Category: English

I have always lived in my own head. To keep my imagination sharp, I invented a new student named Chase. I talked about him every day, weaving him into conversations until my classmates got used to his presence. We’d joke about him, complain about his habits—he became a ghost that everyone thought was flesh and bone. But only I knew the truth: Chase didn’t exist. He was a phantom I’d conjured out of thin air to fill the silence of my own life. Until the day my homeroom teacher pulled me aside, her face a mask of grim severity. “Sophie,” she said, her voice dropping to a jagged whisper. “Did you hear? Chase is dead.” I froze. My mind went blank, a white-noise hum drowning out the hallway chatter. Chase? The boy I’d made up? How could a lie end up in a body bag? … It happened during third period on a Tuesday. Mrs. Lawson didn’t call my name from the doorway like she usually did. She walked straight to my desk and leaned down, her breath smelling faintly of peppermint and anxiety. “Step outside for a moment,” she murmured. She kept her voice low, a secret meant only for me. At that moment, I was sketching the profile of a character on the edge of my notebook—a sharp jawline, a slightly crooked nose. I instinctively flipped the page over before following her out. The hallway was a tunnel of sterile fluorescent light, empty and echoing. Mrs. Lawson walked to the window at the far end, shut it with a definitive click, and turned to face me. She was the kind of teacher who didn’t waste words. She taught AP Lit and valued precision. But that day, her eyes held something I couldn’t categorize. It wasn’t the look of a teacher about to scold a student or discuss a failing grade. It was the look of someone trying to figure out how to deliver a blow. She stayed silent for a few heartbeats, then asked, “Do you know someone named Chase? Chase Miller?” My heart skipped. Chase. That was the name I’d invented. My name is Sophie Hall. I’m a senior, and I’m a writer. Not the kind who just doodles in a diary, but the kind who actually tries to build worlds. I’d started posting a story on a serialized fiction site a few years back. Thirty thousand words in, I had exactly twenty-seven followers—five of whom were my own burner accounts. My mom told me I was wasting my time. She wasn’t wrong, but I couldn’t stop. The problem with writing is that you need “material.” I’m not the kind of writer who can build a person from nothing. I’m a scavenger. I need a prototype, a spark of reality to steal. I take a stranger’s nervous twitch, a neighbor’s laugh, and graft them onto a fictional skeleton. So, I developed a habit. Every few months, I’d “create” a person. I’d build a complete backstory and then start feeding details about them to my classmates during lunch or before the bell rang. If people started talking about them like they were real, it meant my character work was solid. It was my own private lab. I’d done it at my last two schools without a hitch. This year, I was the new girl at a massive public high school. I was a ghost. People didn’t look up when I walked into the room. They didn’t notice when I left. My messages in the group chat went unread. In the yearbook photos, I was the girl in the back corner whose face was half-blocked by someone else’s shoulder. That feeling—that dull, persistent ache of being invisible—was what birthed Chase. I stole his profile from a guy I saw at a coffee shop: high bridge of the nose, a stubborn chin, ears that stuck out just a little too much. I stole his personality from a half-finished noir novel: quiet, but with a smile that felt like a reward. I gave him a hobby: basketball. But just saying “he plays basketball” was too thin. I gave him a flaw. A specific one. A nagging old injury in his left thigh that made him jump slightly to the right whenever he went for a dunk. He’d miss the rim, the ball would bounce off the edge, and he’d just shrug and trot back, unfazed. He was cocky but effortless. The first time I mentioned that detail to my lab partner, she actually laughed. “God, he sounds like such a dork,” she said. That was the first time in three months someone had looked me in the eye and engaged with me. I felt a tectonic shift in my chest. Something small, but real. I realized that Chase was my currency. So, I started investing in him. The details became more granular. He never used a straw because he liked the cold hit of the soda against his teeth. Every Friday after school, he’d go to the gas station and buy a bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos—it was his ritual, win or lose. He was terrified of cats but claimed he was just “deathly allergic” because he was too proud to admit he was scared. Once, I told a girl that he’d borrowed my water bottle and drank from it without asking. She rolled her eyes and said, “Typical.” I realized then that the more real Chase became, the more real I became. People started asking about him. “How’s Chase’s leg?” “Did he ever get over the cat thing?” They remembered what I’d said the week before. For the first time, I wasn’t just Sophie Hall, the girl in the back; I was the girl who knew Chase. I knew it wasn’t healthy. I knew I was trading a lie for a sense of belonging. But I couldn’t stop. So, standing in that hallway, hearing Mrs. Lawson ask about him, my first reaction wasn’t fear. It was a bizarre, fleeting moment of confusion. “A body was found in the old industrial park near the tracks three days ago,” Mrs. Lawson said. “He didn’t have any ID on him. The police are running prints and checking missing persons reports.” She took a breath. “Some students mentioned that you’ve been talking about a ‘Chase’ recently. The police want to talk to you.” I stood there, paralyzed. Outside, on the courts, I could hear the rhythmic thump-thump of a basketball. Chase was a lie. He was a collection of stolen traits and imagined habits. He didn’t exist. How could he be lying on a cold floor in an abandoned warehouse? The police came the next morning. They set up in the conference room. The detective was young, wearing a generic suit and a neutral expression. He looked like he was just filling out forms. He asked me what my relationship was with Chase. I wanted to tell the truth. I wanted to say, He’s a character in a book I haven’t written yet. I made him up. None of it is real. But then I thought of my lab partner. I thought of the girls who finally sat with me at lunch. I thought of the three months of social progress that would vanish the moment I admitted I was a “weirdo” who talked to herself. I thought about the stares. The pity. The mockery. I opened my mouth, and I heard myself say, “We were… friends. Not super close, but we hung out.” The detective scribbled that down. I watched the tip of his pen move across the paper. It sounded like a door locking behind me. I had just lied to the police. Before this, it was a creative exercise. Now, it was an obstruction of justice. But I told myself it was just a coincidence. “Chase” was a common enough name. The dead boy couldn’t possibly be my Chase. I’d made him up from thin air. That night, I searched the news. The report was short. Male victim, early twenties. Found in an abandoned warehouse. Blunt force trauma to the head. Signs of a struggle. No ID. Identity pending. Twenty years old. That fit the age I’d given him. I stared at the screen until the words blurred. I told myself there were thousands of twenty-year-old guys in this city. It didn’t mean anything. I didn’t sleep until 3:00 AM. Every time I closed my eyes, I heard the sound of my roommate shifting in the bunk above me, and my heart would hammer against my ribs. The police came back three days later. This time, it was an older detective. He had a manila envelope. He told me the victim’s face was badly bruised, but they’d reconstructed an image. He slid a photo across the table. It was a profile shot. High bridge of the nose. A stubborn, hard jawline. Ears that flared out just a bit at the tips. It was the exact face I’d “stolen” from that stranger in the coffee shop months ago. My skin went cold. It’s a common look, I told myself. Lots of guys look like this. I pushed the photo back. “I’m not sure,” I whispered. “It’s hard to tell.” The detective leaned in. “What did Chase like to do?” “Basketball,” I said. “Did he have any quirks? Anything specific about the way he moved?” I dug my nails into my palms under the table. I kept my face as blank as a fresh sheet of paper. “I don’t know. Like I said, we weren’t that close.” The detective nodded, flipped through his notes, and then looked me dead in the eye. “The guys he played ball with—the ones we tracked down at the park—said he had a weird habit when he dunked. He always landed to the right because of an old injury in his thigh.” He paused, letting the silence heavy the room. “You mentioned that exact detail to your classmates two weeks ago, Sophie. How did you know about an injury that wasn’t visible?” I felt the air leave my lungs. “I… I think he might have mentioned it once. In passing. I don’t really remember.” The detective didn’t push. He just stood up. “If you remember anything else, call us.” I walked out of that room and leaned against the lockers. The injury. The landing to the right. I had made that up. I’d added it because it felt “literary.” It made him feel flawed and human. But the dead boy really had that injury. The dead boy really played that way. That night, I took a piece of scrap paper and listed every detail I’d ever invented for Chase. Profile: Match. Thigh injury: Match. Dunking to the right: Match. Limp when tired: Unknown. Drinking without a straw: Unknown. Fear of cats: Unknown. Friday Cheetos: Unknown. I stared at the list until my hands shook so hard I couldn’t hold the pen. I folded the paper into a tiny square and shoved it into the back of my desk drawer, under a pile of old math tests. In the days that followed, the school turned into a pressure cooker. Whispers followed me. “She knew him,” they’d say. “She’s been talking about him for months, and now he’s dead. It’s creepy.” Others were more suspicious. “Maybe she knows more than she’s saying. Why is she being so quiet?” I didn’t defend myself. I just kept my head down. I found the girl I’d first talked to about Chase. I asked her, “Do you remember when I first mentioned him? Did you ever hear his name before that?” She thought for a second. “No. It was that one day in study hall. You just started talking about this guy you knew. Why?” “Just wondering,” I said. I felt a momentary relief. At least someone could prove the name came from me. I hadn’t overheard it. But that relief was incinerated forty-eight hours later. The police released a new update. They’d found a bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos in the victim’s pocket. His friends told the police it was his “stress snack.” He bought a bag every Friday, win or lose. I sat on my bed, staring at my phone. Four out of seven. The fear wasn’t a sharp sting anymore; it was a cold weight, pulling me under. My mom called that night. She sounded worried. “You okay, honey? You sound tired.” “I’m fine, Mom. Just school stuff.” “Take a break, Sophie. Don’t push yourself too hard.” When I hung up, I cried. Not because I was sad, but because I was so incredibly lonely in this lie. Eventually, I went to the abandoned warehouse. I fought with myself for three days about it. Part of me knew it was a mistake. But the other part of me felt like there was a thorn in my brain, and the only way to get it out was to see the place where the lie became real. I took the bus to the edge of town. It was late afternoon, the sun casting long, jagged shadows across the cracked pavement. The yellow police tape was still there, fluttering in the wind. I stood outside the perimeter and looked at the gaping maw of the warehouse door. Near the entrance, there was a dark stain on the concrete. It wasn’t large, but it was deep, like the liquid had seeped into the very pores of the stone. I knew what it was. As I stood there, an image flashed in my mind. My Chase. The boy I’d built. He was on the court, jumping, missing the rim, laughing it off. He turned to look at me, a cocky smirk on his face. And then the image shattered. He never looked at me. He couldn’t. He wasn’t real. But the person who bled out on this concrete was real. He had a life, and a family, and a stupid habit of eating spicy chips when he was stressed. And somehow, my “fiction” had draped itself over his death like a shroud. I turned to leave, but a voice stopped me. “You here for the ghost story too?” It was an old man sitting on a crate near a fruit stand. “No,” I said. “Just passing through.” The old man nodded, not believing me. “A lot of noise that night. I was right here. I heard it.” I stopped. “Heard what?” The old man frowned, searching his memory. He muttered a few things under his breath, then looked up. “He called out a name. Just one. Called it out loud, then nothing but silence.” My blood turned to ice. “What name?” I whispered. “Chase,” the old man said. “He screamed ‘Chase,’ and then the world went quiet.” Chase. The name I’d pulled out of thin air. Someone had screamed it in the dark, right before a real man died.

