Category: English

My best friend got married, and it took a whole year before she found out her husband had a first crush he couldn’t forget. Later, that woman caused so much chaos in her home that my friend left the marriage with nothing. She was depressed for an entire year afterward. She warned me: “Natalie, don’t marry a man like that.” So when my father pushed me into an arranged marriage, I investigated Ethan thoroughly. He came from a good family, had no lingering first crush, no childhood sweetheart, and had even cut ties cleanly with all his exes. The only unusual thing was that the Carter family had adopted a girl ten years ago and had been raising her abroad for school. My father didn’t think much of it. “She’s just Ethan’s adoptive sister. The Carter family raised her, and when she became an adult, they set up a trust fund for her. It’s enough to keep her comfortable abroad for the rest of her life.” I closed the folder and decided to marry Ethan. But in the third year of our marriage, on the very first night Ethan brought his adoptive sister back from abroad—we were about to have sex. The girl carefully pushed open our bedroom door. “It’s too quiet in my room. I’m scared being alone…” Ethan got up helplessly and told me in a gentle voice to go to sleep first. I sat alone in the darkness for a long time— Then I immediately called over a dozen male models to throw a party at the house.

Ethan was drawn out of the room by the music and laughter. “Get out!” His words were calm, but they made everyone’s spine go cold. The handsome guys fled in panic, leaving only the two of us in the living room. “What’s the meaning of this?” Ethan frowned at me. Behind him, Raven was still wearing that ultra-short white lace nightgown, her long hair flowing over her shoulders, looking pitiful. I sat comfortably on the sofa, legs crossed, holding a glass of wine. “Didn’t your sister say she was scared being alone? I brought more people to keep her company in bed.” Raven’s face turned pale. “What do you take me for!” I smiled brilliantly, enunciating each word: “A shameless homewrecker who seduces her own brother.” Ethan’s expression turned cold instantly. “Natalie.” Raven’s eyes reddened, trembling with anger. “What right do you have to say that about me! Everyone knows you used to be a player! A slut! If it weren’t for the marriage arrangement between our families, my brother would never have married a woman like you!” “Raven, shut up!” Raven froze, tears falling as she looked hurt. “You’re yelling at me? You’re yelling at me for that woman? Didn’t you hear how she insulted me? Fine, I’ll leave. I’ll leave!” The young girl ran toward the door in distress, her pathetically short nightgown looking like it might fall off at any moment. Ethan frowned, swept her up in his arms, and carried her back to her room before walking over to me. “Go to bed.” I didn’t move, just looked at him with a cold laugh. Ethan sighed helplessly. “I’m really tired and exhausted. Can you please not make a scene?” “Did you hear what your sister said?” “Raven is still young and spoke without thinking. I apologize on her behalf.” I pulled my lips into a smile. “She wasn’t wrong. Yes, our families are well-matched, it’s a business marriage, and the arrangement was made early on. But I, Natalie, am a player. I’ve never lacked men around me, especially good-looking men.” Ethan’s expression grew colder inch by inch. He forcefully pressed me down on the sofa and kissed me like a punishment, his voice low and husky. “Natalie, do I need to remind you that you’re married to me now?” I laughed, but my eyes reddened, and even my voice trembled involuntarily. “But don’t you forget! Who dragged me out of bars again and again! Who shamelessly claimed to be my fiancé! Who desperately insisted on marrying me!” Ethan pulled me into his arms. “It was me. I had to have you and no one else.” I pushed him away coldly and slammed the door shut with a bang. “Ethan, it’s either me or her. Make her leave tomorrow!” The next morning. Raven was wearing Ethan’s shirt, cheerfully greeting me at the dining table. “Hi, good morning!” I froze instantly.

In our three years of marriage, Ethan had never set foot in the kitchen. But there he was, wearing an apron, making soup. “Come try it! My brother’s chicken soup is delicious. Whenever I’m feeling down, one sip of his soup makes me feel better instantly!” Yesterday she called me a slut, and now she was beaming at me, showing off how attentive Ethan was to her. And Ethan acted like nothing had happened. “You’re up? Come sit.” I took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the anger and pain surging in my chest, and immediately called my new assistant. “Prepare breakfast for me and have it on my desk by nine sharp.” I turned and left without hesitation. Behind me, I heard Raven complaining. “I was trying to make peace with her, and this is how she acts! Fine, don’t eat it. You made it for me anyway.” On the way to the office, I contacted my brother. “I want a divorce.” “Are you joking?” I gripped my purse tightly. “I’m not joking.” My brother asked in disbelief, “Did Ethan… agree? He went through so much trouble to marry you…” I interrupted impatiently. “His opinion doesn’t matter. I’m the one who wants to divorce him.” “Alright. One month. I’ll have everything prepared for you.” I tossed my phone aside. On this humiliating morning, I made my decision. I’d let Ethan have his manipulative little sister. After the morning meeting, Ethan sent a large bouquet of my favorite yellow roses. I glanced at them and tossed them to my new assistant. “Here, they’re yours.” I pulled out a card and tucked it into my assistant’s shirt pocket. “The breakfast suited my taste perfectly. Consider this a bonus.” The assistant smiled and accepted it without hesitation. “Thank you, boss.” Ethan watched him leave calmly, then pressed me against the desk. “You know how to make me angry, so you’re deliberately getting revenge?” I laughed coldly. “If I wanted revenge, I wouldn’t have given him a card just now. I would’ve given him the key to my private villa.” Ethan looked helpless. “I canceled all my meetings today to come see you. Are you still angry?” He pulled me into his arms. “Natalie, what exactly are you angry about?” I almost laughed out loud. I’d been furious all night, and he had no idea what I was angry about? I showed him my phone. It was a friend request from Raven. Her profile picture had just been changed this morning. In the photo, she was still wearing Ethan’s shirt from this morning, making a cute face while surrounded by a sea of yellow roses. “The breakfast you made was for her, not specifically for me. We’ve been married for three years, and you’ve never cooked before.” “The flowers—you sent me a bouquet, so she pestered you for an entire field of them. Am I wrong?” Ethan was silent for a moment before saying, “If it’s because of these things, I can cook specifically for you tonight. I can send you…” I angrily cut him off. “Enough! Ethan! Don’t you understand? Raven has crossed the line! And you—you’ve enabled her crossing the line, enabled her to cause havoc between us!” Ethan looked incredulous. “Natalie, what are you talking about? Raven is just my sister.” I laughed coldly. “I’m also my brother’s sister. But I don’t walk around my brother and sister-in-law’s house in such a short nightgown. I don’t need my brother to coax me to sleep when I’m in my twenties. And I certainly don’t leave bite marks on my brother’s collarbone.” Ethan froze, instinctively touching his collarbone. “Last night, did you think I didn’t see?” Ethan explained with a mixture of exasperation and amusement. “She’s been like that since she was little. She loves to bite people.” I waved my hand to cut him off. “Enough. I don’t want to hear about your past. Don’t forget—she’s not your biological sister.” Ethan fell silent. “She’s not. But please don’t think of us in such a disgusting way.” I laughed in fury and pushed him away. “Get out. Now.” But Ethan’s lips curved upward. He leaned in close, eyes smiling. “Natalie, it’s been so many years. It’s rare to see you jealous over me.” “I’ll remind her to watch her behavior.” “Don’t be angry anymore, okay?” He knew best how to soothe my temper. But just as I was about to say something, Ethan’s phone rang. The caller ID read “Raven.”

Ethan answered the phone and gave a few casual responses. After hanging up, he took my hand. “I’ll contact Mom and Dad and have her move back home.” His warm lips brushed against my ear. “Come home early tonight. What do you want to eat? This time I’ll cook specifically for you.” I suddenly remembered the past. He’d dragged me out of bars with red-rimmed eyes. Looking at me helplessly and humbly. “Natalie, what do I have to do for you to notice me?” My throat tightened. “Fine, Ethan. I’ll trust you one more time.” “If you lie to me…” “I’ll never forgive you again for the rest of my life.” Ethan smiled and gently kissed my tear-moistened eyes. “Natalie, I’ve never lied to you in this lifetime.” When I got home that evening, Ethan wasn’t back yet. Raven sat coldly on the sofa like a ghost filled with resentment. “Why didn’t you accept my friend request?” I glanced at her coolly. “Is there any need to?” “What did you say to my brother?” She blocked my path. “Why does he want me to move out!” I had no intention of dealing with her. But suddenly she went crazy and grabbed a vase to throw at me. The heavy glass bottle hit my temple. The pain made my ears ring, and the rose thorns scraped bloody lines across my cheek and arms. Just then, the door opened. Raven picked up a shard of glass and held it against her own wrist, crying hysterically at me in grief and anger. “I just wanted to apologize to you, but why did you treat me like this! Will you only be satisfied when I’m dead!” Ethan’s eyes flashed with alarm as he rushed over in shock. “Raven!” “Ethan…” She shook her head in pain. “I know. I’ve always been the extra one in this family. I won’t interfere with your happiness anymore, I won’t…” Blood splattered. Ethan’s face turned pale instantly. He’d never been this panicked. “Don’t talk nonsense! I’ll take you to the hospital.” He picked Raven up and didn’t look at me once from beginning to end. I slumped against the wall and slid to the floor. It felt like my heart had been cut with a knife too.

Late at night, Ethan came home exhausted. He was carrying his suit jacket, leaning against the doorway, frowning as he watched me pack my luggage. “You’re leaving?” “What else?” My sharp tone made Ethan lower his voice. “What are you making a fuss about now? No one is blaming you.” “Oh? Is this your greatest tolerance and forbearance toward me?” I dropped my suitcase and looked at him with a cold laugh. “Ethan, what right do you people have to blame me?” Ethan restRavened his emotions, trying to reason with me. “I already said I’d have her go back home. Why did you still have to provoke her?” “What did I do? I just didn’t accept her friend request on SnapChat. I don’t have the right to control whether you want to sleep with her, but I have the right to decide my own friend list!” Ethan’s expression turned cold, and his tone carried rare anger. “Natalie! Can’t you be a little less harsh! I already told you, she’s just my sister!” “Yes, she is somewhat dependent on me. But that’s because during her teenage years, she found out she was adopted, and after that she became sensitive. She attempted suicide several times and even developed depression. I was the one who took care of her, sent her abroad to study while receiving treatment.” “She can’t handle stimulation. I’m begging you! Can you please, even just a little bit, show some understanding for her, some compassion?” I looked at this man’s emotional outburst. My heart felt desolate. In three years of marriage, he’d never lost his temper with me like this. Even during those days when I deliberately made him jealous and angry, he never said a harsh word to me. My throat felt blocked. I couldn’t say a word. I struggled to suppress my trembling. “Yes, I’m harsh, I’m vicious. Ethan, then please, spend the rest of your life with your innocent, fragile, pitiful sister!” Ethan took a deep breath, as if his patience had reached its limit. His voice turned ice-cold. “You don’t need to pack. I’ll take her and leave. When you can calm down, we’ll talk.” I locked myself in the room. I heard him packing his luggage, then finally the cold sound of the door closing. So when heartbreak reaches its extreme, even tears won’t flow. Ethan and I separated. I didn’t know where he went, nor did I care. But his cousin once sent me several screenshots of Raven’s social media posts. “Whose 24-year-old still gets forbidden from going to bars by her brother? Well, I’m going anyway.” Attached were her chat records with Ethan. “Today’s house-husband brother, another day of being hand-fed by my brother.” The selfie showed Ethan chasing after her to feed her, looking indulgent. “Tested it for you all—men’s shirts are really comfortable to wear. So cozy.” She was curled up on the sofa taking a selfie, deliberately showing Ethan working in the background. In the past, given my personality, I would have confronted them both and slapped each of them. But now, my heart was oddly calm. I just found it laughable. When I received my brother’s text updating me on the divorce proceedings, my assistant had just brought me a cup of coffee. I had to admit, Mitch was a very competent assistant. In just half a month on the job, he knew all my likes and dislikes, even anticipating what I wanted to do. He sat on the edge of my desk, smiling charmingly. “When there’s something to celebrate, you should drink.” I raised an eyebrow and hooked his tie. Mitch’s eyes darkened slightly. “But I don’t feel like drinking today.” I took him to my private villa.

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Before I married my childhood friend Ethan, I had been married once before. My ex-husband Victor was my first love. Three years into our marriage, I came home early from a business trip. When I opened the door, I caught him kissing another woman right there in our living room. It was my father’s illegitimate daughter. The shock caused me to miscarry. Ethan was the one who took me to the hospital for the procedure and personally handled my divorce case. The day I got my divorce papers, Ethan gave me a solemn confession. He said: “Leah, I’ve had a crush on you for years. I would never do this to you.” The year after my divorce, I married him. This year marks our third anniversary. On this business trip, I managed to wrap things up with the client ahead of schedule and came home early, planning to surprise him. However, when I opened the door, I found him having sex with my father’s illegitimate daughter on the couch. The moment Ethan saw me, he frowned and moved to shield her behind him. His muscular upper body was covered in red marks. “Leah, don’t blame her. I started it.” Looking at him, I suddenly remembered when Ethan sat with me in the hospital corridor that day. I was trembling from crying so hard. He draped his jacket over my shoulders and said: “I’ll always be on your side. I’ll always love you.” Always. Turns out his “always” was the same as Victor’s.

Standing in the doorway, I suddenly found this scene laughable. The same door, the same woman, the same bed. Only the man standing by the bed had changed, while the woman standing at the door was still me. Leah, you really know how to pick them. I let out a mocking laugh and said coldly: “Move.” He didn’t budge. In fact, he defensively took half a step forward. “Leah…” “I said move.” My voice was calm. “I’m not going to hit her.” Ethan hesitated for two seconds. Perhaps my crazed reaction when I caught Victor cheating four years ago had left him traumatized, because he didn’t quite trust me. Even as he stepped aside, his entire body still leaned protectively toward that woman. I took two steps closer. My father’s illegitimate daughter, Claire, was huddled at the head of the bed with the blanket pulled up to her chin, revealing a face I knew so well it made me sick. She looked exactly as she had four years ago, even her panicked expression hadn’t changed. Her eyes were red as she looked at me pitifully, her lips moving as if she wanted to say something. I didn’t give her the chance: “Your mother stole my father, and you slept with my husband. Is scavenging trash the only trick you two know?” Tears immediately spilled down her cheeks. Ethan stepped between us, bent down to pick up some clothes, handed them to Claire, and patted her gently: “Get dressed first, don’t catch a cold.” Then he ushered her out the door: “Go home first. Don’t be scared, I’m here. I’ll come find you once I’m done here.” He even leaned down and kissed Claire on the forehead. Only after all this did Ethan turn back to me, frowning with irritation: “Leah, you’re being too aggressive. Claire is younger than you. Your words are too harsh.” He’d been so busy protecting Claire that he hadn’t even had time to put on his shirt. As he bent down to pour water, the tattoo on his waist stretched taut— “Leah” When he confessed to me back then, he said he’d gotten it tattooed a long time ago but hadn’t had a chance to tell me before I got together with Victor. So he hid his feelings, just wanting to stay by my side forever. But this “forever” turned out to be short-lived after all. Ethan added two lemon slices to the water, stirred it, and brought it over to me. His tone was calm, as if nothing had happened: “I noticed you’ve been nauseous lately, so I did some research. It said drinking lemon water might help.” That was before my business trip. I’d been unable to eat for several days, constantly nauseous, but I was too busy with the company’s merger case to spare the time. Ethan had been busy too during that period, saying the law firm had taken on a major case. He left earlier than me every day and came home later. I’d thought he was too busy to notice, but I never expected he’d still seen it. “Have you been to the hospital? I happen to have time today. Let me take you to get it checked out.” The lemon water in my hand was the perfect temperature, yet it sent a bitter chill from the deepest part of my heart, making my voice tremble: “When did it start?”

Ethan’s voice was flat, as if discussing something trivial: “Last year when you kicked Claire and her mother off the board. She came to me desperate, with nowhere else to turn. You know, your sister looks quite a bit like you, and she’s younger. I just couldn’t resist.” I snapped my head up to look at him. My father had built his business using connections from my mother’s family. After my grandfather died, my father confessed to my mother that he had another woman on the side, and she’d even given him a daughter. He was a father, he said, and couldn’t bear to leave his child out in the cold. He made it sound so noble, but it landed my mother in the hospital. Yet my father acted like nothing happened, actually bringing Claire and her mother home. Before he died, he even left them shares in the company. It took me years to finally drive those two out, and I never imagined that my childhood friend and husband would get involved with that illegitimate daughter at that very moment. Ethan looked down at me: “Leah, you can’t blame me for this.” “You know I love you. I love you enough to accompany you to abort someone else’s child, to confess to you on the day of your divorce. But Leah, I’m a man. Ever since we got married, every time we were intimate, I’d think about how you once carried someone else’s child. Every anniversary, I’d remember that you were previously married to someone else.” “Leah, that’s not fair.” He delivered his verdict: “You were married to Victor for three years, so I’ll sleep with Claire for three years. That’s fair. After two more years, I’ll send her away. The position of Mrs. Johnson is reserved for you alone.” I could hardly believe such absurd words were coming out of Ethan’s mouth. I hurled the glass in my hand at him. Ethan didn’t move. The warm water splashed on him, and he just smiled helplessly: “I understand how you feel right now, but Leah, this is fair.” “Have you no shame, Ethan! You were the one who insisted on marrying me!” Before Ethan could respond, his phone rang with a special ringtone. He glanced at it and answered immediately. I don’t know what the person on the other end said, but he casually grabbed a shirt and started buttoning it as he walked toward the door. As he was about to leave, he hung up the phone and looked back at me: “Leah, have you no shame? You got involved with Victor when you were eighteen, got pregnant and had an abortion at eighteen. If you had any shame, you wouldn’t have slept with Victor at eighteen.” I swayed, nearly unable to stand. Ethan’s voice was ice cold: “Claire is pregnant. I’m going to check on her.” “Someone like you who’s been pregnant twice should know that emotions are most unstable in early pregnancy. Try to be understanding.” After Ethan finished speaking, he opened the door and slammed it shut with a loud bang. The room was a complete mess. My stomach churned violently, but nothing would come up. I crumpled the pregnancy test report from my coat pocket and threw it in the trash. While away on business, I’d felt so terrible that I had no choice but to go to the hospital. The result: I was pregnant. I’d wanted to surprise Ethan. Now it seemed this child, like the one before, had come at the wrong time. Perhaps it was the emotional turmoil, but my stomach hurt badly. I felt blood slowly trickling down my legs. I pulled out my phone and scheduled a hospital checkup, then looked around and contacted a real estate agent to list the house. This apartment was what I’d gotten in my divorce from Victor. Ethan had personally handled the case, and with Attorney Johnson on the job, Victor left the marriage with nothing. After we married, since this place was close to both my company and Ethan’s law firm, we simply moved in. Ethan assumed I couldn’t live without him. But he forgot that what Leah never lacked was the courage to start over.

