Category: English

1 Martha, our usually quiet and dutiful nanny, stood outside the nursery today and absolutely refused to leave. “Mrs. Waldorf, there is something I really hate to bring up.” “But I have spent my entire personal savings over the last two months covering things. I honestly do not have a single dollar left to buy formula for tomorrow.” I looked at her in total shock. “Didn’t Arthur give you the VIP baby boutique card I loaded with ten thousand dollars?” “A VIP card?” Martha froze, nervously twisting the hem of her apron. “Mr. Waldorf never gave me any card.” “At first, I paid for the formula and diapers out of pocket, and he would reimburse me. But lately, he keeps saying things are tight at the clinic. He either stalls or tells me he will settle up next week.” “I figured you are a respectable family and would never stiff me over baby supplies. But it has been two months, and I am out over two thousand dollars…” Hearing this, my face burned with intense humiliation. I immediately transferred three thousand dollars to Martha’s account without asking another question. Martha thanked me profusely and went to the kitchen to prep the bottles. I just stood in the hallway, my blood running completely cold. That card was a premium membership for an exclusive baby boutique, and it was linked directly to my phone number. Over the past two months, I had received more than fifty notifications for transactions on that account. Every single one was over a hundred dollars. If the card was not with our nanny, who exactly had it? Arthur was the youngest department head at the city hospital. In the eyes of all our relatives, he was the flawless, perfect husband. On Martha’s very first day working for us, I specifically handed Arthur that pre-loaded VIP card. I told him to drop it off with Martha and make sure all the baby’s supplies were charged to it. He took the card, slipped it casually into his suit pocket, and gave me a gentle smile. “Leave it to me, honey. I will handle things around the house. You just focus on resting and recovering from the delivery.” Yet here I was, hearing from Martha that she had never even seen the plastic. While I was trying to process this, I heard the front door open. Arthur was home from his shift. “Hey honey. Martha mentioned you never gave her that baby card? She has been paying for the formula out of pocket for two months.” I kept my voice entirely casual as I probed him. Arthur was hanging up his coat. His movements completely stopped for a second before he let out an awkward, forced laugh. “Oh, right. That.” “We had that massive flu outbreak at the hospital a while back. Pediatric care drafted me to help out. I was so exhausted I must have left it in one of my lab coats.” “I will dig through my locker tomorrow. The second I find it, I will give it to her.” “Don’t worry about it,” I said, closing my laptop. “I will just go to the boutique tomorrow, report it lost, and get a replacement.” “Don’t do that!” Arthur spun around instantly. His voice was entirely too loud. Seeing me stare at him with narrowed eyes, he quickly softened his tone. “I just mean there is a lot of money on that account. The replacement process is a massive headache, and it takes days to process.” “I guarantee it is just sitting in a drawer at the clinic. Let me look for it. I will definitely find it.” He walked over and wrapped his arms around my waist. “You just got off bed rest. You finally have some color back in your face. Don’t stress yourself out over something so trivial.” “Look at you. You have been exhausting yourself with the baby. You even have dark circles under your eyes.” “Do I?” “Yeah. When you were pregnant, your face was so full and glowing. You looked amazing.” He buttered me up and expertly changed the subject. I let the VIP card issue drop for the moment. But around ten o’clock that night, the baby suddenly broke out in a diaper rash, and we were completely out of his prescription cream. “Honey, I am taking your car to the pharmacy. Mine is still at the dealership for maintenance.” I shouted toward the bathroom. “Sure, keys are on the console,” Arthur replied, his voice muffled by the running shower. I got into his SUV and reached down to adjust the driver’s seat out of pure habit. My fingertips brushed against something weird tucked deep in the crevice between the leather seats. It felt like a small, slippery plastic wrapper. I pulled it out, and my breathing completely stopped. 2 It was a small, pink, lace-trimmed disposable nursing pad. It was torn open and half-used, with a highly suspicious milk stain dried onto the fabric. I knew for an absolute fact that this did not belong to me. Due to medical complications after birth, I never produced milk. We had used formula since day one. I had absolutely zero use for a product like this. Martha’s words from earlier today flashed through my mind, followed immediately by the mystery of the missing baby card. I abandoned the pharmacy trip completely. I slammed my foot on the gas and drove straight to that high-end baby boutique. Marching up to the customer service desk, I slammed my phone down on the glass counter, displaying the long list of transaction alerts. “Get your manager out here right now!” “I have not used this card a single time since I activated it. Why are you continually charging my account? Are your employees stealing customer information?” “If I do not get an explanation right this second, I am calling the police!” The store manager rushed out, looking absolutely terrified. He waved his hands frantically to calm me down. “Ma’am, I promise you that is impossible! We require the physical card for every single transaction!” “Talk is cheap. Pull the transaction logs and the security footage. Show me who used it, or I am dialing 911.” I stood my ground. Desperate to prove his store’s innocence, the manager took me straight into the security room. We matched the timestamps of the latest charges to the video feed. I finally saw the person using my money. It was a young woman wearing a loose-fitting maternity dress. She had been in the store just yesterday afternoon, loading up bags of expensive items. When she turned her face toward the camera, I got a crystal-clear look at her features. My entire body turned to stone. I knew her. She was the newly hired nurse in Arthur’s department. Bella. I had chatted with her at the hospital’s holiday gala. She had practically fawned over me, calling me “Mrs. Waldorf” in the sweetest, most innocent voice imaginable. I recorded the security footage on my phone and walked out of the boutique with a face like ice. When I pushed my front door open, Arthur was sitting in the living room playing with our sleeping baby. I walked straight up to him and shoved my phone directly into his face. I played the video of Bella at the checkout counter. “Why does a nurse from your department have my VIP card? Didn’t you say you left it in your lab coat?” The second Arthur saw the screen, all the blood drained from his face. He froze for several agonizing seconds. His eyes darted around the room as he stuttered uncontrollably. “I… I have no idea… I…” “Oh!” He slapped his forehead dramatically, acting like a lightbulb had just gone off. “Wow, I know exactly what happened.” “Last month, the hospital organized a charity drive for staff members struggling financially. Bella is actually a single mother. Her boyfriend bailed on her, and she has been having a really hard time managing a pregnancy alone.” “As the department head, I had to set an example.” “I must have accidentally slipped that card into the donation envelope instead of cash. She probably thought it was an official hospital grant and just started using it.” “Honestly, Bella should have known better. A card with that kind of limit? She really should have verified it with me first…” His facial expressions were so incredibly convincing. The sheer regret in his eyes almost made me doubt my own sanity for a second. But then I remembered the stained nursing pad hidden in his car. I stayed completely silent and just stared at him. Desperate to prove his innocence, he pulled out his phone and opened his department group chat. “Look, honey. The charity notice went out early last month.” The chat log did indeed show an initiative to raise funds for Bella. “I didn’t even give her the envelope directly. I had the head nurse pass it along. I barely speak to Bella outside of work. I swear to you, I am completely innocent.” “If you do not believe me, I will call the head nurse right now on speakerphone.” He aggressively jammed his thumb toward the dial button. 3 I grabbed his wrist and pinned his hand down. I shot him a freezing glare. “Enough. I believe you.” “Since it is just a misunderstanding, you need to get the card back tomorrow. It is pretty bold of her to max out a ten-thousand-dollar card.” “Absolutely! I will demand it back the second I clock in!” Arthur exhaled loudly, practically wiping sweat from his forehead. Watching him hurry away to the bathroom, a dark, lethal coldness settled in my eyes. I did not believe a single word he said. The image of that nursing wrapper in his car was permanently burned into my brain. We had been together since college. Seven long years. A part of me was desperately fighting the reality that he could be this kind of monster. I did not sleep a wink that night. The next morning, I left the house early, my face pale and exhausted. But I did not go to my office. I drove straight to a high-end private investigation firm and paid a small fortune to have Arthur and Bella followed. For the first few days, the photos and videos Detective Brooks sent back were perfectly normal. Arthur was either seeing patients, attending board meetings, or doing his rounds. His interactions with Bella were strictly limited to handing off patient charts. His behavior was so professional you couldn’t find a single flaw in it. I actually started to wonder if I was just suffering from postpartum paranoia. Then, at three o’clock on Friday afternoon, Detective Brooks sent me an urgent voice note. He spoke incredibly fast. “Mrs. Waldorf, we caught the big fish! Get to the GPS coordinates I just dropped you. Now!” I grabbed my keys and floored the gas pedal. I arrived at an ultra-exclusive private club in the center of the city. With the detective running interference, I quietly slipped into a semi-private booth on the second floor. I stood completely still. Only a thin, decorative privacy screen separated me from Arthur’s table. The second I stopped moving, Arthur’s familiar voice drifted through the wooden slats. It dripped with a sleazy, desperate lust I had never heard before. “Baby, I have been going crazy for you all week.” “I don’t know what got into my ugly wife, but she suddenly started asking questions about the baby card. I was so paranoid I couldn’t even look at you in the clinic.” Immediately after, Bella’s sickeningly sweet, whiny voice chimed in. “Oh Arthur, when are you going to kick her out? I am so sick of waddling around the hospital pretending to be your subordinate. It is humiliating.” “And since you took the VIP card back, who is going to pay for our son’s formula?” “Soon, baby, soon.” I heard the wet sound of Arthur kissing her cheek. “As soon as I manipulate her into signing over her company shares, I am throwing her out on the street.” A revolting series of wet, sloppy kissing noises followed. About twenty minutes later, just as I was about to lose my mind and kick the screen down, their heavy breathing finally stopped. During that half hour, my heart felt like it was being shoved through a meat grinder. The shock morphed into agonizing pain, then into total numbness, until absolutely nothing was left but pure, toxic hatred. But the conversation that followed made me hate them even more. “It is Friday. You know the drill. Let’s head back to my place, take a hot shower together, and I will make you feel real good.” “You are so bad. Hey, that expensive imported saffron you stole from her kitchen and made for me last week? My skin has been glowing. Did she notice?” “Hell no. She is completely obsessed with that annoying, crying brat of hers. She doesn’t notice anything.” “Good. She should consider it a blessing that she gets to contribute to the healthy baby boy growing in my stomach. Hahaha.” Snap. My expensive acrylic nail broke clean off, digging a bloody crescent into my palm. My stomach churned violently. I bit down on my lower lip so hard I tasted copper, forcing myself to swallow the bile rising in my throat. Every Friday afternoon, I went to a postpartum recovery center for physical therapy. I never imagined my medical routine would become the perfect, scheduled window for my husband to cheat on me. What made me want to vomit the most was that they were using my beautifully decorated, custom-built home as their free motel. And Bella’s supposed “single mother charity case” was actually carrying Arthur’s illegitimate child. The thought of them rolling around on the expensive mattress I personally picked out, leaving their filth everywhere, made me want to kick the door down and butcher them both. Animals. Absolute scum. I wanted them dead. Sensing that my eyes were bloodshot and I was seconds away from committing murder, Detective Brooks grabbed my shoulder and whispered urgently in my ear. “Hold on. Keep it together, Mrs. Waldorf. You have to keep your cool.” “We have absolute proof of the affair now. You can destroy them a hundred different ways.” “But if you charge in there and start swinging now, you will tip your hand. You lose the element of surprise.” Hearing his logic, I dug my nails deeper into my palms and forced the rage down into the pit of my stomach. I had to endure this. I needed to ensure these two parasites lost everything and never recovered. I waited in the shadows until they got dressed, acting all lovey-dovey as they walked out to their cars. Then, I pulled out my phone and called Martha. “Martha, are your two nephews who work at the meatpacking plant free today?” “Tell them to be at my house at four o’clock sharp. I need them to handle something for me. I will pay them five hundred dollars each.” Next, I opened my messaging app and started firing off group texts. The first one went to my parents and my mother-in-law. [Hey everyone, we are throwing an impromptu family BBQ at the house this afternoon. Come over, let’s eat some great food and catch up.] The final text went to Dr. Webber, the director of Arthur’s hospital. Two years ago, to guarantee Arthur’s promotion, I used my father’s corporate account to donate millions of dollars in imported MRI machines to their hospital. Whenever Dr. Webber saw me, he treated me like absolute royalty. [Dr. Webber, I am hosting a small gathering at my home today. I would love for you to drop by for a drink. We can discuss the new fleet of ambulances my company is planning to donate next year.] Every single person replied with an enthusiastic yes. 4 At four o’clock sharp, I pulled into my gated community. Martha and two massive, heavily muscled guys were waiting by the entrance. We walked through the garden path together. When we reached the front porch, my parents, my mother-in-law, and Dr. Webber—who had canceled a board meeting to be here—were already standing on the steps. “I have been ringing the bell for ten minutes. Why is nobody answering?” my dad grumbled, his brow furrowed. “Seriously. Serena invites the elders over and doesn’t even have the decency to open the door. So disrespectful,” my mother-in-law sneered, her toxic comments making my parents’ faces darken. “Serena just took over a huge project at the company. She is probably stuck in traffic. Let me call her,” my mom interjected, trying to keep the peace. “Absolutely. Young executives like Mrs. Waldorf are doing big things. Waiting a few minutes is not a problem at all,” Dr. Webber chimed in with a polite smile. But my mother-in-law refused to let it go. She loved picking fights. “Oh, Dr. Webber. You are the hospital director, your patience is just so admirable.” “Unlike my daughter-in-law. She thinks having some family money gives her the right to look down on everyone. She runs around town all day and can’t even give my son an heir.” “If it weren’t for my Arthur having the patience of a saint and being a highly respected doctor, no man would ever put up with her terrible attitude.” Dr. Webber forced a dry laugh and smartly kept his mouth shut. My parents looked furious. My mom actually took a step forward, ready to tear the woman apart. Terrified they would start screaming and alert the two animals screwing inside, I quickly stepped up, my heels clicking loudly against the stone path. “Why is everyone standing outside? Arthur is already home.” Seeing me arrive, the group parted to let me through to the door. “We rang the bell forever. Nobody answered. Arthur is probably asleep,” my dad said coldly. “My son works so hard saving lives in surgery. He is definitely exhausted and sleeping heavily,” my mother-in-law defended him defensively. She quickly turned her venom back on me. “You really need to start taking better care of Arthur, Serena. He is the provider of this family…” I ignored her absolute BS. I pressed my thumb against the biometric scanner on the front door. A loud beep echoed, and the deadbolt clicked open. The second I pushed the heavy oak door open an inch, a violent force slammed against it from the inside, trying to force it shut. “Who is it?!” Arthur’s voice roared from the foyer, thick with sheer panic. “Honey, it’s me. I finished work early. I invited my parents, your mom, and Dr. Webber over for a party.” I kept my voice bright and cheerful, but I shoved my weight hard against the wood. “No! Wait! Serena, stop!” Arthur was throwing his entire body weight against the door. His voice was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. “A pipe burst in the hallway! It is a complete mess! Give me ten minutes to clean it up!” “Arthur, what is wrong with you? Dr. Webber is standing right here. Open the damn door!” My mother-in-law cared deeply about her public image. Embarrassed by his behavior, she stepped up and started pushing on the door with me. I took a step back, looked at the two massive guys from the meatpacking plant, and tilted my chin toward the entrance. “Bust it open. I will cover any damages.” The two heavy hitters didn’t hesitate. They stepped up, dropped their shoulders, and rammed the door with explosive force. A deafening crash shook the frame. The heavy door blasted inward. Arthur let out a pathetic scream as he was launched backward, crashing hard onto the hardwood floor. He was completely naked, desperately clutching a tiny white towel over his waist. His face was the color of a ghost. Everyone rushed into the foyer. The living room was an absolute disaster zone. A pair of ripped black lace panties was thrown casually over the sofa. Several empty wine bottles and half-filled glasses littered the expensive coffee table. Used condom wrappers were scattered across the luxury rug. The air was thick with the sickening smell of cheap perfume and sweat. “Oh my god! Did someone break in?!” my mother-in-law shrieked. She stared at the disgusting mess, her eyes practically bulging out of her skull. Arthur scrambled backward on his hands and knees, dripping with nervous sweat. He stammered out the most pathetic excuse imaginable. “No… no break-in.” “I was… I was doing a highly sensitive medical experiment by myself… I accidentally knocked over some chemical reagents… I… I didn’t have time to clean it up.” “A solo medical experiment?” I let out a sharp, cold laugh. I walked over to the sofa and picked up the black lace lingerie. It was the exact set Bella had been wearing. I dangled the tiny scrap of fabric right in front of Arthur’s sweating face. “Honey, you were doing a medical experiment wearing this?” The entire room went dead silent.

