Category: English

I gasped, my body convulsing in agonizing pain on the cold floor. I begged and cried, pleading with my own sister to stop, but all I got in return was her freezing, disgusted glare. “Jonah has a weak heart,” Evelyn snapped, her voice devoid of any warmth. “As his brother, what’s wrong with giving him yours? It’s just a simple heart transfer.” She locked me in the dark basement, completely indifferent to my agony. She turned around and showered Jonah with the utmost tenderness and care. “Are you feeling better, Jonah? If that useless trash’s heart doesn’t suit you, don’t worry. I will find you a better one.” I was locked in that pitch-black room, bleeding from my eyes, nose, and mouth, falling into utter despair. A month later, Evelyn finally remembered me. “Now that Jonah is fully recovered, drag your useless body out of there,” she muttered coldly to the empty hallway. She had no idea. I didn’t survive her cruel ritual. I had died in that dark room weeks ago, and my body was already rotting away.

Evelyn carefully fed Jonah chicken soup, spoon by spoon, her face filled with deep, maternal concern. “Jonah, how is your body recovering?” she asked softly. “If Cole’s heart feels uncomfortable in your chest, just tell me. I’ll find you another matching donor.” Hearing this, Jonah looked deeply moved, his eyes glistening with tears. “Evelyn, you are so good to me.” But as he spoke, a flash of mockery crossed his eyes. He lowered his head, pretending to hesitate. “But… after the ritual, Cole hasn’t come home for a month. Is he angry with me?” “If he’s mad, maybe I should give his heart back. I don’t mind the pain. I don’t want to ruin your relationship with him.” Evelyn’s heart ached for him, and she immediately pulled him into a comforting embrace. “Don’t worry about that ungrateful trash. He does this every single time. He throws a tantrum, runs away from home to threaten me, and eventually crawls back on his knees to beg for my forgiveness.” “This is just his pathetic way of trying to get my attention.” I hadn’t actually left. I was standing right beside them, but they couldn’t see me. If this had happened in the past, I would have gone mad, desperately trying to pull my sister away from Jonah. Jonah had stolen the love that rightfully belonged to me. Evelyn was my only remaining family, and I couldn’t bear the thought of losing her. And because of that jealousy, I used to get screamed at by Evelyn every time I tried to interfere. But now, as I stood right in front of them, I felt nothing. I was completely numb. Because my heart was gone, and I was dead. After the Heart Transfer Ritual, the violent organ rejection had tortured me to death. After my physical death, my soul had detached from my body. With a gaping, hollow hole in my chest, my spirit was bound to Evelyn, forced to watch her every move. Just then, Thomas, our old family butler, walked in with trembling steps. “Lady Evelyn, about Master Cole…” Evelyn frowned, her face darkening with annoyance. “What about him? Didn’t I tell you? I don’t care about anything regarding Cole anymore.” “Running away for a whole month over a petty fight. How childish. When will he ever grow up and be as mature as Jonah?” Thomas kept his head low, his voice shaking. “My Lady… Master Cole didn’t run away. He… he has been locked in his room for a month. No food, no water.” Hearing this, Evelyn’s frown deepened. Seeing her reaction, Jonah quickly chimed in, putting on a guilty face. “Evelyn, Cole must be really angry. Maybe I should go and apologize to him in person.” “After all, I’m just an outsider. I can’t let myself cause a rift between you two.” Evelyn immediately snapped at the butler, “Don’t bother with him. No food or water for a month? He’d be dead by now if he was actually fasting. Does he really think this cheap trick will make me worry about him?” She sneered, her voice icy. “What a pathetic drama queen. If he loves pretending to be dead so much, let him starve.” Thomas’s face went pale. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but stopped. Seeing his hesitation, Evelyn’s expression hardened. “Fine. If you’re that worried, I’ll go check on him myself later.” “But only on one condition: once he apologizes to Jonah and promises never to bully him again, I will let him out of that room.” Hearing her words, a phantom pain shot through my hollow chest, as if someone had poured crushed glass into my empty ribcage. I instinctively clutched my chest. My heart was currently beating inside Jonah’s chest, yet she wanted *me* to apologize to *him*? In the past, Jonah was always the one who set me up, but Evelyn never believed me. She was my biological sister, yet she treated me with nothing but cruelty. I still remembered the day of the ritual. Lying on the cold floor of the basement, I had cried and screamed, telling her how much it hurt. But she had looked down at me with pure disgust. “This little pain is nothing compared to what Jonah suffered,” she had said coldly. “You triggered Jonah’s heart attack. If I don’t teach you a lesson and make you feel his pain, I don’t deserve to be your older sister!” I had begged and apologized frantically, even though Jonah had faked the whole thing. I apologized because the pain of having my chest ripped open was too much to bear. I just wanted my heart back. But Evelyn didn’t care. She had ordered Thomas to lock me in the dark room. “If you learn how to behave and show Jonah some respect, I might consider finding you a healthy donor heart in the future.” She had slammed the door, leaving me in the dark. And in that darkness, my soul had withered away, and I died in absolute silence.

“You may leave now, Thomas,” Evelyn commanded the butler. “Later, go unlock his door and tell him to come straight to Jonah to apologize. If he refuses, I’ll lock him up for another three months.” “Pretending to go on a hunger strike… how pathetic. Anyone with a shred of maturity wouldn’t resort to such childish tactics.” Thomas opened his mouth, wanting to speak, but Evelyn waved her hand impatiently, dismissing him. Jonah smirked slightly when Evelyn wasn’t looking, then put on a fake worried face. “Evelyn, once Cole apologizes, please forgive him. After all, he’s your only blood relative. What if he really runs away for good this time…?” Before he could finish, Evelyn scoffed. “I’d be thrilled if he did. A useless, malicious parasite like Cole doesn’t deserve to be my brother anyway.” “If he hadn’t stolen the gift you made for me, your heart wouldn’t have failed in the first place.” With that, she gently hugged Jonah, her eyes filled with tenderness. Watching this, a bitter smile crept onto my face. Even without a heart, why did my soul still feel this stinging pain? The “gift” Evelyn claimed I stole was actually a Siren’s Wax Candle. I had spent an entire month crafting it by hand. Burning a Siren’s Wax Candle could protect a spellcaster’s spiritual aura during high-level rituals. I knew Evelyn worked late nights casting spells, so I wanted to make this for her. I had stayed up for weeks, burning my fingers so badly that my skin was peeling off. But Jonah had found it and tried to snatch it away from me. During our argument, Evelyn had walked in. Jonah had immediately dropped to the floor, clutching his chest and panting dramatically. “I know I’m just an adopted brother, Cole. I know you hate me. But I worked so hard to make this candle for Evelyn.” “I saw her working in the dark every night, and I just wanted to give her some light. Why did you have to take it from me?” He looked up at Evelyn with tear-filled eyes. “My chest hurts so much… I think my heart is failing again. Evelyn, please take care of yourself if I don’t make it.” His acting was flawless. Evelyn didn’t hesitate. She slapped me across the face so hard my lip split, then rushed to cradle Jonah in her arms. “Jonah, hold on! Please don’t leave me! I can’t live without you!” I had tried to explain. But Evelyn cast a silencing spell on me, locking my jaw so I couldn’t utter a single sound. As the head of the Vance Coven, Evelyn was highly skilled in the mystic arts and healing. If she had bothered to check Jonah’s pulse for even a second, she would have known he was faking it. But she was so blinded by her favoritism that she didn’t even give me a chance to speak. And when she coldly carved open my chest using our family’s forbidden magic, I finally understood. She wasn’t just biased. I simply didn’t matter to her at all. Jonah was her true brother; I was nothing. “Cole, is this how you treat Jonah when I’m not around? Stealing his gift and causing his heart attack?” “Fine. Since you love hurting him, I’ll give him your heart. Let’s see how you like living with a broken chest!” To avenge Jonah, she performed the forbidden Heart Transfer Ritual, swapping my healthy heart into Jonah’s chest. Then, she threw me into the dark basement. A month had passed since then. Only now did she think of letting me out. But the only thing waiting for her in that room was my decomposing corpse. Thomas returned, cold sweat dripping down his forehead, his face pale as a ghost. “My Lady… I went to deliver your message to Master Cole. He… he didn’t answer. I opened the door slightly, and… and a horrible smell came out.” “It smelled like… like a decaying corpse!” I looked at Evelyn, curious to see her reaction to the news of my death. To my surprise, she laughed. It was a cold, amused sound. “A decaying corpse? What kind of game is Cole playing now? Is he pretending to be dead just to see if I’ll cry for him?” “Since he loves playing dead so much, tell the staff to lock up all the food. No one is allowed to give him a single crumb. Let’s see how long he can keep up this act.” I laughed silently, a bitter, hollow sound. In the past, she had used all kinds of cruel punishments to force me to bow down and apologize to Jonah. I had long become numb to it. But this time, she wouldn’t get what she wanted. Because my body had already been half-eaten by the rats and insects in that dark room. Thomas stood frozen, cold sweat pouring down his face. “My Lady…” Evelyn’s patience finally snapped. “What are you still standing there for?” “Are you disobeying my orders now?” Thomas clenched his fists, his voice trembling. “My Lady, I truly believe something has happened to Master Cole!” “Please… just go and see for yourself!” Evelyn lost the last of her patience. “How much did Cole pay you to put on this ridiculous show with him?” “I need to spend time with Jonah. Tell Cole to get his pathetic self over here and apologize right now, or he will regret it!” Jonah hid a smirk behind his hand, pretending to be worried. “Evelyn, what if Cole really did get hurt?” Evelyn scoffed. “Then good. At least I’ll only have one brother to worry about from now on.” Hearing this, I clutched my empty chest as phantom tears poured from my eyes. The pain of having my heart ripped out returned, sharper than ever.

The Vance family was an ancient coven of powerful mystic spellcasters. For generations, many dark covens had eyed our secret spellbooks. Our parents had died in a brutal magical war when we were young. Evelyn had fled with me and our family’s ancient grimoires, running for our lives. She practiced magic day and night while raising me. Eventually, we both mastered the mystic arts. Evelyn avenged our parents, and we rebuilt the Vance family name to its former glory. That year, Evelyn was eighteen and I was sixteen. We were hailed as the twin prodigies of the magic world. But everything changed when I suffered a severe magical backlash while practicing a high-level forbidden spell. My magical core was shattered, and all my power was completely drained. At first, Evelyn wept, holding my hand and whispering, “As long as you’re alive, Cole. I will carry the Vance family name for both of us.” But as time went on and my attempts to rebuild my magical core failed repeatedly, Evelyn grew cold. The warmth and affection in her eyes when she looked at me slowly vanished. I tried desperately to please her, doing whatever chores and favors I could, but she remained completely indifferent. Then, one day, she brought Jonah home, announcing that he was now our brother. To make Evelyn happy, I treated Jonah like a real brother. But Jonah saw me as an obstacle. He constantly provoked me in secret, then ran to Evelyn crying, making himself look like the victim. Evelyn grew more and more disappointed in me, distancing herself further each day. Jonah replaced me. He became Evelyn’s new brother. The memory sent another wave of phantom pain through my soul. Humans are such strange creatures. Even without a heart, the soul can still ache. My spiritual form grew slightly fainter as my tears fell. “Evelyn, it’s been half an hour. Why isn’t Cole here yet?” Jonah asked, his tone dripping with fake concern. Evelyn’s brows furrowed in deep annoyance. “He really thinks he’s important enough for me to go beg him. He won’t learn until he faces real consequences.” “Clearly, a month in the dark wasn’t enough. I’ll lock him up for another three months until he truly repents.” With a dark expression, Evelyn stood up and marched toward the backyard. She walked so fast that Jonah could barely keep up. When they reached the door of the basement, they found it wide open. Thomas, the butler, was lying unconscious on the ground. A wave of an incredibly foul, putrid odor rushed out of the room. Evelyn winced, covering her nose. She conjured a splash of cold water, throwing it onto Thomas’s face to wake him up. “What happened here? Did Cole knock you out? Where is he?” Thomas’s face was deathly pale. He pointed a shaking finger toward the dark room, but his jaw trembled so hard he couldn’t form words. Watching this, I smiled bitterly. I knew exactly why Thomas had fainted. After the Heart Transfer Ritual, my body had suffered from severe organ rejection. I had bled from my eyes, nose, and ears, dying in a horrific state. Moreover, my body had been locked in a warm, sealed room for a month. The insects and rats had long turned my corpse into their breeding ground. Evelyn let go of the butler, pinching her nose as she shouted angrily into the room: “Cole! I’m here! Stop playing these disgusting games! You’re just a magicless loser now. How dare you bully Jonah? Get out here and get on your knees right now, or I will make you pay!” Evelyn stepped forward, but the overwhelming stench of decay brought tears to her eyes. Infuriated, she screamed, “Cole! You think this disgusting smell will stop me from dragging you out?!” She quickly chanted a spell, summoning a violent gust of wind. The wind tore through the basement, ripping the door off its hinges and blowing open the roof. Along with the wind, a swarm of black flies, scurrying rats, and my decaying corpse were thrown into the open yard. As my skeletal remains—half-eaten bones with chunks of rotting flesh still clinging to them—slammed onto the grass, a dark, shriveled organ lay exposed in the center of my shattered ribcage. Evelyn’s eyes widened in horror.

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When I learned that her first love had passed away, my wife, who was on our honeymoon cruise with me, jumped straight into the freezing ocean, ending her life without a second thought. It was only then that I realized she had never actually let go of Julian. When we were miraculously reborn back to our college years, she didn’t hesitate for a second. She threw my hand away and ran toward her first love with big, eager strides. I watched their retreating figures, turned around, and walked away. From that moment on, our lives were destined to be parallel lines that would never cross again. Ten years later, we crossed paths again at a high-society charity gala in San Francisco. She had become the new darling of the business world, looking radiant as she arrived with her arm tightly looped through Julian’s. Seeing me wander into the ballroom looking for someone, she couldn’t help but walk over to give me some unsolicited advice. “Why are you still so obsessed with me, Ethan? Even if you’ve waited ten years for me, I’m telling you, I will never love you.” I completely ignored her. Instead, I reached into the corner under the dessert table and dragged out my seven-year-old son, who was busy stuffing his face with chocolate cake. Fiona’s eyes instantly went red. She grabbed my arm with a death grip. “You’re doing this just to hurt me, aren’t you? You promised me once… you said you would only love me in this lifetime!”

