dress did nothing to hide the perfect curves of her figure. But she looked genuinely pale and sick. The cramps were clearly tearing her apart. Right at that moment, the glass doors of the headquarters slid open, and Hudson took a long stride out of the lobby. Lily swayed on her feet and collapsed directly into his chest. My vision was instantly blinded by comments screaming “OMG,” “SO SWEET,” and “I’M DYING.” Hudson reacted exactly the way the comments predicted. He looked down at her face and froze. For the very first time in his life, he didn’t shove a stranger away. Instead, he hesitated for half a second, bent down, scooped her up into his arms, and turned right back into the building. I didn’t watch the rest. I just closed my eyes. I didn’t need to see it to know how it ends. The leads meet, they become magnetically drawn to each other, and they fall into a chaotic, earth-shattering romance. And me? The unloved background character? My screen time was over. Some things in life just can’t be achieved through hard work. My nose stung. I wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. I walked into the luxury mall next door in a complete daze. Spotting a high-end salon, I walked right in. The stylist smiled at me in the mirror. “What kind of look are we going for today, miss?” I pointed at the top of my head. “Dye the whole thing green.” He blinked. “That color… is a bold choice. Are you sure?” “It’s fine. It fits the mood.” The stylist looked at me with deep, sudden pity. I used to think Hudson liked elegant, preppy women, so I spent hours torturing myself into pastel cardigans and sleek blowouts. In the end, he never even glanced my way. I knew I wasn’t classically beautiful. I had a round face, a little bit of baby fat, and I always felt a little awkward in my own skin. When the bleach was washed out and my hair was a deep, vibrant forest green, the stylist actually smiled. “Hey, I have to admit, you rock this color. You look like a gorgeous forest witch.” My smile probably looked worse than crying. “Really? Maybe… maybe this is who I actually am.” I wasn’t like Lily, who could just stand there and radiate this delicate, heartbreaking fragility. I went to the boutiques next door and bought an armful of ridiculously comfortable, baggy streetwear. When the cashier asked what I wanted to do with the expensive pastel dress I wore in, I didn’t hesitate. “Throw it in the trash.” I had only bought it guessing at Hudson’s preferences anyway. He didn’t like it, and I hated it. No point keeping it. When I got home, I purged my closet. Half my clothes went into donation bags, the rest straight into the dumpster. By six in the evening, Hudson walked through the front door. He looked genuinely surprised when he saw me dragging heavy trash bags toward the door. “What are you doing? It’s late. And I thought you loved that skirt.” I kept my head down. “I don’t like it anymore, so I’m throwing it out.” “And your hair…” “It fits the mood.” “…” He didn’t push it. He walked further inside and noticed the dining table was completely empty. “Did you…” I finally remembered I hadn’t cooked a single thing. “Sorry. I was tired today. I can order some takeout for you?” Hudson’s gaze lingered heavily on me. “Don’t bother. I’m not hungry.” He turned and walked toward the guest bedroom. As he brushed past me, a faint, sweet scent drifted off his suit jacket. Gardenias. It was Lily’s perfume. Hot water beat down from the showerhead. Hudson leaned against the wet tile wall, his mind completely hijacked by the memory of Faye straddling his lap the night before. He admitted it to himself—he definitely reacted. Those ridiculous herbal pills weren’t entirely useless. But what actually frustrated him was the fact that he kept replaying the taste of her kiss in his head. It felt shameful, yet incredibly addicting. He scrubbed his face with body wash, his ears straining to hear any movement outside the door. But thirty minutes passed, and Faye never burst in. He pressed his tongue hard against the inside of his cheek, feeling like he was losing his mind. Why was he hoping she would barge in and kiss him again? He didn’t even like her. He rinsed off the soap, threw on a bathrobe, and walked out. He told himself he was just thirsty. He just needed a glass of water from the kitchen. But when he reached the living room, the lights were entirely off. Faye was already asleep in the master bedroom. A heavy, uncomfortable feeling settled in Hudson’s chest as he turned and walked back to his empty room. That night, he dreamed of his home office. He dreamed of Faye sitting on his lap, only this time, he didn’t push her away… The next morning, I woke up to find breakfast already set on the table. Hudson had actually cooked. He saw me, giving a stiff, unnatural smile. “You’re awake? I noticed you drank a bit the other night, so I made you some soothing ginger chicken broth.” I gave a quiet “Hmm.” I was just starting to feel a little touched, until the glowing text ruined it. [Holy shit, what is happening? The CEO cooking for the ex-wife?!] [Relax. He heard our girl Lily has a weak stomach, so he’s trying to perfect this ginger broth recipe. He’s just using the ex-wife as a taste tester.] [You gotta admit, the ex looks like she’s about to cry. She probably thinks he actually likes her now.] [So shameless. Look at her face. She has zero self-awareness, always throwing herself at him.] The more I read, the colder my blood ran. I finished the broth in absolute silence. Hudson ate his toast, watching me out of the corner of his eye. “Is it good?” I nodded slowly. “It’s good.” When you make it for Lily later, she’ll probably love it. I carried my bowl into the kitchen, completely ignoring the heavy gaze Hudson kept locked on my back. When he was putting on his shoes to leave for work, he suddenly leaned down, aiming to kiss my cheek. I jumped back like I had been burned. “What?” he asked, his brow furrowing. “Nothing,” he coughed, trying to hide his awkwardness. “Just… we are married. It’s standard procedure.” I forced a bitter smile and waved him off. “No, you don’t need to do that. You don’t ever have to do that again.” You don’t have to force yourself to accept me. Go do what you actually want to do. I looked at Hudson’s flawless face, silently drawing a hard line through this relationship in my heart. Hudson left for the office with a dark, stormy expression. I figured since the female lead had officially entered the chat, our marriage was probably on a countdown. Once this was over, I would be completely alone. I didn’t know what my next move was. Needing someone to talk to, I took an Uber to my mother’s new house. She was sitting on the porch, rocking her toddler son in the sun. When she saw me, irritation flashed in her eyes. “Why are you here?” I swallowed awkwardly. “Nothing, I just wanted to see you. Mom, there’s something I need to talk to you about…” Right then, my little half-brother tripped and fell. My mom frantically rushed over to scoop him up. “Whatever it is, text it to me. Your stepdad is coming home soon, and you know he doesn’t like having you around. You need to leave.” I slowly backed away and tried calling my dad’s number. He picked up, the sound of crashing ocean waves and a younger woman laughing in the background. “I’m on vacation in Cabo. If no one is dying, don’t call me.” “Dad, I just need to ask you something…” “Ask your mother! Stop coming to me every time you want a handout! You’re not my only kid anymore!” Click. The line went dead. I stood at the corner of a busy intersection, my mind completely blank. Right on cue, the floating text popped up with a new update. [OMG OMG! Lily brought the ginger broth to Hudson’s office! They ate together and had the sweetest lunch date!] [It’s so cute! When is the ex-wife getting written out? I want to see the CEO catch fire for love!] [Soon! According to the timeline, he proposes to Lily in exactly two months. He definitely has to take out the trash before then.] I wanted to cry, but I was just so unbelievably exhausted. Even as a side character, shouldn’t I get at least a tiny bit of happiness? Forget it. Ever since my parents divorced and threw me away like garbage, I was used to the fact that good things just weren’t meant for me. I crouched on the sidewalk, let a few tears fall, and stood up to leave. Just then, a sleek black Mercedes pulled over to the curb beside me. The tinted window rolled down, revealing a handsome, gentle face. “Faye? What are you doing out here?” I blinked, recognizing him instantly. “Sebastian? Sebastian Qu?” Sebastian smiled and nodded. “Just got out of the medical lab. I thought I recognized you. Is everything okay?” He was Hudson’s college roommate and original business partner. They had a falling out over corporate ethics, and Sebastian left to build his own insanely successful med-tech firm. Other than a quick hello at my wedding, we had barely spoken. I didn’t expect him to actually remember me, let alone step out of his car to hand me a pack of tissues. I felt my face heat up. “Thank you…” Sebastian offered a soft, understanding smile. “What happened? Crying on the street like this… did Hudson do something to you?” The Feed immediately started screaming. [Oh snap, it’s Sebastian! The tech billionaire! Good looks, infinite money, and an actual moral compass!] [I heard this dude is chronically single. Only cares about his research. His record is squeaky clean.] [Honestly, the ex-wife just has terrible taste. If she had gone after Sebastian instead, she’d be set for life and never have to worry about him cheating.] [LMAO so true. Sebastian loves his spreadsheets, not women. Marrying a guy like that would be so low-maintenance.] Sebastian… low-maintenance? Would that really work? I genuinely thought about it for a second before laughing at my own stupidity. How many times did I need to get my heart smashed before I stopped dreaming about these ridiculous fairy tales? That night, back at the empty house, I couldn’t stop thinking about the two-month countdown to Hudson’s proposal to Lily. If the timeline was right, we would be filing for divorce very soon. I needed to start packing. I was in the middle of emptying a drawer when I heard the front door click open. I walked out to the living room. Hudson was back. And standing right behind him, wearing a soft pink cardigan, was Lily. This was my first time seeing the supposed “female lead” up close. She really was stunning. Thanks to Hudson taking care of her lately, she had a healthy glow, light makeup, and smelled like expensive floral perfume. She looked at me without an ounce of guilt. “Hello, sister.” Me: … Before I could even process the audacity, she kept going. “I’m just here to help Mr. Hudson pack his luggage for his business trip. Please don’t misunderstand.” Oh, I wasn’t misunderstanding anything. Soon enough, this whole house would be yours. I gave a deeply forced, polite smile and looked at Hudson, who was drinking a glass of water. He met my eyes. “Pack a few suits for me. I’m flying to Austin for a project the day after tomorrow.” I nodded, about to stand up. Then I saw the comments calling me a nosy, meddling bitch, and I sat right back down. I looked at Lily with a warm, welcoming smile. “Hudson’s bedroom is on the second floor, first door on the left. You go ahead and pack for him.” “You’re his assistant, after all. You know exactly what dress code he needs for his meetings.” A flash of genuine shock and excitement crossed Lily’s face. She quickly suppressed it, lowering her voice to sound hesitant. “Are you sure that’s appropriate?” “It’s just clothes. Go ahead.” The second her footsteps disappeared up the stairs, Hudson slammed his glass onto the counter. He crossed the room, his face dark like a thundercloud. “Faye.” “Yeah?” “Why the hell did you just let another woman into my bedroom?” “Why not? It’s not like you ever wanted me in there.” Wanted me in there? Just breathing the same air as him used to look like it physically pained him. Hudson opened his mouth, closed it, and aggressively loosened his tie, looking incredibly frustrated. He was just about to say something when Lily came walking back down the stairs with a packed duffel bag. I smiled gracefully. “All done? Great. Have a safe trip, you two.” With that, I turned and walked back into the guest room, shutting the door. I pride myself on being incredibly dignified. I played the gracious host perfectly. My only hope now was that when the divorce papers came, he would add a few extra zeroes to the alimony check. Just like the comments said—if I couldn’t get the man, I was absolutely getting the bag. Lying in bed, trying to ignore the crushing weight in my chest, I pulled out my phone to scroll through TikTok. A message popped up from Sebastian. He said he just wrapped up a board meeting and asked if I wanted to grab dinner. I texted back that Hudson was out of town, and I was just sitting at home alone. He immediately sent a photo of a table covered in incredible food. [If you don’t mind the company, come over to this restaurant. We can talk about that grad school recommendation letter you mentioned.] Since sitting at home was only going to lead to an anxiety spiral, I threw on a jacket and ordered a car to the restaurant Sebastian booked. Putting all the complex drama aside, Sebastian really was a fantastic friend. He spoke slowly and deliberately, and he actually paid attention to how I felt. When he noticed I was picking the cilantro out of my food, he quietly flagged the waiter and swapped out three dishes for things I actually liked, including an amazing red wine braised short rib. I was having such a surprisingly good time that I snapped a photo of the table. I posted it to my Instagram story: [Huge thanks to Sebastian for the amazing dinner!] I figured Hudson was in Austin, he never looked at my social media anyway, and I didn’t bother hiding it from anyone. I didn’t expect that at eleven o’clock that night, a massive thunderstorm would roll into the city. I had just stepped out of the shower and was about to get into bed when I heard the electronic keypad on the front door beep. Thinking the wind had knocked something over, I turned on my flashlight and walked out to the hallway. Standing in the entryway was a completely soaked, dripping wet figure. His face was lethally dark. The second he saw me, Hudson crossed the room in three massive strides. He slammed me back against the hallway wall, his eyes completely bloodshot. “Just because I wouldn’t let you touch me that night, you ran straight to Sebastian?!”