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This time around, I started quietly dating the wealthiest heiress in Boston. My roommate, Todd, had always possessed a taste in women that mirrored my own with sickening precision. In fact, he had deeply “admired” every single girlfriend I’d ever had. He used to tell me I was too naive, too blind to the manipulative ways of women. Out of the goodness of his heart, he offered to “test” them for me. The result? Every single time, under the guise of looking out for his bro, he seduced them. Once he had them wrapped around his finger, he would parade his victory in front of me with a smug grin. “See? I told you your radar is garbage. They were only after your money, Rowan. Good thing I was here to cut your losses!” The last time he pulled that stunt, I beat him until his face was a mosaic of bruises. So, when he found out about my new relationship with the billionaire heiress, I knew he wouldn’t be able to help himself. He was already itching to make his move. What Todd didn’t know, however, was that this particular heiress was a meticulously crafted surprise—wrapped and delivered specifically for him. 1 Todd was waving a Polaroid of my ex-girlfriend, Juliette, like it was a winning lottery ticket. “When she was chasing you, she swore she’d never love another man. Now? All I had to do was crook my finger, and she practically threw herself at me.” He leaned back in his desk chair, tossing the photo onto my bed. “You should be thanking me, Rowan. You almost got played again.” My hands curled into tight fists. A hot, familiar spike of anger lodged in my chest. “You’re literally bragging about being the other man,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “Do you have any shame left at all?” Todd blinked, feigning a look of profound hurt. “Come on, man. I was just worried about you getting used. Why do you always have to make me the villain?” From across the room, our roommate Dustin immediately chimed in to defend him. “Rowan, you’re acting pathetic over a girl. Are you really going to nuke your friendship with your brother over some chick?” “Seriously,” Brad added from the top bunk, not even looking up from his phone. “If it weren’t for Todd, you would’ve been taken to the cleaners by now. He’s doing you a favor by filtering out the gold-diggers.” I opened my mouth, but the words died in my throat. It was true that my last five girlfriends hadn’t exactly been saints, but was Todd any better? Before my last breakup, I’d secretly checked Juliette’s phone. Todd had flooded her DMs with thirst traps—shirts unbuttoned to his navel, gym mirror selfies. He’d even messaged her: “Want to come over and trace my V-cut?” They were all sickening. Todd leaned closer, the triumph practically oozing from his pores. “You’re not actually mad, are you? Honestly, I didn’t even expect it. I just casually chatted them up, and they all caught feelings. You can’t blame a guy for that, right?” “Course not,” Dustin echoed. “It’s just your natural charm, man. Unlike some people who think getting straight A’s means the whole world is going to fall at their feet.” Dustin and Brad exchanged a knowing, synchronized smirk. I ignored their petty high school dynamics, turning my attention back to my phone. The dorm room fell into a heavy silence for a few seconds. Then, Dustin let out a strangled gasp. “Holy shit. Guys, come look. Is that who I think it is?” He practically flattened his face against the dirty glass of our balcony window, craning his neck toward the courtyard. “It’s Sylvia! Sylvia Dupont! What the hell is the campus IT girl doing outside our building?” Todd and Brad scrambled to their feet, rushing to the window. “Damn, it really is her. What’s she doing here? Waiting for some guy?” “God, whoever it is just won the lottery. That’s Sylvia Dupont. She basically owns half the biotech industry in this city.” Dustin suddenly turned to Todd, his eyes wide. “Wait, Todd, didn’t you use to be tight with her? Does she have a guy now?” Todd’s face tightened. The smugness vanished, replaced by a tense, ugly silence. Tight with her. That was a generous way to phrase it. Todd had stalked Sylvia for six months, practically begging for her attention, and hadn’t even managed to get her number. I calmly grabbed my jacket and headed for the door. Todd’s arm shot out, blocking my path. “I thought you just broke up with Juliette. Where do you think you’re going?” I slapped his arm away. “I dumped Juliette three months ago. If you want my trash, feel free to keep it.” Right on cue, my phone vibrated in my hand. I answered it immediately. A cool, elegant voice drifted through the speaker. “Hey, baby. I’m downstairs.” “I’ll be right there.” Before I could pull the phone away, it was snatched from my grip. Todd glared at me. “No wonder you dropped Juliette. You already found a rebound.” He brought the phone to his mouth, his voice dropping an octave into that slick, practiced tone he used on women. “Hey there. I’m Rowan’s roommate, Todd. Are you his new girl?” I didn’t hear what the voice on the other end said, but Todd’s trademark smirk froze instantly. Seizing the moment of his paralysis, I ripped the phone from his hand and ended the call. A manic, ugly jealousy flared in Todd’s eyes. He stared at me like he wanted to peel my skin off. “Your new girlfriend… is Sylvia Dupont?” 2 “Bullshit,” Dustin scoffed, stepping away from the window. “There’s no way. Sylvia’s standards are atmospheric. Why would she look twice at him?” “Exactly,” Brad agreed. “Guys with trust funds line up down the block for her. Rowan? Please.” Todd remained silent, but he had forcibly smoothed his features back into a mask of indifference. He looked me up and down. “You didn’t just hire some random girl to impersonate Sylvia to mess with us, did you?” I looked at his face—a face that truly believed it had outsmarted the world—and a genuine laugh bubbled up in my chest. “Believe whatever helps you sleep at night, Todd.” I didn’t waste another breath on him. I turned and walked out, letting the door click shut behind me. Down in the courtyard, Sylvia was leaning casually against a cherry-red Lamborghini. When she saw me, she offered a small, lazy wave. The afternoon sunlight fractured through the elm trees, washing over her. She looked like a manifestation of old money and untouchable grace. No wonder Todd had obsessed over her for half a year. And it was exactly for that reason that I had agreed to date her. “Waiting long?” I asked. “Just pulled up. Get in.” With practiced elegance, Sylvia opened the passenger door for me. As I slid into the low leather seat, I glanced up. In the third-floor window of my dorm, three faces were pressed against the glass, contorted with a jealousy so raw it was almost tragic. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. Sylvia took me to the indoor courts at an exclusive, members-only country club. The air smelled of expensive cedar and fresh tennis balls. She stood behind me, her chest pressed lightly against my back, adjusting my grip on the racket. My phone buzzed in my pocket. Todd. “Are you at the racket club?” his voice came through the line, tight and demanding. I raised an eyebrow. The guy was like a phantom limb; an annoying, lingering itch. “What exactly do you want, Todd?” He immediately slipped into his victim voice. “Wow, what’s with the attitude? I’m just looking out for you, man. I don’t want you getting played.” “Sylvia isn’t playing me. Do us both a favor and stop calling.” I dropped the temperature of my voice to freezing and hung up. Sylvia stepped back, offering me a pristine white towel. She reached out, gently dabbing a bead of sweat from my temple. “Everything okay? Your roommate giving you grief?” I took the towel. “Yeah. Someone’s just losing his mind because my girlfriend is so far out of his league.” She let out a soft, breathy laugh and reached up to ruffle my hair. A split second later, a tennis ball whipped through the air, slamming hard into the space between Sylvia’s shoulder blades. She winced, her perfectly manicured brows knitting together as she spun around. Todd came jogging onto the court, his face a picture of exaggerated, frantic apology. “Oh my god, I am so, so sorry! I totally miscalculated the swing. Are you okay?” He leaned forward as he spoke. He was wearing a shirt unbuttoned halfway down his torso, making sure the slight flex of his chest was front and center. Sylvia raised an eyebrow. Her gaze swept over his face, lingering for a fraction of a second on his exposed chest, before settling into a look of absolute, glacial boredom. “I’m fine,” she said flatly. She grabbed my hand, turning to walk away. Todd lunged, grabbing her forearm. “No, please, I feel terrible. Let me get your number. At least let me buy you a new tennis skirt or dinner to make up for it.” Sylvia glanced down at his hand on her arm. A flicker of genuine disgust rippled through her eyes. “That won’t be necessary. I don’t give my number to strangers.” She turned back to me, the ice instantly melting from her features, replaced by a warm, honeyed gaze. “I’m sorry the vibe got ruined, baby. Let’s go. I’ll make it up to you tonight.” I smiled, casting a deeply satisfied look over my shoulder at Todd. He was rooted to the spot, his face a sickly shade of gray. My previous girlfriends would have politely declined him in front of me, sure. But I had always seen the hidden heat in their eyes. The secret thrill. And later, when I wasn’t looking, they always accepted his follow requests. Todd thought women were a monolith. He thought they were all the same. What a shame for him. This time, he’d run straight into Sylvia Dupont—a woman who couldn’t even be bothered to look at him twice. 3 I was extremely satisfied with Sylvia. Satisfied to the point where, for a fleeting moment, I almost believed she might actually be the exception. But sometimes, reality has a way of slapping you in the face when you least expect it. It happened on the day of the university’s theater rehearsals. I dropped by the auditorium to surprise her. I found her sitting in the dim lighting of the back rows, her shoulder pressed intimately against Todd’s. She was holding a plastic cup of iced coffee. She took a sip. Then, Todd leaned in, his lips wrapping around the exact same straw she had just used. He took a long drag. Without missing a beat, Sylvia took the cup back and drank from the very same straw. A violent, high-pitched ringing erupted in my ears. Sylvia glanced up and saw me. She froze for a fraction of a second. She followed my gaze, her eyes landing on the plastic straw. “Todd has low blood sugar,” she said smoothly, her voice completely even. “He almost passed out on stage twice. I just want to get through this rehearsal without holding up the entire cast.” With that, she shoved the rest of the iced coffee into Todd’s hands. “Finish it and get back on stage.” Todd took the cup. He took another agonizingly slow sip, locking eyes with me. A filthy, victorious smile spread across his face. “Your girl is a tough crowd, Rowan,” he whispered as he walked past me. “Takes a lot to get her pulse up.” He clapped my shoulder. “Looks like you finally found a keeper.” He walked away, his posture radiating the same arrogant swagger I’d seen a dozen times before. I stood paralyzed in the aisle, my heart hammering furiously against my ribs. I knew that look. That absolute, predatory certainty. I knew it intimately. Sensing the shift in my demeanor, Sylvia stood up and wrapped her arms around my waist. “Baby, don’t overthink this.” “The guy playing the lead got into a car accident. Todd stepped in at the last minute to save the production. It’s a favor I owe him, nothing more.” I nodded slowly, pulling her tightly against my chest. “Do you know… Todd has this thing about my girlfriends,” I murmured into her hair, letting my voice waver just enough. “He stole the last few. I’m just terrified that you’ll…” She squeezed me harder. “Hey. Look at me. The only man I love is you. Forever.” The words had barely left her mouth when her phone buzzed on the velvet seat. I caught a glimpse of the screen. A text from Todd. She glanced at it quickly, then pulled away from my embrace. “I have to get back to the crew. I’ll find you later, okay?” I watched her walk away, feeling my heart sink, millimeter by millimeter, into my stomach. I thought Sylvia was different. But it had barely taken a week for him to get her number. Over the next few days, Sylvia clearly sensed my manufactured depression. To cheer me up, she announced she was taking me out on her family’s yacht to introduce me to her inner circle of friends. I decided to play along and give her “one more chance.” The yacht was sprawling and extravagant, the teak deck lined with crystal champagne flutes and artisanal pastries. Sylvia paraded me around. “Everyone, this is my boyfriend, Rowan.” Her friends—a flock of polished girls in designer resort wear—smiled and offered polite, airy greetings. The vibe was decent enough. After the obligatory pleasantries, the conversation inevitably drifted to the Dupont family’s empire. “How’s the new pharmaceutical R&D coming along?” one of the girls asked. Sylvia’s flawless forehead creased. “We’ve hit a massive wall with one of the chemical synthesis stages. If I could just get a consultation with Dr. Alistair Roth, the cardiac specialist, we could push through. If this drags on any longer, all of our initial funding is going to vaporize.” Before the sentence was fully in the air, a familiar, grating voice chimed in. “Dr. Alistair Roth?” Todd strolled onto the deck, holding a glass of Moët, smiling like he owned the boat. “I know him,” Todd said smoothly. “My aunt is a senior pharmaceutical rep. She’s had dinner with Dr. Roth a bunch of times. If you need an intro, I can make it happen.” Sylvia’s head snapped up. A spark of genuine surprise—and calculation—flashed in her eyes. I stood slightly behind her, my fingers slowly curling into fists by my sides. Every ounce of Sylvia’s attention had been magnetically pulled to Todd. While they dove into a rapid, intense conversation about biotech connections, I quietly slipped my phone from my pocket. I opened a text thread with an unsaved number. “The fish took the bait. Execute the plan.”

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I called the cops. On the phone, I told the 911 dispatcher that my doctoral advisor had sexually assaulted me, leveraging his position of power. I added that he had drugged me. I made sure to emphasize one detail: my lab mate had witnessed the entire thing last night. He could testify. The catalyst for all of this was that very same lab mate. After failing to secure the coveted doctoral fellowship, he had started spreading vicious rumors. He told anyone who would listen that I had snuck into the professor’s office in the middle of the night, dressed like a cheap escort, and that was how I secured the only fully-funded Ph.D. spot in the department. Furious and desperate, I had gone to our advisor, begging him to clear my name. But the professor merely stood there, holding his artisanal teacup. He didn’t even look up at me. He said that a clear conscience needs no defense, and that the more I tried to explain myself, the guiltier I would look. He told me that if I truly put my mind to the science, I wouldn’t care about baseless gossip. He said I lacked mental discipline. Fine. If he thought I lacked discipline, I was about to show him exactly how disciplined I could be. 1 The day the fellowship list was posted, I saw my name—Maeve Gallagher—at the very top. The tension that had kept my nerves fraying for months finally snapped, replaced by a wave of profound relief. The dust had settled. I let out a long, shaky exhale. But the peace didn’t last. Later that afternoon, someone grabbed my arm and pulled me into the shadowed landing of the stairwell. It was Gemma, the senior researcher in our lab. Gemma was usually a force of nature, loud and bright, but right now, her face was stripped of its usual warmth. She looked at me with a complicated expression—a heavy, anxious sort of dread. “Maeve, did you cross someone recently?” She kept her voice low, her brows pulled tight. I blinked, instinctively shaking my head. “No? I’ve been practically chained to the centrifuge all month grinding out data. I haven’t even seen anyone.” Gemma’s expression darkened. She leaned in closer. “Then what the hell is going on with the talk in the lab? It’s spreading like wildfire, and they’ve got details.” “They’re saying… they’re saying that to get this fellowship, you went into Dr. Alden’s office in the middle of the night wearing a black silk slip dress. And that you didn’t come out until the next morning, with your eyes all red and swollen.” A loud ringing filled my ears. My brain instantly white-outs. Slip dress? Midnight? The office? These filthy little words strung together, pointing to the single most destructive conclusion you could pin on a female academic. I didn’t even need to think. A name ground out from between my teeth. “Who said it? Derek?” It couldn’t be anyone else. Derek. The golden boy. The senior lab mate who everyone—including himself—had assumed was a shoo-in for the fellowship. Gemma sighed, her eyes heavy with pity. “…It’s him. You know how he is. Ever since he saw the rejection email, he’s been acting like a lunatic.” “He’s telling everyone it was rigged, that Dr. Alden played favorites, that you…” She stopped, seemingly unable to stomach repeating the rest of the garbage. But I had heard enough. I shoved past the heavy fire door and sprinted down the hall toward the lab. The door was slightly ajar. Bursts of raucous, ugly laughter spilled out into the corridor. At the center of it all was Derek. He was surrounded by a few of the guys from the cohort, putting on an exaggerated, theatrical performance of a woman walking. He had one hand delicately holding up an imaginary skirt, the other brought to his mouth in mock coyness. He pitched his voice into a breathy, high-pitched whine. “Oh, Dr. Alden~ I’d do anything for that spot~” 2 The guys around him doubled over, howling. One of them chimed in with a sleazy drawl, “Man, the academic groupies are really taking the casting couch to the next level.” Derek flipped imaginary hair over his shoulder, a leering, oily grin spreading across his face. He dropped his voice, mimicking the cadence of a middle-aged man. “Well, Maeve, your… hard work… hasn’t gone unnoticed.” “Come here, sit a little closer. Let’s discuss your… biology.” “Hahahaha!” The lab shook with their laughter. Ice water flooded my veins. I shoved the door open so hard it slammed into the wall. Every sound died instantly. A dozen pairs of eyes whipped toward me. Shock, amusement, disgust, schadenfreude. Derek’s smile froze for a fraction of a second, but it quickly melted back into an expression of unmasked malice. He lazily straightened up, sauntering toward me with a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. His face, which I had once thought was reasonably handsome, looked grotesquely distorted by jealousy. “Well, if it isn’t the department’s rising star. Hey, Maeve.” He dragged the syllables out, his eyes brazenly raking down from my face to my chest. “Congratulations.” He took a step closer. I could smell the stale nicotine on his breath as he spoke down into my face. “You’ve got a really bright future ahead of you. Just make sure you keep Dr. Alden satisfied.” “After all, you worked so hard for that spot, right?” He leaned hard into the word “hard.” Around us, a few guys let out muffled, knowing snickers. I was shaking. Not from fear, but from a blinding, white-hot rage. I clenched my fists until my nails dug into my palms. Staring into Derek’s smug face, I asked, word by word: “Derek. Say that again.” “What? You didn’t hear me the first time?” He threw his hands up, playing the loud, arrogant victim. “I said, congrats on using your… special talents… to get the spot.” “What’s the matter? Brave enough to do it, but not brave enough to own it?” “I saw you that night, Maeve. Walking into his office in that little black slip.” He was feeding off his own lies, weaving details out of thin air, performing it so confidently you’d think he’d recorded it. “Oh, right. When you walked out the next morning, your eyes were all puffy. You’d been crying, huh?” “Did he play a little too rough? Man, I feel so bad for you.” “Hahahaha!” The crowd erupted into louder, uglier laughter. My lungs felt like they were collapsing. What had I sacrificed for this fellowship? From the day the application opened, I hadn’t slept before 2 AM. While the rest of them were out dating, catching movies, having a life, I was alone in this freezing lab, running dead-end assays over and over again. To crack one specific technical bottleneck, I stayed awake for three days straight. I collapsed in the hallway and woke up in the ER with an IV in my arm. Every single publication to my name was paid for in blood, sweat, and absolute isolation. I used to believe the world of science was a meritocracy. A pure place. I thought if you bled for the work and proved your brilliance, you would be recognized. But now? All my agonizing effort. All my pride. Erased in thirty seconds by Derek’s cheap, filthy lies. 3 To them, I wasn’t a scientist. I was a body. My intelligence was worthless; my ambition was a punchline. I was trembling violently now, my chest heaving, fighting for air. The sharp pain of my own nails cutting into my skin was the only thing keeping me tethered to reality. No. I couldn’t fight them here. You don’t wrestle with pigs; you both get dirty, but the pig likes it. The source of this power dynamic was the professor. He was the only one who could end this. If Dr. Richard Alden stood up and publicly confirmed the truth—that the selection was based purely on my academic record—these rumors would die instantly. I shot Derek a look of pure death. Then I turned on my heel and bolted down the hall toward the corner office. The door was cracked open, and the rich, earthy scent of high-end Oolong tea drifted out. Dr. Alden was standing with his back to the door at his mahogany credenza. He was meticulously going through the motions of his elaborate, imported tea ritual. Hot water cascaded over the leaves. White steam curled into the air, softening the edges of his silhouette. He looked exactly like what he wanted to project: an untouchable academic god, far removed from the petty concerns of the mortal world. I barged in. I had run so fast my breath was catching in my throat, making my voice shake. “Dr. Alden!” He jumped slightly, his hand jerking, spilling a drop of water. He turned around. Taking in my flushed face, red-rimmed eyes, and ragged breathing, his brow furrowed in deep distaste. “Maeve, what on earth are you yelling for? Running around in a panic. You lack composure.” I ignored the reprimand, taking three large steps toward him. The words spilled out of me in a frantic rush—what was happening in the lab, what Derek was saying, the horrific, graphic rumors destroying my reputation. I expected him to be shocked. I expected outrage. I expected him to march down that hallway and lay down the law to protect his student. Instead, he just listened. The muscles in his face didn’t so much as twitch. When I finally ran out of breath, he slowly picked up his cast-iron teapot. He poured the amber liquid into a delicate porcelain cup, picked it up, and blew gently across the rim. The silence stretched. Those few seconds felt like an eternity. Finally, he lifted his eyes to look at me. His gaze was entirely flat. There was no fire. No defense. “A clear conscience needs no defense.” “With things like this, Maeve, the more you protest, the more people assume you have something to hide. You protest too much, they think you’re guilty.” My stomach dropped out from under me. 4 “But Dr. Alden!” I pleaded, desperation clawing up my throat. “They’re dragging my name through the mud! This is going to permanently damage my reputation in this field!” “All you have to do is send an email, or walk out there and tell them none of this happened! If you clarify the selection process, they’ll stop!” He set the teacup down with a quiet clink. He looked at me, his eyes heavy with disappointment and mounting annoyance. “Maeve, I always thought you were one of the sharp ones. Someone with mental discipline. Why are you letting a little hallway gossip completely unravel you?” His voice rose an octave, taking on that patronizing, paternalistic tone he used during lectures. “If you truly put all your focus into the science, you wouldn’t care what other people say. Ultimately, your mind is too scattered. You lack academic discipline.” Discipline? I stared at him, totally unmoored. My reputation, my entire identity, was being violently dismantled right outside his door, and he was reducing it to a lack of focus? Just then, I heard a shuffle of footsteps. Derek and his entourage had followed me. They were crowded around the open doorway, craning their necks, stupid grins plastered on their faces as they waited for the show. Dr. Alden glanced at me, then looked past my shoulder, his eyes landing on Derek. Immediately, the professor’s brow smoothed out. His tone shifted entirely, softening into the indulgent exasperation of a father figure. “Derek, come in here.” Derek instantly dropped the sneer, adopting the posture of an obedient, respectful student as he walked in. “Apologize to your peer,” Dr. Alden said, picking up his tea again. “You are all colleagues. You have to work together in this lab.” “There’s a line with jokes, Derek. Don’t cross it.” Jokes. A block of ice slid down my spine. Taking the out he was just handed, Derek turned to me. A completely hollow, mocking smile tugged at his lips. “Sorry, Maeve. You know me, big mouth, no filter. Don’t take it personally.” The second the words left his mouth, a chorus of muffled snickering erupted from the peanut gallery in the doorway. They looked at me, their eyes bright with even more contempt than before. And then I looked at Dr. Alden. My mentor. The man whose intellect and integrity I had worshipped for two years. He was smiling. A faint, tolerant smile. Like he was watching a bunch of toddlers squabble over a toy. To him, this was a harmless little drama. And I was the hysterical, over-sensitive girl ruining the vibe of his lab. In that split second, watching this sickening tableau, something inside me died. And something else woke up. I understood perfectly. To Alden, Derek might have lost the fellowship, but he was still the golden boy, a favored son he’d mentored for years. I was just a tool. A disposable asset. He was never going to protect me. They all stood there, waiting for me to crack. Waiting for me to run out crying, or swallow my pride and shrink back to my bench. They assumed this would blow over and become a permanent, unspoken stain on my record. I looked at Alden’s hypocritical, serene face. I looked at Derek’s smug, punchable smirk. I looked at the eyes in the doorway, gleaming with malice. The fire in my chest burned away the last thread of my hesitation. 5 Okay. You think this is a joke? You think I lack discipline? Let me show you exactly what someone with “no discipline” is capable of. I took a deep, steadying breath. With every eye in the room glued to me, I slowly reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. I unlocked it, opened the keypad, and, making sure my movements were deliberate and clear, punched in three numbers. 9 – 1 – 1.