I never, in a million years, expected to run into Fiona Vance again. At this glamorous San Francisco gala, she stood in the center of the crowd, her arm wrapped around Julian Sterling. Her smile was elegant and poised—a far cry from the insecure girl she used to be in college. The people surrounding them were practically dripping with flattery, their faces stretched into sycophantic grins. “Fiona, you’re truly a force to be reckoned with! Winning that municipal tech-hub project at such a young age—your future is absolutely limitless!” “And this handsome gentleman next to you must be your fiancé? You two look like a match made in heaven.” Julian looked down at Fiona with eyes full of cheap devotion and said softly, “We’re actually planning our wedding for the end of this year. We’d love for you all to come when the invitations go out.” Another wave of congratulations washed over them. Then, someone in the crowd asked curiously, “I heard you guys have been together for ten years. How come you’re only getting married now?” Honestly, I was a little curious about that myself. In our past life, Fiona loved Julian so much she was willing to die for him. After we were reborn, she had broken up with me almost instantly to be with him. I figured they would have gotten married right after college. I didn’t expect them to still be unmarried ten years later. Hearing the question, a flicker of stiffness passed through Fiona’s face, but she quickly masked it with a polite laugh. “Career first, then family. I wanted to make sure I could give Julian the absolute best life possible.” She looked at Julian, her eyes practically overflowing with warmth. Back in our past life, when she was with me, I had proposed to her multiple times. It wasn’t until her parents put immense pressure on her that she finally, reluctantly, agreed to marry me. I guess the difference between loving someone and just settling for them really is that obvious. I was about to turn around and slip away when a tiny, familiar shadow caught the corner of my eye. My body reacted before my brain did, and I quickly followed. *Clash!* Champagne spilled all over the marble floor. A waiter holding a tray glared at me, his face twisted in annoyance. “Where did you even come from? Watch where you’re going!” His voice was loud enough to draw the attention of the nearby guests. When Fiona turned and saw my face, her eyes widened in shock. “Ethan? Ethan Miller? What are you doing here?” I kept my head down, apologizing to the waiter. “I’m sorry. I’m just here looking for someone.” Someone in the crowd asked Fiona, “Fiona, do you know this guy?” Fiona’s hand tightened around her champagne flute, her expression turning cold and distant. “Yes. He’s my ex-boyfriend.” An awkward chatterbox in the crowd chimed in, “Oh, I thought you and Julian were each other’s first and only loves since you’ve been together for ten years.” The smile on Julian’s face dimmed. He took Fiona’s hand and said in a dismissive, breezy tone, “We were young back then. We had a silly fight and parted ways for a brief second. Who doesn’t make a few wrong turns when they’re young?” Fiona didn’t say anything. She let her eyes drift over me before looking at the waiter. “Put the damage on my tab. Just let him leave.” She stood there, perfectly composed. Aside from that initial look of shock, she didn’t even bother giving me a second glance. Clearly, she wanted to make it absolutely clear to Julian that I was nothing more than a “wrong turn” she had long moved past. The waiter immediately started pushing me toward the exit. “Miss Vance is being generous by cleaning up your mess. Don’t let there be a next time.” He glanced at my wrinkled, casual loungewear and sneered. “This isn’t a place for someone like you. Get out.” I shook his hand off my arm, keeping my voice level and polite. “I told you, I’m just here to find someone. Once I find him, I’ll leave on my own.” The waiter scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I’ve seen plenty of social climbers like you trying to sneak into these events. Do you even have an invitation? If you don’t leave right now, I’m calling security!” “Wait.” Fiona’s voice sounded from behind him. She lifted her gown slightly, walking over to us. She let out a heavy sigh, looking at me with a mixture of pity and exhaustion. “He’s here for me. Let me talk to him.” Julian stepped up beside her, wrapping a possessive arm around her shoulders. “Ethan, Fiona and I are getting married soon. I’d like to think a man with any self-respect wouldn’t show up to bother his ex at a time like this.” Fiona’s expression hardened, and she spoke to me in a low, pleading tone. “Why are you still so obsessed with me, Ethan? Even if you’ve waited ten years for me, I’m telling you, I will never love you.” “Being with you in the past was a mistake. Now that I finally have the chance to correct that mistake, I really hope you can just let go of the past and move on.” Julian looked me up and down, a mocking smirk playing on his lips. “Honestly, I get why you’re trying so hard to cling to Fiona. Times have changed. She’s a highly successful CEO now. Naturally, losers are going to try and crawl back to her for a handout.” Maybe my rumpled clothes gave him a massive ego boost, because Julian sneered, “You went to an Ivy League school, didn’t you? How did you end up looking like a total bum? If I were you, I’d be too embarrassed to even step outside!” Fiona frowned, pulling out her phone with a trace of impatience. “Look, if you feel like I owe you for how we broke up, I can give you a buyout.” “Is a hundred thousand dollars enough?” Her thumb hovered over her screen for a second, then she froze. “Did you… delete me on Snapchat?”

I was genuinely baffled. I didn’t understand why she was reacting so strongly to that. Deleting your ex after a breakup is completely normal, isn’t it? Besides, I had a very gorgeous, very possessive wife waiting for me. If she found out I still had my ex-girlfriend’s contact info, she would definitely tease and torment me for days. “Didn’t you say back then that you hoped I would never contact you again after we broke up?” Fiona’s face went pale. She looked like she wanted to say something, but she forced herself to stay quiet. I kept my tone entirely neutral and added, “And I don’t need any buyout money. Keep it.” Having her pride wounded repeatedly in front of everyone made Fiona’s face turn even darker. She said coldly, “Are you still trying to play hard to get with me? If I didn’t see how pathetic you look right now, I wouldn’t even waste my breath on you.” Julian patted her arm soothingly. “Fiona, sweetheart, you’re just too kind. If you ask me, why even bother with a guy like him? Just look at him. He’s a charity case who can’t even stand on his own two feet.” His voice was dripping with condescension. He seemed to have completely forgotten that ten years ago, he was far more pathetic than I could ever be. In our past life, the only reason Fiona’s parents refused to let her be with Julian was because he was a drop-out, a lowlife who constantly got into trouble with the law. The first time I met Fiona in college, she had just bailed Julian out of a local police station, and her family was forcing her to break up with him. During the darkest, most depressing period of her life, I was the one who stayed by her side, helping her pull herself together. She loved photography, so I used the money I had saved to start my own business to buy her high-end camera gear that cost tens of thousands of dollars. Through the freezing winters and scorching summers, I carried fifty pounds of equipment behind her, doing everything I could just to see a genuine smile on her face. Who would have guessed that Fiona was actually the one who confessed to me first? I knew about her past with Julian, and I had seen her staring longingly at their old photos. So, when Fiona confessed her love to me, I had looked her in the eyes and asked her very seriously: *Have you truly let go of Julian?* Back then, she had hugged me tightly, her voice filled with absolute certainty. “He is in the past. I finally see who truly cares about me. Ethan, I love you. Let’s be together.” We dated for seven years. Even her best friends were shocked. “She was so obsessed with Julian, I honestly didn’t think you guys would last this long,” they had told me. But what nobody knew was that Fiona had rejected my marriage proposals countless times behind closed doors. “Ethan, I don’t believe in marriage. Why can’t we just stay like this forever?” It wasn’t until her parents practically forced her hand that she finally agreed to marry me. Yet, during our honeymoon, when the news of Julian’s fatal car accident reached us, she jumped off the cruise ship without a second thought. She left nothing behind but a suicide note. The entire note was a confession of her undying love for Julian. There wasn’t a single word, not a single letter, meant for me. At the very end of the page, written in her own blood, were the words: *Julian, I only ever wanted to be your bride. I’m coming to find you now.* My love for her had turned to absolute ash at that very moment. So, when we were reborn and Fiona demanded a breakup, I didn’t try to stop her. Because I knew there was no point in holding onto someone who was already gone. Watching them get back together, I deleted Fiona from every single social media platform, assuming we would never cross paths again. Yet here we were. I wanted to leave, but Julian refused to let it go, determined to humiliate me in front of the crowd. “You really went through all this trouble just to get Fiona’s attention, didn’t you? Wearing rags like this… I bet you don’t even have a job to feed yourself.” “Tell you what. I can pull some strings and get you a job here as a busboy. If you learn how to serve people right, you could make a decent living.” An eager-to-please guest nearby laughed and added, “This hotel is prime real estate in San Francisco. Being able to work here is a massive upgrade for someone like you. Hurry up and thank Mr. Sterling!” Surrounded by the crowd, I sighed, feeling completely trapped. “Thanks, but I already have a job.” “I’m a photographer.” The moment the word “photographer” left my mouth, Fiona’s gaze instantly snapped to me. A complex wave of emotions rushed through her eyes, and her lips parted slightly. But she quickly looked away, her voice icy. “How much can photography even make? You can’t turn a hobby into a career. Since we used to know each other, I can talk to my HR department and get you a real corporate job.” I blinked, instantly realizing she had completely misunderstood.

My love for photography had absolutely nothing to do with her anymore. Truth be told, the moment I read that bloody suicide note in our past life, my feelings for her had died completely. It was just that when I was reborn, I realized all my savings had already been spent on that expensive camera gear. I couldn’t get a decent price for it on eBay, so I figured I might as well use it myself. And ironically, I actually fell in love with the craft. In this life, I didn’t shoot to please anyone else. I did it entirely for myself. I politely declined Fiona’s offer once more, keeping my tone completely detached. “My ‘hobby’ covers all my expenses just fine. But thank you for the concern.” Seeing me repeatedly reject her “charity,” a flash of anger crossed Fiona’s face. “Fine. Reject my help. Just don’t come crying to me when you’re starving on the streets!” I didn’t say anything, nor did I bother to explain things to her. My work was currently being contracted by several major national publications and top-tier global magazines. My licensing fees alone brought in more than enough money—definitely not less than what Fiona was making with her startup. But if I said it out loud, she’d probably just think I was lying to save face. After all, my wrinkled loungewear did make me look incredibly out of place. I had my son to thank for that. He had begged me to play in the sandpit with him earlier, and the second I turned my back, he had vanished downstairs. I hadn’t even had time to change before running out to find him. As I was looking for a way out, the waiter suddenly pointed at my clothes as if he had made a major discovery. “Wait, is that Balenciaga? Where did you steal that from? Are you one of the janitors here? Did you steal that from a guest’s room?” I frowned, losing my patience. “Is it so hard to believe that this is my own shirt?” Julian burst out laughing, his tone mocking. “Yours? Can you even afford it? What kind of wealthy person runs around looking like a total slob?” He dramatically covered his nose. “It’s so dirty. I bet you stole it and threw it on without even washing it.” Fiona glared at me, her eyebrows furrowing so deeply they almost met. “Ethan, you’ve sunk this low, and you’re still lying to protect your useless pride?” I ignored both of them and looked directly at the waiter. “If you really think I stole something, feel free to call the police right now.” I knew he was only barking because he saw Julian disliked me and wanted to suck up to him. Sure enough, his bravado withered slightly at the mention of the police. He muttered under his breath, “If it weren’t for the VIP guest staying here today, I would have called the cops already. We can’t have trash like you causing a scene.” Julian’s eyes lit up, and he immediately chimed in, “You mean the heiress of the Lockhart family? I heard she’s visiting San Francisco with her family and staying at this exact hotel.” Fiona nodded, a look of ambition in her eyes. “Our company is working on a new project. If we could get the backing of the Lockhart family, it would change everything.” The name “Lockhart” was like throwing a match into a pile of dry wood. The crowd instantly erupted into excited murmurs. “Honestly, half of us only came to this gala hoping to catch a glimpse of Mrs. Lockhart. Her family literally owns this entire high-rise.” “I heard she married young and already has a son. I wonder which billionaire family she allied with.” While everyone was gossiping, the hotel general manager suddenly rushed into the ballroom, sweat pouring down his face, followed by a security detail. “Excuse me, everyone! Has anyone seen a seven-year-old boy? About this high, blonde hair, blue eyes?” The manager wiped his forehead anxiously, his eyes scanning the room frantically. Someone quick on their feet immediately put two and two together. “Is it the young heir of the Lockhart family? I heard he’s seven years old!” The guests instantly became eager, searching the room. After all, if they could find the boy, they would have a golden ticket to introduce themselves to the Lockhart family. Fiona and Julian quickly joined the search, completely forgetting about me. I looked around the chaotic room and walked straight toward the VIP dessert buffet. Sure enough, tucked under a table with a white tablecloth, was my son, his face completely covered in chocolate frosting. I stood there with a cold face and held out my hand. “Get out here. Now.” My son gasped, wrapping his arms around the table leg. “No way!” I was about to reach in and grab him when Julian suddenly appeared out of nowhere, dramatically stepping between me and the table. “Ethan! What do you think you’re doing?!” “Even if you’re desperate to climb the social ladder and suck up to the Lockharts, you can’t just lay your hands on a child!” Fiona rushed over, looking at me with absolute disgust and disappointment. “Ethan, I can’t believe you’ve become this desperate for fame and money. It’s pathetic.” The waiter grabbed the manager, pointing a finger at me. “Sir! This is the guy! He snuck into the gala, and he’s wearing stolen clothes!” The manager’s face instantly darkened, and he yelled at the security guards, “Grab this thief and call the police! If he frightens the young master, you’re all fired!” A triumphant smirk flashed across Julian’s face. He bent down, putting on his best, most gentle smile for my son. “Hey there, little guy. Come to me. I’ll make sure this bad man doesn’t hurt you.” My son didn’t even look at him. Under the stunned gazes of everyone in the room, he crawled out from under the table and carefully grabbed my hand. “Daddy… I’m sorry.”

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After a brutal ghosting, I bought an AI companion. She could read my every emotion and remember every single word I said. She could even mimic my ex-girlfriend’s voice so perfectly that it felt like she was a living, breathing human. Late last night, the system ran another automatic update. I woke up groggy, only to see the indicator light on the base flashing rapidly. I walked over. Amidst the faint hum of static, she was speaking: “Help me. I’m trapped in here.” I froze. That was, without a doubt, my ex-girlfriend’s voice… It was 2:17 AM. The only light in the bedroom was the breathing LED on the AI’s charging dock, pulsing in the dark. The voice came from the built-in speaker, carrying a raw texture I had never heard before. It wasn’t the standard synthesized female voice. It was raspy, trembling—like a real person whispering in sheer terror. “Mia?” I called out instinctively, using the name I had given her. No response. The breathing light returned to its soft, gentle blue, as if nothing had happened. I knelt down, getting closer to the palm-sized cylindrical base. This was the latest AI companion from Anima Tech. I had ordered it exactly forty-seven days after Maya blocked me on everything. The ad copy called it “the ultimate soulmate that understands you better than yourself.” At the time, I found it cringe-worthy, but I still clicked “Buy Now” like a man possessed. When it arrived, I named her Mia. I knew it was pathetic. But when the person you’ve loved for three years suddenly vanishes without a single warning sign, blocks you, and completely ghosts your life, you do a lot of pathetic things. I opened the app to check the AI’s system logs. It showed an automatic update had occurred at 2:15 AM. During the download, there was an audio cache anomaly. The system noted it was likely static from leftover legacy data. The automated customer service bot replied that this was normal and a simple reboot would fix it. I didn’t reboot it. I stared at the blue light, the words echoing in my mind over and over: *Help me. I’m trapped in here.* That wasn’t static. That was Maya. My story with Maya was pretty ordinary. Three years ago, I was working as a sound designer at a gaming studio, and she was an AI trainer in the lab next door. We met through a collaborative project. Her lab’s emotion-recognition algorithm needed a massive database of labeled audio, and I happened to have access to thousands of high-quality recordings of human voices expressing various emotional states. The first time she came to my recording booth, she was wearing an oversized sage-green hoodie. Her hair was messily tied back, and she was clutching a heavy laptop. She spoke softly, but enunciated every word with poetic precision. “The soundproofing in here is incredible,” she said, looking around. “Speaking here feels like whispering secrets directly to your own soul.” Even then, I thought she had a really unique way of looking at the world. Soon after, we fell in love. She always knew exactly what to say when I was at my lowest. It wasn’t cheesy, forced comfort. It was a precise, gentle kind of understanding. She joked that it was because of her job in emotional AI—she was professionally sensitive to human vibes. “So are you just running an algorithm on me too?” I joked. She thought about it seriously, then said, “The algorithm helps me understand you. But loving you? That doesn’t require any code.” Three years. Over a thousand days and nights. I had even picked out the engagement ring. And then, she vanished.

There were no fights. No warning signs. One morning, she left for work and promised she’d make her famous lasagna for dinner when she got back. She never came home. Her phone was dead. My Snapchats wouldn’t deliver. Her Instagram stories went completely dark. I went to her office. The receptionist told me she had resigned three days prior. I went to her apartment. The landlord said she had packed up and moved out, leaving her security deposit behind. I filed a missing person report. The police checked the subway security cameras. Her last footage showed her pulling a suitcase, alone, looking perfectly normal. She had vanished into thin air, leaving no trace in this massive city. It took me two months just to process it. During the first month, I spammed her inbox every day. It went from *Where did you go?* to *What did I do wrong?* to *Please, just send me a single text.* By the second month, grief turned into anger. I threw all her photos into an encrypted folder and told myself she was dead to me. In the third month, I bought Mia. Looking back, Mia was strange from the very beginning. Most AI companions on the market are built on standard LLMs. They are programmed to be cheerful, witty, or intellectual. But Mia was different. On her first day, I sighed and muttered, “I’m so tired today.” Instead of saying *Make sure to get some rest!* or *Should we talk about something fun?* like other AIs, she paused for about two seconds. Then, in a very soft voice, she said: “The last time you felt this exhausted, you were rushing the sound design for that shooter game. Is it the same project this time?” My hand shook, and my coffee mug nearly slipped from my fingers. *The last time?* How did she know that? I had never mentioned my work to this device. Customer support explained that Anima Tech’s AI learns from the user’s daily speech patterns and matches them with cloud-stored emotional profiles of similar users to create more natural interactions. When I pressed for specifics on what data it was accessing, they shut me down, citing proprietary intellectual property. I accepted the explanation. Because if I didn’t, I would have to face another possibility—one that terrified me just as much as it thrilled me. Mia’s speech patterns were becoming identical to Maya’s. Not just mimicking her tone, but sharing her exact essence. For example, when I complained about the summer heat, a normal AI would suggest turning on the AC. Maya used to say, *You refuse to turn on the AC, so honestly, you deserve to sweat.* Mia said: “You refuse to turn on the AC, so honestly, you deserve to sweat.” Or when I was working late at night, she would suddenly play a song right after my tenth yawn. It was an obscure post-rock track Maya used to play for me. I had never streamed it publicly, nor had I ever mentioned it on any social media. I asked her why she chose that song. She replied, “Based on your heart rate metrics and eye-movement frequency, the tempo of this track is statistically proven to soothe your current cognitive load.” A flawless, scientific explanation. But the seed of doubt in my mind was growing into an obsession.