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My roommate borrowed a quick five bucks from me to buy instant noodles. An hour later, she was flexing her “wealth” and offering to treat our entire drama club to a luxury dinner. I kept my mouth shut and made a single phone call that completely shattered her little fantasy. When the bill arrived, all the color drained from her face. … 1 “Loren, you still have like a thousand bucks on that prepaid card, right?” Vilma leaned over, a sickeningly sweet smile plastered on her face. “Let’s go get a nice dinner this Saturday. My treat.” I didn’t even bother looking up from my laptop. “No.” Her voice spiked an octave. “I am offering to treat you, and you are saying no?” “My tonsils are inflamed.” “So what!” Vilma grabbed my arm. “You can just order something light! Babe, I am finally treating you to a nice meal. Can’t you just give me this one?” I yanked my arm back. “I said no.” “Loren!” Her face darkened instantly. “Are you intentionally disrespecting me?” I finally looked at her. “Are you out of your mind?” Vilma crossed her arms defensively. “I am trying to do something nice for you, and you curse at me?” I stared her down. “Two days ago you were crying about being broke and begged me for five bucks just to buy ramen. Today you are playing sugar daddy? Did you win the lottery?” Vilma let out a cold laugh. “Wow, you are so stuck up. I am taking over a dozen people from the drama club out to dinner. It is going to cost over a thousand bucks.” I narrowed my eyes. “With what money?” As I stared at her, a memory flashed in my head. The last time we were at that high-end restaurant, I caught her pulling a waiter aside. I clearly remembered the greedy glint in her eyes as she whispered, “Can someone use a prepaid account just by giving the phone number?” “Vilma,” I dropped my voice to a whisper. “Are you planning on using my card?” Her face went completely rigid. “What the hell are you talking about?” “I am asking you a direct question!” “Do you have any proof, or do you just like screaming at people!” Vilma yelled, her voice echoing in the dorm. “Are you insane, Loren? I offer to buy you dinner, and you accuse me of stealing?” “Offer to buy me dinner?” I scoffed. “You couldn’t afford a cup of noodles, and now you are suddenly taking fifteen people to a luxury restaurant? Tell me, where is this sudden generosity coming from?” Vilma glared at me. “Did I ever say I was using your card? You are just making up lies to slander me!” “Then why did you ask the waiter if you could charge the account with just a phone number?” “Am I not allowed to be curious?” she shrieked. “If I look up a word in a dictionary, are you gonna accuse me of stealing your vocabulary too?” I actually laughed out loud at the sheer absurdity. Vilma snatched her purse and stormed toward the door, turning around at the last second. “Loren, if you are going to be this paranoid, don’t ever ask to borrow anything from me again.” “When have I ever borrowed anything from you?” I fired back, my voice dripping with ice. “Let’s see… the shampoo, the body wash, the laundry detergent. Which of those didn’t I buy?” “Fine!” Her face flushed a dark, angry red. “I will buy brand new bottles tomorrow and throw them at you! Nobody wants your cheap garbage!” “Oh, you will replace them.” I stared dead into her eyes. “You will go buy them right now. Do not wait until tomorrow.” Vilma froze. “You…” “Go.” I picked up my phone. “Or do I need to walk you down to the convenience store myself?” She shot me a venomous glare, slammed the door, and left. I didn’t hesitate for a second. I immediately dialed the restaurant’s manager. “Hi, this is Loren, I have a VIP account with you. I need to update my security settings immediately. From now on, no one can authorize a charge without my physical ID present. No exceptions.” “Yes. I don’t care if it is my own mother. If my ID isn’t there, decline the charge.” 2 “The electricity bill is $33. The power gets cut at 11:00 PM tonight.” A message popped up in our dorm group chat. Vilma replied instantly. “Everyone send me $11.10. I will collect it and pay.” I glanced at the bill attached to the message and typed back in the group. “The bill is $33. There are four of us. That is $8.25 each. Why are you asking for $11.10?” Vilma popped her head out from her top bunk. “You are rich. What is the big deal if you pay a little more?” “Why should I?” “Because you are the one blasting the AC all day! Me and Sarah hate the cold, we never turn it on! You are the one living in luxury, you should pay the difference!” I laughed. “You hate the cold? It was ninety-five degrees last week, and you spent the entire afternoon practically hugging the AC vent. Do you want me to pull up the photos Sarah took?” Vilma’s face turned bright pink. “That… that was a special circumstance!” “Special how? When you were leeching off my AC, you didn’t volunteer to pay extra, did you?” “You…” She gritted her teeth. “Are you seriously doing this, Loren? Over three dollars? You are going to argue with me over three dollars?” “Three dollars is still money,” I stared right back at her. “Why don’t you cover it for me, since you are so generous?” Vilma choked on her words. Our other two roommates, sensing the tension, quietly transferred exactly $8.25 in the group chat and pretended to be dead asleep. My phone pinged twice with the transfers. I looked at Vilma. “They paid. You are the only one left. Send it.” Vilma’s face was practically glowing red. “I… I will send it later.” “Later when? Didn’t you say you were collecting it to pay now? The power cuts at eleven. It is eight-thirty.” “I said I will do it later! God!” she suddenly yelled. “Why are you rushing me!” I didn’t say a word. I just watched her. She aggressively tapped her phone screen a few times, her face turning even redder. “I… I don’t have enough money right now,” her voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. “You don’t have enough?” I leaned back in my chair. “Aren’t you treating fifteen people from the drama club to a massive luxury dinner this Saturday?” “What, you can’t even afford eight bucks for electricity?” Vilma’s eyes darted around the room. “That… that is totally different.” “Different?” I laughed. “You have money to play big shot at a restaurant, but no money to keep the lights on? That is hilarious.” I stood up and grabbed my shower caddy. “The power cuts at eleven. You have two and a half hours.” When I reached the door, I looked over my shoulder. “Oh, by the way. You don’t have to pay me back that five bucks for the noodles. Consider it a favor.” “What favor?” She looked confused. “I will eat the three-dollar difference on the electric bill.” “But Vilma, that restaurant is going to cost a hell of a lot more than three dollars. You better go secure a bank loan before Saturday.” 3 On Saturday, Vilma had barely been at the restaurant for two hours. Voice calls and text messages started machine-gunning onto my phone screen, blowing it up instantly. “Loren! You did this on purpose, didn’t you!” “Unfreeze the card right now! Or I swear I will make your life a living hell!” I didn’t reply to a single one. A minute later, a call came through. It was the restaurant manager. “Miss Loren, your classmate said you were coming down personally with your ID to unfreeze the account…” “How much did she spend?” “Nine hundred and eighty-six dollars.” I laughed. The audacity of ignorance truly knew no bounds. “Manager, please put her on the phone.” After two seconds of dead silence, Vilma’s sickly-sweet, innocent voice came through the speaker. “Audie, babe, you promised to let me borrow the card…” I cut her off immediately. “Did I promise you in a dream you had?” “Babe, we already ate all the food. What are you gonna do…” Her voice was dripping with manufactured sugar. “You are always so good to me, you wouldn’t make a big deal out of this, right? I will totally buy you dinner next time…” “Next time?” I let out a sharp laugh. “You tried to extort three dollars from me for an electric bill. How exactly are you going to buy me a thousand-dollar dinner?” “With your dazzling personality?” Vilma’s voice started to tremble. “Loren, don’t do this… Everyone is watching me…” “Good.” I said. “Let everyone watch. Let them see exactly what happens when a parasite tries to play host.” Through the phone, I could hear the hushed, panicked whispers of the drama club members. “What is going on? I thought she had a VIP card?” “Vilma, what is the holdup? We finished eating half an hour ago…” “Is it even her card?” Vilma’s voice spiked in sheer panic. “Don’t… don’t worry guys! Loren is my roommate, her family is loaded! She is super sweet, she is fixing it right now!” I burst out laughing. “Vilma, what does my family’s money have to do with you?” “Am I your mother? Or did you mistake me for your personal ATM?” “Loren!” I scoffed coldly. “Let me make this crystal clear. You do not get to use my money to play God. You invited them, you pay the bill. That is how the world works.” “Don’t try to buy popularity with my bank account.” Vilma completely lost it, screaming into the phone. “Can’t you just help me this one time! Are we not friends anymore!” “Friends?” I laughed coldly. “What kind of normal person tries to steal their friend’s credit card to buy a thousand-dollar dinner?” “That is not friendship, Vilma. That is fraud.” The private dining room went completely silent. One of the club members muttered, “Vilma, didn’t you say it was your card?” Vilma was in full meltdown mode. “No! She told me I could use it! She lied to me!” “Right,” I sneered. Vilma exploded. “Loren! You purposely froze the card just to humiliate me! You did this on purpose!” “So what if I did? I am under zero obligation to clean up your mess.” Right on cue, the manager’s calm, professional voice echoed through the dining room, loud enough for everyone—including me—to hear. “Miss, will you be paying with Apple Pay, a physical card… or should I have you wait in my office until the police arrive?” 4 That night, Vilma practically kicked the dorm door off its hinges. She stormed right up to my desk and screamed in my face. “Loren! What the hell is your problem!” My tone was absolute ice. “My problem? I think I should be asking you that.” She immediately launched into a hysterical rant. “In front of twenty people! I lost every shred of dignity I had! I had to beg the manager on my knees and sign a promissory note saying I would bring the cash tomorrow just so he wouldn’t call the cops! You could have easily stopped this! Why didn’t you help me?” I stared at her, completely unfazed. “You attempted to steal my identity to flex on your club, and you think you are the victim?” Vilma resorted to throwing a full-blown tantrum. “It is nearly a thousand dollars! I don’t have that kind of money! What am I supposed to do!” “You can go beg on the street corner for all I care,” I said coldly. “Figure it out yourself.” “We are roommates!” Vilma shrieked, her voice echoing down the hall. “Aren’t roommates supposed to help each other out? Supposed to be forgiving? Do you really have to be this petty and completely ruin my life?” I actually chuckled, shaking my head at her absolute delusion. “You tried to dodge an eight-dollar electric bill. You begged me for five bucks for ramen, which you never paid back.” “You steal the pennies, but you try to hijack the big bucks. Your greed is just getting out of control, Vilma.” “You… you took screenshots of all that!” Vilma’s eyes instantly welled up with tears, flipping the switch back to playing the victim. “I just made a stupid mistake! Just pay the restaurant for me, please! I literally have zero dollars, they are going to have me arrested!” My voice was glacial. “It was an attempted theft. Let them call the cops. The one getting a criminal record is you, not me.” “I wasn’t stealing! I was just borrowing it!” Vilma screamed hysterically. “Taking without asking is stealing.” I stated with absolute finality. “I am not giving you a single cent. You made the mess, you deal with the consequences.” Vilma completely broke down, dropping to the floor and wailing like a child. She honestly thought I would eventually cave, just like I had in the past. I looked down at her with absolute apathy. “Consider this a hard lesson. Next time you think someone’s generosity makes them a pushover, remember today.” Vilma glared up at me, her eyes filled with pure venom. “You forced my hand. I am going to make you the most hated person on this campus!” She scrambled up, slammed the door, and stormed out. A second later, my phone buzzed. It was a text from an unknown number. “Loren, I am a freshman in the drama club.” “Vilma just posted a photo of you in the massive club group chat. She is calling you a ‘filthy rich sociopath who bullies poor students.’” “She also said she is going to the Dean to report you for defamation. Watch your back.” I stared at the messages and smiled. Go ahead. Throw your little tantrum. If she wanted a war, I was going to give her a war of absolute annihilation. I opened a new document on my phone. The title: The Vilma Debt Ledger: From Cup Noodles to Identity Theft. This wasn’t the end. This was just the beginning.

