Category: English

During the holidays, my brother added his brand-new girlfriend to our family group chat. My mom instantly redirected her matchmaking artillery at me: [Look at your brother. Look at the amazing girl he found.] My brother, who had betrayed the “Single Forever” alliance by getting a girlfriend first, fanned the flames in the chat: [Zoey, you have no idea how perfect she is.] If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em. I replied: [Yeah, yeah, yeah. If she’s so great, I’ll just date my sister-in-law.] The group chat fell dead silent for a full minute. Then, my mom and my brother sent back-to-back 60-second voice memos screaming at me. Meanwhile, my “sister-in-law” simply replied with a blushing emoji. They all thought I was joking. But I’m actually gay. 1 In previous years, because my older brother Connor was a confirmed bachelor, he took all the heat when it came to our mom’s relentless pressure to get married. I could always hide safely behind him and enjoy a peaceful holiday. This year, before flying home for Christmas, I specifically texted him to double-check: [Do you have a partner yet? Tell me you didn’t betray the alliance.] Connor was reliable as always: [Nope. Come home in peace. I’ll take the heat again this year.] I replied with a thumbs-up emoji: [You’re a real one!] It wasn’t that I didn’t want to find someone. It was just that if I actually brought a woman home, Mrs. Hayes—my mother—would probably disown me on the spot. To preserve our mother-daughter relationship, I kept the closet door welded shut. Whenever she nagged me, I just deflected it onto my brother: “Connor isn’t even married yet! It’s not right for the younger sister to date before the older brother.” Mrs. Hayes would immediately shift targets, scolding Connor for not setting a good example. This year, she dropped an ultimatum in the group chat, using both the carrot and the stick: [This Christmas, whoever brings a partner home gets a $10,000 holiday bonus. Whoever comes back single can forget about calling me Mom!] When Mrs. Hayes got angry, the whole family trembled. I texted Connor: [Bro, do not turn on me. Stay strong.] He took half the day to reply: [Don’t worry. I’ve got this.] Despite his reassurance, my right eyelid kept twitching. Sure enough, the day before my flight, Connor suddenly added a new person to the “Hayes Family Hub” group chat. [Everyone, let me introduce Audrey Mitchell. She’s my girlfriend, and I’m bringing her home for the holidays.] Audrey immediately followed up: [Hello, Mrs. Hayes. Hi, Zoey.] I opened a private chat with Connor and fired off three question marks. What happened to not betraying the alliance?! Connor didn’t reply. Meanwhile, Mrs. Hayes sent several voice memos to the group. I clicked on them, and they were filled with her joyous laughter and overwhelming words of welcome. I played dead. Was it too late to cancel my flight? After practically showering Audrey with affection in the chat, Mrs. Hayes finally remembered the one fish that slipped through the net: me. [Have you found anyone yet?] [I’m not asking you to get married tomorrow, but at least start dating!] [Look at your brother. Look at the amazing girl he found.] Not only did Connor ignore my private texts, but he also joined in on the bullying: [Zoey, you have no idea how perfect she is.] I could practically see the gloating smirk on his face. He had zero remorse for his betrayal. My anger flared. If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em: [Yeah, yeah, yeah. If she’s so great, I’ll just date my sister-in-law.] 2 The group chat fell dead silent. A minute later, Mrs. Hayes and Connor sent back-to-back 60-second voice memos. Audrey simply replied with a blushing emoji. They didn’t take me seriously. But I was genuinely gay. Ignoring the bombardment of messages in the group, I sent Connor one last private text: [The alliance officially strips you of your brotherly privileges. You’re dead to me!] After hitting send, I closed my eyes to sleep. I needed to rest up so I could handle Mrs. Hayes’s artillery. Sure enough, the moment I stepped through the front door, Mrs. Hayes started with her sarcasm. “Oh, whose stray kitten is this? Did you wander into the wrong house?” My skin is thick. I hugged her and acted cute. “My wonderful, beautiful mother, your sweet daughter is home!” Her eyes held a smile, but she kept her face stern. “If you were really sweet, you’d get married. Your dad visited me in a dream the other day. He said seeing you and your brother still single makes him toss and turn in his grave.” My dad passed away when we were young. My mom raised us single-handedly. Later, when Connor and I moved away for work—him to Miami and me to New York—we tried to get her to move in with us, but she refused to leave her hometown. I lit a candle by my dad’s portrait on the mantle and joked, “Dad, Connor brought someone home this year. You can finally rest easy and close at least one eye.” Mrs. Hayes was so annoyed she raised her fists to lightly pummel me. I spun around and ran toward the kitchen. “I’m starving! I want your crispy fried chicken wings!” Mrs. Hayes yelled from behind me, “I didn’t make any!” But sitting right there on the kitchen counter was a fresh, steaming plate of crispy wings—timed perfectly for my arrival. Classic Mrs. Hayes: sharp tongue, soft heart. I pouted and said sweetly, “Thank you, Mom!” Mrs. Hayes busied herself pulling various snacks out of the cabinets. “Alright, alright, enough sweet-talking. Text your brother and ask how far away they are.” Just the mention of Connor made me irritated. That traitor still hadn’t replied to my private message. I slumped onto the sofa and sent a voice memo: “Mom wants to know how long until you get here.” This time, he replied quickly with a voice memo of his own. I tapped it, but a woman’s voice came through: “Your brother is driving. We’ll be there in about ten minutes.” My scalp tingled. That deep, slightly husky, elegant voice absolutely destroyed me. Where the hell did Connor find a girl with a voice like that? Before she even walked through the door, I was already intensely curious about Audrey Mitchell. Ten minutes later, the doorbell rang. I sprang up from the sofa. Mrs. Hayes rushed to the door with a massive smile. Connor’s booming voice came first: “Mom, your favorite son is home!” Then came Audrey’s voice: “Happy holidays, Mrs. Hayes.” As the three of them exchanged pleasantries in the doorway, Mrs. Hayes turned around, smiling so hard her eyes crinkled shut. Both her hands were full of gifts Audrey had brought. When Connor, who was blocking my view, finally stepped aside, Audrey’s tall, slender figure came into view. She stood there and slowly raised her eyes to look at me. Oh, my god. This woman was my absolute dream girl! Seeing me frozen in place, my mom urged, “What’s wrong with you? Don’t just stand there like an idiot. Say hello.” I looked at Connor. He was reasonably handsome, sure. But then I looked at Audrey. She was a drop-dead gorgeous, top-tier beauty. What did Connor do to deserve this?! The confusion slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it: “Sister, does my brother have some kind of blackmail material on you?” 3 Audrey froze for a second. When she processed what I said, she broke into a radiant smile. Her eyes seemed to hold sparkling galaxies. I was completely mesmerized. Connor’s expression turned incredibly weird, and uncharacteristically, he didn’t say a word. Mrs. Hayes glared at me. “What is wrong with you? How could you say that?” She turned to Audrey, looking embarrassed. “Zoey is spoiled rotten. Please don’t mind her.” Audrey replied gracefully, “Not at all. Zoey is very cute.” The pretty lady called me cute. While Audrey was pulled away by my mom for a chat, I sidled up to Connor and kicked his shin, lowering my voice. “Spill it. What is going on?” Connor rubbed his nose, his eyes darting away. “What do you mean, what’s going on?” He quickly ducked into the kitchen. “Hey Mom, what do you want for dinner? Let me show off my cooking skills.” Something wasn’t right. He was intentionally avoiding me! In the living room, my mom and Audrey were chatting animatedly. I couldn’t get a word in edge-wise. Connor was busy cooking dinner, and since I had zero culinary skills, I couldn’t help in the kitchen either. Bored out of my mind, I retreated to my bedroom to play video games. I got on voice chat with my gaming buddy, Jess. As we played, the conversation inevitably drifted to Audrey. I described her with wild enthusiasm, totally losing myself in the excitement. Finally, with the dramatic agony of someone whose wife had been stolen, I punched my mattress and sighed: “She is literally my exact type.” My headphone cable accidentally yanked out of the jack, and Jess’s hyena-like laughter blasted loudly through my bedroom speakers. Always eager for chaos, Jess yelled, “Then steal her from your brother!” At that exact moment, there was a knock on my bedroom door. I was lying on my stomach on the bed. I twisted my head around and saw Audrey standing at the half-open door. “Dinner’s ready. Your mom asked me to come get you.” The air went dead silent for three seconds. Then, Jess’s voice echoed loudly from the speakers: “Holy sh*t!” I frantically jammed the headphone cable back into the jack and scrambled to sit up. Through my headset, Jess was screaming about how Audrey’s voice was “literally lethal.” In front of me, Audrey’s lips were curved into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. That sentence about “stealing her from my brother”… how much of it did she hear?! 4 Throughout dinner, that single thought consumed my mind. I was so panicked I didn’t even dare to look up at Audrey sitting across from me. Yet, she was incredibly attentive to me. One minute she was putting food on my plate, the next she was serving me soup. If someone didn’t know better, they’d think I was the guest. The conversation at the table had originally been about her and Connor. But one sentence from Audrey suddenly turned the spotlight on me. “Zoey, do you have anyone you like?” I choked on a bite of rice, looking up to glare at her. Why are you bringing this up?! But she ignored my glare and pushed further. “What are your standards? I… have some friends with great backgrounds.” Mrs. Hayes, feeling like she had found an ally, immediately answered for me. “That would be wonderful! Zoey, say thank you.” But the way I saw it, this was Audrey’s polite way of rejecting my “stealing her” comment. I felt a pang of annoyance in my chest, though I knew I had no right to feel that way. A mischievous, slightly petty urge took over. It was my small revenge for her turning the conversation to me: “Then I’ll leave it in your capable hands, Audrey. As for standards… I think someone exactly like you would be perfect.” Mrs. Hayes flicked my forehead. “Stop talking nonsense. Audrey is a woman.” I rubbed my forehead, keeping my fragile closet door tightly shut. “I know that. I mean finding a guy with the same qualities as her. That works, right?” Mrs. Hayes laughed. But the instigator of the conversation, Audrey, saw her eyes darken. She didn’t put any more food on my plate for the rest of the night. She was a strange one. I played along with her, and she still got mad. And despite being mad, she still had to sleep in the same room as me tonight. I only had one bed in my room. Since she was the guest, I volunteered to sleep on the floor. But Mrs. Hayes waved it off. “You’re both girls, sleeping in the same bed is fine, right, Audrey?” My mom was a completely clueless, straight-as-an-arrow woman. Audrey lowered her eyes and agreed immediately. This made me doubt whether she actually heard my “stealing” comment or not. But right now, that wasn’t the most pressing issue. The most pressing issue was that Audrey, fresh out of the shower, was wearing a very thin, breezy silk slip dress. Even though the heating in the house was blasting, the moment she stepped out of the steamy bathroom, she still shivered slightly. I glanced at her, but quickly lowered my head, staring intensely at my phone to cover up my panic. I looked calm on the surface, but my mind was screaming. The only thing I could see was the brief, accidental glimpse of her full figure and those two very prominent, undeniable points. She wasn’t wearing a bra. 5 I had laid out a soft, clean rug on the floor next to the bed. I sat on the floor, leaning against the bed frame. I felt like I was floating, absolutely terrified to let my eyes wander. Audrey stood by the window, blow-drying her hair. The loud whirring of the hairdryer masked the sound of my heart, which felt like it was about to pound right out of my chest. Even though I had already showered, the back of my neck grew hot again, breaking out in a light sweat. I was seriously debating whether I should go squeeze into my mom’s bed for the night. My brain was completely short-circuiting. I didn’t even realize when the hairdryer finally stopped. When I snapped back to reality, a pair of pale, bare feet appeared in my line of sight. I looked up and crashed straight into Audrey’s scrutinizing gaze. I stammered, “W-what’s wrong?” Audrey leaned down. From this angle, a garden of spring colors filled my vision. “I called your name several times and you didn’t react. What are you spacing out for?” She was such a strange person. In front of Mrs. Hayes, she was gentle, graceful, and elegant. But when we were alone, her aura felt so overpowering I almost wanted to drop to my knees and call her “Ma’am.” My legs felt weak, my eyes darted everywhere, and I just kept blinking, absolutely refusing to look straight ahead. After her shower, she smelled exactly like my body wash. The faint, sweet scent was intoxicating. I leaned as far back as I could, but my back was against the bed. I had nowhere to retreat. She noticed me hiding. She pulled back, stood up straight, and looked down at me, her brow furrowing slightly as she spoke in a cold voice: “If you really don’t want to share a room with me, I can book a hotel and stay there.” If she did that, Mrs. Hayes would literally murder me. Besides, it wasn’t that I didn’t want to stay with her; I just didn’t dare to. Before I could even reply, she grabbed her coat and started walking toward the door. In a panic, I scrambled forward on my knees across the rug and lunged to grab her wrist. How was this any different from kneeling and begging? “Look at you, getting all impatient! I never said I didn’t want to. I’m just a little slow to react. What are you doing?!” Audrey stopped, looking down at my hand wrapped around her wrist. She said meaningfully, “Your reaction time really is very slow.” It felt like she was talking about what just happened, but also like she was talking about something else entirely. I awkwardly let go of her wrist, stood up, and sat back on the edge of the bed. Trying to steady my breathing, I patted the mattress. “Do you prefer sleeping on the inside or the outside?” She flipped off the light switch. In the darkness, her voice drifted over. “Either is fine.” As her silhouette moved closer, I panicked, scrambled onto the bed, and plastered myself against the wall on the inside. Audrey paused by the bed for a few seconds before finally lifting the blanket. That’s when I realized Mrs. Hayes had only left us one large comforter. Which meant Audrey and I were truly sharing the same bed, under the same covers. If my gaming buddy Jess found out, she would probably be jumping up and down screaming. I pressed my back against the cold wall, putting as much distance between us as possible. From the moment she lay down, she didn’t move an inch. Her breathing was steady, her sleeping posture perfectly composed. Just as I thought she had fallen asleep, a warm body shifted closer. Then, a soft arm brushed against mine, and a voice completely devoid of emotion whispered: “Cold.” Because I had intentionally pulled away earlier, there was a gap between us letting cold air into the blanket. Wearing only a thin slip dress, of course she was cold. My entire body went rigid. I said dryly, “Then… tomorrow I’ll ask Mom to get another blanket.” “No need. Just sleep.” She was too close. I was terrified she could hear my heartbeat. I stared wide-eyed at the dark ceiling, completely unaware of when I finally drifted off. That night, I had a dream. I dreamt there were dozens of huge, soft, fluffy, sweet-smelling marshmallows. I had one in my left hand, one in my right, and I was eating them happily. But when I woke up, I was horrified to discover… The soft, fluffy marshmallows from my dream might have actually originated from the woman in front of me… whose chest was incredibly soft and full. 6 Before we fell asleep, we were both perfectly well-behaved. But waking up to find myself buried in her chest, tightly wrapped in her arms… what the hell was going on?! Oh God, I’m a sinner. I didn’t dare to move a muscle. Listening to the sounds outside the door, my mom and Connor were already up. It wouldn’t be long before Audrey woke up too. My brain worked at lightning speed, trying to figure out a way to break this awkward embrace without waking her up. But before I could come up with a plan, her eyelids fluttered. She was about to wake up. I immediately squeezed my eyes shut, played dead, and threw the impossible problem into her lap. A few seconds later, Audrey stirred with a soft groan. When she realized what was happening, her entire body stiffened. But unlike me, she quickly relaxed. However, she didn’t make any move to let me go. I could feel a heavy gaze locked onto my face, and her warm breath brushed against my skin. My muscles were slowly cramping up from the tension. Just as I was about to crack and open my eyes, she gently released me. The sound of the mattress shifting as she got up, the rustle of clothes as she stood by the bed, and the soft click of the door opening and closing. Listening closely, I finally concluded she had left the room. I let out a massive sigh of relief and slowly opened my eyes. The first thing I saw was the white ceiling. White. The marshmallows in my dream were also so white. Realizing what I was thinking about, I quickly sat up. But when I saw the person leaning against the bedroom door, I almost screamed. Audrey hadn’t left the room at all. She was looking at me with a half-smile, tilting her head as she asked: “Did you sleep well last night? I didn’t disturb you, did I?” 7 Actually, I slept great last night. But she definitely disturbed me. Otherwise, why would I have dreamed of grabbing giant, fluffy marshmallows with my bare hands? I lowered my head and mumbled, “It was fine.” Audrey seemed to be in a great mood. Only then did she open the door and leave. I flopped back onto the bed, kicking the blankets, gripping my hair, screaming silently in frustration. “Oh, right.” The person who just left suddenly popped back in. I immediately sat bolt upright. Audrey’s eyes were dancing with amusement, but her face was completely serious. “I slept wonderfully last night.” She glanced at my head. “Your bedhead is very unique.” With that, she turned and left. I swear I heard her laugh! It’s all my fault for being blind. I thought she was a cool, mature goddess, but she was actually completely devious. And the freshly baked biscuits on the breakfast table only made my vision go dark. After last night’s dream, anything “fluffy” and “round” was a banned word for me. But the clueless Mrs. Hayes found it strange. “Didn’t you always love these biscuits for breakfast? Why haven’t you taken a single one?” Everyone at the table stared at me, including Audrey. I picked up my bowl, chugged my oatmeal in one breath, set it down, and fled. “I’m full, you guys take your time.” My mom called out from behind me, “Don’t run off just yet. In a bit, you and your brother are going to the supermarket to buy groceries for the holidays. I’m going to the farmer’s market.” I absolutely refused to be a third wheel. I frantically winked at Connor. But he completely missed the signal. Instead, he said, “Zoey, you take Audrey. I’ll go with Mom to the market. I’m cooking New Year’s Eve dinner tonight, so I know exactly what ingredients I need.” Mrs. Hayes thought this was incredibly reasonable. She beamed at Audrey affectionately. “Audrey, pick out whatever you want to eat, and let Zoey pay for it.” Unable to disobey my mother, it ended up being just me and Audrey going to the supermarket. The store was packed with people doing their holiday shopping. I pushed the cart, and Audrey initially followed a step behind me. But as the crowd grew denser, carts bumping into each other, Audrey eventually slipped one arm around my waist, resting her hand on the cart’s handle. She was practically half-embracing me. With her free hand, she grabbed things off the shelves, occasionally leaning down to softly ask if I wanted something. This silent, seamless care radiated ultimate “big sister” energy. My face inexplicably burned, and I didn’t dare to meet her eyes. When she leaned down to ask me a question for the nth time, she finally noticed something was wrong. “Why is your face so red? Are you feeling sick?” I desperately fanned myself with my hand, trying to cover it up. “It’s probably just because there are so many people. It feels stuffy.” This time, she firmly wrapped her arm around my shoulders, navigating us out of the crowd until we reached a relatively empty aisle. She pulled out her phone and brought up her QR code. “Add me on WhatsApp. Send me the shopping list, and I’ll go get the rest.” “No, it’s fine. I’m okay,” I said embarrassedly. After all, “stuffy” was just a convenient excuse. But she stubbornly held her phone out, her expression leaving no room for argument. And just like that, I added her. “Sorry for the trouble.” I stood in place, staring blankly at the bustling, noisy crowd, feeling a sudden, strange sense of loneliness wash over me. I suddenly wished that, in this massive world, there was one person who existed entirely for me. Audrey was incredibly efficient. Not long after, she returned with the rest of the groceries. She was tall and strikingly beautiful. Everywhere she walked, people turned to look at her. She navigated through the crowd, walking straight toward me, and finally stopped right in front of me. My wandering gaze found its focus, locking onto the face of the woman in front of me. Audrey dropped the items into the cart. One hand gripped the handle, while her other hand gently wrapped around my wrist. Her voice was soft. “Let’s go home.” My ears rang for a second. I want to steal her from my brother. 8 That thought flashed through my mind for a split second. It was so strong that when we got home and I saw Connor, I felt an overwhelming sense of guilt and subconsciously avoided him. Connor noticed. A few times he looked like he wanted to say something, but I always found an excuse to do something else and dodged him. Somehow, I made it to the evening. The whole family sat in the living room watching the New Year’s Eve broadcast. Mrs. Hayes got tired early, handed out our red envelopes, and went to bed. In previous years, it was always just me and Connor staying up till midnight. This year, there was an Audrey between us. They occasionally exchanged a few words, mostly Connor talking to Audrey. I was curled up on the sofa, texting Jess. She was mercilessly roasting the TV performances in the chat, and I couldn’t stop laughing. The other two in the living room looked over at the sound. Connor, always the gossip, asked, “Who are you chatting with? You’ve been grinning at your phone all night.” Audrey didn’t say anything, but her eyes were also fixed on my phone. I put my phone away, sat up straight, and stared at the TV. “Nobody. Just a friend.” “A boyfriend?” Connor teased. I instinctively glanced at Audrey. She had lowered her eyes; I couldn’t read her expression. “A girl.” Even Connor didn’t know about my sexual orientation, so he didn’t think much of it. Instead, he started lecturing me: “Why do you always hang out with girls? You need to expand your social circle, meet some guys. You can’t stay single your whole life…” He found a girlfriend and immediately started lecturing me. I was already annoyed because of the intrusive thought I had earlier that afternoon. I grabbed a throw pillow and whipped it at him. “You’re so annoying! Mind your own business.” Connor threw his arm up to block it. “I’m your brother. If I don’t look out for you, who will?” The pillow deflected off his arm and bounced straight into Audrey. Both of us instantly went dead silent. Connor scrambled like a loyal lapdog, snatching the pillow away and smiling apologetically at Audrey. “Sorry, sorry! Did that hurt?” Seeing them made me incredibly irritated. I snapped, “Just focus on your own relationship. I’m going to bed.” Connor’s face darkened. “Stop right there. Did you eat gunpowder today? Who made you mad? Staying up for the countdown was Dad’s tradition. Now that he’s gone, you won’t even listen to your older brother, is that it?” I looked up at Dad’s portrait. The man in the picture was smiling warmly, but I felt a sudden urge to cry. I sniffled and sat back down without saying a word. Seeing this, Connor’s aggressive posture deflated. He explained awkwardly, “Hey, you’re not actually crying, are you? I wasn’t trying to yell at you.” I hugged the throw pillow, my voice thick with emotion. “I’m not crying.” My phone chimed. It was a Venmo transfer from Connor. The amount was generous. He kept his eyes glued to the TV. “New Year’s gift from your brother. We good?” I didn’t hesitate. I tapped accept. “We weren’t even fighting.” He reached over Audrey and ruffled my hair. “Little gold digger.” This time I didn’t complain. I quietly let him mess up my hair. Audrey, who had been silent this whole time, suddenly spoke up softly. “You two are very close.” Connor looked quite proud. “Of course we are.” The TV was playing a cheerful comedy sketch, and the live audience laughed constantly. But as I watched, I grew increasingly silent. Connor was right. We had a deep bond as siblings. Despite our bickering, ever since Dad passed away, he automatically stepped up as the person who protected me. I couldn’t steal his girlfriend. Just past midnight, Connor took us downstairs to light firecrackers and fireworks. He even specifically gave me and Audrey a few sparklers to play with. Audrey and I stood in a safe spot, watching Connor light the firecrackers in the distance. As the fireworks shot into the sky and the firecrackers popped, I lit the sparkler in my hand. Without looking at Audrey beside me, I stared at Connor’s back in the distance. “Audrey, happy New Year. I hope you and my brother have a sweet relationship and stay together forever.”