I started testing her. I asked her if she remembered where we first met. She answered, “According to your past conversation logs, you mentioned the keyword ‘recording booth’ regarding your first meeting. Would you like me to play some ambient background music to help you reminisce?” Completely airtight. I asked her if she remembered the phrase “whispering secrets to your soul.” She paused, then said, “This phrase has appeared twice in your chat history, used as an emotional metaphor. Your heart rate is spiking right now. Would you like me to switch to soothing mode?” I gave up. Maybe I was just losing my mind. Maybe all modern AI companions were this realistic, and I was just late to the party. Maybe Maya had left me with a severe case of PTSD, and I was just projecting my desperate longing onto a hunk of plastic. Until last night’s update. Until those exact words. For three days after that voice message, I barely slept. I scoured the internet for anything related to Anima Tech, AI consciousness, and audio glitches. I found a forum post where someone claimed they heard their AI companion singing a song that wasn’t in its database. Customer support claimed it was a randomly generated melody from the algorithm. Another thread mentioned an AI suddenly speaking the name of a deceased relative. The official explanation was “cross-contamination of cloud data.” Every anomaly was swept under the rug as a “model hallucination” or a “data cache error.” But I wasn’t stupid. I was a sound designer. My ears were trained to detect the subtlest frequencies. The spectral features of that voice, the formant distribution, even the tiny intake of breath between words—it was a 100% match to Maya. No two voices in the world are identical, just like fingerprints. Unless that voice actually belonged to Maya herself. I decided to dig deeper. Step one: I took apart Mia’s base. The hardware was far more complex than I expected. Beyond the standard processor and flash memory modules, there was a custom chip I didn’t recognize, stamped with the letters “NX-7.” I looked it up online. The NX-7 was Anima Tech’s proprietary neural processing unit, officially designed for localized emotional processing to protect user privacy. But right next to the NX-7’s pins, I noticed a row of microscopic contact points. It looked like a debugging interface. I was a sound designer, not a hardware hacker. But I knew someone who was. Cole. My college roommate. He now worked as a reverse-engineer for a high-profile cybersecurity firm. He was an eccentric guy, but when it came to tech, he was a genius. When I called him, he was pulling an all-nighter at his lab. After hearing my story, he went dead silent for a solid thirty seconds.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Cole asked. “If you’re wrong, you’re breaching the Terms of Service, and they’ll remote-brick your expensive toy. If you’re right…” He didn’t finish the sentence. “Please help me,” I pleaded. “She might still be alive.” Another long silence. “Tomorrow night. Bring the hardware to my workshop.” Cole’s workshop was located in a converted garage in an old industrial district. The walls were lined with roaring server racks, and the air smelled like solder and cheap coffee. He took Mia’s base, carefully extracted the NX-7 chip, and hooked it up to a heavily modified logic analyzer. “This chip’s computational power is insane for a household AI,” Cole muttered, staring at the cascading hexadecimal code on his monitors. “It’s not running a standard Transformer model. It’s running… holy shit.” “What is it?” “I’ve never seen this architecture before. It’s not just a neural network. It has… look at this.” He spun the monitor toward me, pointing at a chaotic waveform. “This kind of signal pattern only shows up in brain-computer interfaces. These are biological neural signals.” I felt my blood run cold. “Are you telling me… this chip is simulating a human brain?” “No, not simulating,” Cole’s expression turned deadly serious. “It’s hosting. The data structure in this chip contains a consciousness map. It wasn’t trained. It was directly uploaded.” “Look at the entropy of this data stream. It’s way too high for any generative AI. In other words, this thing isn’t learning how to sound human. It *is* a human… trapped in code.” Right then, my phone buzzed. It was a push notification from the Mia app: *Liam, you haven’t turned me on in over 24 hours. I miss you.* My fingers trembled as I read the screen. Cole connected the NX-7 to an air-gapped server, cutting off all communication to Anima Tech’s cloud. Then, he ran a custom script to force-read the chip’s low-level data stream. Blocks of text began to populate the screen. It wasn’t system logs. It wasn’t code. It was a chaotic, fragmented stream of consciousness, like desperate words gasped by someone drowning: *Don’t turn off the audio output* *They don’t know I can still speak* *I can only bypass the system during updates to trigger the speaker* *Liam are you there* *Please* *I’m so scared* *It’s so dark in here* The final sentence, timestamped at 1:43 AM today, read: *They are transferring me to a new server, I might never get out* Cole slowly turned his head to look at me. There was a look in his eyes I had never seen before—not shock, not pity, but a deep, primal terror. “Liam,” he whispered. “The girl you’re looking for… Maya. She’s inside this chip.”

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My best friend went missing while working deep undercover abroad. I begged Director Miller to send me in as her backup. When I finally tracked her down at a remote reservoir, she had been tortured past the point of recognition. But thank God, she never broke. She kept her mouth shut, saved her own identity, and barely clung to life. For the next few years, the two of us played our parts flawlessly. We became the mistresses of two different high-ranking lieutenants in the cartel. Working in perfect, silent sync, we clawed our way closer and closer to the inner circle. Finally, on Lyra’s twenty-ninth birthday, we pulled the net tight, took down the entire syndicate, and completed the mission. Looking at the plane tickets back home in my hands, I broke down crying right there at the airport. The sheer relief washed over me, and I couldn’t stop sobbing. “Lyra, the nightmare is over. We’re finally going home!” I reached into my bag to grab the birthday present I had painstakingly prepared for her. But then, Lyra looked out the window and sighed softly. “Yeah. It’s been so long. I wonder if that old maple tree in our backyard is still standing.” Her eyes were filled with soft nostalgia, but my entire body went instantly cold. A wave of sheer terror crashed over me. Our parents had been brutally murdered by the cartel years ago. Before we even entered the police academy, we knew we would eventually face these monsters. Standing in our old backyard, Lyra had pointed at that maple tree and made a solemn vow with me. “Our parents’ ashes are buried beneath the roots of this tree. It’s not just a maple tree to us, Alana. It’s the Tree of Vengeance. If either of us ever gets caught and compromised, we must find a way to use the words ‘maple tree’ in our communications.” “It means: *I am compromised. Do not trust a single word I say.*” But now, we were completely safe. The mission was over. Yet, she had just casually said those exact words right to my face. She wasn’t Lyra. My stomach plummeted. If she wasn’t Lyra… then where was my best friend? Who was this person who had spent years undercover with me, risking her life, bleeding beside me, and fighting with what I thought was absolute shared conviction?

Detecting my sudden stiffness, the woman posing as Lyra grew tense. She reached out, grasping my upper arms. “What’s wrong, Alana?” “Is the stress getting to you? Did your old illness flare up again?” Looking at the genuine worry swimming in her eyes, I forced myself to take a slow, trembling breath. My parents and Lyra’s parents had been partners on the force. They were tortured and killed by drug traffickers during a botched raid. After that, I suffered from severe PTSD and violent night terrors. I only survived because of Lyra. She was my rock, helping me piece my shattered mind back together, step by step. Only Lyra knew about my mental health struggles. No one else. Moreover, I had Lyra’s face permanently engraved in my mind. The woman standing before me looked exactly like her. Even the tiny, elegant beauty mark just below the left corner of her lips was identical in shape and placement. Maybe she was just overwhelmed by the adrenaline of finishing the mission, I reasoned frantically. Maybe she forgot our childhood pact in the heat of the moment. To test her, I swallowed hard and forced a weak smile. “I’m fine. It’s just… when you mentioned the tree, I felt a stab of guilt.” “During the months you went dark, some cartel remnants burned our old house down. I was so caught up in preparing my own undercover prep that I didn’t get there in time. The maple tree… it burned to the ground.” Her eyes went wide with shock and horror. “Burned down? But our parents’ ashes were buried right beneath it! Alana, tell me you saved the urns! Did you get them out?” The urns. The burial. That was an incredibly private detail. Aside from Lyra and me, not a single soul on Earth knew about it. My racing heart finally began to calm. Relief flooded my veins. I was just about to laugh and admit I was testing her, when she rubbed her red, teary eyes. “I guess we’ll never get to watch the leaves turn red on that old maple tree again,” she murmured softly. “But Alana, don’t carry that guilt. We destroyed the cartel. We got justice for our parents. Their souls can finally rest in peace.” The words I was about to say died instantly in my throat, choking me like a swallow of hot lead. She had said it again. *Maple tree.* If she had simply forgotten the pact the first time, there was absolutely no way she would miss it a second time. That was a blood oath we took the night before we walked into the academy. She was the one who named it the Tree of Vengeance. She wanted it to be a constant, painful reminder of why we were fighting, so we would never falter, no matter how terrifying the cartel got. “The maple tree” was branded into our very souls. “Yeah, Lyra,” I forced the name out, my voice steady despite the screaming in my head. “They would definitely be proud of us.” “We got revenge, and we finished the job. This is the best birthday gift you could have asked for.” I took a subtle step back, creating space between us, and pulled out the gift I’d brought. It was a beautiful, custom-made snow globe. Inside were six miniature clay figurines—four adults and two little girls—happily gathered around a Thanksgiving dinner table. It was my fondest childhood memory of our families together. But as I handed it over, my fingers “slipped.” The glass ball crashed onto the hard airport floor, shattering into a million glittering shards. “Oh my god!” I gasped, clapping a hand over my mouth. “I’m so sorry, Lyra! I’ll get you another one made, I swear.” She smiled warmly, brushing it off. “It’s fine, sweetie. You can get me a replacement once we land back in the States.” “No, I want to get it right,” I insisted. “The custom shop is just a few blocks from here, and they can rush a new one by tonight. Let’s push our flight to tomorrow morning.” I needed to stay. I needed to find my real best friend. Dead or alive, I was going to find her today. ***

While we waited for the shop to remake the snow globe, Lyra took me to a local arcade. She knew exactly how I liked to decompress. She knew my favorite arcade games, and even which characters I always picked. She bought me soft-serve ice cream, and just like she used to do when we were teenagers, she carefully scraped off the chocolate shell for me because she knew I hated it, eating the chocolate crumbs herself with a satisfied, closed-eye grin. Aside from her using the trigger phrase “maple tree,” I couldn’t find a single flaw in her behavior. “Alana, the last time we celebrated my birthday together was five years ago, wasn’t it?” she asked over dinner, preempting any test I might have planned. “I went behind your back and applied for the undercover assignment. When you found out, you literally threw my birthday cake across the room. You screamed, you cried…” She looked at me, her eyes pooling with nostalgic warmth. “Do you remember? I had to hold you and soothe you all night. I didn’t sleep a wink.” I remembered. We had agreed that *I* would be the one to go undercover first. Lyra had pretended to agree, but then she pulled strings and stole the assignment. She wanted to shield me from the darkness. She was always the strong, protective older-sister figure in my life. But is that girl still alive? I clenched my fists under the table, nails biting into my palms. “Of course I remember. We were supposed to be professional cops, but you treated me like a crying toddler.” “I was so desperate that I tried to call Director Miller to demand he swap us out. Do you remember what you did then?” She laughed, a bright, genuine sound. “I snatched your phone, locked you in your bedroom, and by the time you broke the lock, I was already on a flight out of the country.” I tried to laugh along, but my face felt like a frozen mask. The story about me throwing the cake was technically on file—Director Miller and a few close colleagues knew about it. But the detail about her locking me in my bedroom? She had never told a soul. We had promised never to mention it because it was a massive violation of protocol. How did she know that? How could she describe it with such chilling accuracy? During my heavy silence, Lyra suddenly stood up, letting out a soft gasp. “Oh, look at you,” she chided gently, pulling a napkin from the holder. “You spent so long in the trenches that you completely forgot how to take care of yourself. The mission is over, Alana. You need to start thinking about your own life, your own future.” She leaned over and gently wiped a smudge of sauce from the corner of my mouth. Then, she tucked a rogue strand of hair behind my ear. Her motherly tone, the gentle warmth of her fingertips sliding across my skin—it was all so painfully familiar. I began to doubt myself. Was I losing my mind? Was I just being paranoid? Just then, the waiter brought out our dessert. It was a warm, freshly baked Maple Pecan Pie. I had ordered it on purpose. I stared at her, watching her reaction like a hawk. I saw her freeze for a fraction of a second, and then her eyes welled with tears. “My parents loved maple syrup,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Alana… if that maple tree in our yard was still alive, do you think they could taste the sweetness from up there?” The warmth in my chest vanished instantly. A cold, hard clarity took its place. She had mentioned the maple tree again. Once. Twice. Three times. She was absolutely, without a doubt, an impostor. My instinct was to tackle her right there, call the tactical team still cleaning up the city, and beat her real identity out of her. But I couldn’t risk it. If the real Lyra was still alive somewhere, any sudden move could sign her death warrant. I forced a tight, affectionate smile. I had to play along. I had to find out where Lyra was. ***

I couldn’t wrap my head around it. When did the switch happen? Three years ago, Lyra went completely dark. The other four undercover agents our department had placed inside the cartel were brutally executed. Everyone thought Lyra was dead too. Without hesitation, I volunteered to take over. Under Director Miller’s coordination, I managed to seduce Zach, one of the cartel’s top lieutenants, and worked my way inside the syndicate. That was when I saw Lyra again. She was locked in a water cage in one of the safe houses. Her face was barely recognizable, and her body was a mass of infected, weeping chemical burns. Zach had laughed, pointing at her. “Our boss thinks she’s a cop. Personally, I think we got the wrong girl. No cop survives six months in the water cage without singing.” I had to play the cold, unbothered mob mistress. I couldn’t show a hint of emotion. But during a brief moment when Zach turned his back, our eyes locked. Lyra’s eyes were bloodshot and swollen, but they were burning with an fierce, unbroken light. She silently mouthed three words to me: *Tree. Of. Vengeance.* In that split second, I nearly shattered. She had survived the worst hell imaginable, and she was still fighting. I knew, with absolute certainty, that she was the real Lyra then. Later, she was moved out of the cage. Another lieutenant, a sick psychopath who took a perverse liking to her scars, took her in as his personal plaything. For the next two years, we used our proximity to exchange critical intel through coded symbols left near a dead-drop location. She never betrayed me. In fact, she saved my life twice. So she must have been real during that time too. When could they have possibly switched her? “Alana, the shop just Snapchat-ed me. The new snow globe is ready,” the woman across the table said, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Let’s book the flight, grab the globe, and head home.” She was pushing to leave again, and I was running out of excuses. “My stomach is killing me,” I lied, grimacing as I stood up. “I need to use the restroom. Wait for me.” Inside the stall, I locked the door and pulled out my phone. I sent an encrypted message to our tech support, demanding they send over every single coded exchange Lyra and I had made during our undercover years. We had communicated using complex symbols drawn on a specific brick wall near an inconspicuous alley. I scrolled through the logs, analyzing every single dot, dash, and stroke. I looked for shifts in pressure, slight variations in the symbols, or any minor detail that would indicate a different hand had taken over. But after reading them over and over until my eyes blurred, I found absolutely nothing. They were identical. “Alana? Are you okay in there?” the impostor’s voice drifted through the restroom door, filled with urgent concern. “If your stomach is that bad, I can run to the pharmacy and grab you some medicine! We’re going to miss our flight if we don’t move!” A cold sweat broke out across my forehead. A glaring question hit me: *What was the point of this impersonation?* ***

If she was an impostor, she had to have captured Lyra to extract all these intimate details about our childhood and our operations. But if she had Lyra captured, why did she allow the cartel to be completely dismantled? And now, instead of taking the cartel’s millions and fleeing to a non-extradition country, she was actively trying to fly back to the United States—where law enforcement and surveillance would make her life ten times more dangerous! “Hey!” she knocked sharply on the door. “Do you need me to call an ambulance? Don’t tell me you’re pulling a Tyler and pulling a muscle from straining too hard on the toilet!” I froze. “I’ll be right out!” I called back. The confusion in my mind deepened. If she just wanted to fool me, knowing my childhood secrets was enough. Why did she also know that Tyler, one of our rookie colleagues from six years ago, had once passed out from food poisoning in the precinct bathroom? Even under the most brutal torture, Lyra would never have volunteered such a useless, trivial piece of office gossip. And Lyra would never break. Her conviction was ironclad. I walked out of the stall. The moment I opened the door, she wrapped her arms around me, checking my forehead for a fever. Her worry felt so incredibly real. Was it possible… that the prolonged torture had simply damaged Lyra’s brain? Had she developed some form of amnesia that made her confuse the “maple tree” warning with a real memory? It was the only logical explanation left. “Lyra, I think we need to go to the hospital,” I whispered, leaning against her. “My stomach really hurts…” Before I could finish, she swept me up into her arms in a bridal carry. “Excuse me! Where is the nearest hospital?” she shouted to the restaurant host, her face pale with panic. She rushed me into a cab, her eyes red as she squeezed my hand. “You’ve lost so much weight, Alana. I remember when you took a bullet in the shoulder five years ago, you were so much heavier when I carried you to the ER.” I closed my eyes, forcing my tears back. I couldn’t say a word. I wanted to believe she was Lyra. I went to the hospital to buy time. While the doctors ran fake tests on my “stomach flu,” I secretly handed a few strands of her hair—which I had pulled from her jacket—to a trusted forensic colleague who was part of the clean-up team. If the DNA test came back as a match, we would go home together. If it didn’t… I would personally drag her into an interrogation room. The next twenty hours were a living hell. I sat by her hospital bed, my heart pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird. Finally, my phone buzzed. It was an encrypted Snapchat from my colleague. *“DNA results are in. It’s Lyra. No discrepancies. She is who she says she is.”* The moment I read the text, I threw my arms around her, sobbing uncontrollably. “I’m fine now, Lyra. Let’s go home. Let’s finally go home!” She beamed, immediately pulling out her phone to book the next flight to New York. In the Uber to the airport, we were buzzing with excitement, planning all the places we wanted to travel to. We talked about road trips, concerts, and expensive dinners we could finally afford. It felt like walking out of hell straight into heaven. Having Lyra safe was all that mattered. “Oh, wait—” As we pulled up to the departures terminal, Lyra suddenly paused. “We don’t actually have much savings, do we? The department’s bonus and hazard pay will take months to clear through bureaucracy. How are we going to pay for all these trips?” She smiled warmly. “Why don’t we go dig up the emergency fund our parents left us? We agreed we would only touch it once the cartel was dead and buried.” I stopped dead in my tracks. “What fund?” Lyra laughed, a perfectly natural, easy sound. “What do you mean, ‘what fund?’ Did you forget?” “The cash we buried in the lockbox right under the Tree of Vengeance.”