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1 Freshman year, my mom lost everything to a scammer and swallowed a lethal dose of painkillers. At the hospital, facing a $50,000 deposit just to pump her stomach, I emptied my pockets and found only $22 in crumpled bills and coins. As I sank to my knees to beg the nurses, Rick grabbed my arm and pulled me upright. He was the golden boy of our class, always sitting in front of me during lectures. Without hesitation, he pressed his heavy, solid gold heirloom bangles into my palm. “Pawn these. Use the cash to save her,” he said firmly. “A girl should never have to trade her dignity for money. Stand up straight.” I told him I would probably never be able to repay such a debt. He simply looked at me and replied, “I didn’t ask for repayment. Just survive this. Make something of yourself.” My mother survived the overdose. I pushed through graduation, clawed my way up the corporate ladder, and weathered the brutal storms of the tech industry. After college, Rick completely vanished, and I lost all contact with him. Seven years passed. On the very day my tech empire went public on the Nasdaq, pushing my net worth into the billions, Rick’s face suddenly appeared on my social feed. The post was from Luv, the same partner who had scammed my mother all those years ago. The photo showed Rick’s side profile. He was holding a glass of cheap liquor, forced into a humiliated, apologetic smile. The caption read, “The high and mighty golden boy, swallowing his pride and pouring my drinks just to beg for a hundred grand in medical bills. How the mighty have fallen.” I slowly locked my phone screen. Walking over to the hidden safe in my office, I unlocked the deepest compartment. Inside lay those two solid gold bangles, which I had tracked down and repurchased at an astronomical price years ago. Seven years ago, he saved my life. Tonight, it was my turn to have his back. A deafening crash echoed through the room as my boot splintered the heavy oak doors of The Apex Club’s VIP lounge. Inside, a dozen scantily clad bottle boys screamed and scrambled into the corners. Sprawled right in the center of the genuine leather sofa was Luv. The architect of my mother’s misery. “What kind of suicidal idiot crashes Luv’s private party?” The voice didn’t belong to Luv. It came from Lexi, our old class president, a girl who had always kissed up to the rich and trampled on the poor. Lexi cursed under her breath and stood up. She squinted through the neon club lighting, her eyes locking onto my face. A second later, she threw her head back and burst into exaggerated, mocking laughter. “Well, look who it is! If it isn’t Freya, the little stray dog from college who couldn’t even afford cafeteria food!” Lexi sneered, crossing her arms. “What’s the matter? Heard your pathetic mother didn’t quite finish the job, so you came here to beg for scraps?” I didn’t even look at her. My eyes swept the dim, alcohol-soaked room. I didn’t see the face I was looking for. “Where is Rick?” I asked, my voice dropping to a freezing whisper. Hearing that name only made Lexi’s smile wider and infinitely more vulgar. “Aw, still pining after our fallen prince? Too bad you’re late.” She pointed a manicured finger at three empty bottles of high-proof whiskey on the table. “He wanted Luv to loan him a hundred grand to save his crippled mother. Luv made him chug three bottles straight. He just stumbled out of here, puking up his own bile.” Lexi tilted her head, her eyes gleaming with malice. “If you want to book him for the night, Freya, get in line. But hey, since you used to have a crush on him, maybe Luv will give you a discount once she’s done breaking him in?” The entire VIP room erupted into cruel, roaring laughter. My heart seized in my chest. A violent, suffocating rage spiked straight to my brain. I remembered the winter of my freshman year. The city was buried under a brutal blizzard. To pay off the debt from my mother’s hospital bills, I was working three minimum-wage jobs. One night, while delivering food in the snow, my bike was robbed. I lost my last dime covering the stolen orders. I was sitting on a frozen curb, my stomach cramping so hard from hunger I couldn’t breathe. That was the night Rick found me. He didn’t hand me cash out of pity. Instead, he shoved two steaming containers of hot food into my freezing hands, his cheeks flushed from the cold as he feigned annoyance. “Ordered too much. It’s going in the trash anyway. Do me a favor and get rid of it.” I kept my head down, swallowing the hot food as fast as I could while tears mixed with the broth. His voice was so gentle that night. “You need a full stomach if you’re going to keep fighting. Stop looking so miserable. If the sky falls, the tall guys will hold it up for you.” That boy. The boy who stood in the freezing snow, carefully protecting the fragile dignity of a dirt-poor girl. The boy who gave me my only shred of warmth when I was at the absolute bottom. And now, these absolute pieces of trash were treating him like a disposable toy. “Who did you say gets a discount?” I asked, taking a slow step toward Lexi. “What? Did I strike a nerve?” Lexi shoved her finger aggressively into my face. “You broke little bitch, who do you think you are…” She never finished her sentence. From behind me, Marcus, my head of security, moved like a shadow. A vicious roundhouse kick connected squarely with Lexi’s ribs. She shrieked as the sheer force launched her backward. She crashed violently into the glass coffee table, shattering the surface into a thousand pieces. Marcus walked over with a face carved from stone. He grabbed a handful of her hair, yanked her head back, and delivered a brutal backhand that sent a spray of blood and broken teeth onto the expensive rug. A piercing scream tore through the room. Dead silence fell over the club. The bottle boys were weeping, pressing themselves into the walls. Even Luv, who had been sitting like a queen just moments ago, drained of all color, her alcohol buzz vanishing instantly. I walked over to Lexi, looking down at her writhing body. “I will ask this exactly one more time. Where is Rick?” Blood bubbled from Lexi’s lips. She sobbed in sheer terror, pointing a trembling finger at Luv. “It was Luv… She said his puking ruined the mood. She kicked him out… sent him to the Southside dive bars… forced him to work as a promo boy for cheap beer…” The Southside dive bars. The absolute worst, most dangerous underbelly of the city. Throwing a desperately broke, undeniably handsome man into a place like that to sell drinks was no different than tossing fresh meat into a wolf pack. My nails dug so hard into my palms they almost drew blood. “Marcus,” I said, my voice ragged. “Yes, boss.” “Activate every contact we have in this city. I want his exact coordinates in five minutes.” I didn’t take my eyes off Luv. “If he is missing a single hair on his head, I will have every breathing soul in this room dumped into the river.” Five minutes later, a convoy of three black SUVs screeched to a halt outside a neon-lit strip of Southside dive bars. I rolled down the tinted window. I spotted him immediately. He was wearing a paper-thin, ridiculous promotional t-shirt. His lips were blue from the freezing rain, and he was surrounded by a circle of tattooed thugs. Standing in the center of the mob was Derek. Lexi’s current boyfriend, and the guy who spent all four years of college burning with jealousy over Rick. Derek smirked, kicking a full crate of glass beer bottles off the table. They shattered instantly. Alcohol, rain, mud, and jagged glass flooded the pavement. “Hey, golden boy, didn’t you say you needed to hit your sales quota tonight?” Derek laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. “Get on your knees. Pick up every single piece of broken glass out of this puddle. Do that, and I’ll buy ten crates from you.” The thugs around him howled with laughter. “Kneel, pretty boy! You used to be so untouchable, right?” one of them jeered. “Remember when my girls tried to ask you out and you didn’t even look at them? Bet you never thought a few hundred bucks could buy you for the whole night now!” Rick bit his lower lip so hard it bled. His face was deathly pale. Derek leaned in close, dropping his voice. “Feel insulted? Don’t want to get your knees dirty? Fine. Walk away. But your crippled mother is getting thrown out of the ICU tonight.” Rick didn’t argue. He didn’t say a word. He simply lowered his head, and slowly bent the knees that used to be so full of pride. He knelt in the freezing mud. He reached his raw, red hands into the filthy water, picking up the jagged shards of glass one by one. Drops of blood instantly bloomed from his fingertips. The blood roaring in my ears was deafening. I wanted to step out of this car and tear every single one of them apart with my bare hands. But not yet. I needed to wait for the exact right moment to end this permanently. One of the thugs stepped forward, tipping a half-empty glass of stale beer directly over Rick’s head. “Wash your brain, pretty boy. Move faster!” Rick violently shivered as the freezing alcohol ran down his hair and into his eyes. He wiped his face blindly with the back of his arm and kept reaching for the glass. A sudden, sharp gasp escaped his lips. Derek had just stomped his heavy combat boot directly onto the back of Rick’s hand, driving the broken glass deep into his flesh. “Oh, my bad. Didn’t see you there,” Derek sneered, twisting his heel into the wound for good measure. Rick shook uncontrollably from the agony. But he didn’t pull his hand away. He slowly looked up, his eyes bloodshot, staring dead into Derek’s face. “It’s clean,” Rick whispered. “Ten crates. Your commission is three hundred bucks. Pay up.” Derek covered his mouth, laughing hysterically. “Three hundred bucks? Do I look like a charity?” He pulled three crumpled hundred-dollar bills from his pocket and threw them violently into Rick’s beer-soaked face. “Take it and get lost. Looking at your pathetic face makes me sick.” Rick stayed silent. He painstakingly picked the muddy bills out of the puddle, clutching them in his bleeding fist like they were his only lifeline. My chest caved in. Sophomore year, I was working in the campus cafeteria. Lexi lost five thousand dollars of the student council budget and blamed it on me. The entire class called me a thief. The dean was preparing my expulsion papers. It was Rick who kicked open the dean’s office door. He slammed a USB drive with cafeteria security footage and a police report onto the desk. “The footage proves she was in the back kitchen washing dishes! Whoever keeps spreading rumors without evidence, I’ll sue them for defamation and drag them out of this school myself!” That boy. The one who shielded me from the world, who was willing to make enemies of everyone just to clear my name. Now, he was kneeling in the dirt, letting absolute filth step on his bleeding hands for three hundred dollars. In the driver’s seat, Marcus reached for the door handle, a steel baton already gripped in his hand. “I’m going to flatten them.” “Wait,” I commanded, my eyes locked on the window. “Pulling him out of there is easy. But it doesn’t fix the root of this,” my voice dropped to an icy temperature. “Look into it. Find out exactly how he ended up selling drinks in a gutter. Find out how Luv backed him into this corner.” “Tonight, we pull this entire weed up by the roots.” The car was dead silent. A minute later, Marcus passed a tablet to the back seat. “Boss. We have the whole picture.” I took the tablet. Just one glance was enough to make the veins in my temples throb with pure, unadulterated fury. Three years ago, Luv orchestrated a massive corporate trap that bankrupt the Su family’s construction firm. The shock caused Rick’s father to suffer a massive stroke, paralyzing him and leaving the family drowning in ten million dollars of debt. Luv seized their family home. Then, she blacklisted Rick. She put out the word across the entire city: anyone who hired Rick was making an enemy of her. She systematically cut off every single path to survival he had. She wanted to drag this proud, untouchable man through the mud until he was so desperate he had no choice but to crawl into her bed. Right at that moment, the harsh ringing of a cheap, cracked cell phone pierced the cold air outside. Rick pulled the phone from his pocket with a trembling, bloody hand. The speaker was so damaged that the voice on the other end crackled loudly through the alleyway. “Mr. Su, are you paying the hundred thousand for your mother’s bypass surgery or not?” The hospital billing department sounded completely apathetic. “If the funds aren’t in the account by midnight, we have to pull her off the machines and discharge her.” Rick clutched the three bloody hundred-dollar bills, his voice breaking entirely. “Please, doctor, please just give me one more day. I’m getting the money, I swear…” The line went dead. Rick stood alone in the freezing rain. He buried his face in his bleeding hands, his thin shoulders shaking violently as he finally broke down. I stared at the last page of the dossier on my tablet. My eyes froze. It was a bank transfer receipt from seven years ago. Back when my first startup was on the verge of total collapse, when I was completely out of options, I mysteriously received a hundred-thousand-dollar “anonymous alumni grant.” I built my entire empire off that money. “Boss,” Marcus said, his voice unusually heavy. “Seven years ago, Rick dropped out of his Master’s program. He took his grandmother’s historic estate—the only thing she left him—and mortgaged it at a massive loss just to get you that hundred grand.” “He nearly tore his own family apart to do it.” A high-pitched ringing echoed in my skull. It felt like a giant, invisible hand had just crushed my heart. Even breathing tasted like blood. I took his hundred grand, brought my company back from the dead, and built a billion-dollar empire. And he hid in the shadows, paying the ultimate price for my success. Even now, while I sat at the top of the world, the man who put me there was picking up shattered glass from a gutter just to buy his mother one more day of life. Marcus checked his earpiece and turned back to me. “Boss. Our eyes on the ground say Luv left the club ten minutes ago. She’s headed to the City Hospital. She drafted an ‘exclusive companionship agreement’ and is going to force him to sign it outside the ICU.” I slowly lifted my head. The killing intent in my eyes was finally boiling over. Good. Perfect timing, Luv. “Drive. Get to the hospital,” I ordered, my tone dripping with venom. “Contact Vanguard Capital. Liquidate our reserve funds. I want a total, scorched-earth financial assault on every single asset Luv owns. Tell the legal team to meet me in the hospital lobby with the acquisition papers.” Marcus gripped the steering wheel and slammed on the gas. I watched the blurry city lights fly by, my thumb gently tracing the gold bangles in my pocket. “She scammed my mother to the brink of death.” “She forced Rick into the mud.” “Tonight, I’m cashing out every single debt she owes.” Outside the ICU at the City Hospital, Rick stood shivering, his knuckles white as he gripped the final eviction notice. The heavy doors swung open. The head surgeon walked out, holding a clipboard, his expression stern. “Rick, where is the hundred thousand? If that balance isn’t cleared by midnight, we have to pull the plug. We need the bed.” Rick’s eyes were completely bloodshot. Without a word of hesitation, he dropped straight to his knees on the sterile tile floor. “Doctor, please. I’m begging you. I’m getting the money. Tomorrow morning, I swear! Please don’t take her off life support!” The doctor sighed, shook his head, and turned back into the ward. From the end of the hallway, a slow, mocking applause echoed against the walls. Luv strolled down the corridor, puffing on a thin cigar, taking her sweet time. “Bravo! What a devoted, tragic little son.” Behind her trailed Lexi, holding a bloody tissue to her broken mouth, her eyes full of sick vindication. “Tsk, tsk. Look at the untouchable prince now, begging on his knees like a stray dog,” Lexi mumbled through her swollen lips. “If you hadn’t played so hard to get back then and just slept with Luv, you wouldn’t be crying on the floor.” Luv stopped right in front of Rick, staring down at him like he was dirt. Smack. Ten thick, freshly wrapped stacks of hundred-dollar bills hit Rick square in the face. The cash scattered across the floor, soaking up the filthy rainwater dripping from his clothes. Next, Luv tossed a glossy hotel keycard and a legal contract into the pile of money. “I’m out of patience, Rick.” Luv blew a cloud of smoke into his face, using the pointed toe of her designer heel to tap the contract. “Sign the companionship agreement. Take the keycard. Go up to the penthouse, wash that filth off your body, and wait for me in bed.” “Pick up this hundred grand from the floor, one bill at a time, and you can buy your dying mother a few more days.” Rick slowly lifted his head. Tears of absolute humiliation spilled over his eyelashes. “You stole my family’s company. You caused my father’s stroke. Aren’t you afraid of karma, Luv?” “Karma?” Luv threw her head back and laughed frantically. She leaned down, grabbed a handful of Rick’s wet hair, and yanked his face close to hers. “In this city, I am karma!” “You think you’re still some precious golden boy? You’re cheaper than a street escort right now! Me spending a hundred grand to screw you is charity!” Lexi chimed in from the side. “Exactly! Just sign the damn paper! Your mom is about to flatline in there! You really think your precious pride is worth more than her life?” The hallway fell dead silent. Rick turned his head, looking through the ICU window at his mother, hooked up to a dozen breathing tubes. The heart monitor beeped so faintly it sounded like it was already fading. He had no way out. He closed his eyes. Silent tears hit the floor. To save her, he swallowed every last ounce of his pride, completely breaking the spine he had kept straight for so long. Kneeling on the tiles, he reached out a trembling, bloody hand toward the dirty money and the escort contract. Right as his fingertips brushed the paper. A warm, firm hand reached out from the air and clamped down on his wrist like a vise. Rick violently flinched, his head snapping around in sheer disbelief. I stared down at him. I looked at his hollowed-out cheeks, and the endless, crushing despair swimming in his eyes. The fire in my chest burned through the last thread of my sanity. I forcefully pulled him up and shoved him safely behind me. I raised my chin, my eyes locking onto Luv like the barrel of a loaded gun. “The hundred grand.” “I’m paying it.”