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The homecoming party was in full swing, the air thick with the scent of expensive cologne and the desperate nostalgia of people trying to prove they hadn’t aged. We were deep into a game of Truth or Dare, the kind that starts as a joke and ends in bloodshed. Mallory drew the Truth card. She leaned back, her dewy, expectant eyes fixed on Barry, the man sitting right next to her. She tossed out a question that cut through the laughter like a jagged blade: “In this life, have you ever—even for a second—regretted marrying your wife? If the answer is yes, take a shot.” The rowdy penthouse suite went silent. You could have heard a pin drop on the marble floor. Dozens of eyes shifted, landing heavily on us. I was the wife. Barry’s partner of five years. I was sitting right there, my hand inches from his. Barry didn’t say a word. He simply reached for the heavy crystal glass on the table, tipped his head back, and swallowed the neat bourbon in one jagged gulp. As he set the glass down, his hand trembled. It was the second time I’d seen his hands shake like that. The first was five years ago, the night we got our marriage license. He had spent that entire night in his study, staring at an old Polaroid of Mallory until the sun came up. My throat tightened, a bitter ache blooming behind my ribs. I stood up to leave, but his fingers clamped around my wrist with bruising force. “Cassie, they’re just messing around,” he whispered, his voice thick with urgency. “Don’t take it seriously.” I looked down at his hand gripping mine, and for the first time in half a decade, I realized how exhausting this performance had become. … The atmosphere in the room had plummeted below freezing. One of the guys at the table let out a forced, nervous laugh, trying to patch the hole Barry had just punched in the night. “Come on, Mallory, that was a low blow. You know Barry worships the ground Cassie walks on. He literally moved his entire operation to Vancouver just so she could have that house she wanted.” Barry’s fingers squeezed my palm under the table, a silent plea. I gave in to the pressure and sat back down, my body feeling like a wooden mannequin. To kill the awkwardness, Barry grabbed the mic from the center of the table, pivoting the conversation with practiced ease. “Enough of that. Winter’s coming up. Who’s thinking about a ski trip? My treat.” The room erupted into a cacophony of suggestions—Aspen, Whistler, Saint-Moritz. Then Mallory spoke up, her voice soft but perfectly timed. “I want to go back to Vancouver. To see the maples.” She swirled the wine in her glass, looking far away. “A long time ago, someone told me that the red maples in the Pacific Northwest are like fire. He said it was the perfect place to build a life. He even promised to build me a timber cabin right under the trees.” The room went quiet again. Someone asked, “So, what happened?” Mallory smiled, her gaze cutting through the crowd and locking onto Barry. “He gave the cabin to someone else.” A collective sigh went up. People started teasing her, joking about how even a “Goddess” like Mallory had a ‘one that got away’ story. I turned my head slightly. Barry’s jaw was set so tight the bone looked like it might snap. A vein pulsed at his temple. The house we shared in Vancouver was a timber-framed masterpiece in the hills of West Van. The yard was filled with ancient, towering maples. I had spent five years believing he’d chosen that house because he knew I loved the autumn. I remembered moving in. He hadn’t looked at me that day. He had stood on the deck, staring at the carpet of fallen red leaves for hours. I thought he was just tired from the move. Now I knew. He wasn’t looking at our home. He was looking at the ghost of a promise he’d made to a different woman. A sharp cramp twisted in my stomach. I stood up again, grabbing my coat. Barry was behind me in seconds, catching me in the hallway. “Cassidy, what now? What are you doing?” “I’m going back to the hotel, Barry.” “Is this because of the game? It was a joke! Can you not be so sensitive for once? We finally made it back home, we’re seeing old friends—can’t you just let us have one nice night?” His voice was laced with that familiar, patronizing impatience. Before I could respond, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed around the corner. Mallory appeared, her eyes red-rimmed. She stopped a few feet away, looking like a wounded bird. Barry’s entire body went rigid. His grip on my arm tightened unconsciously. Then, in a sudden, jarring shift, he leaned down and adjusted the collar of my coat. His voice dropped to a tender, performative silkiness. “Is it too loud in there, baby? Let’s get you out of here. I’ll walk you.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to my cheek. I stood there, hollowed out. In five years of marriage, Barry had never been this physically affectionate in public. “Barry,” Mallory called out from behind us. Barry turned, his brow furrowed in a display of annoyance that felt a second too late to be real. “What are you doing out here? Your date is waiting for you in the suite. I’m taking my wife home.” He tucked me under his arm, steering me toward the elevator. But his eyes didn’t stay on the doors. Every few steps, he stole a glance back over his shoulder. This “gentle husband” routine was a weapon. I was just the prop he was using to make Mallory bleed. We stepped out of the club into the cool night air. Barry walked beside me, his mind clearly miles away. We stopped at a 24-hour apothecary to pick up emergency heart medication for my foster mother, Martha. Her heart had been failing, and Barry had promised to help me get the best specialists once we settled back in the States. As I picked up the box, Barry’s phone buzzed. It was a specific, rhythmic vibration. I knew it. It was his ‘Priority’ alert—the one he’d told me was reserved for emergency board meetings. He glanced at the screen, and his face went pale. He turned away immediately to take the call. When he hung up, he couldn’t look me in the eye. “Cassie, something came up at the office. A crisis at the regional branch. I have to go. Take a cab back to the hotel, okay?” Before I could even nod, he was gone, disappearing into the neon-lit shadows of the street. I put the medication back on the shelf. I didn’t take a cab. I followed him. Two blocks away, in a secluded corner of a small park, I watched my husband—the man who had “urgent business”—wrap his arms around Mallory. She was sobbing into his chest, telling him how much her date disgusted her, how much she regretted letting him go years ago. Barry was stroking her hair, his touch infinitely more genuine than the kiss he’d given me in the hallway. I felt a ghost of a smile touch my lips as tears hit the wool of my coat. The thread that had held me together for five years finally snapped. I pulled out my phone and dialed his number. A few yards away, under the yellow glow of a streetlamp, the two of them stayed locked together. There was no sound from Barry’s pocket. He hadn’t just ignored me. He had put me on ‘Do Not Disturb.’ The red maples in Vancouver were beautiful, I realized. But they were never planted for me. Just as Barry had been a “good” husband, but he had never belonged to me. I stared at my call logs—the missed calls from yesterday when I’d tried to tell him about Martha’s worsening condition. Once, Barry had been the darling of the private equity world, a “cold-blooded” prince whom every debutante in the city wanted to taming. But he had chosen me—a girl from a middle-class background, a professional ballet dancer with nothing but a dream. When I shattered my ankle in a freak stage accident, ending my career, Barry had been there. He found the best surgeons. He flew me to Paris and London to see shows, trying to piece my broken identity back together. I thought it was love. Now I saw it for what it was: a project. A way to fill the Mallory-shaped hole in his life with a grateful, broken girl who would never ask for more than he was willing to give. When I got back to the hotel, the room felt like a tomb. Half an hour later, the door card beeped. Barry walked in, tossing his blazer onto the chair. He looked lighter, energized. His mood was a thousand times better than it had been at the party. He set his phone on the bar and went to get a glass of water. The screen lit up. A notification popped. Mallory: [I only brought that date tonight to make you jealous. Seeing you catch fire for me… it made me so happy.] Barry came back, his eyes falling on the screen. He froze. He lunged for the phone, killing the display. I sat on the sofa, watching him with a terrifying clarity. “Why didn’t you text her back?” Barry’s face darkened instantly. He slammed the water glass onto the marble counter, splashing the surface. “Cassidy, are you seriously doing this right now?” “Doing what, Barry?” “This! This relentless, insecure nagging! I am exhausted. I’m running a multi-million dollar expansion, dealing with administrative nightmares, and I come home to you playing detective over a harmless text. I’ve had enough.” I listened to his accusations. My nails bit into my palms. He was the one who had cheated. He was the one who had spent the night holding another woman. And yet, I was the one who was “unreasonable.” I let go of my hands and saw the red crescents in my skin. I spoke softly. “I want a divorce.” Barry paused, his anger faltering. He lowered his voice, shifting back into the ‘reasonable’ husband. “Look, Cassie, Mallory was just being dramatic. It was a joke. We’re friends. Don’t overthink it.” I didn’t answer. I didn’t look at him. He didn’t care. He checked his watch. “Just… calm down. I have a late dinner meeting with some investors. Make sure you have some aspirin ready when I get back, I have a headache.” He grabbed his keys and walked out. The strength left my body. I slid off the sofa onto the carpet. My old ankle injury began to throb with a dull, sickening ache. My forehead felt like it was on fire. The stress of the move and the emotional wreckage had finally broken my immune system. I found a thermometer in the medical kit. 102.2. As I lay curled in bed, shivering under the duvet, my phone buzzed. It was a voice memo from Mallory. Sixty seconds long. I hit play. Her voice, breathless and coquettish, filled the room. “Barry… we shouldn’t be doing this…” Then came the sounds. Barry’s heavy breathing. The unmistakable, wet sounds of a desperate kiss. “It’s you, Mallory. It’s always been you,” Barry’s voice rasped. “The marriage was just a distraction for my parents. I’m back now. Don’t leave again. I’ll find a way to take care of Cassidy, I’ll pay her off.” The warmth drained out of the bed. I stared at the ceiling. Those sixty seconds felt like a century of ice. The screen went dark, then lit up again. My wallpaper was a photo of us in front of the maples in Vancouver, dressed for a gala. With shaking hands, I changed the background to a plain, clinical white. Then I threw the phone. It shattered against the TV screen with a satisfying crack. I picked up the hotel landline and dialed my lawyer. “Draft the papers. Everything. Now.” Then, the darkness took me. I woke up to the smell of bleach and the hiss of an IV. A nurse saw me open my eyes. “You had a febrile seizure,” she said gently. “The hotel staff found you. You should call your family.” Family. I borrowed her phone to log into my accounts. My feed was an absolute nightmare. Mallory had sent a barrage of “leaked” photos—intimate, suggestive shots of her and Barry—directly to me, accompanied by taunting messages. Barry’s “clean” reputation was a joke. In a final act of cold, hard defiance, I took every single one of those disgusting photos and forwarded them to our old alumni group chat. The group exploded. Three seconds later, the nurse’s phone rang. It was Barry, his voice vibrating with pure, unadulterated rage. “Cassidy, have you lost your mind?!” “The photos were an accident, they didn’t mean anything! You’re going to destroy Mallory’s reputation!” I listened to his fury, my eyes dead, my throat like sandpaper. “I’m in the hospital. I have a fever.” “I don’t care where you are!” he screamed. “Go into that chat right now and tell them your account was hacked! Tell them you made it up!” He hung up. I watched the IV drip, one bead at a time. Half an hour later, the door swung open. Mallory threw herself onto her knees by my bed, sobbing uncontrollably. “Cassie, please, I was drunk! Barry was just trying to make you jealous! The whole group is calling me a homewrecker. How am I supposed to live? Please, tell them it wasn’t real…” Barry pulled her up, his eyes full of loathing as he looked at me. “When did you become so cruel, Cassidy? This has nothing to do with her. I forced her into it. Are you really going to try and ruin her life?” He stepped closer, his voice a low growl. “You will go into that chat. You will tell them you Photoshopped those images to slander her because you were jealous.” I looked at him, truly looked at him. They were the ones who had cheated, yet I was the villain. When I didn’t answer, Barry’s face twisted. He pulled up a photo on his own phone and held it in front of my face. “If you don’t do it, I’ll send this to Martha.” It was a photo from my early days in the ballet conservatory. I had been bullied by a group of older girls who had stripped me and photographed me in the locker room to humiliate me. Barry had used his family’s influence back then to bury the story and the photos. He had held me while I cried, promising to protect me forever. Now, he was using my deepest trauma as a weapon to protect the woman he’d cheated with. I laughed. It was a dry, hollow sound. I ripped the IV out of my arm, ignored the blood, and followed him to a private room in the restaurant where he had gathered our old “friends.” In front of everyone, I spoke the words he wanted. “I lied about Mallory. The photos were fakes.” “She didn’t break up my marriage. I did this because I’m mentally unstable. I was jealous of her…” Before I could finish, a glass of scalding tea splashed across my face. “You’re sick, Cassidy! To use something like that against her!” “No wonder Barry can’t stand you. You’re a goddamn lunatic.” The heat on my cheek was searing. Blisters began to form instantly. Barry saw my pale, trembling face and took a half-step forward, his voice low. “Why are you looking like that? Why are your hands so cold?” I flinched away from him, my voice a broken whisper. “Give me the original files. Give me the photos of me.” His hand froze in mid-air. His face turned to stone. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a stack of printed copies of my locker room humiliation, and threw them into the air. They fluttered down like snow. I dropped to the floor, crawling on the grease-stained tiles, trying to gather the pieces of my dignity while our “friends” watched with disgust. Just then, my phone—the nurse’s phone in my pocket—rang. It was the hospital back home. “Is this Cassidy? I’m so sorry… Your mother, Martha… she saw some photos online. She had a massive heart attack. We’re in the ER. You need to get here now to sign the papers.” I looked up, catching Mallory’s eyes. She looked away, but there was a flicker of triumph there. I lunged at her, my fingers catching her throat. “What did you send my mother?!” Mallory shrieked, struggling. “Barry, help! I didn’t do anything!” Martha was the only light in my life. She was the woman who had worked three jobs to pay for my pointe shoes. Barry didn’t hesitate. He shoved me away with such force I hit the floor again. “Have you had enough?!” he roared. “You and that mother of yours, always with the drama! Always pretending to be the victim to get what you want!” I didn’t care about the blood on my forehead where I’d hit the table. I scrambled for the door. “If you walk out that door,” Barry yelled after me, “don’t ever think about coming back!” The image of Martha gasping for air filled my mind. I turned and dropped to my knees, my head hitting the cold floor in a desperate plea. “Barry, please. Drive me to the hospital. My mom is dying. Please.” For a split second, Barry looked shaken. But then Mallory clutched her chest, gasping for air. “Barry… I can’t breathe… she choked me… take me to the ER…” Barry didn’t look at me again. He scooped Mallory up in his arms and ran toward the parking garage. I ran after them, one shoe missing, limping on my ruined ankle. I pounded on his car window. “Barry, please! Just let me catch a ride, I can’t find a cab here!” The locks clicked. Thump. The window rolled down halfway, revealing his cold, beautiful face. “Your lies are getting pathetic, Cassidy.” The car roared to life. As he accelerated, he didn’t see my right leg. The door frame clipped me, throwing me down, and the heavy rear tire rolled directly over my ankle. A scream tore through the garage, but the car didn’t stop. I rolled on the concrete, the pain so intense I was vomiting. I looked at the “friends” leaving the club. They stepped around me like I was trash. “You deserve it, after those photos you took.” The phone rang again. “Cassidy… I’m so sorry. We did everything we could. She’s gone.” My world didn’t just break. It vanished. A text from Barry popped up. [Mallory is shaken up. I’m staying with her while she gets checked out.] [Stop playing dead. I’ll bring you that chocolate mousse you like on the way back. Let’s just move past this.] His cake. His ‘moving past this.’ I felt a wave of nausea so strong it eclipsed the pain in my leg. Across town, in the hospital, Barry felt a sudden, sharp pang in his chest. He tossed his keys to his assistant and hailed a cab back to the hotel. He pushed open the suite door, and his heart stopped. He walked into the bedroom, the silence ringing in his ears. “Cassie?” he called out, tugging at his tie. The walk-in closet was open. It was empty. Every suitcase, every dress, every scrap of her life was gone. He went to the vanity. It was bare. The maple leaf necklace he’d given her—the one she never took off—was gone. Barry’s pulse began to race. He started tearing through drawers, his breathing coming in ragged gasps. He ran to the living room, and his eyes landed on the coffee table. There sat the remains of her shattered phone. Underneath it were a few thin sheets of paper. Barry’s vision blurred. He picked them up. Five words in bold black ink: PETITION FOR DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE.