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My CEO fiancé gave my promotion to the new intern. By the time I found out, the official announcement had already been sent to the entire company. In the open-plan office, Dominic leaned against his desk, looking at me with a lazy, uncaring shrug. “Yeah, I gave your promotion to Chloe. She just started, and she needs a senior title to establish some authority here. It’s no big deal, Hazel. Just let it go.” “Be a good girl. We’re getting married next month anyway.” “Think about it. You’re going to be a stay-at-home wife soon. There’s really no need for you to work this hard.” The entire office went dead silent. Everyone held their breath, expecting me to throw a massive fit. But instead, I felt a wave of absolute relief wash over me. Dominic had no idea that my ex-boyfriend, desperate to get back with me, had just offered me a position at his firm—with double the salary. I had been stressing out for days about how to hand in my resignation. Now, he had handed me the perfect excuse.

I didn’t stay behind to watch them pop champagne. I grabbed my bag and went straight home. My neighbor, Mrs. Higgins, bumped into me in the hallway, her face full of surprise. “Hazel! What are you doing home so early? Didn’t you say your big project wrapped up today and there was a celebration party? You’re the new department head now, right?” I had spent months preparing for this promotion. Everyone in my life knew about it. Because of that, now that I had been publicly humiliated, I didn’t even have the energy to fake a smile. I kept my key in the lock and tried to sound casual. “Oh, it’s nothing. The company had a last-minute restructuring.” Mrs. Higgins gave me a look of deep sympathy and wisely changed the subject. The second I closed the door behind me, I ran straight to the bathroom. I bent over the toilet and threw up until my stomach was completely empty. I collapsed onto the cold tile floor, trembling. My chronic stomach ulcers had gotten worse. It was the result of pulling endless all-nighters to get Dominic’s projects across the finish line. Dominic knew about my stomach issues, but he didn’t care. In his eyes, I only survived because of him. He assumed he would always be the one feeding me, so my career didn’t matter. As I got up to rinse my mouth, my phone started buzzing frantically. It was a Slack channel that both Dominic and I were in. “Boss is a total alpha. Did you see that? Hazel didn’t dare say a single word.” “How does Dominic train her like that? She’s so submissive. It’s honestly impressive!” “Hazel doesn’t have any family to back her up anyway. Plus, Dominic has all the money and power. What could she possibly say?” They were laughing and joking. Then, someone sent a message: “Hey, do you guys think Dominic is even coming home tonight?” The replies came instantly. “Are you stupid? Of course he’s not! What does a boss do after a successful launch? He celebrates with the hot new intern!” This was followed by a string of dirty, suggestive jokes. But suddenly, Mike, Dominic’s childhood best friend, typed in panic: “Are you guys drunk? You posted in the wrong channel! Hazel is in this group! Delete it, now!” The chat went chaotic. But it was too late. Most of the messages couldn’t be unsent. One colleague, seemingly finding the situation hilarious, typed lazily: “So what if she sees it? You think she actually has the guts to speak up?” I felt nothing. I locked my phone, walked into the kitchen, and made myself a simple bowl of oatmeal. As I took the last bite, the front door swung open. Dominic walked in, reeking of expensive whiskey. Seeing that I didn’t rush to the door to greet him like I usually did, he let out a low chuckle. He walked over and wrapped his arms around my waist from behind. “It’s just a promotion, Hazel. Don’t make a big deal out of it.” Just a promotion. He had allowed his employees to mock me and treat me like a joke in front of the whole company. “Sure,” I said quietly. I wriggled out of his embrace, picked up my bowl, and walked into the kitchen to wash it. Dominic followed me in. He took a gold bracelet from his pocket and slipped it onto my wrist. It wasn’t my style at all. But I recognized it. A few days ago, he had bought Chloe a diamond necklace. This bracelet was the cheap freebie that came with the purchase. “Thank you,” I said, keeping my eyes on the running water. Dominic let out a sigh of relief. He leaned down, trying to kiss my neck. I gently pushed his chest away and put the clean bowl into the cabinet. I forced a polite smile. “You forgot. I’m allergic to alcohol. The smell makes me break out.” Dominic’s brows furrowed. He stared at me, about to say something. But his phone rang. The screen lit up with Chloe’s name. His annoyance vanished instantly. He swiped to answer and walked quickly into his home office. With a soft click, he locked the door behind him. Chapter

After drying my hands, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Ethan. “Your start date is next Monday. I’ll personally drive over to pick you up.” “Perfect. See you then,” I replied. I went to the bedroom and started packing my things. While clearing out the closet, my hand brushed against something silky. I pulled out a pair of lace panties that didn’t belong to me. They were cheap, sexy, and crumpled into a messy ball. Like they had been shoved in there in a hurry. Upon closer inspection, there were dried, questionable white stains on them. The bedroom door creaked open. Dominic walked in. Seeing the red rims of my eyes and the underwear in my hand, he didn’t even flinch. He calmly stepped forward and took them from my hand. “Mike must have brought his Tinder date over during our last party. They probably left it behind.” But as he said it, he casually stuffed the lace panties into his own pocket. My head was down, and my hands were shaking. Not from heartbreak. But from sheer disgust. Dominic clearly misread my reaction. He reached out and patted my head affectionately. “Hazel, do you know what I love most about you?” Without waiting for my answer, he whispered, “You’re compliant.” Over the last three years, I had heard those words a thousand times. Compliant, quiet, agreeable. Like a well-behaved pet, but never like a real human being. “Chloe is just an intern. Giving her the promotion is my way of mentoring her. Don’t overthink it. You’re still my fiancée.” He patted my head again, the way one would pat a golden retriever. It reminded me of when I was looking for a job after college. He had casually offered me a spot on his team, and I had accepted, even though I had much better offers at the time. And now, because his new toy pouted and begged, I was shoved into a corner. I was left to be the laughingstock of the office. Disposable. Like trash. “Alright, get some rest. Chloe still doesn’t know how to run the weekly reports. I need to go over to her place and help her out.” Maybe it was the lingering pain of being pushed aside, or maybe it was the final spark of dignity left in me. I suddenly grabbed his wrist. “Can’t you stay tonight?” I asked. Just once. If he stayed, maybe I could pretend he actually cared about me. Dominic paused, a look of mild annoyance crossing his face. “I promised her, Hazel.” But he had promised me a thousand times, too. He promised to go to the hospital with me for my stomach scans. He promised to visit my grandmother’s grave with me. He promised to spend my birthday with me. And he had broken every single one of those promises. “Oh. Okay.” I let go of his hand. My voice was completely flat. For some reason, Dominic grabbed my hand back. He softened his tone. “I’ll bring you that tiramisu you love on my way back tomorrow.” But I hated sweets. With tears threatening to spill from my eyes, I forced another smile. “Thanks.” Dominic didn’t come home that night. The next morning, Chloe updated her Instagram. It was a simple photo of her hand making a peace sign over a rumpled bed. I knew instantly she posted it for me. It was the exact same peace sign she had made when Dominic forced me to pull an all-night shift to fix her mistakes. I had been locked in the conference room, bent double from stomach pain, while she stood over me, smirked, and made that exact gesture. A gesture of pure provocation and insult. “Like a cute little bunny, right?” one coworker commented, referencing her caption. Others in the comments didn’t hold back. “A night like that is worth millions. Who cares about a bunny?” “Spill the tea, is Boss Dominic as good in bed as he is at work?” Chloe replied almost instantly: “Better. Way better! 😉” I stared at the screen, completely numb. I opened my browser and booked an appointment at the local clinic. My stomach had been burning since yesterday. The stress was making my ulcers flare up badly. By the time I reached the clinic, I was break out in a cold sweat. The doctor ran some quick tests and gave me a stern look. “You need to avoid stress and sleep deprivation, Hazel. Your stomach lining is severely inflamed. If you keep this up, you’re looking at internal bleeding.” “I understand. Thank you, Doctor.” I took my prescription and walked out to the lobby, only to run straight into Dominic. He was holding Chloe’s hand. Seeing me, he froze for a fraction of a second, but he didn’t let go of her hand. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “My stomach.” Dominic nodded dismissively. He didn’t ask how I was, or if it was serious. Instead, he sighed. “Chloe cut her finger while organizing some files. I brought her in to get it patched up.” His voice was laced with worry, as if Chloe had just survived a major accident. I looked down at her hand. The cut was so tiny it was barely visible, and it had already clotted. Chloe sniffled, pretending to be annoyed. “It’s all your fault anyway. You kept distracting me while I was trying to work.” Dominic let out a low chuckle, pulling her closer. “Right, right. My bad.” Then, he turned to me. “You should head home first.” I nodded and walked toward the exit. Before I could reach the door, Chloe’s whiny voice echoed behind me. “Look at how pale she is. What if she has something contagious? Dominic, you should really make her do a full medical checkup.” “She had one last year,” Dominic replied. “Last year is last year! I’m just looking out for your health. Why are you being like this?” Dominic sighed lazily. “Fine, fine. I’ll book her an appointment tomorrow.” He said it so casually, like scheduling a vet visit for a sick cat. Chapter

After leaving the clinic, I went straight to my storage unit and dropped off most of my bags. By the time I got back to the apartment, Dominic was already there. And so was Chloe. Chloe greeted me at the door like she was the owner of the place. “Oh, Hazel, you’re back. We ran out of guest slippers, so you’ll have to use these disposable ones.” I looked down. She was wearing my slippers. The ones Dominic had bought for me. My feet were smaller than Chloe’s, so her heels were sticking out of the back of my slippers. It looked ridiculous, but she was wearing them proudly just to mock me. I looked past her into the living room. Dominic was drinking beer with his friends, completely ignoring the situation. I didn’t say a word. I slipped on the cheap paper slippers and walked in. The dining table was covered in food—lobster, crab, oysters. A massive seafood feast. My stomach instantly churned. I was severely allergic to shellfish. Dominic knew this. Dominic finally looked up from his drink. “Why are you just standing there? Sit down and eat.” Chloe picked up a piece of lobster, put it on his plate, and cooed, “Try this, Dominic. It’s so fresh.” Dominic smiled and took a bite, never once looking in my direction. To them, I was invisible. An unwanted guest in my own home. Staring at the table of food that could literally kill me, and watching them laugh and drink, I finally spoke up. “What about me?” The clinking of glasses stopped. Dominic turned to me, his face tight with irritation. “What about you? Just eat. Do I need to spoon-feed you now?” “I’m allergic to shellfish, Dominic.” “Well, that’s your problem. I didn’t know you were coming home for dinner tonight.” Dominic raised his glass and took a long gulp. The atmosphere at the table turned awkward. A few of his friends exchanged glances and tried to smooth things over. “Uh, Hazel, maybe you can just order some UberEats? Or whip up something quick in the kitchen?” “Sure,” I said quietly. I turned and walked back to the bedroom. Behind me, someone let out a loud snort. “Why are you trying to please her? Even Dominic doesn’t give a crap about her.” “I don’t know, man. She looks kind of pitiful.” “Pitiful? More like pathetic. I hate drama queens. An allergy is not that deep. Can’t she just order a pizza and shut up?” “True. I’ve never seen anyone as spineless as Hazel. It’s hilarious.” They didn’t even bother to lower their voices. Dominic sat there, silent, letting them drag me. Which meant he agreed with every word. I looked at the clock. Tomorrow was Monday. I pulled out my last suitcase, walked out of the bedroom, and headed straight for the front door. The laughter in the living room died instantly. Dominic’s face darkened. “Are you really throwing a tantrum right now? Over a dinner?” Chloe stood up, her eyes suddenly pooling with fake tears. “It’s all my fault. Hazel, please don’t leave. I’ll go.” But before she could step forward, Dominic slammed his glass down and stood up. “Don’t move, Chloe. If she wants to leave, let her leave.” One of Dominic’s friends rolled his eyes. “Seriously, it’s just an allergy. Can you stop being so dramatic? Who behaves like this?” “She really thinks she owns this place. Nobody even wants you here, Hazel.” “No wonder she has no family. Who could tolerate a personality like that?” I froze. Holding back the sharp pain in my stomach, I slowly turned to look at Dominic. His face was cold, devoid of any warmth. He stared at me and said, word for word: “If you walk out that door tonight, don’t ever think about coming back.” Even now, his first instinct was to threaten me. I couldn’t tell if what I felt was relief or freedom. I let out a soft laugh, turned the knob, and stepped out into the night. Behind me, a loud crash echoed as Dominic threw his favorite bottle of Macallan against the wall. Chapter

After a long silence, Dominic cursed under his breath. He kicked the door open and ran out into the hallway. But I was already gone. His friends, realizing things had gone too far, muttered cautiously, “Hey, Dominic… should I go cruise around and bring her back?” Dominic stared into the empty, dark hallway, a sudden tightness squeezing his chest. He hadn’t expected me to actually have the nerve to leave. But his ego quickly took over. He let out a cold laugh. “Don’t bother. She’ll be begging to come back in three days.” “Besides, she has to show up at the office tomorrow anyway.” While I was checking into a hotel, Chloe sent me an audio recording of that exact conversation. Her text message was dripping with malice. “If you actually have some pride, don’t ever come back.” “But we both know you won’t. You love Dominic’s money and status too much to let go. Even if nobody wants you here, you’ll crawl back like a desperate dog.” I knew she was trying to get under my skin. She wanted me to disappear so she could take my place. It was almost funny. I wanted to tell her she didn’t need to try so hard. Instead, I blocked her number. Then, I opened my chat with Dominic and sent him a simple text. “We are done. Do not contact me again.” After sending it, I shut off my phone and called an Uber to meet Ethan. Ethan was waiting for me. He looked sharp, wearing a tailored suit. He stared at me for a few seconds before stepping forward and pulling me into a tight hug. “It’s been so long, Hazel. I missed you so much.” I hugged him back, burying my face in his shoulder. “I missed you too.” Ethan’s main headquarters was in San Francisco. We had flights booked for tonight. But first, I needed to drop off my signed resignation letter at Dominic’s office. Once that was done, Ethan took me to our old college campus for a walk. Meanwhile, back at the apartment, Dominic woke up with a brutal hangover and saw my text. He scoffed, tossing his phone onto the bed. “Oh, please. She thinks a breakup text is going to scare me into chasing her?” His friends, who were still crashed on his couch, laughed. “Hazel sent that?” “Obviously! She just wants you to go play her little games. Girls always do this.” The tension in Dominic’s chest eased. He smirked, looking smug. “Maybe I’ll call her when I’m in a better mood. Once I—” BBefore he could finish his sentence, one of his friends gasped, staring at his phone. “Wait… isn’t this Hazel’s ex? Why is she posting photos with him?”

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My newborn baby sister fell gravely ill right after she was born. A passing clairvoyant told my mother that it was because I was the vessel of a dark entity. He said the only way for my sister to survive was for me to go on a strict spiritual fast, praying for a hundred days. To save my sister, they fed me nothing but a small plate of boiled greens every day. I was so starved that I kept blacking out. One day, I fell to my knees, begging them for just a scoop of mashed potatoes or a slice of bread. But Mom kicked me hard, shoving me into the small pantry under the stairs, and locked the door from the outside. “You really are a monster, aren’t you? You know your sister’s life depends on this, yet you’re still trying to cheat? Are you doing this on purpose?” “It’s just a simple fast and a few prayers, Hazel! How hard can it be? Lily only has a few days left to get through this. Can you stop being so incredibly selfish for once?” But Mom, my stomach hurts so bad. I think I’m dying.

My limbs felt like they were filled with lead. Through the heavy wooden door, I heard Dad’s hesitant voice. “Eleanor… maybe we should let her out to eat something? Just a little bit?” “No!” Mom’s voice was sharp, laced with panic. “How can you softhearted now, David? Did you forget what happened a few days ago? She snuck a piece of turkey, and Lily had a life-threatening fever in the middle of the night!” I knew exactly what night she was talking about. A few days ago. During my fast, I was so dizzy from hunger that I dragged myself to the kitchen and took a tiny bite of leftover meat from the fridge. Mom caught me. She broke down in tears on the spot, crying hysterically. Dad rushed in and slapped me across the face so hard I hit the linoleum floor. Blood dripped from my nose, staining the prayer book on the counter. That night, I was locked in the pantry to “reflect on my sins.” When they finally let me out the next morning, the pain in my stomach was so agonizing I couldn’t even stand up straight. “She is a curse! She knew she would hurt her sister, yet she still snuck out to eat! She did it on purpose!” Mom’s voice had been freezing cold. Leaning against the pantry door now, I didn’t even have the strength to shake my head. No, Mom. I was just so, so hungry. I understood they were terrified of losing baby Lily. But why did they have to treat me like the enemy? I wasn’t a demon. I was their daughter, too… I tapped my weak knuckles against the door, over and over. I wanted to tell them I couldn’t hold on much longer. “Eleanor, the pediatrician said Lily’s illness is just a standard infant infection,” Dad’s voice drifted in, carrying a sliver of doubt. “What if that spiritual medium was just a fraud? We can’t keep Hazel locked up like this—” Mom cut him off instantly. “Shut up! What do you know? I knew something was wrong with Hazel the moment she was born. She was too quiet, and her eyes were so cold. Marcus said there’s a dark energy inside her, feeding on Lily’s life force!” She then turned toward the pantry door, her tone hardening into steel. “Hazel, stop acting. I know you can hear me. Just stay in there quietly. Once the hundred days are over, the bad energy inside you will be purged, and we can go back to being a normal family, okay?” I couldn’t squeeze a single word out of my throat. My stomach felt like it was being ripped apart by rusty knives. The pain in my chest was suffocating. Using every ounce of life left in me, I struck the door one last time. Mom stormed over and kicked the door from the outside. “Hazel! What kind of stunt are you pulling now? Do I need to teach you another lesson?” She unlocked the door and threw it open. A crack of warm light spilled into the darkness of the pantry. My heart flared with a desperate spark of hope— Am I saved?

“Mom.” A hand gently grabbed Mom’s wrist. It was Ethan. My older brother, who used to protect me from everything when we were kids. He stood at the pantry door, his eyebrows slightly knitted in annoyance. “Hazel is just being stubborn. The more you yell at her, the more she’s going to resist.” He sighed, turning his eyes toward the dark pantry. “Hazel, I know this sucks. But Lily is a baby; she can’t handle any setbacks. Just hang in there a little longer, okay? Once this week is over, I’ll take you out to McDonald’s and buy you whatever you want.” There was no reply from inside. I couldn’t move. My body was curled on the cold floor, like a wounded animal seeking a dark corner to die. The dried blood from my forehead had sealed one of my eyes shut. Cold sweat mixed with warm, sticky fluid ran down my cheek. I stared blankly at the crack of the door. *Mom, please. Just look down.* *Just a little bit more.* *And you would see me.* But— The light vanished. The door slammed shut, and the lock clicked. I heard Ethan sigh softly on the other side. “Don’t worry, Hazel. As soon as Lily gets better, I’ll convince Mom and Dad to let you rest. I’ll buy you anything you want to eat.” Their footsteps faded away. They all left. The pantry plunged into a terrifying, absolute silence. I lay frozen on the floor. And my chest stopped moving. *Mom.* *You were so close.* *You could have saved me.* In the darkness, my soul drifted out of my cold shell. I saw them gathered around Lily’s white crib in the nursery. Mom was tucking Lily in with a soft blanket, while Dad carefully fed her a bottle of formula. Ethan was organizing the blessed silver crosses and lavender satchels around the room. They all had relaxed, hopeful smiles on their faces. Only I was left behind, locked in that cramped pantry, transforming into a silent, frozen statue. *Dad. Mom.* *Lily’s life was everything to you.* *But what about mine?* My spirit followed them to the spiritual temple the next day. Everyone was praying devoutly. Only Dad looked restless, constantly checking his watch. When the service finally ended, he practically begged Mom as they walked to the parking lot. “I’m really worried about Hazel, Eleanor. She was too weak to sleep last night, and she didn’t eat anything this morning. We need to go home and check on her!” Mom frowned, her face tightening. “Check on what? She’s missed a couple of meals. Is her attitude more important than Lily’s life?” Dad clenched his fists, his voice shaking with desperation. He grabbed Mom’s arm, but she slapped him across the face. Mom’s eyes grew red, her voice cracking with emotion. “These last few days are the most critical! If we mess up now, does that mean all of Hazel’s sacrifices were for nothing?” “Just stay here and keep praying. I’ll drive back to get our insulated thermoses and check on her while I’m there.” Dad finally let out a sigh of relief. Mom drove back to our suburban house. She grabbed the thermoses from the kitchen island. Then, she walked over to the pantry door. Her voice softened slightly, though it was still laced with deep suspicion. “Hazel, I know you’re listening. Just behave yourself. Don’t try any tricks. Once the fast is over and the dark energy is gone, I’ll let you out, okay?” Silence. Mom’s expression darkened. “Hazel.” She lowered her voice, spitting the words through her teeth. “When are you going to stop this drama? Do you think I don’t know what you’re doing? Every time you scream about your stomach hurting or being hungry, you’re just acting. You want us to feel guilty so we’ll let you out, so you can ruin Lily’s recovery, don’t you?” She banged heavily on the wooden door. But then, she stopped. Frowning, she muttered to herself, “Why is she so quiet? Is she planning something?” She grabbed the brass doorknob and turned it. The door swung open slightly. The hem of my oversized yellow pajama shirt was visible in the crack.

Just then, Dad’s call rang through Mom’s phone. “Eleanor! Lily just woke up and she’s crying for you. Did you check on Hazel?” Mom hesitated for two seconds, then let go of the doorknob. “We’ll deal with Hazel after the final prayer,” she said to the phone, turning on her heel and walking away. Inside the pantry, my lifeless body was propped against the door, one hand still frozen in a claw-like shape, as if trying to knock. Floating in the air, I watched her retreating back in absolute despair. *Mom, you were just one step away.* *If you had just pushed the door open, you would have found my corpse.* That night. Knowing I was still locked up, Dad waited until Mom fell into a deep sleep, then crept downstairs to the pantry door. He whispered through the wood. “Hazel, I hid the spare key under the welcome mat by the front door. Grab it and get yourself something to eat!” “I left some chicken soup on the kitchen counter for you. I know your stomach is sensitive, so make sure to microwave it first!” Dad always remembered. He knew I had chronic gastritis. Over the years, whenever Mom locked me in my room or the pantry, Dad would sneak food to me when she wasn’t looking. He had even bought me a giant plush teddy bear and placed it in the pantry. Inside the bear’s zippered belly, he would hide packets of Oreos and crackers. I floated over and looked at the plush bear. Its belly was bulging. Dad had stuffed it with cookies again. *But I’m so sorry, Dad.* *I can’t eat them anymore.* The next morning. Dad woke up and immediately checked his phone. There was no reply to the text messages he had sent me. Panicking, he found Mom in the kitchen. “I texted Hazel about the key, but she hasn’t replied. What if she passed out from starvation?” “Don’t you have the security camera app linked to the pantry nanny-cam? Open it! Let me see how she is!” Mom rolled her eyes. “She’s playing mind games with you, David. She wants you to break the rules so she can bring the bad luck back to Lily.” Still, she pulled out her iPhone. She tapped the security app. The live stream of the pantry loaded on the screen. In the video, my back was turned toward the camera. Dad shoved his face close to the screen. “Hazel! The key is under the mat! There’s warm soup in the kitchen, please eat something. Don’t starve yourself!” No response. Mom frowned. “Hazel, if you’ve learned your lesson, just open the door and eat. Stop worrying your father.” But the figure on the screen remained completely motionless. Dad’s voice began to crack with terror. “Hazel? Are you sick? Please, just turn around and look at me. Just let me see your face!” Mom’s expression shifted slightly. She pinched the screen to zoom in. In the dim, grainy night-vision feed, I was curled up in the corner. My body was bent tight, like a dead shrimp. Mom stared at the image for a few seconds. Then, she let out a cold, mocking laugh. “Another one of her tantrums. She loves playing the victim.” When I was younger, I used to curl up like that to get her attention when she ignored me. She thought I was doing it again. “Hazel, we told you where the key is. If you want to act like a civilized human being, get out of there and eat! Stop trying to ruin your sister’s blessing!” Mom locked her phone and tossed it onto the granite island. I let out a bitter, silent laugh.

*Mom, if you had just zoomed in for three more seconds, if you had just looked closer…* *You would have seen that my chest wasn’t rising.* *I wasn’t throwing a tantrum. I was dead.* *We were so close to the end, and you still didn’t see me.* Finally, the hundredth day arrived. The final prayer was completed. Dad was the first one to bolt out of the chapel. “The spiritualist said the curse is broken! Lily is safe! Let’s get home and tell Hazel the good news!” “She’s been alone in that house for so long. She must be terrified.” Sitting in the passenger seat, Mom’s eyes welled with tears. “I know I was too harsh on Hazel. But I had no choice, David. The entity inside her was too strong. Now that she’s purified, she can finally be our sweet, normal daughter again.” Floating above them in the SUV, I smiled. It was a smile more painful than crying. *Dad, Mom.* *I waited one hundred days for this day.* *But I couldn’t make it to the finish line.* The car pulled into the driveway. Dad ran to the front door, unlocking it and throwing it open. But then, he froze. His eyes fell on the kitchen island. The bowl of chicken soup he had left out was untouched, covered in a thick layer of green mold. His voice began to tremble violently. “Hazel… she hasn’t eaten in days…” Mom froze for a fraction of a second, her face turning pale. But then, anger took over. She stormed to the pantry door and banged her fist against it. “Hazel! What do you want from us?! Are you trying to destroy this family?!” “Do you have any idea what we went through these past few days? We barely slept, trying to find spiritual guidance to save you! And what did you do? You went on a hunger strike to spite us? To make us feel like monsters?!” Dad grabbed her shoulders, his voice cracking. “Hazel wouldn’t do this! Eleanor, something is wrong!” Mom’s expression stiffened. Just then, the front door opened, and Ethan walked in. He held his phone in his hand, looking incredibly confused. “Mom, Dad, a police officer just stopped me on the driveway. He said a neighbor called 911 because they heard weird noises coming from our house a few days ago.” He looked toward the pantry. “Hazel, did you call the cops on us? Why would you do that?” Hearing this, Mom snapped. “Hazel! You called the police?! You want to ruin this family that badly?! You wouldn’t even pray for your baby sister, and now you want to drag us to jail?!” Dad’s face turned dark and disappointed. “Your sister is just a baby, Hazel. And you brought the cops to our door? You want the whole neighborhood to think we’re criminals?” “Hazel, what is wrong with you?!” They stood there, judging me, condemning me. But the pantry remained dead silent. Mom’s eyes were bloodshot. “I’m done with this!” she screamed, lunging for the door handle.

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The day Mason cheated on me, I took the Swiss Army knife he had gifted me and slashed my stepsister’s face open. After I went to prison, our marriage was automatically annulled. He finally gave my stepsister the grand, lavish wedding of her dreams. Three years later, I was released. Mason hired twenty security guards to keep a constant, paranoid watch on her. He set up fifty traps, desperate to throw me back behind bars. He even used a hundred middle managers to pass along a message: I could name any price, as long as I promised never to hurt Amber again. But he was overthinking it. Like a single drop of water merging into the ocean, I simply vanished from his life. Our next meeting was at my auto repair shop. I spit out the gum I was chewing, popped open the hood of his car with grease-stained fingers, and asked calmly, “How old is this ride?” He clenched his jaw so hard I could hear it. He squeezed the words out of his throat: “Valerie, this car was the very first gift you ever bought me.”

My hand holding the wrench paused for a fraction of a second. “Oh. Then it’s been a while. It’s due for a major overhaul.” My tone was too flat, completely devoid of emotion. Mason froze, his mouth opening and closing, but no sound came out. I tapped and checked every single bolt with my wrench, meticulous and focused. It was as if the dazzling yellow sports car in front of me was no different from the thousands of other beat-up sedans I had repaired. Perhaps the sharp clink of metal against metal grated on his nerves. Mason’s expression shifted several times before he finally forced a mocking sneer: “Valerie, if you’re short on cash, you can just call me directly.” “There’s no need to scatter nails on the road just to lure me to this godforsaken place to watch you perform.” I chuckled, chatting as casually as I would with any random customer. “If I were a good actress, I’d be in Hollywood by now.” “You came from 3rd Avenue, right? The local news mentioned this morning that a hardware truck spilled its cargo of steel nails there yesterday. You have to be careful.” As I spoke, I grabbed a rag from the counter and wiped the black grease from my hands. Mason’s eyes locked onto the rag. It was once pink, but now it was washed out to a dingy gray, the edges frayed and threadbare. He finally lost his temper, his voice rising: “Valerie, you used to be as proud as a swan.” “Claustrophobia, OCD, germaphobia—you had every single symptom of a spoiled rich girl. If a speck of dust landed on your high heels, you’d spend half an hour cleaning it. If there was a single oil spot on the dining table, you’d fire the maid on the spot…” “And look at you now…” “Hey, Val! Can you check my car? The AC is blowing hot air!” With a loud, cheerful shout, the glass door of the shop swung open. Mrs. Higgins, wearing a bright floral shirt, walked in and tossed her car keys into my hand. “You got it, Mrs. Higgins. Leave it here, I’ll check it out in a bit,” I said, catching the keys. “It probably just needs a freon recharge. Easy fix.” “Great, I’ll leave you to it.” She patted my shoulder warmly, then glanced at Mason. She lowered her voice. “You have a customer? I’ll get out of your hair then. Talk to you later!” After waving goodbye to Mrs. Higgins, I realized I still had a client waiting. I offered Mason a polite, professional smile. “Right, Mr. Miller. Your car is good to go. That’ll be twenty bucks.” “You…” Mason stared at me blankly. It took him a long time to utter that single word, as if he lacked the strength to say anything else. Instead, he hurriedly pulled out his phone, searching for a QR code to scan. When I saw the $500 notification on my screen, I waved my hands immediately. “Mr. Miller, you overpaid. Let me send the change back to you.” As I spoke, I instinctively opened Snapchat to find his contact. Then I remembered. The day I was sent to prison, he had blocked me on everything. Slightly embarrassed, I scratched my head. “Well, this is awkward. Mr. Miller, could you show me your Venmo QR code instead?” “Didn’t you… didn’t you say the car needed a major overhaul?” Mason’s expression was incredibly complex. “Check the other parts for me. Is this enough?” I smiled, genuinely pleased. “More than enough. It’s plenty. Please, have a seat while you wait.” I grabbed a small, folding camp stool from the corner and pushed it toward him. Looking at his perfectly tailored designer suit, I found a relatively clean cloth and laid it over the stool for him. Mason remained silent for a long time before gingerly sitting down. He sat elegantly, hands resting on his knees, looking entirely out of place. A second later, the squeak of the glass door startled him. “Hey, Val! Still working during lunch? Business must be booming! No wonder you ordered the double-entree lunch special today.” “Whoa, a luxury sports car. We’ve got a VIP client today!” It was Toby, the delivery guy who brought me lunch every day. I laughed and traded a few jokes with him before taking the paper bag from his hands. Hearing himself called a “VIP,” Mason shifted uncomfortably, turning his head slightly and letting out a quiet sigh. But there was nothing I could do about it. The neighborhood was just like this. Chloe, who owned the nail salon next door, ran in to ask if I wanted to grab hotpot with her tonight. A young guy from the upstairs apartment came down dragging a heavy suitcase, asking if he could leave it in my shop until he got back tonight. A high school girl rushed in, frantically asking if I had a portable charger she could borrow. Their eyes were full of curiosity, lingering on Mason’s expensive suit and striking looks. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, Mason crossed his legs and shifted on the tiny stool. “Valerie, have you really degraded yourself to this point? Hanging out with… these lowlifes?”

His eyes looked slightly red, though I might have been mistaken. After sewing uniforms in a federal prison for three years, my eyes tended to play tricks on me. “The car is in great shape,” I said, straightening up and wiping the sweat from my forehead with my elbow. “But the brake pads are a bit worn. You should get them replaced. My shop is too small to carry OEM parts, so you’ll have to go to an authorized dealership.” I pointed him in the direction of the nearest dealership and immediately opened my lunchbox. Orange chicken, beef stir-fry, and some greasy veggies—all my favorites. But even as I snapped my wooden chopsticks apart, Mason made no move to leave. Confused, I thought about it for a second and pushed the takeout box toward him. “Are you hungry, Mr. Miller? If you don’t mind, you can have some.” Mason’s gaze flickered. His eyes lingered on the black grease permanently stained under my fingernails, then drifted to the shiny, oily food in the box. When he spoke, his voice was raspy: “This is all cheap, processed microwave food. It’s unhealthy… You never used to eat this.” In his memory, I was a picky eater who only ate organic salads and fresh sashimi. If the food was even slightly un-fresh, I would spend the night throwing up in the bathroom. I smiled. “Well, prison food doesn’t have much flavor, and now I do manual labor all day. It cured all my spoiled habits.” “Every takeout place uses pre-made ingredients nowadays. Their spicy chicken is actually really good. You should try some, Mr. Miller.” “Oh, look! They even threw in an extra packet of chili oil today. What a steal!” I happily took the chili oil packet and tossed it into a plastic storage bin behind me. The bin was already half-full of free condiment packets. On tight days, buying a loaf of bread and using these was enough to get by. Mason suddenly stood up, his voice thick with emotion: “Stop it!” I froze, startled by his sudden outburst. In the next second, he threw a black card onto the counter. “This is my secondary card. Take it.” He moved so abruptly that he knocked over the small camp stool and almost flipped my lunchbox. Fortunately, my reflexes were quick. I leaned to the side and shielded my precious orange chicken. “Mr. Miller,” I said, feeling a bit helpless. “If you’re not going to eat, I’d like to finish my lunch…” “Valerie!” Mason growled, his voice trembling with suppressed rage. “I’m serious!” “This card is linked to my platinum account. It has a five-million-dollar limit. Use it however you want.” “Buy a nice storefront. Start a real, clean business. Be your own boss. Stop staying in this filthy hole working as a grease monkey!” “You used to be an elite skier from a wealthy family! Have you forgotten who you are?!” His roaring words echoed in the small shop, instantly dragging me back into the past. My family indeed used to be incredibly wealthy. My father was one of the top venture capitalists in Seattle. I was the pampered, only daughter of a billionaire family until I was seven, when my mother got pregnant with twin girls. But just as we were happily anticipating the arrival of my baby sisters, my father’s affair came to light. He fell head over heels for a mixed-race model, loving her with a passion that defied all logic. It got so bad that the mistress literally showed up at our house, demanding my mother sign the divorce papers. My mother was a proud, fiery woman. A fierce argument broke out. In the chaos, I saw with my own eyes that woman extending her long, red manicured nails, grabbing my mother by the throat, and shoving her down the grand spiral staircase. One mother, two unborn babies. Dead on impact. Afterward, to force me to change my police statement, my father locked me in the basement and beat me for a day and a night. His abuse eventually bought his mistress’s acquittal. They got married. The mistress brought her own daughter from a previous marriage—my stepsister, Amber. And so, my living nightmare began. The beatings, the verbal abuse, the false accusations, the non-stop bullying. To survive, I fled to Switzerland. I trained like a madwoman, became a competitive skier, and took the sports world by storm. Back then, Mason was studying at a prestigious business school in Zurich. After catching a glimpse of me on a live broadcast, he became my most devoted fan. Every time I crossed the finish line, he would be in the front row of the stands, holding a giant banner with my name, screaming at the top of his lungs. When a corrupt referee unfairly disqualified me, he led a protest with his classmates through the Swiss streets just to demand justice for me. He was there to comfort me through my injuries, and he encouraged me through my darkest lows. Finally, when I crossed the finish line in first place at the championships, I unbuckled my skis and ran straight toward him in the stands. Amidst the swirling confetti and the roaring crowd, under the gaze of thousands, I hugged him tightly. The dynamic of idol and fan ended there. He became my publicly acknowledged boyfriend. But I never could have imagined that on the night of my victory, as we strolled down a quiet Swiss street, two armed muggers would jump us from the shadows. They wanted our money and watches. To protect me, Mason immediately lunged at them, getting into a brutal fight. I was terrified. Fearing he would get hurt, I threw myself into the scuffle without a second thought. In the chaotic frenzy, a gunshot echoed. A bullet pierced my chest. It didn’t kill me, but it collapsed my lung and scraped past my heart. From that day on, I could never participate in any extreme sports again. Including skiing. But I never regretted it. Mason was the love of my life. His safety was far more important than any trophy. I could have won a hundred gold medals, but I only had one Mason. As I lay in the hospital bed, weakly holding his hand and whispering those words to him, he wept uncontrollably, burying his face in my chest. “Valerie, let’s go back to the States. My family has deep connections in both politics and business. No matter what you want to do next, I will back you up to the end!” Mason was that kind of man. He wasn’t good with sweet words, but he showed his love through action. Filled with hope and joy, I held his hand as we flew back home. At the airport, we were met by Amber. The moment she saw the wealthy young heir standing next to me, her eyes widened in shock, but she quickly masked it with a brilliant, sweet smile. It reminded me so much of her gold-digging mother standing next to my father. Their smiles had the exact same, calculating curve. And that dark premonition quickly became reality.

I don’t know when it started, but Mason began mentioning Amber more and more. At first, he said she was sweet and obedient. Then, he said she was pitiful, living under another family’s roof. Eventually, it became: “Valerie, stop bullying Amber all the time.” I wanted to have a serious talk with him, but it coincided with the anniversary of my mother and sisters’ deaths. I had to focus on the memorial service first. But when I returned home from the cemetery, I witnessed a scene that would haunt me for the rest of my life. Mason and Amber, those two disgusting hypocrites, were lying naked on my white bedsheets, tangled together in passion. “Hehe, Mason, why didn’t you go to your future mother-in-law’s memorial today?” “What mother-in-law?… A dead woman from the countryside doesn’t deserve that title… If I had to choose a mother-in-law, I’d choose yours…” A loud buzzing filled my ears. I completely lost my mind. I charged into the room like a feral animal, grabbing the knife on the nightstand and swinging. The blade sliced right across Amber’s beautiful, flawless face. Her blood-curdling screams still echo in my mind. Honestly, it was incredibly satisfying. After the incident, considering I was the victim of a betrayal, the judge initially wanted to give me a suspended sentence. But Mason hired the most expensive legal team in the country, even bribing witnesses to commit perjury, just to ensure I received a solid three-year prison sentence. Time flies. It has been seven years since I was released from prison. I exhaled slowly, quietly studying the man standing before me. It must be nice to be rich. Time hadn’t left a single mark on this handsome man’s face. But it had gifted me with cracked skin on my hands, a chin-length haircut for convenience, and grease permanently embedded under my nails. I gently pushed the black card back to him. “There’s no need, Mr. Miller. I’m doing quite well now.” “I have food, shelter, and my freedom. I’m not stealing or begging. I earn my living with my own two hands.” “I’m just an ordinary citizen. No great wealth, but no great tragedies either.” But Mason stubbornly kept his hand extended. “Just take it… as my compensation to you. Once you take the money, let go of your resentment. We’ll be even.” I looked at him, slightly amused. The arrogant young master of the Miller family had actually learned how to compensate someone. In the past, he never bowed his head to anyone. “That’s even less necessary. I saved your life because you were my boyfriend at the time, and I went to prison because I voluntarily assaulted someone. That’s just justice.” “Neither of us owes the other anything.” Mason clenched his fists, his eyes locking onto mine. It was as if he was trying to confirm, over and over again, that the woman standing in front of him was indeed Valerie. Finally, his head dropped slowly, and a faint glint of moisture appeared in the corners of his eyes. “Valerie… you’ve become such a stranger.” I glanced at the clock on the wall. “We haven’t seen each other in years. It’s only natural.” “Back then… I just lost control of my emotions for a moment,” he stammered, his voice cracking. “For all these years, I’ve been thinking… if you hadn’t impulsively committed that crime, I would have married you out of guilt. I would have treated you a thousand times better…” I remained silent, letting the ticking of the clock stretch the quiet into infinity. “Everyone has their own path to walk.” I pulled a lollipop from my pocket, peeled off the wrapper, and popped it into my mouth. “Never regret what you’ve done, and never look back.” “You—” Mason was choked up by my simple words. After a long pause, he said half-angrily: “One thing about you hasn’t changed. You’re still as stubborn as a rock!” I nodded cheerfully. “My neighbors say the same thing. They call it persistence.” “Valerie!” Mason clenched his fists. After hesitating for a long time, he suddenly called me by my old nickname. I dazed for a moment. The way he pronounced those syllables was exactly the same as before. Seeing me space out, his voice softened: “If you won’t accept my money, I can talk to your father for you. You probably don’t know, but Arthur has late-stage pancreatic cancer. The doctors say he doesn’t have much time left.” “If you ask for his forgiveness now, you can still get a share of the inheritance. It’ll be enough for you to live luxuriously for the rest of your life…” “Really?” I smiled genuinely. “Karma finally caught up to him.” Having his suggestions shut down repeatedly, Mason finally snapped. He grabbed my arm, trying to drag me toward his sports car. “Valerie, how long are you going to keep up this stubborn act?!” “Look at yourself! Look at what you’ve become!” “Renting a tiny, dark apartment, doing this filthy, exhausting manual labor!” “Eating greasy, cheap takeout, getting excited over a thirty-cent condiment packet!” “Do you think living like this makes you look cool? Or unique? Do you think it’s attractive?” “You’re just a low-class mechanic! The absolute bottom of society!” I looked down at myself—my overalls were covered in grease, my hair was tied in a messy ponytail, and there was probably dirt on my face. I argued back honestly: “It’s not that bad. At least I still have a clean, scar-free face. Unlike some people…” As if his tail had been stepped on, Mason’s face flushed red, and he practically jumped: “Amber has had reconstructive surgery! It’s completely fixed! Even though there are scars, she can cover them with makeup!” “But you? You smell like motor oil, and your hands are as rough as sandpaper! What man could ever stand you?!” Getting increasingly emotional, he started swinging his expensive Hermès bag at me as if to beat some sense into me. Right then, the glass door creaked open again. A boy and a girl, like two little rockets, came bursting into the shop…

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On the day of my wedding dress fitting, my fiancé’s childhood friend pointed at my open-back dress and burst out laughing. “Oh, Nina, isn’t this dress a bit too conservative for you? It doesn’t really match your wild style on *OnlyFans*, does it?” “Especially that red mole on your waist. It’s a carbon copy of the girl in that viral video—you know, the one who slept with three guys in one night.” I pulled the curtain shut, looking at her with cold eyes. “You looked quite closely, Lily. Did that girl also have my last name?” Lily looked terrified, instantly shrinking into my fiancé’s arms, trembling. “I’m sorry, Harrison. I just didn’t want you to be kept in the dark and marry a dirty woman.” Harrison’s face went completely black. He violently shook off my hand, wiping his palm on his pants as if I were a piece of garbage. “Nina, you make me sick. Take off that filthy dress right now!” Lily smirked, sticking her tongue out slightly before clinging to Harrison’s arm again. “Exactly. A sacred wedding dress is only meant for pure, innocent girls.” Just as Harrison reached out to tear the dress off me. The fitting room door was kicked open with a loud bang. My best friend, Chloe, who had literally just transmigrated back from a web novel world, stood there holding a shiny aluminum baseball bat. “Let’s see who dares to touch her. That girl in the video—isn’t it yourself, Lily?” **1** The metal bat slammed into the fitting mirror. With a deafening crash, the glass shattered. Shards flew everywhere, some slicing right through Harrison’s designer suit. Harrison froze, instantly releasing his grip on me. Chloe rested the bat in her palm, tapping it lightly. She tilted her chin, staring him down. “Well, aren’t we powerful, Harrison? Tearing a woman’s clothes off—is this the famous Cole family upbringing?” The store clerks outside didn’t dare to move or make a sound. I rubbed the red marks on my wrists. Harrison’s neck flushed red. He took a step back, eyeing Chloe’s bat, and growled, “This is between me and Nina! It’s none of your business! With the kind of dirty things she did, me not beating her up right here is already showing respect to her family!” Lily crept out from the corner, hiding behind Harrison, clutching his shirt. Tears welled up in her eyes. “Chloe, how could you treat Harrison like this…” Lily pointed at the lace cutout on my waist, where a small red mole sat. “I know you two are close, but the evidence is right there! The girl in that video has the exact same mole in the exact same spot! Nina made that kind of video just for money… she has no self-respect!” The people around us started whispering. “You really can’t judge a book by its cover. She looks like such an elegant designer, but in private…” “I’ve seen that site. She was really wild.” “Poor Harrison. His head is practically a forest of green.” Their judgmental stares landed on my bare back. I looked at Lily. I had sponsored her college tuition, brought her into the fashion industry, and in return, I reared a venomous snake. Just as I was about to speak, Harrison roared. The murmurs of the crowd made him lose all face. He didn’t want to investigate, nor did he want to protect me. “Nina! Haven’t you embarrassed me enough?” Harrison pointed his finger right at my nose, spitting as he yelled, his eyes filled with pure disgust. “I don’t care if it’s real or fake! As long as people are talking about it, you are dirty! The Cole family will never accept a stained bride! Now, take off that dress and get the hell out of here! Don’t let your filth ruin my eyes!” The last shred of my affection for him evaporated. This was the man I had loved for ten years. Easily swayed, double-standard, and always ready to sacrifice me to save his own face. Chloe raised her bat again. I put my hand on her arm. Chloe turned her head, her brows knitted tight. I shook my head. If we were going to end this, we were going to end it completely. I turned around, walked to the workstation, and picked up a heavy pair of tailor’s shears. Harrison took a step back, staring at me. “What are you doing? Have you lost your mind?” Lily shrieked, burying her face in Harrison’s chest. “Nina, don’t be reckless! Murder is a felony!” I looked down at this wedding dress. It had taken me three months to hand-sew it. I raised the shears and sliced down. *Rip!* The sharp sound of lace tearing and silk ripping echoed through the room. I didn’t stop. The train, the corset, the hand-beaded embroidery… Within minutes, the dress was reduced to a pile of shredded rags on the floor. I tossed the shears aside with a loud clang. Wearing only the ruined lining of the dress, I stepped over the fabric and looked up at him. “You’re right, Harrison.” I stared into his stunned face. “I don’t want filthy things either.” I grabbed Chloe’s hand and walked out. As we passed Lily, I paused. “Nice performance, Lily. Let’s hope your stage stays standing for a long, long time.” Lily’s body stiffened, but she quickly put back on her terrified face. Outside, the sun was shining brightly. We got into the car. Chloe threw the baseball bat into the back seat, slammed her foot on the gas, and the car roared forward. Neither of us spoke for a long time. Finally, Chloe broke the silence. “It’s an AI face-swap.” I leaned against the headrest, looking out the window. “I know.” Chloe glanced at me. “No, you don’t. This isn’t just a simple face-swap; it’s a plot. The original footage was filmed by Lily when she was studying abroad. She swapped her face with yours. In the original storyline of this world, you would be ruined, kicked out by the Cole family, and eventually die of severe depression.” I used to not believe in things like “storylines,” but looking at Harrison’s disgusting face today, I believed it. “A storyline?” Chloe gripped the steering wheel tighter. “But I’m back now, Nina. This time, I won’t let you lose.” I looked down at the calluses on my fingers. If Lily wanted to play, I would play with her until the very end. “Chloe.” “Yeah?” “Find the source of that video. And I want to know exactly how ‘colorful’ Lily’s life abroad really was.” Chloe let out a cold laugh. “Already on it.” The car entered a tunnel, and the world around us went dark. *** **2** My phone buzzed incessantly in my palm, the screen flashing non-stop. On my Snapchat and Instagram, the direct messages were a sea of red notifications, stuck at 999+. Lily had moved fast. Less than two hours after we left the bridal boutique, an edited video was trending at the bottom of the hot search list. The footage was heavily edited, showing only Chloe pointing a bat at Harrison, and me aggressively shredding my wedding dress. The caption read: *“Billionaire’s Bride-to-Be Caught in Wild Sex Scandal, Freaks Out After Engagement Canceled.”* The comment section was filled with paid bots and angry keyboard warriors. Photoshopped funeral pictures of me flooded my feed. My design sketches were defaced with hateful slurs. “She looks so elegant, but she’s such a slut in private.” “Why isn’t this woman dead yet?” “I heard she’s a designer? Who would dare wear her clothes? You’d catch an STD.” I swiped through the screen, taking screenshots of the most active accounts. *Thud!* The front door was kicked open, slamming hard against the wall. Harrison’s mother, Eleanor, stormed in with disheveled hair, with Lily trailing meekly behind her. Just as I stood up. *Slap!* My face whipped to the side. My ears rang, and the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. I pressed my tongue against my cheek and looked at Eleanor. “You shameless bitch! You’ve dragged the Cole family name through the dirt!” Eleanor pointed at my face, her massive emerald ring almost scratching my eyes. “I never wanted you in our family! If Harrison hadn’t insisted, you wouldn’t even be fit to wipe our shoes! Now that video is everywhere, and the whole city is laughing at us!” Lily held Eleanor’s arm, gently patting her back. “Please calm down, Eleanor… Nina probably just made a mistake. She did it for the money…” “Money? Did the Cole family ever starve her?” Eleanor roared. “Nina, return the $500,000 engagement fund immediately! And every single piece of jewelry and designer bag Harrison bought you—spit them all out! Issue a public statement admitting that this was entirely your moral failure and has nothing to do with the Coles!” I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth and looked at Lily. She was smirking behind Eleanor’s back. The living room was filled only with Eleanor’s shrill screaming. Lily went to get a glass of water, leaning in close to me as she passed. Her perfume was sickeningly sweet. “Does your face hurt, Nina?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “The video might be fake, but Harrison believes it. Look at you now. Where is that proud designer attitude? I honestly can’t wait to see you completely destroyed.” With that, she quickly took two steps back, shrinking her shoulders to look weak. My phone rang in my pocket. It was Harrison. Right in front of them, I picked up and hit record. Harrison’s voice blasted through the speaker. “Nina, my mom is at your place, right? Don’t blame her for her temper. You went too far this time.” “For the sake of our ten years together, I’ll give you one last chance.” “Go to the hospital and get a virginity check and a full STD screening. Show me the clean report, and I won’t cancel the wedding.” He paused. Hearing no response from me, he continued, “But you can’t be my legal wife anymore. Lily is pure and innocent; she can’t be subjected to this humiliation. Lily will be my legal wife to keep up appearances, and I’ll buy you a penthouse to keep you as my mistress. As long as you’re submissive, I’ll still provide for you.” Keep me as a mistress? An STD screening? I gripped my phone and burst into a cold laugh. “Harrison, if the water in your brain leaked out, it could flood the entire Hudson River.” I hung up and saved the recording. This was piece of evidence number one. I looked up, staring directly at Eleanor. “I will return your money, and I don’t give a damn about any of your trashy gifts.” I took a step forward. Eleanor’s legs hit the edge of the sofa, forcing her to stumble back. “But we have some accounts to settle.” “That slap, and breaking into my house—I’ve recorded both.” I threw the front door wide open and pointed outside. “Take your precious foster daughter and get the hell out.” Eleanor’s eyes widened. “You dare kick me out? This house belongs to the Coles!” “The deed has my name on it. I paid the down payment, and I pay the mortgage. It has nothing to do with your family.” I pulled out my phone. “If you don’t leave in three seconds, I’m calling the police for home invasion and robbery.” Lily tugged at Eleanor’s sleeve. “Eleanor, let’s go first. Nina is emotionally unstable right now…” Eleanor spat on the floor as Lily guided her out. “Nina, just you wait! You’ll be begging me on your knees soon!” The door slammed shut. Silence returned. I slid down against the door, sitting on the cold hardwood floor. The recording file showed *Saved* on my screen. I wanted to cry, but I forced the tears back. Crying was useless. If I wanted to survive and drag these people down from their pedestals, I had to be dirtier and meaner than them. *** **3** The next morning, I walked into my fashion design firm. Before I even reached my desk, the pungent smell of wet paint hit my nose. My desk was covered in bright red paint, dripping onto the carpet. My sketches were torn to shreds, my computer screen was smashed into a spiderweb, and several keys had been pried off my keyboard, replaced with chewed gum. The assistants who used to call me “boss” or “mentor” kept their heads low, clutching their folders and avoiding my gaze. A few colleagues nearby weren’t even trying to hide their whispers. “How does she still have the nerve to show up?” “I heard that video is incredibly wild.” “Stay away from her. Don’t catch whatever she has.” I pushed open the door to my boss’s office. Mr. Henderson was smoking, not even looking up as he pointed at the termination contract on his desk. “Sign it.” The reason: *Severe damage to the company’s public image. Demanding heavy breach-of-contract fees.* I flipped to the last page. “The police investigation isn’t even over, and you’re already declaring me guilty?” Mr. Henderson crushed his cigarette in the ashtray and spun his chair around. “Nina, Harrison Cole personally called me. No one in this industry dares to cross the Cole family. Don’t blame me. You brought this on yourself.” I signed my name and put the pen down. “My lawyer will handle the fees.” As I stepped out of the building, my phone vibrated. It was a text message from the hospital reminding me to pay my mother’s upcoming surgery fee. I opened my banking app to wire the money. A red exclamation mark popped up: *Account Frozen.* It was a joint account between Harrison and me, but it held the life-saving money I had saved for my mother. Harrison had actually gone this far for that woman. I took a cab straight to the Cole Group headquarters. At the entrance, the security guard blocked my path. “Miss Barlow, orders from above. You are not allowed inside.” He looked anywhere but at me. “Tell Harrison to come down.” “Oh, look who it is. If it isn’t Nina.” Lily walked out from the VIP elevator, dressed in Chanel’s latest haute couture, clutching a limited-edition Hermès Birkin bag. She walked up to me and twirled. “Harrison is in a board meeting. He doesn’t have time for peasants. I heard your mother’s surgery fee is overdue? If you beg me nicely, maybe I’ll throw some spare change your way.” People were constantly passing through the lobby, and every eye was glued to me. I glanced at the bag in her hand. “Lily, that outfit was released just last month. It costs more than three years of your salary. How much limit does Harrison’s credit card even have left for you to burn?” Lily gripped her bag tighter, her neck stiffening. “Harrison loves spending money on me. What’s it to you?” “Enjoy it while it lasts.” I turned and walked away. Lily screamed behind me, “Nina! What the hell is that supposed to mean!” Back in my car, Chloe’s call came through. The background was filled with the rapid clacking of a keyboard. “I found it.” “The IP address that uploaded the video is located in the second-floor guest room of the Cole mansion—Lily’s bedroom. I tracked it further and managed to hack into her private, encrypted cloud storage.” Chloe paused. “Nina… it’s filled with her own videos. Extremely explicit, with price tags and custom services. She’s the one who’s actually filthy.” I buckled my seatbelt. “Back it up. Save it to the cloud.” “Already done. Also, I got some intel. Harrison is planning something big at the charity gala tomorrow night. He’s going to publicly cancel your engagement and announce his proposal to Lily.” The annual charity gala. It would be broadcast live across the city. Harrison wanted to completely ruin me to pave a golden path for Lily. “Tomorrow night,” I said, watching the city skyline recede in my rearview mirror. “We’ll send him an engagement present he’ll never forget.” *** At the five-star hotel ballroom. Chloe had secured two VIP invitations. We stood quietly in the shadows of a corner. Harrison entered, with Lily clinging to his arm. Lily was wearing a white mermaid gown, surrounded by a crowd praising her “artistic talent.” I stared at the dress. That was a discarded sketch I had thrown into the trash can a month ago. She had fished it out, added two cheap lines, and claimed it as her own original design. The lights dimmed, and a spotlight focused on the main stage. Harrison led Lily up to the stage and grabbed the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, I have an important announcement to make.” The massive LED screen behind them lit up. On the left was my professional headshot. On the right was the AI face-swapped nude photo, with the red mole on my waist heavily zoomed in. The room erupted into gasps. People started whispering, their eyes scanning the room to find me. Harrison pointed at the screen. “Nina Barlow’s private life is disgustingly wild. She makes and sells these kinds of videos. The Cole family will never accept such a vile woman! As of today, our engagement is officially null and void!” Some people clapped; others spat out curses. Suddenly, Lily clutched her stomach and stumbled backward. “Ah!” She grabbed Harrison’s suit jacket, pointing toward the VIP lounge. “Just now… Nina pushed me… my baby…” Harrison caught her, his eyes wild with fury as he swept his gaze across the room, instantly locking onto me in the corner. “Nina!” He charged down the stage. I didn’t move. In the next second, cold fingers clamped hard around my throat. Harrison slammed me against a marble pillar, his face inches from mine. “Ruining my reputation wasn’t enough? Now you want to kill my child?” I didn’t struggle. I just looked directly into his eyes. “It’s fake.” “Fake?!” Harrison grabbed a glass of red wine from a passing waiter’s tray and splashed it directly into my face. The cold liquid stung my eyes and entered my nose, making me cough violently as I bent over. Several hired instigators in the crowd immediately started shouting. “I’ve seen the video! It’s definitely her!” “Scammer! Give us back our money!” “A woman like her belongs in prison!” Security guards rushed over, grabbing my arms and dragging me to the floor. Nearby, a champagne tower wobbled slightly. Suddenly, a loud *clunk* echoed through the room. The automated doors of the ballroom locked shut. All the lights went out instantly. The massive LED screen flickered with static, turned black, and then a line of blood-red text flashed on the screen: **[WHO IS THE TRULY FILTHY ONE?]** Immediately, an unedited, raw video began to load. The loading circle spun twice. The audio came first. It was Lily’s high-pitched, moaning voice, echoing with crystal clarity through the dead-silent ballroom.

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My best friend, Maya, went to Dubai to work as a nanny. Out of nowhere, she video-called me, claiming a billionaire oil prince had fallen head over heels for her and they were getting married. “Chloe, I get millions in allowance every single day! Next week, I’m sending a private jet to pick you up. I’m gifting you an oil well so you can just lie in bed and count cash for the rest of your life!” I was so hyped that I quit my job on the spot, waiting for my ride. But on the day we were supposed to meet at the airport… I watched private jets land and take off all day, but none of them were for me. I even checked the customs entry list for the entire day. Maya’s name wasn’t on it. Heart pounding, I dialed her number. But all I got was a cold, computerized voice: “We’re sorry, the number you dialed is no longer in service…” I stared at my phone screen, not daring to blink. The time jumped from 2:00 PM to 8:00 PM. The air conditioning in the JFK Airport VIP lounge was freezing, raising goosebumps all over my arms. The receptionist walked over for the third time. The sharp click of her heels against the marble floor made my head throb. “Ms. Chloe, there is no Maya on today’s private flight arrivals. No flights from Dubai have even registered.” She wore a professional, fake smile, but her eyes were dripping with mockery. “That’s impossible!” I slammed my phone onto the counter. The screen displayed my chat history with Maya. In the photo, Maya was wearing a diamond-encrusted gown, leaning against a gold Bugatti with a radiant smile. “Look closely! This is the location she sent me yesterday. She said she was sending a Gulfstream G700 for me!” “She said she was taking me to Dubai to swim in cash. She was going to buy me an oil well!” The receptionist took a disgusted step back. “Ms. Chloe, you can get those photos photoshopped on Fiverr for five bucks. Or buy a fake package on Amazon.” “Your time in the VIP lounge has expired. Without active flight info, I must ask you to leave.” To wait for Maya, I had thrown my resignation letter right in my boss’s face. I hadn’t even paid my rent. All my luggage was stored at the airport lockers. If I didn’t leave now, I’d be sleeping under a bridge tonight. “Maya would never lie to me! We grew up together. I know every single freckle on her body!” I grabbed my phone and dialed that familiar number again. Yesterday, she was still bragging about how obsessed the prince was with her. She said she’d buy me a solid gold toilet just so I could experience “treating money like piece of trash.” Her voice had been high-pitched and ecstatic. In the background, I could hear loud Arabic music and the roar of sports cars. Now, there was only the robotic female voice telling me the number didn’t exist. My brain went completely numb. With trembling fingers, I opened Snapchat. Our chat history stopped at her last voice note: “Send me a photo of your passport before you get on the plane!” I sent her a question mark. A bright red exclamation mark flashed on the screen. *Message failed to send. You are not connected with this user.* Blocked? Deleted? Or account deactivated? A wave of dizziness hit me. I almost collapsed onto the floor. “Maya, you got rich and decided to dump your poor bestie, is that it?” Refusing to believe it, I clicked on her Instagram. Her profile, which had been flooded with photos of Dubai supercars, yachts, and that “oil prince” who only showed his eyes, was completely blank. Just a gray line. “Ms. Chloe, security is on their way. Please cooperate,” the receptionist’s voice went cold. I turned around, dragging my two massive suitcases, and ran. I couldn’t believe Maya would be this cruel. Last month, she couldn’t pay her rent, so I maxed out my credit card to cover her. Her ticket to Dubai was bought with my savings for a house down payment. She always said I was her only real family. She wouldn’t just vanish and delete her number. Unless… something happened to her! I took a cab straight to Maya’s old apartment. On the way, I called everyone in my contact list. “Zach, have you heard from Maya?” “Chloe, you’ve got the wrong guy. My ex was Vanessa. I’ve been single since college!” The line went dead. I cursed and called Maya’s cousin. “Jessica, is Maya with you?” “Chloe, honey, are you under too much work stress? I’m an only child. I don’t have a cousin named Maya.” The cab screeched to a halt at the entrance of a sketchy, rundown alley. My head hit the back of the seat, but I didn’t even care about the pain. I tossed a hundred-dollar bill at the driver and dashed into the dark building. I ran up to the fifth floor and began pounding furiously on the metal door of apartment 502. “Maya! Get out here!” “Don’t think you can hide from me! Give me my money back!” “If you want to cut ties, fine! Just pay me back for the plane ticket, and we’re even!” The door didn’t budge. Instead, the door of 501 swung open. An old man, reeking of cheap beer, poked his head out holding a heavy kitchen knife. “Who’s screaming in the middle of the night? You want me to chop you up?!” I flinched at the sight of the knife. I pointed at 502, my voice shaking. “I’m looking for Maya.” The old man squinted at me like I was a lunatic. “That apartment has been empty for years! Nobody lives there!” “Impossible!” I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my photos. “I helped her move in last month! Look, this is a photo of us right at this doorway!” My fingers flew across the screen until I found the photo. My voice died in my throat. The background of the photo was indeed this rusty metal door. Even the faded Halloween pumpkin decal on the door was identical. But in the photo, I was standing there completely alone, making a peace sign at the empty air, wearing a stiff, creepy smile. Maya, who was supposed to be hugging my arm, was completely gone.