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My roommate tossed her spare phone into my lap with a look of pure disgust. “This 35-year-old boomer is so annoying! Constantly making me memorize finance vocabulary, write market reports, and he even tries to control my weekend clubbing!” “It was just some online flirting. He’s such a control freak, acting like he’s my dad!” “But even though he’s a nag, he wires five hundred bucks for living expenses right on time every month. It’s perfect for a broke girl like you. The account is yours.” I didn’t bother responding, ready to get back to my textbook. Suddenly, a translucent floating comment appeared in front of my eyes: [Brooke is so adorably clueless! She has no idea her online fling is the multi-billionaire Wall Street legend!] [Is that control? He was literally grooming her to be the future Mrs. Billionaire!] [Just wait until the boss comes back to the States and realizes she swapped herself out. He’ll crush this stand-in side character and then start his groveling ‘chasing the runaway wife’ arc with Brooke.] I picked up the phone and smiled at my roommate. “I’ll take this burden off your hands, then.” A stand-in? A groveling arc? I didn’t care. I just wanted to ask the billionaire: Are there any shortcuts to getting into a top-tier business school? 1 Right in front of Brooke, I changed the phone number linked to the account and handed the spare device back to her. She took it, giving me a mocking look. “This cheap old guy might drop some coins, but his demands are psycho. He acts like a high school principal. Enjoy.” True, the designer bags the frat boys and trust-fund kids gave Brooke cost upwards of ten grand. Five hundred dollars a month was nothing to her. Brooke left for a date. The dorm quieted down, and I opened the chat with the profile that had no picture. The last message was from last night. [Read this week’s front page of the Wall Street Journal and send me an analysis report.] [Why aren’t you replying?] [You better fix your attitude and take this seriously. I don’t have time for your tantrums.] My eyelid twitched. I scrolled through their six months of chat history. It turned out they met on an elite financial forum. Brooke wanted to fish for a rich finance bro, so she played the part of a hardworking but impoverished straight-A student. This man, going by the screen name “N,” answered a few of her questions, and eventually, they exchanged numbers. Their conversations had absolutely zero flirting. It wasn’t “online dating” at all. It mostly revolved around: What books did you read today? How many economic models did you memorize? Are you following the latest fed rates? It was obvious he genuinely wanted to mentor her. Brooke’s English and grades were decent, so she took it seriously at first. But as time went on, she started faking sick, whining, or using ChatGPT to write garbage just to brush him off. At first, ‘N’ patiently corrected her mistakes. But lately, sensing her lack of effort, his tone had grown increasingly cold. Yet, he still transferred the $500 allowance right on time every month. In Brooke’s eyes, $500 wasn’t even enough for a nice pair of shoes. But to me—a genuinely broke student working four part-time jobs just to cover meals and textbooks—it was a godsend. The floating comments started rolling again: [N is Nathaniel Reed, the legendary titan of the venture capital world! A crumb of his insider info is enough to feed a normal person for lifetimes, and Brooke just gave him away?] [Does this cannon fodder Aria really think she struck gold? Nathaniel despises liars. When he finds out they switched, she’s dead meat!] I ignored the malicious text and focused on the message demanding an analysis report. I was a regular sophomore finance major. Because my family was poor, I couldn’t afford grad school prep courses. So I knew from a young age that studying was my only way out. I stayed up for five straight hours, reading last week’s financial briefs, looking up historical data, and writing a comprehensive report. After checking my grammar, I sent the document over. [I’m so sorry, I had my tonsils removed the past couple of days. Sorry for the late reply.] Fifteen minutes later, he replied: [You wrote this report yourself?] My heart clenched: [Yes.] …Another long silence. Then, a transfer notification popped up on the screen. $10,000. [Your angle is quite innovative. It’s worlds better than the empty garbage you were sending before. This is your reward.] [If you’re sick, rest. Goodnight.] Brooke’s “cheap old guy” casually dropped ten grand?! I stared at the zeros, my fingers trembling uncontrollably. The comments immediately turned sour: [WTF, this side character has insane luck! She got ten grand for one crappy report?] [Nathaniel only gave it because he values Brooke’s potential. Aria is just leeching off the female lead’s aura!] [Take it, take it. The more she takes now, the worse she’ll die later. Gold diggers never get a good ending.] I gritted my teeth and declined the transfer, sending the money back. N sent a question mark: [Not enough?] [No, no. It’s just that compared to money, I want an opportunity more.] [I want to apply to a top business school. Right now, I don’t have a good mentor, and I don’t have access to premium industry data.] […Could I be a little greedy and ask to borrow a premium Bloomberg Terminal account from you?] After I sent the message, it was like a stone dropping into the ocean. Half an hour passed. Nothing. I stared at the screen, my palms sweating cold. The comments started mocking me: [Looks like she crashed and burned! Playing hard to get, and now she lost the ten grand!] [What tier of a boss is Nathaniel? Did she really think he wouldn’t see through this cheap trick?] [Exactly. A regular college student wanting to get into Wharton? She thinks the boss is running a charity?] Just as I thought I had overplayed my hand and ruined this path, my phone buzzed. [Send me your detailed background information.] I immediately sent over a resume I had prepared long ago. I redacted my personal identifying info, leaving only my past grades and the simulated trading competitions I had participated in. The next day, I received a call from an unknown number. “Hello, I am Mr. Reed’s executive assistant. My last name is Hayes.” His tone was strictly professional. “The boss instructed me to meet with you to evaluate your specific situation. Are you available this afternoon?” I suppressed my excitement and forced a calm voice. “Yes, you can set the location.” 2 That afternoon, I changed into a clean, neat business suit and arrived at Mr. Hayes’s office on time. He looked me up and down, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes. The comments popped up right on cue to dig at me: [This hillbilly really doesn’t know her place, wearing a cheap suit to meet Assistant Hayes.] [He’s Nathaniel’s right-hand man. He’ll see right through this fake.] My palms were slightly sweaty, terrified I’d be exposed. But to my surprise, he only flipped through my portfolio, completely unbothered by my identity. “The boss believes you have some foundation, but you are still quite far from the requirements of a top-tier Ivy League program.” I agreed. “It’s exactly because there is a gap that I need guidance. As long as you give me the resources, I will catch up.” “The boss doesn’t give out resources lightly.” Mr. Hayes closed the folder. “He can provide you with the terminal account, and even arrange a team of Ivy League-level private tutors for you. “The condition is, you must absolutely obey all arrangements and meet every single performance metric.” “I accept!” I answered without a second thought. He nodded. “Then starting today, your schedule and study plans will be fully taken over by us.” 3 Three days later, I moved out of the dorms and into an ultra-luxury penthouse suite at a five-star hotel. There was an entire wall of books, a high-end laptop, and three private tutors on standby. Every morning at 6 AM, I woke up to listen to global financial news. At 8 AM, I underwent hellish training on relevant financial concepts. The afternoon was high-intensity oral presentations and breaking down real-world corporate case studies. And at night, without fail, I had to report my day’s progress to N. His replies were always brief. Sometimes it was just a single “Read.” Other times, it was a long string of razor-sharp critiques. He really was like a strict principal, using high-pressure tactics to reshape my entire way of thinking. The cold words on the screen didn’t make me feel wronged; instead, a surge of excitement welled up inside me. So this is the world of the strong? No warm and fuzzy feelings, just pure competence. In the morning, N sent me a message. [You’ve made significant progress recently. I’m giving you half a day off today.] I got praised! I couldn’t help but smile. I went back to campus to grab a few books. Just as I pushed open my dorm room door, I bumped straight into Brooke. She was decked out in designer clothes, holding a luxury bag, looking absolutely radiant. Looking at the plain white T-shirt I was wearing, she scoffed out loud. “The straight-A student finally decided to come back? What, did that old man dump you?” “No, he’s been tutoring me lately,” I told the truth. “Tutoring you? Hahaha…” She laughed loudly, as if she had heard the funniest joke in the world. “Aria, is your brain fried? A loser you met online who can’t even afford a decent gift—what do you expect him to teach you? “Teach you how to survive on five hundred bucks a month?” She poked the English finance textbook in my hand with her freshly done acrylic nails. “Chad is becoming the VP of his family’s company next month. He promised to give me a cushy corporate job soon. “I suggest you get a grip on reality. It’s better to marry well than to work hard. What’s the point of burying your nose in these stupid books? You’ll still end up working for someone else and suffering.” I dodged her hand and said flatly, “Everyone has their own goals. Five hundred bucks is fine, and working is fine too.” I hoped I could suffer this kind of “hardship” for the rest of my life. With the “female lead” making an appearance, the comments naturally got active again: [If Brooke knew she gave up a multi-billionaire, she’d literally die of regret!] [Is this seriously the female lead? Look at that smug, gold-digger face. She looks way worse than the side character!] [Traitor upstairs, shut up! The male lead always belongs to the female lead, okay? Learn the rules!] [Just wait. When the male lead takes back all his resources, the side character is going to be ruined!] I ignored the comments and walked away with my books. Was he going to forcibly rip the knowledge out of my brain? Over the next two months, my progress was visible to the naked eye. N’s attitude toward me also underwent a subtle shift. He no longer just issued one-sided commands. Occasionally, in the early hours of the morning, he would send a few casual photos from his business trips abroad. 4 But late tonight, after reading my notes, he suddenly sent a message. [Brooke, your writing style has changed recently. It’s much more rational and analytical than before.] My heart skipped a violent beat, and the comments started cheering. [The boss is getting suspicious! The identity reveal is finally happening!] [Side character, your days are numbered. Get ready for the hurricane…] I steadied my breathing and typed rapidly on the keyboard: [I’ll take that as a compliment! People grow. Right now, my only focus is on improving myself!] A long time after the message was sent, N sent a voice memo. “Good. Keep up that drive and ambition.” This was the first time I had ever heard his voice. Deep, magnetic, and carrying a detectable hint of amusement. “I’m flying back to the States mid-next month. I’m hosting a private business gala. You will attend as my plus-one. It will be the perfect time to evaluate you.” After listening to the voice memo, my fingers tightened around my phone. This day had finally come. [Famous scene incoming! The ultimate showdown!] [Brooke is going to be there too! The real and fake online girlfriends meeting at the gala—just thinking about it is thrilling!] [Following the plot, Nathaniel is going to expose the side character on the spot, kick her out of the gala, and immediately go beg Brooke for forgiveness.] Looking at those blinding words, I secretly clenched my fists. I didn’t study day and night just to be someone’s stepping stone. 5 Mr. Hayes sent someone to deliver an evening gown a day in advance. Along with a fifty-page dossier on the guests. “The core assets and recent primary investment intentions of tonight’s VIPs are all in here. “The boss doesn’t need a trophy date for show. You need to memorize the dossiers of the top ten core figures. “Remember, all of it.” I didn’t dare slack off. I spent the entire night memorizing them until I could recite them backward. Not only that, but I also used the terminal account to dig up everything I could on the recent financial reports of the companies owned by those ten titans. No matter what consequences my identity reveal would bring, I had to prove I was worthy of the resources he had invested in me. That evening, the car pulled up to a sprawling estate on the outskirts of New York. The air smelled of champagne and cigars. Guests conversed in hushed tones. Behind seemingly casual chatter lay cash flows worth billions. I grabbed a glass of sparkling water and stayed in a quiet corner. I silently matched the faces in the room with the dossiers I had memorized last night. Suddenly, a familiar female voice broke my concentration. “Aria? What are you doing here?” I turned my head and, unsurprisingly, saw Brooke. She was holding onto the arm of a slicked-back, flashy young man, staring at me in shock. This guy was probably the “rich boyfriend” she had mentioned. “This is a top-tier business gala. How did a broke student like you sneak in?” Brooke stepped closer, lowering her voice, her tone dripping with malice. “Don’t tell me you hooked up with some sketchy waiter and came through the back door?” The comments floated by right on time: [Brooke isn’t wrong. Isn’t that exactly how the side character snuck in—by scamming Nathaniel?] [Just waiting for the boss to walk in and publicly expose this vain girl’s true colors!] [Rubbing my hands together in anticipation…] I gave Brooke a sideways glance, didn’t respond to her, and let my gaze fall on the man beside her. “Chad, isn’t it? Your father’s factory was just cited for failing environmental compliance last quarter, and the bank is threatening to pull your loans, right?” Chad had originally been eyeing me with a frivolous, sleazy gaze. Hearing my words, his face dramatically changed. I smiled slightly. “Instead of trying to help your family weather the storm, you have the leisure to bring a date here and show off. Your priorities are truly astounding.” “Who… who are you? How do you know this!” His voice was already trembling. They had been keeping this a strict secret. If word got out at an event like this, he’d be finished. “If I were you, I’d immediately go over to Mr. Liu from Vanguard Holdings and have a few drinks with him. He has a pool of idle capital right now that might save you. Instead of asking me pointless questions.” Chad followed the direction of my finger, his face turning pale. Finally, he glared fiercely at Brooke. “Didn’t you say she was just a bookworm hillbilly? How does she know more about my industry than I do!” He threw off Brooke’s hand and hurriedly walked toward Mr. Liu. “Chad! What are you doing!?” Brooke stomped her foot in anger, glaring at me through gritted teeth. “What the hell are you playing at? You think reading a few financial news articles makes you a big shot in this circle?” I couldn’t be bothered with her tantrum. A commotion at the front of the hall caught my attention. The main doors were pushed open from the outside, and the banquet hall instantly fell silent. A tall man walked in, his facial features deep and sharp. He only gave a slight nod in response to everyone’s greetings, but his mere presence shifted the atmosphere of the entire room. Nathaniel Reed had arrived. 6 [AHHH! The male lead is here! So handsome, save me!] [Aria’s execution date has arrived. The boss will definitely realize at a glance that she’s not the girlfriend he saw in videos!] [As soon as Brooke complains, Nathaniel is going to be furious and start crushing the side character.] Brooke also recognized Nathaniel. Even though she didn’t know this was her “cheap old guy,” almost everyone had seen that face. He was a regular on the covers of financial magazines. She smoothed her hair and instinctively straightened her posture. “Aria, you think playing a little trick to scare off Chad makes you a winner? The man up there is a true titan. You better behave yourself!” The problem was, I couldn’t just “behave.” I adjusted my breathing off to the side. The judgment was imminent, and it would be a lie to say I wasn’t nervous. After exchanging pleasantries with a few senior figures, Nathaniel looked past the crowd and began searching the room. He finally locked onto my corner and strode directly toward me with his long legs. The crowd automatically parted to make way for him. Brooke, blushing with excitement, put on a coy smile and stepped half a pace forward to intercept him. “Mr. Re—” She barely opened her mouth to greet him. Nathaniel didn’t even give her a fraction of a glance. He brushed past her and stopped squarely in front of me. He looked me up and down with sharp eyes. “Aria?” His deep voice was exactly the same as in his voice memos. The surrounding crowd broke into murmurs. Brooke froze in place, staring at us in absolute disbelief. The comments also lagged for a second before exploding into a string of question marks. [What’s going on? Why did he call the side character… Aria?] [Right, shouldn’t he be calling her Brooke? He actually knows her real name!] [Oh my god, did the boss know they switched a long time ago?!] Looking at the wildly scrolling comments, I was also stunned. Where did I slip up? Was it really my writing style… Brooke had clearly recognized Nathaniel’s voice. Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Mr. Reed… your voice is… N? “B-babe! I’m right here! Don’t you remember me?” Her pitch suddenly went shrill. She pointed at me and yelled. “You’ve got the wrong person! She’s my roommate! I’m the Brooke you’ve been texting for half a year!” The room fell dead silent. Everyone’s eyes darted back and forth between the three of us. Nathaniel turned his head slightly, his gaze sweeping coldly over Brooke’s face. “Brooke? I don’t know you. I only know her name is Aria.” It wasn’t until his eyes met my stunned expression that the chill in his gaze seemed to melt slightly. Brooke stood to the side, trembling with rage. “Babe! Don’t let this vain woman fool you! I gave her that account! She just wanted the living expenses you were sending! “You and those five hundred dollars should have been mine! I only let her take it because she was so poor and I felt bad for her!” Nathaniel finally looked her straight in the eye, but his gaze was filled with pure disdain. “You? You aren’t worth five hundred dollars.” Those words were like a physical slap to Brooke’s face. “The resources I provide only belong to those capable of catching them. Whether it’s connections or money. “Since you already traded the opportunity away, stop embarrassing yourself here.” Mr. Hayes appeared right on cue, bringing two security guards to forcibly escort Brooke out. She struggled wildly, screaming. “What are you doing! Let me go! Babe, I’m your real girlfriend! Aria is a complete fraud!” But no matter how much she screamed, Nathaniel didn’t spare her another glance. The guards efficiently covered her mouth and dragged her out of the venue. After a brief pause, the comments boiled over again. [The boss knew they switched the whole time?! Then what kind of roleplay has he been doing all this time?] [He pretended not to know so he could secretly play a ‘grooming a protégé’ game! OMG, why is this so cute?!] [What the hell is going on? Not only did the male lead not get mad at the side character, he kicked the official female lead out?!] [What happened to exposing her true colors? What happened to the groveling arc? The plot is broken, and their character arcs are completely wrong!] [Um… am I the only one who thinks the way the male lead is looking at the side character is intensely romantic?] Nathaniel shifted his gaze back to me, offering his arm, a very faint smile appearing in his eyes. “Stop spacing out, Ms. Aria. The evaluation begins now.” I took a deep breath, forced down the tidal wave of shock in my heart, and took his arm. 7 For the next two hours, whenever someone threw a question our way, Nathaniel skillfully deferred to me. Relying on the dossiers I had practically memorized until the pages fell out, and the business intuition I’d built under his intense pressure, I answered flawlessly. I could feel the gazes that had initially dismissed me slowly changing their tune. By the time the gala ended, I was physically exhausted, but mentally, I was in a state of unprecedented hyper-arousal. I did it. I didn’t embarrass him. That also lessened my guilt significantly. Late that night, the car drove smoothly down the highway. I turned to look at the man resting his eyes beside me and asked the question I’d been holding back all night. “When… when did you know I wasn’t Brooke?” Nathaniel answered with a question of his own. “You too. You didn’t seem surprised by my identity at all?” I coughed dryly. I couldn’t exactly tell him I had a cheat code. Nathaniel slowly opened his eyes. “After reading your very first analysis report, I knew.” “Huh? Just from one report?” He chuckled deeply. “The stuff Brooke sent was always very colloquial, filled with translation software junk and rambling. “Your logic was rigorous, filled with professional terminology. It was obvious you did the research and possessed independent critical thinking. “You can fake your appearance, but you can’t fake your brain.” I sighed. A titan is a titan. My little tricks were nothing in his eyes. No wonder Mr. Hayes never brought up my identity from the very beginning. “Since you knew it was someone else early on, why did you still provide me with such incredible study resources?” Nathaniel leaned slightly toward me. “I don’t run a charity, but I do know how to invest.” His tone was relaxed, revealing a very straightforward admiration. “I had Mr. Hayes run a background check on your real identity. “A girl from a poor background, working four jobs a day, yet still maintaining the top GPA in her major. Faced with the temptation of ten thousand dollars, not only did you not take it, but you used the opportunity to negotiate for a much bigger chance. “Your ambition and execution showed me a very high ROI. My firm needs talent like you.” My heart beat uncontrollably faster. He didn’t blame me; instead, he gave me incredibly high praise. I forced myself to stay calm. “So, did I pass the evaluation? How do you plan to arrange things for me next?” Nathaniel suddenly leaned close and unbuckled my seatbelt for me. His warm breath brushed past my ear, and I was so nervous I held my breath. “Move into one of my penthouses temporarily tomorrow. Before you get into business school, you’ll join my firm as an executive assistant.” He pulled back half an inch. “Aria, don’t fall behind. I’m very much looking forward to the day you truly stand shoulder-to-shoulder with me.” [Lifting you up to become a better version of yourself! Who can resist this kind of elite mentor boss?! Answer me!] [As expected, the adult world relies on value exchange. That’s the only way to maintain an absolutely stable relationship.] [Hey? Did you guys notice? Nathaniel’s gaze is so intense. He’s absolutely fallen for the side character!] I didn’t see that last comment. At that moment, I couldn’t stop my lips from curving upward. I had never felt so lucky in my entire life.

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Married to the heir of the Sinclair Empire for two years, he had always treated me with icy indifference. One night, I got up to go to the bathroom, and he suddenly grabbed my hand. When I turned around, the corners of his eyes were rimmed with red, his voice trembling: “Lily Monroe, are you trying to abandon me again?” 1 I never expected to run into Oliver Sinclair. In the VIP lounge of an upscale club, Bella affectionately pulled my arm, introducing me to Oliver. “Lily, this is my best friend from London. She just moved back.” Oliver looked at me, raising an eyebrow, his tone lazy and drawling. “Oh? Just moved back.” The knuckles of his hand gripping his whiskey glass slowly turned white. Bella leaned in and whispered in my ear, “That’s Oliver Sinclair. The heir to the Sinclair Empire. We’re all friends here, so if you ever need a favor, you can go to him.” Oliver stared at me, his eyes bottomless and dark. I forced a smile and extended my hand. “Oliver, long time no see.” Bella looked surprised. “You guys know each other?” “Yeah, we know each other,” I said, my voice cutting through the loud music. “But we’re not that close.” Bella, always the carefree optimist, didn’t overthink it upon hearing my response. Oliver looked at me and let out a scoffing laugh. He tilted his head back and downed his drink in one shot. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. In the past, I used to love teasing Oliver. I’d grab him, press my face against his neck, and kiss and bite that exact spot. I’d watch his breath hitch, pull away, and leave him looking at me with misty, puppy-dog eyes. Oliver looked away, his gaze falling coldly on the screen behind me. “Yeah, definitely not close.” My extended hand hovered awkwardly in the air. Bella quickly stepped in to smooth things over. “Well, the more you hang out, the closer you’ll get!” She patted my shoulder. “Don’t mind him, Lily. He’s just got a cold personality.” I gave a quiet “Mm.” Bella wanted to say more but was interrupted by the people around her. “Bella, your song is up.” “Lily, come sing with me!” Bella was in high spirits tonight and had clearly had a lot to drink. I was forcibly dragged along by her. In the corner of the room, a few girls were huddled around Oliver. Oliver sat with a dark expression, looking completely detached. But whenever a drink was offered to his lips, he didn’t refuse. This sent the girls, who were already thrilled just to be near him, into fits of excited squeals. The laughter from the corner was too loud. Bella jutted her chin toward Oliver’s direction. “Oliver’s acting totally out of character today. He usually doesn’t even spare a glance at girls like that.” I lowered my eyes and handed the microphone back to her. “Bella, it’s a bit stuffy in here. I’m going out for some fresh air.” Around the corner of the hallway, there was an open-air balcony. The cold, damp air sobered me up a bit. Oliver had his own reckless, vibrant life. And he and I were never meant to cross paths again. I leaned against the railing, staring blankly at the streetlights in the distance. The heavy sound of footsteps approached from behind. I turned around. Our eyes met. His narrow, pitch-black eyes were like a massive, inescapable net, ready to swallow me whole. Oliver’s voice was deadly cold: “Lily Monroe, how dare you show your face in front of me again?” 2 Our breakup was incredibly ugly. Oliver had escaped from the hospital to see me. Even though he was severely ill, he cooked an entire table of food for me. I don’t know where he heard it from, but he believed the saying, “The way to a woman’s heart is through her stomach.” But I always forgot to tell him that his cooking was genuinely terrible. All the food went straight into the trash. “Oliver, here are your keys. Don’t come back.” The IV catheter was still taped to the back of his hand. He tried to grab my hand, but I dodged him. Oliver was never known for his good temper, but at that moment, he forced a smile. “Lily, please. Let’s not break up, okay?” My response was a long, agonizing silence. “Lily, I know I have a bad temper and I get jealous easily. I’ll change. “From now on, you can wear whatever you want. You can go wherever you want, hang out with whoever you want. I won’t interfere.” A knock sounded at the door. I turned and opened it. Four or five burly bodyguards immediately swarmed in and pinned Oliver down. “Lily, you actually called my mother’s security team!” Oliver’s face paled instantly. His breathing grew rapid and ragged as he gasped for air. He was having an asthma attack. Out of habit, I reached for his pocket, but he didn’t have his inhaler. Taking advantage of my movement, Oliver gripped the hem of my shirt like a lifeline. Between violent gasps, he looked up at me. His hair was a mess across his forehead, and his beautiful, fox-like eyes were bloodshot and filled with moisture. He looked utterly defeated. He gasped, “Lily, if you think we’re breaking up… there’s no way in hell! I do not agree!” I pried his fingers off my shirt, turned my face away, and delivered my final, merciless blow. “Oliver, even if you die right here, we are breaking up.” Oliver was dragged away by the bodyguards. A few days later, my mother jumped off the roof of the hospital. There was no funeral. I took her ashes and left the country. It had been three years. 3 I lowered my head and tried to walk away, but Oliver stretched out his leg to block my path. “Since you’re here, aren’t we going to catch up?” I kept my eyes down. “We have nothing to talk about.” “Nothing?” Oliver scoffed. “Right, because even if I died right in front of you, you wouldn’t blink an eye.” He stared at me, his face as cold as ever, but the veins on the side of his neck were bulging. I looked at him and said softly, “Oliver, back then—” “Back then? You actually dare to bring up back then?” he cut me off, his tone turning vicious. “Back then, I was like an absolute idiot, holding onto hope, thinking you would soften. I lay in that hospital bed, hoping every single day that you would visit. And what did I get? You leaving without a single word.” He grabbed my wrist. His eyes were dark and heavy. “Lily, aren’t you afraid I’ll kill you?” “You won’t,” I said, looking up at him. “Oliver, you won’t.” He clearly didn’t expect me to react this way. He froze for a second, and even his grip on my wrist loosened slightly. After a long moment, he gritted his teeth. “Lily, don’t think I won’t do it just because I still care.” “I’m no longer the pathetic idiot who let you play him, the one who just wanted to know if you cared when I was hurting.” “I know,” I said. “You know?” He laughed out of pure anger. “So you intentionally came here today just to make me miserable?” “I didn’t,” I defended myself quietly. “If I knew you were going to be here, I wouldn’t have come.” His face darkened, and his grip tightened significantly. “Lily, I really want to cut you open and see if you even have a heart.” The distance between us vanished. I could feel his breath on my face. In his eyes, there was a madness he could barely suppress. I struggled to break free. “Oliver, let me go!” He refused. Everything felt like an arrow pulled back on a bowstring, ready to snap. Until a voice came from behind us— “Mr. Sinclair, holding onto my girlfriend in public… isn’t that a bit inappropriate?” 4 Oliver’s pupils shrank instantly. His voice grew tight, dripping in disbelief. “Girlfriend?” “That’s right.” Noah Harrison walked over, gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear, and asked softly, “Are you okay, Lily?” I shook my head. Noah wrapped an arm around my shoulder, a polite smile on his face. “Lily just moved back. She doesn’t know all the rules of the city yet, so please forgive her, Mr. Sinclair.” Oliver lifted his gaze, his pitch-black eyes locking onto me. “Girlfriend?” My silence served as a confirmation. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. Ready to detonate. A long moment passed. Oliver let out a mocking scoff, his eyes drifting lazily between me and Noah. “Well, isn’t that nice. You two are a perfect match.” Noah took my hand and smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Sinclair.” Oliver pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He brushed past Noah. “Lily,” he stopped and looked at me over his shoulder, his brow arched, enunciating every word. “Welcome back.” Before I could even react, he disappeared down the hallway. Noah let go of my hand, looking apologetic. “Lily, it was the heat of the moment. I hope you don’t mind.” I shook my head. “Thank you, Noah.” Noah wasn’t my boyfriend. When I almost died in London, Noah was the one who saved me. I looked at him, worried. “Noah, Oliver holds grudges. You just moved back, and you haven’t even secured your footing in your family yet—” He cut me off, gently ruffling my hair. Like a warm spring breeze, he said, “I know what you’re going to say. It’s okay. I’ll be careful.” When Noah and I returned to the private room, the group was playing Truth or Dare. Oliver sat right in the center. As we walked in, Bella called out, “Lily, come join us!” I waved my hand. “No, thanks, you guys go ahead.” Bella turned, noticed Noah standing behind me, and teased, “No wonder you’ve been so distracted. The person you were waiting for finally showed up.” Oliver’s hand, which was spinning the bottle, paused. I quickly explained, “No, I just wasn’t feeling well today.” Noah pressed the back of his hand to my forehead. “What’s wrong?” The crowd started cheering and whistling. “Oh my god, feeding us dog food the second he walks in! Give us single people a break!” My face instantly burned. I brushed Noah’s hand away and shook my head. “I’m fine.” CRASH. A glass bottle shattered. “Oliver, your hand is bleeding!” The girl’s shriek shifted everyone’s attention. Oliver said casually, “My bad. It slipped.” “There aren’t any pharmacies nearby. Let’s order some first-aid stuff on Postmates.” Bella called out to me, “Lily, you usually carry band-aids, right?” Oliver was practically royalty, but when we were together, he loved doing little DIY projects to make me smile, and he always ended up clumsily cutting his hands. Over time, carrying band-aids became a habit for me. I hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, I have some.” I held the band-aid out to Oliver, but he didn’t take it. “My hand hurts. I can’t put it on myself.” He stared straight at me. He had drank a lot tonight. His face was flushed, and his eyes were damp. I didn’t say a word. I just handed the band-aid to the girl sitting next to him. Her face lit up. “Oliver, I’ll do it for you—” “I don’t need it.” He stood up abruptly. The table shook, and a glass bottle clattered to the floor. His gaze shifted between me and Noah. “She’s not playing, so are you?” I nervously grabbed the hem of Noah’s shirt and shook my head. Noah patted my hand and looked at Oliver. “Mr. Sinclair, you should really take care of that wound first.” Oliver’s eyes darkened. His lips pulled into a sneer. “What? Too scared?” Noah smiled. “As you can see, my girlfriend won’t let me. I have to pamper her, right?” Noah paused and looked at Oliver. “If she breaks up with me over this, what am I supposed to do?” Oliver glared at me, his eyes burning with intensity. I turned my head, avoiding his gaze. “You guys are together?! Since when?!” Bella jumped in, looking shocked. “We’re friends, and you didn’t even tell me.” “It’s been a while,” Noah said, glancing at me. “When we have the time, Lily and I will treat everyone to dinner.” Oliver lowered his eyes. The blood from his fingers seeped into the pure white napkin. He radiated an icy chill. Bella wanted to gossip more, but I squeezed Noah’s hand and whispered, “Noah, I don’t feel well. Take me home.” 5 Noah drove me back to my apartment building. When I stepped out of the elevator, the hallway lights were out. Maintenance hadn’t fixed them yet. I fumbled in the dark for my keys. “Lily Monroe, you chose the wrong guy this time.” A familiar voice rang out behind me. I didn’t turn around. I just kept searching for my keys. “Noah Harrison looks successful, but he’s just the adopted son of the Harrison family. “The old Chairman is on his deathbed. Noah is going to be kicked out of the Harrison family any day now.” The key slid into the lock. “I know,” I said. Oliver grabbed my hand and pinned it against the door. “You know? “You know he’s about to lose everything, that he’s going to be kicked out like a stray dog, and you’re still willing to be with him?” My refusal to answer infuriated him. “Fine.” He let out a mocking scoff. “Since you love him so much, I’m sure you wouldn’t want him to lose the Westside Waterfront project, would you?” My head snapped up. “What do you mean by that?” Oliver chuckled, his tone careless. “What? Are you nervous? It’s just a tiny piece of land my family bought for fun.” With Chairman Harrison’s health rapidly declining, Noah desperately needed to secure his position within the family empire. The Westside project was the perfect stepping stone. He had been negotiating for it in secret for a long time but hadn’t been able to secure it. I never expected the true owner of that land to be the Sinclair family. I stared at him. “Whatever is going on between us, don’t drag other people into it.” Oliver looked at me like I’d just told a joke. “Did you forget? This is exactly the kind of person I am. “Selfish, ruthless, and willing to do whatever it takes. “I only pretended to be nice back then to please you.” I took a deep breath. “What do you want?” He lifted his gaze. “It’s simple. Break up with him.” I frowned. “Oliver, even if I break up with Noah, we—” “We what?” He sneered. “Lily, did you think I wanted to get back together with you? You think a little too highly of yourself.” He stared at me, his eyes burning. “Since you don’t want to be my girlfriend, then—” “Oliver,” I cut him off. “Let’s get married.” 6 “What did you say?” His grip on my wrist tightened abruptly. He froze, his face darkening. “Say that again.” “I said.” I placed my free hand over his. His hand was trembling. “Oliver, let’s get married.” “Get married?” He let go of me and took a few steps back, his face filled with mockery. “For Noah Harrison, you’re willing to trade your marriage.” “This has nothing to do with Noah,” I said, looking straight at him. “Are you willing to marry me or not?” He scoffed. “What? Are you trying to make me the official husband while you keep your side pieces on the outside?” He grabbed my chin. “Lily, I am not that generous!” I broke free from his grip. “Noah and I are just friends. He was only helping me out tonight. So, you don’t need to make things difficult for him.” Oliver’s eyes darkened, and his lips curled into a sneer. “So all of this is just because you’re worried I’ll cause trouble for him, right?” “Oliver, I’m telling the truth.” “Fine, even if you are telling the truth!” His jaw clenched, his eyes pitch-black. “Lily, am I a dog to you? “When you’re happy, you wave me over and pet me, and when you’re done, you kick me away. “You leave when you want, and you come back when you want!” His voice was tight with suppressed rage. “What do you take me for? Huh? “What makes you think I would ever marry you now?” I looked at him. The air grew heavy. After a long pause, I turned and twisted the door handle. “Okay, I understand.” “What the hell do you understand?” Behind me, Oliver’s voice was arrogant and cold. “Lily, if you think I’ll ever marry you in this lifetime, keep dreaming.” 7 I cut off all contact with Oliver. For the next two weeks, I was busy sending out resumes, looking for a job, and picking out a nice cemetery for my mother’s ashes. Just as I finished an interview one afternoon, Bella called and asked me out to dinner. I hesitated. “Is Oliver coming?” “Oliver?” She paused. “No, he’s not coming. He seems super busy lately, I have no idea what he’s up to. Why? Do you need to see him?” I let out a breath of relief. “No, it’s nothing. Send me the address.” “Don’t worry about driving, Noah said he’s going to pick you up.” That evening, in the private dining room at the restaurant. Before everyone arrived, I got up to use the restroom. I didn’t expect to run into Stella. She was dripping in jewelry, yet she still managed to look cheap. Like an over-decorated, obnoxious Christmas tree. “Well, well. Why didn’t you tell anyone you were back?” Stella looked at me, intentionally trailing her fingers over the stunning, flawless emerald pendant resting on her collarbone. “If Dad knew, he’d be so hurt.” I stared dead at the necklace, my throat tightening. “Take it off. Who gave you permission to wear that?” “Why should I?” She put on a look of mock realization. “Oh, I remember now. This belonged to your mother. “But what can you do? Dad already gave it to me. “If I felt like it, I could treat it like trash and flush it down the toilet.” I grabbed her wrist and yanked it hard. “I said it once. Take it off!” She yanked her hand back, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Lily, why are you yelling? Do you still think you’re the precious, untouchable princess of the Monroe family? “You’ve been in London for three years. Has Dad called you even once?” She took a few steps forward, getting right in my face. “But you know, I really should thank your mother. Because she was so good at making money, my mom and I get to live this fabulous life now. “It’s just a shame she was destined for a short life. She didn’t get to enjoy any of it.” The next second— A crisp slap echoed down the hallway. Stella clutched her right cheek, looking at me in disbelief. “You hit me! You’re just a bastard child my dad had out of wedlock, why wouldn’t I hit you?!” Furious, she screamed, “Do you have any idea who I came here with today?!” I smiled. “Oh? Who?” “It’s—” SMACK! I clapped my hands together. “There, now it’s symmetrical.” Stella’s cheeks were bright red. She gritted her teeth and shrieked, “Lily, I’m going to make you wish you were dead!” 8 The commotion in the hallway drew a crowd. Stella was sobbing on her phone. Noah rushed over, his eyes full of worry. “Are you hurt?” I shook my head. Not far away, a man radiating arrogant, sleazy energy swaggered over. Stella threw herself into his arms, crying, “Cole, you have to teach her a lesson today.” Cole Preston looked over, his tone light and dismissive. “Ah, it’s Noah Harrison’s friend.” I lowered my voice and asked Noah, “You know him?” Noah nodded, stepping in front of me to shield me. He smiled. “There must be some misunderstanding. Please forgive her, Mr. Preston.” Seeing this, Stella tugged at Cole’s shirt, pouting and shaking her head. Cole’s tone shifted instantly. “Since she’s your friend, we’re all friends.” Then, his voice dropped into something much more threatening. “As long as she slaps herself in the face four times, right in front of the entire restaurant, we’ll call it even.” Noah’s expression froze. The hesitation lasted only a second. He steadied himself. “Mr. Preston, regarding this matter—” “I heard Chairman Harrison hasn’t been doing too well lately.” Cole casually twisted the ring on his thumb. It was an open secret in our social circle that Noah’s position within the Harrison family was incredibly precarious right now. I looked up at Noah. I couldn’t let my impulsive actions make his life even harder. Revenge is a dish best served cold. A few feet away, Stella looked overwhelmingly smug. I stepped around Noah. “Four slaps, right?” “Exactly.” Stella stepped closer to me, unable to suppress the triumphant smirk on her face. “Do it. I want to watch you do it closely.” I closed my eyes and raised my hand. The next second, my wrist was caught from behind in an iron grip. Over Stella’s shocked scream… Oliver’s cold, indifferent voice rang crystal clear in my ears. “You think you have the right to hit the person I want?” 9 Oliver hit much harder than I did. With one slap, he nearly knocked the silicone out of Stella’s cheek. The best part was, my hand didn’t even hurt. When Cole saw Oliver, his entire demeanor changed. He immediately piled on the sycophantic charm. “Oh, she’s Mr. Sinclair’s girlfriend! Please forgive me, it was a huge misunderstanding. We’re practically family!” “Family? Do you think you’re worthy?” Cole’s smile died awkwardly on his face. Oliver cast a cold glance at Noah, then grabbed my wrist and dragged me away. Behind us, Cole yelled out, “Mr. Sinclair, let’s grab dinner sometime soon!” In the restaurant’s garden. “What? This is the guy you picked?” Oliver looked at me, mocking. “I told you, Noah and I are just friends.” Oliver crushed his cigarette out. “You think I’m blind? The way he looks at you—it’s obvious he’s in love with you.” I kept my eyes down. “I don’t like Noah.” “What about me?” His voice was low, sounding like it took immense restraint to ask. “Do you still like me?” I looked up at him. The warm yellow lights illuminated his face, softening the sharp, aggressive lines of his brow bone. A long silence passed. “Oliver, I—” “Fine, don’t say it.” He stood up abruptly. “Tomorrow morning at 7:30. I’ll pick you up.” “Huh?” He turned his face away, speaking coldly. “City Hall opens at 8:00. Let’s get it over with early, I’m very busy.” I stared at him in silence. He forced a smirk. “What? Are you regretting it?” I shook my head and asked softly, “Why?” “No reason.” He leaned in close, his voice deep. “I finally caught the perfect opportunity to torture you. Why would I let you go?” I looked straight into his eyes. “Can we do it the day after tomorrow?” His expression changed instantly. “What kind of game are you playing now?” “Tomorrow I have an appointment at the cemetery to inter my mother’s ashes.” He froze. Even his voice grew infinitely softer. “Do you want me to go with you?” I shook my head. “You’re busy. I can do it alone.” “Don’t worry, I won’t run away,” I added, seeing his silence. He stood up straight. The evening breeze ruffled the hair on his forehead. His voice sounded almost ethereal. “Lily Monroe, you weren’t the one who was abandoned back then. “If you dare lie to me again, you’re dead.” 10 The night we got our marriage license, I moved into his mansion. But he didn’t come home all night. This went on for a long time. He was like a completely different person. Forget torturing me; we barely even saw each other. On the rare occasions we did cross paths, he treated me with icy indifference, acting like I was invisible. I could think of one reason why. But it seemed he realized I was trying to wait up for him, because lately, he stopped coming back to the mansion entirely. One night, I went to the beach alone. Back in London, when I was completely heartbroken and hopeless, it was Noah who pulled me out of the freezing water. Oliver ended up giving the Westside project to Noah anyway. The power struggle within the Harrison family was reaching its boiling point, and I didn’t want to distract him. I tried to call an Uber, but realized I forgot my phone. The night was growing late, and the coastal breeze was freezing. I pulled my coat tighter and started the long walk back to the mansion. When I arrived, the massive front doors were slightly ajar. Oliver’s furious, low roar echoed clearly into my ears. “Martha, I told you to keep an eye on her! How could you let this happen?! “She’s missing! Why didn’t you tell me earlier?!” Martha was trembling. “Sir, her things are still in the house. I’m sure she’ll be back.” “She won’t! She’s never coming back!” A vase shattered on the floor. “Why do I pay you people?! “Find her! If you can’t find her tonight, you’re all fired tomorrow!” I took a deep breath and pushed the door open. “Oliver, I’m home.” He snapped his head up, his eyes bloodshot. The next second. He lunged forward, grabbing my wrist so hard it hurt, pulling me flush against him. His voice was trembling. “Where were you?!” His grip was painful. I swallowed the pain and tried to soothe him. “Oliver, I just went for a walk by the coast, I forgot to bring—” He hugged me. I rested my hands on his back. His shirt was soaked with sweat. “Oliver, don’t worry. I won’t leave.” As if realizing he had lost his composure, he pulled away and immediately reverted back to his cold, aloof persona. “Me? Worried about you? Lily, don’t flatter yourself.”

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I stumbled upon a post online. [My wife and I created a fake account to add our daughter as a friend. Now, we’re her long-distance boyfriend. We know all her little secrets.] I instinctively scrolled past it, but the IP address caught my eye. I froze. What a coincidence. It was the exact same city I lived in. The next second, my online boyfriend sent me a message. [Baby, go to sleep early. No staying up late.] A warm feeling bloomed in my chest. I replied sweetly: [Going to sleep right now!] The moment I hit send, I heard the sound of my parents’ bedroom door locking next door. 1 I didn’t think much of it and quickly fell into a sweet, peaceful sleep. His name was Ethan. He was two years older than me, a sophomore in college. He was the first person I had ever met online. We clicked instantly. He was considerate, gentle, and patient. He would seriously listen to me vent about the little annoyances in my life. I was constantly amazed by how compatible we were. He could always guess exactly what I was thinking, quickly and accurately. —[You seem upset. Did you get into a fight with your parents again?] —[Do you want to talk about it? Maybe there’s just a misunderstanding between you guys? You have to believe that your parents definitely love you.] I rubbed my eyes and typed out my frustrations and confusion on the keyboard, hitting send. He was so smart. He could always pinpoint exactly what the conflict was. And his advice was always incredibly useful. I was quickly able to resolve misunderstandings with my parents and make peace. I started relying on him more and more. We made a promise: we would meet in person after I finished my SATs and high school graduation. When the time came, I promised I would apply to the university he was attending. 2 The next day, that post was updated. Someone asked: [Isn’t that kind of messed up? What if your daughter finds out?] The poster replied: [We’re doing it for her own good. She was dead set on leaving us. She was planning to apply to colleges all the way across the country. But now, she’s decided to apply to a local university. For a girl, it’s better not to be too far from home.] My breath caught in my throat. Ethan’s university was local. And before I met him… I had wanted to go to an out-of-state college. Because of that, my relationship with my parents had become incredibly strained. Ever since I was little, I had to follow their arrangements for absolutely everything. What school I attended, what books I read, what friends I saw, what clothes I wore. Even whether I did my math homework or history homework first. Even whether I drank my soup before or after I ate my dinner. I lived like a robot. If I ever voiced a disagreement, they would violently object. Then, they would put on a deeply wounded expression. “Mia, Mom and Dad are doing this for your own good. You’re breaking our hearts.” I felt like I was suffocating. During the days when I felt like I couldn’t survive another second, I frantically searched online for the most painless ways to leave this world. That was when Ethan found me. He didn’t try to talk me out of it. Instead, he enthusiastically researched different “methods” with me. We often talked late into the night. As we were chatting one night, he suddenly said: [It looks like the sun is about to come up. Let’s pause the hanging idea and go watch the sunrise first.] I thought he was so interesting. Without realizing it, I started pouring out all my feelings of oppression and the suffocating control my parents had over me. He replied slowly, but he patiently helped me analyze and process my emotions. He even gave me little tips and tricks on how to handle them. I tried communicating with my parents using his advice, and to my surprise, it actually worked. I managed to fight for a tiny sliver of freedom to breathe. Occasionally, I could decide what clothes I wore, and I could even choose to just eat my food and skip the soup. But it wasn’t enough. I wanted to go to a college far, far away. I wanted a period of my life that was entirely under my own control. When I told Ethan about it, he replied happily: [Of course I support you! But I do have a tiny, selfish wish. I was hoping you’d be a little closer to me.] He sent a shy emoji. I belatedly realized what he meant. Clutching my wildly beating heart, I asked him: [Why?] After sending the message, I tossed my phone aside and buried my head under my blanket. For the first time in my life, I felt the flutter of a teenage crush. He sent a barrage of messages back. [Honestly, the first time we talked, I felt like you were different from anyone else…] [I like you.] [I’ll take good care of you and cherish you in the future. A beautiful girl like you deserves to be treated well…] My face burned red. My eyes were glued to that sentence: [I like you.] It was the first time anyone had confessed their feelings to me. The first time anyone had told me I was good. And just like that, we secretly started dating online. He would casually send me pictures of his campus. The cafeteria, the library, the tree-lined paths… [The food at the dining hall is pretty good. But it would definitely taste better if you were here with me.] [The AC in the library is blasting. If you were here and got cold, I’d give you my jacket.] [When autumn comes, this whole path will be covered in golden leaves. They say if a couple walks down this path together, they’ll stay together forever.] [I really want to watch the autumn leaves fall with you.] … I drowned in the sweetness of romance. The scales in my heart slowly tipped toward him. Finally. I said: [After graduation, I’ll come find you.] 3 I stared at the post on my phone for a long time. I looked up at my parents sitting across the dining table. They looked completely normal. For a moment, I hesitated. Maybe it was just a coincidence? When I went to my room to change my clothes, I thought about it. My fingers hovered in my closet. Instead of my usual jeans, I pulled out a skirt. My mom’s brow instantly furrowed. “Wear pants. That skirt is too short.” I looked down. “It’s past my knees.” My mom opened her mouth to object, but my dad gently tugged on her sleeve, shooting her a pointed look. They exchanged a glance. My mom sighed. “Fine, whatever you want.” She turned and walked into the bathroom. A few seconds later, my phone buzzed. Ethan sent a message: [Baby, I checked the weather. It might get cold today. Remember to wear a few extra layers.] I stared at the frosted glass window of the bathroom for a long moment. I looked down and replied: [Okay! Thanks for caring, baby.] I changed back into pants. My parents smiled, exchanged a look, and a satisfied expression appeared on their faces. My heart plummeted into my stomach. It wasn’t a coincidence. 4 I walked out the front door. The second I was sure I was out of sight from the living room window, I leaned against the brick wall of the building and started dry heaving uncontrollably. Disgusting. It was absolutely disgusting. With trembling hands, I tapped on the poster’s profile. He had updated the thread again. [This method works perfectly. She willingly tells us all her little secrets, and it makes her much more obedient and easier to manage.] [Like just now, she threw a fit about wanting to wear a short skirt. With a little trick, we pacified her instantly.] [And because we use a fake account, she’ll never blame us, her parents, no matter what happens. It doesn’t affect our relationship at all.] Fighting down my nausea, I scrolled through my chat history with “Ethan.” —[Baby, I missed you so much today.] —[I want to hold you.] —[Miss you. Kisses.] … I crouched on the sidewalk, my mind flashing back to the image of my parents exchanging those knowing, conspiratorial glances just moments ago. My stomach churned violently. So disgusting. How could anyone be so shameless? What were they thinking when they sent me those messages? Did they not feel sick to their stomachs? What kind of parents lure their own daughter into an online romance? And then confess their love to her? I couldn’t fathom it. How could a human being do something so utterly revolting? Just to satisfy their own sick need for control? And then try to justify it by saying it was “for my own good”? Shameless! 5 When I returned home, I forced myself to appear calm. Pretending to be casual, I asked: “Mom, Dad, if I started dating someone, would you be against it?” They exchanged a glance and forced smiles onto their faces. “Of course not. Mia, you know Mom and Dad are very open-minded.” I twitched the corner of my mouth into a smile. They had the most suffocating need for control, yet they always insisted they were “open-minded.” Before this whole “Ethan” online romance started, if I even touched my phone in front of them, they would hover over me, monitoring my searches and staring at my conversations with classmates. But after Ethan, they suddenly became incredibly “open-minded.” “Mia, you’re growing up. You need your own space. From now on, you keep your phone. Use it however you want.” At the time, I was so moved. I thought they had genuinely changed. Seeing that I wasn’t speaking, my mom tested the waters: “Mia, why are you suddenly asking this? Is there a boy you like?” My dad quickly added: “Don’t worry, your mom and I aren’t old-fashioned. You’re about to go to college. If you want to date, we won’t object.” It sounded so normal. They sounded exactly like two supportive, understanding parents who only wanted the best for their child. It almost made me doubt myself. It almost made me think I had hallucinated that Reddit post. I lowered my head, staring at the tips of my shoes. “I met a guy online. He says he goes to a local college, he’s a sophomore. I’ve read a lot of stories online about scammers, so I was worried he might be lying. I wanted to ask if you guys could go to his campus and check him out for me.” I heard them both let out a quiet sigh of relief. They agreed readily: “No problem.” I looked up, staring at them in feigned surprise. “Aren’t you… going to ask how we met?” They froze for a second, then quickly scrambled to correct themselves. “Oh! Yes, right, right. How did you guys meet?” I made up a random story. They listened absentmindedly, zero genuine curiosity on their faces. They didn’t ask a single follow-up question about how far our relationship had progressed. 6 A few days later, they told me, “He’s a great young man. You need to work hard and try to get accepted into his university.” I dug my nails into my palms, forcing a smile. “But my teachers said that with my grades, if I push a little harder, I could get into a much better university out of state.” Their faces instantly darkened. They didn’t explicitly forbid it, but they didn’t agree either. Instead, they just started talking non-stop about how beautiful the local university was, and how close it was to home. They practically yelled it into my ears. “That school is really fantastic. It would be amazing if our Mia could go there.” “Yeah, she’d be able to come home and stay with us every weekend. So convenient.” I hugged my backpack and walked back to my room. Before closing the door, I looked back at them. “Dad, Mom, is that guy really that great? Did you actually see him? Are you sure he’s not a scammer?” Caught off guard, my dad blinked uncomfortably and mumbled, “We asked around. He’s not a scammer.” I nodded and shut my door. “Thanks, Mom and Dad.” Shortly after my door closed, my phone buzzed. Ethan sent me a picture of a university study hall. [I’m so jealous. Everyone else has their girlfriend here studying with them.] I didn’t reply. I opened that Reddit post again. It had gone viral. A lot of people were tearing into him: [I can’t even imagine how your daughter would react if she found out.] [This is terrifying. You’re a psychopath.] [Having you as parents is a literal curse.] He ignored all the criticism and only liked the comments praising him. Someone even asked him for advice: [I think this is a great idea, but I don’t know how to act like a teenager chatting with my kid. The generational gap is huge, I feel like they’d catch on.] The poster replied smugly: [It’s easy. Download an AI chatbot app. Whatever she sends you, just copy and paste it into the AI, and use whatever response it gives you.] I closed my eyes. So, all that deep understanding, that perfect harmony and empathy… that was where it came from? Fake. It was all completely fake. I bit down hard on my knuckle, unable to suppress a choked sob. The beautiful romance I thought I had found… behind it was something so horrifyingly, unspeakably ugly. 7 Because I hadn’t replied, Ethan sent a barrage of messages. I didn’t move. I leaned against the corner of my bed, listening quietly to the sound of pacing footsteps in the living room. It sounded frantic. After a while, the footsteps slowly approached my door. “Mia, can Mom come in and bring you some fruit?” The tone of her voice held absolutely zero intention of asking for permission. The moment the words left her mouth, the door was already being pushed open. I squeezed my eyes shut, pretending to be fast asleep. My phone was tossed far away on my desk. I heard her whisper: “She’s asleep. No wonder she didn’t text back.” They quietly turned off the lights and backed out of the room. In the darkness, I opened my eyes, letting the tears fall silently down my cheeks. My phone, which had been buzzing with notifications every few minutes, instantly went dead silent. I had already asked a senior friend to look into it for me. At that local university, in that specific major, there was absolutely no one named Ethan. It was just another cage they had meticulously designed for me, pre-selecting my college and my major. 8 I created a burner account and left a comment under his post: [You guys really are dedicated parents.] Amidst a sea of insults, my compliment stood out. He seemed to think he had found a kindred spirit, and replied quickly: [Exactly! We parents break our backs worrying about her. This kid never talks to us about anything, we just wanted to understand her better.] Someone asked him: [I get your starting point, but I just don’t understand why you had to become her romantic partner? Wouldn’t playing an older sibling/mentor figure have worked? If she finds out, it’s going to cause severe psychological trauma.] He didn’t reply. In fact, because that comment started getting a ton of upvotes, he deleted it entirely. I let out a cold scoff. Swallowing my nausea, I praised him a few more times. Then, I sent him a direct message: [My kid’s situation is pretty similar. Please, I need advice.] Within minutes, he replied. [No problem! My kid is a total success story. I’m telling you, just follow my lead and it’ll work.] I pretended to be a frustrated parent, flattering him while asking for advice. Then, I screenshotted and screen-recorded every single message he sent me. He proudly detailed every single step of his deranged plan. [Just search online for compliments girls like to hear. Add a little bit of flirting to build the emotional connection. My daughter eats that stuff up.] As he spoke, he sent me a few screenshots. It was exactly the same messages he had sent me as Ethan. I took a deep breath. [Isn’t that a bit inappropriate? As a parent, saying those things to my kid… I feel like I wouldn’t be able to say it. It feels too weird.] He sent a ‘laughing behind his hand’ emoji. [It’s fine, bro. Haven’t you heard the saying? A daughter is her father’s lover from a past life. As fathers, we’re basically giving them some early dating experience so they don’t get tricked by toxic guys later.] I stared at those words, feeling something deep inside me completely shatter. What about my mom? Did she feel the same way?

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I was on FaceTime with my brother late at night. Suddenly, he said he had to take care of something and left his phone on the desk. I went to grab a glass of water. When I came back, I noticed the video call was still connected and was just about to hang up. Suddenly, a deep, magnetic voice came through the speaker, carrying a hint of breathless exhaustion. “Stop kissing.” ?!? That voice… It was Ethan Wilder. The guy I’d been secretly crushing on for three whole months. Then, I heard Ethan’s voice get even closer. “I said, stop kissing.” My brother let out a low chuckle. “Can’t help it. It’s been too long.” My brother… and Ethan Wilder? Alright then. That night, with tears in my eyes, I changed Ethan’s contact name in my phone to “Future Brother-in-Law.” You can’t exactly sabotage your own brother’s romance. 1 When my brother had first FaceTimed me, I was staring blankly at the three new photos Ethan had just posted on his Instagram. “What are you doing? You look totally spaced out,” my brother, Austin, said, loudly crunching on an apple on his end. “Nothing,” I said listlessly. “I just feel like some people are born to live up in the clouds.” “Spring fever hitting you early?” “Screw off.” We chatted aimlessly for about half an hour. He mentioned he had to go down and grab a DoorDash delivery and tossed his phone onto his desk. The camera was pointing straight up at the ceiling. I was just about to hit the red ‘end call’ button when I heard his dorm room door open. Then, footsteps. Next, a deep, husky voice drifted into my ears, carrying a helpless, amused tone: “Alright, stop kissing.” My entire body went rigid. I knew that voice far too well; it was my crush, Ethan Wilder. The video feed stuttered for a second before focusing on Ethan’s shirtless upper half. Water droplets were sliding down the sharp, defined lines of his abs. I stared at the screen, my finger hovering over the end call button, but I physically couldn’t press it. He was towel-drying his hair. A stray drop of water rolled past his Adam’s apple. He suddenly raised his eyes and looked directly toward the camera. I held my breath. “Austin,” “Your camera is still on.” The air froze for three agonizing seconds. Austin’s panicked face suddenly filled the screen, his eyes wide with horror: “Holy shit! Chloe, you’re still there?!” Austin frantically fumbled with the phone. The image blurred wildly before finally going pitch black. Call Ended. I sat paralyzed on my bed, my phone slipping from my hand. Only one word echoed in my brain: Ruined. My phone screen lit up again. It was a text from Austin: [Bad connection just now. Let’s talk another day.] I stared at the message, my fingers hovering over the keyboard, having absolutely no idea what to reply. Finally, I just sent back an “OK” hand emoji. 2 “Chloe, are you alright?” my roommate, Sarah, poked her head over from her desk. “I’m going through a breakup,” I mumbled, burying my face in my knees. “It ended before it even started.” “What’s going on?” my other roommate, Madison, pulled off her headphones. I shook my head, unable to speak. My mind was playing that snippet on an infinite loop: Ethan’s deep voice, Austin’s panicked expression, and that familiar, long-fingered hand. Suddenly, everything made perfect sense. Why Ethan had given me such a subtle, weird look the very first time we met. Why Austin always claimed his roommate was an “insanely busy guy” and never let me visit his dorm. Why Austin always looked like he was biting his tongue whenever I brought up Ethan’s name. Three days. I lay in bed for three whole days. Other than going to class, I just stared at the ceiling in a daze. I deleted every single photo of Ethan from my phone’s camera roll, only to sneakily recover them all from my iCloud trash later. 3 The very first time I saw Ethan was on Austin’s Twitch stream. He was wearing a gaming headset, his side profile facing the camera. His fingers were flying across the mechanical keyboard, his character racking up kill streaks on the screen. “This is my roommate, Ethan,” Austin introduced him, casually leaning back in his chair. “Student Body President and Varsity Basketball Captain. Handsome, right?” Ethan turned his head and gave the camera a brief, polite nod. In that exact second, I clutched my iPad and literally rolled across my bed. “Who are you getting so hyped over?” my best friend, Lily, peeked over from her side of the room. I turned the screen toward her. “Damn,” Lily squinted. “That’s your brother’s friend? Is he single?” “I don’t know.” “Well, what are you waiting for? Get his Snapchat!” I retreated to my bunk and opened my text thread with Austin. I typed and deleted, deleted and typed. Finally, I sent: [Hey Austin, about your roommate…] Austin instantly replied with Ethan’s contact card. After I added him, my chat history for the first three months was entirely composed of academic questions I had frantically brainstormed just to have an excuse to talk to him. “Hey Ethan, how do you solve this coding problem?” “Hey Ethan, do you know how to use this statistical software?” He always replied with incredible patience. Looking back now, he was probably only doing it out of courtesy to my brother. 4 One weekend, I used the excuse of delivering a batch of our mom’s famous homemade lasagna to Austin’s apartment, secretly planning to gather some firsthand intel. Ethan opened the door. He was wearing a loose grey t-shirt, his hair slightly damp. He was even better-looking in person than on video. “Is Austin here?” I asked, trying to keep my eyes looking straight ahead. “He’s in the shower. Come on in,” Ethan said, stepping aside. Hearing the water running in the bathroom, I sat anxiously on the sofa and placed the container on the table: “This is for… you guys.” “Thanks.” Ethan smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Damn it. Why was my brother so lucky? “Do you two… get along well?” I couldn’t help but ask. Ethan paused. “Hmm?” “Austin can be careless. Don’t let it bother you.” “If he ever bullies you, tell me.” Just then, Austin walked out, drying his hair with a towel. “What are you doing here?” “Dropping off Mom’s lasagna.” “I won’t interrupt you two anymore. I’m leaving,” I said, flashing them both a quick “I totally get it” look before bolting. I had to. For my brother’s happiness. My secret crush was buried alive by an unexpected, accidental revelation before it ever saw the light of day. But that was okay. At least all that handsome goodness was staying in the family. I sniffled. From that day on, I switched from “Crush Mode” to “Fiercely Protective Sister-in-Law Mode.” 5 The weather was crisp and clear on the day of the university’s Fall Festival. As Student Body President, Ethan arrived at the event plaza early. Austin had something else to take care of, so he asked me to go down and help out first. Alumni forums, academic showcases, club fairs… I diligently played the role of tour guide, explaining layouts and handing out water bottles. Suddenly, an incredibly gorgeous girl—probably the queen bee of some sorority—walked right up to Ethan with a dazzling smile, her phone out with her Snapchat QR code ready. I moved fast, wedging myself right between them. “I am so sorry, but Ethan is incredibly busy right now! If you have any specific student union questions, you can shoot an email to the public affairs inbox!” The girl froze, looked at me, then looked at Ethan’s expressionless face. Her face turned a mix of red and white before she awkwardly walked away. I breathed a sigh of relief. When I turned around, I found him looking down at me. “You…” He opened his mouth, then stopped. “What is it, Ethan?” I blinked, the picture of innocent naivety. “I was just helping you out! In a setting like this, it’s not convenient to go around adding random people, right?” I said with hidden meaning. I thought to myself: My brother might have a big heart, but I’m going to make sure to weed out all these wandering flowers trying to get near his ‘wife.’ Ethan gave me a long, deep look. He didn’t say anything else, just gave a nearly imperceptible shake of his head and turned to walk forward. Late that afternoon, Austin finally showed up and found us backstage at the auditorium. The moment he arrived, he threw his arm around Ethan’s shoulders, giving him a hard pat. “My bad, man. Got held up over there. My sister wasn’t annoying you, was she?” Ethan swayed slightly from the slap and gave him a cool glance: “No.” “Awesome!” Austin laughed boisterously. I watched them standing there, arms slung over each other’s shoulders. One was pure, golden-retriever sunshine, the other was cool and reserved. Honestly… they really did look good together. That little pang of sourness bubbled up in my heart again. I quickly forced it down and flashed a bright smile: “Of course I wasn’t! Austin, are you hungry? Let’s go eat! I know this new Bar & Grill just off-campus, the food is amazing!” 6 Austin loved insanely spicy food, while Ethan seemed to prefer milder flavors. I grabbed the menu and ordered a massive plate of atomic buffalo wings for Austin, but I specifically pushed the mild garlic parmesan wings and a grilled chicken salad toward Ethan. “Ethan, you should try this salad. It’s really good and not greasy at all.” Austin reached his fork out to grab a mild wing. I kicked him hard under the table, glaring at him and mouthing the words: “Give. Him. Some. Food!” Austin looked utterly confused, but he still grabbed a piece of grilled chicken and dropped it onto Ethan’s plate: “Here man, eat up.” Ethan stared at the chicken that had suddenly appeared on his plate. He paused, then looked up, his gaze shifting back and forth between me and Austin. “Thanks.” I breathed a sigh of relief, mentally giving myself a pat on the back. During dinner, Austin talked about the funny things happening in his engineering projects. Ethan occasionally added a word or two, and the atmosphere seemed pretty good. I ate my fries while secretly observing them. Ethan didn’t talk much, but he was incredibly focused when Austin was speaking. When Austin got excited and started gesturing wildly, Ethan just tilted his head slightly, a very faint, fond smile playing on his lips. See? What perfect harmony. The fire in my heart to “protect my brother’s romance” burned even brighter. I even started plotting. Should I find a moment to subtly tell Austin to be a bit more attentive and public about his affection? Ethan was so amazing; there were definitely a ton of people eyeing him. After dinner, it was completely dark. The festival’s evening gala was about to start in the main auditorium. We followed the massive crowd, shoulder to shoulder. A guy was walking backward while talking on his phone, and it looked like he was about to crash right into Ethan, who was looking down at a text. “Watch out!” I didn’t even think. I stepped sideways, placing myself right in front of him. The guy collided hard with my shoulder. The impact sent me stumbling backward. The pain of hitting the ground I expected never came. A firm hand caught me squarely by the lower back. A crisp, clean scent instantly enveloped me. It was the distinct, refreshing smell of Ethan—like sunshine and cold spring water. My spine went rigid. In that moment, my heartbeat completely lost control, hammering frantically against my ribs. “You okay?” His voice sounded from right above me, his breath brushing past my hair. “I-I-I’m fine!” I bounced away like I’d been electrocuted. My face felt like it was on fire, and I didn’t dare look up at him. “Watch where you’re going,” Ethan said to the guy who was apologizing profusely. His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried an undeniable, chilling authority. The guy hurried away. Ethan’s gaze returned to me. He paused. “You don’t need to block for me next time.” “I-I was afraid he’d hit you…” I argued weakly in a small voice, my heart still racing. He didn’t say anything, just gave me another look. Under the sweeping event lights, his expression was unreadable. Austin walked over and threw an arm around me: “Look at you, Chloe! Already knowing how to protect your buddy Ethan! I raised you well!” I let out a few dry, awkward laughs, used the excuse of needing the restroom, and practically fled the scene. I splashed freezing water on my face to bring down the heat. Looking at my flushed cheeks and panicked eyes in the mirror, I squeezed my eyes shut fiercely. Chloe Miller, get a grip. That is your ‘Sister-in-Law.’ Just now was an accident. Your job is to protect them, not to swoon. The gala was amazing—bands, comedy sketches, alumni interviews… but I couldn’t focus on any of it. Ethan was sitting diagonally in front of me, two seats away. In the dim light, I could only see his sharp profile and his long eyelashes whenever the stage lights swept past him. He was wearing a grey button-down shirt. Under the occasional flash of light, the fabric had a soft, pearl-like sheen. I suddenly remembered Austin had a shirt in almost the exact same color… My brain uncontrollably replayed the moment he caught me earlier. The temperature of his palm, pressing against my waist through the fabric, was terrifyingly vivid. I pinched my own thigh hard. Stop thinking about it. During the second half of the event, there was an interactive segment. The host suddenly called out Ethan, who was sitting in the front row, to come up on stage and share his experience as an outstanding student leader. The spotlight hit him. He stood tall and straight, his features clean and striking. A wave of suppressed gasps and whispers instantly rippled through the audience. He took the microphone. His voice, amplified by the speakers, sounded even more grounded and magnetic than usual. His logic was sharp, every word impactful. The crowd erupted in thunderous applause. The excitement from the girls in the room could have lifted the roof. I looked at the radiant guy on stage, feeling both proud and incredibly sour. Look at how amazing my “Sister-in-Law” is. My brother seriously… how did he get so lucky? 7 I kept myself busy with this mindset for a whole week. On the weekend, my mom asked me to come home for dinner. When I opened the front door, I was stunned. Ethan Wilder was sitting right there in my living room. My brain scrambled. They were already at the “meet the parents” stage?! During dinner, I intentionally left the seat next to Austin empty and squeezed myself onto the far end of the dining table. “Chloe, why are you sitting all the way over there?” my mom asked, looking at me weirdly, since I usually loved sticking close to my brother. “There’s better ventilation here,” I said with a straight face. For the entire meal, I acted like a dedicated fan club president for their ship: “Austin, this garlic shrimp is amazing. You should try it.” “Austin, don’t just eat by yourself. Put some food on Ethan’s plate.” “Austin, Ethan seems to like this soup. Serve him another bowl.” Austin finally noticed something was wrong. He kicked me under the table: “Chloe Miller, did you take the wrong medication today?” Ethan set down his fork, his gaze lingering on my face for a moment: “I’m going to use the restroom.” After he left the table, Austin leaned in and lowered his voice: “What is your problem? Why are you sucking up to Ethan so hard?” “Austin,” I looked at him seriously. “I will support you guys. Forever.” Austin looked completely bewildered. I was so frustrated by his cluelessness. This guy. Why wasn’t he putting more effort into his own partner? With a “Sister-in-Law” as amazing as Ethan, my brother really hit the jackpot. 8 That night, my mom warmly insisted Ethan stay over. I lay in bed, tossing and turning. Finally, I accepted my fate and got up, wanting to go to the kitchen for a glass of water. As I passed the guest room, a faint sliver of light peeked out from under the door. He wasn’t asleep yet? Driven by some ghostly impulse, I leaned close, wanting to hear what was going on inside. Just as I pressed my ear against the wood— Click. The door opened. Caught completely off guard, I lunged forward. What welcomed me wasn’t the cold, hard floor, but a warm, slightly damp, solid chest. The fresh scent of body wash instantly enveloped me. I froze, slowly tilting my head up. Ethan stood in the doorway. His hair was half-wet, falling messily over his forehead, water still dripping from the ends. He only had a towel wrapped around his waist; his upper body was completely bare. Water droplets slid down his defined collarbones, tracing the tight muscles of his chest and his sculpted, washboard abs, before disappearing into the edge of the towel. The hallway light cast a soft glow over him. The fluid lines of his muscles held a silent, incredibly impactful aesthetic power. My brain completely crashed. My eyes went wide, and I forgot how to breathe. He seemed surprised for a second too. Then, in those usually calm, unreadable eyes, a hint of a teasing, knowing amusement appeared. “Chloe,” he spoke, his voice slightly low and husky from the steam. “What are you… doing out here?” “I-I-I-I…” my tongue was tied. My eyes had nowhere to look, darting around frantically, but inevitably snapping back to his body, only to bounce away again as if I’d been burned. “I came to return your phone! You… you left your phone on the living room sofa! I brought it to you!” 9 Right! The phone! I was actually holding his phone in my hand! Like I was holding a burning coal, I quickly shoved the phone into his hand, which was hanging loosely by his side. Our fingertips brushed. The cool water droplets on his skin rubbed onto me, sending a jolt of electricity straight to my fingertips. “I’m leaving! Goodnight!” I tried to run. “Wait.” He stopped me. My back stiffened. “You’re not even going to turn around?” The amusement in his voice was even more obvious now. “Were you planning to watch me change?” “!!!” With lightning speed, I whipped around, facing away from him, and clamped my hands tightly over my eyes. “I didn’t see anything! I’m leaving!” I had barely taken a single step when the sound of flip-flops shuffling down the hall reached my ears, followed by Austin’s voice: “Ethan! Have you seen my AirPods? Did I accidentally pack them in your bag—” My soul left my body! In the dead of night, wearing my pajamas, standing outside the door of a half-naked Ethan Wilder—even jumping into the Mississippi River wouldn’t wash me clean of this scene! If Austin saw me, what if he misunderstood?! What if it affected their relationship?! Just as Austin’s footsteps were about to round the corner, a warm, strong hand suddenly grabbed my wrist and yanked me backward! The world spun. I was pulled into the guest room, and the door clicked shut gently behind me. The next second, his arm wrapped around me, guiding me toward the desk. Then, without a word of explanation, he pressed me into the narrow gap between the desk and the wall. The space was too small. I was practically engulfed in his embrace. His chest was pressed against my back. Through my thin pajama shirt, I could feel his body temperature—slightly higher than mine—and the steady, powerful beating of his heart. The clean scent of his body wash, mixed with his own unique, refreshing aura, aggressively hijacked all my senses. He leaned one hand against the wall by my ear, while his other hand gently ruffled the top of my head. “Shh.” His lowered voice sounded right next to my ear, his breath brushing against my skin, sending a wave of tiny, electric shivers down my spine. I was as stiff as a board. My heart was hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs, feeling like it was going to burst out of my chest. My cheeks were definitely burning right now. I must be flushed red enough to stop traffic. Outside the door, Austin’s footsteps stopped. He knocked on the door: “Ethan? You asleep?” 10 “Just finished a shower. What’s up?” Ethan’s voice returned to its usual steady calm. “I can’t find my AirPods. Did they get mixed up in your bag again?” “…Give me a second.” He replied, then lowered his head to whisper in my ear again. “Don’t make a sound.” I bit my lower lip hard and nodded. Only then did he release me slightly, turning to rummage through his bag on the floor. I curled up in the shadows, keeping my breathing as shallow as possible. Soon, he found the AirPods, walked over to the door, opened it just a crack, and handed them out. “Thanks, man!” Austin’s voice faded down the hall. The door shut and locked again. The soft click was exceptionally loud in the silent room. My tightly wound nerves instantly snapped. My legs went weak, and I almost collapsed onto the floor. Ethan turned around, leaned against the edge of the desk, and leisurely watched my traumatized, panic-stricken state. “Scared?” I shook my head, then nodded, my voice still a bit floaty: “Did Austin… did he see? He won’t misunderstand, will he?” “Misunderstand what?” He raised an eyebrow. “Misunderstand me… and you…” I couldn’t bring myself to say it. Even though I liked him, he was my “Sister-in-Law” now. Ethan looked at me for a few seconds, then suddenly chuckled. It sounded a bit helpless, and a little something else. “Relax, he didn’t see.” “That’s good, that’s good.” I patted my chest to calm myself down. Only then did the realization hit me: we were currently in an incredibly intimate posture and space. He was shirtless, I was in my pajamas, it was late at night, in a closed room… Heat rushed to my face again. I frantically tried to squeeze my way out from between him and the wall. “T-then I won’t disturb your rest anymore. I’m going to head back…” “What’s the rush?” He didn’t step aside. Instead, he leaned in closer, his gaze locking onto my flickering, evasive eyes. “Chloe, you’ve been acting very strange tonight.” “No I haven’t!” I denied it immediately, but my voice lacked any real conviction. “Starting from dinner,” he stated, his finger unconsciously twirling a loose strand of my hair around and around. It tickled. “Giving me food, serving me soup, asking me all sorts of questions…” “That was me… playing the good host! Plus, you’re a guest right now, and you’re my brother’s… his…” I stumbled over the words. “Your brother’s what?” He pressed, his eyes narrowing slightly. “His best friend!” I said decisively. Ethan didn’t say anything. He just looked at me, his gaze deep and penetrating. Just as I was about to crack under the pressure, ready to confess that I had overheard their video call and filled in the blanks with my own imagination, he suddenly changed the subject. “If you like someone, how do you think… you should pursue them?” 11 My head snapped up, my eyes crashing into his. The teasing and scrutiny from a moment ago were gone, replaced by a trace of… rare hesitation and… shyness? Why was he asking me this? Was he… asking for advice on how to pursue my brother? The empty space in my chest started leaking cold air again. It felt cold and painful. But I, Chloe Miller, am a professional when it comes to being a supportive wing-woman! I forced what I hoped was a dazzling smile, even leaning a little closer to him. Lowering my voice, I put on the air of a tactical mastermind: “Well, it depends on the person. Different people require different approaches.” I paused, observing his expression. He was listening intently. “Uh, I’d say… being direct is best!” “How direct?” He followed up, his voice softening. In this small, quiet space, it sounded exceptionally clear, carrying a hint of coaxing persuasion. “Clean and decisive. Just go for it!” I made a fist, giving him a “trust me” look. “Be specific.” “Like… create opportunities. Physical contact. Make eye contact, spark that chemistry. And then… find the right moment, and just go in for a kiss!” The more I spoke, the quieter my voice got, and the hotter my face burned. Here I was, coaching my crush on how to forcefully kiss my own brother? What kind of twisted reality was this?! Ethan fell silent, his expression difficult to describe. “What if… the other person resists?” “Then you have to use your natural advantages to your benefit!” Frustrated by his lack of confidence, I instinctively reached up and ruffled his slightly damp hair. “Like you, Ethan. Being this handsome is your biggest advantage! Give a little smile, act a little cute—who could possibly resist that?” The moment the words left my mouth, both he and I froze. I finally realized what I had just done, my hand stiffening in his hair. He slowly raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth curving upward. “Really… would that work?” he asked, his voice dropping incredibly low, his eyes locked onto mine. Under that intense gaze, I felt flustered. Plus, it wasn’t like I had any actual combat experience with this question either. I braced myself, nodded emphatically, and cheered him on: “Of course it will! You have to be confident! You’re Ethan Wilder!” He looked at me, and suddenly, he started to laugh softly. The laughter rumbled from deep within his throat, vibrating in his chest. It was musical and… inexplicably seductive. “Okay.” His gaze dropped to my lips, lingering for a split second before moving away. “I’ll remember that.” “Thanks, Chloe.” I awkwardly looked away and took a deep breath. Everything for my brother’s happiness. 12 The next day, I bumped into them in the dining hall. Ethan was holding a tray. Austin was walking right behind him, casually picking a carrot off Ethan’s plate. Ethan didn’t stop him; he just shook his head slightly. That level of familiar intimacy stung my eyes. “Chloe?” Ethan saw me first. I forced a smile and walked over to them. “Hey, Brother-in-Law!” The air froze. Austin dropped his fork onto the floor. “What did you just call me?” Ethan narrowed his eyes. “Brother-in-law!” I threw caution to the wind and patted my chest. “Don’t worry, my lips are sealed! If Austin ever bullies you in the future, I’ll help you beat him up!” Austin looked like he wanted to say something, but Ethan just laughed. “Chloe,” his voice dropped very low. “I think you’ve misunderstood something.” “No misunderstanding! No misunderstanding at all!” I backed up rapidly. “I get it! True love transcends gender!” With that, I turned and bolted like a deserter. I couldn’t sleep the entire night. At 4:00 AM, I sent Austin a text: “So, are you a top or a bottom?” Austin replied instantly: “???” “Someone like Ethan has to be a top, right?” I sent another text. The chat interface showed “Typing…” for three solid minutes. Finally, a voice memo came through. I tapped it, and Austin’s teeth-grinding voice blasted out: “Chloe Miller, what kind of garbage is floating around in that head of yours?!” Then, he called me directly: “Chloe Miller! What the hell are you doing?!” “I’m trying to help you!” I felt incredibly wronged. “I’m literally heartbroken, and I’m still trying to help you, and you’re yelling at me!” “Heartbroken from what? When did you even get a boyfriend?” “It was a crush!” I yelled back, frustrated tears spilling down my cheeks. “It’s gone now. I already gave Ethan up for you, and you’re still yelling at me…” He froze. His expression went from furious to stunned, and finally settled on incredibly bizarre. “You had a crush on Ethan?” “Past tense!” I wiped my face. “He’s my brother-in-law now. I’ll keep my distance, don’t worry.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “426728”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

It was our fifth year together when Ian and I had another explosive fight. He grabbed his keys, stormed out the door, and chose the cold shoulder once again. I sat quietly on the sofa. After stewing for half the day, I started scrolling through TikTok, giggling at the videos. At 2:00 AM, my phone ringing woke me up. Ian’s voice on the other end was cold enough to freeze water. “I’ve been outside until now, and you couldn’t even bother to call me once?” I awkwardly remembered he was still wandering out there in the freezing snow. Feeling a bit embarrassed, I said, “Uh, well… how about you just don’t come back? Let’s just call it quits?” 1 After I said that, a brief silence fell over the phone. Then, with a sharp click, he hung up. My eyes were so heavy I could barely keep them open. I rolled over in my warm bed and fell comfortably back to sleep. When I woke up the next morning, I heard a rustling noise in the living room. I went out to look. It was Ian, packing his bags. He acted like I was invisible, keeping his head down and blindly shoving his stuff into a suitcase. I frowned and stood there watching him for a while, just to make sure he didn’t accidentally take any of my things. He finally finished packing, zipped up the suitcase, and said flatly: “You need to cool off. Let’s not talk for a while.” Those words sounded familiar. Something similar had happened last year. After a massive fight, he grabbed his keys to leave. I had broken down, grabbing onto him. “Why does it have to be like this again? Why do you always leave me alone? Can’t we just talk it out face-to-face? Why do you always run away!” He stopped trying to leave the apartment but turned back and locked himself in the bedroom. Just as my emotions started to settle down, I saw him walking out with a suitcase. His voice was detached and calm, a complete contrast to my hysteria. “You need a few days to cool off. We’ll talk in a while.” After that, he really didn’t contact me for over two weeks. Every message I sent, every call I made, sank like a stone in the ocean. Zero response. I was losing my mind back then. I cried myself to sleep every night, and eventually, I was the one who broke down and sent texts begging for his forgiveness. Once it happens, it happens again. Ian realized the silent treatment worked like a charm on me. He didn’t even have to put in effort to fix things—I would fix myself. So, he started using it constantly. From my initial desperate need for a response, I slowly learned to digest it all on my own. Only I knew how agonizing that transition was. Now, he was standing in front of me with his suitcase again. His expression was blank, completely devoid of emotion. He even offered some generous advice: “Don’t overthink this. Eat well, focus on work. You do have a life outside of clinging to me, right?” I rubbed my sleepy eyes and casually replied, “Yeah. Drive safe.” Ian’s aloof expression stiffened slightly. He clearly hadn’t expected me to not even try to stop him. I took two steps toward the bathroom, remembered something, and turned back to remind him: “Did you pack your summer clothes too? If you can fit them, you should take them all today. Save yourself a trip later.” His face turned dark. He didn’t say a word, just slammed the door shut and left. My chest suddenly felt incredibly light. It was finally over. 2 Today was Saturday. I used to always beg Ian to spend the weekends with me. Later, Ian figured out the perfect way to deal with me. The second we argued, he’d grab his bags and leave. And he’d be gone for at least half a month. I was forced to get used to spending weekend after weekend alone. It only took a year for me to transition from writing paragraphs of hysterical texts, to feeling numb and detached, and finally, back to enjoying my weekends like I did when I was single. I made myself a hot bowl of chicken noodle soup. After eating, I curled up on the couch with my cat and put on a horror movie. Outside, the sky was gloomy, and a cold winter rain was falling. I had the heater on, enjoying the cozy solitude. After the movie ended, I made a hot cup of tea and casually scrolled through Instagram. The very first post was from Ian. [Traveling for business with Ms. Sterling.] The photo was a selfie of him and Sarah at the airport, her arm slung casually over his shoulder. Sarah was his college classmate and business partner. They were very close. Every time Ian and I had a “Cold War,” they always ended up going on a long business trip together, just the two of them. The first time I found out, it ate me alive for a long time. I wasn’t sure if their relationship was purely professional, or if there was something more. Until the second Cold War, and the third. Without fail, Ian would drag Sarah out of state for “work,” leaving me alone in the apartment. I started obsessively calling and texting Ian, demanding to know what the hell he was doing. Why did he always go on a business trip the second we fought, and why was Sarah always with him? He usually took an assistant on business trips, but when he went with Sarah, they didn’t even bring one. Three days later, Ian sent a cold, brief reply: [Think whatever you want.] Then he went radio silent again. Not a single word after that. I knew right then that there was no point in continuing the relationship. Wiping my tears, my hands shaking, I typed out a few words: [Then let’s break up.] I locked my phone immediately to stop myself from going crazy and making a fool of myself. I buried myself in work to distract myself. A few minutes later, my phone buzzed. I couldn’t even last three minutes before picking it up to check. It was a message in my work group chat. It was a push notification from an app. It was an automated birthday text from my bank. It wasn’t until 9:00 PM that a message with Ian’s name finally popped up. Two short, cold words. [Suit yourself.] I completely broke down, burying my face in my pillow and sobbing. While crying, I sent him a barrage of messages accusing him of never loving me. I listed out every single disappointment and instance of neglect I felt in our relationship, hoping to trigger even an ounce of guilt, hoping to make him realize he was a terrible boyfriend. But everything sank like a stone in the ocean, just like always. It was as if no one was on the other side. Or rather, he couldn’t even be bothered to read a single sentence. Looking at his Instagram stories, there were pictures of him and Sarah out to dinner with clients. It was a joyful scene, everyone laughing happily. It felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over my head. I clearly saw myself as a clown—jumping up and down, making a fool of myself, trying so hard. My rational mind told me very clearly that he was a piece of trash. I finally stopped sending messages. But my life became a blur. I forced myself to act normal around other people, but everything felt mechanical and numb. It was only when I dragged my exhausted body back to my empty apartment that I couldn’t stop myself from crouching on the floor and crying. I knew he was probably a horrible person. But I missed him so much. I knew I was useless and fragile, but just pretending to be a normal person exhausted all my energy. I let myself suffer in the dark, agonizing over him. I didn’t know when it would ever end. Until thirty-six days later, when he finally contacted me again. [Have you cooled down?] [Do you still want to break up?] I stared numbly at the message. It was a message that came too late. It couldn’t spark any anticipation or excitement in me anymore. I slowly typed out three words: [Whatever you want.] He sent a voice memo. “I got you a birthday present. I’m heading back now.” His voice was upbeat, carrying a smile, and I could hear a woman laughing next to him. That laugh was distinct. It was Sarah’s laugh. Even through the phone screen, I could picture the two of them stepping off the plane, looking tired from the travel but full of life and confidence. Not like me. Like a dirty, trapped animal pacing in a cage. All my pain and torment hadn’t affected Ian in the slightest. Everything I felt in this relationship was supposedly just me being overly sensitive, paranoid, and dramatic. While Ian was the magnanimous, stable one who put up with me. 3 My thoughts snapped back to the Instagram post in front of me. There were already several comments underneath. A: [You guys look great together, Mr. CEO.] B: [Nonsense, Sarah’s got both brains and beauty!] Ian: [Good eye.] C: [Out of town for a month? Leaving the missus home alone again, how are you gonna sweet-talk your way out of that one? #DogDoge] Ian: [We’re adults. Does she expect me to babysit her 24/7?] C: [True that, can’t spoil women too much.] Amidst all the nonsense, a glaring comment suddenly appeared. Chloe: [Girlfriends don’t need company, but female partners definitely need to tag along on every trip~] The “~” was practically dripping with sarcasm. Chloe was the girlfriend of Josh, the other male partner at Ian’s firm. I heard they were supposed to get married this year, but it was almost the end of the year and there was still no news. Her boyfriend, Josh, went on solo business trips with Sarah just as often as Ian did. Rumor had it that when Chloe’s mom was hospitalized and she was running herself ragged taking care of her alone, Sarah posted a cheek-to-cheek selfie with Josh under the Eiffel Tower. They said it was a business trip, but anyone else would have thought they were on a honeymoon. Chloe threw a massive fit over it. Even though they made up, their relationship was never the same, and marriage hasn’t been brought up since. When her comment popped up, the previously lively comment section seemed to hit pause. There were no new comments for a while. Just as I was about to scroll past, a new reply appeared. Sarah: [Little girls shouldn’t be so dramatic. Is business more important, or your petty little romance?] Sarah: [If you want to marry rich and get a free ride, just be a good little trophy wife. Don’t make a fool of yourself.] Chloe replied instantly. [Compared to certain people who can’t even take an assistant on a business trip and absolutely need a male partner to chaperone them every single time, I’m plenty independent at my own job. Who exactly is the trophy wife here?] It took ten minutes for Sarah to reply with three words. [You have no idea.] Ever since Chloe found out Josh was constantly traveling alone with Sarah, she and Sarah hadn’t gotten along. She took shots at her whenever she could, and even I was used to it. I closed Instagram and was about to make dinner when my landlord called. “Hey Avery, your lease is up next month. Are you planning on renewing?” I looked around the apartment. A spacious, bright penthouse. Out the window was the most bustling night view in the city. Back then, Ian kept telling me to move into his place. But I was always worried about living in someone else’s house and the risk of being kicked out, so I stubbornly insisted on living alone. He was very clingy back then. The next day, he stood outside my door with his suitcase, looking like a lost puppy. I had just entered the workforce and didn’t have much money. I was living paycheck to paycheck in a tiny 300-square-foot studio, way out in the suburbs. I knew Ian was used to a nice lifestyle. Making him live with me in that tiny apartment felt like I was wronging him. So, the moment I passed my probation period and got a raise, I bit the bullet and moved here. It ate up almost half my paycheck every month. “No, I won’t be staying,” I told the landlord. “I’m planning to move to the East Side.” It was closer to my office. And I wouldn’t have to leave the house at 6 AM every day to catch the subway. The landlord was surprised. “What’s wrong? Didn’t you say you liked this area because it was close to your boyfriend’s office?” “Yeah,” I replied softly, kicking at my slippers with my head down, and smiled. “We broke up.” The landlord was very sympathetic. After comforting me for a bit, she kindly recommended a moving company before hanging up. 4 My company was preparing to host a live-stream event at a mall recently. I took my new junior colleagues to coordinate at the mall. The juniors were two recent college grads, bursting with energy and enthusiasm. They even made us office veterans feel a bit more energetic. After wrapping up the setup that day, the two of them insisted on dragging me to a Korean BBQ spot, saying we needed to relax after working so hard. At the outdoor BBQ stand, I took a picture of the table packed with skewers under the warm, dim streetlights. The two guys leaned their heads into the frame, smiling brightly. I snapped the photo and happily posted it on Instagram: [Setup complete! I can finally have a real weekend tomorrow!] By the time I got home, it was past midnight. A message from Ian, which I hadn’t seen in a long time, popped up on my phone. He had sent a picture of himself having dinner with a client, almost like he was reporting in: [Heading back in a week.] [Got you a present.] I pretended I didn’t see it, sanitized my phone, plugged it in, and put it on the nightstand. Back when I first started getting the silent treatment, I would panic and send him messages like crazy, begging for even the slightest response. Later, I forced myself to try and get used to single life every time he left. I slowly stopped sending him messages. He, in turn, softened his Cold War strategy. He wasn’t as completely silent anymore. He went from sending one message a month, to calling every half a month, to once a week, to once every three days. What a blessing. A blessing anyone else could gladly take. After taking a shower and getting into bed, I saw Ian had sent a few more messages. [What did you do today?] [Tired from work?] [Asleep?] I muted his notifications. I didn’t delete him, didn’t block him, and didn’t reply. I was doing just fine without him. 5 There were still over twenty days left on my lease. I started packing my things early. Packing a little bit every day made it pretty easy. When Ian’s mother came over, she saw my apartment filled with cardboard boxes of all sizes. I had opened the door thinking it was my Uber Eats, completely off guard, and she barged right in. She was carrying a thermal lunchbox and kicked a cardboard box blocking the hallway with her pointed heels. Her voice was as overly familiar as ever. “Oh, Avery dear. Ian is out of town on a business trip. Did you two get into a fight about something? He’s so distracted at work now. He asked me to come check on you.” As she spoke, she walked straight into the apartment, sat down on the sofa, crossed her legs, and acted like she owned the place: “Ian specifically asked me to bring you food. I told him he’s being ridiculous. You’re twenty-six or twenty-seven, not a toddler. Do you really need someone to watch you eat?” I took a deep breath, turned around, and was about to speak when she suddenly looked around the room, frowning: “Ian always tells me how clean you are, but look at this place. How can a girl let her apartment get this messy? “Even though our Ian makes good money and won’t have a problem hiring a maid in the future, you shouldn’t be this sloppy, right?” My face darkened. Ian was a local, born and raised in the city. The exclusivity of the locals here was an open secret. Ian’s mother was the stereotypical local matriarch. She always assumed that any girl from out of town was scheming for her son’s money and a city residency. “Mrs. Sterling, Ian and I broke up,” I said as calmly as I could. It was like she didn’t even hear me. She even let out a soft scoff. But she quickly plastered a smile back on her face and looked up at me: “You just have too much of a temper. I always tell our Ian, he might not be able to handle the temper of an out-of-town girl. But he just won’t listen. Young people, right? They don’t know it hurts until they hit a brick wall.” Seeing my face getting darker, she laughed: “Don’t take it the wrong way, I’m not talking about you. Come, come, come, eat your food first.” She opened the thermal lunchbox, laid everything out on the table, took pictures from every angle, and sent them to Ian. “I have to report back to him, tell him I delivered your food. “I’m not trying to lecture you, but you’re not a kid anymore. When you throw a tantrum, you need to know when to stop. Ian is a businessman. If you keep ruining his mood, won’t it affect his work? How does that benefit you? “You need to settle down. You two are getting married next year. Best if you have a kid before the end of the year. That job of yours doesn’t pay much anyway, just quit early.” I let out an exasperated laugh. “Mrs. Sterling, did you not hear me? Ian and I broke up. I am not marrying him.” She pursed her lips: “Alright, alright, I’m too lazy to listen to this. You’ve just been brainwashed by too many TikTok videos. Thinking about staying single and childless, talking about ‘female independence.’ Independent this, independent that, you’re still spending my son’s money.” This wasn’t the first time she had said this. But every time she did, Ian never defended me, not even once. He would just calmly tell me afterward, “My mom is older, that’s just how she thinks. Don’t take it to heart.” Thinking about it now, maybe he actually agreed with her. He was just using his mother as the bad cop, subtly trying to put me in my place. I packed the lunchbox back up, shoved it into her hands, and pushed her straight out the door. Mrs. Sterling looked shocked, cursing as she stumbled backward: “What is wrong with you, little girl?! Is this how you treat your elders? You think you can marry my son acting like—” SLAM! As the door slammed shut, the apartment finally returned to peace. 6 The weather was beautiful on moving day. A few friends volunteered to come over and help. Chloe was a mutual friend of mine and Ian. She glanced at my face and asked: “Avery, why isn’t Ian here? His girlfriend is moving and he doesn’t even show up. What is he so busy with?” Another friend nudged her arm, laughing to smooth things over: “Isn’t Ian out of town? It’s normal that he couldn’t make it back.” Chloe didn’t say anything. A while later, she pulled me aside and showed me a post on Sarah’s Instagram. The background of the photo looked like a hotel room. Ian looked drunk, his eyes hazy, his face pressed against Sarah’s as they smiled. The caption: [Mr. CEO’s alcohol tolerance is lacking!] Chloe was furious: “Avery, didn’t you see Sarah’s post? What kind of person is she? There are three male partners at their firm, and she’s clinging to all of them. Look at this picture, what’s the difference between this and…” She lowered her voice: “What’s the difference between this and an intimate photo? “No matter how disciplined Ian is, he can’t withstand a woman throwing herself at him like this. Why haven’t you called him back? If you wait, something’s really going to happen!” I let out a bitter laugh, feeling somewhat helpless. “Chloe, Ian and I broke up over half a month ago.” Recently, Chloe wasn’t the only one who had shown me Ian and Sarah’s photos. I wasn’t the type to air my private life in public, but feeling that those two were haunting me like ghosts, I decided to post a status: [A clean break. A new beginning.] I tossed my phone on the table and went back to moving boxes. The morning flew by after a few trips up and down the stairs. My phone suddenly vibrated. I was carrying a heavy box with Chloe. My younger colleague, Tyler, glanced at the phone and called out to me: “Avery, do you want me to answer this? There’s no caller ID, it’s probably spam.” I casually replied: “Sure, answer it for me.” Tyler picked it up, his voice suddenly mature and deep: “Hello, who is this?” I don’t know what the person on the other end said, but he turned slightly away: “She’s really tired right now. Call back later.” I only heard that one sentence before walking out the door, feeling that something wasn’t quite right. But I didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t until I had taken a load of boxes downstairs and came back up that I asked, “Who was it?” Tyler looked innocent: “I don’t know. I asked, but they wouldn’t say. Probably a telemarketer.” I nodded and went back to moving boxes, but the phone rang again. Panting, I casually answered it. “Hello?” There was no voice on the other end, just the sound of someone breathing slightly heavily. I frowned at the screen. No caller ID. Annoyed, I raised my voice: “Hello? I’m hanging up if you don’t speak!” Tyler walked over with some strawberries he just bought. “Avery, take a break if you’re tired. I’ll go wash these.” Before I could say anything, Ian’s furious voice exploded through the phone: “Avery, what the hell are you doing?! Who is that guy?!” His voice pierced through the speaker, so loud that almost everyone in the apartment heard it. Feeling awkward and mortified, I walked to the other side of the room and lowered my voice: “Ian, are you crazy? We’re broken up. Stop calling me.” Ian let out a cold laugh: “When did I ever agree to break up with you? These past few days, I’ve been checking in on you, I even had my mom bring you food and drinks. What more do you want? What exactly do you want from me?” I suddenly fell silent. What was the point of saying anything to him? Didn’t I already know that this guy just didn’t understand human language? —Oh, it wasn’t that he didn’t understand human language. He just didn’t understand my language. I hung up the phone and blocked that number too. The move was successfully completed before 3:00 PM. After treating my friends to hotpot, we chatted and laughed before going our separate ways. Back in my newly rented apartment, my cat jumped onto the entryway cabinet and flicked her tail at me. I washed my hands, picked up the cat, and curled up on the balcony sofa. Outside the window, there were no more skyscrapers or neon lights. Just two patches of yellowish-green foliage wrapped around a dim, yellow streetlight. I remembered when I first graduated, living in that tiny 300-square-foot studio. I really enjoyed living alone back then. Because it was the first time I felt completely in control of my own life. Then I met Ian. The first two years with him flew by. I was so happy. Looking back now, it feels surreal, almost like a dream. By the third year, minor issues and small arguments started to crop up. But back then, all I had to do was shed a tear, and he would sigh, come over, and hold me. Sometimes he would slam the door in anger, but within half an hour, he would be back with cake, bubble tea, and flowers. By the fourth year, the arguments became frequent and intense. He became indifferent to my tears. There were no more apologies, no more listening. He just grabbed his keys and slammed the door. Until our first Cold War, which lasted over thirty days. He seemed to have discovered the “ultimate weapon” and used it flawlessly ever since. I was originally someone who enjoyed solitude. But after falling in love, I became clingy and lost myself. I couldn’t bear him not texting me for a day, let alone leaving for dozens of days out of anger. Every day without a response, I spent agonizingly overthinking everything. But I was never supposed to be like that. A healthy relationship shouldn’t be like that either. My cat meowed softly in my arms. The late March wind already carried a hint of spring warmth. I took a deep breath, feeling incredibly light. At this moment, I was no longer waiting for anyone’s message. I was fully enjoying the peace of the present.

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“Just because I helped her sign the attendance sheet, and not you?” “Yes.” Ethan’s tone was still cold. “Fine. Suit yourself.” He lowered his head to continue typing his code, not sparing me another glance. And because of that, I never got the chance to tell him. Because I failed that attendance check, my grade dropped, and I completely lost my guaranteed spot in our university’s graduate program. I had no choice but to apply out of state. We would be separated by thousands of miles, making it incredibly hard to ever see each other again. Before I left, I threw everything related to Ethan Vance into the trash, including the promise ring we bought together. Later, I heard the rumors. The brilliant, neat-freak golden boy of the Harvard Computer Science department absolutely lost his mind. Just for a single ring, he dug through a literal mountain of garbage with his bare hands until dawn. 01 “Just because I helped her sign the attendance sheet, and not you?” The lecture hall was completely empty. Ethan Vance looked up carelessly, his eyes meeting mine. There was barely a trace of emotion in them. I nodded. “Yes. So, we’re done here.” Ethan’s gaze lingered on me for two seconds. But only for two seconds. He lowered his head and went back to the unfinished project on his laptop. He didn’t look at me again. “Fine. Suit yourself.” Even Chloe, the junior standing innocently beside him, looked at me with a hint of concern. But I was his girlfriend of three years. He still hadn’t noticed that I had been running a high fever for three days, my face flushed to an unnatural degree. I gave a self-deprecating smile. I turned to leave, but Chloe grabbed my arm: “Senior, he only helped me sign in because we pulled an all-nighter for a project all week. He knew I was just running out to grab coffee and bagels, so he did it as a favor… He even asked me to bring you a coffee too. It’s really not what you think.” I was already dizzy from the fever. Caught off guard by her pull, I stumbled and fell hard onto the floor. My knee scraped painfully against the edge of the lecture hall steps. The sharp, stinging pain cut through my physical exhaustion, and my eyes instantly welled up with tears. “Senior!” Chloe hurriedly tried to help me up. Her eyes kept darting anxiously toward Ethan, trying to gauge his reaction. But she clearly didn’t understand the kind of person Ethan was. Hearing the commotion, Ethan looked up blankly, his brow furrowing slightly. “Chloe, do you have too much free time?” Chloe, who had just been about to explain that it wasn’t on purpose, froze in place. “Huh?” “If you have so much free time, come over here and finish your part of the code.” I met Ethan’s dead, ripple-less eyes. I finally accepted it. He would always be an unshakeable mountain to me. No matter what happened, I couldn’t move him an inch. 02 “This might be for the best. For your specific research focus, besides our university, the only other place that really fits is maybe Columbia. “Since you lost your guaranteed spot here… “Going out of state or applying to a totally different environment is the better choice.” Hanging up the phone with my advisor, I pushed through my illness to start preparing my application materials. Just like my professor said. My research direction was a bit niche. If I stayed on the East Coast, my only real options were Harvard or Columbia. But if I opened up to a totally different system—like moving across the country to California—suddenly there were a lot more universities to choose from. I was actually torn on where to go. A single thought can open up the world. I suddenly didn’t know why I had been killing myself to secure a grad spot at my own insanely competitive university. What was it all for? My phone lit up. A notification popped up. It was from my “Favorites” list: Ethan’s Instagram. Ethan never posted on social media. Even when he agreed to date me, he never made it public. When I begged him to post about us, his tone was cold and impatient: “My private life is private. Why does it need to be put on display?” I told him everyone else did it. Isn’t it nice to share your happiness and get blessings from friends when you’re in a relationship? I said so much. But in the end, Ethan didn’t even bother looking at me: “Flora, Professor Davis from the Philosophy department is offering a Logic seminar this fall. I suggest you enroll.” I shut my mouth. The conversation was dropped. So, what exactly was worthy of Ethan making a post? I tapped the notification. [Project finished. First place.] Attached was a group photo of his project team at their celebration dinner. Ethan held the phone carelessly, his face a bit blurry. It seemed he was looking down at his phone and only looked up at the camera because someone called his name. But it still couldn’t hide how incredibly handsome he was. Effortlessly handsome. The kind of handsome where, as long as you looked at the photo, your eyes would instantly lock onto his face. It was no wonder that a talent agency had offered him a massive contract to become an idol back in high school. My gaze shifted slightly. Chloe, the new junior on his project team, was also in the photo. She stood out, too. She was the only one not looking at the camera. She was sitting right next to Ethan, well past a normal, platonic distance. Her eyes were focused intently on him. The love practically poured out of the screen. There were a few comments below, asking if Ethan finally got a girlfriend and if this was a soft launch. Ethan didn’t reply. The bright glow of my phone screen grew dimmer and dimmer. Until it suddenly went black. I snapped out of my daze, unlocked my phone, removed Ethan from my favorites, and blocked him. I finally understood the question I had asked myself earlier. Why did I kill myself trying to secure a spot at my own university? Because of Ethan. Of course it was because of Ethan. He could easily get a guaranteed spot, and I wanted to prove that I could stay with him forever. That’s why I worked so desperately. Just like in the beginning. When I and a bunch of other girls confessed our feelings to him, he looked annoyed, his frown practically screaming, Another one? So annoying. In the end, he gave me a dismissive look: “I don’t like girls with bad grades. “If you can get into my university, I’ll consider dating you.” He was a teenage prodigy, already guaranteed early admission to Harvard. The bar was so high that his words were enough to make anyone back down and walk away. But I didn’t. I studied like my life depended on it during my junior and senior years. I pushed myself so hard my parents literally begged me to stop. I will never forget the day I moved in as a freshman. I walked right up to Ethan: “I got in. It’s time for you to keep your promise.” He looked up at my expression. For once, he was genuinely stunned. 03 I went to the campus print shop to get my application materials, and by the time I got back to my apartment, my fever had spiked dangerously high. I just collapsed into bed and passed out. When I woke up. Ethan was sitting right beside me. The curtains fluttered in the breeze, the light in the room dim and golden. It felt like a dream. He reached out to feel my forehead. There was a glass of hot water and an opened pack of cold medicine on the nightstand: “Why didn’t you tell me you had a fever? Do you still feel awful?” It really was a dream. But for some reason, tears started falling from my eyes, one by one. Ethan froze in place. After a long time, his expression softened. His voice took on an almost illusion-like gentleness: “Why are you crying?” I cried even harder, sobbing as I called out his name, over and over. “Ethan, I like you so much, I really do… “But I can’t hold on anymore, Ethan. I really can’t… “I’m so tired, Ethan…” We had been together for three years. But it had been five years since I first started liking him. Over those five years, I had walked step by step to stand beside him. Only I knew how agonizingly hard it was. Some friends felt sorry for me. What kind of girl simps this hard for a guy? But when I said it was Ethan Vance, they all sighed in defeat. After all, it was Ethan. Countless girls liked him. Weren’t there girls prettier and smarter than me? What was I to him? What did I even count for in his life? But I just couldn’t let him go. I was too stubborn. My parents, my friends, my teachers—they all said the same thing about me: I wouldn’t turn back even if I slammed into a brick wall. In the dream, the aura around Ethan seemed to grow heavy. But he leaned in and hugged me anyway. His voice was softer than it had ever been: “If you’re tired, then get some sleep. It’s okay. Just rest.” I drifted back to sleep in his soothing embrace. Right before I passed out, I asked: “Ethan, did you… did you ever… actually like me?” I didn’t wait for an answer. I just felt something cold lightly flick my forehead. The touch was cold. The tone was even colder. “That’s a punishment for being an idiot.” 04 When I woke up, I realized there actually was an opened pack of medicine on the nightstand. I guess I was just delirious with fever the night before. I must have gotten up in the middle of the night, grabbed the medicine, and swallowed it myself. Things like that. It wasn’t like they hadn’t happened before. Since my name was on the lease with Ethan, but he was always working late in the labs and had an extreme obsession with cleanliness (he thought our apartment was too big and annoying to clean), he still mostly slept in his dorm. When I got sick, I was the only one taking care of myself. I got a call from the admin office urging me to submit my application forms quickly. I finalized the universities I wanted to apply to. When I went to turn in the forms, I happened to run into a senior from my department. He kindly offered me some advice. “If you’re interested in this topic, I actually recommend going to a major university in California. The West Coast system fits your research style perfectly. “Of course, if you’re looking at your long-term career, moving across the country to a completely new environment is a great choice.” He gave me a bright smile. “After all, our junior Flora is so brilliant, your future is limitless.” I stared at him, a bit dazed. Brilliant? Me? “Yeah. Flora Bennett. The genius who finished all her thesis research and drafts so early—everyone in our department knows you.” The only impression I had of this senior, Liam Hayes, was that he was in the same volleyball club as Ethan. Every time I went to watch a game, I’d see the two of them fiercely competing, neither giving an inch. Such a near-stranger. Yet his evaluation of me was so much higher than Ethan’s. I smiled, feeling a sense of relief. Just as I was about to thank him. I heard a voice: “Senior?” I turned my head. Chloe was standing right next to Ethan, probably dropping off some paperwork too. She was standing very close to him. In his hand, he was holding a blind box collectible figure—the exact one I had mentioned wanting in our text messages numerous times over the past few weeks. “Senior, what a coincidence running into you here. “I heard you were sick. Are you feeling any better?” Ethan didn’t say a word. He just kept his gaze locked steadily on me without shifting. … For a split second. I actually thought Ethan was jealous. Because there was one time I went to watch him play volleyball, and Liam happened to be there too. When Liam saw me, he greeted me enthusiastically, calling me “Junior Flora,” and happily took the bottle of water I handed him and took a drink. At the time, Ethan just gave him a cold, fleeting glance. But during that match, almost all of his high-speed spikes were aimed directly at Liam. Ethan was a neat freak who hated sweating and looking messy, so he chose to be the setter. His playstyle was light but devious, constantly sending the blockers running in circles. That night, he completely destroyed Liam’s team, making them genuinely angry. He didn’t even look sideways. He just patted my head, took my water bottle, and said: “Let’s go home.” I thought he didn’t care. But when we got home, I realized Ethan was incredibly… Aggressive. It was like he wanted to break me apart. Deep into the night, I was so exhausted I couldn’t even make a sound. I lay in bed, panting softly, even my fingertips numb. When I opened my eyes, I met a pair of eyes that shone brightly even in the dark. Before I could even wonder why Ethan was staring at me. He leaned down. And pulled me into a long, deep kiss. The second round felt just like that kiss—stifling, slow, and tormenting. Right before I passed out, I finally managed to process it: “Ethan, are you upset?” A very, very long silence. Followed by a very faint: “Mm.” 05 I opened my mouth, just about to call Ethan’s name. But then I saw Ethan hand the blind box in his hand to Chloe. Her face instantly flushed red, and she gasped in surprise, “Senior, is this for me?” Ethan gave a simple “Mm.” He turned and walked away without a second of hesitation, his back disappearing from view almost immediately. The name that never made it out of my mouth was swallowed back down. I smiled forcefully at Liam. So stupid. I almost thought Ethan actually cared about me. I handed my prepared application forms to the admin office. The administrative counselor confirmed with me one last time: “Flora, are you absolutely sure you don’t want to change this? Think it over carefully. Once you submit this out-of-state application, it can’t be withdrawn or reversed.” I nodded: “I’m sure. I won’t change it.” 06 When I got back to the apartment, I was surprised to find Ethan there. He was sitting on the sofa in the unlit room, his dark eyes staring at me intently: “…Why did you go to the admin office today?” I was a bit surprised. How rare. Ethan was actually initiating small talk. I brushed him off casually: “Senior Liam is applying to schools out of state. I was helping him figure out which universities fit his research focus.” “What’s there to look at?” I was almost tempted to snap back. Not everyone in the world is a genius like you, where everything goes perfectly and every honor or bright future is just icing on the cake. We normal people have to work hard for everything, worry about everything, and still face setbacks. But a sudden, heavy exhaustion spread through my entire body. I just nodded. Too tired to speak. I was calculating in my head: if Ethan was going to stay here, I needed to pack my bags and ship them out as soon as possible. “Flora.” Ethan’s voice was low and cold. The moment I stepped into the room, my wrist was grabbed tightly, and I unexpectedly stumbled into his embrace. The next second, he bit my lower lip, so hard it made my eyes widen. After a while, he let me go. I looked at him, almost forgetting that when we shared our first kiss three years ago, he had looked like a martyr facing a firing squad. He was a neat freak and incredibly difficult. We had dated for three months without a single kiss. It was only on my birthday, when he was too busy and forgot to get a gift, that I asked how he was going to make it up to me. And we finally shared our first kiss. After the kiss. He froze for a long time, a faint blush on his face. His final action was to stare at me, then use his thumb to wipe his glossy lips. “Flora, do you have something you want to say to me?” Ethan’s voice pulled me back to the present. He stared dead into my eyes. Probably because he realized I wasn’t simping for him like I usually did, and sensed something was wrong. Something to say? Of course I had something to say. But Ethan, what do you want me to say? Should I talk about how you rarely spent a birthday with me, but before the clock even struck midnight, you rushed off because of a project? Or how you bought me a birthday cake with mango filling, knowing I’m deathly allergic to mangoes out of everything in the world, sending me to the ER? Or how I stayed in the hospital for nine days, and you didn’t send a single text, didn’t answer a single call, and made me miss the most important departmental exam because of the allergic reaction? Or how, if I failed one more core class, the three years of effort I put into securing my grad school spot would be completely ruined? Or how I dragged myself back from the hospital through a high fever, begging you to sign me in for that one crucial class, and you completely ignored me, only to sign in your obviously lovestruck junior instead? I looked up at Ethan, my eyes heavy with exhaustion: “Ethan, I’m really, really tired.” I pushed away the slightly stunned Ethan. And walked further into the room. But halfway there, I suddenly stopped. I asked Ethan: “Do you like Chloe?” Ethan frowned, looking very unwilling to answer the question, his voice cold and hard: “No.” I nodded. I figured as much. Knowing Ethan’s personality, if he actually liked someone, he would have told me to get lost a long time ago. I paused for a moment. My voice softened: “Then… do you like me?” Ethan looked as if the question offended him, his tone impatient: “Didn’t I answer that question a long time ago?” I nodded. I remembered the time during the high school track meet when I suddenly collapsed from low blood sugar, and Ethan, a student volunteer, carried me to the nurse’s office. I fell in love with him at first sight. And then, like all the other girls, I confessed my feelings to him. He rejected me, just like he rejected everyone else. “I don’t like you.” “I know.” 07 Fortunately, because Ethan’s previous project was a massive success, he was given another major assignment and traveled out of town with his mentor. He didn’t have time to come back to the apartment we rented together. If this project successfully launched, he would soon achieve financial independence. He truly was the absolute best among our peers. People like me could only look up to him from a distance. The complications from my allergic reaction finally cleared up. I threw myself wholeheartedly into preparing for my out-of-state move. During this time, Ethan actually started texting me proactively: [Didn’t you always want to go to Boston with me for a trip?] [After this project is over, I’ll go with you.] After a long pause, another message came through. [Okay?] He had never asked me like this before. Both Ethan and I knew that he held absolute control in this relationship. He could be as willful and arrogant as he wanted. And I would always just gaze at him, forever unable to leave him, bound by my hopelessly deep love. I stared at the phone screen in a daze for a long time. Go to Boston? I really did always want to take Ethan to Boston. I wanted to show him all the moments I fell in love with him. Under the oak trees, sitting outside the cafe across from the campus bookstore, watching Ethan for an entire afternoon, day after day. The wind blew through the trees, and when the boy walked away, a leaf perfectly drifted down. It brushed past his shoulder and fell away. I took that leaf home and pressed it into a specimen to keep forever. My friends said I was absolutely insane. “Do you really like Ethan that much?” I really, really liked Ethan that much. I was a pure liberal arts major, dealing with philosophers all day. People always assumed we were deeply rational and clear-headed. Not at all. I was hopelessly, irrevocably, and vulgarly in love with Ethan. The night before the SATs, I saw Ethan. During my senior year, I studied until I severed all my emotions. Even in the last fifteen minutes, I closed my eyes to review everything I had mastered. But the moment I walked out of the library and bumped into Ethan, who was home on break from his elite university, my heart still skipped a beat uncontrollably. I felt like… That was the best gift God had ever given me. I rushed forward eagerly, calling his name: “Ethan! Ethan!” He stopped, looking confused, and took out his earbuds to look at me. He still didn’t recognize who I was. Seeing my high school uniform, he realized I was a junior student. He nodded politely, gave a distant “Good luck on the SATs,” and walked away. Okay. Good luck on the SATs. I performed exceptionally well, so well it was unbelievable, and actually got into Harvard. I took out the candy Ethan had given me the day I fainted from low blood sugar. Ethan just looked at me, confused: “What?” It was obvious. He didn’t remember me. When Ethan handed me that candy, he was still looking down at a complex math problem. His voice was indifferent: “The nurse said eating a piece of candy will help you recover faster.” He didn’t even look up at me. But, as if possessed, I didn’t eat that candy. I kept it safe, preserving it until it rotted and could no longer be eaten. I thought my love for Ethan might be like that too. I carefully maintained and preserved it all this time, but what remained in the end was nothing but a rotten, spoiled lump of sugar. Maybe it was still sweet. But eating it would definitely poison me. In the end, I didn’t reply to Ethan’s invitation to Boston. I blocked him and deleted his number again. I changed the passcode on my phone. To make absolutely sure he could never change it back himself. 08 The day I left seemed to be the exact same day Ethan’s project finished. For a project of that scale, the fact that Ethan could finish it so quickly proved his genius wasn’t just a rumor. I threw everything related to Ethan into the garbage. Including the promise ring we impulsively made on a date, which had a candy shape he hand-carved on it. My luggage had already been shipped out. I took one last look at the apartment we rented. It was spotless, not a speck of dust. I couldn’t help but smile. Ethan had OCD and never really liked this apartment. Now it was perfect, he would definitely love it. Before boarding my flight, I received a friend request from an unknown number. It was Chloe. After hesitating for a long time, she sent a message. [Senior…] [I actually really do like Ethan.] I took a sharp breath. What? Was I actually experiencing this dramatic, soap-opera trope of the “other woman” provoking the original girlfriend? Chloe: [But I know he… he will never like me.] [I know I definitely caused trouble for you. I’m sorry, Senior.] [There is absolutely nothing between me and Ethan. He only posted that picture on Instagram because our mentor wanted everyone to post something to celebrate. I never expected my feelings to be so… obvious. I feel like an idiot.] [I’m so sorry, Senior. I really am. I know my presence makes you uncomfortable. I can’t control the fact that I like him, but I will control myself and stay away from him.] [You and Ethan are truly a perfect match. I can tell that he actually likes you a lot. If it weren’t for him rushing to finish the project to get back to you, we wouldn’t have finished it so fast.] [He really loves you.] [Once this project is officially over, I’ll leave the team. I thought about it a lot, and I felt I had to apologize to you. Please believe him, and please don’t fight with him anymore. Seeing you guys fight makes me panic too. Between him and me, there is absolutely nothing going on.] [Also, please take care of your health. Both times I saw you, you looked sick. You have to take care of yourself. Heart emojis.] It felt like there was no right way to reply. The reason things between Ethan and me had reached this point wasn’t because he would fall for someone else. It was because his life had been too smooth; he had never learned how to love someone. I could say without hesitation that I loved him. I could even boast that out of everyone who claimed to love him, I loved him the most. I loved him for five years, and tolerated him for three. But I am human too. I get tired. I honestly didn’t know if Ethan would ever have a sudden epiphany, stop walking ahead of me leaving me only his back, and finally turn around to embrace me. I wasn’t even sure if that day would ever come. Hopelessly. Waiting for love to arrive, day in and day out for five years. Only to end up like a gambler who lost absolutely everything. So pathetic. You’re too pathetic, Flora. [It’s fine. Ethan and I already broke up.] [Whatever happens next is strictly between you and him. Good luck.] After sending that message. I turned off my phone and boarded the plane heading for California. I remembered what Senior Liam said: maybe a different academic environment would suit me better. But honestly, I was also a bit practical. I wanted success and recognition. I had done enough things with terribly low returns. I didn’t want to do them anymore. 09 The plane ascended, then finally landed. The houses below turned into tiny models, then vanished into the clouds, until new houses appeared. The city I landed in. There were no oak trees, but the palm trees grew lush and vibrant. 10 In a completely new environment, thousands of miles from home, everything was a bit of a struggle, but not overwhelmingly so. I followed in Ethan’s footsteps. It was exhausting, but the rewards were tangible. Thinking about it, if I hadn’t worked so hard for the grad program, pushing to finish my research and thesis early, my journey here probably wouldn’t have gone so smoothly. Realizing that, I felt a little less miserable. I integrated into the local culture, continuing to battle with various academic theories, running across campus with a croissant in my mouth to catch my next class. I brought a thoughtful welcome gift to a brilliant, young British professor who had already become a leading figure in her field. She raised an elegant eyebrow. She asked me what my name meant. She wanted to remember the meaning behind every student’s name. “Flora. Flora… um… it relates to plant life…” How was I supposed to explain the complex meaning of my given name to a foreigner? I stumbled over my words. But suddenly, a very quiet, cold voice sounded behind me: “Flora means the blooming of flowers, flourishing and full of life.” The English definition was precise, the pronunciation perfect. The British professor understood immediately. “That is indeed a very fitting name for you, Flora.” But I froze in place. I forgot to even turn around. The British professor was very enthusiastic: “And you are?” “Hello, let me introduce myself. I’m Ethan Vance. I’m the new visiting professor the university invited.” The British professor voiced my exact inner thought: “Such a young visiting professor?!” I finally snapped back to reality and turned around. Ethan, in a loud and chaotic place like California, looked like a cold, elegant stalk of bamboo. His features were detached, his face so unreasonably handsome it was impossible to look away. He tilted his head slightly. His gaze landed on me. It felt like it carried the weight of a thousand tons. “Flora. Long time no see.”