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After we’d made love for the 99th time, my husband brought up that meek intern. I laughed and teased, “Don’t tell me you like her?” A flicker of panic crossed his eyes before he met my gaze. “That girl? She could never be as good in bed as you.” But later, I walked in on them tangled together on our marriage bed. The intern’s clothes were half-undone as she leaned against my husband. I didn’t cry, didn’t make a scene, didn’t demand answers. I calmly burned the 99 ticket stubs from the international flights he’d taken for me. Then I flew to London and married my stepbrother, who had been secretly in love with me for years. Serena’s POV Adrian Thorne pursued me for five whole years. From our home country all the way abroad, taking 99 international flights before I finally agreed to be with him. But in the fourth year of our marriage, Adrian suddenly became obsessed with an intern. The intern had an innocent look. Though her family was poor, her personality was extremely proud. Not only did she throw the roses he had air-shipped to her into the trash, she also publicly tore up the astronomically expensive check he handed her, declaring, “No matter how poor I am, I’ll never be anyone’s mistress!” If anyone else had made such a scene, Adrian would have turned cold long ago. But this time, not only was he not angry, he became even more obsessed, even more unable to control himself. He pursued that intern so openly that everyone knew about it, as if he’d forgotten he had a wife at home whom he’d worked so hard to marry. I once cried until my eyes were red and swollen, demanding to know. If he was so infatuated with Gianna Carson, what did all his promises to me mean? And he said carelessly, “Serena, she’s different from all other women.” “I’ve never seen a woman who doesn’t cling to power or care about money. She’s fresh and interesting.” “I just want to see what it takes to make her let go of her pride and willingly let me conquer her.” “Serena, I do love you. But life is long. It’s normal for me to occasionally be interested in someone else. You need to give me some space.” Adrian hurt me so deeply I wanted to die, yet I couldn’t easily let go. So from then on, I stopped fighting and making scenes. Instead, I found the plane tickets he’d saved from when he pursued me. He once won my heart with 99 tickets. So I decided that every time he hurt me, I would burn one. When all 99 tickets were completely burned, that would be the day I left him for good. The second ticket burned on our wedding anniversary. He left me alone at the restaurant. He spent the whole night at the office, just to help that girl revise her proposal. The thirty-third ticket burned the day he left me curled up alone in the emergency room with stomach pain. He rushed off to pick up the girl who’d worked late. Just because she said, “It’s raining and I can’t get a ride.” The seventy-ninth ticket burned the day he pulled my art exhibition from the gallery. I’d prepared it for half a year. He made room for that girl’s project. He replaced my work with the intern’s immature design sketches. The ninety-sixth ticket burned at our mutual friend’s birthday party. Adrian and I attended the party together, but as soon as we arrived, we ran into Gianna Carson, who was working there as a server. Just because Gianna glanced at the ruby necklace around my neck, Adrian reached out, yanked it from my neck, and held it out to Gianna. “You seem to really like it. It’s yours now.” His voice was gentle. “This necklace would go perfectly with that black dress of yours.” Everyone’s eyes turned to me. Before I could react, Gianna pushed his hand away. “Mr. Thorne, I’ve told you. I will never accept pursuit from a married man, and I don’t need your charity or gifts. Please respect me and return the necklace to Miss Wells.” She turned her gaze to me. “Miss Wells, please control your husband and stop him from interfering with my work.” With that, she took her tray and turned to leave. “Such a temper.” Not only was Adrian not angry, he actually chuckled softly. “Since she doesn’t want it, Serena, you keep it.” He casually shoved the necklace at me. Before I could catch it, he abandoned the guests at the party and hurried after her. The necklace slipped through my fingers. The ruby worth hundreds of millions clattered to the floor. No one at the scene spoke. To ease the awkward atmosphere, someone came forward to pick up the ruby necklace and carefully handed it to me. “Serena, don’t be upset. Adrian just wants some novelty.” “Exactly. Men are all like that. They just want something new. Once the novelty wears off, he’ll come back to the family.” The others all agreed. I looked at that ruby necklace, my heart throbbing with sharp pain. This one-of-a-kind ruby necklace was a birthday gift Adrian had bought for me at auction for hundreds of millions the year we got married. At the time, I thought the necklace was too valuable, but he said, “As long as you like it, even if it’s the stars in the sky, I’ll pluck them down for you.” And now, he’d so brazenly tried to give it to someone else, and when she refused, he tossed it back to me like some cheap trinket. Most ironic of all, the woman he couldn’t have had the audacity to tell me, the legitimate wife, to control my own husband. My entire heart felt like it was being pierced by a thousand needles, over and over again. My face pale, I forced a smile at the person in front of me. “I don’t want this necklace anymore. If you like it, keep it. If not, sell it or donate it.” After that, I gave the prepared gift to tonight’s guest of honor, wished them a happy birthday, and soon left the party under everyone’s pitying or mocking gazes. Back at the villa, I opened the box on my vanity, took out a yellowed ticket stub, and lit it with my lighter. The ninety-sixth ticket was consumed by flames, becoming ash that would scatter with a breath. The light in my eyes also gradually extinguished. I thought that he only had three chances left. Three more times, and I would completely let go of him and leave him forever.

Serena’s POV The next day, I woke to find Twitter flooded with news about Adrian and Gianna Carson. Someone had captured last night at the party. The image of him chasing closely after Gianna’s retreating figure. Someone had photographed him. He was usually so high and mighty. Now he was half-crouching, half-kneeling before Gianna. He was personally changing her out of her high heels. And someone had posted a video. In the video, Gianna’s foot seemed to be sprained. Adrian wanted to take her home, but she limped away, stubbornly refusing to get in his car. Adrian threw away his cigarette, strode over and scooped her up in his arms, ignoring her struggles and protests as he forcibly put her in his Maybach. Under this video, mutual friends of Adrian and mine were all sighing. “Looks like Adrian’s serious this time. Pursuing an intern so publicly, willing to humble himself before her. I’ve never seen him like this.” “I heard that for this intern, he now stays at the company all day, just circling around her. He didn’t even pursue Serena like this, did he?” “Hey, you probably don’t know yet. Last night he not only tried to give the necklace meant for Serena to this intern, he also chased after the intern right in front of Serena. If I were Serena, I’d be so embarrassed I’d want to crawl into a hole.” “Damn, Adrian pursued Serena from our home country all the way abroad for five whole years! If he doesn’t even care about Serena anymore, he must really be in love with this intern.” Reading this, my fingers trembled, my heart constricted as if tightly bound by fine thread. Because of my own family background, I once never believed there was a man in this world who wouldn’t change his heart. Until I met Adrian Thorne. Adrian fell in love with me at first sight and pursued me fiercely. Even when I rejected him again and again, he never gave up. Later, when I went abroad to study, he flew 99 times, crossing 12 time zones. For five whole years, from home to abroad, he proved his sincerity with time and action before I finally believed in his love and agreed to be with him. We went from campus to wedding. After marriage, we were very happy. Everyone said Adrian loved me deeply. Until the fourth year of marriage, when a new batch of interns joined the company. At a project presentation, Gianna Carson nervously gave wrong data. When questioned by executives, she blushed but still tried hard to explain. That look made him freeze. Later, he promoted her, wanting to transfer her to work beside him. But Gianna righteously refused. “Mr. Thorne, I hope to be recognized for my own abilities and efforts, not by relying on someone to take shortcuts.” There was even a time at the company when Gianna said to me in front of Adrian, “Miss Wells, please remind Mr. Thorne not to give me special treatment anymore. It makes me very uncomfortable.” That was the first time I experienced what humiliation felt like. And from then on, Adrian seemed to have discovered something novel, finding her extremely interesting. No matter how much I fought or made scenes, he never cared about my feelings again. He pursued Gianna openly and passionately, with an air of determination to win her. To this day, I still remember how happy he was when I finally agreed to be with him. On the day of our grand wedding, he solemnly promised me. “Serena, I swear I will only love you in this life. I will never betray you, never change my heart, and love you forever.” At the time, I truly believed him. In the end, five years of pursuit, four years of marriage. His forever lasted only nine years combined. Outside, I suddenly heard a car pulling into the villa. I knew Adrian was home. I got up and left the bedroom, standing at the second-floor stairway landing. I saw Adrian carrying Gianna Carson into the villa. “Put me down! Let me go!” Gianna protested in his arms. “I can walk by myself!” Adrian looked down at her. “Your foot is injured. How can you walk yourself?” “That’s my business. You don’t need to worry about it!” “If I don’t worry about you, who will? You’re so stubborn.” Though his words expressed dissatisfaction, Gianna wasn’t struggling violently in his arms, and Adrian certainly wasn’t going to put her down. Adrian instructed the housekeeper to prepare the guest bedroom while carrying Gianna upstairs. Looking up, his eyes met mine on the stairs.

Serena’s POV Adrian’s steps paused slightly. Gianna seemed to notice something too. She turned her head in his arms and saw me standing quietly at the top of the stairs. Her expression showed a hint of awkwardness, but she quickly resumed that cold, distant look and tried to struggle. “Mr. Thorne, put me down. I can walk myself.” “Don’t move.” Adrian tightened his arms and continued walking up with her, stopping in front of me. He looked at me, his tone as calm as if stating the most ordinary matter. “Serena, Gianna’s foot is injured. The hospital conditions aren’t as good as home, so I brought her back. It’s also more convenient to take care of her here. During this time, she’ll stay here to recover.” Gianna immediately chimed in, looking reluctant and proud. “Miss Wells, please don’t misunderstand. I didn’t want to come. He insisted on forcibly bringing me from the hospital. I’m being forced too.” Adrian glanced down at her, a helpless yet indulgent smile appearing on his handsome face. “Yes, I forced you. Happy now?” Then he looked up at me. “Serena, Gianna is just temporarily staying here to recover. Don’t hurt her.” My gaze moved from Adrian’s smiling face to Gianna Carson’s innocent yet stubborn face in his arms, then slowly swept over the subtle atmosphere between them that outsiders couldn’t penetrate. The place in my chest seemed to have gone numb from pain, or perhaps I’d long grown accustomed to this dull knife grinding into flesh. “I understand.” I calmly withdrew my gaze, turned around, and walked back to the master bedroom. The door closed behind me, shutting out everything outside. I walked to the vanity, pulled open that delicate jewelry box, and took out a plane ticket and lighter. The lighter’s flame leaped up, igniting the paper’s corner, slowly burning another ticket to ash. The ninety-seventh. Two left. I looked at those ashes, my eyes empty, as if what burned along with them was what remained of my feelings for Adrian. Gianna was arranged to stay in the guest bedroom next door. I sat in the wicker chair on the master bedroom balcony, looking at the newly bloomed magnolias in the courtyard below. Suddenly, I saw several luxury shopping delivery vehicles pull into the villa one after another. Staff members got out carrying large and small shopping bags printed with various luxury brand logos. Those expensive clothes, bags, and shoes were continuously delivered to the guest bedroom. But before long, the sound of various items being thrown out came from the guest bedroom. I walked out the door and quietly watched the farce they were creating. “Adrian Thorne!” Gianna’s voice carried obvious anger and the humiliation of being offended. “I told you I won’t accept anything from you! Take all of this away!” “Alright, alright.” I heard Adrian’s voice. He was so patient. “Your foot is injured. Don’t move around. These are all prepared for you. If you don’t like these styles, I’ll have them bring different ones.” “I don’t need them! Adrian Thorne, even though you forcibly brought me here, that doesn’t mean I’ve accepted you, and it certainly doesn’t mean I’ll accept your gifts!” Adrian’s voice held hidden helplessness. “You’re staying here. You can’t not have a change of clothes and daily necessities.” “If you insist I stay here to recover, then please have someone bring my things over. I only want my own clothes and daily necessities. Otherwise, I’m leaving right now. Even if I have to crawl, I’ll crawl back!” Her voice was stubborn and unyielding. If it were anyone else making such a fuss, Adrian would have been furious long ago. But facing Gianna, the indulgence in his eyes nearly overflowed as he compromised. “Fine. I’ll personally go get your things. Satisfied? Rest well in your room. Don’t wander around. If you need anything, call the servants in the villa.” Only then did Gianna’s expression soften, though her face remained cold. “Thank you for the trouble, Mr. Thorne.” Adrian quickly went downstairs, actually going personally to fetch Gianna’s things. I returned to the balcony and watched the Maybach drive away from the villa. I suddenly felt like laughing. Before, Adrian used to dote on me this extremely too. He could even drive 20 kilometers to a Michelin restaurant just because I had no appetite, personally buying my favorite cupcakes to coax me. Back then, I thought I would be his only one, the person for whom he could abandon all pride and status to love. But now, the person he abandoned his status to love had become another woman. I forcibly suppressed the emotions in my heart, then picked up my phone and dialed a number. “Attorney Hunter, please help me prepare a divorce agreement.”

Serena’s POV Putting away my phone, I pulled open the bedroom door and walked out. Passing by the guest bedroom, that half-open door was suddenly pulled open. Gianna, leaning on crutches and standing by the door, called out to me. “Miss Wells.” I stopped. “Yes?” Gianna looked me over, her gaze sweeping across my plain yet haggard face. The corner of her mouth curved slightly, but quickly returned to a straight line. She lifted her chin. “Doesn’t Mr. Thorne love you very much? I heard back then he pursued you so passionately, everyone knew about it. How is it that now, you can’t even keep your own husband’s heart?” My fingers at my sides curled slightly. “It’s all because you can’t control him that he’s stuck to me like chewing gum, causing me endless trouble. Now I’m not only forced to stay in your villa, I can’t even go to the office or do my part-time jobs.” Gianna looked accusatory and complaining, but I could hear the superiority and mockery she couldn’t hide. Suddenly, I smiled. “What are you laughing at?” Gianna frowned. “What’s so funny?” I raised my eyes to look directly at her, that gaze seeming able to penetrate all her pretenses. “Miss Carson, do you really… not feel anything at all for Adrian?” A flash of panic quickly crossed Gianna’s eyes, but it was only for an instant. Her brows furrowed tighter, her voice suddenly rising as if insulted and angry. “What nonsense are you talking about?! Of course not! Miss Wells, please don’t make assumptions! I may be poor, I may not compare to you and Mr. Thorne’s backgrounds, but even if I’m poor, I have self-respect and pride! I could never be attracted to someone who’s already married!” She became more and more agitated as she spoke, as if greatly insulted. “You can’t keep Mr. Thorne’s heart yourself. Are you trying to blame me for seducing him now? Besides, I’ve refused his pursuit countless times. It’s Mr. Thorne who insists on pestering me! Is that my fault too?” After hearing her out, I was genuinely curious. “Since you don’t want to be pestered by him, why do you still stay at his company instead of leaving?” Gianna said righteously, “I got into Thorne Group through my own abilities and efforts in the interview. Why should I give up the career and future I worked hard for because of Mr. Thorne’s personal behavior?” “True.” I nodded, completely agreeing with that statement. “You indeed have no reason to give up your career to avoid his pestering. However…” I suddenly changed tack. “If you truly felt nothing for him, why would you frequently take part-time jobs at his usual private clubs, high-end restaurants, and even private parties like the previous one?” Gianna’s expression changed slightly, but she still insisted, “Miss Wells, those were all just coincidences. I’ll say it again, I don’t…” “Actually, admitting you have feelings for him isn’t something shameful.” I interrupted her, my tone unchanged. “After all, he’s handsome, wealthy, has high status, and is willing to lower himself for you. Being attracted is understandable.” Gianna opened her mouth to refute, but her throat seemed blocked by something. She was actually speechless. I smiled, though the smile didn’t reach my eyes. “You really don’t need to put on this proud act in front of me. I truly can’t keep his heart, and I can’t control him either. So if you like him, then just like him.” After all, I would be leaving soon anyway. As my words fell, I turned and left without looking at Gianna’s expression. I went out and picked up the drafted divorce agreement from the lawyer. I stayed out until evening before returning to the villa. Just stepping through the villa entrance, I immediately saw Adrian sitting on the living room sofa with a dark expression. I frowned and walked over, wanting to hand him the divorce agreement to sign. But he raised his cold eyes and asked me first, in an icy tone, “What did you say to Gianna?”