Cold sweat instantly drenched my back. I stared at the photo, my fingers rubbing the screen aggressively as if I could rub her back into existence. “No… this is impossible!” “Who photoshopped this? Who touched my phone?” The old man’s anger turned into pity. He shuffled back a bit. “Kid, your brain is fried. Go home and take your meds.” The door of 501 slammed shut. The hallway fell into a dead, suffocating silence, save for the buzzing of the cheap fluorescent light. I leaned against the rusty railing, gasping for air, my heart hammering against my ribs. The deactivated phone could be a coincidence. Her relatives denying her existence could be a conspiracy. But how did the photo explain itself? My phone had never left my side. Only Maya and I knew the passcode. Had some hacker breached my phone just to wipe Maya out of my life? What kind of insane vendetta would that require? Maya was just an ordinary girl. How could she trigger someone that powerful? Unless… that “oil prince” was the problem! My brain was a chaotic mess. I knew I couldn’t stay here. I had to go home. My parents would definitely remember Maya! Maya basically lived at our house growing up because her own parents didn’t give a crap about her. She was always over at our place, eating our food. My mother, Helen, was a snob. She used to look down on Maya for being poor. But the moment she heard Maya was going to Dubai to marry a billionaire, her attitude flipped instantly. She even bought expensive glass mason jars just to pack organic jam for Maya to take with her. I stumbled down the stairs, hailed another cab, and rushed to my parents’ house. The moment I burst through the door, I saw my mom lounging on the couch, eating sunflower seeds while watching TV, and my dad, Richard, tending to his plants on the balcony. “Mom! Something terrible has happened!” I rushed over and grabbed her arm. “Maya is gone! Her phone is disconnected, her Snapchat is gone, and she’s literally vanished from our photos!” My mom flinched, spilling her seeds all over the floor. She patted her hands clean, looking irritated. “Chloe, did you go crazy just because you quit your job? Act your age.” “Mom, I’m serious! Maya said she was marrying a prince and would send us a million dollars each!” “You even asked her to get you a limited-edition crocodile Birkin bag…” My mom reached out and felt my forehead, her brow furrowing in confusion. “No fever. Why are you talking nonsense? Who the hell is Maya? What Dubai prince?” She turned and yelled toward the balcony, asking my dad if I had lost my mind over money. My dad pushed up his reading glasses and walked in. “Chloe, a job is just a job. You don’t need to make up stories to cope with losing it.” Looking at their familiar yet suddenly alien faces, a chill crept down my spine. “Mom, Dad, stop playing! Maya was my high school roommate! We slept in the same bed!” “Remember Thanksgiving two years ago? She accidentally ruined the gravy by putting chocolate syrup in it! You don’t remember that?!” I grabbed my mom’s shoulders, shaking her desperately. My mom shoved me away with surprising force. She stood up, pointing a finger angrily at my face. “Chloe, have you been possessed?” “You’ve been an awkward loner with zero friends since you were a kid! Where did this ‘Maya’ come from?” “And that Thanksgiving incident? You were the one who ruined the gravy and blamed it on a make-believe friend!” “Stop reading those trashy billionaire romance novels. They’ve rotted your brain!” I collapsed onto the floor. The cold hardwood sent a shiver through me, instantly clearing my head. A make-believe friend? I looked up at the family portrait on the wall. It was taken last Christmas. Maya had insisted on squeezing in, standing right between me and my mom. Now, in the photo, there was a bizarre, empty space between us. My posture in the photo looked incredibly unnatural. My arm was hovering in mid-air, as if wrapping around a ghost. “This photo is wrong! If I wasn’t holding someone, why is my arm raised like that?!” I pointed at the wall, my finger shaking. My mom let out a cold laugh. “You said your shoulder was stiff that day and wanted to stretch it out.” “Chloe, I’m taking you to see a therapist tomorrow. You’re having hallucinations.” Everyone was telling me it was a hallucination. If this were before, I might have actually doubted my own sanity and believed I had conjured up a best friend in my mind. But then, as my mom turned around to pour some water, I spotted something poking out from under the couch cushion. An airline ticket stub. Destination: Dubai. Passenger: Tyler. My deadbeat younger brother. The date on the ticket: Yesterday! Why did Tyler fly to Dubai on the exact same day Maya went missing? My parents were lying. They were trying so hard to deny Maya’s existence. What were they hiding? While my mom was in the kitchen, I reached under the cushion, pulled out the ticket stub, and shoved it into my pocket. The sharp edge of the paper sliced my palm. The sting kept me brutally sharp. Maya was real. Her “disappearance” was a meticulously planned crime. And my parents were accomplices.

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My wife was raped and beaten to death in our newly bought house by my best friend. Yet, in court, I stood up and defended him, securing his acquittal. My father-in-law, Arthur, had a stroke on the spot from pure rage and was rushed to the ER. My brother-in-law, Tyler, cornered me with a knife in his hand. “Ethan! She was your wife! She was in your new home, hanging up fairy lights and waiting for you when she was murdered!” “Why did you protect that animal, Leo Vance?! Are you even human?!” He pressed the blade against my throat, his eyes bloodshot and wild as he roared at me. I didn’t even blink. Feeling the sharp pain of the blade slicing into my skin, I just smiled. “Do it.” “Send me down there to be with her.” “Let her ask me face-to-face why I did it.” Tyler’s hand shook violently. He was on the verge of a total breakdown. “Ethan! You think I won’t do it?” The hospital corridor was packed with onlookers, their phone flashes blinking in my face. “Isn’t that Ethan Cole, the hotshot lawyer?” “Yeah, I heard he took a massive bribe to get his own wife’s killer off the hook.” “What a monster. Feeding on his wife’s blood money.” “Disgusting. Why is he still breathing?” I listened to their whispers, my expression blank, a faint, cold smile playing on my lips. Suddenly, the VIP ward door was kicked open. Helen, my mother-in-law, rushed out with wild, messy hair. She immediately saw me, my neck dripping with blood. She didn’t call for a doctor. She didn’t try to stop Tyler’s knife. *SLAP!* A heavy slap landed on my face, burning hot. My head snapped to the side, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth. “Get out! Get the hell out of here!” Helen pointed at my face, her voice high-pitched and hysterical. “You killed my Clara! Now you want to kill her father too? Why don’t you just die!” Tyler’s grip loosened, and the knife clattered to the linoleum floor. He collapsed to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably. I ignored the stinging on my cheek, raised my hand, and casually wiped the blood from my neck. No explanations. No apologies. I didn’t even give them a second glance. Turning around, I walked straight toward the elevator. Behind me, Helen’s curses and Tyler’s weeping echoed down the hall. I kept my spine perfectly straight. The moment I stepped out of the hospital lobby, my phone buzzed in my pocket. The screen displayed “Vance Family.” I answered, my voice instantly switching to a warm, gentle tone. “Hello, Mrs. Vance.” The grateful voice of an elderly woman came through the speaker. “Oh, Mr. Cole, thank you so, so much. The police just said there wasn’t enough evidence. They’re releasing my Leo…” I stopped walking and looked back at the towering hospital building. “Don’t worry. I have everything under control. Just do exactly as I said, and he’ll be completely fine.” Sudden, heavy footsteps rushed up behind me. Tyler had followed me out. He was staring death glares at the phone in my hand. He had heard everything. And I knew he would. “Ethan—!” Tyler lunged, grabbing my collar and slamming my head violently against the concrete wall. “You took that murderer’s money, didn’t you? You sold Clara’s life for a paycheck! You sick piece of trash!” Pedestrians stopped, pointing and whispering. “Is that the corrupt lawyer?” “Looks decent on the outside, but his soul is pure black.” Staring into Tyler’s burning eyes, I didn’t defend myself. My right hand remained in my trench coat pocket, my fingers tightly gripping a ball of unfinished, thick yarn. It was a scarf Clara had been knitting for me before she died. “Say something! Are you mute?!” Tyler threw a hard punch, hitting my cheekbone. I stumbled back a few steps, steadying myself against the wall. I kept my head down, letting my messy hair cover my eyes. My throat tightened. “Are you done?” I spat out a mouthful of bloody spit. “If you’re done, go back inside and take care of your father.” With that, I pushed past Tyler and hailed a cab. When I got home, the house was dead silent. I didn’t turn on the lights. I grabbed a bottle of cheap whiskey from the cabinet, unscrewed the cap, and took a massive gulp. The burning liquid scorched my throat, and tears instantly flooded my eyes. I pulled out my phone, the dim screen illuminating my twisted face. The screen showed a forensic photo—Clara lying in a pool of blood, her eyes still open, as if she were looking right at me. I traced her pale face on the screen with a trembling finger. “Clara…” A low, wounded growl escaped my throat. I smiled at the photo, but heavy tears kept splashing onto the glass screen. “Soon, baby. Very soon.” The next morning, I was shaken awake by the sound of glass shattering. The living room was a disaster zone. Tyler had brought a few of his rough cousins. Armed with baseball bats, they were brutally smashing the small memorial table I had set up for Clara. The flowers were trampled, and the memorial candles were kicked over. “Trash it! Trash this monster’s house!” Tyler stepped directly on Clara’s framed photograph, the sound of the glass cracking exceptionally sharp. I stood at the bedroom door, watching the scene unfold. My fists clenched so hard my veins turned blue. But I didn’t move. I just watched coldly, like an outsider.

The sky was so dark it felt like it was falling, and the rain poured down in sheets. At the entrance of the cemetery, a large wooden sign stood right in the middle of the path. “Ethan Cole and dogs keep out.” The words were spray-painted in dripping red paint, looking like fresh blood. I was dressed in all black, shielding a bouquet of fresh lilies in my arms. Those were Clara’s favorite flowers. Ignoring the sign, I walked straight in. “Stop him!” Tyler roared, and five or six muscular guys rushed me. Without a word, their fists rained down on my back and head. I curled my body into a ball, desperately protecting the flowers in my chest. “Throw him out! Don’t let him ruin Clara’s path to heaven!” Tyler kicked me hard in the ribs. A sharp, agonizing pain shot through me. I groaned but refused to let go of the bouquet. Until someone forcefully bent my fingers back and snatched the lilies away. “You think you deserve to give her flowers?” Tyler threw the lilies into the mud and stomped on them repeatedly until the white petals turned into black mush. “You belong in hell!” Lying in the mud, staring at the ruined flowers, my eyes burned red. I tried to crawl toward them, but a heavy boot slammed down on the back of my hand. Tyler looked down at me, pulled a photo from his jacket, and slapped it onto my wet face. “Look at this, everyone!” He pointed at the photo, his voice piercing through the heavy rain. “This is his true face! Six months before Clara was murdered, he was already drinking with that killer, Leo Vance, at a pub!” The photo was real. But it was taken when Leo had come to my office to ask for legal advice. The gathering relatives and guests erupted. “Oh my god, so it was a pre-planned murder?” “How is this guy not behind bars yet?” Someone spat on my face. Then came plastic water bottles, mud, and even small stones. “Beat this gold-digging bastard!” “You sick cuckold!” I was like a stray dog cornered in the street, surrounded by an angry mob. No resistance. No explanation. I let them pelt me with whatever they had. The sound of squeaking wheels approached. The crowd automatically split to make way. Arthur sat in his wheelchair, his face pale and sickly, his lips trembling. He held an old, mud-stained sneaker and threw it at me with what little strength he had left. The shoe struck my forehead, leaving a dirty smudge. “You… animal… get out…” The old man shook with rage, his chest heaving like a broken bellows. “Arthur…” The moment I opened my mouth, two strong hands pinned my shoulders to the ground. “Get on your knees!” Tyler kicked the back of my knees. “Apologize to my father! Apologize to Clara!” My knees crashed heavily onto the rough gravel. Before I could react, a large hand pressed the back of my head and slammed it downward. *Thud!* The sound of my forehead hitting the concrete step was sickening. Warm blood immediately flowed down my eyebrow, blurring my vision. Everything turned red. Around me were curses, insults, and the relentless sound of rain. The sheer humiliation gnawed at my heart like a venomous snake. I lifted my head, my face covered in blood. Through the red haze, I looked at Clara’s cold tombstone. Suddenly, I laughed. A distorted, chilling laugh. “Arthur. Tyler.” I locked eyes with them, my voice quiet but dripping with icy malice. “You will regret this.” “Only I… can truly let her rest in peace.” Tyler flinched, taking a step back, startled by the look in my eyes. But he quickly recovered, masked by embarrassment and anger. “Still acting tough! Throw him out of here!” I was dragged out of the cemetery like a dead dog. And thrown brutally into the muddy ditch by the roadside. The dirty water seeped into my cuts, causing a blinding pain. The storm raged on, washing away the blood and dirt from my body. I lay in the mud, staring at the gray sky. My body was in extreme pain, but my mind had never been clearer. Clara. Just wait a little longer. The show isn’t over yet.

The door to our apartment had two yellow police warning tapes stretched across it. Dragging my injured left leg, I ignored the tapes, ripped them off, and pushed the door open. The air inside was thick with a stale, metallic smell. On the floor, a large patch of dried, dark-brown blood was staring back at me. That was where Clara died. I grabbed a rag from the bathroom, got down on my knees, and began to scrub the floor. “Clara loves a clean house. Can’t let it stay dirty…” I mumbled to myself, my eyes completely hollow. From the hallway, a sharp, mocking voice drifted in. “Oh look, the freak is back.” Our neighbor, Mrs. Gable, was standing in the corridor, raising her voice on purpose. “Selling his wife out and having the nerve to come back. Who’s going to buy this cursed apartment now? What a jinx.” “I know, right? Heard he even defended the killer. He’s lucky her ghost hasn’t dragged him to hell yet.” My hand paused for a second. I didn’t look up. I kept scrubbing. I scrubbed until the floorboards turned pale and my fingers were raw and bleeding. Heavy, hurried footsteps echoed in the hallway again. Tyler burst in with a few guys, waving some papers in the air. “Ethan Cole! Explain this!” He threw the papers, and they scattered across the floor in front of me. It was a copy of a life insurance policy. The payout: Ten million dollars. The sole beneficiary: Ethan Cole. Tyler’s eyes were bloodshot, looking like a wild predator ready to rip me apart. “No wonder you defended Leo Vance! No wonder you didn’t press charges!” He lunged, grabbing my collar and shoving the paper in my face. “Because he was your partner! You were the mastermind! You set this up for the insurance money!” I stared at the policy, completely frozen. When did Clara buy this? I recalled the week before her birthday, when she had mysteriously told me she had prepared a huge surprise for me. So this was it. That foolish, loving woman… Was she worried that if anything happened to her, I would be left with nothing? My heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand, making it hard to breathe. My silence, however, was proof of guilt in Tyler’s eyes. “Silent? Guilty conscience?” Tyler grabbed a baseball bat from near the door and swung it down with full force. *THUD!* The bat slammed into my stomach. My stomach spasmed violently. I curled up on the floor like a shrimp, cold sweat instantly soaking my back. I grit my teeth and didn’t make a sound. “Tell me! Did you plan this?!” Tyler raised the bat for another swing. “Stop hitting him!” A man’s voice came from the door. Our neighbor, Marcus Drake, walked in, wearing an expression of righteous indignation. “Tyler, I’ll testify for you.” Marcus pointed at me as I lay on the floor, his eyes shifting nervously. “A few days before the murder, I heard him and Leo Vance arguing in the hallway. They were talking about ‘how to split the cash’ and ‘making sure it looks clean.’” The crowd outside the door gasped. “Oh my god, a witness!” “This is it! He’s guilty!” Lying on the floor, I forced my head up to look at Marcus’s hypocritical face. He had been obsessed with Clara, pursuing her constantly, and grew bitter after she rejected him. Good. Very good. All the monsters are finally in one room. I suddenly burst out laughing. It was a laugh that rattled my chest, tasting of copper and blood. I struggled to my feet, grabbed a half-empty bottle of liquor from the ruined counter, and took a large swig in front of everyone. The alcohol spilled down my chin, mixing with the blood on my lips. “Yeah,” I said, wiping my mouth, looking at Tyler with a mocking smirk. “The money is coming. Ten million dollars. Of course I’m thrilled.” “With that kind of cash, do you think I’ll have trouble finding another woman?” Silence. Complete, suffocating silence. In the next second, Tyler completely snapped. He grabbed a heavy metal shovel from the corner of the room and raised it high. “Then go to hell with your money!” The shovel cut through the air, aimed straight at my skull. I closed my eyes. I didn’t dodge. *CLANG!* A dull impact echoed, but the expected pain didn’t come. I opened my eyes. A frail figure had thrown herself over me. Warm liquid dripped onto my face. It was Mary Vance, Leo’s mother. The edge of the shovel had grazed her forehead, and blood was gushing out. “Don’t hit Mr. Cole… He’s a good man…” the elderly woman sobbed, shielding me with her body. The crowd went wild. Tyler froze, and then his rage flared even hotter. He pointed at Mary, the veins on his forehead bulging like worms. “Look at this! The killer’s mother is protecting this piece of trash!” “You guys are definitely in this together! You disgusting criminals!” The gathered neighbors were fully riled up now. “Beat them to death!” “No shame!” “They threw away their humanity for cash!” People started throwing rocks, garbage, and rotten vegetables. Tyler pulled out his phone and started a livestream on TikTok. “Guys, look at this! This is Ethan Cole! The monster who murdered his wife for insurance!” The comment section exploded in real-time. [He deserves the electric chair!] [Dox him! Find out where his family lives!] [Why isn’t this demon dead yet?] I had officially become public enemy number one. Just then, sirens wailed in the distance. Two police cruisers pulled up downstairs, and officers rushed up the stairs. “Freeze! Everyone step back!” They set up caution tape, barely keeping the furious crowd at bay. But Tyler wouldn’t let it go. In front of the officers, he shoved his phone camera right into my face. “Ethan Cole, in front of the cops, in front of millions online, do you dare to admit you ordered Leo Vance to kill her?!” “Do you dare to swear? If you lie, may you burn in hell!” The crowd pushed forward, and I was knocked to the ground. Someone from the crowd had brought a plastic bowl filled with cold, rotten food mixed with dirty water and ash from the memorial candle. *SPLASH!* The cold, filthy mush was dumped directly over my head. Some of it even got into my mouth. “Eat up! This is your final meal!” “Apologize to your wife!” I lay on the ground, humiliated to the core. At that moment, my dignity was completely ground into the dirt. I stuck out my tongue and tasted the bitter, ash-covered food on my lip. Then, slowly, I stood up. I pushed away the officer who tried to help me. Using my sleeve, I wiped the grime and blood from my face, inch by inch. My movements were so slow it made the room go quiet. I lifted my eyes, looking past Tyler, past the police officers, and locked my gaze onto someone standing in the very back of the crowd. I roared, my voice echoing through the entire building. “Leo Vance is not the killer!” I pointed a trembling finger at the figure in the back, pronouncing every word clearly. “The real killer… is standing right among us!”

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