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1 I was the only son of the Sinclair dynasty, with three older sisters who adored me without question. Life was perfect until a strange, glitchy memo app appeared on my phone. June 15: Victoria signs a blind liability guarantee for her male assistant. Sinclair Group loses ten billion in market value overnight. September 3: Josefina is framed by her toxic ex, voted off the board, and stripped of all equity. December 1: Megan gives up her trust fund to elope with a deadbeat, bankrupting the family. I stared at the screen. My three billionaire safety nets were about to disappear. From that day, I launched the Save My Wallet protocol. I took Victoria’s black card and spent four million dollars in one afternoon. She spent two days handling fraud alerts and luxury returns. I flew Josefina’s private jet to Paris, ripped out the custom leather interior, and demanded a full remodel. She was so furious she forced me into an eight-hour transatlantic video call micromanaging the redesign. I turned Megan’s climate-controlled wine cellar into a frat party, popping million-dollar vintages just to spray them at the walls. I kept them too busy and sleep-deprived to check their phones, let alone ruin their lives over men. As long as Cole Sinclair was around, their world revolved around me. Everything was perfect until Silas appeared in Victoria’s executive office. He looked at me, voice smooth but eyes icy. “Little brother, the executive floor isn’t a playground. Run along and play somewhere else.” The lounge fell silent. The most aggressively protective CEO in the city was about to walk through those doors. … I still had half a garlic butter lobster roll in my hand. I hadn’t even swallowed my last bite. There were five people in the executive lounge. Even the newest staffer had been with my sister for at least six years. Right now, their expressions were completely identical. A painful, agonizing conflict of wanting to speak up but being terrified of saying the wrong thing. Nancy, the admin coordinator, was the first one to crack. She let out a dry, awkward laugh. “Silas, this is Ms. Sinclair’s…” “I know. He’s the CEO’s little brother.” Silas cut her off without even looking her way. The way he said little brother had a slight upward lilt to it. It dripped with a very subtle, very deliberate disrespect. “But even a little brother shouldn’t be treating the executive suite like a food court.” “That lobster roll smells incredibly strong. What happens if a high-level client walks in?” He glanced at the greasy takeout box in front of me, his brow furrowing in distaste. “Besides, it’s my first day. The rules of this office need to be established.” “When Ms. Sinclair isn’t here, day-to-day operations fall under my jurisdiction.” He smiled, tilting his head at me like he was coaxing a toddler having a tantrum. “Be a good boy. Pack up your snacks, and I’ll have reception call you a black car to take you home. How does that sound?” Nancy started panicking, her voice pitching up half an octave. “Silas, you really don’t understand the situation. Ms. Sinclair had this lounge specifically built for…” “It doesn’t matter who it was built for.” Silas turned his head, his tone still perfectly gentle. But every single word carried an undeniable, heavy weight. “Nancy, you’ve been with Ms. Sinclair for a long time. You should know better than anyone that the executive office is the face of the entire corporation.” “A kid sitting in here stuffing his face with greasy seafood… if word gets out, how does that make the Sinclair Group look?” Fiona, the Director of Operations, set her coffee mug down and finally couldn’t hold back. “Silas, I highly suggest you wait until the CEO gets back before you…” “Fiona.” Silas turned his profile to her, his smile never wavering. “Ms. Sinclair authorized me to manage the daily affairs of this floor. This falls exactly within my purview.” “Unless… you’re questioning the CEO’s judgment?” Fiona opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. I picked up a napkin and wiped the garlic butter off my fingers, taking my sweet time. “What was that phrase you used earlier? Run along?” Silas’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second. “I didn’t say that,” he corrected smoothly. “I said play somewhere else.” “Right.” I nodded slowly. “So what you’re saying is, you get to decide where I sit?” “Mr. Sinclair. The whole company knows the CEO adores you. But business is business…” “By the way,” I interrupted him. “The passcode to the digital lock on that door? It’s my birthday. 0816. You can ask literally anyone in this room.” “Technically speaking, this lounge belongs to me.” Nancy nodded so hard she looked like a bobblehead. Silas went quiet for two full seconds. He took a deep breath and completely rearranged his face. This time, he wasn’t smiling. “Mr. Sinclair, every word I’ve said today is for the good of the company. It’s not a personal attack.” He turned to Nancy, his voice shifting into the hard, clipped tone of an executive giving an order. “Nancy. Notify reception. Starting today, anyone who is not an executive staff member must be logged and approved before entering this floor.” He paused. “Everyone. No exceptions.” Nancy’s face drained of color. “Silas, this kind of policy… it really needs Ms. Sinclair’s…” “She gave me the authority.” Silas cut her off smoothly. “I don’t need to ask for her permission for every little thing.” Then he turned back to me. This time, he didn’t even bother keeping up the gentle facade. “Mr. Sinclair, your behavior today has disrupted the workflow of this office.” “As the executive coordinator, I have the right to handle it.” He walked over to the glass doors, pulled them open, and nodded at the two security guards stationed in the hall. “Please lock this lounge temporarily.” He looked back at me, his voice quiet but crystal clear. “You can stay in here for a bit and cool off.” “Once I’ve given my report to the CEO, I’ll let you out.” “Consider it… a learning experience.” Nancy shot up from her chair. “Silas! Are you insane?!” Silas raised a hand, stopping her in her tracks. The smile crept back onto his lips, so fake it made my skin crawl. “Nancy, relax. I’m doing this for his own good.” “A spoiled kid needs someone to teach him boundaries eventually, right?” The security guards pulled the doors shut. The lock clicked. The lighting in the room didn’t change, but the atmosphere suddenly felt like we were all suffocating underwater. Standing on the other side of the glass, Silas clapped his hands together lightly, like he had just wiped a smudge off a window. “Alright.” He turned to Nancy, his tone back to being perfectly pleasant. “Nancy, type up the meeting minutes from this afternoon and email them to me. The CEO will want to review them later.” Nancy didn’t move. “Silas…” Her voice was shaking. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing right now?” “I do.” Silas said. “I’m restoring order to the executive suite.” “And Nancy, I wasn’t asking.” Nancy’s head snapped up, her eyes flashing red. She had been with Victoria for eleven years. She was here back when the Sinclair Group was just a mid-sized firm. She had never been spoken to like this in her life. She took a deep breath, ready to explode. But Silas had already turned away, pulling his phone from his pocket and dialing a number. It connected almost instantly. A heavy, authoritative voice echoed through the phone speaker. “Silas, what is it?” Silas’s posture immediately softened. His tone became deferential, almost sweet. “Uncle Arthur. I just got to the executive floor and ran into a bit of a situation. I wanted to run it by you.” The moment the name Uncle Arthur dropped, the lounge went dead silent again. Gary’s coffee cup froze in mid-air. Fiona’s eyes widened. The man Silas was talking to wasn’t just anybody. It was Arthur Mercer. A founding board member, a loyalist to our late father, and the current Head of the Supervisory Board. Silas recounted the incident. His tone was aggrieved, his phrasing meticulously crafted to make him sound like a helpless professional just trying to do his job, while painting me as an unhinged, entitled brat throwing his weight around. “…I really had no choice. The CEO isn’t here, and the office was in total chaos. I had to follow protocol.” “Uncle Arthur, did I do the right thing?” The line was quiet for a couple of seconds. “You did the right thing, Silas. Rules are rules.” Arthur Mercer’s voice wasn’t loud, but it pierced right through the glass. “I’ll give Victoria a call later and tell her to get a leash on that brother of hers.” “A grown kid running wild around a corporate office. It’s a disgrace.” Silas looked up, his eyes sweeping over everyone in the room before locking onto me. The corner of his mouth twitched upward. “Thank you, Uncle Arthur. I knew you’d understand.” He hung up, slipped the phone back into his pocket, and stood a little taller. His entire aura had shifted. Before, he was playing the polite newcomer. Now, he didn’t even need the mask. He looked right at me through the glass. “Mr. Sinclair. You’re a smart kid. I won’t insult your intelligence by beating around the bush.” He crossed his arms, his voice perfectly level. “I didn’t come to this company to make enemies with you. But lines have to be drawn.” “You play along today, I put in a good word for you with your sister, and from now on, when you come up here, I’ll turn a blind eye.” “Doesn’t that sound like a win-win?” I looked down at my cold lobster roll. I looked back up, right as I was about to open my mouth. Footsteps echoed down the marble hallway. “Who gave the order to lock this door?” It was Evelyn. Victoria’s shadow. The Chief of Staff. Evelyn stood in front of the glass doors, holding the master keycard in her hand. She was in her early forties, had been with Victoria for thirteen years, and was literally there the day the company signed its first office lease. Everyone in the building knew the unwritten rule: When Victoria wasn’t around, Evelyn’s word was god. Her eyes swept over the locked door, the terrified staff inside, and finally landed on Silas. “I’m going to ask one more time.” She adjusted her glasses, her voice as flat as a dial tone. “Who gave the order to lock this door?” Silas didn’t answer immediately. He studied Evelyn for a couple of seconds, his eyes lingering on the gold badge pinned to her blazer. Chief of Staff: Evelyn. “I did.” He kept his chin lifted. There wasn’t an ounce of guilt in his voice. “There was a disruption in the office. I utilized the authority granted to me by the CEO to handle it temporarily.” Evelyn didn’t say a word. She swiped her keycard. The doors beeped and unlocked. She walked straight past Silas and stopped right in front of me. She looked at the cold, greasy takeout box on the table, and then at me. “Cole. Are you alright?” I shook my head. Evelyn nodded once. She turned to Nancy. “Have the kitchen prep a fresh order. Add a bowl of shrimp bisque. The CEO knew Cole was visiting today and specifically asked for it.” Nancy looked like she had just been handed a presidential pardon. She blurted a quick “Yes, ma’am!” and bolted for the door. “Hold on.” Silas’s voice cut through the air. Nancy froze in her tracks. “Evelyn.” Silas took a step forward, planting himself right between Evelyn and Nancy. “I just explicitly stated that non-employees are no longer permitted to dine on the executive floor. That policy is effective immediately.” “Are you overriding my administrative decision?” Evelyn slowly turned her head to look at him. “Silas.” Evelyn finally spoke. “I was the one who processed your onboarding paperwork. I know the exact limits of your authority better than you do.” “The CEO authorized you to coordinate daily administrative tasks.” She paused. “That does not include HR. That does not include security deployments. And it certainly does not include… locking doors.” Silas’s expression stiffened. He recovered quickly, even managing a small, condescending chuckle. “Evelyn, those are just words on a contract.” “Do you really think the CEO brought me up here just to be a glorified paper pusher?” “You’ve been with her for thirteen years. You should know better than anyone…” “She doesn’t hire people based on job descriptions.” He tilted his head, his tone suddenly dripping with a bizarre, intimate familiarity. “The dynamic between me and the CEO isn’t something that can be summed up in an offer letter.” “Evelyn, you’re a smart woman. I don’t think I need to spell it out for you.” The moment those words left his mouth, Gary nearly dropped his coffee mug on the floor. Fiona physically turned her head away to hide her face. Nancy stood in the doorway, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. Evelyn adjusted her glasses. Her expression didn’t change by a single millimeter. “Silas. Whatever your personal relationship with the CEO may be, while you are on Sinclair Group property, you follow corporate policy.” “Because those are the rules the CEO herself put in place.” She turned back to Nancy, her voice completely unchanged. “Go. Get the food.” Nancy didn’t hesitate this time. She practically sprinted down the hall. Silas watched Nancy disappear, the smirk on his face dissolving inch by inch. He turned back to face Evelyn. He wasn’t smiling anymore. “Evelyn, I respected your seniority, which is why I tried to be polite.” “But you blatantly undermining me in front of the entire staff makes my job very difficult.” Evelyn didn’t flinch. “I locked this lounge because Cole’s behavior was actively disrupting the workflow of this floor.” Silas lowered his voice, grinding out every single syllable. “Arthur Mercer himself gave his blessing on this.” “Are you saying you outrank a founding board member?” Evelyn tucked her tablet under her arm. Her tone was as dead and still as a frozen lake. “Silas. Arthur Mercer is the Head of the Supervisory Board. His job is to ensure corporate compliance.” “He has absolutely zero jurisdiction over executive HR or office management.” She paused. “That is written in the corporate bylaws. In black and white. It’s not my opinion, and it’s certainly not his.” Silas’s eyes went entirely cold. “Evelyn.” It was the first time he dropped her title completely. “Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?” “I do.” Evelyn replied effortlessly. “Silas, the new executive assistant. Currently on his first day of work.” It wasn’t a shout. But every word drew blood. He spun around and looked at me. Since Evelyn was a brick wall, he clearly decided to pivot and pressure the weakest link. “Cole.” He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “I’m going to give you one last chance.” “Play along today, and I’ll pretend none of this happened.” “You can keep coming up here, I won’t stop you, and we stay out of each other’s way.” “But if you keep pushing this…” He trailed off, his eyes doing a slow sweep of my face. “I have no problem calling Arthur Mercer down here to handle this personally.” “If this blows up, it’s not going to end well for you.” I pushed the cold lobster roll away and looked up at him. “Silas.” I said. “How long have you been in this room today?” Silas frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?” “Just curious.” I said. “You walked in, locked the door, name-dropped a board member, tried to bully the Chief of Staff, and now you’re trying to negotiate with me.” I tilted my head. “Do you really think you have any leverage left?” Silas’s eyes snapped wide. It wasn’t anger. It was that frantic, cornered-animal panic of a man who realized he had miscalculated completely. But he shoved it down fast. He took a deep breath, forcing the polite smile back onto his face. But the mask was cracking. The venom was leaking through. “You’ve got a sharp tongue on you, kid.” “I’ve always been this way. My sisters are used to it.” “Your sisters?” Silas repeated the words softly, a sneer curling his lip. “Your sisters aren’t here right now.” “No matter how much they coddle you, they can’t save you from this.” He took a step forward. “So, think carefully, Mr. Sinclair.” He raised a hand and pointed straight at the open door. “Are you going to walk out on your own, or do I have to have security escort you out?” Evelyn stepped forward instantly. “Silas—” “Evelyn, if you interrupt me one more time,” Silas snapped, his voice turning vicious, “I am calling Arthur Mercer right now. We’ll see how he feels about an assistant chronically obstructing executive operations.” Evelyn stopped. Silas looked back at me, keeping his arm extended toward the door. “Let’s go, Cole.” I looked down at his outstretched hand. I stared at it for about three seconds. Then I looked up, past his shoulder, staring straight into the hallway. Silas noticed my gaze. He frowned and slowly turned around. Footsteps clipped sharply against the marble floor. A figure appeared in the doorway. Victoria stood there, her voice completely flat. “What exactly is going on here?”

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1 My ten-year-old daughter went on a school trip to the reservoir. Her classmates dragged her to the intake pipe and held her under. When I saw the water turn pink, I lost my mind and pulled her out. Her face was mangled by the grate’s suction. She coughed up blood and stopped breathing. The ringleader sneered that she was a minor and untouchable. “I hated her anyway. Why did she always beat my scores?” Her mother tossed a handkerchief of cash at my feet. “Two grand. More than enough for your brat’s cheap life.” Grief and rage consumed me. I demanded justice, but my husband held me back. “She’s already dead, Lynn. Do you want to ruin another child’s life?” I fought desperately, but the bully got only months in juvie. It wasn’t enough. Broken, I took a bottle of pills at my daughter’s grave. I woke up on the morning of the field trip. I dragged my daughter home, but history repeated itself—another girl drowned in the reservoir that day. … We had run away from the reservoir in such a panic that my daughter, Lily, left her sandals behind. I told her to wait for me at the edge of town while I went back to grab them. I also planned to warn the town council that the safety grate on the spillway was broken. As I approached the water, a chorus of cruel laughter echoed through the trees. “Look at her! She looks like a dead fish. Come on, move! Why aren’t you moving? Hahaha!” Three girls were laughing hysterically. The tallest one, Ruby, was pressing her foot down hard on a patch of blue fabric beneath the surface of the water. Seeing that blue floral pattern, the exact same dress Lily was wearing today, made my heart skip a beat. The faint red tint swirling in the water almost made me pass out. If I did not know for a fact that my daughter was safely waiting for me down the road, I would never have been able to face this nightmare again. In my past life, Ruby had murdered my daughter out of pure, petty jealousy. Lily had beaten her in the state math exams and found more shells than her during a beach trip. That was all it took for Ruby to kill her. So who was this girl in the water? And what was her supposed crime? I did not have time to think. Saving a life was the only thing that mattered. I screamed at the top of my lungs. “Stop! What the hell are you doing?!” Ruby looked up, saw me, and casually took a half-step back with a raised eyebrow. “Oh look, the mother hen is here to protect her chicks. I guess the fun is over.” The other two girls jumped back like startled rabbits, refusing to meet my eyes. The girl in the water was pinned violently against the intake pipe. The massive suction force had her face pressed flush against the iron grate. Her limbs floated lifelessly in the current. This was exactly how I found my daughter in my past life. I had thrown myself into the water to pull her out, but the suction was too strong. I could not move her. By the time the locals ran over and shut off the main valve, the golden window for CPR had long passed. My daughter died right in my arms. Looking at the blue floral dress, the braided hair, the small frame… I had to keep repeating it in my head. This is not Lily. Lily is safe. Lily is waiting for me. But my hands were still shaking uncontrollably. Relying on the tragic experience of my past life, I turned to the bystanders who were just staring in shock. “What are you standing there for? Can’t you see someone is stuck on the grate? Go shut off the main valve right now!” A few men finally snapped out of their daze and sprinted toward the control shed. Minutes later, I hauled the girl’s limp body onto the concrete bank. Her face was swollen and distorted beyond recognition. She had absolutely no breath left. I could not find a pulse. Ruby stood off to the side, her arms crossed over her chest. A faint, sickening smile played on her lips. “She told us she could hold her breath for three minutes straight. We were just helping her practice.” “Helping her?” My eyes went entirely red. I lunged forward and slapped Ruby across the face as hard as I could. “You pinned her head against an industrial suction pipe and you call that helping?!” Ruby clutched her stinging cheek and glared at me with pure venom. “We were just playing around! How was I supposed to know she was so fragile?” “You actually dared to hit me? Do you know who my dad is? Believe me, I will have my dad destroy your entire family!” I knew exactly who her dad was. That was why I wanted to tear her arrogant little face right off. “Playing? Is this how you play? You just murdered someone! Do you understand that?!” The chubby girl standing next to Ruby finally realized the gravity of the situation. Her voice trembled violently. “Ruby, did we just…” Before she could finish, Ruby snapped at her. “Did we what? You were pushing her down just as hard as I was!” The third girl immediately burst into terrified tears. “I… I want to go home…” I ignored them. I laid the drowned girl flat on her back and immediately started chest compressions. I yelled at the nearest local. “Go get Dr. Evans from the clinic! Hurry! We might still be able to save her!” I tilted the girl’s chin back to start rescue breaths. As I did, my eyes caught a distinct, dark red birthmark shaped like a plum blossom behind her ear. Something clicked in my memory. Just then, Jenkins, the old man who managed the reservoir, came strolling down the dirt path. Right beside him was Patricia, Ruby’s wealthy mother. When they saw the gruesome scene by the water, panic washed over their faces. “What… what happened here?!” Jenkins stammered. Ruby instantly dropped her arrogant act. She put on a terrified, innocent face and ran crying into her mother’s arms. “Mom! We were just having a contest to see who could hold their breath the longest! She said she could do three minutes, we didn’t know…” “This is ridiculous!” Jenkins turned pale. “I have told you kids a million times not to swim here without an adult!” “I am sorry, I promise I will never do it again,” Ruby sniffled, looking down. Then she peeked up at me and smirked. “But this crazy lady had no right to hit me!” Patricia saw the bright red handprint on her daughter’s cheek. She pointed a manicured finger right at my nose. “Who the hell gave you the right to touch my daughter?” She cast a look of utter disgust at the dying girl on the ground, then glared back at me. “This brat broke the rules and swam where she wasn’t supposed to. Her parents clearly don’t know how to watch their own kid. You can’t blame anyone else for an accident like this, can you?” In my past life, multiple witnesses confirmed that my daughter had just taken her shoes off by the water when Ruby shoved her in from behind. Then all three of them dragged her to the pipe and held her down. I knew this girl’s final moments must have been exactly the same. I knew the absolute hell of losing a child. Regardless of who this little girl was, she was completely innocent. Every second mattered. I did not want to waste my breath arguing with Patricia. I kept pumping the girl’s chest and shot a sharp glare at Jenkins. “You are the caretaker, Jenkins. You are liable for this too. You better call the child’s parents right now.” 2 Jenkins trembled violently and started backing away. He stammered out his agreement. “Right, right. I will go call the town mayor…” A few seconds later, he stopped and looked back at the girl’s swollen, disfigured face. “Her face is ruined. How am I supposed to know whose kid this is?” I looked up at him in absolute disbelief. “Are you incapable of checking? Just count how many kids were supposed to be on this field trip. Subtract the ones who are safe, subtract these three standing right here, and whoever is left…” Ruby suddenly interrupted me. “You don’t need to check. I know exactly who it is.” She walked right up to me and crouched down. She stared closely at the dead girl’s face. Her voice was quiet, but every word stabbed into my ears like a needle. “This is Lily. Have you honestly forgotten what your own kid looks like?” “You were acting so crazy a minute ago. I thought you already knew. Or are you just refusing to accept reality?” I stared at her, my eyes wide. So that was it. She saw the blue dress and thought she was drowning my daughter. That was why she was so ruthless. Ruby seemed incredibly satisfied by the shock on my face. Seeing that I was still doing chest compressions, she laughed. “Stop wasting your energy. Have you noticed she hasn’t reacted at all for the past twenty minutes?” “It took way longer than ten minutes for you to pull her out of that pipe. The golden window for saving her is long gone.” Hearing those words, all the strength drained from my arms. I collapsed onto the concrete, my whole body shaking. Was I still too late? I failed to save my own daughter in my past life, and now I had failed to save this innocent girl too. I glared at Ruby with absolute hatred. “Why would you do something so evil? Are you not afraid of karma?!” “Oh wow, I am so scared.” She dramatically patted her chest in mock terror. “Karma? You mean the law?” “I am only eleven years old. The law says anyone under fourteen cannot be held criminally responsible for anything.” She was leaning so close to me that I could smell the cheap floral soap in her hair. Those exact words, and that exact smell, had haunted my nightmares every single night in my past life. Looking at her face, a grotesque mixture of childish innocence and pure malice, the hatred of two lifetimes finally boiled over. I grabbed her by the hair, fully intending to drag her to the water and hold her under. “You are pure evil. I am going to let you taste exactly what she felt…” Patricia swung her heavy designer purse and smashed it directly into the side of my head. The thick metal buckle tore a deep, bleeding gash across my forehead. The pain forced me to let go. Patricia quickly pulled Ruby behind her. “Are you insane?!” “The accident already happened! Why are you taking it out on a child? My daughter is eleven! She doesn’t know any better! It was just a stupid accident!” “An accident?” I felt the blood rushing to my head, pounding against my temples. “Go ask the witnesses! Three girls held a child’s head against an industrial suction pipe until she drowned. You call that an accident?!” Patricia glanced nervously at her daughter, who looked slightly guilty. Then, with agonizing slowness, Patricia pulled a thick wad of hundred-dollar bills from her purse. “So what exactly do you want? Justice? Let me teach you a lesson about the real world. Justice depends entirely on who you are and how much you can pay!” She took a step forward, practically shoving the money into my face. “Do you know who my daughter is? She is the heir to the Montgomery Lumber Mill!” “And your kid? Just the brat of a pathetic middle-management accountant. She is dead, get over it. Did you honestly expect a Montgomery to trade her life for a nobody?” She threw the money, letting the bills flutter down onto my face and lap. “There is two thousand dollars. Take the money, shut your mouth, and buy your kid a decent coffin.” “If you dare breathe a word of this to anyone, or if you go to the cops… I promise you, neither you nor your husband will ever find a job in this state again!” Ruby peeked out from behind her mother’s expensive coat and stuck her tongue out at me. There was not a single ounce of fear in her eyes. Only pure, untouchable arrogance. Jenkins finally realized how bad things were getting. Not wanting to lose his own job, he leaned in and whispered to me. “Lynn, be reasonable. This was a tragedy, but since the Montgomery family is willing to settle this privately, why don’t you just take a step back?” Take a step back? I looked down at the cash scattered on the ground, then at the freezing, lifeless body of the little girl. It was absolutely sickening. They were treating a human life like a cheap business transaction, brushing it off like it was nothing. My eyes fell on the girl’s plum blossom birthmark again. I finally remembered exactly who she was. Since my ordinary daughter’s life was not worth anything to them, I could not wait to see how many lives they would have to pay to settle the debt for this girl. Ruby was still running her mouth. “Just look on the bright side. Cash in hand is better than nothing. Your kid is dead, so just go make another one…” I slowly lifted my head, locking my eyes onto her arrogantly ignorant face. “Your mother’s money is not going to save you this time.” She jutted her chin out. “Say whatever you want. Nothing is going to happen to me anyway. My mom told me the juvenile protection laws are my permanent shield!” I gently wiped the bloody water from the dead girl’s face. My fingertips brushed softly against the red plum blossom mark. I took off my jacket and draped it over her small body, wanting to give her one last shred of dignity. “Your shield?” A cold smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. “Then you better start praying that the people coming for you actually care about the law.” Patricia frowned deeply. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I completely ignored her. I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and dialed a specific number. I leaned down and whispered softly into the dead girl’s ear. “Don’t be afraid, sweetie. Your daddy will be here soon.” Then, I turned toward the wall phone mounted on the outside of the caretaker’s booth and started dialing 911. “What do you think you are doing?!” Patricia finally realized something was wrong. Her voice went shrill with panic. “I am warning you! This ends here, today! If you dare make that call…”

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1 The night before graduation, I finished tutoring early and dragged my suitcase to the station. Lucia and I had promised our first trip would be to the ocean. That ticket cost three months of grueling essay drills with elementary students. But the kiosk did not print my ticket. Instead, a text confirmed it had been refunded. When I called Lucia, it went straight to voicemail. Minutes later, I saw her at the far end of the waiting hall. She wore the white sundress I had bought her, crouching to adjust Paul’s jeans. She held my camera, my graduation lanyard was around her neck, and my brand-new suitcase sat by her feet. Before I could reach them, Paul’s eyes welled with tears. “Noah, please don’t be mad… I really wanted to see the beach.” Lucia looked up, her face cold. “How did you find us?” I pointed at the suitcase. “That’s mine.” She tightened her grip with an irritated sigh. “Paul’s back is bad. He can’t carry a heavy bag. Is it such a crime to borrow yours?” “And my ticket?” She paused, then shoved a crumpled coach ticket into my hand. “I booked you a seat home tonight.” Her voice dropped, each word hitting like a nail. “This trip is a celebration. Don’t tag along and ruin it.” Using my things, stealing my trip, and calling me the killjoy. I stared at the crumpled piece of paper. Back to my hometown. Coach class. Three months of saving every dime, and all it bought me was a one-way ticket backward, personally arranged by my girlfriend. I ripped the ticket in half and dropped it into the nearest trash can. Lucia’s face shifted. “Noah, are you out of your mind?” I looked her dead in the eye. “My camera, my suitcase, and my graduation lanyard are all in his hands. Why the hell should I be the one to leave?” Paul immediately shrank behind Lucia’s shoulder. “Lucia, maybe… maybe I should just give his stuff back.” He said the words, but his knuckles were white as he gripped my suitcase handle. He wasn’t letting go. Lucia frowned at me. “Paul gets motion sickness, and he can’t carry a backpack. Do you really have to make a scene and humiliate him in public?” As she spoke, I looked down and pressed the side button on my old phone. The voice memo app lit up. The recording timer started ticking. The overhead speaker blared, announcing the final boarding call for their train. Paul gently tugged at her sleeve. “Lucia, if we don’t go now, we’re gonna miss it.” She didn’t look at me again. With one hand holding Paul’s arm and the other dragging my suitcase, she turned and walked through the boarding gates. I stood frozen in the middle of the terminal as my phone screen slowly faded to black. My chest felt just as hollow. I went to the ticket counter and bought a standing-room-only ticket for the next train to Cape Haven. Seven hours. No seat. I stood in the cramped, shaky vestibule between train cars the entire way. By the time we arrived, my legs were numb and trembling. Halfway through the ride, Lucia sent me a text. Paul is dizzy from the train. Don’t come here and stress him out. I didn’t reply. At two in the morning, I dragged myself into the lobby of the beachside resort. The guy at the front desk pulled up the reservation, looking incredibly awkward. “Mr. Davis, the reservation is under your name, and you’re the one who paid for it.” “But the guest name was modified to Paul.” I gripped my ID so hard my fingers hurt. “Who modified it?” “A Miss Lucia.” The elevator dinged. Lucia stepped out. Her hair was damp, and she was wearing a loose, oversized t-shirt. When she saw me, her first question wasn’t how I managed to survive a seven-hour train ride standing up. She just frowned. “You actually followed us?” I stared at her. “Where is my room?” “Paul just fell asleep. Keep your voice down.” “I asked you, where is my room?” Lucia rubbed her temples, looking thoroughly exhausted by my presence. “There are no rooms left tonight. There’s a storage closet downstairs on the ground floor. You’ll just have to make do for now.” She tossed a rusted key at my chest. “Don’t go up there and make a scene. You know Paul gets anxious.” I looked down at the key hitting the floor. A dry, humorless laugh scraped out of my throat. “Lucia, I booked that room. With my money.” “I know.” Her voice dropped to a harsh whisper. “But Paul has a weak constitution, and the travel wiped him out. Just act like an adult, Noah. Stop throwing a tantrum.” I slid my hand into my pocket and pressed the button on my old phone again. The recording app was still running. This time, I didn’t try to convince myself to just let it go. I unlocked the storage closet. A wave of mildew and damp earth hit my face. Mops, dirty buckets, and a half-collapsed mattress were piled inside. My suitcase was shoved into the corner. The lock had been completely pried off. My clothes were thrown around in a messy pile. I squatted down, sifting through the mess piece by piece. My toiletry bag was there. My charger was there. But the blue button-down shirt my dad had bought me… was gone. My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from Lucia. Paul was nice enough to unpack your suitcase for you. Don’t be ungrateful. 2 The next morning, the class group chat pinged. Everyone was supposed to meet on the beach at nine for graduation photos. I hadn’t slept a wink. I carried my busted suitcase upstairs to the lobby. The moment the elevator doors parted, I saw Paul standing right outside the ocean-view suite. He was wearing the blue shirt. Lucia was standing in front of him, buttoning the collar. Her movements were so natural, so practiced. Like she had done it a thousand times. That shirt was the last thing my dad ever bought me before he passed away. He had been sitting in the hospital gift shop, IV tape still plastered across the back of his bruised hand. He had smiled and said, “Noah, when you go to the beach for your graduation trip, wear this. Take a picture for me so I can see the ocean too.” I walked over. My voice was trembling, thick with venom. “Take it off.” Paul’s eyes instantly welled up with tears. “Noah… I didn’t know it was yours.” Lucia stepped right in front of him, shielding him like I was a monster. “Are you seriously making him strip in the hallway?” “There are cameras here, Noah. Have a little decency.” I kept my eyes locked on him. “That shirt is the only thing my dad left me for graduation.” Lucia’s face stiffened for a fraction of a second. But then her brow furrowed in annoyance. “Your dad is gone, Noah. Are you really going to bully a living person over a piece of fabric?” Paul started sobbing, his shoulders shaking pitifully. Lucia turned around, her voice softening into a gentle coo. “Hey, don’t cry. It’s okay. He’s just having one of his moods.” Down on the beach, when the group photo was taken, Paul stood dead center. He was wearing my dad’s shirt. He was holding my camera. He was leaning right against Lucia. Someone in the crowd whistled. “Lucia, Paul, you guys totally look like a couple!” Lucia didn’t deny it. She just looked at me. There was no guilt in her eyes. Only a warning. After the group shots, Paul grabbed the hem of the blue shirt and jogged toward the jagged rocks near the tide pools. “Lucia, come take some solo shots of me!” I lunged forward and grabbed the camera strap from his neck. “Give it back.” Paul yanked backward. “Noah, come on, I’m not done yet!” “It’s my camera.” As we pulled back and forth, he suddenly let out a sharp shriek. He slipped. The bottom of the blue shirt caught on a jagged rock, tearing all the way from the knee to the calf. Paul used the momentum to fall right into Lucia’s arms, gasping for air like he was having a panic attack. “I didn’t mean to! Why does he always have to fight me for everything?” Lucia shoved me hard in the chest. I stumbled backward, my palms scraping against the barnacles on the rocks. Blood immediately welled up, stinging violently against the salt air. But she didn’t even look. She was too busy checking Paul. “Are you hurt? Did you scrape anything?” I looked down at the blood dripping from my hands, and then at the massive tear running up my dad’s shirt. Lucia glared over her shoulder at me, her eyes like absolute ice. “Are you happy now?” I opened my mouth, but before I could make a sound, Paul fished a soaked, crumpled wad of paper from the shirt pocket. “Ew, what’s this? It’s all soggy.” The blood drained from my face. It was the graduation card my dad had written for me. I had tucked it into the pocket right before I left, planning to read it once I finally stood in front of the ocean. I lunged to grab it. Paul yelped and let go. The card dropped right into the churning tide. A wave crashed in, sucking half of it out to sea. I fell to my knees in the wet sand, desperately clawing at the water. I only managed to snatch a torn corner. There was only one line of ink left visible. Noah, keep moving forward. Lucia stood behind me, crossing her arms. She sounded thoroughly annoyed. “It’s literally just a piece of paper. Get over it.” I gripped that torn, soggy corner of the card. My hands were shaking so hard they didn’t even feel like mine anymore. That was the moment it finally clicked. It wasn’t that she didn’t know I was bleeding. It was just that my pain would always take a backseat to his tears. 