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After my son was put to sleep, Fiona tucked in his blanket. “William, you go to Marcus’s parent-teacher conference tomorrow by yourself. I’m not going.” I froze. Her tone was helpless. “Thiago’s son also has a parent-teacher conference tomorrow. As his biological mother, I’ve already been absent for eight years. I can’t miss it this time.” My mind was buzzing. “What did you say?” Thiago was Fiona’s brother-in-law… Fiona took my hand, smiling gently. “I’ve neglected them both, father and son, for so many years. Don’t compete with them this time. If Marcus’s teacher asks, just tell them we’re divorced.” She smiled and ruffled my hair, then turned to go to the study to make a phone call. I stood in the living room, my heart sinking to the bottom in an instant. Fiona, you’re right. I really should get divorced… When Fiona came out of the study, I was still standing in the living room. My legs had gone numb, but I couldn’t feel a thing. She picked up the car keys, as if suddenly remembering something. “Tomorrow, buy a gift for Matias. It’s the boy’s birthday. As his mother, I haven’t given him anything in all these years. I don’t know what he likes.” I looked up at her. “When did you get together with him?” She paused, glanced at me, and smiled. “When you were hospitalized after your car accident.” With that, Fiona walked over, her eyes full of amusement. “You weren’t able to back then. Thiago saw how hard things were for me and came to take care of me. My sister had just passed away at the time and had no children. Thiago just wanted a child.” “Matias is my son, and he’s my obligation to Thiago.” My nails dug into my palms. I had imagined every possibility—the seven-year itch, or when I quit my job to stay home with Marcus. I’d even found excuses in my mind, thinking she was tired of the monotony and wanted excitement. But I never expected it to be at the most impossible time… When I was hospitalized, Fiona showed no signs of anything wrong. Back then, I was hit by a car protecting her and nearly died. After I finally got out of danger, she came to the hospital every day after work to see me, helped wash my body, got up in the middle of the night to check on me, and held my hand every day telling me she’d stay with me forever. At that time, I thought I was the happiest man in the world, thought that love was impossible to hide. Turns out, it was just guilt after an affair. Seeing the tears in my eyes, Fiona’s voice softened. “Come on, William. Thiago won’t compete with you. You’re still my husband. We’ll just live our separate lives. Isn’t that fine?” I looked at her. There was no guilt on her face, no panic, just a sort of frankness. “Fiona, let’s get divorced. Marcus stays with me.” I didn’t cry or make a scene. My voice was calm. Fiona was stunned for a moment, then laughed, as if looking at a child throwing a tantrum. “What nonsense are you talking about?” She looked at me helplessly. “Marcus has everything he needs now. Where are you going to take him? Make him live in a rental apartment with you? Turn him into a wild child with a dead father and crazy mother like you?” My blood froze instantly. Wild child. She knew how much I hated those two words. In school as a child, classmates chased me calling me “bastard,” “son of a rapist and murderer.” I hid in a bathroom stall, not daring to come out. It was Fiona who kicked the door open, beat those people down, and led me out by the hand. She said, whoever bullies you in the future, I’ll kill them. She clearly knew my mother was raped and gave birth to me, went crazy and killed my dad—it was the deepest pain of my life! But now this knife stabbing me deepest was one I handed to her myself… “I’ll pretend you said that out of anger just now.” Fiona’s tone was gentle, as if soothing me. I opened my mouth but couldn’t speak. She touched my face. “Take Marcus out to play tomorrow. Don’t go to the parent-teacher conference, so you won’t be asked questions. The card is on the table. The password is your birthday.” With that, she turned and left. The sound of the door closing was soft, as if afraid to wake Marcus. I stood in the living room, looking at the supplementary card on the table. Black, no limit. She’d given me many over the years. Each time was after doing something guilty. I picked up that card and walked to Marcus’s room. He was sleeping soundly, hugging his teddy bear, a smile still on his lips. Earlier today, he said he wanted to wear new clothes to the parent-teacher conference tomorrow, to show his classmates how beautiful his mother was. Fiona was very busy at work. This parent-teacher conference was time I’d worked so hard to get her to set aside. I sat by the bed, gently stroking his hair. Marcus, mom won’t come to the parent-teacher conference tomorrow, but dad will always be here. I took out my phone and found a contact I hadn’t reached out to in a long time. I edited a message and hit send.

After sending the message, I stood on the balcony in the cold wind for a long time. Soon after, Fiona came back. She also brought Thiago and his son Matias. Matias was eight years old, with two dimples on his face, wearing a little white suit. He’d been to our house a few times. Each time he came, Fiona would have me prepare snacks and gifts. I thought it was her taking care of her brother-in-law. Now looking back, it was a complete humiliation… Fiona opened the door. Thiago kept his head down, his voice soft. “Sorry to disturb you both.” Fiona bent down and picked up Matias. “Did Matias miss mommy?” Matias hugged her neck and sweetly called “Mommy.” They didn’t even avoid me anymore, right in front of my face. I came downstairs, coldly watching this scene. Just then, Marcus woke up too and pushed open a crack in his door, groggily calling for daddy. My heart immediately tightened, wondering if he’d heard what Matias just called her. But soon, Marcus saw Matias, froze for a moment, then ran over with a smile. “Matias!” The two kids went upstairs holding hands. Marcus said he wanted to show Matias his new toys. The living room grew quiet. Thiago glanced at me, then quickly lowered his head again. “William, I’m sorry… we’re disturbing you.” I laughed. “You can even sleep with my wife, what’s staying at my house for a night?” Thiago’s face instantly went white. He jerked his head up to look at Fiona, his voice trembling. “You… you told him everything?” Fiona didn’t speak, just picked up her teacup and slowly took a sip. Thiago stood up and walked in front of me, his eyes red. “William, listen to me, it’s not what you think… I…” Suddenly, there was a loud crash from upstairs, followed by Marcus’s crying. I rushed upstairs and pushed open my son’s door. Marcus stood on the floor, his face covered in tears. Ceramic shards were scattered on the ground—it was his favorite ceramic Winnie the Pooh. Fiona had brought it back from a business trip last year. He hugged it to sleep every night. Matias stood beside him, still holding a piece of the broken ceramic. “Daddy! He grabbed my bear! I offered him other things but he didn’t want them. He insisted on this one. I wouldn’t give it to him, so he grabbed it and smashed it…” Marcus was crying so hard he could barely breathe. I crouched down and pulled him into my arms, gently patting his back. Thiago ran in, his face changing. “Matias! How could you grab Marcus’s things? Apologize to Marcus right now.” Matias pursed his lips and said nothing. Thiago sighed and looked at me, his tone apologetic. “William, don’t be angry. Matias just hasn’t seen such nice toys… Marcus has good toys to play with normally, so he shouldn’t miss this one, right?” I looked up at him. “Because Marcus has it, he deserves to have it smashed by Matias?” Thiago’s eyes reddened. “That’s not what I meant…” Fiona stood in the doorway, her expression not good. “William, what kind of tone is that! Apologize to Thiago!” I held Marcus and didn’t move. “His son broke my son’s things, and I have to apologize?” “I’ll buy Marcus another one.” Fiona was getting impatient. My voice began to tremble. “How is that the same?” Fiona frowned. She walked to Marcus’s bed with a cold face, picked up another bunny lamp—also one of Marcus’s beloved toys—and made as if to throw it on the ground. “Are you apologizing or not?” Her tone was frighteningly cold. I closed my eyes. Something inside me quietly shattered. “I’m sorry, Thiago.” My voice was small, as if squeezed from my throat. Fiona put the bunny lamp back on the bed. “See? That wasn’t so hard.” She led Matias out. Thiago followed her, his lips moving but ultimately saying nothing. I held Marcus. He was still crying, his shoulders shaking. I put him on the bed, tucked him in, and comforted him for a long time. When I walked out of the room, no one was in the living room. Fiona was in the study, the door closed. I had just reached the stairway landing when a cup of scalding liquid splashed on my face. The heat made me scream and immediately cover my face!

Matias stood at the stairway, holding an empty cup, a hint of cunning in his eyes. “Dad said if you do something wrong, just apologize.” He tilted his head and smiled. “Sorry.” I stood there, tea dripping down my cheeks, my face burning painfully. The study door opened. Fiona came out, saw me, and frowned. “What happened?” Matias ran over and took her hand. “I accidentally spilled the tea.” Fiona looked down at him and smiled. “It’s okay. I won’t blame you.” She looked up at me, her tone indifferent. “Go change your clothes. Don’t catch cold.” I said nothing, turned and walked to the water dispenser, filled a cup with cold water, and walked in front of Matias. The next second, I threw the entire cup of water in his face. “Now that’s fair.” Matias screamed and staggered backward, falling to the floor, bursting into tears. “Are you insane?” Fiona’s expression changed instantly. “William, how can you be so petty? Even targeting a child?” Thiago also came over after hearing the commotion, crouched on the ground holding Matias, tears falling. “William, if you’re angry, come at me. Don’t bully the child… Matias is still young and doesn’t understand…” “Enough!” I shook off Fiona’s hand and stepped back. “Get out! All three of you, get out of my house!” The living room went quiet for a moment. Fiona stared at me, then suddenly smiled—a cold smile. Soon, she turned and went upstairs, heading toward my son’s room. My heart skipped a beat. By the time I rushed up, it was too late. Fiona had pulled Marcus from under the covers. He was only wearing thin pajama pants, his face full of fear. “What are you doing!” I was frantic. “You want fairness, don’t you?” She looked at me. “Matias got splashed, so Marcus should have a taste too.” With that, she dragged Marcus downstairs. Thiago held Matias, his voice trembling. “Fiona, don’t do this… the child is so young…” But Fiona paid no attention, pushing Marcus in front of Thiago and handing him a cup of boiling water. “Splash it.” I rushed to catch up. “You dare!” Thiago froze. Under Fiona’s cold gaze, he bit his lip and took the cup. Inside was freshly poured boiling water, steam rising. “Fiona, I’m sorry… I really can’t…” As he spoke, his hand trembled and the entire cup of boiling water poured over Marcus’s face. “Ahhh—!” Marcus’s scream was like a knife, cutting into my heart piece by piece. He covered his face, rolling on the ground. “Marcus!” I rushed over and held him. His whole body was shaking. “Daddy… it hurts… Daddy…” Fiona stood there with no expression on her face. Thiago was crying beside her—whether from fear or acting, I couldn’t tell. “Fiona, you’re not human!” I slapped her across the face. She didn’t dodge or fight back, just looked at me with cold eyes. “When you’re done hitting me, go to the hospital. Don’t waste time here.” I rushed downstairs holding Marcus. I couldn’t get a cab, so I ran holding him. Wind rushed into my ears. Marcus’s crying grew weaker and weaker. “I’m here, Marcus, don’t be afraid. I’m here…” I don’t know how long I ran. My shoes fell off, the soles of my feet were scraped raw, blood prints on the asphalt road. The emergency room lights were bright. When I handed Marcus to the doctor, my legs went weak, my vision went black, and I knew nothing more. When I woke up, my nose was filled with the smell of disinfectant. I was lying in a hospital bed with a needle in my hand. The nurse saw me wake up and breathed a sigh of relief. “Your son is fine. You got him here in time. There won’t be any scarring.” I closed my eyes. The nurse paused. “Did you have a car accident eight years ago? Your kidneys are having problems now. You need surgery immediately.” I opened my eyes, my heart shocked. My old illness had flared up at this critical moment.

The nurse had just left when the hospital room door was kicked open violently. Fiona stood in the doorway with an expression of coldness I’d never seen before. “William! Look what you’ve done.” “Matias was splashed by you and got so scared his acute hemolysis flared up. He’s in emergency care now. If anything happens to him, I’ll make you pay with your life!” I gripped the bedsheet tightly. I’d only heard before that Matias was in poor health. I never expected him to be such a fragile porcelain doll. Fiona walked over, her tone commanding. “Where’s Marcus? He and Matias have matching blood types. Have him donate blood.” I couldn’t believe it. “Marcus isn’t even five years old yet.” “I don’t care.” “Fiona, he was just scalded. He’s still in a room upstairs.” “That’s what he deserves.” I closed my eyes. “Take mine. I have the same blood type as him.” She paused, looked at me for two seconds, and smiled. “Fine.” I was taken to the blood donation room. The doctor looked at the chart and hesitated. “This gentleman’s physical condition is a bit special. I don’t recommend drawing blood…” “Draw it.” Fiona leaned against the wall, her tone flat. The doctor looked at me. I nodded. The needle went in. Blood flowed through the tube into the blood bag. One bag, two bags, three bags. I started to feel dizzy. The lights in front of me became blurry. “Fiona… I can’t hold on…” “Then promise me. Make Marcus come apologize to Matias. If you promise, I’ll have them stop.” I looked up at her. Her expression was calm, as if discussing a business deal. “Just an apology. It won’t cost him anything.” “Impossible.” I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to stay conscious. “Then keep drawing.” By the sixth bag, my vision started to go black. The doctor said quietly, “We can’t draw anymore. Something will happen to him…” “Nothing will happen.” Fiona walked over, bent down to look at me, her voice unnaturally gentle. “William, will you promise or not?” I clenched my teeth and shook my head. She straightened up and said, “Continue.” This was the seventh bag. Halfway through, I slid from the chair, a gush of fresh blood suddenly pouring from my mouth. The nurse screamed. “Something’s wrong! The patient’s kidney has ruptured. Prepare for surgery immediately!” Fiona’s face turned deathly pale.

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My brother Ethan has been smart since childhood. His SAT scores were excellent—good enough to get into Harvard. But before I could feel happy about it, I overheard him on the phone in his room: “Mia’s going to community college, so I’m applying to the same school. I’m not going to Harvard.” In my past life, I stopped him and forced him to apply to Harvard. As a result, his crush Mia Greene got engaged, and her fiancé was some hot guy who went to community college with her. When Ethan saw the news, his eyes turned red with rage, and he forced massive amounts of poison down my throat. “What’s the point of all that studying! Mia’s grandfather is New York’s richest man—if I got together with her, I’d skip an entire social class! If you hadn’t stopped me, I’d be the one marrying her now!” I was tortured to death. Given a second chance at life, I returned to the day the SAT scores were released. This time, I drove straight to the city’s largest orphanage. This brother is ruined—I’ll just adopt a new one!