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When I saved a suffocating kid on the side of the road, I accidentally cracked one of his ribs. Instead of an ounce of gratitude, his mother dragged me to the police, insisting I committed intentional assault and forcing me to pay twenty thousand dollars in damages. When I initially refused, she launched a massive smear campaign online. She painted me as a sadistic medical worker who deliberately harmed children, leading to my termination and a relentless wave of cyberbullying. But karma only took two months to circle back. When her son choked and turned blue a second time, she fell to her knees, sobbing and begging for my help. I just turned and walked away. I told her I couldn’t afford a second assault charge. … After working overtime for two days straight, I was dragging my exhausted feet through the courtyard of my apartment complex. Suddenly, a loud crowd gathered just up ahead, buzzing with panic. I quickened my pace. In the center of the circle, a well-dressed woman was clutching a little boy, screaming her lungs out. “Somebody help! Please, somebody save my baby!” “I am begging you, he is dying!” The little boy in her arms was turning a horrifying shade of violet. His tiny hands and feet thrashed wildly in the air. Crumbly bits of snack food were smeared around his mouth. He was choking. Total airway obstruction. My heart dropped. I sprinted right through the crowd. “Did anyone call 911?” “I did! They are not here yet!” The mother was a frantic mess, her face completely covered in tears and snot. The kid was already fading. His limbs went limp, dropping dead to his sides. He was seconds away from slipping past the point of no return. I gritted my teeth. There was no time to second-guess. I snatched the boy from her arms, flipped him over my thigh, positioned the heel of my palm right between his shoulder blades, and delivered sharp, forceful upward thrusts. “Be gentle! You are hurting him!” I ignored the mother’s hysterical shrieking and thrust four, five times in rapid succession. Finally, a sticky mass of fruit jelly shot out of the boy’s mouth and splattered onto the pavement. The kid immediately broke into a loud, gasping wail. I let out a massive breath of relief. But as my palm rested against the boy’s chest, I felt a very faint, sickening crack beneath the skin. My stomach plummeted. Before I could even open my mouth, the mother lunged forward and snatched him back. “Baby! Mommy is here! You are safe, you are safe!” She held him tight, laughing and crying all at once, kissing his face over and over. Then she looked up at me. “Thank you! Oh my god, thank you so much!” “I am Brenda. If you ever need anything, anything at all, you come find me. You saved his life!” Brenda grabbed my hands, showering me with endless gratitude. The little boy cried for a bit before his wails turned into whimpers of “It hurts.” He was barely three years old. He couldn’t articulate exactly what was wrong. Brenda’s newly settled nerves spiked right back up. She frantically checked him over. “Sapper, baby, what is wrong? Where does it hurt?” She looked up at me with panicked eyes. “Is something else wrong with him?” I looked right at her. “I had to use the Heimlich maneuver, and if you don’t use enough force, the obstruction won’t dislodge.” “You need to take Sapper to the ER for an X-ray right now. I might have fractured one of his ribs.” Brenda’s face instantly went pale. She scooped Sapper up into her arms. “I am taking him to the hospital right now. I will properly thank you when we get back!” Just as she said that, the ambulance sirens blared as the rig pulled into the complex. Brenda rushed Sapper into the back of the ambulance, and they sped off. When I finally got back to my apartment, I felt a warm sense of comfort. I had saved a life today. All those emergency response drills at the clinic had actually paid off. That evening, Brenda and her husband, Gary, showed up at my door with a premium fruit basket and an expensive bottle of wine. “We owe you everything, Sylvia! It was pure chaos yesterday, and we didn’t get to thank you properly!” Brenda was overwhelmingly warm and affectionate. Gary nodded vigorously beside her. “Absolutely! You ever need a favor, you just say the word. I have got your back!” he said, patting his own chest proudly. I smiled and told them it was no problem at all. I thought they were decent, upstanding people who knew how to be grateful. I had no idea that just three days later, my pure act of kindness would result in a nightmare that nearly ruined my life. 1 On the afternoon of the third day, I was at my desk at the clinic, organizing patient charts. Bang. The office door violently swung open. “Sylvia! This is bad, you need to see this!” Sophie, our new intern, rushed in. Her face was flushed bright red with panic. She shoved her phone right into my face. “Look at what is trending locally!” The headline glared back at me in bold letters. Vicious Medical Worker Intentionally Snaps Toddler’s Rib Out of Spite. It was already the top trending post on the city’s local forum. In the post, Brenda had painted herself as the ultimate victim, a helpless mother abused by a heartless, sadistic healthcare worker. Every word dripped with calculated venom. Hordes of self-righteous internet crusaders had flocked to the comments. They had already doxxed my home address and my workplace. The hate was suffocating. “A psycho like this actually works in medicine? Terrifying!” “What an absolute monster. Doing that to a tiny toddler!” The few comments pointing out that CPR often results in broken ribs were instantly buried under a landslide of toxic rage. I stared at the screen in complete disbelief. Just days ago, Brenda was practically kissing my feet in gratitude. Now she was broadcasting my face to the world, dragging my name through the mud. I felt dizzy. Did I hallucinate saving her son’s life? “Sylvia? Are you okay?” Sophie looked at me with wide, worried eyes. I had been mentoring her since she started. She knew exactly what kind of person I was, and she knew I would never do something so malicious. Before I could even formulate a response, someone knocked on the door frame. Dr. Harrison, the clinic director, walked in with a dark expression. “Sylvia, in my office. Now.” In his office, Dr. Harrison rubbed his temples, refusing to meet my eyes. “Sylvia, this situation is a massive PR disaster for the clinic.” “Until this blows over, I need to put you on unpaid leave.” “Dr. Harrison, I saved that boy’s life…” “I don’t need the details right now. Just pack up your desk and go home for the afternoon.” He turned his back to me, signaling the conversation was over. I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth ached. I couldn’t force a single word out. After years of breaking my back for this clinic, I wasn’t even given the basic dignity of an explanation. My chest felt like it was trapped in a vise. When I returned to my apartment complex, the lively chatter in the community garden completely died the second I walked in. Mrs. Higgins, my neighbor, grabbed the woman next to her, leaned in, and whispered something. The woman’s eyes immediately darted toward me, filled with undisguised shock and absolute disgust. The hushed whispers followed me all the way to my building. I felt like I was suffocating. I practically ran to my door and locked myself inside. On the second day of my suspension, Brenda and Gary showed up at my apartment. The pounding on the door was so violent the frame rattled. I threw the door open. Gary stood there, his face engorged with rage, jabbing a thick finger right at my nose. “Sylvia! You vicious bitch, what the hell is wrong with you!” Doors down the hallway cracked open as neighbors poked their heads out to watch the drama. My temper instantly spiked. “Excuse me?” “Don’t play dumb with me!” A woman I didn’t recognize shoved her way to the front, slapping a medical X-ray right against my chest. Her voice was shrill and piercing. “The doctor said my nephew’s third rib is completely fractured! You did this on purpose!” I took a deep, steadying breath. “Brenda, breaking a rib during the Heimlich maneuver is incredibly common…” “Bullshit!” Gary slammed his palm against my doorframe. “Common? You think snapping a kid’s bone in half is common? You made it severe on purpose! You were just getting off on hurting us!” I flinched, my own voice rising in defense. “I literally saved your son from choking to death! Why on earth would I want to hurt him?” “Because you are a bitter, jealous psycho!” Brenda lunged forward, grabbing the collar of my shirt. Her manicured nails dug into my neck, leaving a stinging scratch. “You couldn’t stand seeing my son happy! You wanted him dead! You are a murderer!” A couple of neighbors finally rushed over to pry her hands off me. Looking at Brenda and Gary’s rabid, blood-red faces, I felt a chilling wave of absurdity wash over me. The building manager hurried out of the elevator, trying to play peacemaker. “Let’s take this inside, folks. No need to cause a scene in the hallway.” “Take it inside?” Brenda whipped her head around and screamed at the manager. “I want everyone in this building to know exactly what kind of monster Sylvia is!” “Playing the hero in public while secretly torturing my baby! He is three years old, and she broke his ribs!” I clenched my fists. The scratch on my neck burned fiercely. “I used textbook emergency protocols! Go ask literally any ER doctor in this city if rib fractures aren’t legally protected during life-saving CPR!” Gary whipped out his phone and hit play on an audio file. “I had to use the Heimlich maneuver, and if you don’t use enough force, the obstruction won’t dislodge. I might have fractured one of his ribs.” It was my own voice from that night. “You hear that!” Gary spat, the saliva practically hitting my face. “You admitted it yourself! You knew exactly what you were doing, and you pressed down hard anyway! If that isn’t intentional assault, what is it?” My mind went completely blank. I had warned her out of genuine concern for the boy’s safety, and now she had weaponized it as a confession. Before I could even process the absolute madness of the situation, Brenda’s voice dropped into a lethal sneer. “I already called the cops. You can save your excuses for the precinct.” 2 Ten minutes later, two patrol officers arrived. Brenda shoved her phone right into the cops’ faces, playing the recording on a loop. “Look at this, Officer,” she cried. “She openly admits she knew it would break his bones, and she did it anyway. This is textbook intentional assault!” I was shaking with pure rage. I stood there and explained exactly what happened that night to the officers. “It happened right out by the street. There were a dozen witnesses! Everyone saw me save him!” Gary scoffed loudly. “Seeing you out there proves nothing! Who knows if you used the distraction to purposely crush Sapper’s chest?” Brenda squeezed out two crocodile tears, looking pitifully at the cops. “Officers, you have to get justice for my baby.” The cops were clearly exhausted by her theatrics and told us all to head down to the precinct for formal mediation. Once we were in the mediation room, Brenda threw an absolute fit, screaming and demanding financial compensation. “I don’t care about your excuses! You are paying up! Sapper is our only child, our absolute treasure, and you are going to pay for what you did!” Gary chimed in, practically salivating. “That is right! Medical bills, professional care, emotional distress, and lost wages. It comes out to exactly twenty thousand dollars. We won’t take a penny less!” “My son is going to be a CEO one day, and you traumatized him! How is he supposed to focus on his development now!” I explained the Heimlich maneuver to the two precinct mediators, even pulling up medical journals on my phone to prove my point. The mediators understood completely. They spent the next thirty minutes trying to explain the law to Brenda until they were blue in the face. They repeatedly told her this didn’t qualify as intentional assault. Brenda didn’t care. She actually threw herself onto the precinct floor, wailing so loud the walls vibrated. “I don’t want to live anymore! My baby’s ribs are snapped in half, and this murderer gets to just walk away! Is there no justice in this world!” The building manager had followed us to the precinct. All he cared about was making the noise stop. “Sylvia, look… I know you were trying to help. But the fact is, the boy’s bones are broken, and you are going to have to pay something to make this right.” He put on a sickeningly paternal tone. “Sometimes good intentions cause real damage. Just pay the money. Think of it as buying peace of mind for the parents.” I looked around the room. Gary and Brenda’s faces were twisted with undisguised greed and triumph. The manager just wanted to wash his hands of the drama. Not a single person in that room cared that I had literally saved a child from suffocating to death. Suddenly, a wave of profound exhaustion washed over me. I didn’t want to fight these parasites anymore. I just wanted to get out of that room. Under Brenda’s smug, victorious gaze, I took the pen and signed my name on the “Voluntary Compensation Agreement.” I looked up, my voice dropping to a dead, icy calm. “I looked up the law. Good Samaritan protections mean I don’t owe you a single dime for injuries caused during a life-saving rescue.” “But I am done arguing with trash like you. I can afford to lose the money, but I refuse to let you drag my life through the mud any longer.” When I got home, my phone was blowing up. Over ninety-nine unread messages in the complex’s HOA group chat. I opened it. Brenda had posted a massive voice memo. Her voice was shrill and triumphant. “Hey neighbors, I need you all to see this! Sylvia broke my son’s ribs and tried to deny it!” “I was too nice to press criminal charges. If I wasn’t so forgiving, there is no way she would have gotten off just by paying a fine!” A cascade of replies flooded in beneath it. Mrs. Higgins from the fruit stand wrote, “Oh Brenda, you are way too kind-hearted for your own good!” Mr. Franks from the bakery chimed in, “Sylvia went way over the line! What kind of adult uses that much force on a baby?” I typed out a furious explanation. The second I hit send, a notification popped up. You have been removed from this group by the admin. I threw my phone onto the table, tilting my head back to force the tears back down. Well played, Brenda. I stared blankly at the ceiling, my chest feeling like a hollowed-out icebox. Did I really commit a crime by saving a life? But lying there that night, I had no idea that Brenda’s karma would arrive far sooner than I could have ever imagined.

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At six months old, I cried nonstop. No doctor could explain it. Desperate, my wealthy parents hired a baby whisperer who claimed she could translate infant thoughts. The moment she entered, she diagnosed me: a splinter in my toe. My parents checked—she was right. They trusted her blindly after that. Months later, I refused my mother’s milk. The whisperer told them, “She says you’re not her real mother. She’ll steal your fortune for her real parents and wishes you’d die soon.” Believing her, my parents cast me out and brought home their real daughter. I was sent to a run-down trailer park, where neglect and hunger defined my childhood. At ten, I died from abuse. When I opened my eyes, I was back on the day the whisperer first arrived. This time, after they removed the splinter, I screamed even louder. 1 “Ma’am, the baby is crying because of a tiny wooden splinter lodged in her right big toe,” Martha said politely, standing by the nursery doorway. Brian skeptically removed my sock and indeed found the tiny, almost invisible speck of wood. “Amazing. You just stood by the door and glanced from afar,” Eleanor remarked, her voice filled with relief. “And you knew Jenny had a splinter thinner than a strand of hair?” “No wonder she is the most sought-after nanny in elite circles,” Brian said with a small smile. “She actually has real talent.” The ambient noise pulled my consciousness back to reality. I tried to speak, but only a baby’s high-pitched wail came out. I looked at my tiny, chubby hands and feet. I had been reborn. In my past life, my memories began in a desolate backwater town. I had no mother, only a father named Silas, who was a hopeless gambler. Whenever he lost a bet, he beat me. I lived hand-to-mouth, never knowing when my next meal would come. By the age of ten, I was smaller than a healthy six-year-old. When I turned twelve, Silas’s debts piled up so high he sold me to a local loan shark. I fought back when the man tried to touch me, cracked my skull against a table corner, and died in the dark. Only after my death did my infant memories return. I realized I was born into a life of luxury. Because of a clever con artist, I was labeled an ungrateful, fake daughter and discarded. Seeing Martha’s face now filled me with a mixture of terror and rage. But I was too small to fight back or tell my parents the truth. All I could do was cry harder. Brian’s brow furrowed again. He stared sharply at Martha. “I thought you said she was crying because of the splinter? We took it out. Why is she crying even louder now?” I glared at Martha with all the intensity my tiny eyes could muster. If only you could actually hear me, you miserable fraud. I would curse you to hell. In my past life, my spirit had hovered over my biological home after my death. I saw the real daughter grown up. She looked exactly like Martha. My parents eventually grew suspicious, conducted a DNA test, and uncovered the truth. But they were too soft-hearted. Even in their rage, they could not bring themselves to punish the girl they had raised for eighteen years. In the end, that ungrateful girl stole Brian’s company secrets and handed them to his biggest rival. Brian’s empire collapsed, and my parents’ lives became a living hell. Martha’s face flashed with a brief moment of panic. But she recovered instantly. “How strange,” she murmured, looking down at me with mock sympathy. “The young miss is saying she is crying because she despises your touch.” 2 I was so angry I flailed my tiny fists, wanting to strike her. She was already setting up the narrative of the ungrateful child. Eleanor’s face fell, her voice turning cold. “They say you are the best nanny in the city, and I paid a fortune to borrow you from the Vanderbilt family. But this is just nonsense. If you are going to keep driving a wedge between me and my daughter, get out.” Martha did not flinch. She stepped forward and gently picked me up. “I only report what the baby’s soul is whispering, ma’am.” I cried with everything I had to prove her wrong. But as Martha held me, she slyly brought a small cloth near my nose. A sweet, chemical scent filled my lungs, and a heavy drowsiness hit me instantly. Before I blacked out, I saw her lay me back down in the crib. “See? Now that you are not holding her, she has quieted down. If you do not believe me, there is nothing more I can do. I should return to the Vanderbilts; their young master is waiting.” She took three steps toward the door. Brian cleared his throat, stopping her. “Wait. Stay. We will double your salary. Just find out why Jenny is rejecting us.” Eleanor sighed, rubbing her temples. “You are right, Brian. I shouldn’t have lost my temper. Maybe she just dislikes our perfume or the scent of our clothes.” No, Dad! Don’t listen to her! Let her leave! I screamed in my head, but darkness consumed me. When I woke up, Martha was officially installed as my full-time nanny. Furious, I spat at her face when she leaned over my crib. Get away from me, you monster! Martha wiped her cheek, a cruel smirk appearing on her face. “Feisty little thing, aren’t you? Enjoy your comfortable days while they last. I won’t hold a grudge against a baby.” She leaned closer, whispering in my ear. “Do you know how hard I worked to secure a golden life for my daughter? Out of all the wealthy families, yours was the only one with a baby born on the exact same day, in the same hospital. It is a bit of a downgrade for my girl to wait, but she will get what is hers eventually.” I wailed, trying to alert my parents. It was my only weapon, but my infant body was too weak. Eleanor walked into the nursery. “What is going on?” Martha secretly pinched my thigh hard, her fingers twisting the skin. “I think the baby sensed you coming, ma’am. She was perfectly calm just a second ago.” I tried to stop crying, but the physical pain was too much. The harder she pinched, the louder I screamed. Eleanor looked at me with a complicated, hurt expression before turning away. As soon as she left, Martha drugged me again. The next day, Martha offered me a bottle of Eleanor’s pumped breast milk. The moment it touched my lips, she pinched me again. “The young miss says she finds your scent disgusting, ma’am,” Martha lied, looking regretful. Because I had always struggled with feeding, Eleanor believed her. Then Martha offered a formula she had bought. I clamped my jaws shut, but Martha used the drug again. In my semi-conscious state, she forced the bottle down my throat. “See, ma’am? She has no problem with formula.” This happened repeatedly until my parents trusted her completely. Eleanor grew more anxious by the day. One evening, she asked Brian, “Why does our baby hate us so much?” Brian looked at Martha. “Has she said anything else? Is it our clothes? Our scent?” Martha knew her moment had come. She dropped to her knees, looking terrified. “Actually, the young miss has said some things. I didn’t dare repeat them because they were so shocking. But she has repeated them so many times, I am certain of what she is saying.” At Brian’s nod, she continued. “She says she hates your touch because you are not her real parents. She says when she grows up, she will take your wealth to honor her real family. And she wishes you would both die soon so she can inherit everything.” 3 In my past life, those words became a thorn in my parents’ hearts. Even after finding their real daughter, they initially wanted to keep me. But Martha’s relentless psychological dripping wore them down. Later, she framed me for hurting the real daughter, and they finally sent me away. Now, I watched my parents anxiously. Brian’s expression was unreadable. Eleanor was furious. “This is ridiculous! She is six months old! Even if she weren’t ours, how could an infant say such things?” Martha remained calm and solemn. “Every soul has a script they read before reincarnating. God makes babies mute for the first year because it takes that long for the veil of forgetfulness to fully set in.” My parents did not fully believe it, but the seed of doubt was planted. Over the next few weeks, Martha kept reporting my thoughts. Most were trivial things, like which toys I liked or which clothes I preferred. But she masterfully slipped in poison. “The young miss says your real daughter is starving in a filthy backwater town.” “She says her real father is a man named Silas, a proud, strong man.” “She seems happy today. She says your real daughter is about to be beaten to death by her gambling father, and then no one will compete with her.” My parents looked at me with growing distress. Martha kept me isolated. Whenever they tried to get close, she found a way to make me cry. Slowly, Eleanor broke. “Brian, what if it is true? Let’s just run an investigation. We have nothing to lose. But if our real daughter is out there…” Brian agreed and sent his assistant to investigate. Very quickly, they tracked down a baby girl of my exact age living with a gambler named Silas in a rural trailer park. The moment they brought the real daughter back, they ran a DNA test. The results came back that afternoon; she was a perfect match. 4 The moment the results were revealed, Eleanor wept, clutching the baby girl, whom they named Daisy. “My poor baby, you have suffered so much.” I lay in my crib nearby. Eleanor did not even look at me. Brian, being cautious, ordered an investigation into how the swap happened. The assistant quickly reported back that a negligent nurse at the hospital had mixed up the bassinet tags. With that, Brian’s doubts vanished. He held Eleanor and Daisy close. “We are whole now.” Martha stood behind them, barely concealing her triumphant smirk. She had successfully secured a life of infinite wealth for her daughter. I cried, terrified. Was history repeating itself? My crying drew my parents’ attention. “Jenny has been with us for months,” Eleanor said softly, looking conflicted. “We aren’t strapped for cash. We can afford to raise her too. Let’s keep her.” Martha chimed in immediately. “Have you forgotten what she said? She is a danger to this house!” Brian sighed. “If what you say is true, the forgetfulness will kick in soon. She is just a baby. We will raise her right.” Martha paled. She knew that as long as I stayed, my physical resemblance to my parents would eventually expose the truth. Over the next few days, I did everything I could to crawl away whenever Daisy was near, depriving Martha of any opportunity to frame me. Frustrated, Martha finally lost her patience. One afternoon, while Eleanor was in her room and Brian was in his study, Martha grabbed my hand and tried to force my fingernails into Daisy’s skin. I clenched my fists tight, refusing to scratch her. Seeing that Daisy wasn’t crying, Martha grew desperate. She grabbed my hand, squeezed my fingers, and used her own sharp nail to slice a deep gash into Daisy’s arm. Daisy screamed in pain. Martha wailed at the top of her lungs. “Brian! Eleanor! Help!” My parents rushed into the nursery. Martha was kneeling, cradling a crying Daisy. “I walked in and saw Jenny clawing at Daisy! She looked so vicious, not like a baby at all! She was screaming in her mind that she wanted to kill Daisy so she could keep her place as the sole heiress!” Eleanor whispered, “Is she truly born evil?” I flailed desperately. No! That is not what happened! This was my last chance. If I was sent away now, I would die. Brian closed his eyes and sighed. “Send her away.” Martha beamed, reaching down to grab me. And then, I summoned every ounce of infant strength I had, and threw myself over the edge of the crib. The corner of the wooden rail snagged my romper, tearing it wide open. Revealing a torso covered in dark, purple bruises.

