Category: English

On the day Zach finished his SATs, he came to pick me up from preschool wearing a pair of limited-edition $4,000 sneakers. My teacher, Miss Miller, stared at his shoes for a long time. She said Zach was barely an adult himself and that she didn’t feel safe letting two kids walk home alone. She insisted on walking us back. I was about to nod blindly when the Barbie doll in my arms suddenly spoke inside my head: [Right before you reach your house, Miss Miller will fake a sprained ankle. She will ask Zach to help her inside and let her stay the night.] [At midnight, she will crawl into Zach’s bed. Tomorrow, she will lie and say Zach assaulted her.] [Your brother will be expelled from school. She will take your house, your family’s savings, and kick you all onto the streets to freeze to death.] My mind went completely blank with fear. By the time I finally processed what the doll said, we were already at the gates of our gated community. Suddenly, Miss Miller gasped and leaned against the wall, clutching her ankle. Her face was pale. “Chloe, my foot hurts so bad I can’t walk. Can I please stay at your place tonight?” I squeezed Zach’s hand tightly, remembering the last thing the doll had whispered: [In the end, she will sell you to human traffickers. You will never see your mom, dad, or brother again!] I was terrified of bad guys, and even more terrified of losing my family. I gathered all my courage and screamed: “Miss Miller! We are going on a road trip tonight! We won’t be home!”

Miss Miller’s face froze for a second. But then she forced a quick smile. “Summer break hasn’t even started yet, sweetie. Why are you going on a trip now?” “Besides, I didn’t get any text from your mom about this…” “Chloe, are you just saying that because you don’t want to help me?” “Lying isn’t what good girls do, you know.” Being accused of lying made me feel so frustrated. I screamed louder: “I am not lying! Mom said Zach got a perfect score on his SATs, so we are going to New York to celebrate!” Hearing this, Miss Miller’s eyes lit up. She wasn’t angry at all. Instead, she turned to my brother and gave him an understanding smile. “I guess Chloe is just too excited for the holidays and wants to skip school. That’s why she’s making up excuses.” Zach frowned slightly. His tone was firm. “Chloe doesn’t lie. If she doesn’t want to go to school, there must be a reason.” Then, he knelt down, ruffled my hair, and asked softly: “Tell me, Chloe. Are you feeling sick? Or did someone bully you at school?” Looking at my gentle brother, the terror of being sold by traffickers finally turned into hot tears. I buried my face in his chest, grabbing his shirt, and sobbed, “There’s a bad person at school… they want to sell me…” Zach’s face went pale instantly. He held me tight and glared at Miss Miller with suspicion. Miss Miller clearly didn’t expect me to say that. Seeing Zach staring at her, she quickly forced a laugh. “She… she must be talking about the anti-abduction drill we did at school!” “Yes, that’s it! Since summer break is coming, the school organized a safety drill so kids know how to stay safe outside.” “Chloe is just sensitive. She probably got scared.” “You know how kids are. They get confused easily.” Zach was still worried, but Miss Miller sounded so confident, and I was crying too hard to speak clearly. He could only pat my back to soothe me. “Don’t worry, Chloe. The bad guys in the drill aren’t real. No one is going to take you away.” Then, looking at Miss Miller, who was sweating from her “painful” ankle, he sighed apologetically. “Your ankle looks really bad. Why don’t you come inside and rest for a bit? I’ll help you find some ice and medicine once I calm my sister down.” Hearing Zach believe her instead of me, I lost it. I let out a loud wail. I pushed Zach’s hand away and threw myself straight onto the ground. “It is real! It’s not a drill! I’m going to get stolen! I don’t want to go home! No, no, no!” Zach was shocked by my meltdown. People walking by started staring at us. Zach’s face turned beet red. He was completely stuck. “What’s going on here? Why is Chloe crying like this?” A familiar voice came from behind us. It was Mom, just getting home from work. Zach looked like he had just seen his savior. He quickly explained everything to her. After hearing it, Mom patted Zach’s shoulder. Only then did Zach’s tensed shoulders finally relax a bit. “You did great, honey. Don’t worry. Since Chloe is scared, we won’t wait for Dad to get off work. We’ll leave for our trip right now.” She picked me up, gently wiping my tears, and smiled. “We will stay far away from any bad guys. Dad will meet us there later, so Chloe doesn’t need to be scared at all.” After calming Zach and me down, Mom turned to Miss Miller with an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry for the drama, Miss Miller. Let me drive you home instead.”

Hearing this, a flash of panic crossed Miss Miller’s eyes. “Mrs. Miller, I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t bother you guys.” “But… the apartment I rent is an old walk-up. I live on the fourth floor. With my ankle swollen like this, I can’t climb the stairs at all.” She let out a bitter sigh. “And calling an ambulance for a sprained ankle feels like such a waste of medical resources.” “It’s fine. I’ll just sit on the bench in the park tonight. I’ll probably feel better tomorrow morning…” Mom looked at Miss Miller’s pale face, feeling conflicted. Miss Miller was my homeroom teacher. She always talked to the parents and seemed to care a lot about the kids. Leaving her on a park bench overnight felt too cruel. So, Mom knelt down and tried to negotiate with me. “Chloe, how about we push our trip to tomorrow morning? Can we do that for Mom?” I hugged my doll tightly. Every cell in my body was screaming “no”. But I didn’t know how to argue back. My parents had always taught me to be polite and kind. My tantrums earlier had already used up all my courage. I had to think fast. If I couldn’t kick her out, I would just stick to my brother like glue! “Okay…” I pouted, pretending to give in. Then, I spun around and wrapped myself around Zach’s leg like an octopus. “But Zach has to sleep with me tonight! I’m scared of the bad guys!” Seeing my red, puffy eyes, Zach couldn’t bear to say no. “Deal,” he said immediately. The heavy rock in my heart finally dropped. As long as I slept in the same bed with Zach, that evil teacher wouldn’t be able to crawl into his bed! However, Miss Miller almost lost her smile. She forced a dry laugh. “Oh, Chloe, you’re a big girl now. Why are you still so clingy to your brother?” “Are you afraid of the dark? The other kids at school might laugh at you if they find out.” Normally, this peer pressure would work on me. But right now, I felt like a superhero fighting a supervillain. I wasn’t falling for her tricks! “I’m not afraid of the dark! I just want to sleep with Zach!” I buried my face in Zach’s leg. “If you don’t let Zach sleep with me, I won’t let you stay at our house!” That shut Miss Miller up completely. No matter how angry she was, she could only close her mouth in embarrassment. That night, I got my wish. I crawled into Zach’s bed with my doll. Zach leaned against the headboard, reading me a bedtime story in his soft voice. I pretended to listen, but my ears were straining to hear any noise outside the door. I promised myself I would keep my eyes open all night to protect my brother. But a five-year-old’s body simply couldn’t hold out. Under the soothing sound of his voice, my eyelids grew heavy, and my brain turned to mush. Before I knew it, I fell fast asleep. But my sleep was far from peaceful. In the middle of the night, I felt the air turn freezing cold. It felt like a pair of icy hands was pulling my arms, trying to drag me out of the warm bed. In my dream, I was caught by human traffickers. I couldn’t move. I screamed for Zach to save me, but my body felt like it was made of lead. I couldn’t wake up. I couldn’t make a sound. The terrifying face of the trafficker came closer and closer. I was shaking with fear. “AHHHHHHH!!!” Suddenly, a piercing shriek woke me up completely.

I pouted, turning around to cry to Zach. But my hands grabbed nothing but air. Zach wasn’t next to me. Even my doll was gone! I rubbed my blurry eyes and looked around. Pink wallpaper, stuffed animals everywhere… This was my own bedroom! How did I get here? I was sleeping with Zach last night! I didn’t even put on my shoes. I ran as fast as my short legs could carry me straight to Zach’s room. When I reached the door, the scene inside shocked me. Miss Miller was sitting on Zach’s bed, holding the blanket tightly up to her chest. Her hair was a mess, and her face was covered in tears. Zach was standing by the bed in his pajamas. His face was ghostly pale, and he looked completely lost. “I really don’t know… I woke up and she was just in my bed… I didn’t do anything…” Zach’s voice was shaking with pure terror and despair. Just then, loud footsteps came from the hallway. Dad had just gotten back from his business trip. Still holding his briefcase, looking exhausted, he rushed in when he heard the scream. The moment Dad stepped into the room, he saw the chaos. Zach saw Dad and tried to explain immediately. “Dad, let me explain! I was sleeping with Chloe last night! I swear I didn’t touch her!” Dad froze. Then he saw me standing by the door, having just run out of my own room. Dad’s face turned dark. He rushed forward and slapped Zach across the face. “Your sister just came out of her own room!” “You did something this disgusting, and you’re using your little sister as a shield?!” Dad was shaking with rage, pointing his finger at Zach’s nose. “I didn’t! I really slept with Chloe!” Zach held his cheek, his eyes filled with tears of injustice. The noise was so loud that the neighbors from upstairs and downstairs started gathering around. Our front door was open, and people were whispering and pointing at us. “Isn’t that the kid who got a perfect score on his SATs? Wow, you really can’t judge a book by its cover.” “I used to tell my kids to be like him… Oh my god, being smart doesn’t mean you have morals!” “How did his parents raise a monster like this?” I screamed at Miss Miller on the bed. “Zach is not lying! I slept with him last night! She sneaked in by herself!” Hearing my words, Miss Miller didn’t panic. Instead, she cried even harder. She gasped for breath, sobbing. “Chloe… I’ve always been so nice to you. How can you lie to protect your brother like this…” She pointed at Zach, wailing: “He is a six-foot-tall guy! I’m just a kindergarten teacher.” “My ankle is injured. How could I possibly fight him off?” The neighbors murmured in disgust. “What is wrong with this family? The brother does something terrible, and they teach the little sister to lie at such a young age!” “That poor teacher. She just needed a place to stay…” Being pointed at and called a liar by so many adults was too much for a five-year-old. Tears poured down my face. I didn’t know what to do. No one believed me. I knew I was holding Zach’s arm last night. Why did I wake up in my own room?

Suddenly, I remembered the candy Miss Miller gave me last night. She said Mom bought it for me, so I ate it without thinking. I couldn’t quite connect the dots, but I felt like that candy was the reason. On the bed, Miss Miller was screaming for someone to call 911. A few minutes later, the police arrived. Facing the officers, Miss Miller clutched the sheet and wept hysterically. Because this happened inside our house, there were no security cameras. But the disheveled bed, the torn clothes, the hair on the pillow… All the physical evidence pointed directly at Zach. The police officer frowned, took some notes, and turned to the crowd of neighbors outside. “Did anyone hear anything unusual last night?” Mrs. Gable, a lady from down the hall, stepped forward and said hesitantly: “Officer, I did hear a woman screaming last night.” “It was so loud that I actually came over and knocked on the door.” “This young man opened the door and said he was playing a horror game. He said the screaming was from the TV.” “I told him to turn it down and went back to bed.” “Now that I think about it… it must have been the teacher screaming for help.” Hearing this, Zach’s eyes widened in horror. He waved his hands wildly. “I didn’t! I wasn’t playing any games! I didn’t even open the door last night! I never talked to you!” “Why are you still lying?!” Mrs. Gable snapped back, looking disgusted. “We live in the same building. Why would I lie to get you in trouble if you didn’t do it?” I was sweating with anxiety. The police didn’t believe me. Dad was too angry to see the truth. My only hope was Mom! Mom was the smartest adult I knew. If she was here, she would kick this bad woman out. But I looked through the crowd and couldn’t find her. Then I remembered—Mom always went to Whole Foods early in the morning for groceries. She wasn’t back yet! Seeing that all the “evidence” and “witnesses” were against Zach, and Zach had no way to prove his innocence, the lead officer sighed. He walked over to Zach and said coldly: “Son, you’re going to have to come down to the station with us for questioning.” At that exact second, Mom burst through the door. She was out of breath, and her grocery bag was empty. She pushed through the crowd, stood right in front of Zach and me, and said firmly: “Officer, I guarantee my son was sleeping with his sister last night. He couldn’t have done this.” I nodded like crazy behind Mom. “Yes! And I dreamed of being taken by bad guys, and then I woke up in my own room!” Miss Miller wiped her tears and said: “Of course you’re going to defend him, you’re his family…” “Even if they slept together at first, his brother could have easily carried Chloe back to her room before coming back to assault me!” “Chloe, did you see anyone else in the room last night besides your brother?” Miss Miller’s question stumped me. Seeing me silent, the officer shook his head and reached for his handcuffs to take Zach away. Suddenly, Mom looked at me and asked: “Chloe, where is your Barbie? Didn’t Mom tell you to never let that doll leave your side?” I froze. I looked down at my empty hands. I realized that since I woke up, I hadn’t seen my doll. Mom saw my reaction and nodded. She walked straight into Zach’s room. A moment later, she came out holding my Barbie. She held the doll up and said coldly to everyone: “Who says we don’t have cameras in this house?” “The eyes of this doll are the cameras!”

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Five years of marriage, and everyone in the Sterling family knew the truth: I was just a placeholder for Julian’s first love, Chloe. When I finally handed him the divorce papers, I only had one condition. “Send me to Paris to study art.” Julian flipped through the agreement twice. A mocking smile played on his lips. “So, you’re finally dropping the act.” He stood up, walked over to me, and pinched my chin, forcing me to look up at him. “She studied art, so now you want to study art. She went to Paris, so you have to go to Paris. Seven, are you really that obsessed with me, or are you just desperate to become her?” I didn’t answer. The next day, he had his driver pick me up, saying everything was arranged. But the car didn’t stop at an airport. It stopped in front of a colorful, tacky storefront in a suburban strip mall: “Happy Hippo Kids’ Art Class”. The receptionist at the front desk smiled warmly and handed me a tiny, paint-splattered apron. “Hi there! Are you here to drop off your kid?” “No,” Julian’s voice cut in from behind me. He stepped up, hands slid casually into his tailored suit pockets, his tone dripping with lazy condescension. “She’s the student.” The other parents nearby shot me weird, pitying looks. Julian leaned down, his breath brushing my ear, his voice barely a whisper. “A beginner’s class. Just your level, babe.” I didn’t make a scene. Instead, I turned around and pointed to the framed oil painting hanging in the lobby window. Specifically, at the signature in the bottom right corner. “Julian, I sold that exact painting ten years ago for seventy thousand dollars.” I looked him dead in the eye. “Do you still think I’m the one copying her?”

“Seventy thousand?” Julian glanced in the direction of my finger. His eyes lingered on the canvas for less than half a second before his face contorted into a cold, deeply contemptuous sneer. “Seven, are you seriously making up lies this pathetic just to get my attention now?” He stood there, towering over me, a hand in his pocket. He looked down at me like I was a misbehaving pet. There wasn’t a shred of doubt in his eyes—only absolute certainty. He was certain I was lying. He was certain I was just a jealous, vain woman acting out. “I don’t care about seventy grand,” he whispered, leaning closer. “If you love this painting so much, I’ll have my assistant buy it and hang it in your bedroom.” “But you don’t need to embarrass yourself by claiming you painted it.” The receptionist couldn’t help but let out a soft snort. She covered her mouth, her eyes darting between Julian and me with blatant mockery. “Mr. Sterling, your wife has quite a sense of humor,” she said, tapping a glossy brochure. “This piece, “Drowning”, is just a high-quality print our franchise bought. The original masterpiece is in the private collection of a billionaire in France.” “If your wife could paint at this level ten years ago, why is she signing up for a class that teaches you how to hold a brush?” The parents waiting in the lobby started whispering. Dozens of mocking, amused stares pricked my back like needles. I stood there silently. I didn’t defend myself. Ten years ago, when I painted that piece, I signed it with my real name, “Seven”. But nobody in this superficial circle knew that. And Julian was the last person who would ever care. For the past five years, his entire world had revolved around Chloe. I was just the quiet, obedient shadow he kept around to fill the void. Looking at Julian’s handsome but cold face, a wave of nausea hit me. “Cat got your tongue?” Julian straightened up, adjusting his flawless platinum cufflinks. “Embarrassed because you got caught?” I swallowed the dryness in my throat and kept my voice flat. “If you don’t believe me, Julian, forget it.” “I’ll figure out the Paris trip on my own.” His brows furrowed instantly. My indifferent attitude clearly annoyed him. “On your own?” He let out a sharp chuckle, as if I’d just told the funniest joke of the year. “Seven, you’ve been married to me for five years. You haven’t swiped anything but my black card. You’re telling me you have a backup plan?” “What are you going to use? Your imaginary seventy-thousand-dollar art money?” Right then, his phone buzzed in his pocket. It was a custom ringtone. Chloe. The harshness in Julian’s eyes melted away in an instant. The cold aura around him vanished. He answered the call right in front of me, his voice suddenly soft enough to drip honey. “Chloe? What’s wrong?” “Your stomach is hurting again? Did you take your meds?” “Okay, don’t move. I’m coming over right now.” He hung up, and the warmth vanished from his face. When he looked back at me, he was the cold billionaire again. “Chloe is sick. I don’t have time for your childish tantrums.” He pointed at the apron on the desk, his voice leaving no room for argument. “Since you’re already here, go inside and take the class. Behave yourself.” “And stop trying to compete with Chloe. You’re not her, and you never will be.” Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked out of the mall. Through the glass doors, I watched his Maybach disappear into the heavy rain. I looked down at the registration form in my hand, slowly tore it into tiny pieces, and tossed them into the trash can. “Um, ma’am? Or… student?” the receptionist called out, her voice dripping with attitude. “Are you taking the class or what? The beginner session starts in two minutes, and we don’t do refunds.” I ignored her, turned around, and walked toward the elevators. Outside, the rain was pouring, cold wind whipping against my face. Standing under the awning, I pulled out my phone and scrolled to a number I hadn’t dialed in five years. My fingers shook slightly. It rang for a long time before a sleepy, deep voice answered. “Who is this?” I took a deep breath. “Zach. It’s me.” The line went dead silent. For thirty seconds, all I heard was a sudden crash on the other end, like someone had knocked over a desk of art supplies. “Seven?!” Zach’s voice leaped an octave, thick with utter shock. “You’ve been MIA for five years, and now you finally decide to call?” Looking at the blurry neon lights of the city through the rain, my eyes stung. “Zach,” I whispered. “You told me once… that there was an open slot for the residency program at the Paris Academy of Fine Arts.” “Does that offer still stand?”