After I died, my parents tried to ease their grief over losing a son by managing Ethan’s education even more strictly. But they never expected that Ethan, unable to sneak out to see the rich heiress, would harbor such resentment that he’d hire human traffickers to sell his own parents into the black market. My elderly parents were beaten bloody, and in a twisted act, people hammered long nails all over their bodies. Meanwhile, Ethan knelt before the bed where the New York heiress was sleeping with another man, begging her to look at him just once more. My soul floated above, screaming in grief and rage, but powerless to do anything. The next second, Ethan’s incessant voice rang in my ears again: “Adrian, I’m going to community college with Mia to study aviation.” “Harvard’s too hard. Even if I graduate, isn’t it all just to make money anyway? Mia’s the richest man’s granddaughter—isn’t it better to win her over early? Don’t you think so?” His eyes were full of excited gleam and what he thought was clever calculation. When Ethan saw I wasn’t responding, he immediately got annoyed. “Adrian, do you just hate seeing me do well?” “Your own marriage failed. You couldn’t keep your rich wife—that’s your problem. Why are you stopping me from climbing up the social ladder!” My heart instantly went cold. My ex-wife and I were childhood sweethearts who grew up together. When my family faced bankruptcy, we were forced into an arranged marriage. But only after getting married did I learn my ex-wife had an unforgettable first love. Only when I caught her cheating did she admit she’d been betraying me from the start. I’ll never forget the way my ex-wife and her first love humiliated me together. Later, I used all the money I got from my ex-wife to revive the family business, finally succeeding in getting divorced the following year. All these years, I’d worried that Ethan would be hurt by women like I was, so I gave him twice as much materially. From childhood, Ethan wore designer brands. Piano lessons and horseback riding lessons costing hundreds of thousands—as long as Ethan said he wanted to learn, I’d sign him up without blinking. To create a better life for us brothers, I worked like a machine, drinking at business dinners until I got a perforated ulcer and ended up in the hospital. I never told Ethan much about any of this—I just didn’t want him to feel any burden. But I never imagined that in Ethan’s eyes, all my sacrifices would be seen as the result of me being unable to keep a woman. And my indulgence had made him so pathetic, acting like a dog in front of rich people. Thinking of this, I looked at Ethan with a slight smile. “You’re an adult now. You can make your own decisions about major life choices. Mia treats you so well—you really shouldn’t miss this opportunity!” Ethan froze for a moment at my words, then hugged me joyfully. “I knew it—you’re the one who treats me best! Once Mia and I inherit the richest man’s fortune, I’ll definitely take good care of you!” In my past life, when Ethan told me his New York heiress classmate had invited him to the same school, I first asked how Mia had done on her exams and what university she was planning to attend. When I learned Mia’s scores could only get her into community college, my expression immediately turned cold, and I refused no matter what. Ethan also turned against me and stormed out, slamming the door. After finding out that Mia had bullied a male classmate and nearly drove him to jump off the school building, I couldn’t sit still. I earnestly warned Ethan that Mia had poor grades and violent tendencies—the Greene family would never choose someone like that as their heir. But Ethan insisted: “Mia’s the richest man’s only biological granddaughter. The future fortune will definitely be hers!” When persuasion failed, I had to take a hard line. I called my parents back from abroad and had them monitor Ethan 24/7, forcing him to sign the Harvard application. But the next day, the news broke that New York heiress Mia Greene was engaged, and her fiancé was the school heartthrob who’d given up college to be with her. The media portrayed this engagement as a poor boy’s successful pursuit of love, a rags-to-riches tale of a pauper prince climbing up the social ladder. When Ethan saw it, he went crazy and came to my office and smashed everything. He pounded the desk and shouted at me: “Mia’s fiancé should have been me!” To calm him down and stop him from obsessing over that woman, I doubled his allowance and spent a fortune taking him on trips all over the country. Ethan wanted all kinds of luxury goods, and I bought them for him. But in return, Ethan went crazy and hung me from Mia’s helicopter in the suburbs. “If you hadn’t stopped me, I’d be the one who climbed into the Greene family! You ruined everything for me!” I was suspended in the air, sliced bloody by the rotating tail rotor, and then watched myself fall into a valley, with no remains left to bury. Only then did I realize that Ethan hated me to the bone, and his greatest wish was to be a kept man. In this life, I won’t try to save Ethan again. If he wants to be a kept man, I’ll let him lock himself together with that abusive woman forever. There are plenty of boys who want to study. Since this brother won’t work out, I’ll just get a new brother.

Ethan happily called Mia to tell her they could go to the same school. The two of them talked sweetly for a long time. After hanging up, Ethan did something unprecedented—he walked over to the cleaning lady and took the broom from her hands, saying proudly: “Adrian, from today on, I’ll do the housework. That way, when I go to the new school and live with Mia, I can take better care of her. Mia will definitely be moved by me.” I stood there stunned. I suddenly remembered that a few years ago, when I got seriously ill from drinking continuously to win business contracts, Ethan just watched coldly from the side and wouldn’t even pour me a glass of water. So Ethan wasn’t incapable of taking care of people—I just wasn’t worthy of it as his brother. I gave a bitter laugh, feeling like all my years of genuine devotion had been fed to the dogs. I gave the cleaning lady an extended vacation, had her teach Ethan all the chores, then returned to the living room and settled into the sofa to watch TV. It was Ethan’s first time doing housework. He was sweating profusely, and before long, he couldn’t take it anymore. He looked up at me with aggrieved eyes. If this were my past life, seeing Ethan like this would have made me too heartbroken to let him continue. Now, living this second life, I would never seek such suffering again. I just pretended not to see anything and focused on watching TV. Ethan, getting no sympathy, threw down the broom and ran back to his room in a huff. I watched him and just found it funny. He couldn’t even do basic housework, yet he wanted to be a kept man serving a rich girl? Before long, Ethan came running out and said to me: “Adrian, I’m going to the next city with Mia for a party. She’s already rented a place there, and I’ll just stay at her place. This is perfect!” Mia was famous in her circle for loving SM. Since Ethan was so eager to jump into the fire pit, I naturally wouldn’t stop him. When I didn’t answer for a long time, Ethan became angry and embarrassed, screaming shrilly: “I get it now—you really can’t stand seeing me happy! Someone as selfish as you has no right to be my brother!” I rubbed my temples, feeling somewhat tired. “I told you, you’re an adult now. You can make your own decisions. You don’t need to ask me anymore.” Hearing this, Ethan’s expression changed instantly, like flipping a switch, his spirits immediately restored. “You’re the best! I need to go find Mia right away and tell her this good news.” With that, Ethan left the house. Right after, I also went out and drove to the city’s largest orphanage.

After learning my intentions, the director took me to meet the children there. The orphanage children were noisy and rowdy, but one boy sat quietly to the side, completely indifferent to my arrival, focused intently on the vocabulary book in his hands. I walked over to him and asked softly, “Do you really like studying?” The boy’s voice was small but not timid. “Studying is very important. Only by working hard can I change my destiny.” I smiled at him. “Would you be willing to come home with me? I’ll be your brother and find you the best teachers to help you study.” The boy nodded vigorously. I took the boy to the director to process adoption papers. When I learned the boy’s name was Lucky, I couldn’t help but frown. The boy sensed my reaction and looked at me cautiously. I sighed and patted the boy’s head. “How about I give you a new name?” I took the boy shopping for daily necessities, then took him to change his name. He took my surname and became Wesley Armitage. I hoped he would always know the direction in his heart as precious as the moon, and not bow down for sixpence like my brother Ethan. On the way home, Wesley kept looking at his new ID card over and over—clearly, he really liked his new name. When we got home, I cleaned out the spare room for Wesley to live in. It was getting late, and I was just about to have Wesley go to his room to rest when I heard the sound of the door being unlocked. “Adrian, I’m back! I’ve already talked to Mia—” Ethan’s voice stopped the instant he saw Wesley, then he looked at me in disbelief and demanded sharply: “Who is he? What’s he doing in my house!” Wesley looked at me helplessly. I looked at Ethan calmly. “This is my house. Who I let in isn’t for you to decide.” “He’s my new brother, also your brother. His name is Wesley. If you can accept it, accept it. If you can’t, then get out.” Before I finished speaking, Ethan grabbed a vase from the living room and smashed it hard on the floor. “I don’t agree! If you don’t kick him out, I’ll die right in front of you. I don’t want you as a brother anymore!” This was Ethan’s usual tactic. In my past life, every time I refused Ethan’s excessive demands, he would threaten me by harming himself or cutting off our relationship. And I, craving familial affection, fell for it every time. I usually couldn’t resist and gave in. After making his threat, Ethan expected to see me compromise like before. But I just stood there, unmoved. “If you want to die, hurry up. I can’t stop you, and I don’t want to.” Thinking of how my parents suffered in my past life, I felt he deserved to die eight hundred times over. Ethan never imagined that I, who had always doted on him, would suddenly become like this. He immediately grew furious. He rushed at Wesley and grabbed him. Ethan’s freshly done manicure made his nails especially sharp. He deliberately dug them deep into Wesley’s skin. Wesley winced in pain but didn’t dare make a sound. “You little brat, did you trick Adrian! You parentless thing, what right do you have to steal my brother!” Ethan, the straight-A student, really got into cursing, his mouth full of obscenities. I’d always taught Ethan to be gentle and polite. Before, he was just cold, but he’d never used profanity in front of me. Eighteen years of upbringing and teaching couldn’t compare to a few months of Ethan being around Mia. Remembering my past life, I just felt utterly pathetic. Seeing Ethan raise his hand to slap Wesley, I quickly stepped forward to stop him, pulling Ethan away. “If you can’t accept this, get out. If you keep throwing tantrums like this, don’t blame me for being rude!” Hearing this, Ethan looked hurt, as if he couldn’t bear it anymore, and ran out crying. But I knew in my heart that Ethan’s sadness wasn’t because of me. It was just because something he’d possessed for so many years suddenly no longer belonged to him.

“I’m sorry. Maybe I should move out. Ethan really seems to hate me.” Wesley came over to me, his eyes a bit red, his voice full of apology. I calmly told him, “You’re my brother too. You don’t need to accommodate anyone.” After that, I took Wesley back to his room and comforted him for a while. Wesley fell into a deep sleep. I returned to the living room and began cleaning up the mess Ethan had left. Ethan had been pampered by me since childhood and had never suffered such humiliation. With this incident, unless I lowered my head and apologized first, Ethan definitely wouldn’t come back anytime soon. After cleaning up and returning to my room, I let out a slow breath of relief. Finally, I could take time to plan for Wesley’s and my future. Wesley was seventeen this year. After summer vacation, he’d be starting his junior year of high school. His grades were excellent, but due to family upheaval during middle school finals, he’d only gotten into an average high school. After entering the orphanage, Wesley worked part-time jobs while also helping out at the orphanage, sacrificing his sleep time to study. Even so, Wesley’s grades in high school were still outstanding. After learning all this, I first spent a fortune pulling strings to transfer Wesley to the city’s best high school. To catch up with the accelerated program’s pace by the new semester, I found renowned teachers to arrange one-on-one summer tutoring for him. In my past life, when Ethan first entered high school, he’d once given up on himself because he couldn’t keep up with the school’s pace. I both tried my best to encourage him, telling him not to lose confidence in learning, while also pulling connections to find suitable teachers for him. But in my past life, all my painstaking efforts became, in Ethan’s mouth, me forcing him to study for my own selfish desires and restricting his freedom. Some people are just born ungrateful. Unfortunately, in my past life, I paid with my life to understand this truth. In the following days, I woke up early every day to take Wesley to tutoring, then went to work at the company. After work, I’d pick Wesley up from tutoring. At these times, Wesley would always excitedly tell me in the car what new knowledge he’d learned that day and what interesting things happened in class. On weekends, I’d take Wesley out to experience new things, broaden his knowledge, and expand his horizons. These days spent with Wesley made me very happy too. This joy was something I never experienced in my past life. But good times didn’t last long. When Wesley and I were traveling in the neighboring city, I received a call from the police station. “Is this Mr. Adrian Armitage? After our preliminary investigation, Ethan is suspected of intentional assault. He’s currently at the police station. Please come by.” I froze in place. In my past life, because of my firm stance, Ethan had already broken up with Mia at this time, and I was watching Ethan closely, not letting him have any contact with Mia again. I never expected that in this life, without my intervention, in just half a month, Ethan would get into such big trouble.

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On the third day of my business trip, I stumbled across a video online of my husband Jensen and my best friend Violet kissing at a concert. Violet and I had known each other for twenty years. On the day I married Jensen, she blessed me through her tears. But today, she and Jensen had both betrayed me. After a few minutes of silence, I called Violet: “Did you go to Taylor’s concert this time? I heard the live performance was amazing.” On the other end, Violet’s voice paused, then she laughed casually: “It was great, but without you there, going alone wasn’t fun. When are you coming back? We should go together.” I smiled and said okay. After hanging up, I booked an overnight flight straight to her place. I had to ask her. Why lie to me? The plane landed right at 9 PM. I went directly to Violet’s apartment and knocked on the door. “What took you so long?” Violet’s coquettish voice came from inside. The moment she opened the door and saw me, her entire face went pale. “Chr…Christina?” “Why are you back?! Aren’t you supposed to be on a business trip?” She looked at me in shock. I didn’t speak, my eyes fixating on her nightgown. It was a black lace negligee with a deep V-neck that plunged almost to her navel, exposing most of her rounded breasts—an incredibly sexy nightgown. A week ago when I went shopping with her, when she bought this nightgown, she told me: “A woman still needs to be feminine. This nightgown is my secret weapon I’m preparing for myself.” Now this secret weapon I helped her buy—was she planning to use it on my husband? I tugged at the corner of my mouth, wanting to laugh, but my eyes welled up with tears first. Violet and I had been each other’s best friends since childhood. At seven, she got her pigtails pulled by a boy in class and cried loudly. I was the one who chased the boy away with a little ruler, patting my chest and saying: I’ll protect you from now on. At fifteen, she became extremely self-conscious about her acne and was cornered in the bathroom by girls from class who bullied her. I was the one who ran from the seventh floor to the third floor with a mop, saving her at the risk of expulsion. At seventeen, sophomore year of high school. Her parents were getting divorced. Neither wanted her, and they only gave her two hundred dollars a month for living expenses. Because she had no money, she ate only one meal a day—two slices of toast. She went from 120 pounds down to 75. We weren’t at the same school anymore by then. One evening during self-study, she suddenly called me and said: “Christina, I don’t want to go to school anymore.” When I heard those words, I climbed over the wall that very night and ran home from my boarding school. I knelt before my parents for two whole hours, begging them to sponsor my best friend’s education. From seven to twenty-seven years old, we had known each other for a full twenty years. She said many times that I was the heroism of her girlhood. But now, wearing the sexy nightgown we bought together, she had climbed into my husband’s bed. Thinking about this, I wanted to laugh but couldn’t. I could only try my best to appear calm as I asked her: “Do you have a date tonight?” “Who is it? Do I know them? What’s their name?” My tone was light, without interrogation or anger. Just like a natural greeting between friends. Her face went completely white. Even her lips lost all color. She was incredibly tense. “Just… a coworker from the company. You don’t know them.” She was still lying to me. My hand gripping my purse was white-knuckled. My gaze slowly swept across her guilty, flustered face. It landed on her wrist, and I smiled without really smiling: “That bracelet is beautiful. Did your coworker give it to you too?” Last month on Valentine’s Day, I personally found Jensen’s shopping records. A pair of gold earrings and a Van Cleef & Arpels ruby bracelet. The gold earrings cost five thousand dollars—they were on my ears. The bracelet cost thirty-eight thousand—he gave it to Violet. When Violet heard my words, her face went deathly pale. She immediately hid her left hand behind her back, stammering: “Yes, my coworker gave it to me.” Normally, at this moment, as her best friend, I should have naturally teased her a bit more. Asked if good news was coming soon? When would she let me meet him? But at that moment, watching her like this, I only felt absurd. She couldn’t even lie properly, yet I had been deceived by her for so long. “Alright, I won’t disturb your date.” “See you tomorrow.” I said with a smile, pretending not to see her instantly relieved expression, and turned to leave. On my way home, I called my father. He was Jensen’s direct supervisor and also the mastermind behind sponsoring Violet all these years and arranging her job. “Dad, I need a favor.” While throwing the treats I’d specially brought for Violet—her favorites—into the trash, I spoke with an eerily calm voice. “Jensen’s job, the apartment Violet’s living in, and all the money they’ve spent of mine these years—can you help me find a lawyer and get it all back?” “Yes, they’re having an affair. I don’t want to lose out.”