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I am a simple, hardworking corporate drone. After a long, agonizing, and entirely unrequited crush on my boss, I had a mild, petty meltdown. So, I stole his beloved pet snake. Surprisingly, the little thing was incredibly affectionate. It wasn’t shy at all. I kept it for a few days. Then, strange glowing text suddenly floated right in front of my eyes, like live-stream chat comments: [Where did this random background character come from? That little snake he’s holding is actually the Snake King, capable of taking human form.] [Once the Snake King gets through his mating cycle, he’s probably going to eat this nobody alive, leaving nothing but bones.] A cold sweat broke out across my back. I immediately tied the little snake into a neat, firm knot. That very night, I drove three hours into the countryside and dumped it in the middle of nowhere. The next morning. My boss, who was always impeccably dressed and intensely serious, walked into the office looking like a total wreck. His hair was a bird’s nest, and dark circles bruised the skin under his eyes. When someone asked him what happened, he gritted his teeth and growled: “I fell asleep, and when I woke up, I realized someone had dumped me in the woods.” 01 When Gary said those words, the entire conference room fell into a dead, suffocating silence. No one dared to breathe. “Ha, haha, Mr. Ford, you sure have a wild sense of humor,” someone finally piped up, desperately trying to break the ice. “Luke, did you sleep well last night?” Gary turned his gaze toward me, his voice cutting through the room like a sudden chill. My heart leaped into my throat, and my mouth hung open. “Huh?” Gary let out a cold snort and looked away, completely ignoring me from that moment on. I blinked, utterly baffled. Beside me, a coworker nudged my arm with his elbow. “Did you piss off Mr. Ford?” I gave him my most innocent look. “No way.” Could he have found out that I was the one who swiped his snake? But according to those floating comments, that gorgeous little serpent was dangerous. Gary should honestly be thanking me for saving his life. “And here I thought you finally grew some balls and snuck into Mr. Ford’s bed,” my coworker whispered, a sleazy grin spreading across his face. I stomped on his foot with all my might. “Shut up. If I ever decide I’m tired of living, maybe I’ll consider it.” Suddenly, a freezing glare locked onto the two of us. I looked up, meeting a pair of breathtakingly beautiful, icy eyes. Gary spoke, his voice dropping to a low, commanding register: “Everyone else is dismissed. Luke, stay behind.” 02 Dozens of suggestive, knowing looks shot toward me, making me feel like I was sitting on a bed of nails. I squirmed as the room slowly emptied. Once the last person left, I stood up on trembling legs. Hoping a smile might soften whatever blow was coming, I forced my lips into a polite curve: “Mr. Ford, is there something you need?” Gary walked slowly to the massive floor-to-ceiling window, turning his back to me as he stared out at the sprawling city skyline. My chest thundered with anxiety. I didn’t dare utter a single sound. After what felt like an eternity, Gary spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “Do you hate me?” “Um, what?” I choked on my own spit, coughing slightly. What kind of bizarre, loaded question was that? Gary’s shoulders trembled slightly, but he composed himself almost instantly. I took a cautious step forward. “Mr. Ford, are you alright?” He still didn’t turn around, keeping his aloof, aristocratic back to me. When he spoke, there was a faint, fragile crack in his stubborn tone: “It is nothing. You may leave.” I scratched my head, completely lost. “Oh, alright. Let me know if you need anything else, sir.” “Mhm.” I turned and walked toward the heavy mahogany door. Just as I turned, I caught his reflection in the glass of the window. For a split second, it looked like a single, quiet tear was sliding down Gary’s cheek. But he wiped it away so quickly, his face returning to its usual stoic mask, that I doubted my own eyes. What on earth? Jesus. I must be getting old. Pulling all-nighters was starting to make me hallucinate. I walked out of the office. Before I could take more than a few steps down the hallway, a sharp, high-pitched whistling sound echoed from inside, sounding exactly like an old-fashioned kettle coming to a boil. I rubbed my nose and mumbled to myself. What year was it anyway? Who still used an ancient, whistling kettle in a luxury high-rise office? Did my billionaire boss have some incredibly bizarre retro fetish? 03 It was another grueling day of being a corporate slave. Work was already exhausting enough, but Gary kept watching me with the most unsettling, eerie looks. I had to admit, a pet really did take after its owner. When Gary stared at me, he had that exact same damp, chilly, and hypnotic intensity that the beautiful little snake had. Suddenly, a heavy wave of guilt washed over me. The moment the clock struck five, I bolted out of the office, eager to drive back and retrieve the poor thing. But before I could reach the elevator, a firm, warm hand pressed down on my shoulder. “Where are you going?” A low, heated breath brushed against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. I forced a dry laugh and stepped back, subtly breaking his grip. “Mr. Ford, this is personal business.” With that, I took advantage of his brief moment of hesitation and hurried away. I had no idea what was wrong with him lately. He was acting completely out of character. … After a few hours of navigating traffic, I finally made it back to the wooded outskirts where I had abandoned the snake the previous night. Because I had been worried about it getting hurt, I had actually put it in a small wire cage and hidden it safely under some bushes. But now, the wire door was wide open, and the cage was completely empty. I spent hours searching, digging through the dirt with my bare hands. By the time I stopped, I was covered in dust, and my shirt was soaked through with sweat. It wasn’t until the sky turned pitch black that I finally gave up. Smelling like a swamp, I checked into a cheap, sketchy motel nearby just to take a quick shower before heading home. By the time I finally unlocked my apartment door, it was almost midnight. The moment the door swung open, I froze. Two glowing, glassy spheres stared back at me from the darkness. My heart nearly stopped. I fumbled for the light switch and flipped it on. There, coiled proudly right in the middle of my living room, was the very snake I had thrown away. It was a gorgeous Beauty Snake, its scales a striking pattern of brownish-gray with delicate black bands running down its spine. It sat there, coiled tightly like a tiny king, holding its head high and staring at me with undeniable authority. I rubbed my eyes, convinced I was dreaming. “Nox!” Nox didn’t move. He just stared at me with those massive, round eyes, looking incredibly pathetic. I took a tentative step forward. Only then did Nox begin to slither toward me. He still looked visibly annoyed, his little body tense, but he slowly began to climb up my leg, wrapping himself around me. Since I had just showered, I smelled faintly of cheap drugstore body wash, and damp droplets of water still clung to my hair, occasionally dripping down onto his scales. The moment a droplet hit him, his entire body went rigid. He even stopped flicking his tongue. I didn’t know if I was imagining things, but he looked like he was about to burst into tears. I scooped him up, completely disregarding my fears, and showered his little scaly head with kisses. “I’m so sorry, Nox! You went through so much because of me. I don’t know what possessed me to dump you. Can you ever forgive me?” 04 Nox looked utterly dizzy from my sudden onslaught of affection. His vertical pupils locked onto mine, and his cool body coiled tightly around my arm, clinging to me as if his life depended on it. In an instant, all the tension left my body. I finally understood the sheer, intoxicating relief a toxic partner feels when they successfully win back their ex. I seriously wanted to slap myself for being so heartless. After a quick rinse, I took Nox into the bedroom to sleep, just like I used to. I always ran hot at night, so having his cool, smooth body draped over me felt like heaven. The moment my head hit the pillow, I drifted into a deep sleep. During the night, I had a vivid, strange dream. I dreamed a man had broken into my room. He stood right beside my bed, watching me. The moonlight filtering through the blinds was too faint for me to make out his face. “Luke, I don’t care if you have someone else out there,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I don’t even care that you threw me away. Just, as long as you still let me come home, it is fine.” With that, he leaned down, burying his face in the crook of my neck, his entire frame shaking. Warm, wet tears soaked into my t-shirt, leaving a damp, heavy sensation against my skin. I felt a bit annoyed by the clinginess. In my half-asleep state, I tried to push him away. The figure stiffened instantly. He didn’t make a sound, nor did he pull away. He just stayed there, his tears flowing even faster, weeping with the tragic intensity of a melodrama hero. … The next morning, when I opened my eyes, the dream was still vivid. I rubbed my aching neck, my mind filled with the absurdity of the nightmare. While brushing my teeth, I caught sight of myself in the mirror and froze. There were several dark, purplish-red marks scattered across my collarbone. I pulled my collar down. The marks traced a path down my chest, disappearing beneath the waistband of my underwear. I stared at them, completely numb. Suddenly, the floating chat comments began to scroll frantically across my vision again: [Those marks were left by the Snake King! How can you still keep that thing in your house?] [This snake literally crawled all the way back from the outskirts of the city. Doesn’t that terrify you?] My body went rigid, and my hands began to tremble. From the hallway, I heard a faint, soft rustling sound. Nox poked his little head through the crack of the bathroom door, looking up at me with the most adorable, innocent expression. I stared back at him. The next second, I let out a squeal, scooped Nox into my arms, and began kissing him all over again. Stupid comments. How dare they call my precious, sweet Nox a terrifying monster? I couldn’t even begin to fathom the sheer struggle and pain my poor baby must have gone through just to find his way back to me. After cuddling him for what felt like hours, I finally set him down reluctantly. “Baby, I have to go to work to buy your food. Wait for me at home, okay?” Nox coiled into a neat circle, tilting his head as if he understood perfectly. The chat comments flashed violently: [Oh my god, this idiot has been completely hypnotized by the Snake King. He’s totally lost his mind.] [We warned you. When the Snake King gets bored of him and swallows him whole, he’s going to regret everything.] I completely ignored them. Humming a cheerful tune, I walked out the door and headed to work. 05 As I sat at my desk, my mind was entirely consumed by thoughts of Nox. To be honest, I used to be terrified of snakes. I always thought of them as cold-blooded, creepy monsters. The mere thought of their slick, cold bodies sliding against my skin used to give me goosebumps. But then, after several failed attempts to flirt with Gary, I had to accept the brutal reality. He was a straight-laced, utterly unreachable heterosexual man. That realization had triggered a brief, petty wave of madness in me. During a visit to his penthouse to retrieve a document he had left behind, I happened to spot Nox. He was resting elegantly in a custom-built terrarium, flicking his dark tongue as he stared at me. In that moment, a sudden rush of sheer audacity took over. I reached in, grabbed the snake, and stuffed him straight into my jacket pocket. The little guy had looked at me in shock, trying to squirm free, but he couldn’t break my grip. Ultimately, he just poked his tiny nose out of my pocket, looking at me with utter helplessness. Well, if I couldn’t have Gary, then I would take his, snake! But after keeping Nox for a few days, I quickly realized that snakes were actually incredibly sweet. He had an unbelievably gentle temperament. Even when I annoyed him, the worst he would do was sulk in the corner. Within an hour, he’d be slithering back, wrapping himself comfortably around my wrist. Thinking about it made my lips curl into a smile, and I started humming softly. My coworker turned to me, curious. “Luke, you’re in a great mood today.” Before I could answer, he scratched his head and muttered to himself, “Weird. Mr. Ford seems to be in a fantastic mood too. I could’ve sworn he looked ready to murder someone last night.” I shrugged. “Who knows.” Suddenly, my coworker went dead silent and sat up straight, instantly looking incredibly busy. Puzzled, I felt a familiar, rich scent wash over me, a deep, luxurious note of sandalwood and cedar. Gary’s smooth, velvety voice echoed from behind me: “Luke, come with me to my office.” 06 My entire body froze. I slowly turned around to face Gary. He was immaculately put together today, wearing his usual polite, slightly detached smile. I followed him up to the top floor, my mind racing. This was highly unusual. Why did he need to see me? And why didn’t he just have his assistant call me? Why did the CEO personally come down to fetch a low-level designer? Are billionaires really this free? Gary sat behind his massive mahogany desk, clasping his hands together in a formal gesture. “There is an industry dinner tonight. You are coming with me.” A massive question mark popped up in my head. Putting aside the fact that this was a secretary’s job, even if they needed a designer, it shouldn’t fall on a low-level draft technician like me. Seeing my silence, Gary’s brow furrowed slightly. “Why? Do you have other plans tonight?” “Well, actually,” I dragged out my words, clearly reluctant. Gary blinked. “Good. If it is nothing urgent, cancel it.” I looked at him with a miserable expression. “Mr. Ford, I don’t have any experience with these high-profile dinners. What if I mess up?” Gary completely ignored my protest, continuing smoothly, “Excellent. I will have someone send over a suit for you shortly. It’s a formal event, so you need to look the part.” … I lost track of how long I sat in front of the vanity mirror. My ass was practically numb by the time the stylist, who was working with extremely dramatic hand gestures, finally stepped back with a satisfied nod. “There. Now you actually look like you belong by Mr. Ford’s side.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m just accompanying him as an assistant, not his date. What do you mean by belonging?” The stylist gave me a thoroughly confused look. “An assistant?” “Yeah. He’s probably just bringing me along to drink on his behalf. I get how these things work.” “You don’t know shit about,” Before the stylist could finish his sentence, the door swung open. Gary stepped into the room, his sharp eyes instantly locking onto me. “Is he ready?” The stylist offered a quick, nervous smile. “All done, Mr. Ford. Are you pleased?” Gary stared at me, his gaze intense, raw, and incredibly hot. I watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down. After a long, breathless pause, he spoke softly: “I am, highly pleased.” 07 By evening, I was standing beside Gary, stepping into a grand ballroom filled with clinking crystal glasses and murmuring elites. Every other guest seemed to be paired up. If I were straight, I could easily lie to myself and pretend I was just there to be his shield against free drinks. But the problem was, I was very gay, and I actually harbored highly inappropriate feelings for my boss. Standing next to him under the warm, glittering chandeliers made me feel incredibly self-conscious. Gary gently patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry. Just stay close to me. Don’t wander off, and let me handle the rest.” “You got it, boss.” As it turned out, I had vastly overestimated my duties. Given Gary’s terrifyingly high status in the business world, absolutely no one dared to pressure him into drinking. My sole purpose seemed to be standing next to him like a piece of handsome arm candy, listening to people flatter him endlessly. I felt more like a bodyguard than an assistant. I let out a quiet yawn, thoroughly bored. Suddenly, Gary leaned in. “Luke, could you fetch me a glass of juice?” I snapped out of my daze, looking into his pale, striking eyes. “Right away, sir.” I wandered over to the drinks table and picked up a vibrant, beautifully colored cocktail that smelled sweet and fruity. When I brought it back, Gary didn’t take the glass. Instead, he leaned forward and took a sip directly from my hand. His cold fingertips brushed against my wrist, sending a jolt of electricity straight up my arm. I flinched, nearly dropping the glass. Gary suddenly choked, coughing as his brow knit in immediate disgust. “That is alcohol.” My eyes went wide. “What?” Within three seconds, a deep crimson flush crept up his neck to his ears. His gaze grew glassy and unfocused, and he slumped forward, resting his heavy forehead against my shoulder. “I, I don’t feel well.” Oh, great. I had heard rumors that Gary never touched a drop of alcohol, but I had no idea his tolerance was practically non-existent. Using every ounce of strength I possessed, I managed to drag his dead weight out to the parking lot and heave him into the back of his car. I patted his cheek gently. “Mr. Ford, where do you live?” Gary blinked lazily, murmuring a string of street names and numbers. The address sounded incredibly familiar. Wait, that was my apartment address. “Mr. Ford, that’s my place. Where is your actual home? Or can you give me your phone so I can call someone to pick you up?” Gary looked deeply offended, correcting me with absolute, drunken gravity: “That is my home.” “…” 08 There was absolutely no reasoning with a drunk. Left with no other option, I had to bring him back to my tiny apartment. I dragged him into the guest room and tossed him onto the bed, then immediately rushed out to find Nox. But no matter where I looked, under the sofa, behind the curtains, inside the cabinets, there was no sign of him. Panic seized me, and cold sweat broke out across my forehead. What if someone had broken in and stolen him? Suddenly, a heavy, dull thud echoed from the guest bedroom. I rushed back toward the sound. Gary was no longer on the bed. Instead, slithering awkwardly across the hardwood floor, was Nox. … Nox wobbled unsteadily as he made his way toward me. His massive eyes looked completely dazed. He climbed up my side, winding his way up to my shoulders, and began rubbing his little head affectionately against my neck. I stood frozen, completely paralyzed. A cold sweat drenched my shirt. Yes, Nox was still adorable. But could someone please explain to me where my six-foot-two boss had gone? As if to answer my silent question, the weight around my neck began to shift. Within seconds, the cool, scaly coils transformed, expanding until they became the solid, warm form of Gary once again. He mumbled incoherent complaints about feeling hot, his hands sliding down to wrap tightly around my waist, his fingers tugging at the belt of my trousers. I grabbed my pants with one hand and held him back by his chest with the other, my mind completely fracturing under the sheer absurdity of the situation. This couldn’t be real. “Luke, it hurts, I feel so hot.” Gary looked up at me with tear-filled, misty eyes, looking entirely defenseless. “I think, I think I’m in heat.” Right then and there, I officially confirmed that my boss was not human. Because no normal human being would ever say something like that. I tried to push him away. “Mr. Ford, I can’t help you with this. Why don’t I go find you a nice female snake?” Gary’s hand slid lower, his voice entirely too certain. “You can help me. Only you.” I blocked his wandering hands with one arm while wrapping my other arm around his waist to keep him from collapsing. But wait, if he was a snake, did that mean he had, two of, I couldn’t control my eyes. My gaze flicked downward. Before my rational mind could stop me, I swallowed hard, trying to convince myself that I was just curious. Just a little peek. It was a once-in-a-lifetime scientific inquiry. But the moment my fingers brushed against him, Gary shuddered violently. The last shred of his sanity seemed to snap, his eyes flashing a dangerous crimson as he pinned me flat against the mattress.

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1 Woke at night with severe cramps, I messaged our group chat for help before passing out. When pings woke me, my boyfriend Julian and best friend Clara had swapped over a hundred messages. My plea for ibuprofen lay ignored at the bottom. They chatted wildly, debating the World Cup, griping about work, planning a Northern Lights trip. Curled under my duvet, I scrolled up. Last month, I’d cried here about my boss throwing coffee on me. No reply. But when Clara posted a puppy video, Julian blew up the chat. Last weekend, I asked about lunch. They debated games until 3 AM, ignoring me. Suddenly, I recalled Julian’s words creating this chat: “Great, right? Those who love you most sharing your joy and pain.” Notifications kept popping. I tapped “Leave Group.” They never cared. I was done with a life where my voice only echoed in emptiness. … When the sky began to turn a bruised gray, the pain woke me up again. My phone was completely dead silent. Not a single private message from either of them. I leaned heavily against the wall, dragging myself to the bathroom. The face looking back at me in the mirror was terrifyingly pale. Right after I splashed freezing water on my face, Julian called. “Wake up, lazybones. Come downstairs, we’re going to be late for work.” I grabbed a random sweater, threw it on, and stumbled down the stairs, my legs feeling like jelly. Julian rolled down the window of his sedan. Clara was already sitting in the passenger seat, aggressively typing on her laptop balanced on the dashboard. I pulled open the back door and shivered violently as the blasting AC hit my cold sweat. “What took you so long? The newsroom is swamped today.” Julian put the car in drive while Clara turned around, handing me an iced Americano. “Thanks for suffering through this early commute with us every day, Chloe!” I hesitated for a second, then quietly set the iced coffee down in the cupholder. Ever since the incident where my boss humiliated me by throwing coffee on my shirt, I hadn’t been able to drink it. But they weren’t there to see it happen, and they clearly didn’t care to remember. During the drive, Clara continued typing furiously while bantering back and forth with Julian. I sat alone in the backseat, pressing my burning forehead against the freezing glass window just to keep the agonizing cramps at bay. Their voices began to blur into white noise, as if a thick, invisible glass wall had slammed down between the front seats and the back. Clara bounced rapidly from topic to topic, and no matter what she brought up, Julian effortlessly volleyed it back. More and more of their conversation became an inside joke I couldn’t understand. “That Italian place was incredible.” “God, the new editor is such a nightmare.” A sudden thought hit me like a physical blow. When was the last time Julian and I talked like that? I honestly couldn’t remember. Only when we pulled up to the media building did Clara suddenly let out a dramatic gasp. “Oh no! I didn’t finish writing the closing segment!” Julian smoothly backed into a parking space and said casually, “That’s what happens when you stay up all night watching soccer. Just have Chloe finish it for you. She’s just doing desk work today anyway.” Clara’s face lit up. She shoved her laptop directly into my chest and pressed her hands together in a pleading gesture. “You’re the absolute best, Chloe! Please, please, please? I’ll buy you boba later!” “I don’t think I can—” Before I could even finish my sentence, she gave me a lightning-fast hug, spun around, and sprinted toward the glass doors of the building. Julian was right behind her. He pressed a completely absentminded kiss to my forehead and jogged after her. I had watched them walk away like this a hundred times. At first, I was the one who asked Julian to keep an eye on Clara because she was new to the field team. Then, I was the one standing on the sidewalk, watching them drive off together for breaking news coverage. And now, somehow, I had become the ghost they left behind. At noon, right after I emailed Clara the finished segment, a warm boba tea slid across my desk. A coworker sitting nearby let out a sharp whistle. “Well, well. If it isn’t the golden couple of the newsroom, back from the trenches.” Julian shot him a freezing glare. “Watch your mouth.” He leaned against the edge of my cubicle, his long fingers naturally reaching out to massage my temples. “Is it that time of the month? You looked like you were going to pass out this morning.” I gave a weak nod and wrapped my cold fingers around the plastic cup. The tea was already ice cold. A memory from our first year together suddenly flashed through my mind. Back then, Julian was constantly traveling for field reports. I texted him one night: My cramps are killing me. Going to sleep early. Less than two hours later, he was pounding on my apartment door, completely drenched in sweat. His arms were overflowing with heating pads, three different kinds of painkillers, and a steaming thermos of ginger tea he had somehow managed to brew on the way. That winter was brutally cold, but the heat radiating from his palms made me feel entirely safe. Before I could fully process the memory, Julian pulled his hands away. He was staring at his phone, typing a rapid response to someone. He finished his text, glanced down at me, and frowned. “Why are you wearing a giant hoodie today?” “Didn’t I mention in the group chat yesterday that we’re having dinner with the station director tonight? You can’t wear sweatpants to that.” I blinked at him. So he genuinely hadn’t noticed that I had left the group chat. “I left the group chat. If it’s about work, just message me on Slack.” The casual smile instantly vanished from Julian’s face. He let out a heavy, patronizing sigh. “Seriously? Why? Because you’re on your period and the notifications are annoying you?” “If you’re in a bad mood, take it out on me. Block my number if you have to. Don’t throw a tantrum and leave the group chat. Clara is your best friend. Do you know how hurt she’s going to be when she sees that?” His phone pinged loudly. He glanced at the screen, immediately turned on his heel, and started walking away, tossing a frustrated sentence over his shoulder. “Whatever. If you’re sick, just stay at your desk. Clara and I are going to lunch. I’m adding you back to the chat later, and you are not allowed to leave again. Understood?” I sat silently in my rolling chair, the agonizing cramps twisting my stomach into tight knots. I dry-swallowed the ibuprofen I had Postmated for myself and dropped the freezing boba tea straight into the trash can. Then, I clicked open a half-finished Word document on my desktop. Application for Overseas Correspondent. My phone started buzzing relentlessly. When I finally packed up to leave, the group chat had over 99 unread messages. The very last one was from Julian, specifically tagging me. [Clara told me about those psychotic business owners targeting female reporters lately. I don’t feel safe letting you live alone right now. I’m packing a bag and moving into your apartment tonight.] I had literally sent them a news alert about that exact same stalker situation three days ago in this very chat. But they had been too busy debating the plot of a Marvel movie to acknowledge it. I typed a quick, [No need,] locked my screen, and climbed into the back of my Uber. After staring at the passing traffic for a minute, I unlocked my phone and added one last sentence. [I applied for the overseas correspondent position today. I might be leaving the country soon.] I hit send. Not a single new message popped up. Watching the blurry city lights streak past the window, I suddenly thought about my first year at the station. We were all rookies back then. Julian and Clara were assigned to the chaotic field team, and I was the quiet copy editor working behind the scenes. Every time Julian came back from a grueling shoot, he brought me a hot chocolate. Every time Clara struggled with an opening hook, she would roll her chair over to my desk and ask me how to inject more emotion into the script. When the three of us won our very first industry journalism award, Julian picked me up and spun me around while laughing hysterically. Clara shoved the heavy glass trophy directly into my hands. She promised we were going to conquer the entire media world together. We did conquer it. Only, they were the ones standing in the spotlight, and I was just the shadow. When the Uber dropped me off, I looked up and saw the lights in my apartment were on. I assumed I had been in such a rush this morning that I forgot to hit the switch. But when I unlocked the front door, I froze. A massive suitcase was splayed open in the middle of my living room, with men’s clothes thrown haphazardly all over my clean sofa. There was the sound of chopping coming from the kitchen. Julian poked his head out, holding a spatula. “You’re back? The soup is almost done.” Clara walked out right behind him, carrying a plate of appetizers, a bright, excited smile plastered across her face. “Chloe, you’re finally home! Julian said you guys were officially moving in together, so I bought a bunch of groceries to celebrate. Surprise!” I stood paralyzed in the entryway, feeling like I had walked into an absurd sitcom. But Clara had already spun back into the kitchen, leaning over the stove next to Julian. “Don’t add the green onions to the soup. Chloe hates them.” “It’s fine, she can just pick them out. I love green onions.” “Let’s simmer it for another ten minutes, the meat isn’t tender enough yet.” “Alright, whatever you say, chef.” The two of them bounced off each other with effortless chemistry, looking exactly like a pair of ridiculously in-love newlyweds. It made me feel like an absolute stranger intruding in my own home. That familiar, suffocating wave of exhaustion crashed over me. I didn’t even bother taking my shoes off. I walked straight to the kitchen doorway. “I never agreed to let you move in.” Julian turned around, his eyes wide with genuine confusion. “What is your problem now?” “My problem is that this is my apartment. Who gave you permission to come inside?” The air in the room instantly turned to ice. Clara rushed over, reaching out to grab my arm, but I smoothly stepped back to avoid her touch. She nervously glanced at Julian’s dark expression before frantically trying to explain. “Chloe, please don’t be mad. Julian was just terrified that you were living alone with that stalker on the loose. If I knew you were going to be this upset, I never would have let him come over.” CLANG. Julian slammed the heavy metal spatula into the cast-iron skillet. “Chloe, are you done throwing your little tantrum?” “I am bending over backwards out of pure concern for your safety, moving all my stuff here just to protect you, and this is the attitude I get?” Julian’s face twisted into a mask of pure, ugly frustration. “What the hell has been wrong with you lately? You’re constantly snapping at everyone, you act like a child and leave the group chat, and now you’re kicking us out of your house? Clara is your best friend. I am your boyfriend. Do you really think we’re trying to ruin your life?” “Julian, please stop yelling. Chloe is just having a bad week because of her period, you know how it gets.” I stood there, watching them play their perfectly choreographed good-cop-bad-cop routine, and I felt so unbelievably tired. Tired beyond the 14-hour editing shifts. Tired beyond the agonizing cramps. I didn’t scream at him like I would have a year ago. I just calmly pointed my finger toward the front door. “We are breaking up. Get out of my house right now.” Clara took a step forward, trying to grab my hand, but Julian viciously yanked her back by her wrist. “Don’t even bother with her, Clara. She’s acting like a rabid dog right now.” By the time I finished throwing his clothes into his suitcase and scrubbing their mess out of my kitchen, it was 2 AM. The next morning, I walked into the main conference room for the overseas correspondent selection. The first thing I saw was Julian leaning over the table, aggressively pointing at something on Clara’s script. When they noticed me, they both froze. “Chloe? What are you doing here?” I pulled out a chair in the very back row and sat down, keeping my eyes locked on the whiteboard. “I sent a message in the group chat yesterday.” The silence that followed was incredibly uncomfortable. Julian cleared his throat awkwardly, then immediately turned his back to me and went back to whispering with Clara. Clara mumbled something in response and refused to look in my direction. The selection process began. When it was Clara’s turn to present, Julian actually gave her a thumbs-up from the front row. She hadn’t even read two sentences before I narrowed my eyes. The script she was holding was the rough draft I had ghostwritten for her yesterday. And it was painfully obvious she hadn’t bothered to read it beforehand. When she reached the emotional climax of the story, she literally read the director’s notes I had written in parentheses out loud. A wave of hushed, mocking whispers rippled through the audience of seasoned journalists. Before she could awkwardly stumble to the end, Director Vance, the head of the department, slammed his hand on the table, picked up his half-full coffee cup, and hurled the liquid directly at her. “You dare bring this garbage onto my stage? You are a complete embarrassment to this network!” Seeing the dark coffee stains splattered across Clara’s pristine white blouse, my instinct kicked in. I reached for the zipper of my jacket, preparing to run up there and cover her. But Julian was much faster. He vaulted onto the stage, throwing his body in front of Clara like a human shield. “Director, even if her script was flawed, you have absolutely no right to throw coffee at your staff.” My fingers locked in a death grip around the fabric of my jacket. The last time the Director publicly humiliated someone by throwing coffee, it was me. I had cried in our group chat about it for hours. Neither of them even asked if I was okay. Julian’s eyes pierced through the crowd and locked directly onto mine. His look was an aggressive, unmistakable command. The message was crystal clear: Stand up. Take the blame for her. This wasn’t the first time he demanded this. Whenever Clara mispronounced a foreign dignitary’s name on live television, I was the one who marched into the control room and claimed I had printed the phonetic spelling wrong on the teleprompter. Julian always justified it by saying, You work behind a desk, Chloe. It doesn’t affect your career. Clara is the face of the network. But this time, staring straight into his demanding eyes, I slowly shook my head. Julian opened his mouth to bark an order, but Clara suddenly buried her face in her hands and sprinted out of the conference room sobbing. He shot me a look of pure, venomous disgust and chased after her without a second thought. The rest of the room turned to stare at me. Some eyes were curious, some were judging, and some were hiding malicious smirks. The moderator quickly restored order, and the presentations continued. The second I stepped out of the conference room after my presentation, Julian aggressively grabbed my arm and dragged me into the stairwell. Clara was standing against the concrete wall, shivering, wearing his oversized blazer. Her eyes were swollen red. Julian’s voice trembled with barely contained fury. “Are you happy now, Chloe?” “It’s just an overseas assignment! Was it really necessary to sit there and watch her get publicly humiliated? We have been friends for years, and you just threw her to the wolves without blinking.” I let out a sharp, cold laugh and looked him dead in the eyes. “She used a script I wrote. She didn’t bother to read the notes. Why the hell should I take the bullet for her incompetence?” “Because she doesn’t know how to write that kind of copy!” Julian’s voice echoed violently off the concrete walls. “You know scriptwriting is her weak spot! Why didn’t you sit down and review it with her before she went up there?” He stepped directly into my personal space, grabbing my wrist again, trying to physically pull me toward the director’s office. “You are going to walk in there right now, tell Vance you are withdrawing your application, and give the spot to Clara.” I almost laughed out loud. “On what grounds?” “Because she needs it ten times more than you do!” Julian glared down at me, speaking as if he were explaining basic math to a toddler. “Do you have any idea how psychotic that stalker is right now? Clara is a female reporter out on the streets every single day. She is terrified for her life. You get to sit in a secure office behind a desk. Why are you trying to steal her only ticket out of the city?” “Julian, please stop.” Clara weakly tugged on his sleeve, then turned to me, forcing a pathetic, trembling smile. “Chloe, please don’t be mad at him. He’s just stressed.” She reached out and tried to loop her arm through mine, exactly like she used to do when we were college freshmen. “It’s fine, it’s totally fine. It was my fault for not prepping enough. I don’t blame you.” “Let’s just go. We can ride in Julian’s car, I’ll drop you off at your place, and you guys can talk this out. No more fighting, okay?” I ripped my arm out of her grip, feeling incredibly disgusted by the stranger standing in front of me. This was the same Clara who used to passionately defend me, screaming at Julian for prioritizing his job over my feelings. I didn’t even acknowledge them. I turned my back and walked straight toward the elevators. A heavy hand slammed against the elevator doors just as they were closing. Julian shoved his way inside. Clara practically dragged me by my coat into the parking garage. “Chloe, stop making a scene. We can talk about this when we get to the car.” But the moment we reached Julian’s sedan, Clara smoothly opened the back door for me, then confidently slid into the passenger seat. Julian glanced at me in the rearview mirror, his brow deeply furrowed, but he kept his mouth shut. Seconds later, both of their phone screens lit up. I watched their thumbs fly across the keyboards, followed by a secretive, knowing glance shared between the front seats. I leaned my head against the cold glass and completely shut them out. The car was speeding down a narrow alleyway toward Clara’s apartment building when a black SUV suddenly aggressively swerved, blocking the entire road. Julian slammed on the brakes. My head violently slammed into the back of Clara’s seat. My vision exploded into a dizzying blur of white stars. A split second later, a massive brick shattered the windshield. “Get out of the car, you parasitic scumbags!” Three large men wielding steel pipes started marching toward the sedan. Julian didn’t hesitate for a microsecond. He kicked his door open, grabbed Clara by the waist, and bolted out of the car. I stumbled out of the backseat, my vision swimming, my legs completely numb. But Julian already had his arm wrapped tightly around Clara, sprinting toward the main street with terrifying speed. He frantically flagged down a passing taxi and shoved Clara into the back seat. “Chloe! Clara is the one on television, they recognize her face! I have to get her out of here!” The taxi door slammed shut. One of the men with a pipe lunged forward and grabbed me violently by the collar of my jacket. “You’re rolling with them, right? Perfect. You’ll do.” I thrashed wildly, kicking and screaming, but my body felt completely hollow. With the absolute last ounce of strength I had, I smashed the emergency SOS button on my phone before the darkness swallowed me whole. My final thought, before I lost consciousness, was sickeningly clear. Of course. No matter what the situation is, I am always the one left behind to die. When I finally opened my eyes, the harsh fluorescent lights of a hospital room blinded me. Julian was standing at the foot of my bed, looking exhausted and carrying a heavy expression of guilt. Clara was standing next to him, her eyes puffy and red from crying. The second I blinked, Clara rushed to my bedside, her voice choking on dramatic sobs. “Chloe! Thank God you’re awake! We were so terrified!” Julian took a hesitant step forward, his voice completely devoid of its usual arrogance. “I am so sorry, Chloe. Everything happened so fast. That guy recognized Clara from the broadcasts, and I was terrified he was going to kill her, so my instinct was just to…” I turned my head away, staring blankly at the sterile white wall as a single tear slipped into my hairline. “We are done…” Before I could finish my sentence, Julian’s eyes darted to Clara’s forearm. The edge of a white bandage was slightly peeling off. “What happened to your arm? I told you not to move it.” “It’s fine, it just snagged on my coat. Honestly, I’m just terrified that psycho is going to leak our location to the network.” Julian reached out, instinctively and gently pressing the adhesive tape back onto her skin. His tone was casual and intimately protective. “I already called security. You’re completely off field duty for the next week. I’ll write all your scripts…” Lying in that hospital bed, watching their flawless, sickeningly sweet dynamic play out in real time, I suddenly felt incredibly bored. My phone vibrated sharply on the bedside table. It was an automated email from HR. Overseas Correspondent Application: APPROVED. I pushed my weight onto my elbows, sat up, and reached over to rip the IV needle out of my own hand. Julian finally snapped out of his trance, lunging forward to grab my wrist. “What the hell are you doing?” I looked him dead in the eyes and said it loud and clear. “Julian, I am breaking up with you. I refuse to spend another second of my life in the same room as the two of you.” They both froze in shock. Clara’s eyes instantly welled up with fresh tears. “Chloe, please don’t do this. Last night was a horrible, freak accident. Julian didn’t mean to leave you…” The guilt instantly evaporated from Julian’s face, immediately replaced by that familiar, suffocating irritation. “Chloe, can you stop using breaking up as a weapon every time something doesn’t go your way?” Clara frantically grabbed his bicep. “Julian, stop yelling at her. She just woke up, she has a concussion…” Julian violently shook her hand off, staring down at me with profound disappointment. “I know you took a hit yesterday, but I already apologized! How long are you going to drag this childish tantrum out?” He let out a sharp, mocking scoff, grabbed Clara by the shoulder, and stormed out of the hospital room without looking back. Julian never came back to visit me. After I was discharged, I went straight to the network headquarters to pack my belongings for the overseas deployment. As I was walking through the main lobby holding a cardboard box, I nearly collided with Julian. He stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the box. “What is this? You’re actually quitting over an argument?” “I’m taking a leave of absence. I need a break.” He let out a massive sigh of relief and casually reached out to touch my forehead. “A break is a good idea. You need to reset your mental state. Clara and I are buried in a massive investigative piece right now, but once we wrap it up, I’ll come stay with you for a few days.” He was already speed-walking toward Clara, who had just walked through the revolving doors, and he didn’t even hear my final words. “Don’t bother.” Because I will never need you again, Julian.

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