I’ve always been decisive in my actions. After handling some company matters, I headed straight to the hospital. The doctor looked at the test results and frowned: “Threatened miscarriage. This embryo’s quality isn’t good.” “Let’s do the D&C procedure now. Don’t delay. By the way, where’s the father? This is such a big deal—why didn’t he come with you?” My eyes stung. Aside from the unexpected pregnancy when I was eighteen, the other two had both come when I was hoping for them. But only I had been hoping. My voice caught: “He cheated on me.” The doctor looked at me with sympathy. As the anesthesia entered my body, I felt cold all over. The doctor helped me out of the operating room and had me sit and rest. I never expected to run into Ethan here. He was clearly startled too, then immediately stepped in front of Claire: “Leah, I already told you—after two years, I’ll send her away myself. Why did you have to chase us to the hospital? You’re so aggressive, I’m really exhausted. I’ve accommodated you for over twenty years. Can’t you accommodate me just once?” What accommodation. If I had to compare, I hated Ethan even more than I hated Victor’s betrayal. Ethan’s parents were busy and entrusted him to my mother’s care. Ethan spent his entire childhood and adolescence growing up in the household. My mother treated him like her own son. He knew very well what a terrible blow Claire’s mother had dealt my mother, so much so that she’s still lying in a hospital bed. Yet he still got involved with Claire. I braced myself against the wall and slowly stood up. My body was weak, my legs trembling, but I forced myself not to show any sign of distress. “Fine, I’ll accommodate you. Let’s get divorced, Ethan.” With that, I turned to leave. Before Ethan could respond, Claire suddenly said softly: “Don’t be angry with Ethan. It’s my fault. I’m the one who insisted on keeping this baby. Yesterday when my mom found out I was pregnant, she almost beat me to death. Thankfully Ethan got there in time.” She took a step forward. Ethan reached out to stop her, but she gently shook her head, smiled at him, then continued: “I know you hate me. But I really don’t mean to compete with you for Ethan. Ethan said that you’ll be his only wife for life, and once I have the baby, he’ll let you raise it.” She touched her still-flat belly, her eyes slightly reddening, her tone impossibly sincere: “You haven’t had it easy these years either—pregnant three times but couldn’t keep any of them. From now on, you can be this child’s mother. I won’t compete with you.” “Claire…” Ethan called her name softly, guilt in his tone, but he didn’t deny what she said. I stared at their faces and suddenly laughed: “Let you raise it for me?” Claire nodded, her eyes bright: “Ethan said the position of Mrs. Johnson will always be yours.” I looked at Ethan. He gazed at me with heavy eyes, remaining silent. I felt sick to my stomach. “Ethan,” my voice was quiet, “do you think I can’t live without you?” I waved my phone at him: “I’ll have my lawyer send you the divorce papers. Happy divorce, Attorney Johnson.” Ethan’s head jerked up. The words rolled around in his mouth, but finally he said calmly: “Leah, as long as I don’t want a divorce, we will never get divorced.” I had nothing more to say. This man and woman—one a hypocrite, the other brazenly shameless. Standing before me, one performing devotion, the other performing magnanimity. Just watching them exhausted me. I turned toward the elevator. Pain from my lower abdomen came in waves. Behind me came Claire’s voice, tearful: “Please don’t be angry. I really didn’t mean it.” I didn’t look back. The elevator doors opened and I quickly stepped inside, my hand gripping the handrail, my whole body trembling. Just as the elevator doors were about to close, a hand suddenly reached in and stopped them. It was Ethan. His face looked terrible. He stared at me with complicated eyes, as if wanting to say something. His gaze moved from my face downward, pausing on my lower abdomen where my hand rested. I suddenly realized something, reached into my pocket, and sure enough—when I’d pulled out my phone earlier, I’d accidentally brought out the miscarriage report too. Without noticing, I’d dropped it on the floor, and Ethan had picked it up. He gripped that paper tightly, his knuckles white. His voice was hoarse beyond recognition: “You were pregnant and didn’t tell me?” I said nothing. He took a step forward, the hand clutching that paper trembling: “Leah, was it really an accidental miscarriage or did you want to abort it? Do you hate having my child that much?” I looked into those reddened eyes of his and suddenly found it laughable. He’d just been protecting Claire, personally saying he’d let her give birth to the child for me to raise. Now, holding my miscarriage report, he had the nerve to ask if I really didn’t want his child. “Ethan, you’ve known me for almost thirty years. I’ve always been someone who can let go. Since you’re unfaithful to our marriage, why would I keep the child?” I looked at Claire rushing over behind him and raised my chin: “Besides, Ethan, your child is already in Claire’s belly, isn’t it?” “As for me, all I can give you is divorce papers.” He staggered backward. The elevator doors slowly closed. I leaned against the elevator wall, tilted my head back to look at the lights overhead, and wiped away the tears from the corners of my eyes.

I didn’t go home. I went straight to a hotel near my company. Early the next morning when I arrived at the office, Ethan was already sitting on the couch in my office. The receptionist looked apologetic when she saw me come in: “Ms. Smith, Attorney Johnson, he…” “It’s fine. You can go.” I set down my bag, sat down, and glanced at him. He wore a dark gray suit with a document folder beside him. If he put on a lawyer’s robe, it would be his standard courtroom attire. He was treating me as the opposing party. “Leah,” he stood up, his tone calm as if nothing had happened yesterday, “I know you don’t want to see me right now, but there are some things we must discuss.” He opened the folder, pulled out a stack of documents, and pushed them in front of me. “This is your company’s current equity structure analysis. You hold 51%, of which 12% was previously held by Claire and her mother combined. The rest are scattered shares.” I glanced at it but didn’t touch it. “And so?” “So,” Ethan looked at me, “I need you to transfer the 12% you took from Claire back to her name.” I thought I’d misheard. “What did you say?” Ethan’s voice remained calm, as if stating a universally acknowledged fact: “Since you don’t want our child, then barring any accidents, Claire’s child will be my only child in this lifetime. She’s carrying my flesh and blood. In the future, that will be your child too. I need to consider the child’s future.” I stared at him, suddenly feeling like he was a complete stranger. Was this really the same Ethan who once draped his jacket over my shoulders in that hospital corridor and said, “I’ll always be on your side”? “Ethan, I spent two years and fought three lawsuits to get that 12% back from those two! And now you want me to give it back?” Ethan frowned, his pretense of patience seemingly exhausted: “Leah, legally speaking, Claire is your sister. You share blood…” “She is not my sister!” I cut him off. “Her mother slept with my father, and she slept with both my husbands. Ethan, you want me to transfer my shares to her? Do you think I’m some kind of dumping ground where any trash can be thrown?” Ethan’s patience ran out, his expression finally darkening: “Leah, I’m trying to have a civil discussion with you.” “So am I.” He fell silent for a few seconds, then pulled another document from the folder and handed it over: “Then I’ll have to take a different approach.” I took it and saw it was a draft of a lawyer’s letter. The gist was that Ethan, as my legal spouse, had the right to claim 50% of the assets I’d acquired during our marriage, including half of my company shares. “Are you insane?” “I’m not insane.” Ethan’s lips curved into a smile, his eyes glancing at me. “Leah, you know I’m one of the best lawyers in the country. I handled your divorce case and left Victor with nothing. I know exactly how to play this game.” He took a step closer to me. His tone carried a chill: “If you cooperate and transfer the shares to Claire, there won’t be any issues between us. You’ll still be Mrs. Johnson. After Claire gives birth, we’ll have you raise the child. Everything continues as before. But if you refuse—” He paused, looking at me with pity: “Then we’ll see each other in court. I’ll show you just how easy it is for a top lawyer to take your company away.” I stared into his eyes. I used to love those eyes, thinking they were filled with nothing but me. Now I finally saw clearly—they were full of calculation. “You’re threatening me?” “I’m giving you advice,” he stepped back, resuming that gentle tone. “Leah, you know I never want to hurt you.” I said nothing. He picked up the folder and walked to the door, then suddenly turned back: “By the way, regarding your mother, I’ve already contacted the hospital and moved her to a new room. You don’t need to worry about the expenses. I’m her son-in-law, your husband. I’ll arrange everything. I also have the right to arrange it.”

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On the day of my fifth wedding anniversary with Ethan Wright, I discovered he was cheating through the smart body composition scale at our house. The scale’s app showed a new guest record: weight 99 pounds, body fat percentage 18%. Meanwhile, my weight had long soared to 132 pounds, a side effect of years on fertility drugs. I held my phone, watching Ethan sitting on the couch, sending a voice message to his “good buddy,” Chelsea Miller. “Bro, I weighed myself at your place today, and I’ve lost more weight. You definitely need to treat me to a feast to fatten me up.” Chelsea’s voice leaked from the earpiece. Ethan chuckled, responding, “Alright, I’ll take you out for a nice meal tomorrow.” I calmly took a screenshot, then canceled the 30 million dollar transfer scheduled for his company the next day. Since he liked playing charity, let him swallow the bitter fruit of bankruptcy himself. “Ava Sterling, these pajamas are really comfy. You don’t mind if I borrow them for a night, do you?” Chelsea, draped in my silk pajamas, boldly leaned on Ethan’s shoulder. I’d paid twenty thousand dollars for those pajamas, custom-made in Italy. The tag hadn’t even been cut off the collar yet. Now, they hung loosely on Chelsea, the collar wide open, revealing a lot of her fair skin. Ethan sat on the sofa, a glass of red wine in his hand. He frowned and nudged Chelsea slightly to the side, but the gesture was clearly half-hearted. “Chelsea’s pipes burst at her place, nowhere to stay, so I told her to crash here for a night.” He looked up at me. His tone was a statement of fact, not a request for discussion. I stood in the entryway, still holding the medical report I’d just picked up from the hospital. “Take them off,” I said, looking at Chelsea. Chelsea paused, then dramatically covered her mouth. “Oh, Ava, you’re not actually mad, are you?” She shrank closer to Ethan. “I just treat your husband like my brother usually, so I didn’t think too much of it.” “If you mind, Ava, I’ll take them off right now.” She started to unbutton the pajamas, but her movements were incredibly slow. Ethan instantly pressed her hand down. “Ava, what the hell is wrong with you?” He stood up, looking down at me. “It’s just a piece of clothing. Chelsea’s a girl; what do you expect her to wear if she takes them off now?” I tossed my bag onto the entryway cabinet. “Anything. Just not mine.” I walked over, staring at Chelsea’s innocent face. “Those pajamas cost twenty-two thousand. Take them off now, and I’ll throw them away like trash.” “If you don’t, then transfer the money.” Chelsea’s eyes instantly welled up. She bit her lower lip, looking at Ethan for help. “Ethan, did I make Ava unhappy?” “I told you I shouldn’t have come, but you insisted.” “I’ll leave then. I’ll just sleep under a bridge.” Ethan’s face darkened completely. He pulled Chelsea behind him, shielding her. “Ava Sterling, do you have to cause such a scene over a piece of clothing?” “Chelsea’s my best friend. What’s wrong with me helping her when she’s in trouble?” “You used to be so understanding; now you’ve become so petty.” I looked at his self-righteous face and suddenly found it amusing. Five years of marriage, I’d been with him from nothing to his company going public. I’d developed endocrine disorders and my body had changed because of fertility drugs. Yet, he thought I’d become petty. “Ethan, I saw the record on the body composition scale.” My voice was calm. Ethan’s gaze flickered. But he quickly straightened his posture. “What body composition scale? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Chelsea came over this afternoon to pick up some files and weighed herself. That’s all.” “Are you even monitoring me now?” Chelsea poked her head out from behind him. “Ava, you don’t actually think there’s anything between Ethan and me, do you?” “Come on, we’re pure buddies, like he’s my male best friend.” “You’re just too insecure.” She sized me up, her gaze lingering on my waist for two seconds. It was an utterly contemptuous look. I ignored her, turning to walk towards the bedroom. “Replace this sofa tomorrow.” I stopped, without looking back. “It’s been touched by trash; I find it repulsive.” Behind me, the sound of a glass shattering echoed. “Ava Sterling, don’t push it too far!” Ethan’s voice boomed in the living room. I closed the bedroom door and locked it. I pulled out my phone and dialed Mark, my assistant. “Send me the financial assessment report for Wright Industries by 9 AM tomorrow.” “Also, cancel all supplementary cards I issued to Ethan from my accounts.” Mark’s respectful voice came from the other end. “Understood, Ms. Sterling. Should I notify Mr. Wright?” “No need.” I looked at my slightly drawn face in the mirror. “He’ll find out soon enough.”

“Ethan, was Ava really angry last night?” Chelsea sat in the passenger seat, biting her straw and sneaking glances at me in the back. Today she was wearing a loose men’s hoodie. I recognized it instantly as the limited-edition one Ethan had bought last month. Ethan steered with one hand, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. “That’s just how she is. She’ll get over it in a couple of days.” “We’re going to that trendy brunch spot. Didn’t you say you were craving smoked steak salad?” His tone was indulgent, completely ignoring me in the backseat. Today was Wright Industries’ annual gala. As Ethan’s legal wife, I was supposed to attend. But he’d insisted on picking up Chelsea first, using the excuse that it was “on the way.” “Ava, that dress looks pretty on you, but it makes your stomach look a little big.” Chelsea turned around, smiling at me. “Unlike me, I just can’t gain weight no matter how much I eat. It’s so annoying.” She purposely puffed out her flat stomach. I looked down at the financial report on my phone, not bothering to look up. “Is that so? That’s good then.” “After all, besides eating, you don’t seem to have any other talents.” Chelsea’s smile froze. She looked at Ethan, feigning hurt. “Ethan, look at Ava, how can she talk like that?” Ethan slammed on the brakes. “Ava Sterling, are you looking for a fight today?” “Chelsea was just trying to give you a compliment. Why are you being so sarcastic?” I looked up, meeting his angry gaze. “I’m merely stating facts.” “If she feels wronged, she can get out of the car.” Ethan took a deep breath, seemingly trying to suppress his rage. “Fine, I won’t argue with you.” The car restarted, and the interior fell silent. The gala was a glittering affair. As soon as I walked into the ballroom, several familiar wives surrounded me. “Mrs. Wright, I hear your company is securing a big investment recently?” “Mr. Wright is truly promising.” I responded politely, but my peripheral vision caught Ethan leading Chelsea towards the circle of core investors. Chelsea clung to Ethan’s arm, beaming brightly, almost excessively. Anyone who didn’t know better would think she was the president’s wife of Wright Industries. “Who’s that?” one of the wives asked, following my gaze. “Mr. Wright’s assistant? She looks new.” I took a sip of champagne. “Just someone who doesn’t know her place.” Halfway through the gala, it was time for the charity auction. I had mentioned a blue diamond necklace to Ethan once before, something I’d taken a liking to. As soon as the auctioneer presented the necklace, Ethan raised his paddle. “Fifty thousand.” A wave of appreciative murmurs went through the crowd. “Mr. Wright is so devoted to his wife!” “Mrs. Sterling is truly blessed.” I looked at the necklace on the stage, but my heart felt nothing. Ultimately, Ethan won the necklace for eighty thousand dollars. He walked down the stage with the gift box, heading straight for me. I was about to reach out. But he brushed past my shoulder, walking towards Chelsea, who stood behind me. “Try it on.” He handed the necklace to Chelsea, his voice soft. All eyes in the room instantly focused on that corner. The air seemed to freeze. Chelsea covered her mouth, a look of feigned surprise on her face. “Ethan, this is too precious, I can’t accept it.” “Just take it,” Ethan said, pressing the necklace into her hand. “You helped me follow up on that big project recently. This is a well-deserved reward.” Chelsea’s face flushed, and she put on the necklace in front of everyone. She then turned, purposely walking up to me. “Ava, isn’t it beautiful?” She touched the blue diamond on her neck, smiling like a victor. I looked at the necklace around her neck, which was originally meant for me. My smartwatch on my wrist suddenly vibrated. It was a message from Mark, my assistant. “Ms. Sterling, the account Mr. Wright used to pay for the auction item just now was your mother’s medical emergency fund account.” I stared at the line of text on the screen. “Why is that necklace on your neck?” I looked up at Chelsea. Chelsea froze for a moment, then her smile grew even wider. “Ava Sterling, Ethan said I helped him secure an investment, and this was his special reward for me.” “You wouldn’t try to snatch this away too, would you?”

“A thirty-million-dollar shortfall. How do you plan to cover it?” I slammed the financial report onto Ethan’s desk. Papers scattered, falling to the floor. Ethan didn’t even look up. He was focused on peeling an orange for Chelsea, who sat on the sofa. “The company’s cash flow was tight, so I temporarily diverted some money from the foundation in your name.” He placed the peeled orange on Chelsea’s plate, then pulled a tissue to wipe his hands. His tone was as flat as if discussing the weather. “That’s the life-saving money for my mother’s heart surgery next month.” I stared into his eyes, my voice like ice. That foundation was established before our marriage, specifically to deal with my mother’s potentially worsening condition at any time. Only Ethan and I knew the password. Ethan finally looked up. He irritably tugged at his tie. “Ava Sterling, can you stop always making such a fuss?” “Your mother’s surgery isn’t until next month, is it? As soon as this batch of payments comes in, I’ll put the money back immediately.” Chelsea, eating her orange, mumbled an interruption. “That’s right, Ava. Ethan’s doing this for the company’s good too.” “I worked so hard to get that project through my connections. If the funding stops, all the initial investment will be wasted.” She pulled a wet wipe to clean her mouth, then walked up to me. “Ava, you’re also part of the company. You can’t just stand by and watch Ethan’s hard work be ruined, can you?” “Besides, your mother’s illness isn’t new. A few days’ delay won’t kill her.” I looked at Chelsea’s self-important face. I raised my hand and slapped her hard. A crisp smack echoed clearly in the office. Chelsea stumbled, clutching her face, looking at me in disbelief. “You hit me?” Ethan abruptly stood up and pushed me away. “Ava Sterling, are you crazy!” He tenderly cupped Chelsea’s face, checking her for injuries. “Chelsea, are you okay?” Turning his head, he glared at me, his eyes bloodshot with fury. “How dare you hit her? Diverting the funds was my idea, what does it have to do with her?” I was pushed, hitting the edge of the office desk, a sharp pain shot through my waist. But I straightened up, coldly looking at the despicable pair. “How dare I?” I sneered. “Because she used my mother’s life-saving money to fill the hole in her shell company.” “Ethan, do you really think I don’t know what her so-called ‘big project’ is?” I pulled a document from my bag and threw it directly at Ethan’s face. “A shell company with only ten thousand dollars in registered capital, and you poured thirty million into it.” “The money went in, but it vanished without a trace.” “Are you running a business, or a charity?” Ethan’s face changed. He glanced down at the documents on the floor, his eyes showing a hint of panic. But he quickly recomposed himself. “You don’t understand business. This is called early-stage investment.” “Chelsea has wide connections; this money will double quickly.” I looked at his stubborn refusal to admit his mistake, losing even the energy to be angry. “Fine, I don’t understand.” I nodded. “But do you understand that misappropriating funds for a specific purpose is considered embezzlement?” “If I call the police, how many years do you think you’d spend behind bars?” Ethan froze. He hadn’t seemed to expect me to say such a thing. “Ava Sterling, are you threatening me?” He gritted his teeth, glaring at me. “For thirty million, you’re going to send your husband to jail?” Chelsea, hiding behind Ethan, added fuel to the fire. “Ethan, I told you Ava doesn’t love you at all; she only cares about money.” “Look at how aggressive she is now, not an ounce of a good wife in her.” I looked at Chelsea. “Shut up.” I pulled out my phone and activated the recording function. “Ava Sterling, your mother’s surgery can be delayed by half a month, she won’t die.” Ethan pointed a finger at my nose, completely dropping his pretense. “But if Chelsea’s project fails, she’ll be ruined.” “I used this money. What can you do about it?” I pressed save. Putting my phone back in my bag. “Ethan Wright, remember what you said today.” I turned and walked towards the door. “I hope you won’t be begging me on your knees later.”

“Ava Sterling, Ethan’s gaming all night with me, so he won’t be coming home.” Chelsea’s triumphant laugh came through the phone. In the background, there was deafening club music, mixed with the cheers of men and women. I sat on a cold corridor bench in the city hospital. In my hand, I clutched the diagnostic report I’d just received. Hippocampal atrophy, early-stage Alzheimer’s. Commonly known as irreversible memory loss. The doctor said I would slowly forget everyone, forget my way home, until I became a shell of a person, unable to even feed myself. “Put him on the phone.” My voice was calm, without any fluctuation. Chelsea clicked her tongue on the other end of the line. “Ava, you’re checking up on him too much.” “Ethan finally got a chance to relax; do you have to ruin the fun?” “Hey, Ethan, Ava Sterling insists on talking to you.” A rustling sound came from the other end. Followed by Ethan’s impatient voice. “What now?” “Did the house catch fire or the sky fall? Why call at this hour?” I took a deep breath, trying to make my voice sound normal. “Ethan, I’m at City Hospital.” “I got my check-up report today, the doctor said…” “Alright, alright, another check-up report.” Ethan cut me off directly. “You just want to say your endocrine system is out of whack again, and you need to buy some expensive imported medicine, don’t you?” “Ava Sterling, can’t you try a new trick?” “It’s Chelsea’s dog’s birthday today; everyone’s in high spirits. Don’t be a downer.” My knuckles, gripping the phone, turned white. “Ethan, I’m sick. Very seriously.” “That’s your problem.” Ethan’s voice was as cold as a stranger’s. “If you’re really about to die, just call 911. What’s the point of calling me? I’m not a doctor.” “Don’t call again. It’s annoying.” Beep, beep, beep. The call ended. I looked at the darkened phone screen. Suddenly, I felt a sense of release. I folded the diagnostic report neatly and put it in my bag. Stepping out of the hospital, a torrential rain poured down outside. I didn’t open my umbrella, letting the rain soak me completely. Back home, I walked straight into the study. I opened the safe and took out the divorce papers I had already prepared. On the line for the wife, I signed my name. Then, I called Mr. Davis, my lawyer. “Mr. Davis, all the materials I asked you to prepare can be submitted now.” “Yes, all of them.” “Including the ledgers detailing Wright Industries’ suspected tax evasion, and the evidence of Ethan Wright’s fund misappropriation.” After hanging up, I placed the divorce papers on the coffee table in the living room. Beside it, I placed the men’s hoodie Chelsea had left behind. Having done all this, I pulled my suitcase and walked out of the villa I had lived in for five years. The night was deep. I sat in a taxi heading to the airport, watching the neon lights outside speed past. My phone suddenly vibrated violently. It was Ethan’s assistant calling. I pressed the answer button. “Madam, where are you?” Mark’s voice sounded full of panic. “Mr. Wright drank too much at the club just now, got into a fight, and was hit in the head with a bottle. He’s currently in emergency care…” “What? Madam, what did you say?” Mark swallowed, relaying the message to Ethan. “Mr. Wright, Madam was in a serious car accident on Oceanview Road just now. Also… all your assets were frozen ten minutes ago.” Ethan’s weak and shocked voice came from the other end of the line. “What did you say?”

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I spent fifteen years working myself to the bone, handing every dollar I earned to my husband, Derek, to fund his PhD and launch his career as a professor. Then one day, I walked into his office and found his student, Sienna, halfdressed and sitting in his lap. He just looked away and said nothing when she called me “the housekeeper.” I walked out without a word. Then I enrolled in community college. One month later, at his tenure review hearing, I stood at the podium as a firstyear student giving a speech while the screen behind me scrolled through fifteen years of bank transfers and photos of him with his girlfriend. I smiled and asked the room: “A professor built on his wife’s blood and sweat who’s also sleeping with his own student does he deserve to stand in a classroom?” I pushed open the door to my husband Derek’s office. He was sitting behind his desk. With a girl in his lap. She was straddling him, clothes disheveled, cheeks flushed pink. “Professor,” she cooed, “I really don’t understand this part.” My footsteps made them both look up. Derek shoved the girl off him like he’d been electrocuted. “Lynn I mean, Sarah?” He stumbled over my name. “What are you doing here?” I didn’t answer. The girl turned to look at me. Her eyes dropped to the shopping bag in my hand the one holding the dress shirt Derek needed for his lecture tomorrow. “Oh, are you the housekeeper?” She crossed her legs and tilted her chin toward the water cooler. “Get me some water. Warm, please.” I looked at Derek. He looked away. Said nothing. I set the shopping bag by the door, walked to the water cooler, filled a cup with warm water, and placed it on the desk in front of her. She didn’t even glance at me. She turned back to Derek with a smile. “So, Professor should we keep going?” Derek finally spoke. His voice came out rough. “Sienna. That’s enough for today. I have something to take care of.” Sienna slowly gathered her things. As she passed me, she stopped and leaned in, studying my face. “Huh. You kind of look like the Professor’s relative or something.” She paused, smiled, and walked out. The door clicked shut. Derek crossed the room quickly, reaching for my hand. “Sarah, just let me explain” I stepped back. “What relative?” I asked. He froze. “No you’ve got it wrong.” The words came out fast. “Sienna’s father is on the board of trustees. I have to keep her happy. She was just here about her thesis, we were looking over her paper” “Are you coming home tonight?” I asked. “Yes, of course.” He sounded almost desperate. “I don’t have anything tonight. We can sit down and talk, really talk” “That’s okay.” I reached down and picked up the shopping bag. I opened the door. I looked back at him one last time. Fifteen years. I’d carried him from a broke college student to a PhD. He’d gotten a teaching position, made associate professor, and now he was one step away from full professor. I had washed dishes, delivered food, stocked shelves at a grocery store. During his PhD years, I worked three jobs at the same time. His tuition, his living expenses, money for textbooks and faculty dinners every single dollar had come from me. Now he was a professor at a prestigious university. And I was “some relative from back home.” My voice was very calm. “Derek. Your tenure review hearing is next month, right?” He blinked. “How do you know about that?” “You left the paperwork on your desk. I saw it.” I paused. “Good luck preparing.” I closed the door. I walked to the stairwell and stopped at the landing. I reached into my bag and pulled out my phone. The recording indicator was lit up red. 2 minutes, 47 seconds. I hit save and named the file: “office.” Then I opened my contacts and scrolled to a number I hadn’t called in years an old coworker who’d eventually opened a print shop near the university district. She picked up. “Janet? It’s me, Sarah,” I said. “Quick question can your shop make copies of bank statements? Years’ worth of them?”

I got home at four in the afternoon. The apartment was eight hundred square feet, two bedrooms. The university had assigned it to Derek when he made associate professor a faculty housing benefit. Only his name was on the title. At the time, he’d said it was simpler that way. The living room shelves were packed with his academic books. My things were crammed into a small corner of the bedroom. In fifteen years, I’d moved nine times. Always renting. Every move, I owned a little less. He used to say: “once things settle down, we’ll buy a real place and put both our names on it.” Things had settled down, all right. He’d settled into being Professor Collins. And I’d settled into being “the housekeeper.” I went to the bedroom and pulled an old suitcase out from under the bed. It was full of notebooks. Kraftpaper covers, eleven of them in total. From 2008, when he first started college, all the way to now. I opened the first one. “September 3, 2008. Transferred $6,800 for tuition. $1,000 for living expenses. Kept $300 for myself.” “October 12, 2008. Transferred $800. He said he needed reference books.” “November 7, 2008. Transferred $1,200. He said his advisor was organizing a group dinner and everyone needed to chip in.” Every transfer was followed by a note of my income that month. I closed the last notebook and picked up my phone. I opened my banking app and pulled up the full transfer history. I searched: “Derek Collins.” A long list filled the screen. I screenshotted everything. Fortyseven pages. Then I opened my laptop and went to the university website. I enrolled in the community college. It was affiliated with Derek’s university the same campus, a different program. Tuition: eight thousand dollars a year. “System notification: Please report for your placement exam next Monday.” I closed the browser and opened a new Word document. Title: “The Cost of Building a Professor: A Financial Analysis” I picked up the first notebook and started typing. “Chapter One: Direct Financial Support Itemized Record.” The sound of the keyboard filled the quiet apartment, steady and even. At nine that night, Derek came home. He looked tense when he walked in. When he saw me sitting at the computer, he frowned. “What are you doing?” “Organizing some files.” He walked up behind me and glanced at the screen. I’d already switched to a browser tab a recipe site. “Sarah.” His voice softened. “About what happened today we need to talk. Sienna is just a student. Her father is on the board of trustees. I have to manage that relationship. Earlier, we were literally just going over her paper” “I know,” I said. I saved the Word document and password protected it. “That’s your reaction?” His voice sharpened. “I just explained everything. What more do you want?” He paused, then: “Sarah, you need to understand I’m in a very visible position right now. A lot of people are watching me. I can’t afford any complications. I need you not to make things difficult.” I stood up and turned to face him. “Derek. For your tenure review does your spouse need to sign anything? Provide any kind of documentation?” He blinked. “What?” “The review process. Do they need my signature, or any supporting documents from me?” “No.” His tone shifted, a little uneasy. “Why are you asking that?” “Just curious.” I headed toward the kitchen. “Did you eat?” “Already ate.” He hesitated. “Sarah. The review next month is critical. During this period try not to come by the university to find me, okay? The other faculty wives are always comparing notes on everything.” “Understood.” I cut him off. He exhaled, visibly relieved. His voice warmed up. “Once I get the promotion, the pay bump will be significant. I’ll take you shopping get you some nice things. You deserve to treat yourself a little.” “Sure. That sounds good,” I said. He went into his study. I could hear him on the phone, voice low, with a laugh in it. “”It’s fine. Handled it. Yeah, she doesn’t know anything…”“ I washed my hands and sat back down at the computer. The document was already at ten thousand words. I created a new folder and named it “Evidence.” I moved in the bank statement screenshots. I photographed the notebooks, page by page, making sure every entry was legible. I added the recording from today. Then I opened my photo gallery. I scrolled back to last week the day I’d gone to campus to drop off a flash drive he’d left at home and pulled up the photos I’d taken from the hallway. In the photos, Derek and Sienna were walking side by side. Sienna’s hand was looped casually through his arm. Timestamp: October 18, 2023. I dragged the photos into the folder.

The community college placement exam was straightforward. As I turned in my test, the proctor looked at me for a second longer than necessary. “What do you do? You don’t look like a recent grad.” “I’ve been at home,” I said. A brief flicker of understanding crossed her face. She’d pegged me as a housewife. Three days later, the results came out. I’d passed. On enrollment day, I wore a plain tshirt and jeans, carried a canvas backpack. Most of my classmates were in their twenties and thirties working adults coming back to upgrade their credentials. No one paid me any attention. The program coordinator was a young teaching assistant. After handing out the syllabi, he said: “Even though this is an evening program, the university holds us to full academic standards. You need the required credit hours, and assignments and exams are nonnegotiable.” He raised his voice: “And don’t even think about coasting through. This department does not play around with academic standards. Fail enough courses and you’ll be out.” A few groans from the back. After class, I walked over to the main campus library. My new student ID worked for everything. I found the core accounting textbooks a thick stack and carried them to a seat in the corner. I’d barely sat down when I heard familiar laughter. Across the reading room, by the window, Derek and Sienna were sitting together. She was leaning into him, practically pressed against his arm, pointing at something in an open book. He was tilted toward her, a small smile on his face. Two cups of coffee sat on the table in front of them. Same cups, different colored straws. Matching set. I lowered my head and opened “Introduction to Financial Accounting. Chapter One: Cash and Cash Equivalents.” My phone buzzed. A text from Derek: “Department dinner tonight. Don’t wait up.” I typed back: “OK. Don’t drink too much.” Then I raised my phone, zoomed in on the window seats across the room, and took a photo. Three shots in a row. Sienna fed Derek a piece of fruit from her cup. He ate it. I saved the photos to the “Evidence” folder. Life settled into a rhythm. Tuesday and Thursday evenings. All day Saturday. Classes. Everything else: the library, selfstudy, auditing open lectures from the accounting department. There was a woman in my cohort named Mia. She worked as an assistant at an accounting firm. When she noticed how hard I was studying, she offered to lend me her practical training notes. “Are you doing this to find a job?” she asked. “Yeah. I want to be an accountant.” “Then you’ll need to sit for the CPA exam. But you need a bachelor’s degree to register.” “I know.” I smiled. “I’ll get the degree first.” Mia pointed me toward online courses and study guides. I bought all of them. I pulled the money from the household budget. Derek gave me three thousand dollars a month for “household expenses.” I logged it in the notebook under: “Education personal development.” He never noticed. He was getting busier. Home two, maybe three nights a week, always talking about preparing materials for the review, “building relationships” with the evaluation committee. One night he came in well past midnight, and there was perfume on his jacket. Not mine. I spoke into the dark. “Derek. The review hearing it’s on the fifteenth, next month, right?” He tensed. “How do you know that?” “You mentioned it once.” I paused. “Which room is it in?” “Conference Room A in the admin building. Why?” “I thought I might come watch. I’ve never seen you present before.” He made a short, dismissive sound. “You wouldn’t follow any of it. It’s all technical content. They’ll be streaming it live on the university site. Just watch it from home.” “Oh. Okay.” A beat of silence. Then his voice softened, already getting drowsy. “Once the promotion goes through, the package gets a lot better. We’ll go somewhere in Europe. And I’ll get you a decent bag.” He was almost asleep. “You should have some nice things…” His breathing evened out. I lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Then I reached under my pillow for my phone and opened the calendar. “November 15. Hearing.” Twentythree days away. I got up quietly, went to the living room, and opened the laptop. “The Cost of Building a Professor” was already at Chapter Five: “Invisible Labor and Social Capital Management.” I created a new chapter: “Academic Ethics and Personal Character: An Analysis of Their Relationship.” I started typing. “”The criteria for the Professor rank explicitly includes evaluation of professional ethics and conduct.”“ “”The following constitutes partial evidence of Professor Derek Collins’s inappropriate conduct with female students over the past several years…”“ I inserted the photos. The office. The library. Last week’s shot of Derek’s car Sienna in the passenger seat. Photo timestamps: June through October, 2023. “”Furthermore, Professor Collins has on multiple occasions described his legal spouse, Sarah Collins, as a ‘distant relative’ in public settings, suggesting deliberate concealment of his marital status for reasons that remain unclear…”“ I logged into the campus forum under my anonymous account three months old, levelthree status, enough to send private messages. I found a user called “Academic Tea Spillers.” They ran an anonymous tip account faculty drama, departmental scandals, the kind of thing people whispered about but never said out loud. I sent a message: “I have significant material on Professor Derek Collins. Financial misconduct, inappropriate relationships, ethics violations. Timed for before his review. Interested in collaborating?” Ten minutes later: “Do you have proof?” I sent a blurred photo Derek and Sienna, silhouettes in his car. “More available in person. I need you to guarantee the post goes live at exactly 10 a.m. on November 15th.” “Why that time?” “That’s when his tenure hearing starts.” Silence for a few minutes. “Deal. How do we stay in touch?” I gave them a second phone number. “Pleasure doing business.” By the time I finished, it was almost dawn. I shut the laptop and went back to bed. Derek was sound asleep, face relaxed, the faintest upward curve at the corner of his mouth. Probably dreaming about his promotion. I closed my eyes. Twentythree days. The countdown had started.

Derek stopped coming home entirely. He said the review had entered a critical phase and he was staying in faculty housing to be “available for the team at all times.” I put everything into studying. Mia noticed how fast I was improving and pulled me into her study group two other guys, both preparing for the CPA exam. “Honestly, you should just start studying for the CPA now,” Mia said. “You’ve got realworld experience, which gives you a huge advantage. As for the degree I know a way to fasttrack it.” “What kind of way?” “There’s an accelerated path for adult learners. Extra fees, extra exams, but you can finish in a year.” She lowered her voice. “I have a contact. But it costs money.” “How much?” “Thirty thousand dollars.” I thought about it all night. The next morning, I went to Derek’s office. No warning. I knocked. There was a rustling sound inside. Half a minute passed before the door opened. His expression went flat when he saw me. “You again.” “I need to talk to you.” I walked in. “Make it quick. I have a meeting.” He didn’t sit down. “I need thirty thousand dollars,” I said. He stared at me. “For what?” “Family matter.” His eyes narrowed. “Sarah, you’ve been acting strange. Always out somewhere. And now you’re asking for this kind of money.” He paused, and suspicion crept into his voice. “Did someone tell you something?” “Tell me what?” I asked. He opened his mouth, closed it, waved his hand. “Never mind. I can give you the money, but I’m tapped out right now. Wait until the promotion comes through the bonus will cover it.” “I need it now.” “Are you being reasonable?” His voice rose. “Do you have any idea how much I’m spending to manage this review? I don’t have thirty thousand dollars to hand you.” “Stop making things harder, Sarah. Not right now.” I looked at him steadily. “When you said you needed a laptop for your research, I pulled out everything I had saved four thousand eight hundred dollars. I gave you every cent. You said you’d pay me back when you were earning.” His expression shifted. “When your mother needed surgery, the bill was fifty thousand dollars. I borrowed from every coworker I had, then took out a highinterest loan. You said she was as good as my own mother and you’d never forget what I did.” “When your paper got rejected and you needed money to get it placed, I worked three jobs for two months and lost fifteen pounds. You said that once you made something of yourself, you’d never let me struggle again.” “That’s “enough”.” He kept his voice low, but the edge in it was sharp. “You want to drag up the past? I’m “working” on it. Once the promotion goes through, everything gets better. That was always the plan.” “So. Thirty thousand dollars. Yes or no?” He stared at me for a long moment. Then he grabbed his wallet, yanked out a card, and slapped it on the desk. “The PIN is my birthday. There’s twentyfive thousand in there that’s everything I’ve got. Take it and go.” I picked up the card. I turned and walked out. As the door closed behind me, I heard him get on the phone, voice deliberately softened. “”Nothing. Just a relative needing a loan. Took care of it…”“ I didn’t take the elevator. I walked down the stairs. At the landing, I called Mia. “I have the money. Go ahead and start the paperwork for the accelerated degree. As fast as possible.” “On it! You just focus on studying, I’ll handle everything else.” “CPA registration opens in April you’ll make it no problem.” I hung up and pushed through the building’s front doors. I opened the campus forum app and checked my anonymous inbox. “Academic Tea Spillers” had messaged: “Evidence received. This is explosive.” “You’re sure about 10 a.m. on the 15th? That’s when he’s midhearing. Maximum impact.” I replied: “Confirmed. I want the exact moment it destroys him. Down to the second.” “Understood. Final payment?” “Thirty minutes before the hearing starts. In full.” “Pleasure doing business.” I logged out and cleared the cache. Then I opened the encrypted audio file on my phone. Derek’s voice came through the speaker: “”Sienna is just a student. Her father’s on the board. I have to manage that.”“ “”The other faculty wives are always comparing notes.”“ “”Once I get the promotion, I’ll take you shopping.”“ I clipped several segments, opened “The Cost of Building a Professor,” and inserted the audio links into the final chapter with the note: “Additional recordings available in the attached archive.” I compressed the file, encrypted it, and backed it up to three separate cloud accounts. When that was done, I walked to the accounting department’s administrative office. “Hi I had a question about CPA exam registration. If someone is currently enrolled in an adult bachelor’s program, can they register?” The advisor pushed his glasses up. “Per current regulations, you need a completed bachelor’s degree.” “However, if you can provide an enrollment verification and your transcripts, we can run a preliminary review. You’d submit the actual diploma once it’s issued.” “What’s the fastest timeline for getting a degree?” He flipped through some paperwork. “Standard track is two years. Expedited…” He scanned the page. “Three to four months, but it requires additional coursework and fees.” “I want the expedited track,” I said. “You’ve got real drive,” he said with a smile. “Bring in your documents and I’ll submit the paperwork personally.” “Thank you.” Walking out of the office, I got a call from Derek. His tone had done a complete oneeighty. “Hey. I was pretty short with you earlier I’m sorry about that.” “Take whatever you need from the account. If it’s not enough, just tell me.” “I’ve been under a lot of pressure. Don’t take it personally.” A pause. “The fifteenth they’re streaming the hearing live on the university site. You can watch from home.” Another pause. “Wish me luck.” “Good luck,” I said. “You’ll do great.” I hung up and stood outside the building in the open air. I held my phone tightly. Ten days until November 15th. I just needed nothing to go wrong.

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The next morning, I stared blankly at the divorce papers sitting on the nightstand. Right next to them, my wife’s best friend slid a check for one million dollars toward me, plunging my brain into absolute chaos. This entire nightmare started because I came home early from a business trip, hoping to give my wife a romantic surprise. Who could have guessed that my little surprise would turn into a horrifying trauma for everyone involved? Faced with this sudden, massive windfall, was I actually supposed to take the money? 1 After being away on a business trip for nearly a month, I was desperate to get home. I finished the project ahead of schedule and decided not to tell my wife, Sophie. I wanted to give her a proper surprise. At midnight, I dragged my suitcase through the hallway and sneaked up to my front door. I pressed my thumb to the smart lock, and the door clicked open. Perfect. She had not changed the locks. I was still welcome in my own house. The apartment was pitch black and completely silent. Sophie was clearly already asleep. I quietly took off my shoes, left my suitcase in the foyer, and headed straight for the bathroom. The hot shower washed away weeks of travel exhaustion. After nearly a month of forced celibacy, I felt like a caged tiger finally seeing the open door. I wrapped a towel around my waist and crept into the master bedroom on my tiptoes. The moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains, illuminating a curvy silhouette buried under the duvet, sleeping soundly. My blood ran hot. I lifted the edge of the blanket and slipped inside without making a sound. A heavy scent of alcohol hit my nose immediately. Wow. She really let loose while I was gone. Whatever. A little liquid courage meant she might be a little wilder tonight. I wrapped my arms around her from behind. The warmth of her skin pressed against me, and every cell in my body woke up. She mumbled something in her sleep and rolled over to face me. In the pitch black room, I could not make out her features, but the familiar scent of her expensive shampoo destroyed my remaining self control. I lowered my head and kissed her. Things escalated quickly. Looking back, there were definitely a few warning signs. For instance, “Sophie” was unusually enthusiastic tonight. And her curves felt just a tiny bit different than I remembered. But in the heat of the moment, with my blood rushing south, I did not overthink it. I figured the long distance just made the heart grow fonder. The next morning, I was violently jolted awake by two pairs of eyes glaring daggers at my face. I blinked my sleep heavy eyes, my brain still buffering. Then, I witnessed the most terrifying scene of my entire life. On my left lay a woman with messy hair and a flushed face, staring at me like I was a sleep paralysis demon. On my right, sitting in an armchair by the bed, was another woman. She wore her silk pajamas, arms crossed, face pale with a cold fury that could freeze the Sahara. The woman on the left was Emma, my wife’s best friend. The woman on the right was Sophie, my wife. I could not speak. My brain went through the entire process of booting up, crashing, and forcing a hard restart. My logic centers were completely fried. Who was I? Where was I? What exactly did I do last night? The woman from last night was not Sophie? It was Emma?! A phantom thunderbolt struck the top of my skull. My entire body went numb, from my scalp down to my toenails. “Connor.” Sophie’s voice was calm. Too calm. Like the dead silence before a hurricane. “Are you awake?” I nodded mechanically. My throat felt like it had been scrubbed with sandpaper. I could not force a single word out. “How was it?” she continued, a freezing smile curling the corners of her lips. “Was my best friend to your liking?” “No… honey, you have to listen to me!” I finally found my voice. I scrambled to get out of bed, but my leg tangled in the sheets, and I crashed face first onto the hardwood floor. Thud. I felt my dignity shatter right alongside my jaw. “Listen to you?” Sophie scoffed. “Sure. Go ahead. Emma and I have been sitting here for an hour waiting for you to wake up, just so we could hear your brilliant explanation.” Emma, who was still frozen in the bed, finally snapped out of her shock. She yanked the duvet up to her chin, wrapping herself tightly. Her beautiful face was bright red, and tears welled up in her eyes from a mix of humiliation and absolute rage. “Connor! You bastard! What did you do to me!” I stayed on the floor, raising one trembling hand. “Hold on, I should be asking you that! Why were you sleeping in my bed?!” “This is my bed!” Sophie’s voice spiked an octave. “Emma got wasted last night. I let her sleep in the master, and I took the guest room! How was I supposed to know you would sneak back in the middle of the night like a creep!” I understood. I understood everything. The chain of logic instantly clicked into place in my head. I, Connor, an innocent and devoted husband, came home early to surprise my wife. But because my kindhearted wife took in her drunk best friend, I got into the wrong bed and hooked up with the wrong woman. What kind of absolute nightmare was this! This was more ridiculous than a cheap soap opera! I kneeled on the floor, burying my face in my hands. My life was officially over. “Sophie, I swear to God, I really thought it was you!” I pleaded, my voice cracking. “The room was completely dark, and it smelled like tequila! How was I supposed to know the difference!” Emma was shaking with anger on the mattress. “Difference? Are you blind! Do Sophie and I look alike? Do we even have the same body type?!” I instinctively opened my mouth to compare the two, but my survival instincts kicked in and I swallowed the words. Telling the truth right now would be like pouring gasoline on a forest fire. “I… I wasn’t thinking straight. I lost my mind…” Smack. A decorative pillow hit me squarely in the face. Sophie threw it. “Connor!” She gritted her teeth, enunciating every syllable. “Are you telling me that as long as it is a woman, and she is drunk in your bed, you will just lose your mind? You are unbelievable!” It was over. The more I tried to explain, the worse it sounded. I could jump into a river of bleach and still not wash this sin clean. Everything I said was wrong. Everything I did was a crime. The next hour was the darkest moment of my entire existence. It was a full blown interrogation. Sophie and Emma played good cop, bad cop. Actually, they both played bad cop. One led the questioning, and the other filled in the gaps. They grilled me on every single detail, from the exact minute I walked through the door, to how long I showered, to every single move I made in that bed. I kneeled by the nightstand like a convict on trial, confessing everything without holding a single detail back. I desperately hoped that full transparency might buy me a sliver of mercy. “So, from start to finish, you never noticed anything was wrong?” Sophie narrowed her eyes, looking at me like a cat analyzing a mouse. I pulled a miserable face. “I noticed, but things were already moving too fast. I thought you were just trying out a new routine… I thought you were giving me a surprise…” “A surprise?!” Emma’s voice wavered from under the duvet, thick with tears. “More like a horror movie! You took advantage of me!” I wanted to cry. Look, it was my first time cheating too! I had never been with another woman since I got married! “Shut up!” Sophie barked, making me flinch. She stood up and paced the room. The sharp clicks of her slippers against the floorboards felt like she was stomping directly on my heart. Finally, she stopped. She pulled a pen and a stack of paper from the nightstand drawer. She scribbled furiously for a few seconds, then slapped the paper onto the floor right in front of me. “Connor. Sign it.” I looked down. At the top, in bold letters, it read: Divorce Agreement. Below that, she had written: The husband, Connor, commits adultery and gross misconduct. He voluntarily agrees to leave the marriage with nothing. All assets go to the wife, Sophie. My blood ran completely cold. “Sophie, is this really necessary? It was a genuine mistake! I swear on my life, you are the only woman in my heart!” “A mistake?” Sophie sneered. “You call this a mistake? Then please, enlighten me. What exactly qualifies as intentional? Do I need to catch you starring in an adult film for it to count?” “I mean… we technically were starring in one last night,” I muttered under my breath. “Excuse me?!” Sophie grabbed a glass of water from the table, fully prepared to launch it at my head. Emma quickly reached out and grabbed her wrist. “Sophie, don’t. He isn’t worth it.” Emma turned her head to look at me. Her expression was incredibly complicated. There was shame, humiliation, and something else I could not quite read. She reached into her designer purse on the nightstand, pulled out her checkbook, and furiously wrote out a line of numbers. She ripped the check out and held it in front of my face. “Connor, I know you didn’t do it on purpose. But… it happened. Here is one million dollars. Consider it… compensation. Take the money, sign the divorce papers, and get out of our lives. We are completely even, and we will never speak again.” I stared at the divorce agreement on the floor, then looked up at the one million dollar check in her hand. On one hand, I was being kicked out with absolutely zero assets. On the other hand, a million dollars. Instant wealth. This ridiculous fortune had practically fallen out of the sky. I fell into deep thought. I was a man of strict principles. But in the face of a million dollars, my principles started to wobble just a little bit. I swallowed hard and looked up at them. Sophie’s eyes were full of absolute resolve. Emma’s eyes were rushing me to take the deal. I took a deep breath and made the hardest decision of my life. With a trembling hand, I reached out. I did not take the check. Instead, I picked up the pen from the floor. Sophie’s expression softened just a fraction, as if thinking, ‘At least you have some spine left.’ Emma frowned, clearly thinking, ‘Is one million not enough?’ Then, under their watchful eyes, I pressed the pen to the check and quietly added another zero to the end of the number. “Um… Emma,” I looked up, flashing what I hoped was my most sincere smile. “Do you think we could make this ten million? I mean, this was my first time too. The emotional trauma is pretty severe.” The room descended into a dead, suffocating silence. Sophie’s face transitioned from shock, to disbelief, and finally to explosive wrath. Emma’s face went from confused, to blank, to purely homicidal. Three seconds later. “Connor! I am going to kill you!” “You absolute garbage! Go to hell!” Two women, two pillows, a bedside lamp, and an endless barrage of expensive cosmetics rained down on me like a meteor shower. I covered my head as they physically beat me out of the bedroom and down the hall. Slam. The heavy front door closed violently behind me. I, Connor, wearing absolutely nothing but a pair of SpongeBob boxers, still clutching that stupid pen, was officially kicked out of my own home. The cold morning draft blew through the apartment hallway. I shivered and looked down at the pen in my hand. Great. Forget ten million dollars. I did not even have ten cents. I was a project manager at a publicly traded company. Usually, I wore tailored suits and looked like a respectable human being. Right now, I was squatting outside my own apartment in cartoon underwear, deeply reconsidering all of my life choices. My phone, my wallet, my keys. Everything was locked inside. I was broke and practically naked. To make matters worse, my nosy neighbor, Mrs. Higgins, opened her door to take out the trash. She froze and stared at me for three agonizing seconds. “Connor… is this some sort of performance art?” I gave her an incredibly awkward smile and strategically covered my crotch. “Good morning, Mrs. Higgins. I was just… playing a game with my wife. Roleplay.” Mrs. Higgins gave me a knowing look, shook her head, and carried her trash bags away. I heard her muttering, “Kids these days are out of their minds.” I mentally logged another devastating entry into my social suicide diary. I could not stay out here. My only hope was my best friend, Tyler. He lived in the apartment complex right next to mine. I took a deep breath, gathered my courage, and sprinted down the stairs as fast as humanly possible. Along the way, I received highly confused stares from elderly people doing their morning jogs. Some looked at me with pity. Some with disgust. A few pulled out their phones. I did not even want to imagine the absolute bloodbath that would be the neighborhood group chat tomorrow. I just knew I had to reach Tyler’s place before someone called the cops and had me arrested for public indecency. Bang! Bang! Bang! I hammered on Tyler’s door like a madman. It took forever before I heard Tyler’s groggy voice from the other side. “Who the hell is it? Did somebody die?” The door swung open. Tyler was yawning and rubbing his eyes. When his vision focused on me, he instantly woke up. His eyes bugged out, and his jaw dropped low enough to catch a baseball. “Holy shit! Connor? Did you get abducted by aliens and just escape?” I ignored his jokes, squeezed past him into the apartment, and slammed the door shut. I leaned against the wood, panting heavily, feeling like I had just survived a war zone. Tyler looked me up and down, clicking his tongue in amazement. “Not bad, bro. The abs paired with the SpongeBob give off a very innocent yet feral vibe.” “Shut up!” I snapped. “Find me some clothes. And get me a glass of water, I am dying.” Wearing Tyler’s oversized t-shirt and baggy shorts made me look like I was wearing a potato sack. I chugged three glasses of water before I finally explained the entire disaster to him, leaving nothing out. Tyler listened, falling into a long, profound silence. He frowned. He nodded. He occasionally looked at me with deep pity. I stared at him, my nerves completely fried. “Tyler, say something! What the hell do I do now?” Tyler finally opened his mouth. He patted my shoulder with solemn gravity. “Connor. Look on the bright side.” “What bright side?” “I mean,” Tyler said, looking deeply serious, “Your wife, Sophie, is gorgeous. Tall, beautiful, elegant. Her best friend, Emma, is petite, cute, and has a crazy figure. In one night, you got to experience both top tier aesthetics. Sure, the process was a little messy, but the result is a win. From a purely biological standpoint… you scored.” I stared at him. I genuinely wanted to punch his head clean off his shoulders. “Be serious!” I yelled. “Okay, okay, I’m serious.” Tyler dropped the smirk and rubbed his chin, suddenly playing the role of a master strategist. “First, let us analyze the core of the problem.” “The core is that I slept in the wrong bed.” “No,” Tyler wagged his finger. “The core is that you not only got into the wrong bed, but you fumbled the aftermath. It could have been a beautiful accident, but you literally turned it into financial extortion.” I remembered my bold attempt to add a zero to the check, and my face burned. “I had a temporary lapse in judgment!” “You had a poverty possessed brain,” Tyler corrected bluntly. “Right now, Sophie wants a divorce, and Emma wants you dead. You are the villain in both of their stories.” “So what do I do? Beg on my knees? Write an apology in blood?” “Useless.” Tyler shook his head. “When women are that angry, breathing is a crime. The more you beg, the more pathetic you look. In my professional opinion, you need a drastic move.” “What drastic move?” My eyes lit up. I was desperate for anything. Tyler lowered his voice, looking incredibly secretive. “We need to flip the script. Turn your defensive position into an offensive strike.” “How?” “Think about it. Whose fault is this really?” “Mine.” “No. On the surface, it looks like your fault. But what is the root cause? Emma got drunk and slept in your bed! Sophie invited a guest into the master bedroom and did not warn you! You are the real victim here!” I listened, completely stunned. That actually… made a twisted kind of sense? “And?” “And so, you cannot apologize!” Tyler slapped his thigh. “You need to act more wronged, more furious, and more heartbroken than they are!” “What?” “You call Sophie and tell her you never expected her to be so evil. Accuse her of teaming up with Emma to set you up in a honey trap! Tell her your true love was completely wasted on her!” My jaw dropped. “Are you insane? She will skin me alive!” “You know nothing about psychology. This is a survival tactic!” Tyler spat passionately. “Women have soft hearts. If you act convincing enough, if you make her think you are actually the victim, she will start doubting herself. She will wonder if she really misunderstood you.” “What about Emma?” “Emma is even easier.” Tyler grinned wickedly. “You tell her that you are going to take full responsibility for her! From today on, she is your woman! Tell her you are going to marry her!” Pfft. I choked on my water and sprayed it across the room. “Are you out of your mind?! Marry her? What about Sophie?!” “That is exactly the point! You make Sophie realize you are not joking! You trigger her panic! You make her realize that if she doesn’t forgive you right now, you are actually going to become her best friend’s husband!” I looked at Tyler. He wasn’t giving me advice; he was handing me a shovel to dig my own grave. This plan sounded incredibly suicidal. But looking at my current situation, I had absolutely zero alternatives. I had to bet it all. I gritted my teeth. “Fine! We do it your way!”

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1 Gideon and I were once the deadliest duo in our covert ops unit. We breathed and bled together. Then, fate played a cruel joke. During a high-stakes op, we were forced to pose as husband and wife, and the fake marriage eventually became a real chain. He resented me for stealing the title of “wife” from the woman he truly loved. I hated him for marrying me out of duty, with nothing left of his heart to give. For five bitter years, we weaponized our silence, each hoping the other would vanish. Until the past caught up with us. A cartel we had dismantled years ago came for revenge. They tied me to a C4-wired chair on a yacht and forced Gideon to choose: “You die, or she dies.” The moment the shot rang out, Gideon did the unthinkable. Without hesitation, he threw himself over me, tackled the cartel boss, and dragged them both into the icy ocean—opting for mutual destruction. Before the water swallowed him, he whispered up to me: “If there’s a next life, let’s just be partners. Never husband and wife.” Then, the timer on my chair reached zero, and everything erupted in pain. When I opened my eyes, I wasn’t in the ocean. I was back in the sterile briefing room at headquarters—on the very day we were meant to draw lots for the undercover mission. This time, I didn’t hesitate. I stepped forward, snatched both wooden sticks from the table, and declared calmly, “Skip the draw. I’m taking the solo assignment.” In this life, I would set him free. I would not be the wall between him and the woman he truly loved. When my fingers closed around both long sticks, a flicker of surprise twisted my stomach. I looked up at the Director. Arthur shifted his weight, his eyes darting away from mine. A second later, his expression tightened into something complicated. “Raven, this syndicate is ruthless. Are you absolutely certain you want to go in completely alone?” In my previous life, Ruby had drawn the long stick first, marking her as the mole. Gideon and I had been paired as her backup, posing as a married couple. Back then, my heart had fluttered at the thought of playing his wife. I was so blinded by my own foolish crush that I never realized Arthur, who had always favored me, had rigged the draw to keep me out of the direct line of fire. But Arthur couldn’t have known his protective gesture would doom Gideon and me to five years of mutual torture. I gave Arthur a look of genuine gratitude. “Ruby is too impulsive. Her cover would blow in a week. I’ll take the inside job.” Seeing the finality in my eyes, Arthur gave a stiff nod. With me going in deep, the backup roles fell into place. Ruby would automatically pair with Gideon to play the married couple running surveillance. The moment we stepped into the hallway, Gideon came striding around the corner, his tactical boots heavy against the linoleum. Ruby’s face instantly lit up. “Gideon!” His expression was as icy as ever, but his eyes locked onto hers with a gravitational pull. They stared at each other for a beat too long, and Ruby finally looked down, the tips of her ears burning scarlet. The raw, unspoken tension between them felt like a knife twisting in my chest. A split second later, Gideon grabbed my elbow and dragged me down the corridor, out of earshot. Behind him, Ruby’s flushed face morphed into a mask of pure jealousy. “I am completely against this operational plan,” Gideon hissed, his grip bruising my arm. “Silas is a paranoid psychopath. He’ll smell a rat the second an undercover agent steps into his inner circle.” He leaned closer, his voice vibrating with barely contained panic. “Ruby doesn’t have the miles on her for this. I will not sign off on throwing her to the wolves.” I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth. In my last life, he had fought just as hard when he thought Ruby was the one going in. He had argued every angle, torn apart every strategy. And when he failed, I had calmly waited until deployment day, taken his arm, and dragged him to the courthouse to make our cover unbreakable. “You know the protocol,” I said, my voice deadpan. “Someone has to get close to Silas. It was always going to be me or Ruby.” His jaw clenched. His eyes, usually so cold and calculating, burned with arrogant certainty. “If Command gives me just a little more time, I can find another pressure point. Pushing a woman into Silas’s bed isn’t the only tactical entry we have.” I offered him a hollow, pitying smile. The only reason Command narrowed it down to me or Ruby was because we spent most of our careers sporting buzzcuts and tactical gear. Silas’s intel stated our strike team was entirely male. Sending a female operative in high heels and silk was our only blind spot advantage. “Captain,” I said, my tone stripping away years of our partnership. “We are out of time. The op is green-lit. Show up to the briefing or don’t. Your call.” I yanked my arm free and walked away, leaving him standing there in stunned silence. I had no intention of telling him that I was the one going into the snake pit. Let him hear the good news from his precious Ruby. He’d be thrilled to know she was safe. Gideon, I thought, the neon lights buzzing above me. In this life, I’ll trade the title of your wife for a glass of whiskey poured over your grave. 2 That night, alone in my quarters, the reality of my rebirth still felt like a fever dream. A soft knock pulled me from my thoughts. I cracked the door to find Arthur standing in the dim hallway, holding a greasy paper bag of street skewers and a six-pack of imported beer. “I don’t drink before a deployment,” I said, raising an eyebrow at him. He stepped past me, making himself at home on my worn sofa. “I know. That’s why I’m drinking the beer, and you’re eating the meat.” A genuine laugh punched its way out of my chest. He drank in silence. I ate in silence. It was a comfortable rhythm we had built over the years. Finally, the question burning in my throat had to come out. “Why did you do it?” He knew exactly what I was asking. He took a slow pull from his bottle and smirked. “I was shipping you two. Thought I’d give fate a nudge.” I rolled my eyes so hard they hurt, but the chaotic storm in my chest finally settled into a quiet calm. The next morning, the sun hadn’t even crested the horizon when a fist hammered against my door. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and undid the latch. Gideon shoved the door open, practically vibrating with rage. His eyes were bloodshot. The corners of his eyes, usually sharp and calculating, were tight with fury. Before a mission, he always drew a small scorpion motif near his temple—the mark that earned him his lethal reputation in the underworld. His skin was bare today, but his glare was venomous enough to kill. “Raven, you are absolute garbage.” He backed me against the wall. “Why the hell did you conspire with the Director to rig the draw?” His hands flew up, his fingers digging into my shoulders, shaking me. “I actually thought… I thought it was just the luck of the draw. Destiny.” His thumbs pressed dangerously close to my windpipe. I clawed at his wrists, my voice tight. “Gideon, back off! You’re hurting me!” “You feel pain?” he spat, his face inches from mine. “Do you think Ruby wouldn’t feel pain? Do you think getting tortured to death on an undercover op wouldn’t hurt?” He was panting, his chest heaving. “You have no idea what happened last time—” He abruptly cut himself off, his jaw snapping shut as if he had almost spilled a state secret. When he looked at me again, the fury had melted into absolute, crushing disappointment. “Why are you so hellbent on tearing us apart? Why do you insist on sending Ruby to her death?” His grip tightened, cutting off my air. Initially, I hadn’t braced for combat, but the lack of oxygen flipped my training switch. I twisted my hips, grabbed his elbow, and threw my weight forward. In the cramped space of my quarters, the fight was brutal and fast. “Are you out of your mind?!” I yelled, pinning his arm against the drywall. “The assignment comes from Command! We don’t write the script!” His eyes were feral. “You’re lying! Both sticks were long! Ruby told me she drew the long one to go deep cover. We all know you and Arthur played us!” I knew exactly where his old injuries were. I pressed my knee into the nerve cluster on his thigh, forcing him down. “I’ll say it one last time,” I hissed in his ear. “Command makes the calls. As for what you really want… I’m sure Command will accommodate your happily ever after.” He let out a broken, cynical laugh. “What I want… I can never have it again. Because of you.” I held him until the fight completely drained out of his muscles. When I finally stepped back, he dropped to his knees, his fists slamming into the floorboards. Seconds later, he stood up. The emotional wreckage was gone, replaced by the glacial, untouchable captain I knew so well. It was as if his total breakdown hadn’t just happened. He threw a muttered “My mistake” over his shoulder and walked out. I didn’t say a word. Only Ruby could make him lose his mind like that. In our previous life, while playing the perfect married couple, Gideon had been dosed with a highly potent neural-stimulant by an enemy target. To maintain our cover and save his life, I gave myself to him. Even in bed, he was a statue of military discipline, his face carved from stone. There was no passion. No heat. When the drug wore off, he buttoned his shirt without looking at me and said, “I’ll take responsibility for this.” After Ruby died and the mission imploded, we never bothered to file the divorce papers. We just existed in the same airspace. But from that day on, he treated me like a stranger carrying a disease. We went from being the team’s most lethal, synchronized weapon to a hollow couple who only communicated in nods. I thought taking the bullet for this undercover op would preserve our professional respect. Clearly, I was wrong. The cracks were already showing. But maybe this was for the best. If Silas put a bullet in my brain, Gideon wouldn’t lose any sleep over it. 3 The syndicate had been under Command’s microscope for three years. The intel was dense. Our squad sat around the conference table, methodically breaking down the entry strategy. Because she was now paired with Gideon to play his wealthy wife, Ruby couldn’t stop beaming. As the briefing wrapped, she pulled a small, tarnished silver pendant from her pocket and slid it across the table with a shy smile. “Gideon, I got this from St. Jude’s cathedral yesterday. For protection.” Gideon was a hardline atheist. He despised anything related to faith or prayer. After his father died when he was seven, his mother drained their bank accounts, gave the money to a cult, and abandoned him to live in an ashram. He grew up eating scraps and surviving on pure spite. Once, during a heavy firefight, I had muttered a quick prayer to survive. He had shoved his rifle barrel against my vest and snarled, “Say that again and I’ll kick you out of my unit myself.” So, when Ruby offered the saint’s medallion, the entire squad collectively held their breath, waiting for the explosion. Instead, Gideon’s lips curled into a gentle smile. He took the pendant, looped it around his neck, and reached into his tactical vest. He pulled out a heavy, vintage silver locket. I recognized it instantly. It was the only thing his mother had left behind. The man was a walking contradiction—he hated her guts, but carried her memory over his heart. In our past life, shortly after we married, I accidentally knocked that locket off a table. He didn’t say a word. He just grabbed my collar and flipped me over his shoulder onto the hardwood floor. Jax, our comms specialist, leaned back in his chair and whistled. “Damn, Cap. You finally thawing out?” I unscrewed the cap of my canteen and took a long drag of water. For some reason, it tasted like ash. Bitter. Worse than the black sludge from the breakroom coffee maker. Another teammate chuckled. “Our girl Ruby is unstoppable. She bagged the Captain, and now she’s gonna go deep cover and wrap Silas around her little finger. This op is in the bag!” My head snapped up. I stared at Ruby in total shock. She avoided my gaze, suddenly fascinated by the stitching on her holster. She hadn’t told them. She was letting the team believe she was the one going in. I couldn’t fathom why she was playing this game. Jax grinned. “Hey, you better watch your six in there, Ruby. Silas eats pretty girls for breakfast.” I watched Gideon’s knuckles turn white. He slammed his fist onto the metal table, the sound echoing like a gunshot. “Shut your mouth!” he barked. The room instantly flatlined. Nobody dared to breathe. After the meeting, Ruby cornered me in the shadowed stairwell. “Raven, I… I didn’t mean to take the credit for the undercover gig. It’s just that Gideon pulled me aside.” Her face flushed a deep crimson. “He was so worried about me. He spent the whole night going over deep-cover protocols and infiltration tactics with me.” She looked up through her lashes. “I just didn’t have the heart to tell him I wasn’t the one going in.” Looking at her playing the bashful maiden, everything clicked into place. I sighed and rubbed my temples. “It’s fine. He’s the team lead. He should be training you. Just soak up the intel.” After all, she was going to be his partner in the field from now on. I had to keep telling myself that. I honestly couldn’t remember how I walked back to my room that night. 4 The next morning, the air in the briefing room was thick enough to choke on. I was two minutes late. There were six people in the room, making me the seventh. No one was sitting. Gideon stood at the head of the table, radiating pure violence. When I walked in, his eyes locked onto mine. “The day you joined my squad, I gave you three ironclad rules. Jax. Recite them.” Jax swallowed hard, looking from me to Gideon. “Uh. Rule one: keep yourself breathing. Rule two: keep your squad breathing. Rule three: no internal sabotage or backstabbing.” Gideon’s gaze shifted to the sniper standing next to Jax. “Penalty for breaking rule three?” “Three thousand push-ups, ten-mile run with an eighty-pound ruck. And a public apology.” Gideon turned his dead eyes back to me. “Raven. Drop.” I planted my boots, totally confused. “What the hell are you talking about?” Jax took a step toward me, his face grim. “Look, Raven… I love you like a sister, but what you did crossed the line. You need to apologize to Ruby right now.” The rest of the squad nodded in agreement. I looked at Ruby. She was staring at the floor, hugging her arms around herself. “You want to play dumb?” Gideon growled. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a folded tissue, and threw it onto the table. It was the vintage silver locket. Smashed into pieces. “I gave this to Ruby to keep her safe,” Gideon’s voice was a lethal whisper. “You couldn’t handle that, so you ripped it off her neck and crushed it?” My eyes widened in absolute horror. “What? No! I didn’t touch it!” I spun toward the girl. “Ruby, tell them! Tell them what actually happened!” She bit her trembling lip and shook her head, tears spilling over her lashes. “Raven… I didn’t want to say anything, but Gideon saw it. If I lie, he’ll punish me instead.” “Raven,” Jax cut in softly. “We all know you’ve got feelings for the boss, but going scorched-earth out of jealousy? Over a piece of silver? He just wanted her safe. She’s going into the lion’s den, for god’s sake.” The rest of the team chimed in, their voices a chorus of disappointment and anger. I stared at Ruby, my mind short-circuiting. I couldn’t comprehend how someone could fabricate such a flawless, devastating lie out of thin air. “Ruby. Look me in the eye.” My voice shook with suppressed rage. “Did I do this?” She let out a choked sob and buried her face in her hands. “Gideon… she didn’t mean it, please don’t be mad at her.” “Enough!” Gideon roared. He marched up to me, his chest almost brushing mine. “You make me sick. You have become a liability. You don’t deserve the patch on your shoulder.” His eyes were merciless. “Take the punishment and confess, and maybe we let you stay in the unit. Refuse, and I am marching up to Command to have your badge stripped. You’re no operator. You’re a jealous child.” I shook my head, my eyes burning. We had bled together in war zones. He knew my character down to my bones. But all it took was a few fake tears from Ruby, and suddenly I was a traitor? “Are you going to apologize?!” he barked. I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted copper. I kept my eyes locked on Ruby. After a long, agonizing silence, my voice came out like cracked ice. “I’m sorry.” “Louder!” “I am sorry!” “Drop.” I hit the floor. I didn’t speak. Three thousand push-ups was torture. Around the two-thousand mark, my triceps started spasming. My pace ground down to a grueling, agonizing crawl. When the last rep was done, I stood up, strapped on the eighty-pound ruck, and walked out the door. Jax tried to step forward to plead for me, but Gideon shut him down with one terrifying glare. I hit the asphalt track. Lap after lap. My vision blurred. My muscles screamed. Right near the finish line, my legs gave out, and I slammed hard into the dirt, tasting blood and gravel. A shadow fell over me. A suffocating cloud of designer perfume filled my lungs. “Tsk, tsk. Sorry about that, Raven.” Ruby crouched down next to me, a sickeningly sweet smile on her face. “I just wanted to test how much Gideon really cared about you.” She laughed, a sharp, ugly sound. “Turns out, not much.” I pushed myself up onto my elbows, glaring at her. “Why?” I rasped out. “Why do you all want me to take the deep-cover op? You know it’s a death sentence. Arthur wants it, Gideon wants it… he spent all week training you, just to make sure you wouldn’t have to go. So I’m just collateral damage?” I let out a bitter, exhausted laugh. “It’s not going to work out the way you think, Ruby.” “Oh, really? Don’t think I don’t know you stole those sticks. And so what if you’ve been his partner? Once I’m standing by his side in the field, I’ll erase every memory he has of you.” “I’m sure you will,” I whispered tiredly. He already loved her. That was a fixed point in the universe. But my quiet resignation sounded like a challenge to her ears. Her eyes flared with malice. “Don’t get cocky, bitch.” Before I could react, she lunged forward, pinning my exhausted arm down. She jammed a small white pill against my lips. “I just need you to do me one more favor!” But in a chaotic blur of motion, she suddenly shoved the pill into my palm, grabbed my hand, and forced it to push the pill into her own mouth. She collapsed backward, clutching her throat. “Raven! Why are you doing this to me?!” Her eyes were wide with perfectly feigned terror. Heavy boots pounded into the dirt behind me. Gideon flew past me, dropping to his knees and gathering Ruby into his arms. He whipped his head around, his face feral. “What the hell did you force her to swallow?!” “Gideon…” Ruby whimpered, her face flushing crimson as she curled into his chest. “I feel so hot. I… I just came down to help her back to the barracks. I brought her medical spray…” Tears streamed down her cheeks. She looked like a broken angel. My mind spun. How could someone with this level of psychotic acting ability possibly fail an undercover op in her past life? Before I could solve the puzzle, Gideon’s hand shot out and clamped around my throat, slamming my head back into the dirt. My airway collapsed. Black spots danced in my vision. “What. Did. You. Give. Her. Where is the antidote?!” I tried to peel his iron fingers off, a manic, hysterical laugh bubbling up in my chest. “Ask her! Ask her what she took!” His eyes were rimmed with red. The absolute disgust radiating from him felt like physical blows. “What the hell did you turn into? Or have you always been this twisted and I was just too blind to see it?” He kicked me in the ribs, sending me sprawling across the dirt. My body was completely broken from the punishment. I didn’t have the strength to lift my arms. I swallowed the blood pooling in my mouth, forcing myself up on one trembling arm. I looked right at the trembling girl in his arms. “Bravo. I hope you can keep the mask on forever.” “You are beyond saving,” Gideon snarled. “I am submitting the paperwork to burn your operative number. I’m reporting every single thing you’ve done. You are unfit to wear the uniform.” Operative Number: 01467. It was my father’s old call sign. Gideon knew exactly why I fought so hard to inherit it. But right now, blinded by what he thought he saw, he was going to strip me of my legacy. Panic finally broke through my exhaustion. “I was wrong! Gideon, I admit it, I was wrong, please don’t—” He didn’t even look back. He scooped Ruby up and sprinted toward the medical wing. My vision narrowed to a pinprick, and the darkness finally pulled me under.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “428916”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The blizzard grounded every flight out of Zurich, leaving me stranded in a sea of frustrated travelers inside the packed terminal. My phone screen suddenly lit up with a push notification. It was a video of Declan and Nancy holding their championship trophies. The comment section was already flooded with people calling them a literal power couple and the golden duo of the interpreting world. What stung the most was the little tag at the top. The video had just been shared and recommended by Declan himself. My fingers went numb as I opened our chat. More than a dozen unread messages sat pitifully on the screen. It was just me, rambling about my day, begging for his help. I had grown so used to talking to a brick wall. I was so used to chasing a silhouette that never bothered to look back. But right then, the sheer exhaustion of it all finally broke me. I had scored half a band higher than Nancy on the advanced French fluency exam. I was the one who originally signed up for this simultaneous interpreting competition with him. Why was someone else standing next to him, soaking up the flowers and the applause? It took me until this very moment to realize the truth. The real distance between us was never about test scores. This was already the nineteenth time he had unilaterally decided we were over. 1 Hour twenty three of being trapped in the Zurich airport. I watched that short video clip until I memorized every frame. When the winner of the French interpreting championship was announced, Nancy wept tears of joy and threw herself right into Declan’s arms. They were an incredibly attractive pair, so naturally, the embrace sent the internet into a frenzy. Declan rubbed her back to comfort her. Then, with a gentle touch I rarely ever saw, he picked a stray piece of confetti out of her hair. That single, simple gesture had the gossips screaming. “This is true love! A couple with matched intellects is just superior!” The internet era was truly magical. A snippet barely lasting a few seconds already had over a million likes. The comments praised them as a romance novel brought to life. Some internet sleuths even dug up their real life details. “That’s Declan! The absolute god of Yale’s linguistics department. He speaks five languages fluently. He went viral before for his looks during a debate, but his actual skills are terrifying.” “No wonder they took the gold. Partnering up with your girlfriend means the chemistry is off the charts.” The comments kept refreshing. I read them one by one until my eyes burned. Then, the words ‘Recommended by Declan’ popped up on my screen. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. So he was looking at his phone. He had the time to share a viral video of himself and Nancy. He just did not have the time to reply to my desperate cries for help. I was originally supposed to be his partner for this competition in Switzerland. During our layover, he abruptly informed me that Nancy would be taking my place. Yes, informed. He did not discuss it with me. He did not ask for my opinion. Winning this championship guaranteed a fully funded spot in a prestigious overseas grad program in Paris. Declan knew exactly how much this competition meant to me. I wanted to study abroad with him so badly. I practiced from dawn until midnight. I was so sleep deprived my roommates thought I was going to drop dead. My throat was so swollen from speaking drills that I completely lost my voice for a week. I simply could not accept his ridiculous decision. The fragile string holding my sanity together snapped. I broke down and demanded a reason. Declan just sounded utterly indifferent. “Serena, don’t you think you are being incredibly dramatic?” My brain stalled. I had no idea what he meant. “Excuse me?” “I mean your attitude is rarely serious. I simply do not trust you to perform well under the pressure of a live stage.” I felt completely lost. I forced a smile, still trying to negotiate with him. “How can you say that? We practiced together so many times, and you saw my progress. I just scored an 8.5 on the advanced French fluency index. Doesn’t that prove I am capable enough?” Declan cut me off with ice in his voice. “What exactly is there to be proud of with an 8.5?” “You swore up and down you would get a perfect score. And what happened? You are stuck in the exact same percentile every single time. Are you even trying?” “Serena, you grew up traveling the world with your parents. You enjoy a bottomless bank account and endless educational resources. How is it possible that you still can’t master a second language perfectly?” Those three rapid fire questions choked the air right out of my lungs. I knew he was obsessively disciplined. His academic standards bordered on absolute insanity. Back in the day, I studied until I made myself sick just to crack the top ten in our major. That was the only way I managed to catch the eye of the untouchable academic god. Declan had sky high ambitions. He didn’t care about romance or grand gestures. His only goal was to become the top interpreter in his field. He always said his girlfriend had to be equally exceptional. Just to stand by his side, I killed my own lazy habits. I buried myself in suffocating coursework right along with him. Just to keep up with his shadow, I gave it everything I had. I earned scholarships I never thought I could get. I collected certifications like spare change. Even the strictest professors praised my work. But from Declan, I received absolutely zero validation. I could never figure out why. I just kept comforting myself by saying he was naturally a harsh critic. Yet he handed my hard earned spot to Nancy, a girl whose grades were objectively worse than mine. A bitter seed of jealousy and resentment took root in my chest. It grew wild and out of control, wrapping tight around my heart. Even drawing breath hurt. I could not pretend to be calm anymore. “And what about her? Is her 7.0 suddenly the standard of excellence? Is that why you let her replace me?” Declan paused. When he spoke, his voice dripped with cold impatience. “Nancy is not like you. She actually works hard.” “Without your parents’ money paving the way, you wouldn’t even be in the same league as her.” I laughed out loud. It was a harsh, breathless sound. Then I hung up the phone. Works hard. Parents’ money. With just a few lightweight words, he entirely erased years of my blood, sweat, and tears. I tilted my head back, but thick tears still crashed down onto my phone screen. I lost the battle with my emotions. I opened our messages and started a massive argument with him. It ended exactly how it always did. Declan pulled his favorite trick and told me we were done. 2 If I actually sat down and counted, this was roughly the nineteenth time Declan initiated a breakup over academics. My French accent wasn’t authentic enough. I got an A instead of an A plus. I dropped one spot in the class rankings. Any of these were valid grounds for him to dump me. He measured the entire worth of our relationship against his own freezing, mechanical rubrics. He never cared when my menstrual cramps left me bedridden. He didn’t notice my new dresses. He never cared about the cute restaurants I wanted to try. Only a flawless transcript could earn me a kiss or a rare moment of affection. Half the time, I wondered if I was dating a cyborg. But the second I looked at his handsome, aloof face, my brain would turn to mush. In the end, I was always the one begging to get back together. Declan was fully aware of this dynamic. That was exactly why he threw the word ‘breakup’ around without a second thought. After all, I was the one who chased him relentlessly. The person who loves more always ends up losing their dignity. But this time, my fingers hovered over the keyboard. I stared at the screen for an eternity, completely unable to type out an apology. While I was still in a daze, I got a frantic phone call. My dad had suffered a sudden heart attack. I panicked and tried to book the first flight back to the States, only to discover every single route was canceled. That was when I finally looked out the massive glass windows. A heavy, blinding snowstorm had swallowed the city. The entire airport infrastructure was paralyzed. I felt like someone had ripped my spine out. I stumbled around the terminal, frantically trying to find someone who could help. I didn’t speak German. My French vocabulary completely scrambled in my panic. Halfway through trying to explain my situation to a staff member in English, my throat closed up, choked by violent sobs. Strangers shot me looks of deep pity, but they could only shake their heads. The more anxious I got, the worse my hands shook. I wiped the tears off my screen. The only person I could think of was Declan. He knew people in Zurich. He definitely had the connections to get me on an emergency flight home. I sent him over a dozen messages. I got absolute silence in return. I was trapped in that terminal all night. I cried until my eyes were completely dry. It wasn’t until dawn that I got the text saying my dad was out of surgery and stabilizing. Not long after that, the algorithm pushed that viral video onto my feed. A little green dot glowed next to Declan’s profile picture. He was online. I opened our chat and scrolled up. My heart plummeted straight into the abyss. The entire right side of the screen was just blocks of green text. It was my own pathetic monologue. He always claimed he was too busy studying to text back. I respected his focus. I accommodated his habits. I literally forced myself to stop being talkative just to please him. But today, the illusion shattered. He wasn’t too busy for his phone. He didn’t hate social media. He just didn’t give a damn about me. I wasn’t asking him to move mountains. A single text asking if I was okay would have been enough. He gave me nothing. While I was having a mental breakdown begging for his help, was he just rewatching his own victory speech? Or was he busy reading all the comments saying he and Nancy were soulmates? At this point, the answer didn’t even matter. Loving someone this much was utterly exhausting. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life chasing a ghost. It was better to just end it here and cut my losses. I didn’t try to contact him again. The moment I finally landed in the States, I went straight to the hospital to see my dad. The freezing night in the airport caught up to me. I developed a low grade fever and slept in a haze until the next morning. A phone call woke me up. It was one of the guys from my cohort. “Serena, are you not coming to Declan’s welcome back dinner? He’s drinking pretty heavy, and we are not babysitting him!” I opened my mouth to decline, but the guy quickly added more pressure. “Professor Bennett is here too. Are you absolutely sure you want to skip?” Professor Bennett had mentored me through the early stages of the competition. He had always looked out for me. Out of sheer respect for him, I couldn’t just brush it off. But when I pushed the private dining room door open, the room was entirely filled with students. There wasn’t a professor in sight. Nancy was pressed right up against Declan’s side. She looked at me and giggled. “Sorry, Serena. We were just playing Truth or Dare.” “Declan’s dare was to trick you into coming here. We really didn’t think you would actually show up!” 3 The fever made my whole body feel heavy and sluggish. My brain was a step behind. It was a long rectangular table. Everyone else was scattered on the sides, leaving Declan and Nancy sitting dead center like royalty. They looked like the real couple. I was just the intruder crashing their party. Right. I almost forgot. Declan and I were officially broken up. I had absolutely no right to be angry or jealous. When I just stood there without reacting, Nancy’s smile froze. She suddenly jumped up, looking incredibly flustered. “I am so sorry. This was the only empty seat earlier. I will go sit somewhere else right now.” But Declan reached out and pulled her right back down. His voice was laced with alcohol. “Don’t be ridiculous.” “Serena, leave Nancy alone.” He had that same, infuriatingly calm expression. I literally hadn’t said a single word. How was I the one being unreasonable? The irony made me sick. I dug my nails hard into my palms, trying to steady my trembling legs. I turned around, fully intending to walk right back out. One of Declan’s roommates rushed over and grabbed my arm. He pulled a chair up on Declan’s other side. “Come on, Serena, don’t be mad. We were just messing around. It’s a huge night, none of us want Declan’s girl missing out. You look super pale. Have you even eaten? Just sit down and get some food in you.” Standing was somewhat manageable. Sitting down and smelling the heavy grease of the restaurant food made my stomach violently churn. I gripped my chopsticks tight, swallowing down the nausea. “Declan and I broke up. Did he forget to mention that?” The chaotic noise in the private room vanished instantly. You could hear a pin drop. Clatter. Nancy’s chopsticks hit the floor. She muttered a quiet apology. When she bent down to pick them up, a tiny smirk flashed across her lips before vanishing entirely. Declan’s perfect composure finally cracked. He furrowed his brows and glared at me. “Serena, do you have to ruin the mood for everyone?” I stood up briskly and let out a dry laugh. “Then I will just leave.” “I am clearly irrelevant here. I won’t ruin your celebration any longer.” Without another word, I walked out of the restaurant. My fast walk quickly turned into a run. The freezing night wind sliced against my face like actual blades. But this masochistic, physical pain somehow made the suffocating ache in my chest feel a little better. I thought I had run far enough. I finally collapsed by a streetlamp, dry heaving from exhaustion. Then I heard Declan’s voice right behind me. He wasn’t just exceptionally smart. He was athletic, with long, terrifyingly fast strides. He had chased me down while dragging his rolling suitcase, not looking out of breath in the slightest. “Explain yourself. You want to throw us away just because Nancy took your spot?” He reached out to pull me up, but his tone was full of that typical, condescending interrogation. I slapped his hand away and turned my face. “Do you even need to ask? You were the one who dumped me.” Being sick made me disgustingly fragile. The tears just kept coming, no matter how hard I scrubbed my eyes. I rubbed my cheeks until they burned, silently cursing myself for being so pathetic. Suddenly, a warm weight settled against my back. The familiar scent of his clean soap, mixed heavily with expensive liquor, wrapped around me. He pulled me into his chest with one arm, using his free hand to pinch my cheek and shake it lightly. His voice dropped low, his hot breath brushing against my ear. “I’m sorry. You know I only said that because I was angry.” “It was wrong of me to let Nancy replace you. But her family is drowning in debt. She needed this opportunity way more than you did.” “You are completely different. You have endless options. You can just pay out of pocket to study abroad with me, and we can still be partners in the program.” He then pressed a small, red velvet jewelry box into my palm. “An apology gift. Stop being mad at me, okay?” My entire body went rigid. My brain short circuited. A drunk Declan was terrifyingly affectionate. It was overwhelming. He was notoriously rigid. On a normal day, he wouldn’t even hold my hand unless we were hidden on a quiet campus trail. Apologizing while pulling me into a hug? That was unheard of. I stared blankly at the velvet box in my hand. I opened it. When I saw what was resting on the cushion, the tiny bit of hope that had just resurrected plummeted straight down and shattered. 4 The earrings inside were promotional freebies from a niche boutique brand. On my cab ride back this morning, I had scrolled past a massive photo dump on Nancy’s Instagram. In the center photo, she was wearing a thick scarf from this exact same brand, flashing a peace sign at the camera. It was a live photo. The background audio was piercingly clear. “Thank you for the gift, Declan! I promise I’ll keep working hard!” Followed immediately by Declan’s low, soft chuckle. The tiny box in my hand suddenly felt like burning lead. It ground whatever miserable scraps of self esteem I had left into fine dust. I thought about it with deep, pathetic irony. Why did I have to click on her post? If I hadn’t seen that picture, I never would have known the gift he was using to pacify me was literally a piece of trash another girl didn’t want. Wouldn’t it be so nice to just be an ignorant idiot, happily accepting my little prize? This was just sad. I felt like an absolute joke. The corner of my mouth twitched. “Never again,” I whispered. “I’m never doing this again.” I would never shamelessly throw myself at him again. And I sure as hell wasn’t following him across the world. “Hmm?” Declan didn’t catch my whisper. He narrowed his eyes and leaned in closer. A bright, sweet voice shattered the moment. “Um… am I interrupting something?” Nancy was standing there, wrapped up warm in that exact scarf, looking at me with wide, timid eyes. “Declan, I think I left a few things in your suitcase.” Declan nodded casually and unzipped his luggage. She reached right into the inner mesh pocket and pulled out a makeup bag and a box of tampons. I felt like I was nailed to the concrete. I just watched how incredibly natural their routine was. The howling wind sounded like it was laughing at me. It was mocking my entire existence. “Oh, um… Serena, please don’t get the wrong idea. My period started right before the finals, so I had to beg Declan to run to the pharmacy for me. Plus, my suitcase was completely over the weight limit…” Nancy nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, making sure she sounded suitably pitiful. I stared right into her bright, defiant eyes. It was crazy how much things changed. Who would have thought the painfully shy, sunburnt scholarship kid from freshman year would blossom into this confident, manipulative girl? Back then, I genuinely considered Nancy a friend. I was terrified she felt left out, so I constantly dragged her to meals and study sessions. I gave her my clothes, my expensive skincare, everything. I never imagined she would set her sights on Declan, or that she would completely backstab me to steal my competition slot. It felt like I swallowed a handful of crushed glass. I couldn’t cough it up, and I couldn’t force it down. I heard my own voice echoing, hoarse and mocking. “Did the hotel you stayed at not have a front desk? Were there absolutely zero other women in the entire competition circuit?” “You just had to force a guy with a girlfriend to go buy your feminine products? Wow, you and your precious Declan must have a really special bond.” “Serena!” Declan practically roared. “Since when did you become so classless? I just did a favor for a classmate in need. Do you really have to twist it into something so filthy?” “Apologize to Nancy right now!” Nancy’s eyes were already swimming in dramatic tears. “Serena, I know you are still furious that I took your spot.” “But you literally have everything. You don’t need one little competition. Please, can you just forgive me?” Declan gripped her trembling shoulders, his voice instantly softening. “It is not your fault.” Then, he turned his glare back to me, his tone hardening. “Serena. Apologize.” “Why the hell should I?” I raised my voice, my vision blurring with hot, angry tears. Declan didn’t even bother looking at me anymore. He gently guided Nancy to the curb and hailed a cab for her. I didn’t blink. I just watched him display a level of patience he had never, ever shown me. He leaned into the window, softly comforting the sobbing girl. The amber glow of the streetlights caught a warm, genuine smile on his face. I inhaled a lungful of freezing air. The cold sank straight into my bones. It reminded me of the time I had to get emergency appendicitis surgery. My dad was tied up overseas on business and couldn’t make it back in time. I was lying in the hospital, so incredibly lonely. I just wanted to see Declan for five minutes. If he had just held my hand and said a few nice words, the pain wouldn’t have been so bad. But as my boyfriend, his only response was a freezing text. ‘I am busy with finals.’ He couldn’t even be bothered to fake a shred of concern. Seeing him tonight made everything crystal clear. Declan was not a heartless studying machine. He was perfectly capable of loving someone. Being loved gives a person life. But so does the act of loving someone else. The problem was simply that the person bringing Declan to life was not me. It was never me.

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The moment the cameras started rolling for the live broadcast interview, I found myself sitting on stage next to the entertainment industry’s most notorious two-faced starlet. She did not waste a single second. The moment the host gave her the floor, she came at me with guns blazing, declaring to millions of viewers that she was going to expose my lies. She claimed, with absolute certainty, that she was the secret wife of the Oscar-winning A-lister, Cole. The studio audience gasped, and the live stream chat exploded into absolute chaos. A tidal wave of vicious comments flooded the screen behind us. “I knew Bianca was a fraud! She wears matching designer outfits with Cole just to leech off his fame!” “That is what D-list actresses do. If they do not cling to a real star, they fade into nowhere!” “Now the real wife is here to set the record straight. Rip her fake mask off, Kelly!” I sat quietly, watching the malicious comments scrolling across the massive LED screen. I mentally chewed over the situation. Cole? The name sounded incredibly familiar. Right. I remembered now. He was my legally adopted stepson. 1 “Kelly? We are on a live broadcast. You…” The host looked at Kelly with visible panic, entirely unprepared for this off-script ambush. Realizing the main camera was zooming in on her, Kelly’s expression instantly shifted into a picture of pure, heartbreaking victimhood. Her voice trembled perfectly as she cried out. “I know we are live! I just want Bianca to explain herself to the entire country. I want her to explain her disgusting relationship with my husband!” I had been dragged onto this talk show at the very last minute. Facing this sudden, unhinged accusation, my mind briefly went blank. I honestly thought Kelly had just misunderstood something. I figured a simple explanation would clear the air. Before I could even open my mouth, she lunged across the velvet sofa, raised her hand, and slapped me hard across the face. “Bianca! You have been in this industry for years! Have you no shame? How could you try to seduce someone else’s fiancé?!” The stinging impact left my ears ringing. Just as she raised her hand to strike me a second time, my reflexes kicked in. I shoved her back hard. “Are you out of your mind?!” The host scrambled forward, grabbing Kelly by the arm. “Please! We are live! This is a live feed!” Kelly did not care. She pointed a manicured finger at me, tears streaming down her flawless makeup. “I hired private investigators! I have photos of you sneaking out of my husband’s private estate!” “You need to explain yourself right now! What exactly is your relationship with him?!” Seeing her push so aggressively, a heavy knot of irritation formed in my chest. I decided to just tell the absolute truth. “Cole and I have lived together in the same house for years. That is our relationship!” The live studio audience erupted into deafening shrieks. The live chat scrolling on the screen went completely feral. [What the hell?! Didn’t Kelly just say she was the real wife?! How does Bianca have the audacity to claim she lives with a Hollywood A-lister?!] [For years?! Oh my god. Bianca has been playing the innocent girl next door this whole time, but she is actually a shameless homewrecker!] [This show is going down in history! Catching a mistress live on air. This is insane!] Kelly clearly did not expect me to be so brutally honest. Her curated tears fell even faster. “I have endured this in silence for so long. Time and time again, you post photos on your Instagram wearing his exact clothes. You even use his private bedroom as your background! Do you have no dignity?!” I glanced down at the printed screenshots she threw onto the coffee table. The so-called matching designer pieces were actually birthday gifts Cole had bought for me. Even though I was only five years older than him, he never once treated me like a gold digger trying to steal his father’s empire. Years ago, he was mobbed by aggressive paparazzi and nearly shoved into oncoming traffic. I threw myself in front of a speeding car to shield him. Because of that day, he had treated me with nothing but the utmost respect ever since. He was actually the one who begged me to come on this show today. He had told me his fiancée was going to announce their relationship on air. He was terrified his intense fanbase would tear her apart, so he asked me to be there to guide the conversation and protect her. I did not think much of it and agreed to help. I never expected Kelly’s grand plan was to publicly execute me. “I came here today to expose Bianca to the world! She is not the woman in Cole’s life! I am!” “You are just an aging actress trying to climb into a penthouse where you do not belong!” If she genuinely misunderstood my presence in Cole’s life, she could have simply asked him. She could have spoken to me in private. Instead, she chose to physically assault me on national television. A cold anger settled over me. I looked at her with dead, chilling eyes. “You are deeply mistaken. There is nothing inappropriate between Cole and me.” “Furthermore… does Cole even know you are pulling this stunt today?” The air in the studio went dead silent for a full minute. The host immediately muted his microphone and looked frantically at the executive producer standing behind the cameras. Everyone in Hollywood knew Cole was not just a massive box-office draw. The family behind him was the most powerful financial titan in the entertainment industry. Nobody dared to cross them. But seeing the live viewership numbers breaking network records, the director gritted his teeth and aggressively waved his hand, signaling the host to keep the cameras rolling. Kelly froze for a fraction of a second before launching herself at me like a rabid animal. She grabbed a fistful of my hair, screaming shrilly. “So what if he knows?! Do you really think my husband would turn his back on me for a cheap tramp like you?!” She pulled out her phone, aggressively pulling up a leaked video of Cole and me touring a massive luxury estate. She wept hysterically. “In this video, you literally admit that you are the lady of the house! Have you no shame?!” Buying a mansion? Right. That was the custom estate I was planning to give Kelly as a welcoming gift for joining our family. Before I could speak, she twisted her grip and violently threw me off the stage sofa. My body slammed hard onto the polished acrylic floor. The impact knocked the wind out of my lungs. My heart dropped into my stomach. I curled inward, my hands desperately clutching my lower abdomen where a sharp, terrifying pain began to bloom. I turned to the host, my voice tearing through the studio. “I need to stop the broadcast! I am pregnant!” 2 The word paralyzed the entire room. Kelly stared at me in absolute disbelief. “You actually got pregnant with his baby?!” “It was not enough to play the fake wife. Now you are trying to use a bastard child to force your way into his family?! You are utterly repulsive!” The moment the words left her mouth, a furious audience member hurled a heavy plastic water bottle straight at the stage. It smashed directly into my forehead. A wave of intense dizziness washed over me as the crowd began to roar. “Cancel her!” “Exactly! Why is a filthy homewrecker even allowed on television?! Get her out of here!” I curled into a tight ball on the floor, terrified to move a single muscle. This baby was a miracle. My husband, Victor, and I had gone through agonizing rounds of IVF to finally conceive. I could not let anything happen to this child. Cold sweat drenched my face. I gritted my teeth and tried to yell over the noise. “The baby is not Cole’s! Call an ambulance right now!” Kelly looked down at me with pure disgust. She let out a cruel laugh. “They say you are a veteran actress. I have to admit, this is quite a performance!” “Five minutes ago, you bragged about living with him. Now you claim the baby is not his? What, do you have a whole rotation of men you sleep with?!” The live viewership was skyrocketing. The show had just hit the number one trending spot worldwide. That was fine. Victor’s investment firm owned a massive stake in this production company. He would see this. He would be here to save me. I forced myself to look up, glaring at Kelly through the pain. “As far as I know, you and Cole do not even have a marriage license yet. What gives you the right to stand there and lecture me?” My question finally caused a ripple in the live chat. [Wait, she has a point. Even if it is a secret marriage, Kelly is causing a massive scene. Shouldn’t Cole’s PR team be issuing a statement by now?] [The show has been live for an hour. Total silence from Cole’s camp. This is getting weird.] Seeing the comments questioning her authority, Kelly’s face turned beet red. She lifted her chin defensively. “My husband hasn’t responded because he is busy on set!” Ignoring her frantic manager signaling her to stop, she shoved her phone right into the main camera lens, swiping through intimate, highly inappropriate photos of her and Cole. She screamed at the lens. “You want proof?! I have plenty! Open your blind eyes and look!” The photos were incredibly explicit. She was completely destroying Cole’s carefully crafted public image. She crouched down next to me, violently grabbing my jaw. She shoved her left hand in my face, flashing a massive diamond ring. “Do you see this? This is the custom engagement ring my husband gave me! It is one of a kind!” Seeing Kelly dominate the narrative, the host fully took her side. He looked at me like I was a piece of trash. He pretended to step in to mediate, but his words were pure poison. “Bianca, when you first debuted, there were rumors that you were funded by a married billionaire. Would you like to clear the air about that today?” The studio audience went absolutely feral. They started throwing whatever they could find onto the stage. “The host just called her out! It has to be true!” “Get Bianca out of Hollywood! She is disgusting! Blacklist her forever!” I lay helplessly on the cold floor, looking up at Kelly’s victorious, twisted smile. Suddenly, a terrifying warmth spread across my thighs. Total panic seized my chest. I screamed with everything I had left. “I am telling you for the last time! Call an ambulance!” The host ignored my plea. He offered a condescending smirk. “We are on a live broadcast. If you just run away, who is going to take responsibility for the dead air?” “Do you have any idea how much the breach of contract penalty is for this network?” With the host backing her up, Kelly’s arrogance reached its peak. “There are plenty of women in Hollywood trying to make a quick buck. But women like you, who specialize in destroying other women’s lives, are the lowest of the low.” “I have waited a long time for this day. I want the whole world to see exactly what kind of monster you are!” My chest felt incredibly tight. I could barely breathe. I glared past the lights, locking eyes with the director in the shadows. I forced the words through my teeth. “If I lose the baby in my stomach, I promise you, this entire network will burn to the ground.” The director’s face drained of color. He did not dare take that gamble. He hesitated, then spoke into his headset, his voice echoing through the studio monitors. “Let us do this. It takes time for paramedics to arrive. Why don’t we get Cole on a live phone call right now? Let the audience hear the truth from him directly.” Kelly’s eyes lit up with malicious glee. “Perfect! My husband hates seeing me upset!” “I want Bianca to hear exactly what it sounds like when a man throws her away!”

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1 I’ll never forget that absurd night. I was young, naive, and buzzing with a restless energy back then. My boss, Alan Treadwell, had been drugged at a company event, his mind a haze. As his assistant, I made a terrible mistake, and we ended up… together. Afterward, I was terrified. I snuck away, thinking no one would ever know. Alan went ballistic, tearing the company apart trying to find the culprit, but he never traced it back to me. I secretly congratulated myself for hiding so well. Days turned into weeks, and I slowly pushed the whole incident out of my mind. But then, just a few months later, my body started to change. My belly began to swell. … “Still no sign of them, Morgan?” Alan Treadwell leaned back in his office chair, crossing one leg over the other, his face a thundercloud. I nervously reported, “Mr. Treadwell, still no leads. The person was highly cautious, avoiding all surveillance.” Alan pulled out a lighter and lit a cigarette. “I’m giving you three more days. If you still haven’t found them, don’t bother showing up for work.” I nodded frantically. “Understood, Mr. Treadwell.” As I turned to leave, I bravely asked, “Mr. Treadwell, if you find them, what do you plan to do?” He flicked his ash, narrowing his eyes. “Dare to climb into my bed, and I’ll make sure they vanish without a trace.” I swallowed hard. Walking out of his office, a chill ran down my spine. Back at my desk, I found a cushion for my chair. Slowly, carefully, I sat down, then reached up to rub my aching lower back. Damn it! Oh, how I regretted it. How could I have fallen for Alan’s charm? Why didn’t I push his hand away when it brushed my waist? A night of pleasure, a lifetime of trouble. Two nights ago, I’d accompanied Alan to a corporate mixer. It was a chaotic affair, and somehow, he ended up ingesting something illicit. As I helped him back to his suite, the drug started to kick in. I was reaching for my phone to call for help when I felt a warm hand on my waist. “Morgan, you always look good in a suit.” “Your waist… it’s so slender.” “And your backside… very nice.” Alan was burning up. In a few quick movements, he shed his suit jacket. Beneath his white shirt, muscles rippled, threatening to burst through the fabric. Such beauty, it was hard to resist. I didn’t run. In a daze, I found myself tangled with Alan. We burned through half the night like wildfire. It wasn’t until every inch of my body ached that I fully sobered up. Damn it! What had I done? While Alan was still deep in sleep, I hastily dressed and fled the scene. 2 By morning, Alan had called an emergency meeting. He furiously demanded that the person who’d been in his bed be found. I tentatively asked, “Mr. Treadwell, was it a man or a woman?” Alan snapped, “A woman.” A few seconds later, he corrected himself, “It was a man.” The surveillance manager’s face went ashen, and he shot me a helpless look. Internally, I was thanking my lucky stars. Alan not only didn’t know it was me, but he also hadn’t discovered my secret of being intersex. I cautiously asked, “Mr. Treadwell, can we confirm the gender? It would make the search easier.” Alan scowled. “Man or woman, I want them found.” That same afternoon, the person who’d drugged him was found. It was an old rival of Alan’s. Alan ground the man’s hand under his heel, eliciting a guttural scream. I sat there on pins and needles, silently praying: Please, don’t let Alan ever find out it was me that night. Now, Alan had given me only three days. If I failed again, I was out of a job. Between a mysterious, gruesome death and losing my job, I’d obviously choose the latter. These past few days, the entire executive office had been shrouded in a dark cloud. Alan was in a foul mood, lashing out at anyone for the slightest misstep. Colleagues walked on eggshells. I began preparing my work handover. When the three days were up, I submitted my resignation to Alan. “Mr. Treadwell, I apologize. I failed to complete the task you assigned.” He took the resignation letter, pondered for a moment, then finally tore it up, annoyance etched on his face. “Forget it.” “They were too cunning. You’ve worked hard these past few days. Take two days off.” Holy cow! Not only did I keep my job, but I also got two days off. A silver lining indeed! My smile was practically splitting my face. “Thank you, Mr. Treadwell!” Alan’s gaze lingered on me for a long moment, his eyes complex. “Morgan, was it really not you who brought me back to my room that night? I remember…” He trailed off mid-sentence. I quickly replied, “No, it really wasn’t me. I had too much to drink that night too. It was hotel staff who helped you back. You probably just dreamed of me, Mr. Treadwell.” I added playfully, “How honored I am to appear in your dreams.” Alan’s expression immediately turned peculiar. He cleared his throat and waved his hand. “Alright, you’re dismissed.” 3 Two months passed uneventfully. Until, that is, I once again found myself excusing myself to the restroom to throw up during a meeting with Alan. Alan finished signing, handed me the documents, and in a rare moment of concern, said, “If you’re not feeling well, go to the doctor. Don’t push yourself.” “You don’t need to come in this afternoon.” I took my paid leave and went to the hospital for a check-up. I’d been experiencing persistent nausea and loss of appetite, so I figured it was a stomach issue. To my utter shock, the doctor delivered news that made my jaw drop. “Congratulations, you’re pregnant.” Damn it! One shot, and I hit the jackpot? Should I be praising Alan or myself? I walked out of the doctor’s office, my steps unsteady. Abortion? I hesitated. Because of my unique biological makeup, I was an abandoned child. I grew up in an orphanage and received sponsorship throughout my education. Since starting work, I’d accumulated some savings. Many times, I’d considered having a child of my own. I’d even consulted a sperm bank. But I never acted on it. Now, by a twist of fate… Alan was handsome, rich, brilliant, and highly educated. You probably couldn’t find his kind even in a sperm bank. I didn’t hesitate much before deciding to keep the baby. I immediately thought about resigning. The secret of that night would eventually come out. For instance, Alan’s gaze had grown increasingly strange lately. He kept asking me odd questions. “Morgan, do you have a mole on your lower back?” I quickly denied it. If he found out I was pregnant, he’d eventually connect the dots. In his office, Alan frowned, looking at my resignation letter. “Too busy lately?” “Perhaps I should hire another assistant, and give you a raise while I’m at it.” Holy hell! So tempting. Typical capitalist, only offering these things when I’m trying to quit? I tearfully declined. “Mr. Treadwell, you’re great, but I want a change of pace.” Alan hesitated for a long time before signing the resignation letter. He handed it back to me, his gaze sincere: “Treadwell Enterprises will always welcome you back.” 4 Opening the door after work, a little bundle of joy, a tiny human, launched itself at me. His voice, soft and sweet, chimed, “Daddy!” “I haven’t seen you in nine hours, and I missed you so, so much.” I quickly knelt, catching him in my arms, and peppered his chubby cheeks with kisses. “Daddy missed you too, Finn.” Four years after resigning, I moved to a different city. I found a new job. Here, I rented an apartment and hired a nanny to look after Finn Morgan. Life was peaceful and happy. “Daddy, today Ms. Wendy took me out to play, and Lily and Rose fought over who got to hold my hand.” I chuckled, listening to him. Gazing at my son’s adorable, handsome face, I couldn’t help but marvel at the power of genetics. His looks were undeniable; he could easily be a child model. And in other ways, he perfectly inherited the best of both Alan and me. His intelligence had been astounding since he was small. He walked and talked earlier than other kids his age. Now, at only three, he already recognized many letters and numbers. Basic math was a breeze, and he was even learning English from TV. Just as I was swelling with pride, Finn suddenly blurted out, “Daddy, I need to check the cards!” “Shine my shoes!” My eyes rolled back, and a headache bloomed. This kid, he just couldn’t handle a compliment. “Who taught you that?” Finn blinked. “Jake and the others were all saying it.” No sooner had he spoken than he gave me the middle finger. “Daddy, this is a gesture I learned today. What does it mean?” I pulled him onto my lap, my voice serious. “Finn, you can’t make that gesture anymore. It means disrespect.” Finn nestled into my arms and nodded. “Daddy, I know. Don’t be mad.” I said gently, “Daddy’s not mad.” A child’s environment is crucial. I’d rented this place because it was close to work and affordable. Now, Finn was nearing school age. I planned to buy a house in a better neighborhood. The next morning, I awoke to Finn’s little foot, draped over me, burning hot. My heart clenched as I quickly felt his forehead. A high fever. I rushed him to the emergency room for IV fluids. Afterward, Finn’s spirits lifted considerably. When we left the hospital, he walked on his own, holding my hand, no longer needing to be carried. “Watch out, don’t bump into anyone.” No sooner had I spoken than Finn collided with someone’s leg. I was about to apologize when I recognized the person. It was Alan Treadwell. He wore a long trench coat, and the familiar scent of his old cologne wafted from him. What was this? Four years later, he seemed even more handsome. 5 Finn looked up, politely saying, “Excuse me, sir.” Alan looked at me, then at Finn. “Morgan, long time no see.” He glanced at Finn, a question in his eyes. “Is this yours?” I smiled. “Mr. Treadwell, this is my son. He had a fever this morning, so I brought him to the hospital for an IV.” Alan’s brows furrowed, an incredulous expression on his face. “You’re married?” I awkwardly nodded. I was about to ask him why he was at the hospital when a little girl came up behind him. “I told you to slow down!” The girl, held by a woman who seemed to be her nanny, curiously looked at Finn and me. Alan knelt, scooping up the little girl. “Not everyone has short legs like you, you know.” The girl pouted, sticking her tongue out at him. Alan chuckled, dotingly smoothing her hair. He then introduced her to me. “This is my little niece. I brought her for a follow-up.” The girl smiled at me, revealing two adorable dimples. “Hello, sir.” Alan and I didn’t chat for long before parting ways. Remembering the gentle, doting expression on his face when he spoke to the little girl, I realized it was the first time I’d ever seen that side of him. He’d probably be even softer with his own child someday. I pushed away the strange feeling stirring inside me and led Finn to the parking lot. Finn, in the back seat, craned his neck to ask, “Daddy, was that man your friend? I’ve never seen him before.” “He was my old boss.” Finn nodded. “Oh. He’s really handsome.” I laughed. “Well, who’s more handsome, Daddy or him?” Without a moment’s hesitation, he declared loudly, “Daddy! Daddy’s the most handsome in the whole world!” I couldn’t stop smiling. My chance encounter with Alan at the hospital didn’t give me any sense of alarm. After all, four years had passed. Alan surely wasn’t pursuing the matter anymore. A man couldn’t get pregnant, so he’d never suspect Finn was his. 6 I took two days off to care for Finn. When I returned to the office, a colleague sidled up to me, whispering that things had changed. The company had been acquired. A new CEO from headquarters would be coming in to temporarily manage the company. I didn’t feel much about it; there had been rumors of this for a while. As long as my salary didn’t decrease, I was fine. Then, I saw Alan Treadwell walk into the conference room, impeccably dressed in a suit. Damn it! Now I felt something. What kind of bizarre cosmic connection was this? Alan’s meeting was as concise and efficient as ever. But when his gaze swept over me, a clear flash of surprise appeared in his eyes. After the meeting, his assistant, Lin – my former colleague – called me into the CEO’s office. Alan looked at me, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Morgan, what a coincidence. We’re working together again.” I replied, “Mr. Treadwell, what incredible serendipity. I can’t believe I’m still working at Treadwell Enterprises after all this time.” Alan said, “In that case, you can be my executive assistant again. You’re already familiar with the business here.” I remained silent. Alan raised an eyebrow. “Not willing?” Of course, I wasn’t. The more I interacted with him, the greater the risk of my secret being exposed. He added, “I’ll give you a raise.” “I’m in!” Alan let out an exasperated chuckle. After I left his office, Lin excitedly told me, “Oh my gosh, Morgan, I can’t believe we’re reunited!” She whispered a complaint, “Ever since you left, Mr. Treadwell has been so moody, always getting inexplicably angry. He’s called me ‘Morgan, assistant’ so many times!” “This is great! You’re his assistant again. I finally won’t have to walk on eggshells.” I forced a dry laugh. It seemed I’d been such a dedicated worker that my boss couldn’t forget me. A new CEO meant a celebratory dinner. During the meal, I stepped outside to take a video call from Finn. “Daddy, when are you coming home? I want you to tuck me in.” I promised him, “Daddy will definitely be home before you go to sleep.” Finn’s gaze suddenly shifted behind me, and he excitedly exclaimed, “Wow, it’s the handsome man from the hospital!” I turned to see Alan Treadwell standing behind me. I hadn’t noticed him approach. He offered Finn a gentle smile. “Hello, little one.” Alan’s voice was warm and deep. The words “little one” were soft and low. I saw Finn in the video blush, uncharacteristically shy, and hide behind the sofa cushion. Tsk, such a little heartthrob.

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When I opened my eyes, I found myself back on the day my adopted sister bought her first Hermès bag. My sister Kiki had somehow bound herself to a parasitic wealth-transfer glitch—every penny she spent online was automatically taken from our mother’s retirement account. In my past life, she used this to build a lavish lifestyle and became a famous influencer, while I, left managing Mom’s finances, fell into crippling debt. When I showed my family the truth, they accused me of jealousy and theft, choosing to believe Kiki’s story that a secret billionaire was funding her luxury. In the end, she lived in fame and fortune, while I was doxxed, canceled, and finally pushed in front of a subway train by her enraged fans. Now, back at that moment in the boutique, I pushed past her and laid our mother’s debit card on the counter before she could speak. “I’ll take this bag,” I said calmly, a cold smile touching my lips. This time, I would rewrite everything. 1 It was that time of the month again to reconcile Mom’s retirement account. Staring at the $15,000 monthly expense on the screen, I fell completely silent. Even though I had been reborn, the automatic deduction glitch still existed. Six months. For six entire months, massive amounts of cash had been bleeding out of Mom’s savings. The safety net she had worked her entire life to build was evaporating into thin air. With trembling fingers, I tapped into the current month’s transaction history. Aside from a few minor pharmacy and grocery runs, there were three massive, unexplained charges. The recipient for all of them was just a string of scrambled alphanumeric code. I took screenshots and sent them to the bank’s online fraud department, stating clearly that these purchases were unauthorized. The automated response came back instantly. [These are pre-authorized automated deductions. No anomalies detected.] I immediately switched apps and opened Instagram. Kiki had just posted a new story. Her grid was an endless parade of diamonds, champagne, and high-end aesthetics. I scrolled meticulously through every single post, searching for the breadcrumbs. Finally, I found it. On July 15th, she posted a close-up of a sparkling sapphire necklace with the caption. [Thanks to my perfect guy for the birthday surprise! I deserve the absolute best!] I did not care about the clarity of the stones. I only cared that the retail price of that specific piece was exactly $5,800. And on that exact day, Mom’s account had a mysterious deduction of $5,800. It wasn’t a coincidence. On July 10th, she posted a mirror selfie showing off the newest custom smartphone, retailing at $2,500. That matched the exact missing amount on the 10th. I took screenshot after screenshot, building my arsenal of receipts. Almost every single massive deduction perfectly aligned with her latest luxury flex online. “Harper! Get out here and eat! Do we really have to beg you to join the family every single night?!” My dad’s booming voice snapped me out of my trance. I dragged my feet into the dining room. Mom was busy placing the best cut of roast beef directly onto Kiki’s plate, her face glowing with unapologetic favoritism. “Eat up, sweetie. You are looking so thin lately.” Kiki was practically radiating smugness today. She twirled her wrist, letting the dining room lights catch the heavy, solid gold Cartier bracelet she was wearing. “Look, Mom! Do you like my new bracelet? It is custom heavy gold!” “Did your… your special guy get that for you?” Mom took the bait instantly, putting down her fork to admire the jewelry. “Yeah! It was almost five grand!” Kiki nodded enthusiastically, a perfectly rehearsed blush creeping up her cheeks. “He told me that ever since he met me, his investments have skyrocketed. He says spoiling his princess is his good luck charm, so he is going to keep buying me nice things.” I let out a harsh, dry laugh. That wasn’t some billionaire spoiling his princess. That was a parasite sucking her mother dry. Mom’s eyes crinkled with pure joy. She reached out and pinched Kiki’s cheek affectionately. “Oh, my precious girl! You are so blessed! A man like that is one in a million. You hold onto him tight!” She spoke as if Kiki had just won the absolute lottery. Suddenly, as if remembering something, I pulled out my phone and checked the banking app. Sure enough, exactly one minute ago, Mom’s account had been drained of $4,800. I slammed my phone face-up on the dining table. “Kiki, did your imaginary billionaire buy that bracelet, or did you just swipe Mom’s card?” She froze for a split second, but her eyes immediately welled up with practiced tears. “Dad! Mom! Look at Harper! She is so jealous that I have a rich guy chasing me, she is trying to blame her own theft on me! She is the one stealing your retirement money!” “Harper!” My dad erupted. He grabbed my phone off the table and hurled it violently onto the hardwood floor. “You vicious little snake! You scheme to drain your own mother’s life savings, and now you want to drag your sister’s reputation through the mud?! What is wrong with you?!” After a relentless screaming match, my parents locked me inside my bedroom. This could not go on. Mom’s retirement fund was not a bottomless pit. Kiki was going to bleed us entirely dry. Before the sun even fully rose the next morning, I climbed out my ground-floor window and marched straight to the bank. “Hi, I need to report a debit card as lost and freeze the account.” After filling out the paperwork, I casually walked back home, even stopping to buy myself an iced coffee. The moment I stepped through the front door, I was met with the sound of Kiki bawling her eyes out in Mom’s arms. “Mom! It is ruined! The black card my guy gave me is suddenly declining! I know Harper did this!” “She accused me yesterday, and today my card is locked! Mom, you have to do something!” Mom’s face morphed into a scowl the second she saw me. She pulled Kiki tighter against her chest, rubbing her back soothingly. “Shh, sweetie, don’t cry.” She shot daggers at me. “Harper, is this your doing?! Can you really not stand seeing your sister happy?!” “She is just an adopted child who finally found a good man who can take care of her. Instead of being happy for her, you are actively trying to sabotage her relationship?!” Mom demanded I hand over her physical retirement card so she could give it to Kiki as a temporary fix. My dad sat in the armchair, his face dark as thunder, looking like he wanted to rip my head off. But Kiki… she lifted her face from Mom’s shoulder, and right where our parents could not see, she flashed me a sickening, victorious smirk. She knew exactly what she was doing. She definitely knew I had frozen the card, which stopped her glitch from pulling the funds! I muttered some excuse about calling the bank to sort it out and stepped outside to undo the freeze. Minutes later, Kiki gleefully announced her “guy’s card” was miraculously working again and she was going shopping. I set my jaw and followed her right out the door. The moment we walked into the Hermès boutique, she made a beeline for the display and pointed at a pristine Picotin bucket bag. “Could you bring this out for me to tr—” “I will take the bag!” I lunged in front of her, slapping my own debit card onto the polished glass counter. Kiki’s jaw dropped. She glared at me. “Harper! What is your problem? You are trying to outbid me? With what money, you broke loser?” “Whether I have the money or not is between me and the card reader, isn’t it?” I did not even look at her, keeping my eyes locked on the sales associate. “Ring it up. Run the card. Right now.” “Fine! You have some nerve, Harper. You are going to regret this!” Kiki stomped her designer heels and stormed out of the boutique. I aggressively signed the receipt, snapped a picture of the bag, and immediately posted it to my Instagram story. Then, I glued my eyes to the banking app on my phone. It wasn’t going to deduct from Mom’s account, right? I refreshed the screen over and over. Finally, the notification popped up. [Hermès Boutique Purchase: $9,500.] How could this be? I stood in the middle of the store, completely paralyzed. The wildly expensive leather bag in my hands suddenly felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. The system only worked one way! As long as Kiki made the purchase and posted a photo flexing it online, the glitch would drain the exact amount from Mom’s account to cover her tracks! 2 I stumbled home and collapsed onto my mattress. Opening TikTok, I saw Kiki had just launched a brand new public account. Her very first video was live. In the frame, she was wearing a cute tweed matching set, leaning against the hood of a brand new, gleaming white Porsche. She smiled coyly at the camera. “Ugh, taking the subway to work was getting so exhausting. Thank God my amazing guy surprised me with this little runaround car today.” “He told me his princess deserves nothing but the best!” The video had barely been up for ten minutes, but the comment section was already exploding. [A Porsche just for running errands?! What kind of fairy tale romance is this?!] [Is your man a walking ATM?! I am so jealous!] Kiki’s follower count was climbing like a rocket, smashing past fifty thousand in minutes. My hands shook uncontrollably as I opened the banking app. The newest transaction: $30,000. It had cleared exactly one minute after she posted the video. I kicked Kiki’s bedroom door open and tore through her desk drawers until I found a sleek leather folder. Inside was the vehicle purchase agreement. The down payment was exactly thirty thousand dollars. The signature on the dotted line belonged to Kiki, and it was dated today. I sprinted into the living room. “Dad, look at this!” I slammed the stack of contracts onto the coffee table right in front of him. “Kiki’s new car wasn’t a gift from some billionaire!” “That thirty grand down payment was siphoned directly out of Mom’s retirement fund! This is the hard proof!” My dad casually picked up the contract, his eyes scanning the ink. A second later, he ripped the papers straight down the middle. “Harper, are you mentally ill? You are even jealous of a car her boyfriend bought her?” “You are her older sister! How could you forge this kind of disgusting lie just to tear her down? I do not know how I raised such a toxic, bitter child!” That night, Kiki went live on TikTok. She looked absolutely heartbroken on camera. “Hey guys… I am just having a really rough night. My sister… sigh.” “I think she just resents that I am doing well. She is telling everyone my boyfriend doesn’t even exist.” Kiki paused, her timing absolutely impeccable. She reached off-camera and pulled a velvet box into the frame, popping it open. Inside sat a breathtaking Patek Philippe watch. “My guy gave this to me today. He said it holds its value perfectly, and I can keep it as part of my future dowry.” “He treats me so incredibly well… I just don’t understand why my sister refuses to believe me…” Under Kiki’s subtle manipulation, the internet quickly painted me as the ultimate evil, jealous older sibling. The next morning, the second I opened the front door to leave for work, a bucket of blood-red paint splashed across my chest. “Harper! You bloodsucking leech!” Before I could even process what happened, rotting vegetables and sharp pebbles rained down on me from the sidewalk. “Get out of our neighborhood! You are a stain on this community!” “You heartless psycho!” The furious screams of my neighbors drowned out my own heartbeat. Faces I had known for years—people who used to be kind and normal—were now twisted into masks of vicious, self-righteous rage. I threw my arms up, desperately dodging the garbage, running for my life down the street. What could I do? What options did I even have left? I blindly stumbled into a public park restroom, locking myself in a stall, too terrified to breathe. I didn’t dare step outside until the sun went down. I snuck back into the house like a criminal. But the living room was lit up like a Christmas tree. Aunt Susan, Uncle Robert, and a handful of other relatives were crammed onto the sofas. The coffee table was littered with sunflower seed shells and fruit peels. Mom was sitting right next to Kiki, lovingly peeling an orange and feeding her the slices. Kiki was dressed in a brand new Chanel skirt suit, dangling a pair of crystal-encrusted stilettos from her toes, soaking up the attention like royalty. “Oh, you are finally back?” Kiki dramatically pinched her nose, shrinking away and burying her face in Mom’s shoulder. “Ugh, Harper, what is that smell?! Go take a shower, you are stinking up the whole house.” The relatives, clearly fully briefed on the narrative, immediately started lecturing me. “Harper, I am just going to be honest with you. As the older sister, you need to be more open-minded.” “Your jealousy is completely out of control. Kiki is successful and found a wealthy man to take care of her. Shouldn’t we be celebrating that?” I had spent the entire day hiding in a filthy public bathroom, and now I had to sit through a family tribunal? Something inside me snapped. I walked into my room, grabbed the thick folder of financial evidence I had compiled, and slammed it down in the middle of the coffee table. “Every single luxury item Kiki has bought over the last few months matches an exact withdrawal from Mom’s retirement account! The proof is right here!” Dead silence. Aunt Susan and Uncle Robert darted their eyes nervously between me and Kiki. The smile froze on Mom’s face. Kiki shot up off the couch like a rocket, shoving her phone screen directly into my face. “How can you keep slandering me like this?! Look! All of these are wire transfers directly from my boyfriend!” On her screen were incredibly convincing, flawlessly forged bank transfer receipts. “Those are fake! You photoshopped them!” I lunged forward to grab the phone. “Enough!” My dad roared, standing up so fast his chair tipped over. He pointed a thick finger right between my eyes. “Harper, can you not stand to see this family have a single moment of peace?! Are you absolutely determined to destroy your sister’s reputation and tear this family apart?!” The relatives’ expressions instantly shifted. They looked at me like I was a piece of trash stuck to the bottom of their shoes. Mom gasped for air, clutching her chest before her eyes rolled back and she collapsed limply onto the sofa. Total chaos erupted. People were screaming, searching for her blood pressure pills, fanning her face. I stood frozen in the center of the room, painted as the ultimate villain. Kiki played the devoted daughter, staying by Mom’s bedside for days until she finally recovered. During that week, no new deductions hit the bank account. But I noticed Kiki kept hovering around my bedroom door, looking for excuses to peek inside. She suspected something. Did I have a blind spot? Was there a secret hiding in my own room? When the house was finally empty, I turned my room upside down. My bedroom used to be an old storage closet. It was still filled with boxes of my grandfather’s dusty antiques and obscure occult journals. I flipped through the rotting pages one by one, and incredibly, I struck gold. I finally understood exactly how to destroy Kiki’s parasitic wealth system!

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