My dad moved quickly. I had just gotten home when a divorce lawyer added me and sent me 3GB of evidence and materials. I clicked on it. Besides photos and hotel records, there was a video account I’d never seen before. Eighty-three videos, each with Jensen’s shadow in them. I learned that their first kiss was on my twenty-third birthday. I went upstairs to get the cake. They were in the living room, kissing passionately. In that video uploaded on my birthday, Violet’s caption was just two words—”Thrilling.” I learned that their first time sleeping together was during that citywide rainstorm. Violet’s neighborhood had a power outage. I knew she was afraid of the dark, so I drove through the storm to her place to keep her company. Outside, lightning flashed and thunder roared. Rainwater reached my knees. I was completely soaked. Violet’s door was locked. She had gone on a business trip with Jensen. Kansas, three days and two nights. She didn’t tell me. Afraid something had happened to her, I knocked on her door for half an hour in the darkness. She and Jensen were in a hotel suite, eating a carefully prepared candlelit dinner, completing their first intimate encounter. And the most recent video was uploaded ten minutes ago. The background was Violet’s home. She was still wearing that nightgown, smiling innocently at the camera. “Almost got caught sneaking around for our date, but luckily Mr. Jensen said he’d make it up to me.” “He’s not allowed to go home tonight.” Her tone was so natural, without a trace of guilt. I replayed that video twenty times, finally confirming. That little sister who had followed me around since age seven, who needed my protection, had grown up. The cost was destroying my family. My hand gripping the mouse was white-knuckled. Suddenly I remembered the day Jensen and I got married. Violet wore the bridesmaid dress we’d chosen back in high school, crying with snot and tears everywhere. She grabbed my hand and threatened Jensen: “Christina is my best friend for life. If you ever dare bully her, I definitely won’t let you get away with it!” I crossed through the crowd and handed the bouquet directly to Violet. “Violet, I hope you’ll be happy too.” She froze for a moment, then burst into tears, shouting loudly in my ear: “Christina, you must be happy forever!” Scene after scene flashed back before my eyes. I sat on the sofa, tears flowing silently. My phone rang. It was Jensen calling. I answered. The man’s voice came through, half probing, half complaining. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back? If Violet hadn’t told me, I wouldn’t even know.” “Where are you now?” “Should I come pick you up?” I stayed silent, my gaze moving to Violet’s latest video. She said she didn’t want Jensen to go home. “I’m at the airport. The work issue isn’t resolved yet. I came back to get a file, leaving right away.” “Day after tomorrow at 8 AM, come pick me up at the airport.” Hearing my words, Jensen on the other end was obviously relieved, with a few women’s laughs mixed in. “Okay, I’m still at the office, so I won’t see you off.” “Let me know when you land.” The call ended. The lawyer looked at me hesitantly. “Ms. Christina, you…” I smiled and pulled out a tissue to wipe away my tears. “Attorney Foster, if we catch them in the act, wouldn’t the divorce case be more favorable for me?”

The lawyer nodded. I had my answer. I took out my phone and contacted several important people. The first was my dad—Jensen’s direct supervisor. For my sake, he was about to promote Jensen in the next few days. Marketing Director—a position Jensen had been eyeing for three years. The second was Violet’s parents. They had remarried and were also in California. Violet had said countless times that she wanted them to know how excellent she was, to make them regret abandoning her. Today, I also wanted to know—when her parents saw her with my husband, what would their expressions be? And Jensen’s parents, relatives… I called everyone I could think of. Then, following the lawyer, I drove to Violet’s apartment complex. During the twenty minutes waiting for everyone to arrive, I thought about many things. I thought about Violet and Jensen’s first meeting. One wore a gray suit, aloof and proud. One wore a red dress, looking completely annoyed. They each told me: I hate that person. They said they didn’t get along, asked me not to bring them together. I believed them. So I was always careful, telling Violet in front of Jensen how she praised him as young and promising. In front of Violet, I gave her gifts I bought for her in Jensen’s name. I thought I was maintaining both my love and my friendship. Looking back now, the most ridiculous person was actually me. “Ms. Christina, everyone’s here.” The lawyer’s voice pulled me back from my thoughts. I got out of the car and looked at those familiar faces. Everyone had come. Not a single person was missing. “Christina, why did you call us all here?” “Is it about last time when Violet mentioned you buying her an apartment? Oh my, all these years you’ve helped us take care of Violet, we’re so grateful.” Violet’s parents eagerly grabbed my hand. I pulled my hand away without speaking. Jensen’s parents blocked them. “What are you talking about? It must be about Jensen’s promotion to Marketing Manager coming through.” “Christina, Jensen really didn’t marry the wrong person.” “Christina, are you preparing a surprise for Jensen? Don’t worry, I get it! I even brought a video camera—professional grade!” They chattered away, not knowing what had happened, but all without exception holding expectations. Attorney Foster pulled me aside and said quietly: “Ms. Christina, are you sure you want to make this big of a scene?” “Once this blows up today, things will truly be irreversible.” I looked up at the light coming from Violet’s apartment upstairs. I remembered that summer when we walked down the street hand in hand, sharing the same ice cream cone. Her face was flushed red from the sun, her eyes incredibly bright. “Christina, will we be best friends forever?” I nodded emphatically. Ice cream smeared on my face. “Forever!” And Jensen—he knew I loved the ocean, so when he proposed, he rented an entire beach. Under the fireworks, he knelt on one knee with a ring. “Christina, I like you. I’ll like you forever. Will you marry me?” They had each promised me forever, yet in this year when I turned twenty-eight, they had tacitly chosen betrayal. I looked away. Violet’s parents were already impatient. Jensen’s parents had even notified their family members, preparing to throw Jensen a promotion party. The lights upstairs had also gone out. They must be asleep. I composed myself and gave everyone behind me a carefree smile. Pointing to the elevator, “Let’s go upstairs. There’s a surprise waiting upstairs.”

I led the group into the elevator, heading upstairs in a grand procession. In the elevator’s cramped space, the atmosphere was strangely enthusiastic. Violet’s parents were still shamelessly cozying up to me, their faces full of obsequious smiles. “Christina, Violet always tells us that meeting you was the luckiest thing in her life.” “That’s right, that’s right. We’re truly grateful to you from the bottom of our hearts.” They sang in harmony, hinting that our two families should interact more in the future, growing even closer. Naturally, Jensen’s parents weren’t willing to be outdone. They immediately pushed them aside and grabbed my other hand. “Christina, don’t listen to their nonsense. Jensen truly loves you.” “That Marketing Director position—he’s wanted it for so long. This time, thanks to you and your father, Jensen must have accumulated good karma from his past life to have married you.” My dad stood behind me, one hand silently resting on my shoulder, gently holding me. I could feel the warmth and strength from his palm, and also the suppressed fury about to erupt. I knew he was holding back. I was holding back too. It felt like a fire burning in my stomach, spreading from my chest all the way to my throat, burning painfully. “Ding”—the elevator doors opened. I took a deep breath and walked to Violet’s familiar door. First, I called her phone. Her sleepy yet slightly wary voice came through the receiver. “Hello? Christina? It’s so late. What’s up?” I smiled, my tone light as I asked, “Nothing major. I just wanted to ask if you’re home alone? I have something I want to talk to you about right now.” On the other end, Violet was clearly jolted awake, her voice instantly becoming panicked. “I… I’m home alone! But I… I’ve already gone to bed, Christina. Can we talk about it tomorrow? I’m really tired.” She was still lying. The trembling and guilt in her voice couldn’t be hidden at all. “Okay, get some rest then.” I hung up without hesitation and immediately called Jensen. I used the exact same script to ask him: “Are you home alone right now? I have something urgent I need to talk to you about.” Jensen’s voice was even more nervous than Violet’s. He answered almost immediately: “Yeah, I’m home alone. Lots of work at the office, just finished.” He paused, seeming to think his reaction was too intense, then added in a joking tone: “What’s wrong? Do you miss me? If it weren’t so late, I’d fly to your side right now.” How ridiculous. He was clearly in another woman’s bed, yet he could tell me he loved me without his face turning red or his heart racing. I laughed softly and hung up. At that moment, the previously noisy crowd behind me finally quieted down. Whether it was Violet’s parents or Jensen’s parents, they had all picked up on something unusual from my two brief phone calls. Their expressions changed from earlier anticipation and excitement to nervousness and confusion. Violet’s mother couldn’t help but grab my arm, asking carefully: “Christina, what… what’s going on? You called us all here, exactly what…” I turned back, looking at their faces full of unease, and repeated what I’d said before. “To give you all a surprise.” With that, under their suspicious gazes, I pulled out the spare key Violet had once forced into my hands from my bag. “Click”—the door lock opened with a sound.

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The day after having sex with Ethan Chase for the 100th time, my private photos spread across the entire campus. I ran to him in complete devastation to confront him, only to see someone who looked exactly like him, smiling as he said: “Ethan, Olivia is amazing in bed. It’s such a shame you never tried her yourself.” But Ethan just sneered coldly: “Summer is the only one in my heart. I was only with her because she looks like Summer.” “Now that Summer’s back, I’m planning to dump her.” It turned out that the person I’d been intimate with every night was Ethan Chase’s own brother! Those 100 times we had sex were just “tasks” he completed for his brother! And to please Summer, the two brothers even made my private photos public! Heartbroken and hopeless, I agreed to my parents’ plan to study abroad in London and sent a message to my childhood friend who had once confessed to me: “Does your promise from back then still stand?” Olivia POV I was the famous beauty at NYU, adored by countless guys. Until one day, my private photos suddenly exploded across the campus forum. Overnight, I was completely ruined. My scholarship was revoked, and people even asked me “how much for a night” when I walked down the street. And those photos—only one person had them: my boyfriend, Ethan Chase! I ran to confront him in complete devastation, but just as I was about to push open the door, I heard his friends’ voices inside. “Ethan, that move was brutal! Once those private photos were released, Olivia was completely destroyed and lost her scholarship. Let’s see if she dares to compete with Summer for anything ever again.” Another chimed in: “That’s nothing. If she knew that during these two years Ethan dated her, he never actually liked her—that he even found her so repulsive he couldn’t touch her, so he had his own brother sleep with her at night while he just went through the motions during the day… now that would really break her. Hahaha!” Those words struck me like a thunderbolt! I covered my mouth to stop myself from screaming, my face turning deathly pale in an instant. After he finished, the guy laughed and nudged the handsome young man next to Ethan with his elbow: “Hey, Adrian, you’ve been secretly sleeping with your brother’s girlfriend for two years now. How’s it feel? I’m dying to know.” The young man called Adrian Chase looked almost identical to Ethan. He picked up his wine glass and curled his lips into a mocking smile: “Tsk, what do you think? Her body is amazing, she sounds so good in bed, and she’s so obedient—any position I want… Why do you think I’ve been arranging my transfer to NYU? It’s so it’ll be more convenient to fuck her.” At that moment, Ethan, who had been silent the whole time, finally spoke. His voice was as cold as ever, showing no emotion, yet every word cut me like a knife: “Just these few days left. If you want to enjoy her, hurry up. Once the scholarship is confirmed for Summer, I’ll break up with her and officially pursue Summer.” “Holy shit! Ethan, you’re finally going after Summer?” His friends immediately started cheering. “We’ve all seen how devoted you’ve been to Summer all these years. You dote on her so much. And because there was only one scholarship and Summer wanted it, once you found out Olivia was strong competition, you directly approached Olivia, dated her, and then destroyed her… impressive! You two should’ve been together ages ago!” Every single sentence was like a heavy hammer pounding on my heart. My entire body went cold, my blood seemingly frozen. So… the truth was this disgusting, this cruel! I stared at the group inside, afraid I’d go completely insane if I stayed another second. I turned around abruptly and stumbled away. I ran desperately, tears streaming down uncontrollably, the scenery before me blurred and distorted. I’d been strictly raised by my parents my whole life and had never dated before. I even thought dating was troublesome and boring. Until my freshman year, when I was walking past the basketball court with my books, a basketball suddenly flew toward me. I closed my eyes in fright, but the expected impact never came. A tall figure had blocked the ball for me. I opened my eyes in shock and looked into a pair of deep, indifferent eyes. The setting sun cast a golden glow behind him. There were fine beads of sweat on his forehead. He was so handsome he didn’t seem real. In that moment, I clearly heard my heart losing control. Later I learned he was a student at NYU named Ethan Chase. He came from a prominent family—his family had donated several buildings to the school. He was strikingly handsome but very aloof. The girls chasing him could form a line from the school gates to France, but he treated everyone with distant indifference. The only exception was Summer Bennett, a music major who had grown up with him—toward her, he was slightly different. I always knew we were from two different worlds, so I buried those feelings deep inside and threw myself into my studies, becoming top of my class. But then, my “chance encounters” with Ethan started becoming strangely frequent. The library, academic buildings, even the cafeteria… he always seemed to appear near me. Until one day, I’d stayed up too late studying and fell asleep at the library. When I woke up, I found myself leaning on Ethan’s shoulder! I jumped away in fright, my cheeks flushing red. But he grabbed my wrist, his dark eyes gazing at me, his voice low and pleasant: “Olivia, want to be with me?” My mind went completely blank then. Overwhelmed by joy, I nodded in a daze. After we got together, Ethan was indeed somewhat “strange.” During the day he was always rather cold toward me, rarely initiating contact. Our dates felt like he was completing a task. But once night fell, he seemed like a different person—passionate to the point of madness. And… he liked taking private photos while we had sex. Though I felt vaguely uneasy, drowning in love as I was, I always found excuses for him. He was naturally aloof, so he was cold during the busy day. But he liked me, which is why he couldn’t control himself at night… I never imagined that the cold one during the day was his brother Ethan Chase, and the passionate one at night was his brother Adrian Chase! They treated me as a tool to play with and use for their pleasure. Their ultimate goal was just to take away everything I’d worked so hard for and use it to please another girl!

Olivia POV I finally couldn’t run anymore and collapsed in a deserted alley, letting out suppressed, agonized sobs. Just then, my phone rang. It was my family calling. I answered with trembling hands, and immediately my mother’s shrill roar came through: “Olivia! What the hell are those disgusting photos on the school forum! Your teacher called the house! Do you know what kind of negative impact you’ve caused our family?!” My father’s angry rebuke came through faintly too: “We worked so hard to raise you, and this is how you embarrass us at college?!” I cried so hard I couldn’t speak, the pain in my chest suffocating me. My parents were extremely strict with me. They only showed me a rare smile when I got first place or won awards. So I studied desperately, strictly disciplined myself, worked to be top of my class, and did my best at everything, just hoping to earn a little more of their love. But now that something had happened, they had not a shred of concern or trust—only endless blame and disgust. “Cry, cry, cry! All you do is cry! The scholarship is hopeless now! We’ve already bought you a plane ticket abroad for the end of the month. Get out of here! Come back in a few years when people have forgotten about this!” My mother’s voice was cold and uncompromising. My heart died completely. I numbly said into the phone: “Okay.” I would go abroad. But I would never come back for the rest of my life! After hanging up, I numbly returned to the apartment I shared with Ethan. I began mechanically packing my things, throwing away all the gifts Ethan had given me over the past year—necklaces, bracelets, stuffed animals, lipstick… one by one into the trash. Those sweet tokens I’d once treasured now seemed like mocking jokes. Just as I threw the last necklace away, the door lock clicked. Ethan—no, Adrian—walked in. He imitated Ethan’s voice, but his tone was very gentle: “Liv, what are you throwing away?” I looked up, staring hard at this face that was almost identical to Ethan’s but looked younger. My heart felt torn apart again, the pain almost suffocating me. “Don’t these things look familiar to you?” My voice was hoarse with cold mockery. Adrian’s smile froze for a moment, then he cleverly changed the subject. “Why are your eyes so red? Is it because of what happened on the forum today? Don’t be sad, I’ve handled it. All the posts are deleted. No one will dare talk about you anymore. The scholarship’s gone, so what? You’re only a junior—there’s next year. Or just don’t bother finishing school. Come work at my family’s company. I’ll take care of you…” My heart ached terribly, my nails digging deep into my palms. These two brothers—each one a better actor than the last! Just as I was about to speak, Adrian had already naturally pulled me into his arms, his chin nuzzling the top of my head: “Come on, stop crying. It breaks my heart to see you cry, okay?” His familiar scent enveloped me, followed by light kisses falling on my neck, his hands beginning to wander over my body. In the past I would always respond shyly, but today I just felt cold all over, nausea rising in my stomach. I shoved him away hard! Adrian stumbled back, caught off guard. A flash of surprise crossed his eyes, but he quickly suppressed it, his tone still gentle: “What’s wrong? Not in the mood today?” “I don’t feel well.” I turned my head away, my voice hoarse. Adrian stared at me for a few seconds, then suddenly smiled: “Alright, I’ll go take a cold shower then.” He didn’t force it and turned toward the bathroom. I continued numbly packing, completely erasing every trace of “us.” After finishing everything, I lay down on the bed exhausted, my back to the bathroom. Before long, Adrian came out with moisture still clinging to him and lay down beside me. He was quiet for a while, but seemed unable to resist. He moved closer and hugged me from behind, warm kisses falling on the back of my ear and my shoulder. I stiffly endured it until, half-asleep, I heard him murmur a name— “Summer…” That name was like an ice pick instantly piercing my heart. I snapped fully awake, my blood flowing backward! So… it wasn’t just Ethan. Even Adrian, every time he slept with me, was thinking of Summer Bennett?! I shoved him away hard again, almost grinding my teeth, my voice trembling uncontrollably: “I said… I really don’t feel well today!” Adrian was startled by my intense reaction. Apparently seeing I was genuinely in a terrible state, he paused and finally compromised with a sigh: “Okay, okay, I won’t touch you. I’ll just hold you while we sleep, alright?” True to his word, he didn’t make any more moves, just held me from behind. I lay there stiffly in his embrace, tears silently soaking the pillow. I forced myself to endure the immense pain and disgust until I finally fell into a fitful sleep near dawn. When I woke the next day, he was already gone, as expected. I used to wonder why Ethan never went to school with me. Now I knew—it was simply because the one sharing my bed at night was Adrian, while the real Ethan during the day couldn’t be bothered with such intimacy. I numbly got up, washed, and prepared to go to school to process my withdrawal. As soon as I arrived at school, before I could reach the administration office, a classmate suddenly rushed over and stopped me: “Olivia! Thank god you’re here! Your advisor wants you in his office right away! He said it’s urgent!” An ominous feeling settled in my chest.