“Seven, did you finally get a brain transplant?” Zach’s voice crackled through the phone, his frustration vibrating across the Atlantic. “Five years ago, you got the prestigious scholarship, and then you dropped out overnight for some guy. You literally vanished. Do you know the Professor almost burned down your studio because he was so pissed?” I leaned against the cold brick wall, staring at my shoes. “I know.” “I’m sorry, Zach.” Zach scoffed, but his tone softened. “Save it.” “I’ve kept your slot open. But Seven, you haven’t touched a paintbrush in five years. Can you even still paint?” I lifted my right hand. My fingers were long and pale. I curled them into a fist. Five years ago, trying to make Julian the homemade soup he’d been craving, I had accidentally knocked over a pot of boiling water. There was still a coin-sized scar on the back of my hand. Julian had been hungover at the time. He had simply tossed his credit card at me and told me to drive myself to the ER. Staring at the scar, my voice was quiet but steady. “Yes, I can.” “Good,” Zach said, getting straight to business. “Get your portfolio ready. Email me the digital files by next week.” “Also, you’ll need a financial guarantee for the visa and living expenses. At least a hundred and fifty thousand dollars.” “Is that cheap husband of yours going to pay for it?” I bit my lip. “No. I’ll figure out the money myself.” “Fine. Let me know when you’re ready.” After hanging up, I stood in the cold wind for a long time. It was 9:00 PM by the time I got back to the Sterling mansion in the Upper East Side. The house was fully lit. The moment I pushed the door open, a high-pitched, sweet laugh echoed from the second floor. Chloe. My hand froze on my keys. I kept my face blank as I walked upstairs. At the end of the hallway, I stopped. It was my old studio. Three years ago, Julian had complained that the smell of turpentine gave him a headache. He had ordered the maids to throw all my art supplies into the basement, turning the room into a storage space. Now, the door was wide open. Chloe was wearing a silk slip dress, gesturing gracefully to a couple of movers. “Yes, throw all those old papers away. They’re just collecting dust anyway.” She pointed at a dusty, cardboard blueprint tube in the corner, her face twisted in disgust. Julian was leaning against the doorframe, a glass of red wine in his hand, watching her with soft, indulgent eyes. “You don’t need to lift a finger, Chloe. Your stomach just flared up. Let the movers handle it.” Chloe pouted playfully. “But I want my new yoga studio to be perfect, Julian!” She turned around and finally noticed me standing at the top of the stairs. The smile on her face froze for a second before turning into a picture-perfect expression of sweet innocence. “Oh! Seven, you’re back!” She walked toward me like she owned the place, her voice dripping with fake apology. “I hope you don’t mind. The room was just sitting here empty, so I thought I’d turn it into a yoga space.” “Julian said you don’t paint anymore, so I assumed it was fine.” I looked at her fake smile. It was hilarious, really. She was the “white moonlight,” the girl Julian actually wanted. Even if she burned the mansion down, Julian would probably write her a check for the matches. “Do whatever you want,” I said, not even looking at her as I walked past. I went straight to the corner. That cardboard tube contained the only sketch my late mother had left me. As I reached down to grab it, a polished leather shoe stepped firmly onto the tube. Julian. He stared down at me, his eyes dark with irritation. “Where have you been?” “You smell like the street.” I tried to pull the tube, but his foot didn’t budge. “I went to make plans,” I said, meeting his gaze calmly. Julian’s brows knitted. “What plans?” “My plans to go to Paris.” The room went dead silent. Then, Julian let out a low, mocking laugh. He handed his wine glass to a maid, grabbed my wrist, and pulled me up to face him. “Seven, are you addicted to playing victim?” “You didn’t embarrass me enough at the kids’ art studio today, so now you’re bringing the drama home?” He glanced down at my damp, ruined skirt. “Are you trying to show me how pathetic you are? Like a wet, homeless dog that can’t survive without me?” I yanked my wrist back, my voice completely flat. “Let go.” Julian’s eyes narrowed. He hated defiance. Seeing the tension, Chloe quickly slipped her arm through Julian’s, speaking softly. “Julian, don’t be mad at Seven.” “She’s just insecure because I’m back. She’s saying this because she loves you.” She looked at me, her eyes filled with the pity of a winner. “Seven, you really don’t have to act out like this.” “If you really want to learn how to paint, I can ask some of my friends in the art scene in France. I can get you into a nice, easy hobby class.” “After all, we all need to know our limits.” I looked at Chloe’s perfect, fake face and felt absolutely nothing. I didn’t even want to argue. I leaned down again and yanked the tube out from under Julian’s shoe with all my strength. The cardboard was crushed and covered in dust. I wiped it clean with my sleeve and held it tight against my chest. “Don’t worry about me, Chloe,” I said, walking past them toward the master bedroom. “My life has nothing to do with either of you anymore.”

The next morning, I packed up all my expensive jewelry. One hundred and fifty thousand dollars was a lot of money. Over the past five years, Julian might have been stingy with his affection, but he had never been cheap with material things. The jewelry he bought me was worth a fortune. Wearing sunglasses, I walked into the biggest pawn shop in Manhattan. The appraiser’s eyes nearly popped out when I emptied my bag onto the velvet tray—diamond necklaces, emerald rings, platinum bracelets. “Ma’am, these are top-tier pieces. Are you sure you want to liquidate everything?” I nodded. “Yes. The faster, the better.” The appraiser grabbed his loupe and started examining the pieces. Half an hour later, he gave me a number. It was below market value, but more than enough for my visa guarantee. “Two hundred thousand. Cash or wire.” “Wire is fine,” I said without hesitation. “Great. I just need your ID and the bank routing info.” I handed over my driver’s license and my Chase card. The manager typed on his computer for a minute, and then his expression turned incredibly awkward. He slid the card back to me. “I’m sorry, ma’am.” “This card has a hold on it. The primary account holder has flagged it, and we cannot process any transactions or deposits to this account.” My heart stopped. It felt like an invisible hand had gripped my throat. “A hold?” I took the card, pulled out my phone, and opened my banking app. A bright red banner flashed across the screen: “[Account Suspended. Please contact primary account holder].” My fingers clamped around the phone until my knuckles turned white. Only Julian had the authority to do this. He was cutting off my escape route. “Do you have another account, ma’am?” the manager asked gently. I shook my head, swept the jewelry back into my bag, and walked out. Outside, the New York sun was blazing, but I was freezing. Julian was forcing me. Forcing me to bow my head, to crawl back to him, and to keep playing the quiet, obedient shadow. My phone rang. The screen lit up with his name. I stared at it for a few seconds before sliding to answer. “Why is my account locked?” I asked coldly. The sound of a lighter flicked over the line. Julian’s voice came through, sounding lazy and completely in control. “Finally decided to call me?” “Seven, I thought you were supposed to be tough.” He exhaled a breath of smoke. “Taking the jewelry I bought you to a pawn shop? Nice try.” I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “Those were gifts during our marriage. Even in a divorce, I’m entitled to half.” “Divorce?” Julian scoffed, his tone suddenly dropping into ice. “Seven, let’s get one thing straight.” “As long as I don’t sign those papers, you’re not going anywhere.” “Even if I keep you like a dog in the backyard, you’ll stay and wag your tail.” I closed my eyes, fighting the urge to throw up. “What do you want, Julian?” “It’s simple,” he said casually, as if talking about the weather. “Chloe saw that pink diamond necklace you have. She wants to wear it to the charity gala next week.” “Bring the necklace to her, apologize for your attitude yesterday, and make nice.” “Do that, and I’ll double your credit limit.” I opened my eyes, a dry laugh escaping my throat. That pink diamond necklace was made from the stones my mother had left me. I had just had them reset. Julian didn’t know the history. To him, it was just an expensive trinket to throw at his mistress. “And if I say no?” “No?” Julian’s voice went completely cold. “Seven, be realistic. Without my money, you are nothing in this city.” “You want to go to Paris? Let’s see how far you get when you can’t even buy a plane ticket.” He hung up. Listening to the dial tone, an overwhelming exhaustion washed over me. This was the man I had loved for five years. Arrogant, selfish, and convinced that money could buy anyone’s dignity. I stood on the bustling street corner, the sun beating down on me, yet feeling utterly cold. After a long time, I dialed Zach’s number again. “Zach.” “Can you… lend me some money?” The line went quiet for a moment. Zach didn’t ask why. He didn’t mock me for being broke. He just sighed, his voice more serious than I’d ever heard it. “Seven, text me your routing number.” “Also, buy a ticket. I’ll meet you at Charles de Gaulle Airport tomorrow morning.” I gripped my phone tightly, a single tear slipping down my cheek and hitting my hand. “Okay.”

The day I went back to the mansion to pack was gray and overcast. I only brought a small, 20-inch carry-on suitcase. Inside were just a few changes of clothes and my mother’s keepsakes. I didn’t touch anything else. The designer dresses, the Birkin bags, the diamond shoes—they remained neatly arranged in the walk-in closet, like trophies of my five-year captivity. As I rolled my suitcase down to the lobby, the front door opened. Julian walked in. He stopped when he saw the suitcase, his eyebrows instantly drawing together. “What kind of tantrum is this now?” He walked over, glancing at my small suitcase with disdain. “Are you packing a lunch? Planning to run away for a few hours?” “Seven, the playing-hard-to-get act is getting old.” I stood there, calm. I pulled the signed divorce papers from my bag and held them out to him. “I’m not throwing a tantrum.” “I’m divorcing you.” My signature was already on the line. Julian stared at the papers, his face darkening instantly. He didn’t take them. Instead, he slapped them out of my hand. The sheets scattered across the marble floor. “I don’t have time for your high school drama.” He loosened his tie, walked over to the velvet sofa, and sat down, crossing his legs in his usual power stance. “Got a taste of what it’s like to be broke, have we?” He pulled a document from his leather briefcase and tossed it onto the coffee table. “Sign this, and I’ll pretend this week never happened.” I looked down. The title read: “Postnuptial Agreement and Asset Arrangement”. “What is this?” I asked. Julian leaned back, tapping his fingers on the armrest. “Chloe is moving in next month.” “I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable, so I need to give her the title of Mrs. Sterling.” He looked at me, completely devoid of guilt. “But you’ve been with me for five years.” “Sign this, and the penthouse downtown is yours. I’ll also give you thirty thousand dollars a month for living expenses.” “You can stay by my side. Nothing changes, except the legal title.” He paused, clearly thinking he was being incredibly generous. “As for your art, I’ll hire a private tutor for you. Nobody will laugh at you.” I stared at him, suddenly finding him terrifyingly alien. What did he think I was? A mistress he could just pay off and keep in a side apartment? I bent down, picked up the scattered divorce papers, and slammed them back onto the table, covering his ridiculous postnup. “Julian, you disgust me,” I said, highlighting every syllable. Julian’s face twisted in rage. He stood up abruptly, grabbing my chin in a tight, painful grip. “Don’t test me, Seven!” “Do you think you’re some pure, innocent saint? You climbed into my bed for my money five years ago.” “Don’t start acting like you have morals now.” Pain flared in my jaw, but I didn’t blink. “Believe whatever you want.” I looked at him coldly. “Just sign the papers.” Julian stared at me for ten long seconds. Suddenly, he let go, letting out a cruel, vicious laugh. “Fine.” “You want to be a martyr? Go ahead.” He snatched a pen, scribbled his signature on the divorce papers, and threw them right at my face. The sharp edge of the paper cut across my cheek, leaving a thin red scratch. “Take your trash and get the hell out of my house.” “Let’s see how long you survive out there without my money!” I bent down, picked up the signed papers, verified his signature, and slid them into my bag. Without a single glance back, I grabbed my suitcase and walked out of the mansion. The moment the heavy oak doors shut behind me, the sound of glass shattering echoed from inside the house. Three days later. Paris, Charles de Gaulle Airport. I walked out of the terminal, and the first thing I saw was Zach standing in the crowd, holding a massive, hand-painted sign with my name on it. He was wearing a loud, colorful silk shirt and designer sunglasses, looking incredibly extra. “Seven!” He waved like a lunatic, ran over, and snatched my suitcase. “Finally! The Professor was literally yelling in his office yesterday because he was so excited you were coming.” My eyes welled up. The heavy weight I’d carried for five years finally dissolved. “Let’s go,” I smiled. Looking up at the gray Paris sky, I let out a real, genuine laugh for the first time in five years. Meanwhile, back in New York, Julian was sitting in the first-class cabin of a flight to Paris. Chloe was leaning against his shoulder, her voice sweet. “Julian, I heard there are going to be so many famous gallery directors at the Paris Academy’s exhibition.” “I want to show them my work. What do you think?” Julian kept his eyes closed, but his mind kept flashing back to the sight of Seven walking away with her tiny suitcase. An annoying, persistent ache was blooming in his chest. “Sure,” he mumbled, completely distracted. He was absolutely sure Seven was crying in some damp basement right now, regretting her choices. In a few days, she’d be calling him, begging to come back. The Paris Academy’s exhibition hall was a masterpiece of modern design. Warm spotlights lit up the canvases, making the art glow. This was the biggest annual event in the European art scene. Anyone exhibiting here was considered a prodigy. Julian, wearing a custom Tom Ford suit, walked through the gallery with a bored expression. He didn’t care about art. If Chloe hadn’t begged him to come, he would never have set foot in a place like this. “Julian! Look at that painting!” Chloe suddenly gasped, pulling his sleeve and pointing to the center of the hall. A crowd had gathered there, with journalists flashing their cameras like crazy. Julian looked over. It was a massive, abstract oil painting with incredibly bold, violent colors. It was mesmerizing. The plaque next to it displayed the artist’s name in French and English. Julian’s eyes casually swept over it, but the moment he read the letters, his heart stopped.

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On our wedding day, the man made love to me three times in the backseat of the car. I lay there, weak and boneless, watching his back disappear through the entrance of the private club, my heart still sweet with happiness. Then I picked up the cuff link he had accidentally left behind and followed him inside. Before I reached the private room, I froze. My own breathless moans echoed from behind the door. “Julian, who would’ve thought Aria, the quiet little sweetheart, is such a wildcat in bed?” I stood rooted outside as the man who had whispered, *”A little louder,”* barely half an hour earlier lounged lazily against the sofa. “She really is,” Julian replied coolly. Someone turned to the man sitting beside him with a grin. “Hunter, making Julian pretend to be you and string Aria along for two whole years… that’s a hell of a move.” “And when she finds out even the marriage certificate is fake…” “…do you think she’ll lose her mind on the spot?” The blood drained from my face in an instant.

Aria’s POV On the day of our wedding, he took me three times in the back of the limousine. I was so thoroughly overwhelmed, crying and whispering between soft gasps, “Please, Julian… baby, stop.” Only then did he smile with deep satisfaction, kissing the tears from my swollen eyes. I lay slumped across the leather backseat, my body completely drained of strength, aching in every joint. Julian casually adjusted his designer suit, leaning down to plant a soft, lingering kiss on my lips. “I have a private celebration with the guys. Go home and get some rest first, okay?” I nodded weakly. I hated going to his parties anyway. His friends always looked at me with this strange, knowing smirk that made my skin crawl. I watched his tall, elegant figure disappear into the exclusive VIP club entrance, a sweet, warm flutter rising in my chest. For two years, from the moment our families set us up on that first date to our courtship and today’s wedding, he had spoiled me to the bone. Even though in the bedroom, he was always so insatiable, completely ignoring my pleas for mercy. My cheeks flushed at the memory. But I had to admit, he was incredibly skilled. He had endless stamina and a taste for variety. Over the past two years, he had introduced me to so many wild places and positions. He also loved recording videos. At first, I hated it. Every time he lifted his iPhone, I would turn my face away in sheer embarrassment. But he would hold me tight, whispering in his deep, husky voice, “When I’m away on business trips, I need to see you, Aria. Please?” And my heart would melt. I was always willing to make compromises for the man I knew as Hunter Vance. As the car door shut, I leaned back to rest. That was when I noticed the custom diamond cufflinks I had gifted him lying forgotten on the adjacent seat. Suppressing the ache in my lower body, I gathered my strength, grabbed the cufflinks, and headed into the club to return them to him. The VIP lounge door was left slightly ajar. Just as I reached out to push it open, a sharp, ragged gasp echoed from inside. I froze instantly. That was my voice. That was the sound I had made in the back of the limo just half an hour ago! “Jesus, Julian! Aria always acts like such an innocent, quiet girl in public. Who knew she was such a wild little slut in bed?” “Right? Listen to her moan. Damn, that’s hot!” “Come on, Julian, you’ve got a whole archive of these on your Snapchat, don’t you? AirPlay it! Let us all have a listen!” The room erupted into loud, malicious laughter. It felt as though a bucket of icy water had been dumped over my head. Every drop of blood drained from my face. Shocked, I peered through the crack at the man sitting in the center of the velvet sofa. Julian Carter?! Why were they calling him Julian? His name was supposed to be Hunter Vance! The man leaned back lazily, swirling a glass of whiskey, a cruel, mocking smirk playing on his lips as he tapped his phone screen. My voice was blaring right from his speakers. “She is quite wild,” he murmured indifferently, taking a slow sip. I could barely believe my eyes. Just thirty minutes ago, this exact man had held me in his arms, whispering, “Louder, baby, I love it when you scream my name.” The crowd laughed louder, turning to the cold, silent man sitting right next to him. “Hunter, you have got to admit, having Julian swap identities with you to play Aria for two whole years, that is the most genius scheme ever.” “Man, when she finds out her husband isn’t just a fake, but that fake marriage certificate you guys printed is a total sham, do you think she will lose her mind on the spot?” My brain exploded. A loud buzzing filled my ears, and my body broke into a cold sweat. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. Wasn’t my husband’s name Hunter Vance? Then who was the man they were addressing as “Hunter”? If that man was the real Hunter Vance… then who on earth had I been sleeping with for the past two years? What did they mean by “swap identities”? What did they mean by “fake marriage certificate”?! I stared, paralyzed, at the stranger sitting next to Julian. He had a cold, chiseled profile, and right beneath his ear was a very distinct, bow-shaped birthmark. In his hand, he was casually spinning a pink candy-shaped hair tie. My pupils dilated in absolute horror. I knew that birthmark. Twenty years ago, when I was still a little girl in the orphanage, there was an older boy named Seven who protected me. He had that exact birthmark. And that hair tie… it was mine. It was the parting gift I had given Seven the day his wealthy biological parents came to take him away. So… Hunter Vance was Seven?!