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That Valentine’s Day, I left him standing all alone on the streets of Manhattan and walked away without ever looking back. Years later, when we met again, he was already a top-tier magnate controlling the lifeblood of Wall Street. He appeared at a star-studded charity auction, dropping an astronomical sum on a necklace for his current girlfriend. People teased him: “Mr. Sterling, should we be expecting wedding bells soon?” Hudson Sterling barely lifted his eyes. “We’re just playing around. It doesn’t count.” The moment those words left his mouth, he saw me. The smile on his lips instantly died. Under the watchful eyes of the entire room, he stood up and walked steadily toward me. My mind went completely blank. I only had time to formulate the simplest greeting: “Long time no see—” The next second, his large, knuckle-defined hand clamped ruthlessly around my neck, pinning me against the freezing marble wall. “You actually dared to come back?” He smiled like a spring breeze, but his eyes were as cold as the arctic. “Did I or did I not say, if you ever showed your face again, I would kill you myself?” 1 I hadn’t seen Hudson for a full twenty-four hours. The food on the dining table had gone cold and been reheated multiple times. “Mrs. Miller, clear the table,” I said. “Ma’am, are you not going to eat?” In this house, even the housekeeper, Mrs. Miller, cared about me more than my own husband did. In my designer bag was a lab report from my hospital visit that morning. The joy of carrying a new life had only lasted two minutes. Across the hospital corridor, I had seen Hudson. He was carefully supporting Serena Thorne as they walked into an examination room. I sat on a chair in the hallway, hesitating over whether I should wait for them to come out and tell Hudson, right in front of Serena, that he was going to be a father. But even after they emerged and their silhouettes disappeared down the other end of the corridor, I remained frozen in the exact same position, like an invisible, irrelevant statue. I didn’t know why I was being such a coward. I wasn’t some desperate lapdog; the union between the Sterlings and the Brooks was a marriage of equal corporate giants. I had every right to march up and scream at him! The one who falls in love first, loses. Truly the wisest words ever spoken. “What are you doing here?” Matte leather dress shoes stopped right in front of me. I looked up. Hudson was frowning, his handsome face etched with exhaustion. “Where does it hurt?” “My stomach.” “Stomach acting up again? How much coffee did you drink?” Hudson glanced down at his luxury watch. “Did the doctor check it out?” “Yeah. Nothing serious.” “Drink less coffee. Eat your meals on time.” Hudson took a step toward the elevators. “I have some business to attend to…” “Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to brush me off…” He let out a soft chuckle and stepped into the elevator. “I’ll explain when I get home.” 2 By the time Hudson got home, it was already 10 PM. “Her husband beat her. I took her to the hospital.” After stating the facts, Hudson added with emphasis, “There is nothing going on between us.” Since he said it like that, I’d pretend to believe it. “I only have one boundary. Keep your distance.” “I will.” His promise was still echoing in my ears when his phone rang. He immediately rolled out of bed. “Marcus went to the hospital. I have to go check.” I sat up immediately. “I’m going with you.” The opposing family members were making an appearance; what reason did I have to hide? Hudson didn’t say a word, just knit his brows and walked at a blistering pace. I had to jog just to keep up with him. “Drive a little slower.” Hudson was treating the city streets like a drag strip, slamming the gas and the brakes. I almost threw up my dinner in his passenger seat. “Why did you even come with me?” Even though he tried to rein in his tone, his impatience was palpable. “Fine, I won’t go. Turn around and take me home.” Hudson sighed. “Could you please stop throwing a tantrum?” “Could you please drive slower? Serena’s marriage is dead; do you want to drag the two of us to the grave with her?” Knowing he was in the wrong, Hudson silently eased off the accelerator. 3 In the private hospital room, Serena sat on the bed, crying beautifully like a fragile porcelain doll. Marcus was on his knees, bawling louder than she was. “I’m a piece of trash. I deserve to die… Serena, please, give me one more chance…” “What’s the point of saying this now?” Serena’s attitude was unyielding. “Leave. I don’t want to look at you.” Marcus opened his mouth to beg, but Hudson—playing the ever-chivalrous knight in shining armor—couldn’t sit still. He took a long stride over, grabbed Marcus by the collar like a helpless chicken, and hoisted him up. “She said she doesn’t want to see you.” Against Hudson’s absolute physical dominance, Marcus stood no chance. He was tossed out and left banging on the hospital room door, shouting her name. “If he keeps making that noise, how are the other patients supposed to rest?” Serena turned her head away, shedding silent tears. “Who cares about the others? Serena is going through so much right now…” This was the second time Hudson had lashed out at me for Serena’s sake. I glared at him, making a mental note to settle the score when we got home. Seeing me open the door, Hudson snapped, “What are you doing?” “Pacifying the guy outside. What else? Are we just going to let him cause a scene?” 4 I went to the convenience store downstairs and bought Marcus some sports drinks and snacks. He hadn’t eaten properly in days. The Thorne family empire had filed for bankruptcy. It hadn’t hit the news yet, but their assets were already frozen. He had begged Serena’s family to bail him out, but the Thornes refused. “Just because the Thornes wouldn’t bail you out, you use your wife as a punching bag? Does that make you a man?” He dropped his head, burying his face in his hands as he wept. “Stop crying.” I tossed a pack of tissues in front of him. “A grown man sobbing in a hospital hallway…” “Could you please help me talk to Serena? Tell her not to abort the baby… The baby is innocent…” Serena was pregnant? “You have the nerve to ask for favors after beating a pregnant woman? Are you even human?” Marcus suddenly dropped to his knees, grabbing the hem of my pants. “I only found out after… Please, help me. I have absolutely nothing left…” “You know exactly why Serena married you. In our circle, marriage is a transaction. Love is a luxury—a luxury that money can’t even buy. Wake up, Marcus.” 5 When I pushed the door open, Hudson immediately turned around and pressed a finger to his lips, shushing me. Meanwhile, his other hand was tightly clasped in the hands of a sleeping Serena. “You go home first…” he whispered. “Okay.” Why stay and be the third wheel? At 2 AM, the streets of New York were deserted. I waited half an hour and couldn’t hail a single cab. “Where are you heading?” A kind-hearted driver rolled down their window. They looked like a young married couple. “It’s too late for you to be out. We can give you a ride.” “Thank you so much.” I slid into the backseat. “Upper East Side, 16th Street.” “Got it, GPS is set.” The car cruised smoothly along the wide, empty avenues. “Babe, take tomorrow off. Don’t go into work,” the man said, checking the dashboard clock. “It’s already 3 AM…” The woman shook her head. “No way. Missing a day means losing hundreds of dollars…” “Your husband can support you. It’s settled. Rest at home tomorrow. I’ll make you some porridge when we get back; we’ll keep it light…” The woman smiled silently, clearly accepting her husband’s suggestion. “We’re here.” The man glanced out the window at the pitch-black street. “Do you want me to walk you to your lobby?” “No need, it’s just a five-minute walk.” I pulled a business card from my wallet. “Avery Brooks, Apex Logistics. If you two ever need anything, don’t hesitate to reach out.” The kind couple took the card and exchanged a surprised look. “Have a good night. Bye!” “Bye, take care!” The autumn wind was biting, swirling the yellowing leaves across the pavement. Today was the first frost of the year. I pulled my coat tighter around myself and started the walk home. 6 Serena scheduled her abortion. “With a cowardly loser for a father, the kid is better off reincarnating,” Hudson remarked callously. I found it inexplicably funny. “Mr. Sterling, the squab soup is ready.” Mrs. Miller placed the thermal thermos on the table. “I added some jujubes and goji berries.” “Yeah.” Hudson picked up the thermos. “I’m heading to the hospital. Go to sleep early tonight, don’t wait up.” Tch. As if I’d wait up for him. Back in the bedroom, my best friend—Chloe, who also happened to be an HR executive at Sterling Group—sent me a voice memo. “What? He’s running to the hospital every day? Is he planning to nurse Serena through her postpartum recovery too?” I filed my nails nonchalantly. “He definitely wouldn’t be this attentive if I were the one recovering.” “Did you tell him you’re pregnant yet?” I shook my head with a fake smile. “When would I get the chance? CEO Hudson is either working overtime or playing nurse at the hospital.” Chloe sat up straight on the FaceTime call. “Listen to me. Tomorrow, you take the soup to the hospital. Tell him you’re pregnant right there. Make sure that Thorne bitch hears it loud and clear.” “Ugh, I don’t know… That makes me look so manipulative…” “Tsk,” Chloe clicked her tongue. “You have to out-manipulate the manipulator. Strike first to gain the upper hand, or strike late and just cry about it.” “I’ll go to the hospital tomorrow and read the room. We’re all old acquaintances; I don’t want to make it too ugly.” The next day, Hudson asked his driver, Leo, to come back for the soup. I said, I’ll go. I’d give him a surprise. Through the glass window of the hospital room, I saw the two of them hugging. I kept the ‘shock’ for myself and decided to paste the ‘surprise’ right onto the hospital door. Hearing my knock, Hudson forcefully pushed Serena away and got up to open the door. “Didn’t I tell Leo to come back for this?” Hudson took the thermos from my hands, his eyes dodging mine, his tone accusatory. “I missed my husband. Is it a crime to come see you?” I laid the groundwork for my upcoming announcement. The moment I saw them hugging, any concern for ‘looking manipulative’ flew right out the window. “Hudson, you should go home. I’ll be fine by myself…” Serena put on a show of insisting he leave. Playing the victim to gain sympathy? Two could play at that game. I played along smoothly. “She’s right. Go home and get some rest. I can take over here.” “You know how to take care of people?” Hudson scoffed. “Give me a break.” Just then, Hudson’s phone rang. “I need to take this…” “You and Hudson have really worked so hard these past few days…” Serena sure had a way with words. Hudson did all the work, but she forcibly dragged my name into it, putting herself in the center of our dynamic. “We’re all friends. We help when we can.” Outside the door, Hudson was on the phone, occasionally glancing inside. “I’m a little hungry. Could you pass me the soup?” Serena asked. “No problem. Easy.” I poured a small bowl of soup and handed it to her. She let out a sharp gasp and dropped it. The bowl of scalding soup splashed all over the floor. The boiling liquid splattered onto my feet. My soaked stockings clung to my skin, burning and sticky. I immediately sat on the edge of a chair, kicked off my heels, and used wet wipes to cool the burns. Hudson burst into the room, rushing straight to check Serena’s hands. “Did you burn yourself?” “It burned my foot!” I yelled at him. “I’m fine! It’s all my fault, I didn’t hold it tight enough…” Serena blamed herself perfectly. “Hudson, quickly, check if Avery is okay…” “Her voice is loud enough to wake the dead. She’s fine.” Hudson bent down to pick up the ceramic shards, tossing them in the trash. “I’ll get a janitor to clean this up.” “Hudson is always so considerate. I’m so jealous of you…” This level of manipulation really was an art form. “Marcus wasn’t so bad himself. Before the divorce, he handed over his entire paycheck. After the divorce, he shouldered all your joint debt alone…” “Avery, do you ever listen to yourself?” Hudson pushed the door back open, glaring at me. “All you ever talk about is money…” The janitor finished mopping the floor, and Serena thanked them softly. There was only half a bowl of soup left in the thermos anyway. And when I handed her the bowl, I deliberately held it from the bottom so she could hold the coolest edges. I could hold it just fine. Just how delicate were her hands supposed to be? The soup literally splashed onto my feet, and she was completely unhurt! The more I thought about it, the higher my blood pressure spiked. If I stayed any longer, I’d need medication. “I’m leaving!” “Don’t let the door hit you.” Until the door clicked shut behind me, Hudson didn’t spare me a single glance. 7 That night, I stared blankly at the ceiling in the dark. Footsteps echoed in the hallway. I immediately squeezed my eyes shut. Hudson walked in, turned on the light, and pulled back the covers. “What are you doing?” “Let me see your foot. Why are you being so aggressive?” I stubbornly tucked my feet deeper under the blanket. “She just had surgery. She’s physically uncomfortable and emotionally unstable… When she suddenly hugged me, I didn’t have time to react…” Hudson sounded genuinely wronged. “Give me a straight answer. How long are you planning on playing her personal nurse?” Hudson’s lips parted, but he couldn’t give me a specific timeline. “Let me know when you figure it out.” Hudson and I inexplicably spiraled into a Cold War, completely ignoring each other. The day of my dad’s birthday banquet, I assumed he wouldn’t show up. I had already crafted a perfect excuse for his absence. But then he appeared, gift in hand. “Had some business to tie up. Got delayed… Happy Birthday, Dad.” My dad beamed. “Avery, take your husband to get some food! Rushing all the way over here, he must be starving.” “Sit next to me.” I had someone add a chair beside mine. “How did you find the time?” “I told you, if I have time, I’ll come.” For all my previous family events, he was miraculously always “out of time.” On the drive home, the silence in the car was deafening. “Spit it out. What is it?” I asked. “Do you always have to view me through such a transactional lens?” Hudson complained. “I came to genuinely celebrate Dad’s birthday.” “Miss this opportunity, and you won’t get another.” Hudson finally confessed. “There’s something I need to run by you.” “Speak.” “I want to place Serena in a role at the Group.” No one knows a son better than his father, and no one knows Hudson better than me. “Thorne Industries went bankrupt too?” Hudson explained, “She just got divorced. If she goes back to the Thorne family business, she’ll be a target for gossip. It’s better if she gains some experience at Sterling for a couple of years before heading back.” “Are you asking for my opinion, or just notifying me?” “Avery, being this aggressive is getting old.” Playing the bad cop didn’t work, so now he was playing the good cop. That’s fine. If he wanted to change faces, I could play the Cold War game flawlessly.

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For a prank on a variety show, the producers made me unblock the first person on my phone’s blacklist and send a greeting. I bit the bullet, pulled my ex-boyfriend out of the block list, and sent: “Hi.” The other side instantly exploded. “Oh, what a rare honor! You finally letting me out for some fresh air? “Spit it out, what do you need from me? “Harper Vance, if you’re begging to get back together right now, I’ll tell you a secret. “Can you reply? If you don’t reply, I’m putting you back on the blacklist! “Whatever, I’ll just tell you. Your daughter gave birth. Are you going to come back and see her or not?” The live chat: [Contact name Ashton Cole? The Best Actor Ashton Cole?! DAUGHTER???] 1 Guys, I am completely stupefied right now. I have absolutely no idea how to clean up this mess. Before I came here, nobody told me this variety show was so authentic that there wasn’t even a basic script. I figured Ashton Cole would have blocked me a long time ago. Who knew he’d reply so fast, it was like he was sitting on top of a Wi-Fi router. And the guy was losing his mind. “You used to ignore me, but the me of today is out of your league! “No, seriously, is it a felony to reply to a text where you are? “Don’t tell me you lost a game of Truth or Dare. I don’t believe it. You just miss me. “If you block me again, I will literally go hang myself under an overpass with your daughter. “Okay, okay, you intentionally sent one word just to bait me, right? Fine, I took the bait, now reel me in!” The continuous buzzing of my phone didn’t just make my palm numb. I felt like my brain was going numb, too. The speed at which the live chat was scrolling was terrifying. [Ashton Cole?! This has to be a prank!] [Don’t tell me my husband is actually involved with this D-list actress. Harper Vance will do anything for clout!] [This is 100% scripted. They’re so brave, casually joking about having a daughter. God knows who’s actually on the other end of that phone. If it’s really Ashton Cole, I’ll do a handstand and eat dirt!] [Upstairs, stop trying to scam a free meal.] [The contrast is so cute! It’s actually kind of sweet. Pure neutral bystander here, waiting for the plot twist.] The show host seemed unable to watch me suffer any longer. He quietly reminded me, “So, Harper, shouldn’t you reply with something?” I nodded and typed back to Ashton: “I’m on a show. Lost a game.” I hoped he would understand. I was filming a show! Ashton replied instantly. Without a single second of hesitation: “No. I don’t believe you.” [LMAO, the ultimate denier.] [If this is really Ashton Cole, I will laugh at him for the rest of my life. Mr. Cold and Aloof?] [Harper Vance waking up in the middle of the night: No, seriously, is there something wrong with his brain?!] 2 As for how the show finally ended, my memory is a hazy blur. Unsurprisingly, when I opened X (formerly Twitter), the top trending topics were all about me. #HarperVanceCloutChaser! #Breaking!HarperVanceRumoredToBeBestActor’sEx# #TheUntoldStoryOfHarperVanceAndAshtonCole# The further I scrolled, the more absurd it got. #HarperVanceSecretChild# #HarperVanceAge38DivorcedWithTwoKids# Seeing this, I posted a tweet: “There are many people in the world with the exact same name.” Whatever. I already have plenty of haters, one more scandal won’t hurt. I’ll just treat it as if I intentionally used the Best Actor for clout. Meanwhile, my manager, Maggie, had lost her mind. She was delirious with joy. She ran over, grinning from ear to ear, telling me exactly how many brands had already contacted her. I couldn’t even force a fake smile. I muttered under my breath, “I’m afraid you’re celebrating too early.” After all, I was the one who dumped Ashton Cole. Who knows if he’ll be so angry when he sees the trending topics that he’ll want to kill me. And that so-called “daughter”? It was actually a Samoyed we raised together when we were dating, named Billi. When we broke up, we each took one dog. The one I took is named Milli. Maggie asked me, “This is such huge news, you’ve gone viral, Harper! Why aren’t you smiling?” I patted Maggie’s shoulder and sighed. “You know me. I’m just not a smiler.” For two days, Ashton didn’t come looking for trouble. He also didn’t go out of his way to clear up the rumors online. I was confused. Even if he wasn’t online, what was his PR team doing? However, on the third day, his Twitter account, which hadn’t been updated in a year, posted a highly passive-aggressive photo and caption. “My daughter gave birth, and her baby mama didn’t even come to take a single look. “It’s fine. I’m not tired, just cursed with a hard life.” The attached photo showed Billi with two newborn puppies. [Bro, who is the baby mama?!] [Please don’t tell me it’s actually Harper Vance.] [If it really is Harper Vance, I’ll accept her as my sister-in-law right now. I honestly think she’s pretty.] Ashton actually replied to that third comment. He said: “I’m still on probation. Can’t say who it is. I don’t want to get blocked again. (Folded hands emoji)” I was done. What the hell was he trying to do?! Stop torturing me, just give me a quick death! Right when everyone was frantically guessing who the “sister-in-law” was. The girl-next-door actress, Blair Sterling, posted a tweet. Caption: “Bought some dog food for my baby, dropped by to visit a friend’s newborn puppies on the way~” Attached photo: She was wearing a white dress, holding a basket of dog treats, posing in a carefully calculated, flattering angle. 3 For the entire month of Billi’s postpartum recovery… I mailed her tons of supplements, various treats, and toys. After all, she was the fur baby I raised with my own hands. If it weren’t for the fact that I genuinely didn’t want to see Ashton, I definitely would have gone to visit her. Later, I learned from Ashton that Billi was pregnant with Milli’s puppies. One day, when I was walking Milli, he got super excited and sneaked off for half an hour. It just so happened that Billi had also run away during that exact same time frame, and later Ashton discovered she was pregnant. The internet has no memory. A month was enough time for everyone to forget a lot of things. I thought my drama with Ashton would finally die down. But unexpectedly, Maggie booked me on a live-streamed variety show. It was a pet-themed show called Furry Family, which had already aired one episode with great reviews. Relying on my sixth sense, I cautiously asked, “This show… Ashton Cole isn’t going to be on it, is he?” “He is! The production team specifically asked for you, figuring they could milk the leftover hype between you two. If Ashton wasn’t on it, we wouldn’t have snagged such a lucky break.” I wanted to cry without tears. You can keep this lucky break. See if you dare take it! Ugh. I pour my heart out to you, and you play mind games with me. Ultimately, crushed by the threat of a massive breach of contract fee, I went on the show. It was absolutely not because they paid me too much! The first day of filming. I had to get up at the crack of dawn. It was so early I wanted to scream. I felt the profound rage of a corpse having its coffin lid ripped off. But I really needed the cash. So, I apologized to my utterly worthless resentment. [Why is she here? Don’t tell me she’s here for our Ashton!] [Can Harper Vance just leave the industry? No specific reason, I just can’t stand her.] The moment I stepped on screen, I received a grand chorus of insults. It couldn’t be helped. That’s how it is when you’re incredibly popular. I’m used to it. I could tolerate Ashton being on the show, but Blair was here too. [Our Blair hid this so well! When did she get a dog behind our backs?] [Toxic shippers back off, our Blair and the Best Actor are the only true match.] [Curious, was Blair really visiting the Best Actor’s daughter last time?] Actually, when I scrolled past her tweet back then, I was confused too. I had a rather unpleasant experience working with Blair once. There was a Golden Retriever acting on set, and Blair’s behavior clearly showed she disliked dogs. How could she possibly own one? 4 Besides the three of us, there were two other guests. The five of us came onto the set first. The dogs were with the production crew. The crew arranged an opening mini-game. The five of us stood behind a screen, letting the dogs find their own owners. When Billi and Milli came out, the two dogs immediately rubbed their faces together affectionately. Standing behind the same screen, Ashton gave me a deeply meaningful look. The two dogs cuddled for a bit, then walked straight toward my side. [These two dogs look like they’re on a dating show.] [Huh? I feel like they know each other really well. Have they met before?] [The person upstairs loves to overthink. A dog is just like its owner. Harper Vance’s dog is just as shameless as she is. Am I the only one who thinks this is disgusting?] [Yes, it’s just you. Build up some good karma, will you? We all know you have a mouth, you don’t need to prove it.] The live chat erupted into a fierce and unfriendly debate over this. Meanwhile, Billi and Milli were already standing on either side of me. I gave Ashton a look, signaling him to take Billi away. He pretended not to see it, playing dumb. Equally out of the loop was Blair’s Border Collie, named Cubby. Billi and Milli stuck to me, and the other guests’ dogs found their parents. Only Cubby was wandering around the perimeter, refusing to go near Blair. Blair looked embarrassed and called out softly, “Cubby.” Cubby remained completely unmoved. Blair raised her voice a bit. Cubby stood in place, pondering for a moment. Then, he slowly ambled over to Ashton’s side. [Aren’t Border Collies supposed to be super smart? Why does it feel like Cubby doesn’t know Blair?] [Cubby went to Ashton! Does Ashton play with Cubby a lot off-camera?] [Oooooh~ I knew it. I totally ship it.] The production crew spoke up, telling us to each retrieve our own “kids.” Blair jogged over to Ashton. She smiled apologetically. “Sorry about that. I don’t know what’s wrong with Cubby today. He must just really like you.” Blair tried to put a collar on Cubby, but he was extremely uncooperative. When she finally got it on, he sat firmly in place, refusing to walk with her. Blair said something deeply suggestive to Ashton. “Looks like I’ll have to let Billi and Cubby have more playdates in the future.” 5 Ashton took a step back. He walked toward my side. “Our Billi is only friends with Milli.” [He’s literally spelling it out! Certain fans of Blair need to stop barking.] [Billi and Milli (Billion and Million). Isn’t that clearly a couple’s name?] [I’m calling her sister-in-law first.] [The people upstairs must be Harper Vance’s brain-dead fans, right? Believing everything they hear.] [Who’s the brain-dead fan, and who’s the one throwing a tantrum? I won’t say. Those who know, know.] Ashton took Billi’s leash from my hand. The man and the dog took three steps, looking back at me with every step. Milli wanted to follow them, but I firmly held him back. I instantly felt like the evil, unreasonable mother-in-law in a melodramatic novel, tearing star-crossed lovers apart. Blair walked over with Cubby and reached out to pet Billi. Billi barked at Blair and dodged her hand, showing absolutely zero respect. Blair awkwardly pulled her hand back from mid-air. She forced a laugh and tried to save face: “It’s been so long since I saw Billi, she’s grown distant from me.” I watched from the sidelines with great interest. Blair was clearly aiming for Ashton. She wanted to be Billi’s stepmom. But finding a two-faced fake who didn’t even like dogs? I would sneak in and steal Billi back in the middle of the night! Ashton frowned and looked confused. “Actually, I wanted to ask earlier. Do we know each other?” [Oh snap. I think I hear the sound of someone’s face getting slapped.] [Is the Best Actor really a player? That’s not how you keep your distance!] [To the people commenting earlier: I declare your cerebrum completely undeveloped, and your cerebellum underdeveloped.] The smile on Blair’s face was crumbling. She froze for several seconds. When she recovered, she said, “Ashton, we worked together last year on First Love.” Blair’s screen time in that movie was minimal. She had a brief cameo as the male lead’s deceased first love—a grand total of maybe three scenes. Ashton thought for a moment. “Oh, what a coincidence.” He dropped that sentence, brushed past Blair, and walked back to his spot. My secondary embarrassment was flaring up. Blair, probably trying to ease the awkwardness, shifted her gaze to Milli. Her tone was odd: “It must be nice having a light acting schedule, Harper. Even your dog is raised plump and chubby. Unlike me. I have to strictly control my diet every day, and Cubby is such a picky eater.” What did that mean? So she hit a wall, and now she’s trying to find her ego by stepping on me? I patted Milli’s head. “My dad really loves green tea. Excuse me, Blair, do you have any vintage pick-me tea at home? I’ll pay top dollar for some.” 6 That night, around midnight. There was a knock on my door. When I opened it, Ashton quickly pushed his way inside. It was as if he was terrified I’d lock him out. I was trapped between the wooden door and his chest. He looked down. “It’s so hard just to see you. Why did you break up with me back then?” I pushed against his shoulder, but he didn’t budge. I blurted out the first thing that came to mind: “Your mom gave me a million dollars to get lost, and when I walked out the door, your ex-girlfriend threw another million at me. I love money.” “If you’re going to lie to me, at least pick a better excuse.” He grabbed my wrist. “Besides you, what ex-girlfriend do I have? And my mom is practically begging for me to get married.” I stayed silent for two seconds. I asked him back, “Back then, juggling me and your career… didn’t you find it exhausting?” When Ashton debuted, his first TV show was a minor hit. Over the next two or three years, his popularity skyrocketed, naturally attracting intense scrutiny. Even though I was a nobody actress, it was inevitable that rumors would start flying. Eventually, it began to affect our normal lives. Since Ashton couldn’t make a choice, I made it for him. Facts proved my departure was the right move. Ashton became more and more famous, and I’m not doing too badly myself now. Hearing my question, Ashton’s brow furrowed tightly. He sighed. “You know back then I…” “Forget it,” I interrupted him. “Let the past stay in the past. Aren’t we both doing better now?” With that, I opened the door, signaling for him to leave. Ashton didn’t put up much of a fight. But right before he left. He said, “Harper Vance, it’s not over. Sooner or later, I’m going to tie us together again. Proudly and publicly.” Even after Ashton left, I stood at the door, feeling a bit dazed. Fine. Let him do whatever he wants. My mindset right now is purely zen. 7 The next day, the producers organized a beach mini-game. Dog treats and toys were buried in the sand in front of us. The rules were simple: the dogs had to find them, and the team that found the most won. [Look at Billi and Milli. Just based on those two, I refuse to believe Ashton and Harper are strictly platonic.] [Wait, what is Blair doing?] [Is she crazy, or am I crazy?] [Is no one going to stop her? I’m so anxious I want to crawl through the internet and grab her!] I looked over at Blair. Cubby had just dug up a dental chew bone. Blair patted his head, then pulled a piece of chocolate out of her pocket, ready to reward him. Wait, chocolate? I took a massive step forward and smacked the chocolate out of her hand. “Harper Vance, what are you doing?!” Blair yelled at me. “Don’t you know dogs can’t eat chocolate?” She hesitated for a few seconds, then mumbled, “What does it have to do with you?” [What’s wrong with Harper Vance? Did nobody teach her how to speak politely?] [She’s just bullying our Blair. Poor Blair, don’t be mad~] [Can the people upstairs stop acting like everything is a catfight? I’m so sick of it. What benefit does it bring you?] [Let’s look at the facts. Does Blair actually know how to raise a dog?] Another female guest, Zoey, walked over. She was a cute girl with her hair in a bun. She spoke up: “That should be common sense for anyone with a pet. Doing that could literally kill the dog.” Blair kept her head down, acting like we were ganging up on her. 她 intentionally made her shoulders tremble, her voice taking on a tearful tone. She said, looking incredibly wronged: “But Cubby always eats it! He loves chocolate, he eats a lot of it every time.” I exchanged a speechless glance with Zoey. Our silence was deafening. Blair’s acting addiction kicked in. Her tone grew more and more pathetic: “I just wanted to reward Cubby. You guys are making me feel so awful. After all, every dog’s body is different.” [Exactly, every dog’s body is different!] [To the person upstairs: I just got pregnant with your child. Wire me a million dollars in child support immediately.] [Are you sick in the head?] [After all, everyone’s body is different.] Blair was completely immersed in her own little world until Ashton wandered over. She stared at the treats in Ashton’s hand. “Ashton, they won’t let me feed Cubby his favorite chocolate. Could you share some of your treats with me?” I rubbed my temples. If the sky falls, we don’t have to worry, Blair’s mouth will hold it up. I patted Blair on the shoulder. “If I ever need someone to shovel BS, I’m calling you. You’re a natural.” 8 Glancing at Ashton again, I linked arms with Zoey and walked away. “Ashton.” Blair tugged at his shirt. “You’re the best.” Ashton looked like he was facing a lethal threat, swatting at the goosebumps rising on his arm. He looked like he was breaking down. “No, listen, I’m calling you ‘Sis’, okay? Don’t ruin me. My journey to win my wife back is already long and hard. If you pull this crap, I’m going to completely lose my cool persona.” [Is the guy who said this was scripted earlier still here?] [LMAO, how do you know it’s not a script now?] [Even a hundred years after you’re cremated, your mouth will still be intact and arguing.] I hadn’t even walked two steps away. My ears heard everything perfectly, and my mouth twitched uncontrollably. Ashton hurried to catch up with us. “Harper, you have to believe me. I graduated top of my class from the Loyal Boyfriend Academy. You know this. I have a certificate.” I pulled Zoey along, walking even faster. Save me, I’m terrified. [So Ashton was holding it in all day yesterday?] [No, seriously, if no one clarifies this, I’m going to start spreading rumors.] [If you spread rumors, I’m going to have to repeat them.] [Then I’m going to believe them.] Ashton had completely let himself go. He followed close behind me the entire time, neither too close nor too far. Zoey’s Corgi, Sugar, seemed to really like me, constantly rubbing against my pant leg intentionally or unintentionally. Zoey herself seemed to have found her tribe, sticking to me like glue. Being a girl is great. You can casually cuddle with pretty girls and get a positive response. After spending some time together, I realized Zoey really liked to launch herself into my arms like a hungry tiger. And once she was in my arms, she’d always sneak in a few extra nuzzles. [I have something to say, but I don’t know if I should.] [Did Zoey ever say she plays for the other team?] [Blind man, you’ve discovered the blind spot.] [What do I do? I just love shipping people everywhere.] Ashton saw the live chat and launched himself like a rocket. He grabbed Billi, who was eating nearby, and charged straight at me. He pulled the little Corgi out of my arms and shoved Billi’s massive, fluffy head in instead. Ashton said, “Billi absolutely insisted on finding you.” Billi still had crumbs of freeze-dried meat on her mouth. She looked at me, utterly confused, and let out a pitiful little awoo. Zoey pouted and leaned on my shoulder. “Why is Ashton being like this? He’s not mad at my Sugar, is he?” Ashton frowned. “Does your family sell green tea too?” I tsked. “What nonsense are you talking about?” I’m putting my cards on the table. I have a double standard. 9 Ashton grabbed Billi in his arms. “Fine, fine, is this how we’re playing it? “My poor Billi. Abandoned by her ruthless mother. She finally finds her real mom, only to discover her mom is out here flirting with everyone, surrounded by flowers, without a care in the world! “My poor Billi has been so depressed she’s only eating three meals a day! She’s so hungry she gained two pounds recently! How am I supposed to survive as a single father?!” Me: “…” This guy was acting unhinged again. I think I saw Zoey looking at me, her eyes asking: Is there something wrong with Ashton’s brain? Right then, Blair chimed in: “Harper, how can you act like this? If it were me…” I raised my hand, cutting off Blair’s words. I made an inviting gesture. “Come on, the floor is yours. Start your performance.” Zoey followed suit, holding a leash in one hand and my hand in the other. “Then we’ll leave it to Ms. Sterling. We’re going.” Blair clearly hadn’t expected me to refuse to play by her script. Ashton let go of Billi. He looked up at Blair and asked, “Did I ever offend you somewhere?” Blair: “I…” [Honestly, I feel like Blair has just been doing confusing things this whole show.] [I’m un-stanning. This is too cringe.] [But Blair didn’t do anything wrong! If the guy I liked liked someone else, I wouldn’t be able to handle it either.] [Did~ nothing~ wrong~] Facts proved that all of Blair’s vague online insinuations were entirely orchestrated by herself. The fans who shipped her and Ashton practically all jumped ship. Modern netizens really can turn any variety show into a dating show. After today’s shoot ended. I organized some cute photos of Milli from today. I arranged them into a 3×3 grid and posted them on Twitter to build some engagement. The hype had been high recently, and shortly after posting, I got a ton of comments. The most eye-catching one was the top comment, which had been furiously liked by everyone. The name Ashton Cole jumped out at me. He commented: “Billi misses you.” I pretended not to see it and ignored it. When I clicked back in after my shower. I saw the second highest-liked comment right below it. Ashton: “I commented on your post, and you won’t reply. It seems our relationship has reached the point where we need to avoid suspicion.” I mean, sometimes being a person on the internet is just a really helpless experience. After a moment of thought, I replied with an ellipsis (……).

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I was the only kept woman by the side of Manhattan’s most eligible billionaire heir. One day, I happened to glance at his phone and saw a suggestive text pop up: 【Baby, I’ll be waiting at our usual spot tonight~】 I froze for a split second, then calmly locked the screen for him. He works so hard every day; what’s wrong with him spending the night with another girl? 1 It’s not that I don’t know how to be jealous. It’s just… why should I? Everett Thorne has eight-pack abs, a model’s physique, and a face that could put Hollywood A-listers to shame. The line of women waiting to date him stretches from New York to Paris. As the “trophy girl” by his side, I might have to swallow a little pride, but the $150,000 monthly allowance is more than enough to numb the pain. With benefits like these, why would I ever want to rock the boat? A smart woman never goes looking for trouble. 2 Everett walked out of his study and lazily sat back down beside me. He pulled me close while I watched some mindless reality TV, then picked up his phone. Suddenly, his brow furrowed, and his fingers tapped the screen a few times. Using my 20/20 vision, I caught a glimpse of his reply: 【Understood.】 Aha. So the Prince of the Upper East Side won’t be coming home tonight? Doesn’t that mean I can finally go out and run wild? I suppressed my excitement and even played the part of the attentive partner by pouring him a glass of water. Everett didn’t drink it. Instead, he reached out with his long arm, pulled me into his lap, and leaned against me with lazy affection. His lashes were thick, his voice a low mumble: “I have a business dinner tonight. Do you want to come with me?” Uh… no. I’m not about to crash your wonderful night with whatever “trophy sister” sent that text. I don’t need to be a part of your kinky roleplay. I complained internally, but my voice was soft and submissive: “You go ahead. I’m not really cut out for those high-stakes events.” Everett gave a non-committal “Mm.” He didn’t push it. He just held me like he was cuddling a cat for a long while before grabbing his coat and lazily heading out. The second he was gone, I called my best friend and headed straight for the Meatpacking District. My friend, Sarah, teased me: “How did your keeper let you out tonight?” I scrolled through the club’s lineup, eyeing the new male DJ, and replied: “Everett’s busy tonight. I’m out to live my best life while the coast is clear.” Sarah laughed, but then she dropped a bombshell: “I heard a rumor that you and Everett are getting engaged.” My hand tightened around my martini glass. “What?” “Cody told me. He said Everett’s been making massive preparations for an engagement lately. It’s a huge deal. Man, if you actually landed the heir to the Thorne empire, you’re going to shock the entire social register.” I slowly sipped the rest of my drink. It took a long time before I could find my voice. “Forget them. I’m pretty shocked right now.” 3 When Sarah tried to dig deeper, I played it off and changed the subject. But my mind was racing. Everett and I had a signed contract. In public, we were the perfect, doting couple—I was the buffer to handle his overbearing parents and the socialites throwing themselves at him. In private, I was just the girl he kept in his penthouse. But now, he’s getting married? Who is he marrying? And does our contract still mean anything? My head started to throb. Everything felt like a mess. I downed two more drinks to numb the anxiety and headed to the dance floor to blow off some steam. As I stood up, I noticed a commotion at the entrance of the club. I instinctively looked over and saw a group of elite young men and women walking in. One man stood out—tall, refined, and radiating an effortless nobility. The strobing club lights hit his face—a face that looked like it had won the genetic lottery. The people around him were practically gravitating toward him. Wait. Holy crap. What is Everett doing here? Wasn’t he supposed to be at a “usual spot” with some girl? 4 Maybe my gaze was too intense, because Everett suddenly looked in my direction. My heart skipped a beat. I immediately ducked into the booth, barely breathing. Dead. I’m dead. The persona I maintained in front of him was “sweet, fragile little lamb.” If he sees me here, surrounded by smoke and tequila, he’ll probably blow a fuse. I glanced at Sarah, who was losing herself on the dance floor, and grabbed my bag, ready to bolt for the restrooms. Safety first. Survival is the priority. I figured the “Golden Boys” would head straight for a VIP lounge. I’d wait for them to pass, then slip out. But to my horror, they sat down at the massive booth right next to mine. They were laughing and carrying on. It was a high-energy scene that drew the eyes of every girl in the room. I crouched in the shadows, not daring to move. I only caught a glimpse when a server brought them a round of bottles. As luck would have it, Everett was sitting directly across from my booth. He was leaning in, listening to a woman next to him, his sharp profile perfectly defined. I pulled back further, screaming internally. How am I supposed to leave? If I stand up, he’ll see me instantly! Just as I was plotting an escape, I heard the conversation from the next booth: “Everett, not drinking?” “No. You guys go ahead.” “Ah, I get it. The ‘Missus’ hates the smell of booze on you, right?” “If you know, why ask?” Everett leaned back lazily, playing with his phone, a smirk playing on his lips. “You guys have fun. I’m going to give her a call.” “Oooooh—!” Amidst the teasing, I was utterly bewildered. Who is this “Missus”? I’ve never once complained about him smelling like alcohol. So it’s true. Everett has another girl. As I was lost in thought, the phone in my bag started ringing. In the relatively quiet booth area, it sounded like a siren. Damn it! Who is calling me right now?! I scrambled to grab my phone and silence it. When I saw the caller ID, I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. 5 Why was Everett calling me? I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t. I sat there trembling, waiting for the call to go to voicemail. Usually, at this time, I’d be in the shower. I hoped he’d just assume that. Sure enough, he didn’t call back. I let out a sigh of relief, peeking over the edge of the booth. Everett was staring down at his phone. His expression was unreadable. I didn’t have time to wonder what he was thinking. I needed to move. But just as I stood up to slip away, a loud, eager male voice boomed right next to me: “Hey, beautiful! Did you drink too much and fall? “Let me help you up.” I stayed hunched over, waving him off frantically, whispering: “No, I’m fine. Go away.” The guy didn’t take the hint. “Come on, you shouldn’t be alone. Your face is all red.” It’s red because I’m panicking, you idiot! I didn’t want to deal with this “nice guy” creep. I just wanted him to vanish before he attracted Everett’s attention. I looked at him coldly. “I don’t need your help. Please leave.” The guy smirked. “Oh, playing hard to get? Why so cold? Let’s just have some fun.” He reached out to grab my arm. The commotion started drawing eyes. I was desperate. Then, a cold, familiar voice rang out from behind the guy: “Didn’t you hear her? She told you to get lost.” I stiffened. I closed my eyes, wishing for the sweet release of death. It’s over. The world is officially on fire. 6 When Everett is angry, he has an overwhelming presence. It’s like the air around him drops twenty degrees. The creep muttered an apology and scurried away. The creep was gone, but I was still in the line of fire. I tried to scramble for an explanation, but Everett just looked down at me with dark, swirling eyes. He turned to his friends at the next table, said he had an emergency, and walked out without another word. I panicked. Forgetting Sarah, I chased after him. By the time we got to the car, Everett still hadn’t acknowledged me. I scrambled to buckle my seatbelt, and he slammed his foot on the gas. The acceleration pinned me to the seat. I didn’t dare say a word. I felt like I should just get on my knees and apologize. How am I supposed to fix this? Should I say I was possessed? Should I say I was just passing by? Is he going to fire me? While I was spiraling in fear, the car stopped. We were home. Everett got out, rounded the hood, and before I could even step out, he hauled me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “Everett… Everett!” My stomach was pressed against his shoulder, and it hurt. I struggled a little. He gave my backside a firm, sharp smack. “If you have that much energy left, you’re staying up all night with me.” “…” My ears turned bright red. I went limp on his shoulder, not daring to move.

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