3 At noon, my phone buzzed. A text from Lucia. Bring the spare camera battery to the restaurant. I didn’t go. I sat on the curb outside the resort and turned on my camera. The SD card had been swapped. The only things left on the new card were blurry selfies of Paul. My entire senior thesis film was gone. The project was titled Taking Dad to the Ocean. I had been shooting it for three years. I filmed the misty bus stops in our small town at dawn. I filmed the bruised purple sunsets on my way home from tutoring. I filmed the glass of water going cold on my dad’s hospital nightstand. I filmed his trembling hands, secretly wiping away sweat the day he bought me that blue shirt. I had planned to shoot the final sequence here, on the beach. I was going to set his photograph in the sand, let the waves touch it, and tell him, I graduated, Dad. I really made it out. Now, it was all gone. I called Lucia. Before the call connected, I woke up my old phone. I checked to make sure the recording app was still ticking. She took her time answering. In the background, I could hear glasses clinking. People laughing. “What is it now?” “Where is my SD card?” Dead silence on the line for two seconds. “Paul has his grad school portfolio interview coming up, and he didn’t have enough footage. I transferred your raw files to his laptop.” Rage spiked through my veins so hot it made my fingertips go numb. “Who gave you the right to touch my things?” Lucia’s tone went ice-cold. “Noah, can you stop being so incredibly selfish?” “You’re not even applying for grad school. That footage is just going to sit on your hard drive doing nothing.” “It’s different for Paul. He needs this opportunity.” A bitter, venomous laugh tore out of my throat. “So my thesis film is just supposed to be a stepping stone for him?” “He’s just borrowing it.” “Lucia, that film was for my dad.” She went quiet. When she finally spoke again, her voice was dripping with disgust. “Stop using your dead dad to guilt-trip everyone.” I hung up. Ten minutes later, the class group chat exploded. Paul had just uploaded a short film. The title was I Finally Saw the Ocean. The first frame was my shot of the small-town bus stop. The second frame was the sterile hallway of my dad’s hospital wing. The third frame was the exact voiceover script I had written in my notes app. I clawed my way out of a small town to reach the ocean, not so the world could see me, but so my dad would know… I didn’t lose. Except Paul had deleted “my dad.” He changed it to: …but to prove that I deserve a better future. The comments were a flood of praise. “Paul, this is so raw. You have such an artistic eye!” “If this doesn’t win the Outstanding Graduate Film award, the system is rigged.” Then, the department head chimed in. “Paul, this is phenomenal. I’m submitting this for the campus-wide showcase.” I stood up and sprinted to the seafood restaurant. When I pushed open the door to the private dining room, Lucia was peeling shrimp for Paul. She had never peeled a shrimp for me in her life. Once, I sliced my thumb open on a crab shell, and she laughed and called me dramatic. Now, a whole plate of perfectly peeled shrimp sat in front of Paul. The waiter brought out a platter of roasted crab. Lucia immediately held up a hand. “Paul can’t eat crab. He’s allergic.” I stopped in my tracks. A second later, she pushed the only bowl of warm, soothing porridge directly in front of him. “Your stomach has been acting up. Eat this first.” It was almost hilarious. It wasn’t that she was forgetful or careless. She knew exactly how to care for someone. She just chose to care for someone else. I walked right up to the table and held out my hand. “Give me my SD card.” Paul’s eyes immediately reddened. “Noah, I swear, I was just trying to work hard for once.” I stared down at him. “Working hard at stealing other people’s lives?” Lucia slammed her chopsticks onto the table. “Noah, watch your damn mouth.” “Then watch your damn actions. Both of you make me sick.” The entire private room went dead silent. Lucia’s face darkened into something ugly. “Are you seriously going to ruin this lunch for everyone?” “You ruined my film.” Paul shook his head, tears spilling over his cheeks. “Noah, Lucia gave me the files! I swear, I thought you agreed to let me use them!” Lucia looked up at me, jutting her chin out. “I gave them to him. You have a problem, you take it up with me.” I smiled. A tight, dangerous smile. “Perfect. Then why don’t you tell the whole room right now? Are those files mine or not?” She clamped her mouth shut. Paul started crying louder. “Noah, why are you forcing Lucia into a corner like this?” Just then, a notification popped up on my phone. A direct message from the department head. Noah, someone submitted an anonymous report accusing you of plagiarizing Paul’s project. Your nomination for the Outstanding Graduate award has been suspended pending review. Right beneath it, another message popped up. The HR rep from the local TV station back home. Mr. Davis, due to the ongoing dispute regarding your academic integrity, we are placing your internship offer on hold. I stood in the middle of the restaurant, the blood turning to ice in my veins. I found out later exactly how it happened. The anonymous report was Paul. He had sent an email to the college board and the TV station. He attached a heavily edited, ten-second clip of me yelling in the restaurant, framing me as the aggressor, and linked the video he had already claimed under his own name. He didn’t just want to steal my work. He wanted to permanently brand me as a thief. I didn’t come from money like Lucia did. I didn’t have the luxury of crying to get my way like Paul did. That internship was my only lifeline. And now, they were casually snapping it in half. Lucia noticed the look on my face. She frowned. “What’s wrong now?” I tossed my phone onto the table in front of her. She read the messages. For a split second, genuine panic flickered across her face. But then Paul gently tugged at the hem of her shirt. “Lucia… I’m scared.” And just like that, the panic vanished, replaced by an iron-clad defense of him. She slid the phone back to me and lowered her voice. “Noah, let’s not blow this out of proportion.” “Just admit it was a misunderstanding. Tell them you got confused, and Paul won’t press the plagiarism charges.” I stared at her like she was an alien. “You want me to apologize?” She couldn’t meet my eyes. “Just put the fire out first. We’ll deal with the rest later.” It was pure, unadulterated insanity. The footage was mine. The thief was him. The one who handed him the knife was her. And the one who had to get on his knees and apologize… was me. 4 At eight o’clock that night, the department held an emergency Zoom meeting. I was sitting on the half-collapsed mattress in the storage closet. The single naked bulb above my head flickered, buzzing like a dying insect. On the screen, Paul was sitting in the plush chair of the ocean-view suite I had paid for. His eyes were puffy and red. Lucia was sitting right beside him. Looking like his girlfriend. Looking like his bodyguard. The counselor spoke first. “Noah, Paul. We need to clear the air regarding this thesis dispute right now.” Paul instantly started weeping on camera. “Professor, I swear I didn’t steal anything.” “Lucia gave me the footage. I swear I thought Noah said it was okay.” “He’s been mad at me ever since we were at the train station. I had no idea he was going to take it this far.” I didn’t say a word. I just dragged my raw camera files, cloud backups, and the creation dates of my script notes into the Zoom chat box. “I shot the footage.” “I wrote the voiceover.” “Paul had absolutely zero involvement.” The class president, who was also on the call, squinted at his screen and muttered, “Yeah… the timestamps definitely line up with Noah’s timeline.” Paul’s face went chalk-white. He whipped his head to look at Lucia. “Lucia, please, tell them!” I looked at her on the screen too. Even after everything, some pathetic, naive part of me thought she might finally tell a single ounce of the truth. Lucia stared at her webcam for a few seconds. Then, she spoke. “The raw footage is technically Noah’s.” The tight knot in my chest loosened for a fraction of a second. But her next sentence dragged me straight to the bottom of the ocean. “But Paul spent a lot of time editing it, color grading it, and rethinking the narrative structure. You can’t just call it theft. It was a collaboration.” I stared at the pixelated version of the girl I had loved for four years. I didn’t even recognize her. “Lucia, do you hear the words coming out of your mouth?” She scowled. “Noah, stop being so aggressive.” “Blowing this up isn’t going to do you any favors.” I laughed out loud. “Do me any favors?” “My train ticket was refunded. My hotel room was hijacked. The shirt my dead father bought me was torn to shreds. My thesis film was stolen and submitted under his name.” “And now my job offer is suspended.” “Tell me, Lucia. What part of this exactly is doing me a favor?” The Zoom room was dead silent. Paul sniffled, holding up his phone to the camera. He had pulled up a screenshot of his texts. I’ll handle Noah. He’s a pushover. He won’t actually do anything about it. Just submit the film. Let me do the talking. Everyone on the call could clearly see the contact name at the top: Lucia. Lucia’s face drained of color. Paul sobbed even harder. “Professor, I was just so scared!” “Lucia promised me Noah wouldn’t mind, that’s the only reason I used it! I didn’t want to fail my portfolio review!” “If Noah really wants me to apologize, I’ll do it.” He wiped his nose and looked straight into the webcam. “But Noah, shouldn’t you apologize to me too?” “You screamed at me in the middle of a restaurant. You called me a thief in front of everyone.” Lucia rubbed the bridge of her nose, letting out a long, suffering sigh. “Noah. Just apologize. Let’s move on.” I stared into the screen. “Apologize to who?” “To Paul.” She said it so quietly. But every syllable felt like a blade slicing across my throat. “Just admit it was a miscommunication. I’ll pull some strings with my dad’s company and figure out a way to get your internship back later.” I started laughing again. It echoed off the damp walls of the closet. “Later?” “Lucia, when you left me stranded at the station, you said we’d talk about it later.” “When you locked me in a closet, you said you’d deal with it later.” “When my dad’s shirt was destroyed, you said we’d handle it later.” “When my film was stolen, you still said later.” “Is your definition of ‘later’ just forcing me to get on my knees and take it, over and over again?” Lucia’s jaw tightened. Paul whimpered, “Noah, stop bullying Lucia! She’s trying to help!” The counselor finally chimed in, sounding stressed. “Noah, the optics on this aren’t great for you right now.” “If you two can just settle this privately and issue a joint statement, that would be the cleanest way forward.” I looked down at the scratched screen of my old phone. The red dot was still blinking. From the train station, to the hallway, to the restaurant. I wasn’t recording because I was waiting for some dramatic rescue. I was recording because from the exact second she shoved that coach ticket into my hand, I finally realized I could never rely on her conscience ever again. Every time she told me to grow up, every time she told me to stop being a buzzkill, I just pressed the button. To document the reality I was living in. When my dad passed, I couldn’t bear to throw this crappy phone away. I never expected it would be the only thing left in the world willing to tell the truth for me. On the screen, the professor sighed. “Noah Davis. Do you have anything else to add to the record?” I looked up. I looked at every single face staring back at me in the grid. “Yeah. I do.”

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1 When the fire broke out, the video of Scott rushing into the flames to die with his true love went viral overnight. While the public mourned their tragic romance, some noticed me—trapped in the same burning building, pinned under a collapsed beam, legs twisted at a grotesque angle. In the footage, I stared blankly through smoke as they kissed, my ash-stained fingers trembling while dialing emergency services. “Lmao, that bystander looks traumatized. Watching them kiss probably killed her will to live.” “She looks like a clown who wandered onto a teen drama set.” “I want a love like that—reckless, world-ending, ignoring everyone else.” Scott must have read the comments. He called, rubbing his temples, voice lazy. “Sorry, babe. Didn’t realize you were there. Nancy said she’d never been kissed and begged me before we died. Didn’t expect the media frenzy. Hurt? Need me to pick you up?” I was limping out of the hospital, leaning on a cheap crutch. “It’s fine,” I said quietly. Fine that he hadn’t noticed me. Fine that he didn’t see me hobble past his sports car meters away. Fine that he forgot today was our wedding day. Because I’d already replaced him with a new groom. My new groom was already on his way to pick me up. Watching the GPS tracker on my phone as his car closed the distance, I felt a quiet wave of relief. Then, Scott’s phone line suddenly erupted with laughter from his friends in the background. “Scott, man, you need to start a masterclass. How did you get the proud Vivian to be this submissive?” “Right? You literally skipped your own wedding today to hang out with Nancy, and she didn’t even throw a fit!” My eyelashes fluttered at the sound of my name, but Scott remained silent on the other end. Just as I was about to hang up, his soft chuckle came through the receiver. “Well, looks like I went too far this time. My sweet fiancée is giving me the silent treatment. She is learning to play hard to get.” His tone carried zero worry, only a patronizing amusement at my new tactic. For years, my dependence on him had bordered on obsession, and my methods of showing it had been painfully predictable. If he was thirty minutes late, I would spam his phone with a hundred calls. If there was a trace of lipstick on his collar, I would scream, cry, and shred his designer shirts to pieces. He enjoyed the chase, fully convinced this was just another dramatic performance to get his attention. “Anyway, Nancy is waiting for her seafood chowder,” Scott said, dismissive. “She is just a poor student I sponsor. She has no one else in this city, and I promised I would look after her today.” His friends went quiet, exchange uneasy glances. “Wait, Gav, you’re serious? We thought you were just messing with your girl.” “You’ve postponed this wedding eight times, always because of Nancy. But ditching her on the actual wedding day? Aren’t you worried she’ll actually walk away this time?” “Does she look like she could ever leave me?” Scott replied, his voice light and arrogant. “Besides, the smoke got to my head. It’s only natural I forgot the ceremony. I’ll make it up to her later.” Their voices continued to filter through the speaker. When I heard the words seafood chowder, my heart gave a dull ache. Nancy had only arrived in the city yesterday. During her first meal, she had simply had two bowls of chowder, and Scott had immediately memorized her preference. I stared at the screen, watching the call timer tick upward. It was amusing how he still hadn’t realized I was still on the line. “Don’t mention to Vivian that I’m at the hospital with Nancy,” Scott added, a trace of amusement slipping into his voice. “My fiancée has quite the temper. If she found out I faked forgetting the wedding just to nurse Nancy, she’d probably burn our house down.” I curled my lips into a bitter smile. This time, I didn’t wait for him to finish. I hung up. When Scott walked into the hospital lobby carrying the food, a crowd of reporters swarmed the entrance. The sudden noise made him look back, his gaze lazily sweeping in my direction. My chest tightened. But before our eyes could meet, a dozen cameras thrust into my face, blinding me with flashes. “Excuse me, are you the bystander who witnessed that viral kiss of true love?” “What was it like seeing such a powerful romance unfold right in front of you? Can you share your thoughts?” I looked through the crowd again. Scott had already turned away, walking deeper into the hospital corridors. His suit jacket was slung carelessly over his shoulder, a posture that mirrored the eighteen-year-old boy who had once leaned against a brick wall to shield me. Back then, after taking the brunt of my abusive uncle’s rage for me, Scott had slung his blood-stained jacket over his shoulder just like this, smiling to comfort me. “Stop crying, okay? My bad. I promise you, as long as I’m around, I’ll never let my precious princess get hurt again.” The throbbing pain in my leg snapped me back to reality. My phone buzzed. A message from the new groom: Almost there. I withdrew my gaze, leaned heavily on my crutch to steady myself, and looked directly into the camera lenses. “I wish them a long and happy life together.” In an instant, the sound of shutters and overlapping questions threatened to drown me. I stumbled, my injured leg giving out under the pressure. But before I could fall, a strong, steady hand caught my waist. “Sorry, everyone. She is in a bit of a rush to marry me today. No time for interviews.” The clean, familiar scent of cedarwood enveloped me. I blinked and looked up, meeting Dominic’s amused, dark eyes. Within seconds, he had dismissed the reporters with a few sharp, polite words. He swept me up onto his back, effortlessly snatching the wooden crutch from my hand and tossing it into a nearby bin. “Vivian, did you seriously find a broken table leg in the street and decide it was a crutch?” I squeezed my eyes shut and buried my face into the crook of his neck, remaining silent. Sensing my mood, his grip on my thighs tightened, and he softened his tone. “The bone specialist I flew in from Zurich is already waiting. Let’s get your leg checked first. Don’t worry about the venue; everything is set. Once the doctor clears you, the limo will pick us up.” “Okay,” I mumbled. Before I could say anything else, a group of interns walked past, whispering excitedly. “Is Scott really with that girl Nancy? I thought his fiancée was someone else.” “Are you stupid? If it were fake, he would have denied it. Look at how he carried her out of the ward just because she sprained her ankle. He wouldn’t let her take a single step. Now that’s real love.” We followed the sound of their voices down the corridor and saw Scott. Nancy was cradled in his arms, her hands wrapped tightly around his neck, her face buried shyly against his chest. Dominic carried me past them. The hallway was narrow, and we passed so closely that our clothes brushed. Scott’s eyes swept over us carelessly, but he didn’t stop. He leaned down to whisper something in Nancy’s ear, making her giggle. “You skipped your wedding for me today, leaving Vivian alone at the venue,” Nancy murmured. “Aren’t you worried she’ll be heartbroken, or angry?” “No, I did it on purpose,” Scott replied. “Don’t you think it’s fun when she throws those tantrums? Besides, she slapped you last time and embarrassed you in public. You asked me when I’d get back at her, right? This is it. She is too spoiled. If I’m going to marry her, I need to teach her some humility first.” My fingers tightened around Dominic’s collar until my knuckles turned white. Scott’s friends finally caught up, panting heavily. “But Gav, what if she actually marries someone else out of spite? You know how these old-money families are. They’ll grab a random stand-in just to save face.” Scott let out a quiet laugh. “Please. No one else could ever catch her eye. With her temper, if her family tried to force a substitute groom on her, she’d probably wreck the entire banquet hall.” The group burst into laughter, their chuckles echoing off the tiled walls like slaps to my face. The humiliation was suffocating, making me want to vanish. I tugged at Dominic’s collar. “Let’s go, please.” “Dominic?” The familiar voice stopped us in our tracks. I froze entirely, but Dominic remained perfectly calm, turning slowly to face Scott. “Yeah, it’s me.” Scott looked Dominic up and down, raising an eyebrow. “When did you get back to the States?” “Just came back to get married,” Dominic replied smoothly. He gestured slightly toward me. “Meet my fiancée.” Scott’s gaze drifted over to me, but I kept my face buried in Dominic’s shoulder, hiding completely. After a tense silence, Scott let out a slow breath. “Well, look at you, settling down. I thought you’d be the last of us to tie the knot. Congratulations.” Dominic offered a faint, unreadable smile. Before turning away, he slipped a gold-embossed card into Scott’s hand. “Here is the address. The reception is tonight.” Scott looked down at the invitation. The address felt strangely familiar. He looked back at the girl on Dominic’s back, a sudden frown crossing his features. “Wait.” My heart hammered against my ribs, terrified he had recognized me. But in the next second, Scott turned to a passing nurse. “Wait. It’s time to change Nancy’s dressings.” I closed my eyes, realizing how foolish I had been to hold my breath. After my checkup was complete and my leg was freshly bandaged, I finally sat in the back of the wedding limo. My phone vibrated with a text from Scott. The doctor said you got hurt too. Why didn’t you tell me? I didn’t reply. Twenty minutes later, another message arrived. Since you’re discharged, go straight home. I’ll worry, wifey. I stared at the word wifey. It was his signature peace offering. I let out a dry laugh, marveling at how perfectly he manipulated my feelings. It reminded me of a night long ago. I had spent hours setting up a romantic dinner, hoping to take our relationship to the next level. The candles were burning low, and the wine was poured. But when his lips were inches from mine, his thumb had gently brushed my chin, pulling back. “We should save this for our wedding night, Vivian. I want to respect you, wifey.” The warmth in his eyes back then had felt so genuine, so protective. I had believed he was the most honorable man in the world. Until a few months later, when I accidentally overheard him talking to his friends at a lounge. “Gav, you and Nancy have crossed every line, but you won’t even touch Vivian? Are you really saving her for marriage, or do you just find her repulsive?” Scott had paused, tapping the ash off his cigarette. “I can’t help it. Every time I think about how her uncle cornered her when she was eighteen, it just makes my skin crawl. Since she is already damaged goods, it is only fair that I have some fun before the wedding, right?” At that moment, it felt as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over my head. The trauma of my eighteenth year, the locked parlor room, the spiked drink, and my desperate, failed struggle before Scott broke the door down, all of it came rushing back. He had saved me, yes, but he had secretly judged me for the nightmare I couldn’t escape. Since that day, I had stopped fighting with him. I had stopped calling. But he had been too self-absorbed to notice the silence. As the stylist finished securing my veil, my phone rang again. It was Scott. “The fire left me a bit dazed, so I lost track of the date,” his voice came through the speaker, slow and deliberate. “It’s too late for me to make it to the venue now. So, do you want to keep sitting there in your gown like an idiot, or go home and rest? It’s your call.” He was waiting. He was waiting for me to scream, to cry, to beg him to come. I looked at my reflection in the mirror, adjusting my lipstick. “It’s fine, Scott. Actually, I—” A loud crash of shattering glass cut me off on his end, followed by Nancy’s sharp cry. Scott’s tone lost all of its calm composure. “We’ll talk tonight.” The line went dead. I stared at the screen, finding it almost funny. I had wanted to tell him that our engagement had been officially dissolved by my family, and that my groom had been replaced. I wasn’t waiting for him, and I was never going back to his house. But I suppose it didn’t matter anymore. I smiled at my reflection, gathered the skirt of my wedding dress, and walked out of the dressing room. My wedding with Dominic proceeded exactly as scheduled. While the ceremony was underway, Scott was finally tucking Nancy into bed after feeding her dinner. When his phone rang, he answered it casually. But the words from the speaker froze him instantly. “Scott, are you playing some kind of sick joke on us? Didn’t you say the wedding was postponed?” “Did you secretly decide to go through with it because she looked too beautiful in her dress? We’re looking at her right now!” “By the way, Dominic is getting married tonight too, right across the hall from you. Did you guys plan this? You’re literally having competing receptions across the corridor!”

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We had been blissfully dating online for three months. But the moment we finally met in person, he realized he had added the wrong girl. Connor, our university’s golden boy, swept his gaze over me with an annoyed frown. “I don’t know why you pretended to be the department sweetheart to add me,” he said coldly, “but you’re really not my type. Let’s just delete each other and pretend none of this ever happened.” I nodded, swallowing my embarrassment, and hesitated for a long moment before finding the courage to speak up. “Before we delete each other, could you send me your roommate’s Instagram?” After all, I had just realized that I, too, had added the wrong guy. 1 The silence that followed my words was deafening. Connor’s finger hovered over the screen, freezing right before he could hit block. He stared at me, looking as if he had misheard, his voice cautious. “My roommate? Who? Nolan?” My face burned as he hit the nail on the head. I lowered my head and gave a soft, embarrassed mumble of agreement. Nolan was Hudson University’s resident genius, boasting looks that rivaled Connor’s. Countless girls had crushed on him, so it wasn’t hard to guess. But unlike Connor, whose list of rumors and exes was endless, Nolan was an untouchable, quiet academic. No one had ever managed to get close to him. Connor went silent for a long time, so long that I couldn’t help but look up, ready to plead my case. After all, a girl like me had zero overlap with Nolan’s social circle. “Is it that difficult? I think I actually tried to add him before, but I got the accounts mixed up. If it’s too much trouble, you can just tell me his handle.” Back then, to get Nolan’s Instagram, I had volunteered to write a feature piece on the university’s top student dorms. I ended up adding every single guy from the top three apartments. With so many new contacts flooding in at once, I must have swapped their handles. Well. No wonder things had felt so strange. The Nolan I had been chatting with wasn’t distant or cold at all. In fact, we hit it off so quickly that he confessed his feelings to me within weeks. It turned out to be a massive mix-up. Connor’s expression grew incredibly complex. “Why do you want to reach him?” he asked, trying to sound casual. My mind raced, and I blurted out a perfect excuse. “The student council wants him to record a promotional video for the upcoming semester, but I couldn’t find his direct contact info.” Connor pondered this for another moment before giving a barely perceptible nod. “Fine. How about this? I’ll send you his contact info, and you send me Sienna’s. But let me warn you, Nolan is an arrogant prick. He might not even give you the time of day.” 2 Hearing him mention Sienna’s name again sent a dull ache through my chest. I barely processed his warning, simply nodding like a robot while forcing a smile. I stared at our chat screen, waiting for him to send the contact card. It was incredibly mortifying. On my screen, the very last message Connor had sent me was still sitting there, glowing in the dim light. Babe, can I kiss you when we finally meet? My cheeks flared up. Who could have predicted such a cruel twist of fate? In the span of five minutes, a passionate boyfriend had reverted into a complete stranger. To spare both of us further awkwardness, I tapped the settings and cleared our entire three-month chat history with one tap. Connor caught my movement out of the corner of his eye. His expression darkened further, but he said nothing as he sent over the contact card. I tapped it open immediately, zooming in on the profile picture. Ah. So this was Nolan’s actual account. Their profile pictures were remarkably similar, a dark, minimalist aesthetic. It was an easy mistake to make. I quickly screenshotted the card and tapped the top right corner of Connor’s profile, preparing to delete him as agreed. But before my finger could land, a cold hand wrapped around my wrist. “Let’s not delete each other just yet,” Connor said suddenly. He seemed to search for a reasonable explanation before adding, “Just keep the chat logs cleared. Once I successfully add Sienna, you can remove me. Also, let’s keep this little mix-up between us. I can transfer you ten thousand dollars to make up for your wasted time.” There was a strange, unreadable look in Connor’s eyes as he spoke. But I didn’t dwell on it. He was a legendary figure on campus, a wealthy heir from the finance department. Naturally, he wouldn’t want anyone to know he had spent three months sweet-talking the wrong girl online. Paying for silence was standard procedure for guys like him. Ten thousand dollars was probably just the price of one of his designer jackets. But to me, it was enough to cover my living expenses for a long time. Besides, he had given me Nolan’s real contact info. Any way I looked at it, I was coming out ahead. “Deal,” I said. Under Connor’s darkening gaze, I gave a casual wave of my phone and walked away. 3 The moment I turned the corner, the fake smile slid off my face. I couldn’t pretend to be strong anymore. When I first realized we had added the wrong people, I had hesitated. Even if it was a mistake, the three months of late-night conversations, the shared secrets, and the constant companionship had been real. The butterflies in my stomach and the genuine affection weren’t illusions. Nolan, on the other hand, was just a distant crush, someone I admired from afar but had never actually known. If Connor had shown even a shred of hesitation back there, I would have suggested we try again, starting over as our real selves. But Connor had been so cold, so decisive. He didn’t want me. From the very beginning, the girl he had been looking for was Sienna. 4 On the walk back to my dorm, I couldn’t stop the tears from spilling over. By the time I composed myself and slipped into my room, the lights were about to go out. Connor’s transfer had already cleared. His promptness was a clear reminder to keep my mouth shut around Sienna. Following our agreement, I cleared our brief transaction history and took a deep breath. I turned to Sienna and told her that Connor wanted to add her. Sienna froze, a look of pure delight washing over her face. Still, she seemed skeptical, asking me to confirm multiple times. “Connor from the finance department? Are you guys close? Why would he ask you for my contact?” I made up a plausible lie on the spot. “I interviewed him for a campus piece a while back. He happened to find out we were roommates and asked if I could connect you two.” Sienna nodded, glancing at my empty chat screen with Connor, and didn’t press further. “Thanks, Tessa.” Her eyes sparkled as she stared at her screen. True to form, Connor didn’t make her wait. A second later, her notification light blinked. I climbed up to my bunk and drew the curtains shut, wanting to block out the world. I couldn’t bear to watch them hit it off. But as I closed my eyes, sleep refused to come. For the past three months, my entire life had revolved around my phone. At this exact hour, I would usually be pacing the hallway, whispering sweet nothings into the receiver, or exchanging blushing texts. Just last night, I was imagining walking down the campus avenue under the canopy of old trees with my boyfriend, showing him the stray orange cat I fed behind the library, and booking study rooms together. Now, those dreams were reduced to ash, leaving a hollow ache in my chest. Across the room, the constant pinging of Sienna’s phone and the soft click of her typing served as a relentless reminder. Let it go, Tessa. It’s over. All of Connor’s patience and affection had been meant for Sienna. Even when he whispered those sweet promises, the face in his mind had been hers, never mine. Since he had corrected the course, I needed to stop drowning in the past. I typed out one final message to Connor, a polite notice before removing him for good. Hey Connor, I’ve passed along your contact to Sienna. I’ll be deleting you now, as promised. 5 No goodbyes. There was no point. I paused for a brief second, preparing to tap the block button, when a reply popped up. Wait. My finger froze. The status at the top of the screen changed to ‘typing…’, but no message came through for a long time. After what felt like an eternity, he finally sent a follow-up. I just remembered, the imported medicine you asked me to get for your grandmother has already been shipped by my friend. It should arrive in about two weeks. Let’s keep each other added until I can hand it over to you. His words jarred my memory. A few weeks ago, I had offhandedly mentioned that my grandmother’s heart condition required a specific imported medication that was incredibly difficult to find locally. Connor had immediately offered to have a friend source it from abroad. I quickly typed back. Thank you, Connor. I completely forgot about that. Let’s keep each other added until the medicine arrives. A few seconds passed before a simple reply came back. Okay. I realized I should pay him first. By the way, how much was the medicine and shipping? I can transfer the money to you now. My family wasn’t well-off, and my grandmother usually refused to buy expensive medication to save money. But the money Connor had just sent me was more than enough to cover the cost. I waited for his reply, staring at the screen until my eyes began to burn. No response came. A wave of bitterness washed over me. Before today, Connor would reply to my messages within seconds. Even if I had a nightmare in the middle of the night, he would stay awake to soothe me. Now, our texts were stiff, distant, and colder than those of mere acquaintances. “Oh my god, Connor, your gaming rank is insane! You have to carry me tonight!” Sienna’s sweet voice suddenly echoed through the quiet dorm. My chest tightened. He wasn’t replying to me because he was already busy playing games with Sienna. Sienna had her headphones on, but she laughed, her voice dripping with affection. “My voice isn’t that pretty. You’re just saying that to flatter me.” “Be honest, how many girls have you used that line on?” “Come on, a guy like you must have a long line of admirers. Don’t lie to me, or your next food delivery won’t come with utensils!” Her giggles were endless. Even though she tried to keep her voice down, the sound pierced right through me, bringing a flood of sorrow. Their beginning was going much smoother than ours ever had. I suppose this was how it was always meant to be. I found my earplugs, shoving them in to drown out the noise, and let the tears flow freely in the dark. 6 After that painful wake-up call, I didn’t have the courage to reach out to the real Nolan. I dragged myself through each day, pasting on a fake smile, though my energy was entirely depleted. Moving on takes time, I kept telling myself. It was just a silly misunderstanding. I’ll get over it. But while I was struggling to stay afloat, Sienna and Connor were thriving. Connor started showing up in Sienna’s life constantly. He would walk her to her 8 AM lectures, wait in long lines at the cafeteria to buy her favorite meals, and sit patiently for hours outside her dance studio while she practiced. Sienna brought back designer snacks and pastries to the dorm daily, gushing about his thoughtfulness. Their social media feeds were filled with subtle hints of romantic dates and luxury gifts. Within a week, the entire campus knew they were official. They were the perfect, high-profile couple, radiant and envied by everyone. Unlike me. I was just a shadow who had briefly stolen a piece of someone else’s affection in a digital world. I began actively avoiding any place where Connor might appear. But with our campus being so small and Sienna being in my department, encounters were inevitable. One afternoon, in a narrow, quiet corridor, I stumbled upon them. Against the backdrop of a fiery sunset reflecting through the floor-to-ceiling windows, Sienna stood on her tiptoes, pressing a soft kiss against Connor’s lips. Connor’s gaze darkened with intensity as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into a deep, passionate kiss. I froze, my mind going entirely blank. I forgot to turn around, forgot to run. It was only when Connor’s hand slid down to tickle Sienna’s waist, causing her to let out a soft gasp, that I snapped out of it. My eyes locked right into Connor’s. His gaze was cold and annoyed, as if I were an intrusive pest ruining their moment. A shiver ran down my spine. “Sorry,” I whispered, turning to flee as fast as my legs could carry me. I didn’t stop running until I burst out of the academic building, gasping for air. But before I could even catch my breath, my phone vibrated. The profile picture I had tried so hard to forget was lighting up my screen. Tessa, didn’t we agree to end this gracefully? I hope you’ll stop staring at Sienna and me. If she finds out even a tiny detail, I won’t let it slide. Also, please stop any feelings that shouldn’t be there.

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1 For my birthday, I booked a private banquet room at the finest hotel in town. The guests, friends, and colleagues had all arrived, and the atmosphere was perfect. But just as the dinner was about to begin, the hotel host smiled and tapped the microphone. “Next up, let’s welcome our two birthday stars to the stage!” I froze. Two? Then, Becca, a colleague notorious around the office for her cheap, freeloading ways, walked up to the stage with a beaming smile. “Surprise, everyone! Naomi and I actually planned this together. Our birthdays are on the exact same day, so we figured, why not share the party? The more the merrier!” She turned to me, her voice dripping with mock warmth. “Right, babe? We’re practically sisters. Today’s feast is on us, so please, don’t hold back!” She smiled sweetly, clearly betting that with the company executives watching, I wouldn’t dare make a scene to call her out. Looking at the party I had poured my heart and hard-earned money into designing, only to have her hijack it, a cold sneer formed in my chest. Fine. Since she loved celebrating her birthday so much, I would make sure today became a day she would never forget as long as she lived. Listening to Becca’s shameless speech, I trembled with rage. When had I ever agreed to share my birthday? I stood up, preparing to object, but the senior executives in the front row were already leading a round of applause. “Wonderful concept! It’s both economical and lively. Our younger staff really know how to think outside the box.” “The venue looks stunning too. Since the organizer has such talent, maybe we should hand over the company’s annual gala to our younger employees next year.” Hearing this, Becca’s eyes lit up. She nodded eagerly, taking full credit for the planning without a shred of hesitation. I was utterly dumbfounded. Not only had she hijacked my party, but she was also stealing my work as a stepping stone to boost her own career. We weren’t even close, let alone friends. I couldn’t let this slide. I took a step forward, ready to storm the stage, but my immediate supervisor grabbed my wrist. He had clearly sensed the tension and knew something was off, but he hissed a quiet warning in my ear. “Naomi, I don’t care what’s going on here, but you cannot make a scene right now. Those executives are from headquarters, and they absolutely despise office politics. If you ruin this event, not only will you be fired, but our entire branch will suffer the consequences.” His words felt like a bucket of ice water, completely extinguishing my hot rage. I froze. Marcus was right. I had spent so much money on this dinner to make a good impression on the higher-ups and secure a promotion. If I blew things up now, even if I exposed Becca, my career at the firm would be finished. But swallowing this bitter pill felt like choking on glass. Before I could figure out what to do, Becca called my name. She smiled and pulled me up onto the stage, playing the generous mentor who loved supporting the younger generation. “And here is my dear friend, Naomi, who shares this special day with me! She’s still a junior, but she’s incredibly sharp. She was a huge help in bringing my vision to life.” With a few sweet words, she erased all my effort, framing my hard work as merely helping her, while presenting herself as the benevolent senior sharing the spotlight. The executives looked at her with growing admiration. In their eyes, Becca was already a highly capable, generous mentor. My throat felt dry, but under the gaze of the corporate elite, I could only plaster on a fake smile and nod. When that agonizing segment finally ended, I rushed backstage to find my work friends to vent, but they avoided my gaze, slipping away like I was infectious. 2 They whispered behind my back. “I can’t believe Naomi. Why didn’t she tell us she was sharing the party with Becca? She told us not to bring cash gifts, so we only bought a small present for her. Now we look incredibly awkward in front of Becca.” “Honestly, she seems so calculating. Her family always seemed well-off, but she’s just as cheap as Becca. Maybe that’s how she saves her money, by freeloading off others.” My chest tightened. They already saw us as birds of a feather. The office relationships I had spent months carefully nurturing had vanished in a single instant. Trembling with frustration, I grabbed a passing server. “What is going on here? Who gave you permission to add another person to my booking?” The server looked bewildered. After checking my original booking and communication logs, her face grew serious, and she apologized profusely. “I am so sorry, Ms. Naomi. Our staff must have made a terrible error. Please wait here. I’ll get the manager to clear this up immediately.” I stood there, arms crossed, waiting for a proper explanation. Soon, the manager walked over, his expression stiff. Before I could even start complaining, he cut me off with an irritated tone. “Ms. Naomi, we’ve reviewed the situation. There has been no error on our end. Ms. Becca came to us this morning and explicitly told us this was a shared party. We even scrambled to add extra staff, and we didn’t even charge you for the extra labor. We’ve been more than accommodating. Besides, if you didn’t agree to it, why didn’t you say anything on stage?” I stared at him, my anger boiling over. “Are you serious right now? Your staff made a massive blunder, and now you’re blaming me for not starting a fistfight in front of my company’s board of directors? Anyone can just walk in, claim they share a reservation, and you don’t even bother to verify it with the person who paid the deposit? Is this how a luxury hotel operates?” The manager stuttered, unable to find a logical excuse under my fierce gaze. Instead, he resorted to condescending lecturing. “Look, young lady, why must you be so difficult? Life is about relationships. Your colleague just got praised by the executives, meaning her future is bright. Instead of using this chance to build a connection, you’re here trying to pick a fight over petty details. Besides, didn’t you get the party you paid for? The venue, the food, the service, it’s all here. You got what you wanted, didn’t you?” I could barely believe my ears. Not only were they refusing to fix their mistake, but they were actually lecturing me on business etiquette. “What did I get? Why should I spend my hard-earned money just so someone else can ride my coattails for free? Your hotel completely breached the contract we signed! Either you offer me a reasonable compensation plan right now, or I demand a full refund!” The moment “full refund” left my mouth, the manager’s face darkened, and he let out a sneering laugh. “I knew it. A young girl like you couldn’t actually afford a banquet of this scale. You’re just trying to find an excuse to scam us out of a free meal, aren’t you?” Just then, Becca walked over, wearing a sickeningly sweet, placating smile. “Oh, Naomi, don’t ruin a perfectly good birthday by fighting. The manager is right. You got your party, so demanding a refund is just cheap. We can’t behave like freeloaders, can we?” The manager nodded eagerly. “Exactly! Ms. Becca is far more reasonable. No wonder the executives like her.” The two of them stood there, tag-teaming to gaslight me, completely ignoring the rage radiating from me. “Manager, is it time to bring out the cake? Everyone is waiting,” Becca asked. The manager turned to order the staff, but I snapped, “What cake? That cake was custom-made for my birthday, and I paid for it. Who said you could serve it? I don’t consent!” Becca grabbed my arm, her tone dripping with mock sisterly correction. “Come on, Naomi, stop acting like a spoiled brat. I told you, we’re sharing. I brought a cake too. We’ll bring them both out, blow the candles together, and make it twice as fun!” Despite my sharp refusal, the manager rolled his eyes and barked at a nearby server. “What are you standing there for? Go bring the cakes out! If you waste any more time, I’m docking your pay for the month!” Terrified of losing her salary, the server scurried away. Before I could argue further, the pastry carts were rolled into the banquet hall. Leading the way was my custom-made, five-tier birthday cake, covered in intricate frosting and delicate sugar flowers. But right behind it, resting in a giant, greasy stainless steel mixing basin, was a pile of dry, cheap, yellow grocery-store sponge muffins. 3 The guests stared in absolute silence at the giant steel basin of dry yellow muffins. I wanted to laugh from sheer rage. I turned to Becca. “Is this what you called a cake? Who brings a metal basin of cheap muffins to a high-end banquet?” Becca gasped, looking offended. “Naomi, how can you say that? A cake is a cake! Back in my parents’ day, getting an egg on your birthday was a luxury! Your cake looks fancy, but it’s probably packed with artificial colors and chemical preservatives. I didn’t even criticize you for bringing such unhealthy food to our colleagues, and now you’re judging my muffins?” Furious at her twisted logic, I shook her hand off my arm and headed toward the stage to wheel my custom cake away. But before I could even climb the stairs, Becca shouted into the microphone. “Oh, Naomi! You’re so eager to cut the cake! I get it, you’re young, and seeing such a pretty cake is exciting. Since you’re so enthusiastic, I’ll let you do the honors of slicing it for everyone!” With those sweet words, she effectively claimed my custom five-tier cake as her own. To the crowd, it now looked like I was the one who had brought a giant basin of cheap muffins to share. The looks of disgust and confusion from my colleagues intensified. No one could understand why anyone would bring a dog bowl of dry sponge muffins to a professional gathering. Becca walked onto the stage, took the silver cake knife, and began cutting my expensive cake. I watched in silence as she sliced the finest, most beautifully decorated portions of my cake and served them directly to the senior executives and managers, eager to curry favor. Meanwhile, the regular staff were handed the dry, yellow muffins from the metal basin, some of which had been clumsily scooped out with a metal spoon, looking like mashed potatoes. My colleagues stared at the dry muffins on their plates, their faces grim. Nobody took a single bite. They only remained in the room out of respect for the executives, not because they wanted to celebrate with us. I clenched my fists so hard my knuckles turned white. My money, my planning, and my special night had been ruined, and I had managed to alienate half the office because of her stunt. The executives took a few polite bites of my cake, their estimation of Becca rising even higher. Becca liked to play poor, but her family wasn’t actually broke. The heavy gold chains and rings she wore today were particularly flashy. The executives, unfamiliar with her reputation, assumed she was the one who had ordered the gorgeous five-tier cake. One of them looked at me and offered a patronizing lecture. “Naomi, it’s great that you wanted to celebrate with your colleagues, but you shouldn’t compromise on quality just because of your personal budget.” “This is just a private party, so a basin of muffins is fine. But if you handle a company gala like this in the future, it would reflect poorly on our firm.” The anger finally broke through. I opened my mouth to defend myself. “Actually, that cake was—” Before I could finish, Becca lunged forward, her elbow slamming violently into my ribs. The sharp pain took my breath away. She quickly turned to the executive, smiling warmly. “Please don’t mind her, sir. Junior staff often lack experience with these things. Don’t worry, I’ll mentor her closely to make sure she doesn’t make this kind of mistake again.” Then, she turned to me, her voice dripping with mock sisterly teasing that firmly pinned the blame on me. “Naomi, you’ll have to make it up to everyone with some real cakes next week, okay? Otherwise, nobody will want to work with you!” Staring at the judging eyes of my colleagues and the dismissive nods of the executives, I couldn’t take it anymore. I turned and ran out of the banquet hall. Standing in the cool night air outside the hotel, I took several deep breaths to calm my racing heart. Becca wanted to share my birthday so badly? Fine. Since I had already paid the deposit, it was only fair that she handled the rest of the bill.

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1 Ten years after my husband’s death, I took my son to a youth science competition. There, a group of people pointed at him, calling him a fatherless bastard. Just as I was about to rush over, the man on the judging panel beat me to it. He scooped up the other woman’s little girl in his arms. “Don’t cry, Penny,” he said softly. “Daddy’s here.” I had listened to that exact voice for ten long years. Everyone had told me he was dead. I had clung to a single black and white photograph, gave birth to his son, and dragged my failing body through nine years of poverty to raise our child alone. But he was alive. He had changed his name, become a respected professor, and married the heiress of a wealthy foundation. When his eyes finally met mine, the trophy in his hand slipped and shattered on the polished floor. I looked at him, forcing a quiet smile. “Professor Silas, do you know who I am?” … The main lobby of the exhibition hall was a chaotic storm of crying children and shouting parents. By the time I pushed through the crowd, Peter was cornered in a dark alcove by two security guards. The sleeve of his school jacket was torn, and blood was slowly pooling on the back of his hand. A little girl in a white dress sat on the floor nearby, sobbing as she clutched a shattered model bridge. The woman standing next to her looked on with a face of pure ice. “Are you Peter’s mother?” she demanded as I approached. I ignored her, kneeling down in front of Peter first. “Does it hurt, sweetheart?” Peter bit his lower lip, trying to blink back his tears. “Mom, I didn’t push her. I swear.” The woman’s voice immediately went up an octave. “Your son destroyed my daughter’s project, and now he’s lying to your face?” I stood up, shielding Peter behind me. “Your daughter crying does not automatically make my son guilty.” Her expression darkened. “Excuse me?” Before another word could be traded, a man walked over from the judges’ table. He wore a sharp, deep gray suit, and his ID badge read: Silas, Professor of Structural Engineering. He knelt, lifting the crying girl into his arms with a tender, gentle voice that cut through me like a razor. “Don’t cry, Penny. Daddy’s here.” Daddy. Silas. My fingers turned numb. Peter looked up at him, whispering, “Mom, he looks just like the dad in our photo.” My throat tightened so much I could barely breathe. It wasn’t a mere resemblance. It was Arthur. My husband. The man who had supposedly died in a tunnel collapse ten years ago. The little girl wrapped her arms around his neck, sobbing into his shoulder. “Daddy, he broke my bridge. Make him apologize.” Arthur stroked her hair gently. “Alright, sweetheart. Daddy will handle it.” I stared at his face, my voice trembling but cold. “And how exactly do you plan to handle it, Professor Silas?” He whipped his head toward me. In that single second, his entire body went rigid. His eyes widened with absolute shock, followed quickly by a wave of pure panic, before he finally averted his gaze in shame. I took a step forward. “Why are you silent, Professor?” His lips parted slightly. “You…” I cut him off. “My name is Evelyn. Evelyn Wantang. Does that name sound familiar to you, Professor Silas?” His face lost all color. The woman beside him frowned, looking between us. “Silas? Do you know this woman?” I let out a soft, bitter laugh. “Silas?” The woman wrapped her arm tightly around his, her tone turning slow and possessive. “I am his wife, Vivian. Ma’am, if your child made a mistake, it would be best if you didn’t try to change the subject.” I looked at her hand. The diamond ring on her finger was blinding, its reflection stinging my eyes. “Mrs. Vivian,” I said, “let’s look at the security cameras first.” Vivian sneered. “Is that really necessary? All these children saw what happened.” Peter spoke up, his voice cracking with emotion. “She dropped it herself! And she told me I didn’t have a father!” Vivian’s face fell. “Do not make excuses, child.” I knelt down and faced Peter. “Tell me exactly what she said.” Peter’s eyes welled with tears. “She said the father’s section on my registration form was empty. She said my mom is a liar and my dad abandoned us because he didn’t want me.” The lobby fell into a tense silence. Arthur’s hand trembled visibly. I stood up and faced him. “Professor, you’re an engineer. You value evidence. Shall we review the footage, or should I call the police?” Arthur’s voice was barely a whisper. “No need for the police.” “Then we check the cameras,” I demanded. Vivian glared at him. “Silas, what are you doing? Look how hard Penny is crying.” “My son is bleeding,” I shot back. “Do you not see that?” Arthur reached out toward me, his fingers trembling as if he wanted to reach for my sleeve. “Evelyn…” I stepped back, out of his reach. “Please address me as Peter’s mother, Professor.” His hand remained frozen in midair. The staff brought up the security footage on the main monitor. The video clearly showed Penny grabbing Peter’s sketches first. Peter tried to pull them back, and Penny, stepping backward, tripped over a desk corner and dropped her own bridge. Peter hadn’t touched her. Vivian’s face burned with embarrassment. Penny’s crying gradually died down. Peter wiped his tears with his sleeve, looking down at his shoes. I gently stroked his hair. “Peter, look up.” He raised his head. “You did nothing wrong,” I told him, making sure my voice carried. “You never need to hang your head.” He choked back a sob and nodded. “Okay, Mom.” I turned back to Vivian. “Apologize.” Vivian gritted her teeth. “She is just a child.” “My son is also a child.” Arthur finally spoke up. “Vivian, make Penny apologize.” I locked eyes with him immediately. “Not just the child.” Vivian glared at me. “Don’t push your luck.” I let out a cold, hollow laugh. “Your daughter called my son a fatherless bastard, and you think I am pushing my luck?” Arthur lowered his voice, pleading. “Evelyn, let’s not make a scene here.” I stared at him, my chest feeling as though it were packed with shattered glass. “A scene?” “Arthur, you are standing here, alive, letting another woman’s child call you father.” “And you are telling me that I am making a scene?” Vivian whipped her head to face him, her eyes wide with sudden realization. “Arthur?” I looked at her. “So, you can’t bear to hear that name either.” Arthur’s face went completely gray. “Evelyn, I can explain.” “Let them apologize first,” I demanded. He was silent for a moment, then turned to Vivian. “Apologize.” Vivian’s gaze was sharp enough to cut. She nudged Penny, who muttered a half-hearted “Sorry.” I kept my eyes on Vivian. She stared back, spitting out three words: “I am sorry.” “Not to me,” I said. “To Peter.” Vivian turned to my son, her voice tight. “I’m sorry.” Peter didn’t say it was okay. He simply looked up at me. I took his hand. “Let’s go.” Arthur took a few steps after us. “Evelyn, we need to talk.” I stopped and looked back over my shoulder. “Ten years ago, your last words to me were to wait for you.” “You certainly made a grand return, Arthur.” 2 Peter remained quiet all the way home. Our apartment sat behind the old flea market. It was a tiny one bedroom place with peeling wallpaper and a cold stove. Stacks of graded homework from my adult night school classes were piled near the window, and a bowl of cold noodles sat on the small table. Peter sat on a wooden stool, trying to hide his torn sleeve. I brought out the antiseptic and a cotton pad. “Hand.” “Mom,” he whispered, “I didn’t mean to stare at him.” I dabbed the cut on his knuckles. “You can look if you want to.” He bit his lip. “Is he really my dad?” My hand froze. A drop of the brown liquid fell onto the linoleum floor. “Do you want him to be?” I asked quietly. Peter thought for a long time. “The dad in our photos is a hero. The man today wasn’t.” A lump formed in my throat. I looked down, carefully applying a bandage over his cut. “You’re right, Peter.” “Mom, why are you crying?” I touched my cheek, only then realizing I was weeping. “The antiseptic is just strong.” Peter wrapped his small arms around me. “Mom, I don’t want a dad anymore.” I held him tight. “Okay.” “I only need you,” he added. Those words hurt worse than any blade. I wanted to tell him that I might not be able to stay with him much longer, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it. That night, I put Peter to bed. He held onto my sleeve, murmuring, “Mom, don’t leave,” in his sleep. I sat by his bedside until his grip loosened. Half the lights in our tiny living room were broken. I fumbled in the dark for my medication, taking three pills from the bottle. The moment I swallowed them, a sharp pain flared in my chest, forcing me to double over. I gripped the edge of the table, gasping for air as cold sweat poured down my neck. My phone vibrated on the table. It was David. I answered, trying to steady my breathing. His voice was frantic. “Evelyn, you missed your clinic appointment today.” “Something came up,” I managed to say. “Are you in pain again? Where are you? I’ll come get you.” “No, Peter is asleep. Don’t come.” A brief silence followed. “Evelyn, your heart isn’t a joke.” “I’ll go tomorrow,” I promised, clutching the pill bottle. “I don’t trust you.” “Then come block my door tomorrow morning.” “Fine. I’ll be there at seven.” “Don’t bring Peter sweet cinnamon rolls,” I reminded him. “He has a cavity.” “Understood.” I slid down to the floor, leaning my back against the cold wooden cabinet. Ten years ago, when the news of Arthur’s accident arrived, I was two months pregnant. They said the rescue team only found his helmet. No body. No final words. Just a stamped accident report from the company. I hadn’t believed it. I had walked to the construction site, the project office, and his company headquarters with my swelling belly. Some avoided me, some pushed me away, and some told me to stop making a fuss because he was gone. At five months pregnant, I was diagnosed with severe cardiomyopathy. The doctor recommended terminating the pregnancy. I refused. I kept thinking that when Arthur returned, he would be so happy to see our child. I pinned all my hope on Peter. On the day of delivery, my heart failed. It took seven hours to save me. David was the resident doctor who took over my case. He saved my life, and he saved Peter. Later, Arthur’s parents kicked me out of our old apartment, claiming the child in my belly had brought bad luck and killed their son. I held my newborn baby and moved into the warehouse behind the flea market. By day, I collected used books. By night, I taught adult literacy at the community center. When my chest flared, I strapped Peter to my back and knelt on the roadside, waiting for the pain to pass. I thought I had survived the worst. But today, Arthur stood alive before me, holding another woman’s daughter. 3 At seven the next morning, David arrived with breakfast. Peter’s eyes lit up. “Uncle David!” David knelt down, handing him a bag. “Savory breakfast wraps today.” Peter laughed. “Mom said you’re unreliable, but you proved her wrong today.” I walked down the stairs. “When did I say he was unreliable?” David looked up, his expression turning serious. “You look terrible, Evelyn.” “Dr. Brooks, you really know how to ruin a morning,” I sighed. “I’m here to save lives, not to flatter people,” he replied. “Let’s go. Peter, eat your breakfast. I’m taking your mom to the clinic.” Peter looked at me, his brow furrowing. “Mom, are you sick again?” I knelt down to his level. “Just a routine checkup. I’ll be back soon.” He frowned. “Promise?” I offered my pinky. “Promise.” At the hospital, the tests took two hours. David’s frown deepened as he read the reports. “Don’t look at me like that,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. “It’s scary.” “Your cardiac function has dropped again,” he said flatly. “How much time do I have left?” He set the papers down. “Without a transplant, three to six months.” My fingers tightened. “Am I on the list?” “There’s no matching donor yet.” “Then don’t scare me.” “Evelyn, you have to cooperate. You skipped your dose last night.” “I took three pills,” I argued. “You need four.” I closed my eyes. “Fine. Four next time.” The sharp sound of heels echoed in the hallway outside. Vivian stood at the entrance of the clinic, wearing a beige suit and holding a medical folder. She looked at David, then at me. “Evelyn, so you’re here.” I stood up. “Are you looking for me, Mrs. Vivian?” David stepped in front of me. “This is a private consultation.” I patted his arm. “David, give us a moment.” “I don’t recommend it,” he muttered. “I’ll be quick.” Vivian gave a faint smile. “Dr. Brooks seems very devoted to you.” “Get to the point,” I said, walking with her to the stairwell. As soon as the heavy door shut, her smile vanished. “Stay away from Silas.” “His name is Arthur,” I corrected. Her eyes grew cold. “That was his past.” “Then what are Peter and I?” She folded her arms. “An accident.” I let out a soft laugh. “What’s funny?” she snapped. “I’m just laughing at how people like you choose such gentle words to justify cruelty.” She lowered her voice. “Ten years ago, he was always meant to choose me.” “Did you have his child?” I asked. She blinked, then smirked. “You guessed.” “It’s not hard.” She took a step closer. “My father was the primary investor for his project back then. There was an accident, and Arthur was facing criminal negligence charges. One word from my father, and his career would have been over. But my father offered him a way out: change his identity, study abroad, take over new projects, and marry me.” My limbs felt cold, but I didn’t back down. “And his death certificate?” “Part of the deal,” she said. “A dead man is clean. No ex-wife making a scene, no child disputing the estate.” My heart felt squeezed by an iron fist. I leaned against the wall. “And he agreed?” “He hesitated,” she smiled. “But in the end, he got into our car.” The fluorescent lights in the stairwell were blindingly white. I heard my own shallow gasps. “Evelyn, you lost ten years ago,” Vivian sneered. “Don’t come back now to humiliate yourself.” I raised my hand and slapped her hard across the face. She clutched her cheek, shrieking, “You dare strike me?” “That was for the twenty year old version of me, who got thrown out of her home with a child in her belly,” I said. She raised her hand to strike back, but the door flew open. David caught her wrist. “Mrs. Vivian, there are security cameras in this hospital.” I looked at him. “Let her go.” David turned to me, frantic. “Evelyn, does your chest hurt?” “It hurts, but I can still stand.” Vivian’s eyes were red. “Do you think hitting me will bring him back to you?” I looked at her. “You’re mistaken. I find him disgusting.” 4 When we walked out of the hospital, Arthur was waiting near the entrance. He rushed over the moment he saw me. A black luxury car was parked by the curb, and a driver was holding an umbrella for him. I stopped on the steps. “Evelyn,” he said, “I’m so sorry about yesterday.” “Don’t call it ‘yesterday,’” I replied. “You owe me far more than one day.” “I want to talk to you properly.” “Talk about how you rose from the dead?” His expression twisted in pain. “After the accident, my injuries were severe.” “Severe enough to marry an heiress?” “It wasn’t like that.” “Then what was it like?” He stepped closer. “The project liabilities… if I didn’t leave, I was going to prison. My entire team would have been ruined.” “So you left me to be a widow?” “I thought you would move on and start a new life.” “I was pregnant,” I said softly. He froze. The rain pattered heavily against his umbrella. “I wanted to tell you on our last phone call,” I continued. “But you said you had an emergency and told me to wait. I waited ten years, Arthur.” The color drained from his face. “The child… Peter is mine?” I began to tremble, laughing weakly. “You don’t even deserve to ask.” “I didn’t know,” he whispered. “Of course you didn’t. You were too busy changing your name, getting your doctorate, and playing the perfect son-in-law to the foundation.” “Evelyn, I had money sent to my parents every year,” he pleaded, reaching for my arm. “I told them to help you if you ever needed it.” I shoved his hand away. “They threw me out. I was six months pregnant, and they pushed me out of the door, calling me a curse. On the day I gave birth, David was the one who signed my emergency consent form because I had no one else. I never saw a single cent of your money.” He stumbled back. “When Peter was three and had a high fever, I carried him for four blocks in the middle of the night to reach the clinic,” I said. “My chest hurt so badly I collapsed at the emergency room door, and the nurse thought I was a vagrant. When Peter was five, he asked me why his dad didn’t like him. I told him his father was a good man. Arthur, you made me lie to myself and our son for ten years.” His eyes welled with tears. “Evelyn, I am so sorry.” “Those words are too cheap.” “I can make it up to you both,” he insisted. “I can get Peter into the best schools, give him the best life.” “Is that what he missed?” I asked. “He missed having a father stand up for him when he was called a bastard. He missed having someone cook him a warm meal when I was lying in bed with heart failure. He missed ten years of a father’s life. Can you give him that?” Arthur’s tears fell. I felt no pity. “I’ll get a divorce,” he whispered. I smiled. “Don’t. Don’t call your belated guilt love.” “Evelyn, I loved you.” “And I loved you,” I said. “But that version of me died the day you got into that car.” The pain in my chest flared, sharper than before. I bit the inside of my cheek, suppressing the metallic taste of blood. “Your face… you look so pale,” he noticed, stepping forward. “Are you sick?” “It has nothing to do with you.” I turned to leave. After three steps, my vision went black. “Evelyn!” David’s voice echoed from behind. I tried to answer, but warm blood welled in my throat and spilled past my lips, dripping onto the concrete steps. Arthur rushed over. “Evelyn!” With the last of my strength, I pushed him away. “Don’t touch me.”

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1 My best friend and I were the two extremes of our social circle. Greg had run away from seven weddings in three years, earning a reputation as the ultimate commitment-phobe. He swore he’d stay a bachelor until the day he died. On the other hand, my girlfriend and I had been together for eight years, a steady, unbreakable marathon of love. To everyone we knew, I was the most reliable groom-to-be in the world. Until tonight, when Greg broke down, his eyes bloodshot and tears streaming down his face. “I think I’m losing my mind… I actually want to get married. When I’m with her, I’ve never felt so happy.” I smiled, squeezing his shoulder in genuine support. “Then marry her. I’m with you all the way, man.” Greg nodded vigorously, pulling out his phone to call the woman who had finally stolen his elusive heart. Across the line, a familiar, gentle voice spoke, warm and smooth. “Silly. Look up. I knew you’d get drunk, so I’ve been watching you from the front table the entire time.” A sudden warmth touched my chest. I instinctively turned with Greg to look toward the front table. And there she was. Evelyn. My girlfriend of eight years, the woman I was planning to marry. It turned out the legendary commitment-phobe had secretly found his harbor long ago. And our supposedly solid relationship was nothing more than my own pathetic, one-sided play. My glass slammed onto the table, shattering the illusion. Yet Evelyn’s face remained entirely blank, devoid of guilt. She gently helped Greg to his feet and whispered, “Let’s go home. I can explain.” Eight years. Part of me screamed to slap her, to rage and shout. But this was eight years, a full quarter of my life. How could I just throw it away like garbage? With bloodshot eyes, I quietly followed them into the car. The moment Evelyn helped Greg into the passenger seat, his phone’s Bluetooth automatically synced to the dashboard. An automated voice chimed: [Greg’s Hubby Phone connected. Prepare for a wave of love songs. Are you ready, Ms. Evelyn?] Greg’s voice blared over the speakers in a dizzying hum. I sat in the back, dazed. This was my very first time riding in Evelyn’s car. Whenever I had asked to drive it, she always claimed she needed the car to transport high-profile clients, saying a man’s sweat would ruin the pristine interior. Even when I promised I was clean, she would only offer a patronizing smile. “Come on, sweetie, let’s not argue.” But right now, the cabin was thick with the scent of Greg’s absinthe, heavy and mixed with the unmistakable smell of sweat. Evelyn didn’t even blink. The tears finally spilled over, scalding my skin and burning deep into my chest. Even so, I couldn’t bring myself to scream at her. I was terrified of the finality of it. I wanted to run, to pretend tonight was nothing but a nightmare. But dreams eventually end. Greg mumbled, “Evelyn…” As Evelyn leaned over to buckle his seatbelt, Greg pulled her in for a sloppy, wet kiss. Evelyn merely patted his hand away with a soft chuckle. “Behave.” My heart fractured piece by piece. The pain finally pierced my soul, tearing me apart. Evelyn had a severe germophobia. If I so much as touched her hand without using sanitizer first, she would immediately flinch away. Yet here she was, letting a drunk, sweaty man kiss her without a hint of disgust. I looked down at my own hands. I could still smell the chemical scent of hand sanitizer on my skin, mixing with the heavy alcohol fumes in the car, making me physically sick. I rolled down the window to breathe, but Evelyn immediately rolled it back up, throwing me a disapproving look. “Greg is drunk and sweating. He’ll catch a cold if the wind hits him.” A bitter laugh escaped my throat. “So you do know how to care for someone.” Evelyn frowned. “Drop the sarcasm. I told you, I will explain everything.” As she drove, Greg suddenly lunged across the console, grabbing her to kiss her again. Just then, a car in the adjacent lane tried to overtake them. With her vision blocked, Evelyn swerved violently. The rear of the car slammed hard into the overtaking vehicle. The impact threw me violently against the side panel. Glass shattered, and my head slammed against the steel frame. Warm blood instantly began trickling down my face. Yet, compared to the physical blow, the pain in my chest was blinding. I realized right then that I didn’t need her explanation anymore. I didn’t need anything from her ever again. The other driver got out, screaming curses, but Greg remained dazed, clutching Evelyn’s arm. Evelyn frowned, gently pulling her arm free, and glanced back at me. “Can you walk?” she asked. I stared at her, blood dripping from my forehead. “Take Greg to the hospital,” she said, stepping out of the car. “Make sure you look after him.” I looked at my blood-soaked reflection in the window and let out a self-deprecating laugh. “Evelyn, are you blind?” “Look at me. How can you say that with a straight face?” Evelyn stared at me, startled. I was always quiet, introverted, and soft-spoken. This was the first time I had ever raised my voice at her. She glared back at me, her voice cold. “This is a life-or-death situation. Stop throwing tantrums.” She slammed the door shut. I dragged myself out of the backseat, opened the front passenger door, and helped Greg out, desperately waving down a taxi on the side of the road. But the moment we slid into the backseat of the cab, before I could even catch my breath, Greg’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and entirely sober. “You saw it yourself, Gavin. Are you ready to back off now?” I whipped my head around. The drunken haze was completely gone from his eyes. Under the passing streetlights, his expression was cool and calculating. “You were faking it?” I whispered. Greg sighed, looking at me. “Yeah.” “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” He shook his head, looking at me as if I were a child. “Gavin, don’t be naive. I know exactly what I’m doing.” “Evelyn is young, successful, gorgeous, and incredibly loyal. Who wouldn’t want her?” “The fact that you’ve been with her for eight years and still haven’t walked down the aisle only proves one thing: she doesn’t love you.” The driver pulled over. “We’re here, guys.” I opened the door, but my knees buckled, and I nearly collapsed onto the pavement. I stared at Greg’s smug, self-satisfied face. “You’re wrong, Greg.” “She isn’t loyal.” “If she could throw away eight years with me for you, she’ll throw you away the moment someone else comes along.” Greg smirked, a cruel, mocking laugh escaping him. “You really are an idiot, Gavin. She’s pregnant. She’s not going anywhere.” The words hit me like a physical blow. Rage surged through my veins, hot and blinding. The mere thought of having touched him made my stomach churn with disgust. My hand moved faster than my brain, delivering a stinging slap across Greg’s face. “You disgusting bastard!” But a second later, the screech of tires echoed behind us. Evelyn’s car pulled up to the curb. She sprinted out, throwing herself between us, pushing me away as she checked Greg’s swollen cheek with sheer panic. When she looked up at me, her eyes burned with a viciousness I recognized instantly. It wasn’t the look of a girlfriend of eight years; it was the ruthless gaze she reserved for her worst corporate rivals. She pointed directly at the security camera above the hospital entrance. “Apologize! Right now, or I’m calling the cops. You know I can have you locked up for a few days.” I let out a hollow laugh. “Go ahead. Lock me up. Maybe I can finally get some peace.” Evelyn sneered. “And what about your mother?” “Lest you forget, I’m the one paying for her care facility. If she finds out her son is in a jail cell…” My heart stopped. I stared at her, seeing only cold, calculating leverage in her eyes. A suffocating wave of humiliation washed over me. I bit my tongue so hard the taste of copper filled my mouth, fighting back the sob rising in my throat. My knuckles turned white as I clenched my fists. “I’m sorry.” “Slap yourself ten times,” Evelyn ordered coldly. I stared at her, unable to believe what I was hearing. She looked back at me, detached. “An eye for an eye, Gavin. It’s only fair.” I raised my hand. When the first blow struck my cheek, my numb heart shuddered. Watching the two of them standing side by side, I finally accepted the truth: I was out. By the tenth slap, my face was entirely numb, the pain dull and familiar. A vast, empty despair swallowed me whole, leaving me like a broken boat adrift in a dark ocean. “Are we done?” my voice was barely a whisper. Evelyn nodded once. I turned and walked toward the hospital entrance, tears spilling down my face. I tried to wipe them away, telling myself over and over. Don’t cry. Don’t let them see you like this. But a darker voice answered back. You’re already a joke, Gavin. You’ve been one all along. Yes, a pathetic joke, betrayed by the two people I trusted most in the world. But was I really going to just let them walk away into the sunset? Was I going to let them step on me forever? Was I going to let Evelyn hold my mother over my head like a leash? I pulled out my phone and dialed Evelyn’s chief competitor. Monica’s playful, amused voice came through the line. “Well, well, Mr. Gavin. To what do I owe the pleasure? Finally looking for a new girlfriend?” I took a ragged breath. “Do you want Evelyn’s upcoming product designs for next quarter? I’m the lead designer, and I haven’t signed the release forms yet. If you want them, they’re yours.” The playful tone vanished instantly. “What do you want in exchange?” “Get me and my mother out of this city,” I whispered. “And destroy Evelyn’s company.” “Consider it done, Gavin.” As the doctor stitched up my head, two nurses whispered nearby. “The couple in the ER earlier was so sweet. The girl looked so stunned when she found out she was pregnant, she couldn’t even speak.” “Right? They looked so perfect together.” I closed my eyes, a bitter smile playing on my lips. Perfect. A pair of matching snakes. The doctor looked at my chart, his brow furrowing. “Mr. Gavin, your head injury is quite severe. You need absolute rest.” The next day, I went to the care facility to pack my mother’s things. As she massaged my temples, her eyes filled with worry. “You look so tired, sweetheart. Don’t push yourself so hard. If the designs aren’t finished, they aren’t finished. Your boss is your girlfriend, isn’t she? Surely she won’t fire you.” A sharp pain stabbed my chest. I threw my arms around her and sobbed. Startled, she gently patted my back. “I’m fine, Mom,” I choked out. “Just stressed.” “Once I’m feeling a bit better, let’s take a trip to Lake Tahoe,” she smiled, squeezing my hand. But when I returned from buying lunch that afternoon, the head nurse ran toward me, her face pale. “Mr. Gavin! Thank god you’re back. Your mother… she fell from the balcony!” The food containers crashed to the floor. I ran toward the ICU, my legs giving out before I could reach the doors. I could still feel the warmth of her hands on my forehead, but when I opened my eyes, there was only the cold, sterile steel door of the operating room. My stomach churned violently. I fell to my knees, praying to whatever god was listening, begging to trade my own life for hers. Four hours later, the doors slid open. The surgeon pulled off his mask and slowly shook his head. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Gavin. We did everything we could.” A wave of nausea hit me, and I threw up right there on the linoleum floor, unable to stop. The world spun on its axis. I grabbed the doctor’s collar, trying to scream, but no sound came out. I went back to her empty room. The breeze blew through the open window, the bed still holding a faint trace of her warmth. I picked up her phone. The very last call on her log was to Greg. What did he say to her? Why did she jump? Grief curdled into an icy, blinding rage. I didn’t care about the consequences anymore. I wanted to look into Greg’s eyes and force the truth out of him. I stormed into Greg’s office building. The receptionist smirked when I asked for him. “You’ll have to wait. Mr. Greg’s fiancée is visiting him. They’re… busy.” Muffled, intimate sounds drifted from the executive office, like needles pressing into my skull. Let it go? Play nice? How long had I played nice? I grabbed a heavy fire extinguisher from the wall and slammed it into the glass door. “Greg! Get your ass out here! Can’t you two wait until you’re off the clock to be disgusting?” The glass shattered. Inside, Greg and Evelyn were scrambling to button their clothes, their faces red with panic. Evelyn marched toward me, her eyes blazing. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I swung my hand, landing a fierce slap across her face. “What is wrong with me? Evelyn, look in the mirror.” I lunged forward, grabbing Greg by his tie, dragging him over his desk. “What did you say to my mother? Why did she jump? Tell me!” Greg avoided my eyes, shouting, “I don’t know what you’re talking about! Security! Get him out of here!” The office staff gathered outside the door, whispering. “Is the manager getting dragged by his mistress’s boyfriend?” “Who knows? He always acted so high and mighty…” Greg looked at Evelyn, pleading. Evelyn stepped in and slapped me hard across the face. “Calm down!” Greg began to squeeze out fake tears. “Gavin! I always treated you like a brother! Why are you doing this now that my fiancée is pregnant? Can’t you just let us be happy?” The whispers outside shifted instantly. “Oh, I get it! He’s trying to steal his best friend’s woman!” “So pathetic. Evelyn comes here every day. Who does this guy think he is?” I stared at Evelyn. “Tell them, Evelyn. Who is the homewrecker here?” Evelyn bit her lip. Finally, she looked away. “I’m pregnant with Greg’s child.” Someone threw a crumpled piece of trash at me from the hallway. “Get out of here, you creep! She doesn’t want you!” “Where the hell is security?” Three security guards broke through the crowd, slamming me onto the floor and pinning my arms behind my back. One of the guards spat, “I hate homewreckers. Let’s strip this trash and show everyone what he really is!” Hands grabbed at my clothes, ripping the buttons from my collar. Cold, greasy fingers pawed at my skin, making me want to vomit. Through the gap in the crowd, my eyes met Greg’s. He was smiling, a look of pure, triumphant malice on his face. “He’s actually in great shape,” someone mocked. “Look at those abs.” “Let me get a turn.” Just as despair threatened to swallow me whole, a sharp voice cut through the chaos. “Police! Back off!” In the precinct, Greg was sobbing dramatically. “He assaulted us! He needs to be locked up!” The officer turned to Evelyn. “Ms. Evelyn, this seems like a domestic dispute. Do you really want to…” Greg clutched Evelyn’s hand, resting his palm on her stomach. “Evelyn, are you and the baby okay?” Evelyn looked at me, a momentary flicker of guilt in her eyes, but she quickly masked it. “We broke up. He has no right to be here.” I looked back at her, but there were no tears left in me. Too much had happened. I felt like a dying tree, its leaves falling one by one until only a hollow trunk remained. A dry, metallic taste filled my mouth. Just then, a sharp, confident voice echoed from the lobby. “Oh, please, Evelyn. Have some shame, will you?” “You say you broke up, but you were calling him your husband just two days ago.” “Karma is a bitch, darling. If you don’t believe me, open your phone and check your company’s stock. It’s looking a little red today.” Evelyn froze, her eyes widening as she spun around. But my gaze was already fixed on the door.

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1 “Raymond, you want to go independent? Fine. Sign over your shares.” My father threw the documents onto the mahogany table. I glanced at my watch. Ten minutes. From the moment I proposed my departure to the moment he signed the agreement, it had taken exactly ten minutes. Last week, when my younger brother Tyler mentioned wanting to start his own project, our father had pulled him into the study and held his hand for three hours. He had promised him a luxury penthouse downtown, three hundred thousand dollars in seed money, and full access to the family’s extensive business network. I had been running this family’s distribution business for four years. Tyler had spent the last two years loafing around. I managed every client relationship and handled the logistics, but Tyler’s sweet talk was simply more pleasing to our father’s ears. I picked up the share transfer agreement. My father’s signature sat under a single, cold word: Approved. Before packing my bags, I notified our key clients that I was stepping down. Every single one of them made it clear they wanted to follow me to my new venture. Since Tyler was apparently the talented one, I figured he would have no trouble winning them back. “Raymond, why are you just sitting there?” Tyler walked into the side lounge of the estate, holding a cup of tea. It was three in the afternoon. I had just hung up a call with a major supplier, finalizing a new partnership that would net me eighty thousand dollars in annual dividends, not including equity. “Just resting,” I said, putting my phone face down on the table. Tyler leaned against the back of a carved wooden chair, idling with his expensive watch. His tailored shirt was fresh, and his emerald cufflinks caught the light. “I wanted to tell you something, Raymond.” “Go ahead.” “Dad handed the Westside expansion project to me.” His voice carried a smug, poorly concealed excitement. “Starting Monday, I’ll be running the family’s premium spirits distribution.” I nodded. “Congratulations.” “You aren’t angry?” Tyler tilted his head. “I’ve only been back for two years, and you’ve been slaving away for four. Dad just handed the most lucrative line to me. You really aren’t pissed?” I looked at his immaculate suit and deep red tie. Every morning and evening, he was there to serve our father drinks, playing the doting son without fail. “Success goes to those with the talent for it,” I said flatly. “Why would I be angry?” Tyler laughed, shaking his head. “You really are a bore, Raymond.” “I suppose.” I stood up and placed my cup back on the silver tray. “Tyler, did you resolve that accounting discrepancy from Wednesday?” “What discrepancy?” “The outstanding invoice from Brooks. I left the files on your desk.” Tyler frowned. “Isn’t that your job?” “I reconciled the inventory. You are responsible for client relations and collections. I gave you the collection notice days ago.” “The invoice says net thirty,” Tyler rolled his eyes. “But Brooks is having cash flow issues. He wants to renegotiate terms.” “Then renegotiate it.” “Renegotiating requires Dad’s approval, and you’re the one who spends all your time playing chess with him.” Tyler groaned. “Why do you have to dump everything on me?” I stared at him, offering no reply. “Whatever. I run the business now. I’ll just handle it myself.” He waved me off and strolled out of the room, his loafers clicking sharply against the hardwood floor. I watched him walk away. A minor issue, he called it. If that invoice wasn’t cleared by next week, the suppliers would halt our shipments. But I had no intention of warning him. By then, I wouldn’t be here anyway. I returned to my room and began organizing my personal client directory. Four years. I had sustained this family for four years, starting as a fresh graduate and building three separate distribution lines from scratch: premium spirits, building materials, and logistics. Every single client was one I had won myself. The estate’s massive monthly expenses were funded entirely by these operations. And sixty percent of that revenue came from the spirits trade. 2 Our three largest partners, Vanguard Distillers, Apex Wine and Spirits, and Merit Hospitality, only dealt with me. Their directors didn’t care about the family name; they cared about my signature. Did my father know this? Yes. But he didn’t care. I wasn’t affectionate enough for his taste. During my first year back at the estate, we hosted the annual shareholder dinner. My father wanted the younger generation to make toasts to the board. Tyler went around the room making jokes, charming the investors, and making everyone laugh. My father beamed with pride. I sat in the corner, silent. During my second year, at Thanksgiving dinner, Tyler sat right next to Dad, serving him wine and chatting about art and antiques. I sat at the furthest table, finishing my meal quickly before slipping away to the quiet of the backyard. During my third year, at the annual business review, Tyler presented a fifty page slideshow filled with colorful charts and empty corporate buzzwords. My presentation lasted ten minutes, focusing entirely on pure profit and loss data. My father called Tyler a visionary leader and gave him a massive holiday bonus. I received a brief nod. And now, in my fourth year, Tyler threatened to move out, and Dad begged him to stay with gifts of prime real estate and cash. I asked to go independent, and it was approved in ten minutes. I opened my safe and packed the journals containing four years of transaction histories and client profiles. There were over two hundred files, detailed with delivery routes, contract copies, and personal preferences. Without these records, any newcomer would need six months just to understand the trade. With them? It would still take at least three months, because so many of our agreements were based on handshakes and personal trust that only I possessed. I packed them into my personal trunk. These records belonged to me; I had compiled them privately. The family had never requested them, nor did they care to. At five thirty in the afternoon, I prepared to leave the estate. The next morning, I returned to collect my final belongings. The butler stopped me in the hallway. “Master Raymond, your father wants to see you in the study.” I walked in to find my father reviewing a ledger. He did not look up immediately. “Sit,” he said. I sat. He flipped a page, then finally raised his eyes. “Raymond. Why are you doing this?” “I want to build something of my own.” My father leaned back in his leather chair. “Tell me the truth.” “Dad, I have run this family’s trade for four years. What have you given me besides basic living expenses?” “So you think you’ve been mistreated?” “Not mistreated. Just undervalued. When Tyler threatened to leave last week, you begged him to stay and gave him a penthouse. What did I get?” My father was silent for a moment. “Raymond, I know your contributions. But you are too cold, too detached.” I said nothing. “Look at Tyler,” my father sighed. “He brings life to every family gathering. He knows how to connect with the board members and our associates.” “You mean he knows how to flatter them.” “He knows how to build relationships.” “Then let me ask you,” I said, leaning forward. “Gavin at Vanguard, Fletcher at Apex, Harrison at Merit, do you know them well?” My father blinked. “Of course. They are old family associates.” “Then do you know who has been handling every single one of their accounts, resolving their shipping delays, and securing their contracts for the past three years?” My father opened his mouth, but no words came out. I stood up. “I won’t keep you, Dad.” “Wait!” “I’ve left what is required of me. Don’t worry.” I turned and walked out. 3 “Where do you think you’re going?” my father’s voice echoed behind me. I didn’t look back. “You don’t need to know.” For the next three days, I wrapped up my personal affairs. Tyler officially took over the management office. On his first day, he posted a message in the family group chat: To all board members and family, starting today, I am managing the spirits division. If you need anything, come directly to me. No need to go through Raymond anymore. The replies were filled with congratulations and praise for my father’s brilliant leadership. I did not reply. That afternoon, Tyler called my private line. “Raymond, where are the shipping orders for Vanguard’s next delivery?” “Arriving next Wednesday,” I replied. “And where are the manifests?” “What manifests?” “The intake orders and contracts. I need to reconcile the accounts with Gavin.” I stared out the window. “If you want to reconcile, ask him yourself.” Tyler’s tone sharpened. “What kind of attitude is that?” “It’s not an attitude, Tyler. It’s the rules. When I managed the books, everything was kept under my personal supervision. Now that you’ve taken over, it’s your job to organize it.” Tyler scoffed. “Are you intentionally making this difficult for me?” “No.” “Then give me the contracts.” “There are no contracts.” “What do you mean, no contracts?” “I’ve handled this shipment for three months. No one has ever asked me for written contracts.” Tyler glared through the line. “You still bear our family name, Raymond. You are obligated to hand over the files.” “I’ve handed over what belongs to the company.” Tyler hung up, and five minutes later, the butler arrived. “Master Raymond, your father wants you in the study.” I walked in, and my father’s face was dark. “Raymond, Tyler says you aren’t cooperating.” “Dad, I’ve surrendered everything that belongs to the office.” “What about the manifests and supplier agreements?” “They don’t exist in writing.” My father slammed his hand on the desk. “You managed a shipment for three months without written contracts?” “Our family has never had a policy requiring them.” He fell silent. It was true. Our business relied almost entirely on verbal handshakes and personal trust. I kept all those details in my head and handled the friction myself. Now that I was leaving, they suddenly realized they had no paper trail. “I can write down what I remember before I leave,” I offered. My father’s expression softened slightly. “Do it quickly, then.” “But.” “But what?” “Those records were compiled in my private time. They are my intellectual property. They aren’t part of the family division.” My father’s eyes narrowed. “Are you bargaining with me, Raymond?” “I’m speaking logically. I ran the business, maintained the relationships, and kept the books without any extra compensation. Now that I am leaving, you expect me to hand over my personal intellectual assets for free? Does that sound fair to you?” My father’s face twisted into a scowl. “You think you’re indispensable now, don’t you?” “I am simply protecting what is mine.” “Fine,” my father sneered. “Do you think this estate will collapse without you? Get out. I don’t believe a cold, silent boy like you has any real future out there anyway.” 4 I stood up. “Then I won’t trouble you any longer.” “Get out!” my father barked. As I closed the door, my phone vibrated. It was a message from my business partner: Ray, the new office is ready for Monday. Your eighty thousand dollar dividend is locked in, equity is finalized. Also, Gavin from Vanguard wants to buy you dinner tonight. Are you free? I typed back a single word: Yes. Friday was my last day at the estate. My room was empty except for a small trunk of old clothes. “Raymond,” a voice called out. It was my cousin Sam, who had been staying at the estate for six months to learn the trade. “Are you really leaving?” “Yes.” “Who do I go to with questions about the shipping lines?” I smiled. “Ask Tyler.” Sam’s expression faltered. “Tyler doesn’t seem to know how the warehouse actually operates.” “Then he will have to learn,” I said, patting his shoulder. “There is only so much this estate can teach you, Sam. If you get the chance, you should look outside as well.” Sam nodded, his eyes misting over. “Let me buy you dinner before you go.” “No need. I have plans. Let’s keep in touch.” I took my trunk and walked out. No one came to say goodbye. Tyler was hiding in his newly decorated accounting office, pretending not to see me. My father’s study door remained firmly shut. Four years of my life, summarized in a ten minute approval. As the heavy iron gates of the estate swung shut behind me, I took one last look at the plaque on the stone pillar: The Prescott Estate. Goodbye. At seven in the evening, I sat in the private dining room of Vanguard Distillers. Gavin sat across from me. “Ray, is it true? You’ve cut ties with the family estate?” “Yes.” Gavin sighed. “A shame. Who is going to oversee our shipments now?” “They’ll assign someone. Probably Tyler.” Gavin scoffed. “That boy? He can talk a big game over cocktails, but when it comes to actual logistics…” He shook his head. “To be frank, Vanguard only partnered with your family because of you. Now that you are gone, I’m going to have to reconsider our contract.” “That is entirely your decision, Gavin.” “Have you started your own firm?” “Yes. A boutique trade agency.” Gavin’s eyes lit up. “Excellent. I’ve been looking for a reliable partner for a new import line.” “Let’s discuss it once my office is settled,” I smiled. “And another thing,” Gavin leaned in. “Fletcher from Apex and Harrison from Merit have been asking where you went. Should I pass along your new contact details?” I took a sip of my drink. “Please do.” Monday morning. My new office was located on the thirty-eighth floor of the glass tower in the heart of the Financial District. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the entire city lay spread out before me. My office door bore a simple brass plaque: Raymond Prescott. Associate partners introduced me to new clients. Everyone called me “Mr. Prescott” with genuine respect. At ten in the morning, my private phone rang. It was an unknown number. “Hello?” “R-Raymond?” It was Tyler. His voice was trembling. “What is it, Tyler?” “The warehouse… we have a major problem.”

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