Aria’s POV The pieces of the puzzle began to violently crash together in my mind. Those men just said Hunter had Julian impersonate him. I remembered that on “Hunter’s” phone, there was always a pinned contact named Julian. So… The man I had actually married, the man who went to family matchmaking dinners, who courted me, who lived with me, was Julian Carter. He had used Hunter’s name to deceive me from day one. Hunter’s cold, mocking voice cut through my chaotic thoughts. “Just wait until Chloe’s birthday party. Julian, we’ll project Aria’s finest videos on the grand screen. I want the entire high society of New York to see what Christian King’s precious little sister really is behind closed doors.” “Let’s see if Christian still dares to look down on us.” “We are going to make sure Chloe gets her sweet revenge.” “Though,” Hunter turned to Julian, “Julian, man, thanks for putting up with this for so long.” Julian locked his phone with a click. “It was nothing.” “Chloe loved Christian so much back in college, but that arrogant bastard rejected her in front of the whole school, making her a laughingstock, and then had his military buddies humiliate her family. We had to settle this score for her.” The blood in my veins turned to solid ice. I clutched the door frame, gasping for air, my knees trembling so violently I could barely stand. The man who had shared my bed, comforted me when I was sick, and held me through the night for two long years… was a lie. His name was Julian Carter. When he kissed my eyes during our most intimate moments and whispered, “I love you more than life itself, Aria,” it was a lie. When he drove across New York in the dead of a winter blizzard just to bring me my favorite warm chestnut cake, it was a lie. The perfect husband, the perfect lover, the perfect romance… it was a meticulously crafted trap. But how? His eyes had been so warm. His passion had felt so incredibly real. How could anyone fake that for two years? I didn’t want to believe it. “Hey Julian, don’t keep them all to yourself! You only let us hear the audio. Let us see some of the videos too! You took tons of them, didn’t you?” “Yeah, Aria’s got a killer body. Let us appreciate it too!” Julian declined instantly, his voice sharp. “You’ll see them at the birthday gala. On the big screen. It’ll be much clearer then.” The group burst into another round of crude laughter. “Man, I can’t wait for Chloe’s gala in two weeks! Not only do we get to strip Aria of her innocent little mask, but we get to see the look on Christian’s face!” “Exactly! I’ve been waiting to see Christian King fall from his high horse. Every time my dad meets him at charity events, he comes home and lectures me, comparing me to him. It’s disgusting!” “Hey, after you guys are done playing with her, pass her over to us. Aria always acts so pure and untouchable, but she sounds like an absolute siren in bed. That kind of contrast must be insane to play with.” Hunter let out a disdainful chuckle. “You guys aren’t worried about getting dirty?” The vulgar jokes continued to pile up, suffocating me. Tears streamed down my cheeks, hot and bitter. I tightly pressed my hands over my mouth, desperate to stifle my sobs. My parents were national heroes, scientists who sacrificed their lives in a laboratory accident when I was very young. I grew up in an orphanage. Back then, when the older kids bullied me, Seven was the one who stood in front of me, taking the hits. When his parents found him, he held my pink hair tie tightly and promised, “Candy, I will come back for you when we grow up.” I still kept the wooden toy block he gave me in my most treasured jewelry box. Through all the hardships of my life, the memory of Seven had been my anchor, my hope. But I never could have imagined that when I finally met him again after twenty years, he would be the monster pushing me straight into hell. I kept screaming inside my head, This isn’t real. It can’t be. Julian’s voice cut through the noise, silencing the room. “That’s enough. Don’t bring up sharing her again.” “Why, Julian? Don’t tell me you’ve actually caught feelings for her?” Julian swirled his drink, his voice devoid of any emotion. “She’s just a toy. Why would I care about a toy?” “After the birthday gala, both she and Christian will never be able to hold their heads up in New York again.”

Aria’s POV I stumbled out of the club like a ghost. It was the dead of winter, and large snowflakes began to drift down from the dark sky, landing on my bare shoulders. Yet, I felt absolutely nothing. My body was numb; my entire world had shattered into a million sharp pieces. I was adopted by the King family. Christian was my foster parents’ only biological son, and he was my older brother. He had loved and protected me since we were kids. When I first arrived at the King estate, I was terrified, too scared to eat or play. My foster parents were renowned research scientists, practically living in their laboratories. It was Christian who took my hand, fed me, played with me, and introduced me proudly to everyone as his little sister. Chloe Albright was my high school classmate. She had been obsessed with Christian for as long as I could remember. At first, Chloe tried to get close to me just to grab Christian’s attention. But during our high school graduation prom, Chloe publicly confessed her love to Christian in front of the entire class. Christian rejected her flatly, and she was utterly humiliated. From that day on, Chloe became my worst nightmare. She put laxatives in my water bottle, making me a laughingstock at school. She stuffed dead rats into my locker to terrify me. She cornered me in the girls’ restroom, slapping my face, pulling my hair, and forcing me to drink dirty water from the floor. By then, Christian was already away at military academy. I didn’t want to worry my foster parents, so I endured it all in silence, never saying a word. But my silence only made Chloe more vicious. For five years, all through high school, Chloe bullied me mercilessly until I finally left for college in another city. I thought my nightmare was over. I had no idea I had never escaped. Two years ago, my foster father arranged a setup for me with the son of an old family friend from overseas. Hunter Vance. Or rather, Julian Carter pretending to be Hunter. On our first date, Julian was quiet but incredibly attentive. He asked about my food preferences and listened to my thoughts with absolute focus. Ever since Christian joined the special forces, no one had looked after me like that. Julian was different. When I was sick, he would show up at my apartment with medicine immediately, staying by my side all night. When I worked late at the news agency, he would wait downstairs in his car, sending me a text: “Here to take you home, sweetheart.” For two years, he treated me like royalty, placing me on a pedestal. I thought I had finally found the man I would spend the rest of my life with. But now, I knew it was all a staged performance. “Julian, you’ve got serious patience, acting the devoted husband for two whole years.” “It’s just acting. I tell her what to do, and she does it. Very obedient.” Their mocking words echoed in my head like a death knell. I clutched my chest, unable to draw in a single breath. I didn’t even know who to hate more. My legal fiancé, the real Hunter Vance, had never even shown his face to me. And the man I had slept next to for two years, I only just learned his real name today. No wonder Julian hated it when I called him “Hunter” in bed. Every time I cried out “Hunter” in his arms, he would grip me harder, pushing deeper, forcing me to call him “baby” or “Julian” before he would let me go. I staggered into a quiet bar down the street, ordering shot after shot, pouring the burning liquid down my throat. My mind became hazy, but the agonizing pain in my heart only grew sharper. Hours later, I stumbled back to the empty villa we called home. I dug out our marriage certificate from the safe, my hands trembling as I inspected it. The paper was cheap, the seal imitation. It was such a lazy forgery. But of course. If the man was fake, how could the marriage certificate be real? Everything was a lie. My tears soaked the fake document, smudging the names written on it. Suddenly, my phone rang. It was Helen, my foster mother. I respected my foster parents deeply, though we had grown distant over the years due to their endless research projects. “Mom,” I whispered, forcing down the sob in my throat. “Aria, sweetheart, how are you?” Helen’s voice was naturally quiet, but warm. “I’m doing great, Mom. Don’t worry about me.” I wiped my tears quickly. “How are you and Dad?” “We are doing well,” Helen said, her tone softening. “Aria, your father and I have made a decision. We’re getting older, and I’m retiring next month. We want to move abroad to Australia and live a quiet life by the coast.” “That’s wonderful, Mom! When are you leaving? I’ll come to the airport to see you off.” I fully supported them. They had given their lives to science; they deserved peace. “Aria, we want you to come with us. Your news agency has an international bureau in Sydney. You can request a transfer.” She paused. “Talk it over with Hunter. You two can come together. You have no other family left in New York besides us, and we don’t feel comfortable leaving you behind.” Hunter? My foster mother had no idea that the “Hunter Vance” they had introduced to me was currently plotting to destroy their son and daughter. If this were yesterday, I would have refused. I would have insisted on staying in New York with Julian. But now, there was absolutely nothing left for me here. “Okay, Mom. Let’s go together.” “Really?” Helen sounded overjoyed. “Wonderful! We’ll handle your visa and transfer paperwork. We leave in two weeks.” I hung up the phone and looked around the grand villa. This was supposed to be our marital home. I had designed every corner of it myself. I had handpicked every piece of furniture, every plate, and every curtain. I thought I was building a sanctuary of love. Instead, I had built a beautiful stage for my own execution.

Aria’s POV After hanging up, I collapsed onto the bed. Having spent hours wandering in the freezing snow, my body began to shake uncontrollably, and my forehead burned with a raging fever. I didn’t even have the energy to reach for a blanket. I drifted into a dark, heavy sleep. I don’t know how much time passed before I heard the click of the front door. Heavy footsteps approached, and my bedroom door was thrown open. “Aria, why are you still in bed at this hour?” Julian didn’t even notice my flushed, feverish face. He grabbed my arm and pulled me out of bed. “Chloe is back. Get up and come greet her.” I stumbled, nearly falling over as he dragged me into the living room. The sight before me instantly cleared my hazy mind. Standing in our living room were Chloe Albright and Hunter Vance. “Chloe heard we got married and flew back from London just to congratulate us,” Julian said, his voice softening unconsciously as he looked at Chloe. “And this is Chloe’s fiancé… Julian Carter.” I looked at the man introduced as “Julian Carter,” who was actually the real Hunter Vance, and quickly looked away. Hunter’s icy gaze swept over me with utter disdain, but when he turned to Chloe, his expression melted into pure tenderness. I clenched my fists. After all these years, Chloe was standing in my house, while I was shivering with a high fever, looking pathetic and weak. “Aria, long time no see.” Chloe stepped forward, wrapping her arm around mine with fake intimacy. She leaned in, whispering in my ear, “Still as pathetic as ever, I see. You look like a stray dog no one wants.” I yanked my arm back and took a step away, my eyes filled with defensive anger. Julian’s brow furrowed, clearly displeased by my reaction. Chloe let out a soft, delicate cough, looking incredibly frail. “The flight was so cold, and my stomach is acting up. Julian, could you ask your maid to make me some hot oatmeal?” “Aria, go make it,” Julian ordered immediately. “Aria’s cooking is great, Chloe. You’re in for a treat.” I stared at Julian. “I have a fever. I’m sick.” Julian’s face darkened instantly, his eyebrows knitting into a tight scowl. “Stop throwimg a tantrum. Chloe flew all this way for us. You didn’t even go to the airport, and now you won’t even make her a simple bowl of oatmeal?” Of course. In Julian’s eyes, because Chloe was here, my sickness was just a dramatic act. I let out a bitter, silent laugh. My body was entirely drained of strength. I didn’t want to waste my breath arguing with them, so I turned and walked into the kitchen. When the first bowl of oatmeal was served, Chloe took a bite and frowned. “It’s too salty.” I took a deep breath, took it back to the kitchen, and remade it. The second time, she said it was too bland. The third time, she complained about the texture. By the fifth time, Chloe walked into the kitchen alone, shutting the door behind her. “So, you know now, don’t you? About Hunter and Julian swapping places to play you like a fool?” Chloe smirked, her eyes gleaming with malice. “Then you must also know that Hunter is your precious ‘Seven’ from the orphanage, right?” She leaned closer, her voice dripping with venom. “He promised to protect you forever, yet he doesn’t even recognize your face now.” I kept my head down, ignoring her, but my hands began to tremble violently. “Want to know a secret? He thinks I am Candy. He’s been treating me like a queen all these years because of it.” Chloe’s laughter grew wilder. “I wonder… if Christian finds out his beloved little sister has been shared by two men for two years, will he lose his mind? Will he break his precious military codes and rush back to save you?” Before the words fully left her mouth, Chloe suddenly threw herself backward. She grabbed the pot of boiling oatmeal and poured it over her own hand. The skin of her wrist turned instantly raw and red. “Ahhh!” she screamed. The two men burst into the kitchen. Hunter rushed forward, catching Chloe in his arms, inspecting her hand with intense panic. “What happened? Chloe, are you okay?” He whipped his head around, glaring at me with murderous eyes. “I didn’t know Julian’s wife could be so vicious.” Julian’s face was even darker. Whether it was anger or jealousy over Hunter holding Chloe, his eyes were filled with disgust as he looked at me. “Aria, you and your brother bullied Chloe back in school, and she never held a grudge.” “I can’t believe that after all these years, you’re still this cruel!” Julian’s voice was freezing. “Go out to the terrace. Stand in the snow until you learn how to apologize.” I stared at him, my last shred of hope dying. “I didn’t push her.” “I have a fever. My knees can’t take the cold. You know this, Julian.” Julian knew about the chronic joint damage in my knees. He used to protect them carefully, never letting me get cold. For a second, Julian’s eyes flickered with hesitation. Even Hunter’s brow furrowed slightly when he heard about my knees. But Chloe chose that moment to whimper softly, “Julian, please, it’s fine. Aria clearly doesn’t want me here. I should just leave.” “Julian!” Hunter barked, warning his friend. Julian’s expression turned completely cold. “Take her coat. Put her out on the terrace.” Two burly bodyguards stepped forward. Without a word, they stripped off my heavy coat and dragged me toward the glass doors, shoving me out onto the freezing, snow-covered terrace.

Aria’s POV The snow was still falling heavily. Standing on the freezing stone floor in nothing but my thin indoor clothes, the cold bit into my bones, and my knees began to ache with a blinding, white-hot agony. When we were kids at the orphanage, Seven had fallen through thin ice into a freezing pond. I had jumped in without a second thought, dragging him out with all my might. Since then, I had suffered from chronic joint pain. Seven knew how much I feared the cold. Back then, he would wrap his oversized coat around me. “Candy, as long as I’m here, I’ll never let you freeze.” I also remembered Julian holding me on winter nights, whispering, “My sweet girl is so sensitive to the cold. I’ll never let you freeze.” Yet now, they had pushed me into the freezing winter night themselves. While they sat inside the warm, heated living room, whispering comforting words to Chloe. My heart died completely. The last spark of warmth in my soul was extinguished. I don’t know how long I stood there before my legs finally gave out, and I collapsed into the snow. When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in a hospital bed. The doctor looked at me with deep sympathy. “The chronic damage in your knees is severe. If you don’t take care of them, you might lose the ability to walk properly.” I nodded silently. The door opened, and Julian walked in, his face filled with worry and regret. Seeing him, the doctor scolded, “Are you her husband? How could you let her get this cold? Her joints cannot take this kind of trauma!” Julian looked incredibly guilty. He sat on the edge of the bed, pulling me into his arms and kissing my lips softly. “I’m so sorry, Aria. I didn’t mean to leave you out there for so long. It’s just… Chloe was in so much pain, and we had to rush her to the ER, so I…” I closed my eyes, refusing to look at him. So he simply forgot about me. Julian squeezed my hand. “You guys were classmates. Let bygones be bygones. You’re my wife now. You need to be magnanimous and kind, not petty and resentful.” My eyes remained dead and hollow. On the day I was discharged, Julian drove me home, only for us to find Chloe already settled in our villa. She was wearing my silk pajamas and my slippers, lounging on our sofa like she owned the place. I froze at the entrance. How could he? How dared he let Chloe move into our home? But Julian acted as if it were completely normal. “Aria, the Albright family has gone bankrupt, and Chloe has nowhere to go. Staying at a hotel is so lonely, so I invited them to stay with us for a while.” Hunter walked down the stairs, casting a cold, indifferent glance at me. “Is Julian’s wife really that fragile? A little cold and she ends up in the hospital?” Julian explained, “Aria has a chronic knee injury from childhood. She fell into freezing water and is extremely sensitive to the cold.” Hunter’s eyes flickered. He seemed about to ask something. But Chloe quickly interrupted, “I’m tired, Hunter. Let’s go rest.” Hunter’s expression softened. “Go on up, Chloe.” They walked up the stairs together, hand in hand. I watched them disappear around the corner of the hallway, listening to their bedroom door click shut. Forcing down the agony in my chest, I walked silently back to my own room. Julian saw the way I looked at Hunter. His face darkened, and he followed me into the bedroom, locking the door. He crawled onto the bed, pinning me down and biting my earlobe with a possessive grip. “Aria, your man is right here. Stop staring at another man’s fiancé, understand?” Anger flared in my chest. I wanted to scream the truth in his face, to tear off his mask of lies. But I forced myself to hold back. I had more important things to do. “I understand,” I whispered. Seeing my obedience, Julian’s mood seemed to improve. He stroked my hair. “We are married now, Aria. You need to drop your bad habits. Just be a good, obedient girl, okay?” I lowered my eyes, hiding the utter disgust in them. His hands began to slide under my clothes. “Aria…” My body went stiff as a board, a wave of nausea washing over me. “I’m on my period. It’s not convenient.” Julian frowned slightly, but eventually let go of me. “Fine. Just let me hold you.” Before long, the sound of his steady, heavy breathing filled the room. I opened my eyes, waiting until I was absolutely sure he was asleep before gently slipping his phone from the nightstand. I had never looked at his phone before, and I didn’t know his passcode. I tried my birthday. Error. I tried his birthday. Error. Finally, I typed in Chloe’s birthday. The screen unlocked.

Aria’s POV I let out a cold, silent laugh. Opening his photo album, I selected the hundreds of private videos and photos of me, hit delete, and permanently cleared the trash folder. Once it was done, I finally breathed a long sigh of relief. Next, I opened his Snapchat and found their private group chat with his wealthy friends. I scrolled up through the chat history. For two years, they had been mocking me behind my back. “Julian, Aria looks so pure and untouchable. How did you get her into bed so fast?” “Just a few sweet words and some flowers, and she lays down and does whatever I want.” I clenched my teeth, scrolling further. “Julian, make sure you don’t accidentally get her pregnant. You’ll never get rid of her then.” “I’d never let her carry my child. She isn’t worthy.” Every sweet memory, every gentle promise, and every midnight whisper shattered into worthless, ugly shards of glass. But the text that truly chilled me to my core was from Hunter: “Once you’re done playing with her, destroy her. If she tries to cling to you, I don’t mind disposing of her myself.” The boy who had promised to protect me at all costs now wanted to strip me of my dignity and throw me to the wolves. I was completely, utterly done. I exited the group chat and opened Julian’s direct messages with Chloe. “Chloe, Aria was begging me not to go on the business trip today. I told her I had an urgent board meeting.” “Thanks for putting up with her, Julian. Once the truth is out, you won’t have to deal with her disgusting presence anymore.” I scrolled up. On my birthday last year, Julian told me he had an emergency meeting in Chicago and left after giving me a cheap brooch. In reality, he had flown to Miami to spend the weekend on a yacht with Chloe. And when my grandmother passed away. I had called him dozens of times, crying, but he kept saying he was stuck in crucial negotiations in London. According to their chat logs, he was actually spending Christmas with Chloe in Paris. Not a single tear fell from my eyes. I put the phone back exactly where it was and stared at Julian’s sleeping face. This face, which I had loved with every fiber of my being, now filled me with nothing but absolute disgust. I never wanted to look at it again. The next morning, I was choked awake by thick smoke. I ran to the window and saw Chloe in the backyard, burning something in a metal bin. Once I realized what she was burning, my heart stopped, and I ran downstairs. “Stop it! Stop!” I screamed, rushing at her to grab the items from her hands. “Give them back to me!” It was a stack of old polaroids. They were the only photos I had left of my biological parents. Most of them had already been turned to ash inside the fire bin. Only a few remained in her hands. Chloe giggled, stepping back. “Give them back? Sure. If you give me the wooden block.” So that was why she had moved in. She wanted the wooden toy block Seven had given me, the ultimate proof of identity. “I lost that block years ago! Give me the photos!” “Lost? Oh, what a shame!” Chloe threw the remaining photos directly into the roaring flames. “You better hope you really lost it.” I ignored the heat, reaching my hands directly into the fire to pull out the burning photos. Chloe whispered maliciously, “Because even if you find it, Hunter will only believe you stole it from me!” Just then, the sound of a car arriving echoed from the driveway. Seeing this, Chloe quickly scratched her own wrist against the metal bin, then pretended to struggle with me over the fire. “What are you doing?!” Julian and Hunter rushed into the backyard, immediately pulling Chloe away from the fire. “It’s my fault… I thought they were just old, useless papers, so I wanted to clean up. I didn’t know they were Aria’s things…” Chloe sobbed hysterically. She wasn’t burned at all, but the scratches on her wrist looked red and dramatic. Hunter’s face darkened as he inspected her wrist. “Did she do this to you?” I was on my knees, frantically pulling the last half-burnt photo out of the ash, my hands covered in painful, blistering burns. I couldn’t care less about their drama. Furious, Hunter kicked me hard in the shoulder, knocking me flat onto the frozen grass. My blisters popped, and blood began to seep through the dirt. Julian stared at my bleeding hands, his brow furrowing slightly, but seeing Chloe crying so pitifully, he snapped, “Aria, Chloe didn’t do it on purpose, and she tried to help you save them! How could you put your hands on her!” I screamed through my tears, “She did it on purpose! Those were the only photos of my parents!” Hunter remained completely unmoved. “A dead person’s photo isn’t more important than a living person’s well-being. I can’t believe Christian’s sister is such a classless bitch.” Julian felt humiliated in front of Hunter. “Guards! Lock her in her room. She is not allowed to leave this house without my permission!” With that, the two men rushed Chloe inside to treat her scratches. I clutched the half-destroyed photo with my bleeding, raw hands, letting out a shattered laugh that turned into a quiet, painful sob. It was fine. In just a few days, everything would be over. And I would make sure every single one of them paid the price. I dragged myself back to my room and began to pack. The clothes Julian had bought me. I took scissors and cut them into shreds, hanging them back in the closet. The jewelry he gave me. I smashed them with a hammer, placing them back in their velvet boxes. The watches, cufflinks, and ties I had gifted him. I destroyed them all and put them back in his drawer. Our framed photos were torn into tiny pieces and left in a neat pile on his desk. The villa still looked beautiful and warm on the outside. But on the inside, it was already a graveyard.

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On the eve of my wedding, I caught my fiancé, Caleb, and my bridesmaid, Serena, tearing each other’s clothes off. The two of them didn’t even look guilty. Caleb looked me straight in the eye and said, “I don’t love you, Lyra. I only proposed to get my hands on your father’s throne as the leader of the Goldvein Pack.” I ripped up our marriage contract on the spot and told them both to get the hell out of my sight. As soon as the sun rose, I packed my bags. I swore I would never set foot in the Bramblefall Pack’s territory again. But just as my convoy crossed the border, we were blocked. Kian, the Alpha of the Ashford Pack, was standing right in the middle of the road with his men. This was the Wolf King—notorious for being cold, ruthless, and completely uninterested in women. He looked at me, his deep voice sending shivers down my spine. “Lyra, I’ve loved you from afar for years. I don’t want to take advantage of your pain, but I want to give you a marriage with dignity and all the respect you deserve. Marry me. Be the Luna of the Ashford Pack.” Heartbroken and exhausted, I nodded. Our alliance shook the entire North American werewolf community. Everyone said we were a match made in heaven. Kian was incredibly attentive. He gave me everything I could ever ask for. But after three years of marriage, I still wasn’t pregnant. Kian told me that because of his powerful Alpha lineage, conceiving was naturally difficult. He told me not to rush. To have a baby of our own, I drank bitter herbal medicine every single day for three years. Even when I was throwing up so hard I could barely stand, I never complained. Finally, in our third year, I got a positive pregnancy test. The whole pack celebrated. Kian treated me like I was made of glass. I genuinely thought I had stepped out of the shadows of my past and found real happiness. Until my eighth month of pregnancy. I went to the clinic for a routine checkup and overheard Kian talking to the doctor in the private consulting room. “Alpha Kian, the fetus is developing perfectly. The due date is in two weeks.” “But I still don’t understand… Luna Lyra is your true mate. Why did you insist on transferring your and Serena’s embryo into her womb?”

Kian’s voice was completely nonchalant. “Serena is just a low-ranking Omega. Her status is too low. A child born from her would never be respected enough to inherit my title as Alpha.” “Only by carrying the baby in Lyra’s womb can this child secure the inheritance.” “This way, Serena will be taken care of for the rest of her life.” I leaned against the freezing wall, all the strength draining from my legs. It was all an act. Three years of devotion, three years of sweet words… all a trap. A sick, twisted trap. Hearing footsteps approaching, I scrambled into the nearby emergency stairwell. Pressing my back against the cold concrete, I covered my mouth to muffle my sobs. Only after the hallway fell completely silent did I drag my numb body downstairs. The lobby was bustling with pack members. I stood there, my eyes burning with unshed tears. It didn’t take long for Kian to find me. He rushed over, his face pale with anxiety and concern. “Lyra! Why did you come down by yourself? I told you to wait for me in the room while I talked to the doctor.” “You weren’t answering your phone. You scared me to death.” He leaned down and kissed my forehead gently, his eyes filled with warmth. It was the exact same loving gaze he had given me for three years. But looking at his face now only made me feel icy cold. “I was looking for the restroom and got lost,” I said quietly, my voice surprisingly steady. Kian chuckled, tapping my nose playfully. “My little directionally-challenged Luna. What am I going to do with you?” Once we got into the car, he buckled my seatbelt and brought something up, trying to sound casual. “By the way, Serena’s birthday party is in a few days. The pack elders and our allies will all be there. What happened back then was years ago, and she’s just doing administrative work for the pack now. So…” “Sure, I’ll go,” I replied calmly. “I didn’t make a scene years ago, and I won’t start now. Don’t worry.” Kian visibly relaxed, a bright smile spreading across his face. “I knew my wife was the most reasonable woman. I’m so lucky to have you.” I turned my head to look out the window, watching the trees blur past to hide the coldness in my eyes. Right. Reasonable. He only married me because I was “sensible” enough to quietly carry his and his mistress’s baby, didn’t he? For the past three years, every time I choked down that bitter medicine, he would hold me tightly and say it was okay if we didn’t have kids. But then, he would “accidentally” mention how cute other Alphas’ pups were. Every single word was designed to make me willingly suffer for him. Late that night, after Kian fell asleep, I took his phone and crept into the study. The passcode was Serena’s birthday. The wallpaper was a photo of Serena in a white dress standing under a cherry blossom tree. I opened his photo gallery. It was packed with photos of her, taking up almost his entire storage. The very top photo was a group shot from years ago when I first introduced Serena to Caleb and Kian. I remembered Kian looking annoyed back then, complaining about taking “useless group photos.” But now, both Caleb and I had been cropped out of the picture. Only Kian and Serena remained. It was the same for all the other photos. Even the photos Serena posted on Instagram with Caleb—Caleb’s face was cropped out, leaving only her smiling face. Pack ribbon-cuttings, charity galas, and private dinners I had never heard about. In every single photo, his eyes were locked onto Serena with a tenderness that made my stomach turn. With shaking fingers, I opened their Snapchat history. He replied to her messages instantly. Always. He sent her huge sums of money on Venmo—all ending in the digits of her birthday. Even the dates of our pack’s business contracts were aligned with her birthday. And our wedding day… it was on Serena’s birthday. I had asked him back then if we could change the date. He told me the elders had calculated it to be the most auspicious day for the pack, telling me not to overthink it. There was no auspicious day. Even though I was the one wearing the white dress, he had made her the true main character of our wedding.

In our three years of marriage, he never allowed me to call him during work hours. Once, when I had severe abdominal pain during my early pregnancy, I called him in a panic. He blew up at me, calling me immature and accusing me of ruining a major business merger. I felt incredibly hurt, but I forced myself to be understanding because of his heavy responsibilities. Now I realized it wasn’t about the business. It was just me. I was never the one who mattered. I let out a bitter laugh and closed the phone. I dialed the private number of Chloe, my best friend and the chief physician of the Goldvein Pack. “Chloe, arrange a procedure for me. I want to terminate the pregnancy in three days.” Three days. That was enough time to say goodbye to this lie. I set a countdown timer on my phone as a silent reminder. Returning to the bedroom, I stared at Kian’s handsome face as he slept peacefully. The cruel truth replayed in my mind like a horror movie. Tears soaked my pillow. I didn’t sleep a wink. The next morning, I sat at the dining table, waiting for him. He came downstairs with his usual warm smile. “Why are you up so early, babe? Pregnant women need their sleep.” I smiled and said nothing. Just then, my phone buzzed. He caught a glimpse of the word “Doctor” on the lock screen and frowned. “A message from the clinic? Is something wrong with the baby?” I turned off the screen and acted natural. “Nothing. Just spam. Data leaks are getting out of hand these days.” “Didn’t you say the mining investors are coming today? Hurry up and eat so you won’t be late.” He wrapped his arms around me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder. “I must have saved a kingdom in my past life to end up with a wife as perfect as you.” I forced a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “Wait until our anniversary, babe. I have a huge surprise for you.” “Great. I can’t wait.” He really went all out just to make sure I delivered his and Serena’s baby. But this marriage of lies was about to end. As soon as Kian left, I drove straight to the Pack Elders’ Council. The Elder in charge of marital contracts stood up immediately to greet me. When I told him I wanted to dissolve the marriage, his jaw dropped. He kept asking for the reason, asking how much territory and assets I wanted to claim in the divorce. “I don’t want a single dime,” I said calmly. “Just sign the papers. Effective immediately.” Under the Elder’s shocked gaze, I took the printed divorce agreement and left. On my way back, I stopped by Kian’s office building. Before I even reached the entrance, I heard the receptionists gossiping in the lobby. “Is that girl really the Alpha’s first love? She’s stunning. Better looking than most influencers.” “You have no idea. All the limited-edition jewelry and furs our pack imports are named after her. Last month, she casually mentioned she liked that million-dollar moonstone necklace, and the Alpha bought it at the auction without blinking.” “No wonder we keep renewing our unprofitable partnership with the Bramblefall Pack. It’s just so the Alpha can see his dream girl more often.” I didn’t stop. I walked straight up to the penthouse suite. The office door wasn’t fully closed. The muffled, heavy breathing coming from inside made me freeze. Peering through the gap, what I saw made my stomach heave. Clothes were scattered all over the floor. Serena was sitting on Kian’s mahogany desk, her pale legs wrapped tightly around his waist. “Kian, you’re the only one who truly cares about me. You knew carrying a baby would ruin my body, so you made Lyra do it for me. If I had to rely on Caleb, I don’t know how I’d survive.” Her voice was dripping with sweet triumph. Kian kissed her neck, gasping, “Does Caleb treat you well? Has he been hurting you?” “Oh, he’s obsessed with me. He gives me whatever I want. He just bought me that private island estate last week.” Kian’s voice carried a hint of bitterness. “As long as he treats you well, I can bear it.” Serena snuggled closer into his chest, her voice softening. “Kian, you’re so good to me. Since I can’t marry you, this is the only way I can repay you…”

Before she could finish, Kian pressed his lips hard against hers. I had never seen this side of Kian. With me, he was always disciplined, distant, and composed. But here, he was desperate, wild, and out of control. The disgusting scene made me want to throw up. I turned around and walked out of the building. Back at the villa, I ripped down every single wedding photo from the walls, smashed the frames, and threw them into the fireplace, watching them burn to ash. Kian didn’t come home that night. Serena posted a new update on her Instagram. Against a background of expensive silver fireworks, a pile of limited-edition designer bags and jewelry was on display. The caption read: [Someone decided to celebrate my birthday early. Just the two of us.] In the corner of the photo, a silver cufflink in the shape of a wolf’s head was visible. It was a custom-made coming-of-age gift I had personally designed for Kian. I let out a cold laugh and liked the post. Then, I turned off my phone and went back to packing my bags. The next morning, Kian finally called to explain. “Lyra, there was an emergency at the mine yesterday. I was working until 3:00 AM. It was too late, and I didn’t want to wake you, so I slept at the office.” “Yeah, it’s fine. Work comes first.” He let out a sigh of relief. “You’re the best, babe. I’ll have my driver pick you up for the birthday party tonight. Make sure to dress up beautifully.” After hanging up, I stood in front of the mirror. Looking at my exhausted face and my heavily swollen belly that could no longer fit into any elegant dress, I laughed at myself. Dress up? For what? No matter what I wore, I could never compete with the girl in his heart. That evening, the driver dropped me off at the birthday gala. Serena stood in the center of the crowd, her curves hugged by a stunning silver-white gown, surrounded by the luxury jewelry Kian had bought her. The moment I walked in wearing a loose, plain maternity dress, the surrounding wolves threw throwing-shade looks at me. Kian frowned, a flash of annoyance in his eyes. “Why did you wear that? I told you to dress up.” “None of my dresses fit anymore,” I said flatly. His expression softened slightly, but he quickly turned back to network with the Alphas of other packs. Serena walked over with a fake, sweet smile, grabbing my arm and offering to take me to the second-floor VIP lounge to rest. The moment the door closed, her fake smile vanished. She looked me up and down like I was a piece of trash. “Lyra, look at you. Pregnancy really ruined you, didn’t it?” “But I bet you didn’t know… the baby in your belly actually belongs to me.” “Kian couldn’t bear to see me suffer through pregnancy. He wanted our child to inherit the Ashford Pack legitimately, so he used you, the precious daughter of the Goldvein Pack, as a incubator.” “You should really thank me. If I hadn’t given you this chance, you wouldn’t even be the Luna of this pack. He wouldn’t even look at you!” I shook with anger. A sharp, stabbing pain shot through my abdomen, and my face went completely pale. A malicious glint flashed in her eyes. She grabbed a glass of red wine from the table and splashed it all over her own dress. Then, she let out a piercing scream. The door was kicked open. Kian rushed in and immediately pulled Serena into his arms. He glared at me, his eyes blazing with fury. “Lyra! What the hell are you doing?” “Serena was nice enough to bring you up here to rest, and you throw wine at her? You said you let go of the past, so why are you acting like a psycho now?” Serena whimpered in his arms, covering her face. “Kian, don’t blame Lyra… I just wanted to clear the air. I joked about wanting to be the baby’s godmother…” “But she… forget it. It was my fault for what happened with Caleb years ago. Just let this be my apology to her.” Kian’s face was terrifyingly dark. “Lyra, apologize to Serena. Right now.” I looked him dead in the eye. “Apologize? Shouldn’t the two of you be apologizing to me instead?”

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For the entire year after our daughter was born, my husband slept in the guest room. For our baby’s safety, I installed a 24-hour security camera in the master bedroom. One night, while my husband was in the shower, his phone kept buzzing on the nightstand with Snapchat notifications. I had never once snooped through his phone. But in that exact moment, possessed by some strange instinct, I picked it up. In his chat history, he sent a short clip from our bedroom security camera and a message to the same contact almost every single night after midnight. “Look, I didn’t touch her tonight.” “Don’t worry. I feel sick to my stomach just looking at her. Nothing is going to happen between us.” In those videos, there was me, in the middle of the night, hair messy, holding our crying baby and pacing back and forth in the dark bedroom. There was me, weeping with guilt and exhaustion because our baby was sick. There was even footage of me, half-dressed, breastfeeding in the dark. All of my late-night breakdowns, my loneliness, and my struggles were captured in high definition by that camera. The camera I bought solely to keep our daughter safe. In that moment, it became a double-edged sword piercing through my heart. It was a loyalty test my husband handed to another woman.

I had never checked Ethan’s phone before, so he naturally didn’t have the habit of deleting his chat history. I scrolled up, watching the timeline of their romance unfold. It started with: “Great job on today’s pitch. Get some rest.” Then it became: “What are you up to? I can’t really sleep.” Then came the confession: “From now on, you have a boyfriend.” And after that, it was video after video of me looking exhausted in the middle of the night, followed by Ethan’s reassuring promises. “Don’t worry, I’m sleeping in the study room. I didn’t touch her.” My hands shook so violently that I could barely hold the phone. So this was what it felt like to spy on your husband’s love story with another woman. The sound of running water in the bathroom stopped. I marked the messages as “unread” to hide my tracks, and calmly placed the phone back exactly where it had been. Ethan walked over to me, drying his wet hair with a towel. “Why are you still sitting in the living room? Not tired today, Chloe?” I looked up at him. From eighteen to twenty-eight, a whole decade. I had loved this man for ten years. Seeing that I didn’t answer, Ethan set his towel down and sat beside me. “Why do you look so pale?” “Are you feeling sick? Do you want to go to the clinic?” I took a deep breath. “Ethan, sleep in the master bedroom tonight.” Ethan had to work. After our daughter was born, to make sure he got enough rest, I was the one who suggested he move into the guest room. He was reluctant at first, but over time, we both got used to sleeping apart. This was the first time I had asked him to move back. Ethan froze, seemingly caught off guard by my request. “Why… why the sudden change?” His evasiveness made my heart sink a little further. Perhaps worried that I would get upset, Ethan softened his voice. “Chloe, you know the company is launching a major project right now. I’ve been exhausted lately.” “Plus, I have to work late on my laptop at night sometimes. You’re already drained from taking care of the baby, and Lily is still so small.” “I’m just afraid I’ll wake you guys up and ruin your sleep.” The warmth in Ethan’s eyes was so thick it could almost overflow, and every word he said sounded like it was purely for the sake of me and our daughter. It was the exact same caring husband I had known for the past ten years. If I hadn’t just seen his Snapchat logs, I would have believed every single word.

But now, I just wanted to scream in his face. Really? Is that really what you think? But it wasn’t the right time yet. I forced a smile. “Whatever you think is best.” The moment those words left my mouth, Ethan visibly relaxed. He stood up. “Alright, Chloe. I still have some emails to reply to. I’ll head to the study.” “Get some rest. It’s getting late.” I nodded and didn’t say another word. Only when the study door closed and he completely disappeared from my sight did my tensed shoulders drop. Huge tears splashed down my face. Ethan. Our daughter is only one year old. How could you bear to destroy this family? The next morning, Ethan left for work as usual. After I finished Lily’s morning feeding, I finally started to wash up and look at myself in the mirror. The woman in the glass still had the same face, but her eyes had lost their spark, worn down by the endless cycle of motherhood. Not only that. As a breastfeeding mom, I had barely stepped out of the house over the past year. I lived in baggy pajamas, spent my days makeup-free, and devoted every second of my life to our daughter. Like a flash of lightning, a phrase from Ethan’s chat history echoed in my mind. “I feel sick to my stomach just looking at her.” My chest tightened. I walked into the walk-in closet and sat down at the vanity. I hadn’t put on makeup in over a year. My hands were a bit clumsy, but the muscle memory was still there. Soon, the tired face in the mirror became radiant and striking. I wasn’t trying to prove anything to anyone. But if a woman sacrifices her life to build a home and raise a child, that sacrifice should never become a man’s cheap gossip. And it should never be the weapon a husband uses to humiliate his wife. After putting on a nice dress and doing my makeup, I dressed Lily up and called our driver. “Leo, can you come pick me up?” “I want to drop by Ethan’s office.” Before heading over, I bought boxes of pastries and a tray of iced lattes from Starbucks. Ethan and I had co-founded this design firm right after college. Many of the senior employees still remembered me. But after the company got on the right track and I got pregnant, I gradually stepped back from operations, leaving Ethan in full control. The moment I stepped inside, the receptionist recognized me instantly. “Chloe! What brings you here today?” “Oh my god, is this your daughter? She is absolutely adorable!” I smiled and asked Leo to bring in the drinks and pastries. “Go ahead and share these with everyone. You guys have been working so hard, take a quick coffee break.” The moment I walked into the open office area, the team gathered around me. “Chloe! We missed you so much!” “You always know how to treat us. I desperately needed a sugar rush today.” Inside his private office, Ethan heard the commotion. The second he opened his door, he saw me standing in the center of the crowd, holding our baby. I didn’t miss the flash of pure amazement in his eyes when he looked at my makeup and outfit. He walked over quickly and wrapped a possessive arm around my waist. “What are you doing here today, babe?” Several senior staff members gave us knowing smiles, turning to explain to the newer hires who didn’t know me. “You guys don’t know? This is our co-founder. She used to run the creative department here.” “Look at them. Don’t Chloe and Ethan look perfect together? And their daughter is so beautiful. Ethan really won at life.”

“Seriously, how does Chloe still look like a college student after having a baby? Her figure is perfect, and her skin is glowing. I’m so jealous.” I smiled and chatted with them, but my eyes were casually scanning the room. Feeling the arm around my waist loosen slightly, I followed Ethan’s gaze and landed on a young girl in the crowd who was forcing a smile. She had fair skin and a delicate, pretty face. An employee handed her a coffee. “Here, Maya, grab one. This is a treat from Chloe.” “By the way, you’ve been here less than a year so you haven’t met Chloe yet. This is our boss’s wife. Isn’t she gorgeous?” A flicker of humiliation crossed Maya’s eyes, but she forced herself to nod. I turned to look at Ethan beside me. He was still smiling, but the anxiety in his eyes was painfully obvious. We had been together for ten years. How could I not read him? I smiled at the team. “Alright guys, I just wanted to drop by and say hi.” “I’m going to take the baby home now so you all can get back to work.” Ethan walked me to the elevator and waved with a warm smile. Only when the elevator doors fully closed did his face disappear from my sight. The elevator went down to the first floor. The doors opened and closed, but I didn’t step out. I took a deep breath, and pressed the button for the 18th floor—where Ethan’s office was. The moment the elevator doors slid open again, I saw Ethan anxiously pulling Maya into the stairwell. Nobody noticed me. I softened my steps and crept toward the stairwell door. Ethan had Maya pressed against the wall. The usually calm, successful CEO was now in a complete panic. “Maya, please don’t get the wrong idea. I swear I had no idea she was coming today.” “Please don’t shut me out, okay? I’m literally losing my mind here.” The girl kept her head down. I couldn’t see her face, but I could see her tears splashing onto the floor. Ethan took a deep breath, looking completely helpless as he pulled her into his arms, whispering sweet nothings to comfort her. Listening to his soothing words, for some bizarre reason, I actually wanted to laugh. But as I smiled, hot tears slipped down my face. I knew Ethan. He was the kind of person who could never let a misunderstanding drag on to the next day. In the past, whenever I was upset, he wouldn’t care if I was yelling at him; he would immediately do whatever it took to make things right. “Chloe, my sweet Chloe, you know me.” “Please don’t ignore me. If you don’t talk to me, I won’t be able to sleep tonight.” I had anticipated this exact scene back in his office, which was why I had come right back up. But even though I was mentally prepared, seeing it with my own eyes made my heart sink into a dark abyss. I wiped the tears from my face, held my daughter tighter, and walked back into the elevator. After getting home and putting Lily to sleep, I sat frozen on the balcony sofa, watching the sky fade into darkness. When Ethan finally got home, I was still sitting in the exact same spot, motionless. Ethan walked over, knelt in front of me, and looked up at my face. “What’s wrong? Why haven’t you changed out of your nice clothes yet?” I blinked, finally focusing my eyes on him. After a long silence, I stood up and walked toward the closet. “It’s been so long since I put on makeup and wore a nice dress. I guess I was just reluctant to let it go.” Reluctant to let go of my daughter’s father, reluctant to let go of this home. Ethan didn’t catch the double meaning in my words. He chuckled, walked up behind me, and wrapped his arms around me. “My Chloe looks beautiful in anything.”

He leaned down, trying to find my lips. That movement instantly brought back the scene in the stairwell. I turned my head slightly, dodging his kiss. “I’m really tired today.” Ethan froze. I was the one who asked him to sleep in the master bedroom yesterday, and now I was rejecting him. But I had no energy left to deal with his emotions. I grabbed my pajamas and went straight into the bathroom. After showering, I walked out and saw Ethan sitting on the sofa, working on his laptop. I walked over to him. “Tomorrow is Friday. Let’s go to your parents’ place for dinner.” “They must miss the baby.” Ethan was focused on his screen and didn’t even look up. “Yeah, we should definitely visit. Wait for me at home tomorrow, I’ll leave work early to pick you guys up.” “Chloe, you always handle everything so well. I’m so lucky to have you.” I didn’t reply. I turned and walked into the master bedroom. A second before closing the door, I took one last, long look at Ethan. The man I had loved for ten years. Ethan. This is the last day. The next afternoon, before five o’clock, Ethan and I arrived at his parents’ house. Perhaps because Ethan had called them in advance, the delicious aroma of home-cooked food was already wafting from the kitchen. My mother-in-law happily took Lily from my arms. “You guys haven’t visited in two weeks! I missed Lily so much.” “If you hadn’t come this weekend, your father and I were about to drive over to your place.” I smiled and walked into the living room with Ethan. My father-in-law poked his head out from the kitchen. “Chloe, sit down! Dinner is almost ready.” “I made your favorite roasted salmon today. You have to eat a lot!” Seeing how warm they were, I could barely hold back my tears. Ethan and I met at our freshman orientation week. It was love at first sight for him, and he pursued me relentlessly. On the day he confessed his feelings to me under the sunset by the campus soccer field, I revealed my deepest scar to someone for the first time. “I’m an orphan, Ethan. I don’t have parents. I grew up in a foster home, and I’m only in college because of student loans.” “Don’t waste your time on me. A lot of families would mind my background.” Poverty and being an orphan were the heavy burdens of my eighteen-year-old self. I thought he would be scared away. Instead, his eyes filled with pure tenderness, and he stumbled over his words. “I like you. What does your family background have to do with us?” “And don’t worry about my parents. They’ve always wanted a daughter. They are the sweetest people ever, I promise. No pressure.” “Chloe, I just need to know one thing right now. Do you like me?” The eighteen-year-old boy’s face was flushed, filled with anticipation and shyness. As if under a spell, I nodded. And Ethan hadn’t lied to me. His parents were indeed the best people. Over the years, they never once looked down on me for being an orphan. They never took advantage of the fact that I didn’t have a family to back me up. They treated me like their own daughter and spoiled their granddaughter. But now. This family was about to fall apart. My mother-in-law was the first to notice something was off with my expression. While playing with Lily in her lap, she asked as if it were just a casual thought: “Are you two still sleeping in separate rooms?” I didn’t expect her to bring this up, and I froze. Ethan stammered, unable to find an answer.

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During the Super Bowl final, my husband, Marcus, suddenly suggested we make a bet. Watching the game reach its halftime mark, he said casually, “If the Eagles win, we get a divorce. What do you say?” The Eagles were leading by a landslide. They were bound to take home the championship ring tonight. I stared blankly at the TV screen, my mind drifting back to an Instagram post I had seen just this afternoon, uploaded by Marcus’s secretary, Hailey. [Mr. Marcus said that if the Eagles win tonight, he will finally take our relationship public. Perfect timing, because I have a little surprise waiting for him too! ] The “surprise” Hailey mentioned was a photo of a positive pregnancy test showing she was two months along. Remembering the sweet, pampering messages Marcus had left under her post to make her happy, I felt an overwhelming sense of exhaustion. With only one minute left on the clock before the game ended, I spoke in a quiet voice. “Okay. I’ll take that bet.” The game ended. Around us, the screams and cheers of our friends watching the game were deafening. Only Marcus and I sat in a silence that felt completely out of place. Marcus froze, looking at me in surprise. I looked at the final score on the screen. Then, I said softly, “You won.” He was always going to win this bet. I didn’t want to fight it anymore. “Marcus, I agree to the divorce.” In our five-year marriage war, he had finally won. On the drive back, Hailey sent Marcus a Snapchat voice note, her voice bubbling with excitement. “Marcus! The Eagles actually won! Does this mean we can finally tell everyone about us?” The voice note played out loud by accident. Every single word fell clearly into my ears. Marcus instinctively glanced at me through the rearview mirror. But he only saw me staring out the window, completely expressionless. He cleared his throat. “It was just a random bet before the game started. I was just trying to make her happy.” “But…” Marcus paused, his tone turning somewhat indifferent. “Since I’ve been with her for so long, I guess it really is time to marry her.” I gave a quiet “Hmm.” “Have your lawyer draft the papers.” Seemingly not expecting me to agree so easily, Marcus was slightly taken aback. Then he said, “There’s no need to rush it like this.” I met his gaze calmly. “We wouldn’t want to delay your big announcement. It’s better to sign the papers as soon as possible.” “After all, she’s been waiting quite eagerly.” I wasn’t lying. Hailey had been with him for three years, but she had never gotten the chance to show him off publicly. As long as Marcus and I were married, he couldn’t bear to let Hailey be labeled a homewrecker. Marcus stared at my face, trying to read my expression. But I was too exhausted. I just closed my eyes. I didn’t want to say another word. As we neared the house, Marcus suddenly said, “The power went out at Hailey’s place. She’s terrified of the dark. I need to go over and keep her company.” “Okay, just drop me off at the next intersection,” I said, not even looking at him. I was already too used to this. Marcus hesitated. Only after I stepped out of the car did he say, “I might not come back tonight.” I nodded, my face completely calm. “Okay.” After Marcus’s car drove away, I stood on the sidewalk for a while. My phone buzzed. It was a Snapchat message from my best friend, Amber. [Did you and Marcus leave early? I can’t find you guys at the party.] Marcus had hesitated for a long time about coming to this game tonight. Maybe out of guilt, or maybe remorse, he had still ended up coming with me. I replied to Amber. [Yeah, we’re getting a divorce.] Amber replied instantly. [Because of Hailey? Why won’t that girl just disappear?] [She’s just a secretary! Has Marcus lost his mind?] Maybe he had. I didn’t know when things had started to change between Marcus and me. When did it begin? Probably when his work got “too busy,” and we talked less and less. He stopped sharing the funny little details of his day with me. His replies to my messages took longer and longer. Strangely, the thought of divorce didn’t make me sad. Instead, I felt a weight lifting off my shoulders. We had known each other for eight years and been married for five. This marriage, which had kept me awake for countless painful nights, was finally coming to an end. Just then, a voice note from Marcus came through. “Go to bed early.” Marcus always had this habit of slapping me first and then giving me a sweet treat. I was used to this way of living, too. Back home, I collapsed onto the couch, feeling drained. I stared numbly at the empty house. I don’t know how much time passed before my phone lit up again. It was a notification for an Instagram update from Hailey. I clicked on it. It was her relationship “hard launch” post. [Congrats to the Eagles for winning the championship! Mr. Marcus won his bet. Family of three, finally together! ] The photo showed two hands overlapping on top of a pregnancy report. My hand automatically drifted to my own stomach. My own medical report from yesterday’s checkup was still sitting in my purse. Four weeks pregnant. It was my second pregnancy. I lowered my eyes, exited Hailey’s post, and pulled up my lawyer’s contact details. [Please draft the divorce agreement for me as quickly as possible.]

Marcus didn’t come home for three consecutive days. Hailey posted on her Instagram constantly. It didn’t look like she was sharing her life; it felt like she was specifically targeting me. Amber was absolutely furious after seeing Hailey’s posts. Her voice over the phone was shaking with anger on my behalf. “Who does this Hailey think she is? She’s literally just a side chick! Why is she acting so proud?” “Is Marcus blind? What does she have that you don’t?” I had asked myself that question many times. Was Marcus bad to me? No. He remembered all my preferences, my birthday, and every single anniversary. When I was sick, he would stay up all night taking care of me. If I casually mentioned wanting to go on a trip, he would drop everything to go with me. Whatever I wanted, he gave me. Could I say he never loved me? No, I couldn’t. I had seen the way his eyes used to light up whenever he looked at me. I took a sip of water and looked out the window. “Who knows? But it doesn’t matter anymore.” The divorce papers were ready. I was just waiting for Marcus to come back and sign them. I smiled to comfort Amber. “Alright, let’s just enjoy our dinner. Don’t let them ruin your mood.” When I texted Marcus, it was Hailey who picked up the FaceTime call. She had a sweet, mocking smile on her face. “Chloe, Marcus is making a prenatal meal for me right now. I’ll let him know you called when he’s done~” A prenatal meal? Marcus used to nag me about being too skinny and not eating right. To make sure I got enough nutrition, he used to cook almost every single meal for me himself. But after he met Hailey, he never had the heart for it again. His mind and eyes were now completely filled with Hailey. Before I could even reply, Hailey sent me a photo. It was a shot of Marcus from behind, wearing an apron and working busy in the kitchen. “Chloe, Marcus is really stretched thin right now.” “I told him what you said, and he knows about it now~” Marcus came back very late that night. Seeing me sitting on the couch, his hand paused as he took off his coat. “Why aren’t you asleep yet?” He acted as if nothing had happened. His tone was warm and familiar. “It’s really late.” My voice was flat. “I was waiting for you.” Marcus walked over, and I pushed the signed divorce papers toward him. “I’ve already signed. Since you cheated, we aren’t splitting the assets 50/50. I’ve had all our marital property calculated, including the money you spent on Hailey. I get seventy percent, you get thirty.” Marcus frowned. “Chloe, aren’t you being a bit too greedy?” Greedy? I actually felt it wasn’t enough. I didn’t want to argue with him. “You cheated. Me taking this much is only fair.” After a long silence, Marcus was the first to look away. He sat down, grabbed a pen, and signed his name on the papers. I took my copy immediately. Marcus opened his mouth to say something. But I turned around and walked upstairs without looking back. Halfway up the stairs, I stopped. I turned around to remind him, “We need to file this at the family court tomorrow morning.” “After all, there is still a thirty-day waiting period.” Marcus frowned deeply. He opened his mouth. “Are you really in that much of a rush?” I finished his sentence for him. “The sooner we file, the sooner your child stops being an illegitimate kid.” “Isn’t that what you want?”

Marcus froze. Seeing how calm I was, he hesitated before speaking. “You know about the baby?” Marcus let out a breath and tried to explain: “I only found out today what Hailey meant by her ‘surprise’.” “I honestly didn’t expect her to be pregnant.” There was nothing left to explain. I ignored him and was about to continue upstairs. Suddenly, a wave of intense nausea hit my throat. I covered my mouth and rushed into the bathroom. Marcus followed me in, looking frantic. He knelt down beside me, rubbing my back. “Why are you throwing up so badly?” I wiped my mouth and flushed the toilet. “Do we need to go to the hospital?” Marcus asked. I didn’t look at him. “No.” He hesitated for a moment. “If you’re not feeling well, we can put off the divorce for a bit.” I took a large step past him and walked out. “There’s no need to delay.” Back in my room, I pulled that crumpled pregnancy report from my purse. Two months ago, Marcus had come home drunk and slept with me, whispering Hailey’s name. I hadn’t expected to get pregnant from that. I paused, balled up the report, and threw it into the trash can. The next morning at nine, Marcus and I met outside the family court. After filing the papers, we had to wait out the thirty-day waiting period before we could officially get our divorce certificate. “I can drive you back,” Marcus said. I had taken an Uber here this morning. A bad car accident years ago had left me with severe trauma, and I hadn’t driven since. Just as he finished speaking, his phone rang. It was Hailey. I kept my head down, opening my Uber app. “Hailey, what’s wrong?” Marcus kept his voice low. But Hailey’s voice was loud enough to leak through the receiver. “Marcus, how did it go with Chloe?” Marcus told her about the thirty-day waiting period. Hailey giggled. “Okay, are you coming over later? The baby and I really miss you.” Marcus glanced at me. He hesitated, but that hesitation only lasted three seconds before he agreed. “Okay.” Marcus could never say no to Hailey. If Hailey wanted to see him, he would go. Hanging up, Marcus looked at me with some embarrassment. “About Hailey…” I cut him off, not even raising my head from my phone. “Don’t worry about it. Go to her.” My Uber had just arrived. I didn’t look back at Marcus as I opened the door and got into the car. On my way home, Amber sent me a link to a social media post. I clicked on it and realized it was Hailey’s. Amber’s voice notes were practically vibrating with rage. “Chloe, this Hailey is absolutely shameless! What does she mean by ‘there was no love left in your marriage’? What does she mean by ‘the one who isn’t loved is the real homewrecker’? Does she have no shame?” “I tried to call her out in the comments, but she blocked me.” “And Marcus, that spineless jerk…” Amber was truly hurting for me. By the end of her voice note, her voice was cracking. I comforted her before clicking back to read the post. The comment section was already flooded with thousands of replies. I saw the thread where Amber had argued with Hailey. Many internet users were dragging Hailey in the replies. As I scrolled down, I saw Marcus’s account had left a comment: [Our marriage was already broken, and we are currently in the middle of divorce proceedings. My girlfriend is not a homewrecker.] I stared at that sentence for a very long time. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. What a beautifully worded statement. Suddenly, I remembered the promise Marcus made the day he proposed. He had held up three fingers, looking up at me with tears in his eyes. In front of all our friends, he swore, “If I, Marcus, ever do anything to hurt Chloe, may God strike me down on the spot.” Back then, I never believed Marcus could ever betray me. The moment he slipped the engagement ring onto my finger, his eyes were red as he kissed the back of my hand. “You’ve finally gone from my girlfriend to my fiancée. My heart can finally rest easy.” Unfortunately, his promises were worthless. Changing my status from girlfriend to fiancée, and then to legal wife, didn’t protect me at all. He had still betrayed me. I gave Marcus’s comment a “like” and closed the app. Once I got home, I started packing my things. Marcus had designed this house himself, but I had handpicked all the furniture. I had too many things, and they ended up filling three large suitcases. I didn’t know when Marcus had come back home. Passing by the master bedroom, he stopped. His brows knitted together. “You’re moving out right now?” I lifted my suitcase, not sparing him a glance. “This house belongs to you. If I don’t move out, how is she supposed to move in?” “I never planned on having Hailey move in here,” Marcus said. “She’s perfectly fine living at her place. You don’t have to rush to move out.” “Chloe, you don’t need to throw a tantrum like this. You agreed to the divorce too.” My hands paused. I wanted to laugh. He had already won the bet he was destined to win, so why was he still acting like this? Marcus had wanted this divorce for a long time; I was the one who had been holding on too tightly. But seeing his protective attitude toward Hailey made me realize how tired I was. I was so tired that letting go actually felt like a relief. I looked at Marcus. “I’m not throwing a tantrum.” “I’m just making room for her.” Marcus remained silent, his mind seemingly elsewhere. Suddenly, he asked me: “Chloe, don’t you find this exhausting?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “We lost that spark we had when we were dating a long time ago. I’m used to having you around, but I can’t find that excitement anymore.” “With Hailey, I actually feel like I’m in a relationship again.” “Every day, you do the exact same things. Your whole life just revolves around me.” “Don’t you get sick of it?” He closed his eyes. “Chloe, I got tired of this kind of life a long time ago.” I stared at Marcus. Suddenly, I couldn’t find any words to say. I had imagined many reasons, but I never expected that Marcus was simply “bored” of our life. He was used to my presence, yet I could no longer stir any feelings in him. With one casual sentence, he had completely shattered everything we had built. I suddenly laughed. “You’re right. It is pretty exhausting.” Marcus was silent for a moment. “Divorce is the best outcome for both of us.” Marcus walked back to his room. I sat on the bed, staring into space for a long time. The next morning, I hired movers to take my luggage away. Just as I reached the door, Marcus called out to me. His tone sounded relieved. “If you ever need help with anything in the future, feel free to ask.” I didn’t reply and walked straight out. On the very night I moved out, Hailey moved in. She even posted a status on Snapchat. It was just a simple “New home! ” caption alongside a photo of her suitcases. Just a day ago, Marcus had said he wouldn’t let Hailey move in. The second I left, he couldn’t wait to bring her over. Hailey even sent me a provocative text message. “Chloe, Marcus said that since I’m pregnant, I should live with him so he can take better care of me. Otherwise, if something bad happens like when you were pregnant, it would be awful.” “Since you and Marcus are getting divorced anyway, you won’t mind, right?” My hand instinctively moved to my stomach. In our third year of marriage, I had gotten pregnant. Later, when I went to Marcus’s office, I walked in on him kissing Hailey. Because of the shock, I tripped, fell, and suffered a miscarriage. Marcus never mentioned Hailey after that incident, and he spent two weeks taking care of me. I lowered my eyes and typed back: [Does being a homewrecker make you feel that proud?] Five minutes later, Marcus called. “Hailey is just childish. You don’t need to take her words to heart, and there’s no need to argue with her.” “About her moving in… I thought about it. She’s a pregnant girl living alone, which isn’t safe, so I brought her here to take care of her.” I laughed. Hearing my laugh, Marcus went silent. “Don’t worry, I won’t lower myself to her level. She’s just a child, so take good care of her. Also, you don’t need to explain anything to me. We are divorced.” Without giving Marcus a chance to speak, I hung up. My hand rested on my stomach. Without any hesitation, I opened my phone and booked an appointment for an abortion. The day the waiting period ended, Marcus and I finalized our divorce. Walking out of the courthouse, Marcus called my name. I didn’t answer, nor did I stop my pace. I got straight into my Uber and left. As soon as Marcus got home, he received a text message from an unknown number. He frowned as he opened and zoomed in on the picture. When he saw the words clearly, his entire body went rigid.

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My roommate was an extreme eco-warrior. During a brutal 104°F heatwave, she locked the AC remote in her drawer. “We are supposed to sweat in the summer anyway. Just bear with it. Think of it as your contribution to saving Mother Earth.” That night, there wasn’t a single breeze coming through the window. Our dorm room felt exactly like an active pizza oven. My head was spinning from the suffocating heat, and sweat was dripping off me in sheets. When I tried to find the key to the drawer, she climbed onto a chair and used scissors to snip the AC’s power cord right in half. “Can’t you see Mother Nature is throwing up a fever? You selfish brat, all you care about is producing greenhouse gases.” In my past life, this was the exact night that kicked off a massive wave of cyberbullying against me at school. Everyone called me a spoiled, privileged princess who had zero empathy for the planet. They praised her as a hero with a noble mission. Ultimately, the extreme heat triggered my myocardial ischemia, sending me into cardiogenic shock. While I was dying, she cried on a TikTok Live, telling her followers that I only collapsed because I ate too much “processed industrial junk food” and had a weak body. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very first day of the semester. She was currently shoving the AC remote into her drawer. Her eyes were red as she looked at me and said, “Norah, being a little warm isn’t going to kill you.” Without a word, I grabbed my phone and my medical records, and walked straight to the housing office. “Mrs. Taylor, I need to apply for an emergency transfer to a single room.”

If she wanted to play a martyr, she could do it alone. I actually valued my life. Mrs. Taylor, the housing coordinator, looked up from her desk. Her freshman registration list was only half-finished. “Norah? You just checked in today and you’re already asking for a single room?” I placed my official medical documents on her desk. “Mrs. Taylor, I have a severe history of myocardial ischemia. Extreme heat can easily trigger a life-threatening cardiogenic shock for me.” “Right now, my roommate, Sienna Vance, has locked up the AC remote and is refusing to let us use any electricity, including personal fans.” The office went dead silent for a second. The student assistant sorting papers next to her stopped, wiped a thick bead of sweat from his forehead, and looked up in disbelief. “It’s literally 104 degrees outside today. She’s not letting you use the AC?” Mrs. Taylor frowned. “Norah, dorm conflicts should be resolved through communication first. The paperwork for a single room transfer takes time. It can’t be approved today.” Suddenly, a soft, pitiful, trembling voice came from the doorway. “Mrs. Taylor, this isn’t a conflict. This is a spiritual journey.” Sienna was standing by the door, clutching our dorm’s AC remote tightly to her chest. She was wearing a faded, oversized linen dress. Her forehead was covered in sweat, and her eyes were so red she looked like she had just been terribly bullied. “Mrs. Taylor, she wants to drain the very blood of our planet.” The assistant’s hand froze halfway through wiping his forehead. Mrs. Taylor looked at the plastic remote in Sienna’s hands. “Why do you have the AC remote?” Sienna immediately hugged the remote tighter, as if it were some sacred relic. “This machine is evil. Every breath of artificial cold air it spits out is a loan taken against the lifespan of our mountains and rivers.” “Mother Nature is crying in pain.” As she spoke, tears began to stream down her face. “I know everyone thinks I’m crazy. But I just want this world to stop being poisoned by modern industrial civilization.” By now, a few other freshmen had gathered in the hallway, whispering. “I mean, she’s a bit extreme, but her heart is in the right place, right?” someone muttered. Others started looking at me with judging eyes. That familiar, suffocating pressure tightened around my chest. It was exactly like my past life. The moment Sienna started crying and brought out her grand, dramatic speeches about saving the planet, everyone automatically assumed she was the victim. When I said my heart couldn’t take the heat, they called me dramatic. When I said she unplugged the fans, they said natural air was healthier anyway. When I complained that she turned our room into a sauna, they said she was just deeply compassionate. Even when I was finally lying in an ICU bed, hooked up to a ventilator and unable to speak, people on the school forum were still debating if I “lacked social responsibility.” This time, I didn’t bother explaining myself to the crowd. I kept my eyes on Mrs. Taylor. “Mrs. Taylor, I’m not here to judge her beliefs.” “I am simply requesting to not live with her.” Sienna’s sobbing paused for a fraction of a second. She looked up, her sweat and tears sticking her eyelashes together. “Norah, are you really that addicted to material comfort?” I replied flatly, “I have a heart condition.” Looking deeply hurt by my “ignorance,” she took a step back, her face full of disappointment. “But children in underdeveloped countries live without electricity every single day, and they survive. Why can’t you?” I flipped my medical report open and pointed directly at the doctor’s warning: Avoid extreme heat and high-stress situations. “Because I want to live.” The office fell completely silent. Mrs. Taylor stared at my medical records. Her brow furrowed, and her expression turned incredibly serious. “A single room request requires us to verify vacancy, and it has to go through both the department head and housing logistics.” Sienna immediately sniffled and took a step forward. “Mrs. Taylor, there’s no need to make a big deal out of this.” “I will do my best to guide Norah with love. I want to help her experience the joy of detoxing through natural sweat. Mother Nature will heal her heart.” I looked at her. “I don’t need Mother Nature to heal me.” “And I don’t need your guidance.”

The single room wasn’t approved on the spot. Mrs. Taylor said she had to call housing services to check for empty beds and submit a formal request to the dean. Hearing that the administration was getting involved, Sienna’s tears fell even faster. “Please don’t escalate this to the dean. They’ll just think I’m causing trouble again.” A student in the hallway chimed in, feeling sorry for her. “Mrs. Taylor, maybe they should just go back and talk it out?” “Yeah, the semester just started. Moving out on day one looks bad on their record.” “Exactly. Just bear with it for a couple of days, communication is key.” Mrs. Taylor looked at me. It wasn’t a look of favoritism—it was sheer helplessness. The university administration moved like a turtle, but peer pressure and moral high grounds traveled at the speed of light. Sienna knew exactly how to play this. Clutching the remote, she kept her voice just soft enough to sound fragile, but loud enough for everyone in the hallway to hear. “Norah, I just want you to let go of your greedy consumerism.” “The glaciers are melting. Polar bears don’t even have ice to stand on anymore.” “If we can’t even handle a little heat, how much longer does Earth have left?” In my past life, this was the exact moment I backed down. I had thought to myself that since it was only the first day of college, I shouldn’t make enemies. So, I followed her back to the dorm. That night, she locked away the remote, unplugged the fans, and told us to “listen to the beautiful hum of the summer cicadas.” I was trapped in that suffocating room until 4:00 AM. My heart was pounding like crazy, and my breathing sounded like a broken bellows. When I crawled to grab my emergency heart medication, she snatched it away, crying that “pharmaceuticals are toxic chemicals” that would ruin my “natural bodily magnetic field.” I ended up on the floor, gasping for air, clawing at the bedpost as my vision went black, until I finally lost consciousness. In this life, I took out my phone, laid it on the desk, and hit record. “Mrs. Taylor, I’m happy to follow the official housing protocol.” “But until my single room is approved, I will not be sleeping in that dorm. If the university cannot provide a temporary bed, I want a written statement from your office.” “A statement confirming that I have submitted proof of a severe heart condition, and that my current assigned dorm has an active hazard where a student is forcibly cutting off electricity and refusing to allow cooling.” The office went dead silent again. Sienna stopped crying. The way she looked at me now was no longer pitiful—she looked at me like I was an irredeemable sinner. Mrs. Taylor remained silent for a few seconds before picking up her desk phone and dialing the resident advisor line. “Hi, is this the RA for Hall B, Room 503? Please send someone up to check on that room immediately.” “A student reported that their roommate is refusing to let them use the AC or fans.” She listened to the person on the other end, her expression hardening. “Yes, I am serious. One of the residents has a severe heart condition and cannot be exposed to extreme heat.” Sienna suddenly lunged toward me. “Why do you have to blow everything out of proportion?!” Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was dripping with self-righteous anger. “We could have finished this beautiful spiritual journey together!” Outside the door, several students had already raised their phones, recording us. I took a giant step back. “Get away from me. The smell of your sweat is making me nauseous.” Sienna bit her lip, tears instantly spilling over. “This is the scent of nature! How could you insult me like that?” Crying hysterically, she turned and ran out of the office, heading back to the dorm. Mrs. Taylor closed her eyes, grabbed her keys from the desk, and sighed. “Let’s go. Room 503.” When we arrived at Room 503, the door was slightly ajar. From inside, we could hear our other roommate, Chloe, sobbing hysterically. Mrs. Taylor pushed the door open. A wave of suffocating, sweltering heat hit us in the face, carrying a strange, sour, rotting stench. Sienna was standing right beneath the AC outlet, holding a pair of heavy-duty kitchen scissors. On the floor lay the severed end of the AC’s thick white power cord. She held her head high, looking like a martyr standing before a firing squad. “Since a locked remote wasn’t enough to stop your greed, I have permanently freed us from this path of sin.” Chloe was sitting on the floor, crying, clutching a small, unplugged portable insulin fridge in her arms. Inside the plastic case, several expensive vials of imported insulin had already turned cloudy and ruined from the heat. Chloe was shaking with pure rage, pointing a finger at Sienna. “Are you insane?! You unplugged my mini-fridge! That was my entire semester’s supply of insulin!” Sienna looked at the ruined medicine on the floor, her face filled with mock pity. “Chloe, such expensive medicine is a luxury of capitalism.” “Elderly people in remote villages fight through illnesses using only their inner strength. Material goods do not bring true health. Why don’t you try letting your own body fight the disease naturally?” Chloe’s face drained of all color. “I have Type 1 Diabetes! I will literally die without insulin!” Sienna sighed, shaking her head. “That’s only because you are too dependent on modern medicine. Mother Nature will give us—” “Screw your nature!” Chloe scrambled up from the floor, grabbed a heavy textbook from her desk, and hurled it straight at Sienna’s head. Sienna shrieked, ducking quickly behind Mrs. Taylor. “Mrs. Taylor! She’s attacking me! The synthetic toxins in her body have driven her mad!”

The hall RA and the campus maintenance worker arrived shortly after. The moment they stepped into 503, the oppressive heat forced them back a step. It was 2:00 PM. The temperature outside was a scorching 104°F. The dorm windows were wide open, letting the hot, heavy summer air rush inside. Worse, the dorm floor was completely soaked with puddles of water. The extreme heat combined with the standing water turned the room into a giant steam room. It was so humid and sticky that it was hard to breathe. The RA’s face turned pale. “Why is there water all over the floor? Did a pipe burst?” Sienna peeked out from behind Mrs. Taylor, looking entirely innocent. “No, I brought that water from the campus lake.” “I read online that splashing water on the floor cools down a room through evaporation. It’s an ancient, eco-friendly cooling method. Plus, natural lake water carries spiritual energy.” The maintenance worker stared at the smelly, murky lake water on the floor, trying his best not to scream. “Kid, ancient climates were different, and this is a closed dorm building!” “Throwing stagnant water on the floor in this heat will only skyrocket the humidity! Anyone staying in here is going to get heatstroke!” Sienna pouted. “Don’t let modern science blind you. Traditional human wisdom is never wrong.” Some students watching in the hallway gasped, while others looked at her determined face and began whispering. “I mean, it’s dumb… but she really did it to try and cool them down.” “She’s just not very smart, but her heart is in the right place.” “Yeah, she had good intentions.” Just then, our fourth roommate, Ashley, walked in from the balcony. Her neck was already covered in a bright red heat rash, and she looked completely drained. She glanced at the ruined insulin on the floor, then at the sweating Sienna, and sighed. “Chloe, Norah, just drop it.” “Sienna just moved here from a small, rural town. Maybe she doesn’t know any better. She’s just trying to help us connect with nature. She was literally sweating bullets earlier writing eco-friendly quotes by hand.” “Let’s just take a step back. Think of it as doing a good deed. We can survive a few hot days.” Here it was again. Good intentions. In my past life, this simple phrase—good intentions—was the shield that excused all the deadly harm she caused. Sienna’s eyes immediately filled with tears of gratitude as she looked at Ashley. “Ashley, thank you for understanding me. I just want to save everyone from the trap of consumerism.” I stared coldly at Ashley. “She cut the AC cord, ruined Chloe’s life-saving medicine, and tried to lock me—a heart patient—in a 104-degree steam room.” “And you call that good intentions?” Ashley shrunk back under my gaze, her voice dropping. “Well… she’s already crying. Do you have to push her to the edge?” Before I could reply, Sienna took a sudden step forward, pulled a dirty cloth pouch from her pocket, and carefully opened it. Inside was a small pile of crumpled, dirty bills and coins. “Chloe, Norah, I know you both come from privilege.” “This is $30 I made from recycling soda cans. I’m paying you back. Go buy some organic popsicles to cool down, just please stop hating me.” She held out the crumpled money with both hands, tears streaming down her face. With her faded dress and desperate posture, it looked exactly like I was some wealthy bully tormenting her. The whispers in the hallway shifted instantly. “Oh my god, she’s offering her recycling money. Is she serious?” “It’s just a little heat. College girls these days are so fragile.” “They need to learn to forgive.” Chloe stared at the thirty dollars, her body shaking with rage. Tears welled up in her eyes, but the heavy judgment from the crowd kept her from speaking a single word. Mrs. Taylor raised her voice, telling the crowd to disperse, before turning a cold look on Sienna. “Sienna Vance, destroying university property and ruining another student’s expensive medication cannot be resolved with thirty dollars. Come to my office. Now.” Sienna clutched the crumpled money to her chest like a martyr carrying her cross, looking back at me with a mix of pity and creepy fanaticism as she followed Mrs. Taylor out.

As expected, by that evening, the incident exploded on the university’s anonymous forum, Fizz. A post titled “Pure-hearted girl tries to save energy for the planet, gets bullied by wealthy roommates” was pinned right at the top. The post featured three photos. The first was Sienna, drenched in sweat, writing environmental quotes under a dim desk lamp. The second was a candid shot of her crying in the hallway, holding her crumpled thirty dollars. The third was of me, standing by with my arms crossed, looking cold and aloof—the perfect image of an arrogant, evil roommate. The caption was highly manipulative: “What is wrong with this world? Someone tries to protect the Earth through natural living, only to be forced to her knees to pay money by her spoiled roommates who can’t live without AC. Do poor people with beliefs not deserve to go to college?” The comment section was a toxic wasteland. “The girl with her arms crossed looks like a total bitch.” “It’s just AC. I grew up without it and I’m fine. Kids today are brainwashed by capitalism.” “I feel so bad for the eco-girl. Seeing her hold that money made me tear up.” “Expose the spoiled roommates! Avoid them at all costs!” When Ashley showed me her phone, her expression was incredibly awkward. “Norah, look… things are getting out of hand. Why don’t you and Chloe just forgive her? Post a public statement on Fizz, otherwise how are we going to face people in class?” Looking at the cropped, out-of-context photo, my chest tightened, and my heart rate began to spike erratically. In my past life, I was cyberbullied exactly like this. I had posted my medical reports, the cut AC cord, and Chloe’s ruined insulin. But nobody cared. They only wanted to remember Sienna’s sweating, innocent-looking face. They only wanted to believe in their perfect, impoverished saint. I took a deep breath and pushed the phone away. “She is the one lying online. Why should I be the one to apologize and forgive her?” Mrs. Taylor had set up a temporary bed for me in the RA’s first-floor duty office. “Maintenance will fix the AC cord tomorrow. You sleep here tonight. There’s a fan. Tomorrow morning, I’ll push the dean for your single room.” The office only had an old ceiling fan that squeaked loudly, blowing warm air around, but it was a million times better than the artificial lake sauna upstairs. At 2:00 AM, just as I was drifting off, a pungent, artificial floral scent hit my nose. It smelled like the cheapest, lowest-grade incense sticks from a dollar store, mixed with heavy, suffocating smoke. I began to cough violently. My heart rate instantly surged to 120 beats per minute, and my lungs screamed for oxygen. I struggled to open my eyes. Through the dim light from the hallway, I saw Sienna standing right by my bed. She was holding a metal tray with seven or eight cheap incense sticks burning at once, releasing thick clouds of blackish smoke. She was actively waving the smoke directly into my face. “What… what are you doing?!” I gasped, clutching my chest as I scrambled back. Sienna looked down at me with a terrifyingly gentle smile. “Norah, Ashley told me your heart was acting up. Your heart is beating fast because your mind is full of modern anxiety and greed.” “This is meditation incense. Breathe it in. This raw, natural smoke will quiet your mind, and your heart condition will heal itself.” The thick smoke rapidly filled the tiny, unventilated room. The 104-degree heat, combined with the toxic chemical fragrance and severe lack of oxygen, felt like a physical hand squeezing my heart. “Get… get out…” I reached out, trying to knock the tray from her hands. Sienna grabbed my wrist with shocking strength. Her eyes were wide and manic. “Norah, don’t reject nature’s gift! Breathe deep! Purge the industrial toxins from your body!” My vision began to blur, and a tearing pain ripped through my chest. A second before I completely lost consciousness, my fingers brushed against my phone on the pillow. With my very last bit of strength, I pressed the emergency SOS button. As the metal tray clattered loudly to the floor, I collapsed onto the bed. The last thing I heard was Sienna’s horrified, self-righteous shriek. “Norah! Why would you rather faint than accept Mother Nature’s blessing?!”

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I’d just boarded an international flight, my body still aching from an abortion hours earlier, when my phone buzzed. A notification from Penn, my billionaire husband. He’d sent fifty-two dollars. “Serena forgot your sister’s surgery fees,” his message read. “This covers it. Your oversight. Next time, clear expenses over two hundred with Serena.” “No reply? Don’t think carrying my child gives you free rein. Tomorrow, state publicly your sister’s crisis wasn’t Serena’s fault. Delaying surgery a few days—what’s the harm?” I stared, hollow, then shut off the screen and leaned against the cold window. Seconds later, my phone erupted—relentless calls and texts. “Where are you? Pick up, or I’ll have your paralytic sister thrown out!” When silence answered, Penn panicked. He raced to the care facility; my sister was the anchor that kept me tethered. Bursting into her room, he found an empty bed. Grabbing a nurse, his voice shook: “Where is she?” The nurse blinked. “You didn’t know? Critical last night. Family couldn’t raise funds in time. She’s dead.” Penn froze, blood draining from his face. Then he remembered: five days ago, my sister crashed. I begged for three hundred thousand. His secretary Serena hid the request. When he chose her over us—and I said I wanted a divorce—I meant every word. … “Stop playing games,” Penn had replied coldly. He hadn’t even looked up from his laptop when he said it. The rows of boring electronic data on his screen seemed infinitely more captivating than the woman standing before him. I kept my eyes lowered, my voice quiet but unyielding. “I am not playing games, Penn. I want a divorce.” He exhaled a heavy, irritated sigh and finally stood up, his face a mask of cold indifference. “You’re screaming for a divorce over a minor misunderstanding?” When I didn’t answer, his brow furrowed deeper. “I was the one who authorized the temporary suspension of your sister’s treatment. It had nothing to do with Serena. She was only following my orders.” “If you hadn’t barged into the office and made a scene a few days ago, I wouldn’t have had to teach you a lesson.” “I’ve already instructed them to resume her treatment. I’m busy, Nora. I don’t have the time or patience for your tantrums.” Without waiting for my reply, he grabbed his coat and walked out, entirely convinced that my demand for a divorce was merely a desperate bid for attention. He was certain that, before long, I would crawl back to him, pleading for his forgiveness. Had Penn picked up my call three days ago with even a shred of humanity, I might still be bowing my head to him, enduring his coldness just to keep my sister alive. I remembered standing in the sterile, fluorescent-lit hospital corridor, my pregnant belly aching, begging him not to hang up. “Penn, please. Just lend me three hundred thousand dollars. This surgery is everything to Hazel. If it succeeds, she’ll be able to walk again.” His response had been nothing but impatience and irritation. “How many times do I have to tell you? If you need money, go through Serena. Why are you bothering me with this?” But getting money from Serena had always been an exercise in humiliation. “Three hundred thousand is a massive sum, Nora,” Serena had said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “You don’t even have an itemized billing statement yet. How can I verify this money is actually going toward a surgery?” I had explained that it was a pre-admission deposit, and the official itemized bill could only be printed after discharge. She had smiled, a small, patronizing curl of her lips. “I’m not doubting you, dear. It’s just that I’ve seen people falsify records before. Penn’s reputation is priceless, and I have to protect his assets.” “Besides, Penn has a strict rule. Any personal expense exceeding two hundred dollars must be reported to him. Go get the hospital’s official seal on those forms first, and then I’ll see about submitting it.” By the time I obtained the necessary paperwork and called her to follow up, she acted as though she had only just remembered. “Oh, Nora, I’ve been so incredibly busy. It completely slipped my mind. You don’t mind, do you?” Because of that “slip of the mind,” Hazel missed her window for a matching kidney donor. The doctor had told me it was her absolute last chance to receive a compatible organ. Because the funds never arrived, my sister’s only hope of survival was snuffed out. At that moment, I knew I was done. Standing at the study door, I called out to Penn one last time. “Tomorrow morning at ten. I’ll see you at the family court.” Penn paused, looking back at me with cold, dismissive eyes. “Nora, before you use divorce to threaten me, you’d better remember who pays for your life.” “Your sister’s ongoing care costs a fortune, and you’re carrying my child. Don’t paint yourself into a corner you can’t climb out of.” Before the words had even left his mouth, his phone rang. He answered it, his voice instantly softening into a tone he had never used with me. “Serena? It’s not your fault. I made the rules. If she wants to blame anyone, she can blame me.” “Don’t cry. I’ll take you out tomorrow. You can buy whatever you want.” Listening to him coax her so tenderly, a sharp, stabbing pain blossomed in my lower abdomen. Over the past few days, I had been so frantic about Hazel that I had completely missed my own prenatal check-up. My phone buzzed. It was an automated text from the clinic: Ms. Nora, you are currently seven weeks pregnant. Please remember to schedule your routine prenatal examination. The next morning, Penn never showed up at the court. I waited until noon before he finally replied to my message. I’m out shopping with Serena. Busy. If you really want a divorce, have your lawyer file the papers. I didn’t bother replying. Instead, I went back to the hospital. Hazel lay on the bed, her fingers barely able to twitch. She was only five years older than me, but the aggressive treatments had left her completely bald and terribly frail. Seeing me enter, she forced a weak, trembling smile. “Nora… let’s stop the treatment.” My eyes burned with unshed tears. “Don’t say that, Hazel.” Our parents had passed away early, and Hazel had raised me on her own. She had been nothing but a child herself, yet she worked multiple jobs to pay for my tuition, shielding me from every storm. The doctor pulled me out into the hallway, his expression grave. “The situation is deteriorating rapidly. We can’t delay any longer. You must secure the remaining treatment fees as soon as possible.” I nodded numbly. I went straight to a pawn shop and sold my wedding ring. The clerk examined the diamond and offered an insultingly low price, but I didn’t care. I needed the cash. Right after receiving the money, I opened social media and saw Serena’s latest post. In the photo, she stood in front of a high-end department store mirror, holding several luxury shopping bags, a sweet, victorious smile plastered on her face. The caption read: Penn said I am the face of his company, so he insisted on buying me these. I stared at the screen for a long time until it went dark. That afternoon, Serena showed up at the hospital room, her smile triumphant. “Nora, Penn sent me to check if there is still any point in continuing your sister’s treatment.” “After all, money should only be spent on those who are worth it. I need to re-evaluate this expense.” Before I could open my mouth, Penn walked down the corridor. He stopped beside Serena, his expression flat. “Serena is only doing her job.” “If you have a problem, you can bring it up directly with me.” I looked him dead in the eye. “She doesn’t need approval to buy luxury bags, but my sister needs your approval to stay alive?” “What I spend on her is my own business,” Penn replied coldly. “What you are asking for is an expenditure under my wife’s name. They are entirely different things.” He slid a thick stack of forms toward me. “If you want the money, fill out the application. Once Serena reviews and approves it, I will authorize the transfer.” I didn’t reach for the paper. His eyes drifted to my stomach, his voice growing even colder. “You’re still pregnant. Stop using the child to throw these dramatic tantrums.” With that, he turned to leave with Serena. But the very next second, the doctor rushed into the room. “Emergency! Your sister’s vitals are crashing. We need to operate immediately!” I waited outside the operating room for three agonizing hours before the surgeon finally emerged with the news that Hazel’s condition had temporarily stabilized. But his face remained tense. “We’ve managed to keep her stable, but her medication cannot be interrupted. Her body cannot survive another shock.” I nodded, my throat aching with a dry, burning thirst. After using the last of my pawned-ring cash to pay for her immediate prescriptions, I walked down to the hospital cafeteria to buy her some broth. And there, sitting by the window, were Penn and Serena. They were sharing a beautifully arranged plate of desserts. Serena saw me first. She immediately rose and walked over, her expression soft and apologetic. “Nora, you’re here too.” “Penn said I worked incredibly hard putting the project files together this week, so he took me out for a quick lunch.” “It’s purely professional, please don’t misunderstand.” I ignored her and looked directly at Penn. “I guess not every single dollar spent requires a formal application process.” Penn’s brow furrowed. “Nora, drop the attitude.” “Serena did an outstanding job this week. As her boss, taking her out for a meal is perfectly normal. Is there a problem?” “No problem,” I said quietly. “After all, she keeps me under your heel so perfectly. She deserves a reward.” His expression darkened, but I didn’t wait around for his response. I turned and walked away. When I returned to the room, Hazel was fast asleep. I sat by her side, my heart breaking as I stared at her hollow cheeks. That evening, as I kept watch by her bed, the sky outside suddenly lit up. A magnificent display of golden fireworks erupted over the city, painting the night sky in brilliant, shimmering hues. Several nurses and patients gathered by the window to watch. “Who spent that kind of money?” “I heard it’s the Sinclair Group. The CEO is putting on a show to reward his secretary.” “How romantic. Imagine having a boss who treats you like that.” I stood by the glass, my fingers turning cold. While they celebrated their sweet, public romance, my sister lay on a sterile bed, fighting for every breath with the help of a machine. I unlocked my phone. Serena’s social media feed had just updated. The photo showed her wearing a dazzling diamond necklace, the glittering stones catching the light of the fireworks. The caption read: Thank you, Penn, for this beautiful necklace. Tonight, the sky burned just for me! I stared at the necklace. It was a design I had admired for months. Last month, when I had lingered in front of the display case at the boutique, Penn had merely glanced at it and said, “A purchase like that requires too much administrative approval. It’s not worth the hassle.” It wasn’t that it wasn’t worth the hassle. It was only a hassle when it was for me. I stared at the post for a long time, then tapped the “like” button. Within a minute, my phone rang. It was Penn. “Now that you’ve liked the post, don’t you dare retract it,” he said without preamble. “People will start rumors about Serena if you do.” “Leave a comment underneath. Praise her for her hard work. Let’s make it look like a joint gesture of appreciation from both of us as a couple.” I quieted my mind, tapped open the comment box, and typed: You’ve worked so hard, Secretary Song. You’re even wearing the things the President’s wife has no right to touch. I locked the phone. A few minutes later, the screen lit up again. I walked out into the quiet corridor to answer it. Serena’s sobbing voice immediately filled the receiver. “Nora, I really didn’t know you liked that necklace too…” “I only accepted it because it was a gift from Penn. If you comment like that, what will everyone think of me?” Then, Penn’s voice broke in, cold and furious. “Nora, do you have any idea how many people in the office are already whispering about her? How is she supposed to face anyone after what you wrote?” “It just proves that not everyone in your office is a fool,” I replied. His breath caught. “When did you become so bitter and toxic? Serena worked incredibly hard to get to where she is. You don’t work, you live entirely on my dime, and yet you feel entitled to humiliate a woman who actually puts in honest labor?” Before I could reply, a shrill, piercing alarm echoed from Hazel’s room. The heart monitor. Panic seized me. I dropped the phone and bolted back into the room. A team of doctors was already crowding around her bed. Hazel’s face was white, her oxygen tube lying discarded on the floor. The doctor looked up at me, his face grim. “She pulled the tube out herself. We’re doing everything we can!” My knees buckled. I threw myself against the side of the bed, sobbing hysterically. “Hazel, please! Why would you do this?” Hazel struggled to open her eyes, her voice barely a whisper. “Nora… don’t cry. Don’t fight for me anymore. It hurts too much.” “I heard… I heard you on the phone with Penn.” “Don’t spend any more money on me. I won’t let you ruin your life for a dying woman.” I shook my head violently, tears blinding me. “I won’t let you go! Don’t worry about the money, I will save you!” With shaking fingers, I redialed Penn’s number. The line connected, but it was Serena’s voice that answered, laced with a quiet, venomous chuckle. “Asking for money again?” she whispered. “Nora, did you really think you could humiliate me on social media and then beg for a favor? If you want the funds, come to my office right now. Get down on your knees, beg for my forgiveness, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll think about signing off.” Then, Penn’s cold voice echoed in the background. “Serena is right, Nora. This is the respect you owe her.”

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Audrey and I were known in the legal community as the ultimate courtroom rivals. The internet had tried for years to get us to face off in court. But as top-tier lawyers, we weren’t about to sabotage our own firm’s reputation. Six years of public pleading, six years of disappointment. Everyone said we were a match made in heaven. Same academic pedigree, same undefeated record, even our calculating, step-by-step courtroom style was identical. Until today. I was organizing case files in the mediation room when she walked in with the defendant. In that moment, I realized my fiancée had taken a case against my client. She sat across from me with a faint, almost imperceptible air of arrogance. “Graham, give up. You can’t win this. There’s no need to ruin the reputation you’ve spent years building over a single case.” I looked up at her, slowly putting down my pen. “Who says I’m going to lose?” The defendant sitting next to her, a young man, suddenly reached out and gently tugged her sleeve. I stared at the watch on his wrist, my pupils contracting. Audrey, who had just returned from an international trip last night, had gifted me a pair of cufflinks. They were a complimentary gift that came with that exact luxury watch. 1 During the hearing, I found myself losing focus. Audrey was presenting her evidence, her expression grave and professional. Liam sat beside her, idly playing with his watch strap as if he were bored. A burning sensation spread through my chest. I felt a sudden urge to rip off the cufflinks I was wearing. Audrey stood up, placing a document on the table in front of me. “The defense requests a preliminary clarification on the nature of the debt dispute. The plaintiff deliberately concealed her financial liabilities, which constitutes fraud.” Her voice was steady, smoothly transitioning from the mutual intent of the loan to the chain of evidence, from legal precedents to the burden of proof. But none of the evidence she was presenting had been included in our pre-trial discovery exchange. “Objection,” I said, rising to my feet. My voice sounded heavier than I intended. “Opposing counsel failed to exchange this set of evidence prior to the trial as required by civil procedure rules.” Audrey cast a brief glance at me, turning to the judge with absolute composure. “Your Honor, this evidence was only obtained by my team late last night. We had no time to exchange it, and we respectfully request the court’s discretion to admit it.” The judge admitted the evidence. Left with no choice, I requested a recess under the guise of reviewing the new material. As I walked out of the courtroom, Audrey caught up with me. “I told you before, you can’t win this,” she said, stopping a few paces away. Her tone was entirely confident. “A trial isn’t a law school exam. You don’t win just by memorizing the rules.” As the underlying meaning of her words settled in, I couldn’t help but let out a dry laugh. “So, you win by being deeply familiar with your client’s personal life instead?” Audrey’s face darkened instantly. Just then, Liam sauntered over. The moment Audrey saw him, the coldness in her eyes softened. Liam stopped in front of me, his posture carrying a subtle, defensive stubbornness. “Mr. Barrett, Paige is a fraud. She lied about her finances before we married and forced me to bail her out. Are you really going to defend a woman like that?” “As a lawyer, shouldn’t you be fighting for justice? We’re just trying to protect ourselves from being financially exploited. Paige might have paid you an exorbitant fee, but are you really going to watch my life get ruined just for the money?” His voice was soft, making him sound like the victim, yet every word was designed to paint me in the worst light possible. The reporters who had been waiting outside immediately swarmed us, thrusting microphones into my face. “Mr. Barrett, is what Mr. Liam says true? Did your client pay you a fee far above the industry standard? Did you solicit that amount?” 2 “Mr. Barrett, both you and Ms. Pierce have maintained undefeated records since the start of your careers. However, your case volume is significantly lower than hers. Facing off against her directly today, are you under immense pressure?” “We heard you struggled during the opening statements. Is it because you’re taking it easy on your fiancée?” I forced myself to remain calm. In the next second, Audrey stepped in front of me, shielding me from the cameras. “Apologies, but we will not be answering any questions while this case is active. Please excuse us.” She grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the parking garage. To keep the reporters from following, she pushed me into the passenger seat of her car. It was only then that I noticed Liam was already sitting in the front passenger seat. He turned around to look at me, a perfectly calculated look of apology on his face. “Mr. Barrett, there were so many reporters out there that I panicked and jumped in first. I usually sit in the front, I hope you don’t mind?” Before I could speak, Audrey reached over and playfully tapped the back of his head. “Just sit still and behave yourself,” she said softly. He smiled and turned back around, though our eyes occasionally met in the rearview mirror. For the entire drive, the car was filled with Liam’s voice. He pointed out expensive sports cars on the road, excitedly urging Audrey to look. When we passed an exclusive, members-only restaurant, he eagerly listed his favorite dishes from their menu. I had always believed Audrey disliked talkative men. Yet sitting in the back seat, I could clearly see the faint smile on her lips and hear her occasional, quiet laughter. I unlocked my phone and opened our chat history. Our last message was from a week ago. She had texted me saying she was flying out of the country for a business trip. I scrolled up further. The pictures of stray cats I had shared, the sudden rainstorm, the new coffee shop downstairs, she hadn’t replied to any of them, not even with a single punctuation mark. I closed my eyes, feeling incredibly weary. She dropped me off at my building, standing by the door to tell me to get some rest. “Since we’re on opposing sides of this trial, it’s not appropriate for us to live together. I won’t be coming back here for the next few days.” As she turned to leave, I reached out and caught her sleeve, finally asking the question that had been burning in my chest. “You and him… when did it start?” 3 “What?” “You and Liam.” She froze, then let out a soft, dismissive scoff. “Are you seriously throwing wild accusations at me just because you’re losing the case?” When I didn’t respond, she reached out to touch my arm, her face tightening with impatience. “Stop overthinking. There’s nothing going on. He’s just a client.” Before she could finish, her phone buzzed. The name on the screen read: Liam. Her brow furrowed slightly. She instinctively turned her body away from me and answered. Liam’s soft, strained voice came through the speaker. “Audrey, my stomach is acting up again…” Audrey’s fingers tightened around her phone. “Hold on. I’m on my way.” She hung up and turned around immediately, her heels clicking rapidly against the floor as she rushed toward the elevator. She didn’t offer a single word of explanation. This was the man she called a mere client. I closed the door, looked around the empty apartment, and began to pack up, forcing the chaotic thoughts out of my mind. The next morning, I arrived at the firm as usual. The moment I walked into my office, the head of finance was already waiting for me. “Mr. Barrett, the petty cash Ms. Pierce withdrew last month still hasn’t been accounted for. We need to close the books by the end of the week, but I can’t reach her. I was hoping you could…” “How much did she withdraw?” “One hundred thousand dollars.” My gaze darkened. What did she need that much cash for? After dismissing the accountant, I immediately contacted a close friend of mine in banking to pull Audrey’s personal financial records. On the seventeenth of last month, she had transferred one hundred thousand dollars into a personal account belonging to a woman named Martha Jenkins. Before I could even dial Audrey’s number, my assistant knocked on the door, looking frantic. “Boss, we have a problem. A video of you and Ms. Pierce outside the courthouse yesterday went viral. The public reaction is extremely hostile toward you.” I put down my phone and took the tablet he handed me. And they called this a clash of titans? This is a total embarrassment. We waited six years for this? Graham Barrett actually calls himself a top attorney? No wonder he never dared to face Ms. Pierce in court. His undefeated record was clearly just clever marketing. Even my interns have better composure under pressure. He needs to get out of the legal profession. The comments were flooded with demands for the firm to fire me, and our official social media accounts were being hammered with abuse. Suddenly, the office door was pushed open. “Graham, you need to drop Paige’s case,” Audrey said as she walked in. Her eyes fell on the bank statements and transfer receipts spread across my desk, and her face instantly darkened. “Why do you have my financial records?” I leaned back in my chair, my voice entirely calm. “The accounting department couldn’t find you to balance the books, so they brought them to me.” Her jaw tightened. “Don’t you think you owe me an explanation for this money?” I stared at her, and she instinctively avoided my gaze. “I can’t explain it to you right now. Just cover it for me from the firm’s account. It’s a personal matter, it has nothing to do with the case.” “Nothing to do with the case? Then what is it about? And who is Martha Jenkins?” Audrey’s brow furrowed deeply, and she glared at me. “Are you investigating me?” She snatched the approval form off my desk, crumpling the paper in her tight grip. “Deduct the hundred thousand from my year-end dividends. And as for Paige’s case, I’m telling you to drop it. You’ve been handling the administrative side of the firm for years and barely litigate anymore. Don’t push yourself.” I looked down at the empty desk. I remembered our college days, when we were always neck-and-neck at the top of our class, constantly competing, refusing to back down. It was through those fierce academic battles that we had grown to admire each other. When she confessed her feelings to me, I had accepted without a second thought. After graduation, we started this firm together. To allow her to focus entirely on the courtroom, I took over the management, operations, and administrative side of things. She was the face of the firm, while I secured the foundation. It had been a perfect partnership. But as her win rate climbed and her reputation grew, she began to believe the firm’s success was entirely due to her efforts, completely dismissing my contributions behind the scenes. We had argued and gone through cold wars over this. To prove myself, and to reclaim my own voice, I had agreed to represent Paige. I never expected that we would end up standing on opposing sides of the courtroom. I had wanted to have a real talk with her, but now, it seemed entirely pointless. 4 After Audrey left, I poured all my energy into the case. Taking the evidence she had presented in court, I went to meet with Paige. When Paige saw the documents detailing millions of dollars in debt, she froze. “This isn’t mine…” I pointed to the signature on the copies. “Then why is your signature here? You need to understand that if you keep hiding things, we will lose this trial. You won’t just lose everything, you’ll be saddled with a crushing debt.” Paige, who was only twenty-six, panicked. “Were these debts accumulated before your marriage?” I pressed. “Yes… but it was all for Liam,” she whimpered. “He told me his father was a heavy gambler and his mother was bedridden with a terminal illness. When we were dating, his father came to our door demanding money multiple times. I felt so sorry for him that I…” I listened to her explanation, a strange feeling of unease settling in. “Do you have any proof of this?” “I can check the security camera footage at our old apartment…” While Paige went to retrieve the footage, I didn’t sit idle. I had someone pull Liam’s bank statements. His personal accounts were pristine, with no large transfers over the past five years. So, I asked my contact to look into his immediate family members. Half an hour later, I received a detailed transaction history. Starting two years ago, his mother’s account had received a total of nearly half a million dollars in various transfers. And the most recent transaction made me freeze. It was a wire transfer of one hundred thousand dollars from Audrey’s account. I let out a cold laugh. I remembered my mother’s birthday earlier this year. Audrey had gifted her a cheap glass ornament, completely unwrapped. My family’s expressions had been incredibly awkward, and I had to step in to smooth things over. Later, when we were leaving, I had asked her, “Be honest with me, did you forget my mother’s birthday?” Instead of apologizing, she had flared up in anger. “What is that supposed to mean? Are you complaining about my gift?” “You know very well that the firm’s profits only exist because I’m constantly taking cases, yet we split the money fifty-fifty.” “If I recall correctly, you bought your parents a house and a car. Even if you paid for it, a portion of that money belongs to me, doesn’t it?” “Without me securing our reputation out there, you wouldn’t even have that money.” Looking at Audrey as she meticulously kept score of our finances, I had felt a profound sense of exhaustion. She was the one who had claimed she hated administrative work, which was why I had forced myself to step back from litigation to handle operations. I had shouldered every tedious detail so she could shine. I was the one who prepared the outlines, the strategy, and the evidence folders for every single one of her cases. For five years, Liam’s case was the only one she had handled completely on her own, without my assistance. Yet, in her mind, I was merely riding her coattails. The ringing of my phone broke my train of thought. It was Audrey. “Graham, where are you?” I gave her the name of the restaurant I was at. “Stay there. I’m coming to get you. Don’t go anywhere alone.” In less than twenty minutes, her car pulled up to the curb, and she hurried inside. The moment her eyes found me, she let out a visible sigh of relief. She walked over, her heels clicking against the tile. “Don’t go out for the next few days. I saw online that some people are threatening to teach you a lesson. I’ve already had another lawyer take over Paige’s case. Just stay home until the heat dies down.” The panic in her eyes was genuine. And I knew exactly why she was so terrified. Years ago, during a dispute involving a factory layoff, a disgruntled worker had threatened me. He had tried to throw acid at my face, but Audrey had thrown herself in front of me. I had escaped unharmed, but her left arm had been severely burned, leaving a large, permanent scar. Back then, seeing the raw terror and love in her eyes had deeply moved me, filling my chest with an overwhelming warmth. Now, faced with a similar situation, I felt absolutely nothing. My heart was entirely quiet. 5 I gently brushed her hand away, my voice polite but distant. “Thank you for the concern, Ms. Pierce. But as you said, we are opposing counsel on this case. It’s not appropriate for us to meet. I won’t be dropping Paige’s case, and if anyone tries to threaten me, I will handle it myself.” Audrey stared at me, stunned. “What are you trying to prove?” I stood up slowly, looking her in the eyes. “Nothing. I just want to see this through to the end.” She grabbed my arm, her frustration finally boiling over. “Do you think I don’t know what you’re doing? You’re just trying to prove you can still litigate. You want to beat me to satisfy your own ego. You know you can’t win, so why push it?” I pulled my arm back. “Think what you want, but let me remind you: we are adversaries in court. Please keep your personal emotions out of this case.” A cold, bitter laugh escaped her lips. “Fine. If you’re so intent on ruining your own career, I won’t stop you. Just don’t regret it when you lose!” She slammed the door as she left. I paid the bill and walked out without a word. What I didn’t expect was for Liam to show up at my firm. In the coffee shop downstairs, he sat dressed in a perfectly tailored white shirt, his hair styled flawlessly. “Mr. Barrett, I know you’re keeping a tight grip on this case because you suspect something is going on between Audrey and me. But our relationship is strictly professional. Audrey has never done anything to betray you.” “You shouldn’t try to ruin my life just because of your own insecurities. Please, Mr. Barrett, show some mercy. Let me have my life back…” He stopped, his throat bobbing as if holding back a wave of deep emotion. What I didn’t realize was that he had hidden a camera in the nearby potted plant. That very night, an edited version of our conversation was uploaded online. The public outrage intensified. I was painted as a powerful, arrogant attorney using my position to bully a vulnerable young man. By four in the morning, my phone was ringing incessantly with abusive calls. “Graham Barrett, have you no shame? You couldn’t keep your own fiancée, so you’re taking it out on an innocent kid? And you call yourself a lawyer? You’re a pathetic excuse of a man.” I calmly started a recording on my laptop, set the phone aside, and let it play. This was the twelfth call tonight, and some of them were far viler. I spent the rest of the night organizing the evidence for Paige’s case to the sound of strangers hurling insults at me. By the time the sun came up, my phone had completely run out of battery. Checking the clock, I realized the trial was less than four hours away. I brewed myself a strong cup of black coffee and left to pick up Paige. The crowd outside the courthouse was several times larger than before. I slipped through the back entrance, guiding Paige quickly inside. By chance, we crossed paths with Audrey and Liam, who were entering through the main doors. Audrey paused, offering a cold smirk. “You really are insane. Are you truly willing to throw away your entire career for this?” I didn’t answer. I walked past her, heading straight for the courtroom. Before the session began, the live-stream room was already flooded with hundreds of thousands of viewers. The comment section was moving at a dizzying speed, everyone waiting to watch me fail. The judge took the bench and called the court to order. Audrey was the first to present. Her logic was seamless, her presentation flawless. Every piece of evidence she presented pointed to Paige concealing her pre-marital debts, painting her as a fraudulent spouse. When it was my turn, I presented Paige’s bank records. “First, my client did not conceal any financial liabilities. Every single debt she incurred was done under the direct manipulation of the defendant, Liam.” I handed the files to the bailiff to present to the judge. The live chat erupted. Is this guy out of his mind? This is a court of law, not a creative writing class. Is he seriously trying to claim these debts were gifts? Does he think we’re all idiots? He knows he’s going to lose, so he’s resorted to slander. How pathetic. Once the judge had reviewed the documents, I spoke again. “Furthermore, my team has acquired evidence proving that the defendant committed adultery during the marriage. And his partner was none other than his defense counsel: Audrey Pierce.”

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Returning home tonight, I realized the peephole on my front door was gone. In its place was a hollow, empty socket. My heart plummeted. Because tucked inside that very peephole, I had hidden half of a severed finger. 1 I cast a casual glance down the empty hallway, keeping my movements deliberate and calm. I pulled out my phone and tapped open the security app. The feed showed that exactly three minutes ago, a masked, shadowy figure had bypassed my lock. His technique was old-school. First, he twisted the peephole casing loose from the outside. Then, he slid a long, bent wire through the vacant hole. Navigating by touch, he hooked the interior doorknob, gave it a sharp tug, and the latch clicked open. As for the severed finger I had wedged inside the mechanism, the wire had punched it straight into the apartment. The intruder had slipped inside, shutting the door quietly behind him. He took two steps before stumbling, his boot catching on something small and soft on the hardwood floor. He knelt, picked it up, and stared at the half-finger in his palm. The feed showed him freezing, entirely paralyzed. Realizing he had stumbled into a predator’s den, the intruder panicked, turning back toward the door to make a run for it. But that was the exact moment I arrived. Right now, only a thin sheet of wood separated us. 2 “Why aren’t we going in, babe?” Grace asked softly beside me. “Just looking for my keys in my bag,” I replied smoothly. Grace had no idea the peephole was missing. She couldn’t see it. She was blind. I kept quiet about it because the last thing I wanted was to worry her. While I pretended to fumble with my keys, I kept my eyes glued to the phone screen. The intruder was in a frenzy, scrambling into the kitchen and squeezing himself into the narrow cabinet beneath the stove. I unlocked the door, guided Grace inside, and locked it behind us, making sure to turn the deadbolt twice. After helping her to the sofa, she mentioned she was thirsty. I offered to get her a glass of water and walked into the kitchen. My eyes immediately darted to the cabinet beneath the counter. The door was slightly ajar. A cold smile touched my mind. This made things much easier. Without making a sound, I closed the kitchen window, shut the door to the hallway, and cut the electricity to the kitchen. Then, I quietly turned the valve on the gas stove. It was a risky move, but it was the quietest way to put a rat to sleep. 3 I stepped back into the living room, sealing the kitchen door behind me. I handed Grace her glass of warm water, then immediately slid open the balcony window to let the fresh air circulate. Outside, a gentle drizzle had started to fall, carrying the crisp, earthy scent of rain on damp ground. “Is it raining?” Grace’s voice drifted over, vibrating with a childlike excitement. “I want to listen to it.” By the time I turned around, she was already navigating her way toward the balcony, her hands lightly sweeping the air. I stepped up and gently caught her arm. At the open window, she reached out, letting her bare forearm catch the cool, falling mist. The icy drops beaded on her skin. She curled her fingers, a soft, ethereal smile warming her face. “It feels so soft,” she whispered. “Yeah, but let’s get you sat down before you catch a cold,” I said, pulling her back gently. A flicker of disappointment crossed her face, but she complied, settling onto the wooden chair on the balcony. I draped a plush blanket over her shoulders, tucking the edges around her neck. My hand drifted into my pocket, tapping the phone screen. The intruder hadn’t moved. Thirty minutes had passed since I opened the gas valve. 4 Judging by the time, the air in the kitchen should be toxic enough. I spoke softly to Grace. “Stay here. I’m going to wash some fruit for you. I bought some sweet apples today.” Suddenly, her cool hand slipped around my forearm, holding me back. “No rush. Just sit with me for a bit. Listen to the rain. Doesn’t it sound just like the old days?” I glanced toward the kitchen door, then sat down beside her. She rested her head on my shoulder, falling silent. Occasionally, her fingers flicked against her lap, tapping out a slow rhythm to the falling rain. I looked down at her. Her unseeing eyes seemed to hold a soft, liquid light, gentler than the rain outside. Another half hour slipped away as the drizzle tapered off. She finally sat up, her fingers grazing my knee. “Go get that apple now. Be careful, though. Don’t cut your finger like last time.” I patted her shoulder, stood up, and picked up the paring knife from the dining table. Taking a deep breath, I slipped into the kitchen. I shut off the gas valve and threw the window wide open. After waiting two minutes for the fumes to clear, I yanked open the cabinet door. The intruder was curled into a tight ball, his head slumped lifelessly against his knees. He was deeply unconscious, the bent lockpicking wire still clutched in his limp hand. The severed finger lay on the wooden floor right beside him. To be absolutely sure, I wrapped the wire tightly around his neck and pulled. Three minutes later, his chest stopped moving entirely. Time to clean up. I washed my hands thoroughly at the sink, grabbed an apple from the basket, peeled it, and brought the clean slices to Grace. “I have to head out for a bit to handle a work emergency,” I told her. “Go to bed when you’re tired. Don’t wait up for me.” She nodded, her voice tender. “Okay. Drive safe, and come back quickly.” I went back to the kitchen, stuffed the limp body into a large duffel bag, and secured the lock. I put the peephole back on the front door, slipping the severed finger back into its secret chamber. After helping Grace with her nightly routine and making sure she was tucked in and asleep, I quietly wheeled my heavy cargo out the door. 5 As an emergency utility technician, middle-of-the-night calls were standard for me. Grace was used to it, so she never questioned my odd hours. Closing the apartment door, I dragged the heavy suitcase toward the stairwell. I always took the stairs. No cameras, no digital footprint, just concrete and shadow. I made my way down to the sub-basement, dodging the sparse security cameras until I reached a dusty utility corridor. Nestled in a dark corner was a sewer maintenance hatch. For me, it was the perfect grave. I pried the heavy iron cover open and pushed the body in. I poured in the concentrated sulfuric acid I had prepared beforehand. When the chemical fizzing subsided, I hauled my empty suitcase back up. It was nearly eleven o’clock when I finally unlocked my front door. 6 The moment I stepped inside, I froze. Grace was standing near the bathroom, her posture unusually rigid. “Why are you still up?” I asked, keeping my voice gentle. “I just got back.” At the sound of my voice, her tense shoulders dropped slightly. “I was asleep, but I woke up to a dripping sound from the bathroom. I wanted to see what it was.” “A dripping sound?” My chest tightened. I followed her gaze into the bathroom. Dark red droplets were seeping through the seams of the ceiling panels, landing on the white tile with a rhythmic splash. It looked exactly like blood. I immediately led Grace back to the living room and sat her on the sofa. “The pipes upstairs must be backed up. I’ll head up and check on things.” “It’s so late. Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” “It’s fine. I know the guy upstairs. I’ll be right back.” I slipped out, taking the stairs to the apartment directly above ours. The hallway was empty. I quickly unscrewed the peephole on the door, slid a bent wire through, and pulled the handle from the inside. The door clicked open. A suffocating smell of copper and rot hit me instantly. I closed the door and went straight to the bathroom. The floor was flooded with dark, stagnant water. The drain was completely clogged. Without hesitation, I plunged my hand down into the pipe. After feeling around the tight curve, I hauled out a thick, tangled mass of hair. The water immediately began to drain with a loud gurgle. But as I looked at what I was holding, my heart stopped. Tangled in the wet hair was a small, razor-sharp pocketknife and a delicate silver bracelet. The knife’s blade had punctured the PVC pipe, causing the leak. The knife and the bracelet looked terribly familiar. 7 When I returned to our floor thirty minutes later, I unlocked the door to find Grace standing near the entrance, gripping the frame. She took two steps back at the sound of the door opening. “It’s me. I’m back,” I said. She let out a soft breath. “What was going on upstairs?” “Just a clogged drain. I took care of it.” “So fast?” “Well, that’s my job, remember?” I shut the door, stepping inside to take her hand. It was ice-cold. I squeezed her fingers and diverted her attention. “The pipe has a small crack, though. I’ll need to replace the elbow joint tomorrow to stop the dripping entirely.” She nodded. Then, her fingers twitched in mine. “By the way, did you see anyone in the hallway when you came down?” My muscles tensed, but my voice remained perfectly level. “No. Why do you ask?” “Someone knocked on the door while you were gone. At first, I thought you forgot your keys.” “Did you open it?” “No, of course not. The knock was off-beat. I knew right away it wasn’t you.” “Probably just a neighbor at the wrong door.” My eyes swept over the entryway. Resting against the wall just inside the threshold was a fresh corpse. I had brought him in when I opened the door. When I came down from the upstairs apartment, I had spotted a man pressed against our door, looking through the empty peephole. I didn’t make a sound. I crept up behind him, neutralized him, and slipped him inside. To keep Grace from panicking, I kept my voice light and steady while quietly dragging the heavy body into the shadows of the closet. I still had work to do tonight. 8 I guided her to the bed and tucked the blanket around her. “You should get some sleep. I have to go out again.” Her fingers lightly traced the edge of the blanket. “Going out again? Is it really that busy tonight?” “Yeah, probably because of the rain. Pipes are bursting all over town.” I kept my voice casual, turning off the main light and leaving only the dim bedside lamp. “Alright. Be careful. Come back soon.” Her voice softened in the dim room. I waited until her breathing became slow and rhythmic before slipping back to the entryway. The heavy body of the dead intruder was waiting for me. I forced him into a large suitcase. This guy was much broader than the last one, and the zipper snagged halfway. I had to press down hard on his shoulder before the mechanism finally clicked shut. As I locked the door behind me, I took a quick glance through the peephole. The severed finger was back in place, sitting like a quiet, hidden nail. The motion-activated lights in the stairwell flickered weakly. My suitcase rattled against the concrete steps as I hauled it down. At the fourth floor, I stopped. I spun around, looking up into the darkness. The stairwell was deathly silent. But a primal instinct told me that somewhere in the shadow of the landing above, a figure was pressed flat against the wall, quietly tracking my descent. 9 I didn’t call out. Instead, a silent smile crept onto my face as I kept walking. The weight of the suitcase made my wrists ache, each step feeling like a silent tug-of-war with the shadow behind me. Down in the sub-basement, I opened the sewer hatch. The pungent stench of dissolving flesh rose to meet me. I glanced back toward the exit, keeping my movements deliberate. I tipped the heavy bag into the dark void and poured the acid. The dark liquid hissed and bubbled as it dissolved the skin and bone. I watched the thick white steam rise until the sound faded completely, then slid the heavy cover back into place. Heading back up, I intentionally slowed my pace, pausing on each landing. Sure enough, by the time I reached the sixth floor, I heard the faint, hurried rustle of bare feet rushing up the stairs ahead of me. The stalker was trying desperately to get back before I did. I hid in the shadow of the sixth-floor landing and watched as a slender silhouette darted past the stairwell window. The hem of a white nightgown fluttered in the dark, disappearing up toward the eighth floor. When I reached our door, I didn’t open it immediately. I pressed my ear to the wood, listening to the ticking of the living room clock. Only then did I slide my key into the lock, turning it as silently as possible. The apartment was dark except for a sliver of light coming from the bedroom. I crept to the door and peered through the crack. Grace was curled under the covers, her back to me, her long dark hair spread across the pillow. She looked deeply asleep. But I knew better. Her skin would still be cool from the concrete stairs. The person who had followed me into the dark was her.

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