Olivia POV I walked to the advisor’s office and knocked on the door. “Come in.” I pushed open the door. Sure enough, Summer Bennett was there too. When Summer saw me, a flash of triumph and provocation crossed her eyes before she quickly resumed her pitiful expression. The advisor’s face was dark with anger. When he saw me enter, he slammed two papers on the desk! “Olivia! Summer! Explain this to me! Why are your two papers exactly the same?! Even the grammatical errors are identical! Academic misconduct is strictly forbidden at this school! Whoever copied, confess now, and the school will be lenient!” Summer immediately spoke up first, her tone aggrieved but firm: “Professor, my paper was absolutely written by me! I don’t know why it’s so similar to Olivia’s, but I definitely didn’t plagiarize!” I looked at those two papers, my heart going cold, but I insisted: “Professor, my paper was also completed independently. I didn’t plagiarize.” The advisor rubbed his temples in frustration: “You both say you wrote them yourselves? Where’s your proof?” Summer immediately said: “Professor, I have a witness!” The office door was pushed open again. Ethan strode in on his long legs. He didn’t even glance at me, speaking directly to the advisor: “I watched Summer stay up all night writing her paper. There’s no way she plagiarized. As for why they’re similar, I think…” He paused, glancing at me. “You should ask the other person.” The advisor naturally knew about Ethan’s relationship with me. He seemed to understand something. He exploded in fury, pointing at me: “Olivia! What do you have to say for yourself! All the evidence points to you! I’m so disappointed in you!” I looked at Ethan in disbelief. In the past, I might not have understood why he would do this to me. But now, knowing the whole truth, how could I not understand? For Summer’s sake, he could fake a relationship with me, spread my private photos, and now pin Summer’s plagiarism on me. What was so surprising about that? I was in agony, but I also knew any explanation would be powerless against Ethan’s statement. The advisor dismissed Ethan and Summer, then severely reprimanded me again, declaring my paper void and adding it to my record. I walked out of the advisor’s office in defeat. As soon as I stepped out, I saw Ethan alone, leaning against the hallway wall, clearly waiting for me. I stopped, looking at this man I’d loved for two years who had deceived, used, and hurt me from beginning to end. My voice was dry and trembling: “Ethan… don’t you think you owe me an explanation?” Ethan looked up, his eyes still indifferent. “Summer accidentally deleted her paper yesterday. It was the deadline, so she asked me for yours to reference.” Reference? Direct copy-paste with identical grammatical errors was “referencing”? My heart ached so much I could barely breathe. He continued in that cold, pleasant yet utterly cruel voice: “Your scholarship has already been canceled, but Summer is still competing for one. So this paper is very important to her. You… you’re already in this situation anyway, so it doesn’t matter.” Doesn’t matter… Every word was about Summer Bennett. He never considered my feelings, never thought about how much it would hurt me. Enormous grief and anger instantly overwhelmed me. I couldn’t hold back anymore and screamed at him hysterically, pouring out all my grievances, pain, and despair! Ethan probably saw me—usually so gentle and obedient—in such a desperate state for the first time. His brows furrowed slightly. “It’s just one paper. Why make such a fuss?” He frowned and grabbed my wrist. “You’ve always wanted to have dinner with me, right? I happen to be free today. I’ll take you.” I violently shook off Ethan’s hand, that force carrying all the despair and anger I’d suppressed for so long. “I’m not going!” My voice trembled with agitation, my eyes red as I glared at this man I’d once loved so deeply. “I’m not that pathetic! If you really don’t want to have dinner with me, then don’t ever have dinner with me again!” With that, I turned decisively and practically ran away from that suffocating place. Ethan stood there. He didn’t chase after me. After all, in the past when I looked at him, my eyes were always full of light, filled with careful admiration and complete obedience. If he said go east, I would never go west. If he so much as frowned, I would immediately reflect on what I’d done wrong, then soften my voice to comfort him. To him, this really was just a trivial matter. Coaxing Summer required effort. Coaxing me? Unnecessary. In his understanding, even if I was angry, I’d get over it on my own.

Olivia POV I went to the cafeteria alone, ate something randomly, then went directly to process my withdrawal. Hearing my reason for withdrawing was “studying abroad,” the staff, though somewhat regretful about my previous excellent grades, thought of the recent private photo scandal and the plagiarism incident that had just occurred, and merely expressed understanding in a formulaic way without trying to keep me. “The withdrawal process takes a few days to approve. Just attend classes normally during this time.” “Thank you, professor.” I replied quietly, my face expressionless. I went through the day’s classes like an empty shell. When the bell rang, I gathered my books and walked out with the crowd. Passing by the school’s little garden, I saw many people rushing excitedly in one direction, their voices buzzing with excitement: “Quick! Quick! There’s a fight up ahead!” “Oh my god, it’s Ethan Chase! I’ve never seen him that angry!” “He’s fighting over Summer Bennett!” I stopped in my tracks, my heart pricked by tiny needles. I inexplicably followed for a few steps and indeed saw a small circle of people ahead. In the center, Ethan was grappling with another male student. Usually so coldly composed, he now seemed provoked, his movements fierce, that handsome face showing rare fury. The surrounding chatter drifted into my ears in fragments: “I heard that guy confessed to Summer, got rejected, then started harassing her…” “Ethan’s usually so calm, but he actually got physical…” “But isn’t Olivia his girlfriend? Why is he fighting over Summer?” “Tsk, don’t you get it? Ethan saw those photos of Olivia—he’s probably disgusted with her already…” Listening to these words, that barren land in my heart still produced sharp, fine pain. Just then, Summer in the crowd rushed forward like a frightened deer, crying as she hugged Ethan’s waist from behind: “Ethan, stop fighting! I’m so scared… please stop…” Ethan’s movements stopped abruptly. He released the male student who could barely stand from the beating, turned around, and the violence on his face instantly dissipated, replaced by a kind of almost clumsy tenderness I’d never seen. He carefully wiped Summer’s tears, his voice so low and gentle it could drown someone: “Don’t be scared. I’ll stop. Did I frighten you?” That extreme tenderness and care was like a poisoned ice blade, completely shattering my last bit of self-deception. He had never looked at me that way. Never coaxed me in that tone. Even during sex—the most intimate act—he found me so repulsive he had his brother substitute! How blind must I have been to think he liked me? Just then, Ethan’s gaze inadvertently swept across the crowd and happened to meet mine. He froze again, seemingly not expecting me to be there, an extremely brief complex emotion flickering in his eyes. His lips moved slightly, as if he wanted to say something. But I looked away first, as if merely seeing an irrelevant stranger, and turned to leave expressionlessly. That evening, I returned to the apartment, physically and mentally exhausted, and went to bed early. Before long, there was noise at the door. Adrian had returned. “Liv, why are you sleeping so early today?” He came over, his tone carrying its usual casual intimacy. I faced away from him, my voice flat: “Nothing. I’m tired.” Adrian heard the coldness in my tone and hugged me from behind, beginning to coax me skillfully, explaining away the paper incident and the fight with his set of false rhetoric. I listened numbly, thinking: one responsible for hurting, one for comforting—these two brothers’ coordination was truly seamless. I closed my eyes, not wanting to say another word to him. Seeing I was ignoring him, Adrian habitually moved closer to kiss my neck, his hands starting to wander. I shoved him away hard, my voice carrying suppressed exhaustion and disgust: “I said, I’ve been really tired lately. I don’t want to.” Adrian, rejected repeatedly, looked somewhat displeased, but seeing my genuinely pale face, he finally held back, though his tone cooled: “Fine. Sleep then.” When I woke the next day, I was surprised to find Adrian still there, not gone early as usual. “Why are you still here?” “Where else would I be?” Adrian smiled naturally, moving closer to hug me. “I upset my baby yesterday, so I specially took the day off to make it up to you properly, okay?” I understood immediately. Ethan probably couldn’t be bothered to put on an act and had simply dumped the entire coaxing task on his brother.

Olivia POV My heart stung. I was about to say it wasn’t necessary when Adrian didn’t give me a chance to refuse and pulled me up: “Haven’t you always wanted to do that list of 100 things couples must do together? I’ll do them all with you today!” He didn’t allow me to refuse, forcefully dragging me out—watching movies, visiting amusement parks, eating desserts… doing all sorts of seemingly sweet and romantic things. He dragged it out until evening, then took me to an upscale club. “Have some drinks, relax a bit.” Adrian settled me on the private room sofa. “I’ll go order drinks. Be right back.” After he left, I was alone in the room. I leaned back on the sofa exhausted, just wanting to end all of this as quickly as possible. Suddenly, the door was violently shoved open. Several men reeking of alcohol stumbled in, and seeing me, their eyes immediately lit up. “Oh! There’s a beauty here! She’s gorgeous!” “Have a drink with us? How much to sleep with you?” “I’m not…” I stood up in fright, my face pale as I tried to explain. “Stop acting innocent! Everyone who comes here knows what it’s for!” Those drunk men didn’t believe me at all. Leering, they surrounded me and even locked the door! I backed away in terror, struggling and calling for help desperately, but as one woman I had no strength against several drunken men. My clothes were being torn. Despair engulfed me like icy water. Just when I thought I was completely finished— “BANG!” A loud crash—the door was kicked violently open from outside! Adrian stormed in furiously. Seeing the scene inside, his eyes instantly turned red! Like an enraged leopard, he struck with extreme ruthlessness, using both fists and feet, instantly taking down several people! But he was only one person against many. In the chaos, someone grabbed an empty bottle and swung it at me! “Watch out!” Adrian roared and lunged over, shielding me completely with his body! “CRASH!” The bottle smashed heavily on the back of his head, shattering instantly! Blood immediately gushed out! Adrian grunted but his eyes grew even more fierce. He turned and kicked the sneak attacker violently across the room! The club’s security and management finally arrived and quickly controlled the situation. Adrian staggered and, losing all strength, collapsed into my arms. I stared at the blood continuously flowing from his head, my mind completely blank, only able to call an ambulance with trembling hands. At the hospital, I kept vigil all night. The next morning, the nurse urged me to go rest: “The patient’s condition is stable. He’ll wake soon. Go get some rest.” I was indeed exhausted and nodded. Halfway down the hall, I realized I’d left my jacket in the room and turned back. Just as I reached the door, I heard Adrian’s clear voice inside, apparently on the phone: “…Not bad. I won’t die.” The person on the other end said something, and Adrian scoffed: “Obviously. Otherwise how would I get her to willingly have sex with me without staging that scene… Tsk, the experience really is good. She has a great body. Most importantly… her voice is a bit like Summer’s. Sounds nice—I can just pretend I’m fucking Summer…” “Like Summer? Of course I like her… but my brother likes her too. What can I do?” “Compete? Forget it. Summer likes my brother. They like each other. I’ll just silently watch over her…” “While my brother hasn’t completely broken up with her yet, I’ll sleep with her as many times as I can…” Standing outside the door, I felt struck by lightning, my entire body frozen with cold! So… even last night’s heart-stopping rescue was a scene he directed and acted in himself! Just to gain my sympathy and make it more convenient to have sex with me?! Even seeking another woman’s shadow in me?! I thought that desperate protection contained at least a shred of sincerity. It was all a joke! Even more cruel and laughable than Ethan’s coldness! I covered my mouth in agony to keep from crying out and stumbled away from the hospital.

Olivia POV That evening, Adrian returned to the apartment with bandages wrapped around his head. “Liv? Why’d you come back? Why not rest more at the hospital?” His tone was normal, as if those words from during the day had never been spoken. I forced down the heart-wrenching pain and nausea, saying quietly: “I watched over you all night. I was too tired, so I came back to rest.” Adrian walked over and tried to put his arms around me, his tone aggrieved: “Look how badly I got hurt for you. Stop being mad at me, okay?” As he spoke, his hands began wandering over my body again, trying to kiss me. I shoved him away hard again! Adrian’s expression finally darkened: “Olivia, I’ve been coaxing and coaxing you. How long are you going to keep this up? Haven’t I made it up to you already?” “Is that the only thing on your mind when you’re with me?” My voice carried tears and despair. “Of course not!” Adrian answered quickly, his acting impeccable. “I like you as a person!” I looked at Adrian and suddenly laughed—laughed until tears streamed down my face. I said nothing more, just looked at him with those cold, desolate eyes. Adrian felt inexplicably guilty and annoyed under my gaze. Finally, he grabbed his jacket with a cold snort and slammed the door on his way out. Knowing he wouldn’t return tonight, I finally had a moment to breathe. The next day I went to school. The club president found me: “Olivia, the club’s having a team-building dinner this weekend—barbecue. You have to come!” I wanted to refuse: “President, I…” “Don’t refuse!” The president grabbed me and lowered her voice. “Also… could you bring your boyfriend Ethan Chase? His family company is so big, and lots of us are about to start internships. Everyone wants to build a good relationship with him… but we can’t usually get close to him. We’re counting on you…” I knew that if I sent Ethan a message he probably wouldn’t respond, but the club members had genuinely been good to me before. I had no choice but to steel myself and send him a message. Unexpectedly, when the weekend dinner came around, Ethan actually showed up. Except… Summer Bennett was with him. Seeing me, Ethan merely glanced indifferently, his tone calm and emotionless: “When you texted me, I happened to be with Summer, so we came together.” My heart felt like it was being pricked with needles. I nodded silently.Throughout the entire barbecue, Ethan’s attention was entirely on Summer. He picked out the best-grilled meat for her first, carefully removed the fatty parts, inserted a straw into her drink before handing it over, and when sauce got on the corner of her mouth, he naturally took a napkin and wiped it away… That kind of meticulous care was something I had never experienced. I couldn’t help but think back over the past two years. Because Ethan was the prestigious heir to a conglomerate, I had always been the one carefully managing his emotions, remembering all his preferences, and following all his habits. I even thought he was naturally that cold by temperament. Until today, when I saw with my own eyes that he wasn’t incapable of caring for someone or being thoughtful—it’s just that the person who could make him willingly set aside his pride was never me. I even saw Summer naturally place vegetables she didn’t like into Ethan’s bowl, and he merely furrowed his brow slightly before actually lowering his head and eating them. I remembered that Ethan had severe mysophobia. He never ate food that others had touched. Once when I accidentally served him food with my own utensils, his face went cold on the spot, and he didn’t touch another bite of that meal. So it turned out all principles and habits could be broken for the person you truly liked. During the meal, everyone started playing games. The first person to lose was Summer. Her punishment was to drink three shots of hard liquor. The moment Summer showed a troubled expression, Ethan directly reached for the glass, his tone decisive: “She can’t drink it. I’ll drink for her.” With that, he downed three glasses without changing expression. Later I also lost. My punishment was to eat a meat skewer covered in hot sauce. The spiciness made tears stream from my eyes and I coughed uncontrollably. I instinctively looked toward Ethan, but he was lowering his head talking to Summer, not even sparing me a glance, as if he hadn’t seen my distress at all. My heart went completely numb in that disregard. Falling in love with him was the worst decision I’d ever made in my life.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “387358”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster