Category: English

The day SAT ended, my class decided to throw a party. At one point, someone suggested we play a “love compatibility game.” When it was Liam’s turn, the party room went quiet for a moment. Four words flashed across the screen: “Total softie for love.” The entire class erupted. Someone joked, “I always thought Liam was a total ice-king, but he’s actually a softie for love?” Liam was my secret boyfriend of three years. I was about to open my mouth and say Liam was anything but a softie for love, but Chloe spoke first. “You guys found out.” She said, then linked her arm through Liam’s. “He really is a softie, so clingy. He even insisted on going to the same university as me.” Liam smiled gently and tightly clasped Chloe’s hand. Chloe smiled, looking around. “I didn’t mean to keep it from you all, but before the SATs, I was worried it would affect Liam’s studies if we went public.” She leaned her head on Liam’s shoulder. “And our families have known each other forever. We’re childhood sweethearts. My mom said as soon as the acceptance letters come in, she’s throwing us an engagement party!” Liam didn’t push her away. He just took a sip of his ice water, his face devoid of expression. The whole room was silent. Someone in the corner whispered, “I won! I told you Chloe and Liam were a thing, and you guys didn’t believe me.” “Seriously? They kept it so quiet!” “Didn’t you notice? Liam only ever lent his study notes to Chloe. When he played basketball, Chloe was always in the front row handing him water. Even for college applications this time, Liam applied to the same city as Chloe!” Everyone exchanged glances, cheers rising in waves. I sat in the farthest corner, holding a glass. My fingertips felt numb with cold. All those details they talked about made me incredibly uncomfortable. He didn’t have time to organize his study notes; I stayed up three nights copying them for him. The soda he drank during basketball games? I saved half a month’s breakfast money to buy cases of it and had someone carry them to the court. Even college applications… He had said, “Aurora, romance affects studies. We’ll talk after the SATs.” He had said, “Aurora, I want to go to New York with you.” Because of that sentence, I gave up my original college applications. It turned out he wasn’t cold to everyone. I thought we’d meet at the top together. It turned out he was just enjoying having an all-in-one caretaker manage everything for him, and the only person he truly loved was his childhood sweetheart. The students’ cheers grew louder: “Liam, say something! Is that a yes?” Liam finally moved. Not only did he not deny it, but he clasped Chloe’s wrist, lowering his voice, “Stop it.” His tone was full of indulgence. Then, he looked up, his gaze sweeping over the crowd, landing on me. But it quickly moved away, as if I were just an insignificant passerby. Chloe smiled even sweeter, adding, “Our families have even picked out our wedding home. Everyone has to come to our wedding, okay?” The entire room erupted again. I suddenly felt it hard to breathe, as if all the air had been sucked out of the party room. I stood up, not looking at anyone, and walked straight to the door. “Hey? Where’s Aurora going?” someone asked. “To the restroom,” I said, without turning my head. The moment I closed the party room door, I heard someone inside say, “Aurora’s been chasing Liam relentlessly. She’s getting what she deserves now!” “Please, with her pathetic, desperate act, does she even deserve him?” I rushed into the restroom, locked myself in a stall, covered my mouth, and silently cried. Three years of hidden devotion, three years of a secret relationship — in his eyes, it wasn’t even worth a joke. My phone vibrated in my pocket. It was a message from Liam: “Let’s talk later, don’t throw a tantrum.” I forced a smile, typing a few words on the screen: “Liam, we’re over.” A hot summer breeze hit me, but I shivered from cold. When I reached the intersection, I turned my phone back on to call a ride. The screen lit up. There was no plea from Liam, only a text from an unknown number: “Aurora, right? I want to talk to you about your college applications. I’m Liam’s mom.”

The next morning, at a coffee shop downtown. Eve, Liam’s mom, sat across from me, elegantly sipping her tea, not even bothering to look at me directly. She pushed over an agreement and a bank card. “I know about you and Liam,” she said, her voice cold, with a condescending sneer. “Aurora, it’s important to know your place.” I sat frozen, my fingers tightly gripping the hem of my shirt. “Your grades were good enough to get you into a top school like Stanford, but to go to the same city as Liam, you intentionally chose Columbia University in New York. Am I right?” I didn’t speak. Eve sneered. “Too bad, Liam and Chloe already got into Cornell University. Even if you go to New York, you’ll only be at a step-down school like Columbia. Did you really think you could cling to him in the same city?” My head spun. Liam had never told me! It turned out he’d always had a backup plan, while I foolishly gambled my future for him. “There’s two hundred thousand in this card,” Eve tapped the table. “Sign this agreement, promise never to contact Liam again, and this money will be my charity to help you pay for college.” “I don’t want your money.” I gritted my teeth, my voice trembling. Eve’s eyes narrowed. “Your dad’s struggling factory? Half of its orders this year come from our company’s patronage. If you don’t know what’s good for you, your family’s going to have a very hard time for the rest of the year.” My blood instantly froze. Just then, the coffee shop door opened. Liam strode in, wearing a well-tailored white shirt, still looking as neat as he had for the past three years I loved him. I shot up, a final flicker of hope igniting in my eyes. He glanced at me, then walked to Eve’s side: “Mom, I’ll handle it.” Then, he turned to me, his gaze colder than I’d ever seen it: “Aurora, just sign it.” “What did you say?” I couldn’t believe my ears. “Chloe has a delicate heart; she can’t handle stress. If she knew about you and me, she’d get sick.” Liam frowned. “Columbia University isn’t bad. For the tuition… I can have my mom compensate you.” “Liam.” I heard my voice tremble. “You want me to sign an agreement, admitting I was the one harassing you?” “What else?” he retorted, his self-righteousness chilling. “These past three years, you willingly acted as my assistant, allowing me to use you, didn’t you?” I looked at the man before me, feeling utterly alien. I didn’t take the card. Instead, I grabbed the agreement from the table, tore it to shreds, and threw it hard in his face. “Liam, you disgust me.” I turned and stormed out of the coffee shop, not looking back. A few days later, our class reunion dinner. The homeroom teacher explicitly called me and made me go. Pushing open the party room door, Chloe and Liam were clearly the center of attention. Someone asked me, “Aurora, where did you end up getting accepted?” I looked down: “Columbia University.” Chloe covered her mouth, exclaiming in “surprise”: “Oh, that’s too bad! You almost got to be classmates with Liam and me at Cornell. But Columbia University is good too! Liam said we’re all classmates, and he’ll look out for you in New York.” Hearing this, Liam said indifferently, “Honey, eat. Don’t worry about other people’s business.” Everyone around them laughed and agreed, every word praising how perfect they were for each other, every word mocking my presumption. When the dinner ended, I stood alone by the road, waiting for the bus. A brand-new BMW pulled up in front of me. The window rolled down, revealing Liam’s unreadable face. It was the car his family rewarded him with for his summer job. “Get in, I’ll drop you off.” His tone was like an act of charity. I stepped back, shaking my head. The rear window immediately rolled down, and Chloe poked her head out, smiling sweetly. “Aurora, don’t be shy. Liam just seems cold, but he’s really warm-hearted. He takes good care of old classmates. Come on up.” Looking at them, my stomach churned. Just then, my phone rang. “Dad” flashed on the screen.

As soon as I answered, my father’s hoarse, tearful voice came through: “Aurora, something happened at the factory… That most important order was canceled. We have to pay a penalty… I’m so sorry, I might not be able to afford your college tuition anymore…” What does it feel like when your world collapses? I didn’t know before, but now I did. That crucial order for my father’s factory was with a company under Liam’s family. They unilaterally canceled the contract, citing “substandard quality,” and demanded a massive penalty. Our family’s economic pillar instantly crumbled. My mother, overwhelmed by stress, suffered a sudden cerebral hemorrhage that night and was rushed to the hospital. The machines in the ICU beeped, “drip-drip,” burning through money every second. I frantically ran around like a madwoman, humbly knocking on every relative’s door. “Aurora, it’s not that I won’t lend you money, but your dad’s hole is too big, we can’t fill it.” “Did your family offend some bigshot? We can’t get involved.” I was met with cold shoulders and couldn’t borrow a single dollar. College tuition and my mother’s medical bills weighed on me like two crushing mountains. Just when I was at my wit’s end, Chloe contacted me. In a coffee shop across from the city hospital, Chloe, in an elegant dress, pushed a thick envelope toward me. “Aurora, I heard your mom’s in the hospital? Take this money for emergencies.” “I know you like Liam.” I stared at the envelope, not moving. Chloe sighed, leaning closer, her eyes holding a hint of condescending disdain and malice. “Oh, by the way, you probably don’t know why everyone in class suddenly turned against you that day at the dinner party, do you?” She lowered her voice and chuckled. “Before the SATs, I secretly looked at Liam’s phone. I picked a few segments of your chats where you actively sought him out and took screenshots. Now, everyone thinks you’re a persistent, clingy tramp willing to be a mistress.” My blood instantly rushed backward, and I glared at her. No wonder! No wonder the whole class was laughing at me! “Don’t be stubborn. You know Liam has a soft spot.” Chloe sat up straight. “This money… consider it peace of mind for you. Don’t bother him and his mother anymore, and don’t try to use your dad’s bankruptcy to gain sympathy, okay?” I abruptly stood up and splashed a glass of ice water directly onto her face. “Take your money and get out.” Chloe shrieked, drawing stares from everyone in the coffee shop. Shortly after returning to the hospital, Liam’s call came in. As soon as I answered, his furious voice exploded: “Aurora, are you crazy? Why are you taking it out on Chloe! Was that sweet, obedient girl act all fake?” I leaned tiredly against the wall: “She went to you to complain?” “She kindly brought you money, and not only are you ungrateful, you splashed water on her?” Liam’s voice was full of impatience. “Let me tell you. My family doesn’t owe you anything. Your dad’s factory issue is a business problem; he didn’t do his quality control properly. Don’t blame my family. Chloe isn’t well, don’t keep bothering her!” “Business problem?” I laughed, tears streaming down my hand. “Liam, do you dare swear your mom didn’t pull strings behind the scenes?” “Aurora, you’re absolutely unreasonable.” He coldly threw out one last sentence, “If you keep acting like this, no one can save you.” The call ended. At eleven PM, the nurse station called: “Family of Room 3, if you don’t pay the fees tomorrow, we’ll have to stop the medication.” I crouched in the cold hospital hallway, looking at the mere ten-odd dollars remaining on my bank card. Despair washed over me like a tide. Trembling, I dialed Liam’s number. This was my last time bowing to him.

The phone rang for a long time. The moment it connected, Chloe’s soft, drowsy voice came through the receiver: “Who is it… Liam’s already asleep. Is something wrong this late?” After a while, she chuckled softly: “Oh, it’s Aurora. Are you short on money? Let’s talk tomorrow, don’t wake him up…” The call was immediately disconnected. I scrolled through my contact list, hundreds of names, but I couldn’t find a single person to ask for help. Finally, my gaze stopped on a familiar name—Ethan. A transfer student in senior year, always skipping class and getting into fights, with the worst grades, but seemingly from a very wealthy background. He always teased me. Once, he handed me a crumpled business card, grinning mischievously, “If you’re in trouble, call me.” With trembling fingers, I dialed the number I thought I’d never call in my life. “Where are you?” The moment the call connected, Ethan didn’t waste a single word. Half an hour later, a black Aston Martin screeched to a halt in front of the hospital. Ethan, in a loose black T-shirt, with messy hair, but sharp eyes, rushed straight to the payment desk without a word. He paid all the overdue fees with his card, and even pulled strings to get the best neurosurgeon from out of state transferred overnight. He still had that playful, rebellious look, leaning against the hallway wall, twirling his car keys. “Don’t look at me like that. This money is a loan, and there’ll be interest.” I cried in front of him like a broken mess, and he just handed me a pack of tissues. “Alright, someone taller will bear the weight if the sky falls.” With Ethan’s help, my mother’s condition temporarily stabilized, and I finally got a moment to breathe. To repay the money and earn college tuition, Ethan asked me to do a short-term internship in one of his company’s project teams. Although it was mostly running errands and odd jobs, the pay was surprisingly generous. A few afternoons later, I walked out of Ethan’s company building, carrying a stack of files. A familiar BMW was parked at the bottom of the steps. Liam got out of the car and blocked my path. “Aurora, are you really going to stoop this low?” I looked at him coldly: “Move.” “For money, you’ll throw away all your dignity, and hang out with trash like Ethan?” Liam gritted his teeth, “After leaving me, are you only fit to be a plaything for people like him!” I found it utterly ridiculous and couldn’t be bothered to explain anything to him. “Does it concern you what I do?” I walked around him. Liam grabbed my wrist: “I offered you money, but you refused! Now you’re here selling yourself? Are you being fair to your parents?” I swung my hand back and slapped him hard across the face. “Don’t talk about my parents, you’re not worthy.” I shook off his hand and walked away without looking back. However, the very next day, several candid photos suddenly went viral in the class SnapChat group. The photos were blurry, but clearly showed me getting into Ethan’s car, and also a picture of me and Ethan talking outside a fancy restaurant, from an extremely ambiguous angle. The caption was vicious: “No wonder she used to follow Liam, and now she’s not. Turns out she’s latched onto a richer branch. Pretending to be so pure, but still just a plaything for rich men.” I looked at the messages in the group, my hands and feet turning cold. Immediately after, Chloe Snapchatted me privately. She sent a screenshot of her chat with Liam. Liam: “She’s changed. She’ll do anything for money. I really misjudged her.” Chloe replied: “Forget it, Liam. To each their own. I just didn’t expect her to be so eager. It’s only been a few days since her mom passed away, and she’s already in the mood to hook up with a rich guy…” What? My mom was clearly still in the ICU, and Chloe was cursing her like that behind my back! Just as I was about to be crushed by this overwhelming malice, my phone rang with a jarring sound. It was the hospital. “Aurora! Come to the hospital immediately! Your mother suddenly developed severe complications and urgently needs brain surgery! You need to pay eight hundred thousand for the surgery right away, or she won’t make it!” I rushed to the hospital like a madwoman. Ethan’s phone was temporarily unreachable. He had gone out of town with his father to handle an urgent project. The whole world seemed to shrink to just me, rapidly plummeting into the abyss of despair. Just then, my phone screen lit up. It was a text message from Liam. It contained a picture and a sentence. I trembling clicked on the picture. In the photo, my father was kneeling on the ground, humbly before Eve, holding a pen, ready to sign an agreement that waived all claims and accepted the exorbitant penalty. Liam’s message said: “Beg me. Or, let your dad go to jail.”

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My husband, Ethan, recently became obsessed with miniature landscapes. He set up a massive ecosystem tank in our master bedroom and strictly forbade me from touching it. One night, getting up to use the restroom, I thought I heard faint panting coming from the tank. As I leaned closer, a mechanical voice suddenly echoed in my mind, followed by a torrent of frantic messages: [OMG, Aurora still thinks he’s raising ants in there.] [Ethan got a shrinking potion just to get off with Chloe by Aurora’s bed. So wild!] [Having sex in the ecosystem tank right in front of his wife, Ethan sure knows how to find thrills!] I’m Aurora, and Chloe is Ethan’s distant cousin. I looked at the two rice-sized figures, frantically having sex in the tank, then turned and walked to the kitchen, grabbing a can of bug spray. “What are you doing, standing in front of my ecosystem tank with bug spray in the middle of the night instead of sleeping?” Ethan’s voice suddenly cut through the silence from behind me, laced with clear panic and suppressed fury. I turned around. He stood barefoot in the bedroom doorway, wearing nothing but boxer briefs. His chest heaved violently, his forehead covered in fine beads of sweat, and even his hair was soaked. I looked at the bug spray in my hand, then at him. “We have bugs,” I said. “If there are bugs, just kill them! Why are you spraying bug spray into my tank?” He strode over, snatching the plastic bottle from my hand. I looked up at his disheveled state. “Weren’t you sleeping in the guest room?” I asked. “Why are you covered in sweat?” His eyes darted away, and his voice immediately rose. “Can’t I get up at night? I just did a set of burpees in the living room. What’s wrong with a little sweat?” “Two-thirty in the morning, doing burpees in the living room in your boxer briefs?” “I’ve been stressed lately, can’t sleep. Working out helps release some energy. Got a problem with that?” He slammed the bug spray onto the nightstand. “The moss and miniature plants in this ecosystem tank are expensive imports. Even a drop of chemicals will ruin them. Stay out of the master bedroom from now on, and don’t you *dare* touch my tank.” So *that’s* what your tank is for, huh. The mechanical voice in my head chimed again, accompanied by frantically scrolling messages. [OMG, OMG, I almost died of fright! Aurora was actually going to spray bug spray!] [Good thing Ethan reacted fast, instantly using the ‘Grow Bigger’ and ‘Teleport’ functions, or he and Chloe would’ve been poisoned to death in there.] [Ethan’s excuse is so lame, burpees in the middle of the night, LOL.] [But Aurora totally bought it, because in the original story, she’s just a blindly devoted fool when it comes to Ethan.] [Poor Chloe, she was just getting into it, then Ethan suddenly disappeared. Now she’s naked and shivering behind the miniature rock formation in the ecosystem tank.] I lowered my head slightly, my gaze sweeping over the five-foot-long giant ecosystem tank. The tank was adorned with a realistic miniature rainforest, complete with miniature rock formations, a flowing stream, and intricate vines. Behind the rock formation in the far corner, I vaguely saw a tiny, unnatural fleshy spot. It was minuscule, only the size of a grain of rice, and it was trembling slightly. So the mistress was still in there. “What are you looking at?” Ethan took a step forward, blocking my view. “Nothing,” I retracted my gaze. “Just thinking the landscaping in this tank is quite unique.” “It’s unique, but it’s none of your business.” He scowled and pointed towards the door. “Get out, I’m going to sleep.” “I thought you had insomnia?” “Just worked out, now I’m tired.” He pushed me towards the door. I walked out, yielding to his force. “Fine, then get some good sleep,” I said. The door slammed shut in front of me and was locked. I stood in the hallway, listening to the faint sounds from inside. The messages continued. [Ethan is so manly, he kicked his wife out just to protect Chloe.] [Hurry, hurry, Ethan, change back! Chloe’s waiting for you behind the rock formation.] [Tonight’s thrill isn’t over yet, keep going!] I turned around expressionlessly and walked back to the guest room. Ethan is a partner at an architectural design firm, always impeccably dressed in suits, looking every inch the respectable professional. We’ve been married for two years, and he’s always touted himself as a man of principle, a perfectionist with a clean freak obsession. He’d even frown and spend ages vacuuming if I dropped a single hair on the couch. Now, to pursue so-called “thrills,” he was shrinking himself down to roll around in a tank full of dirt and moss with another woman. I lay on the bed in the guest room, staring at the ceiling. Bug spray would be letting them off way too easy. Since they loved the miniature world so much, and loved seeking thrills… then I’d let them experience what *true* thrill was like in that tank.

“Aurora, don’t look at me like that, you’re scaring me.” The next evening, I pushed open the front door after work and heard that sugary sweet line. Chloe sat on the living room sofa, wearing an oversized men’s white dress shirt, with the collar open, revealing her collarbones. I recognized that shirt; Ethan had bought that limited edition last month. Ethan came out of the kitchen, carrying a bowl of cut fruit, which he placed in front of her. “Aurora, you’re back.” He glanced at me, his tone flat. “Chloe just arrived in the city looking for a job, she has nowhere to stay, so she’s crashing with us for a few days.” Chloe took a bite of an apple and flashed me a sweet smile. “Aurora, you don’t mind, do you? Ethan and I are like siblings.” “Like siblings?” I walked over, staring at the shirt she was wearing. “Do siblings share clothes now?” “Aurora, please don’t misunderstand. I just arrived, and my clothes got dirty, so Ethan lent me this.” Chloe turned and tugged on Ethan’s sleeve. “Ethan, maybe I should just go. I don’t want to cause trouble between you and Aurora.” Ethan immediately stood up when he heard that. “What do you mean, go? This is your home.” He turned to me, his brows tightly furrowed. “Aurora, can you stop being so petty? Chloe’s a young woman out on her own, what’s wrong with me looking out for her?” “I just asked about the shirt.” “Even asking isn’t allowed! Your tone is just dripping with sarcasm.” Ethan slammed the fruit bowl onto the coffee table. “It’s bad enough you act like a boss at work, but you come home and put on airs for my cousin too? Who do you think you are?” Seeing his self-righteous expression, I actually found it amusing. The messages floated across my mind right on cue. [Hahaha, Aurora’s speechless, isn’t she?] [Chloe played that retreat-to-advance card perfectly, Ethan’s practically melting with sympathy.] [Wearing Ethan’s white shirt? So hot. Later, when they shrink, they should totally do it in his shirt pocket.] [Yes, yes, right under Aurora’s nose, in Ethan’s shirt pocket, just thinking about it is thrilling.] I averted my gaze, pulled out a dining chair, and sat down. “Fine, if she’s your cousin, she can stay.” I picked up a glass of water and took a sip. “Which room?” “The guest room,” Ethan said. “Then where do I sleep?” “You’ll sleep with me in the master bedroom,” he said, as if it were obvious. I raised an eyebrow. Last night he kicked me out of the master bedroom, and today he wants me back? Looks like he has some new tricks up his sleeve. “Alright,” I agreed readily. Dinner was takeout Ethan ordered, all Chloe’s favorite spicy Mexican dishes. I have a sensitive stomach; we usually cook very light meals at home. I couldn’t eat any of it. “Aurora, why aren’t you eating?” Chloe picked up a large chili pepper and put it in my bowl. “Are you saying the takeout isn’t clean?” “I have a sensitive stomach; I can’t eat spicy food.” I picked the chili pepper out. “Oh, you’re so fussy,” Chloe pouted. “Ethan used to love spicy food. He hasn’t had a proper, satisfying meal in ages, just to accommodate you.” She turned to Ethan, her face full of concern. “Ethan, you’re so pathetic. Getting married and losing your freedom to even eat what you want.” Ethan sighed, his eyes filled with helplessness and indulgence. “Can’t be helped, I married her after all. You eat more, don’t mind her.” I put down my forks and quietly watched their performance. After dinner, Ethan couldn’t wait, practically dragging Chloe into the master bedroom. “Chloe, didn’t you say you were interested in miniature landscapes? I’ll show you the ecosystem tank I just set up.” “Oh yes, yes, Ethan, you’re amazing, you can do anything.” The door closed in front of me, but it wasn’t locked. I walked to the bathroom and turned on the faucet to wash my face. The messages in my mind were already practically flooding the screen. [Here it comes, here it comes, the main event!] [Chloe has already drunk the shrinking potion, Ethan is taking off his clothes.] [Tonight’s script is sex on Aurora’s pillow! So wild!] I dried my face, then casually picked up a half-empty bottle of disinfectant from the counter and unscrewed the cap. “Since you’re going to play on my pillow, I’ll disinfect it for you.”

When I pushed open the master bedroom door, the room was quiet. Ethan sat on the rug in front of the ecosystem tank, holding a pair of tweezers, seemingly focused on trimming the moss. Chloe was gone. Or rather, the normal-sized Chloe was gone. “What are you doing in here?” Ethan asked without looking up, his tone very impatient. “I came to get something.” I walked to the bed, my gaze sweeping over my side of the pillow. On the white pillowcase, there was an incredibly tiny indentation. If you weren’t looking closely, you’d never notice it. The messages were flashing frantically. [OMG, Aurora is here! Right next to them!] [Chloe is lying right in the folds of the pillow, and Ethan’s finger is on her.] [This angle is insane; Aurora’s huge face leaning over, the pressure is so strong.] [Stay calm, Ethan, don’t let her find out.] I looked at Ethan’s left hand, resting on the edge of the pillow. His index finger was subtly rubbing the folds of the pillowcase at an almost imperceptible rhythm. His breathing was heavy, and though his eyes were fixed on the ecosystem tank, his peripheral vision kept darting towards the pillow. “What are you getting?” His voice was a little hoarse. “Disinfectant,” I said, holding up the bottle. “What are you doing with disinfectant?” He turned, his eyes wary. “I think the room smells a bit off.” I twisted the nozzle. “Maybe it hasn’t been aired out properly lately; even the pillows smell musty.” I aimed the nozzle at my pillow. Ethan’s face instantly changed. “Stop it!” He lunged forward, snatching the disinfectant from my hand with such force that he shoved me two steps back, my lower back hitting the nightstand. “What the hell are you doing?” he roared at me. “I’m disinfecting my own pillow, why am I going crazy?” I steadied myself, looking at him confused. “The smell of this disinfectant will get into the tank! How many times have I told you, miniature plants are delicate!” He threw the disinfectant directly into the trash can. “If you think this room smells bad, then go sleep in the guest room!” Watching his fingers tremble slightly from tension, I chuckled internally. The messages had already exploded. [I almost died of fright! Almost got sprayed with disinfectant!] [Aurora must be doing this on purpose, right? Has she figured something out?] [Nice one, Ethan, that’s how you put her in her place and make her leave.] “Fine, I’ll leave.” I didn’t argue, turning to walk out. “Wait.” Ethan called out to me. He walked to the nightstand, picked up a jewelry box, and threw it at my feet. “Take your stuff, it’s an eyesore.” The jewelry box hit the floor and popped open. A crystal bracelet rolled out, cracking into three pieces with a sharp snap. It was something my mother left me before she passed away last year. I looked at the shattered jade on the floor and felt my heart being brutally squeezed. “What are you doing?” I looked up, my voice trembling.

“How was I supposed to know it would fall out?” Ethan’s tone softened a little, but quickly hardened again. “It’s just a cheap old bracelet, isn’t it? Such poor quality, how much could it be worth? I’ll just get you a new one tomorrow.” “My mom left this to me.” “So what if your mom left it to you? Whose fault is it that you didn’t put it away properly?” He waved his hand dismissively. “Alright, don’t stand there looking so mournful. Clean it up and get out. Don’t disturb my landscaping.” Mom told me when she gave me the bracelet that if I married the right man, I wouldn’t need to wear it. But if I married the wrong man, this bracelet would be my last resort, my ultimate security. I had smiled then, saying, “Ethan is so good, how could I possibly marry the wrong man?” He really was good back then, so good that I thought having him was all I needed for this life. I squatted down, picking up the broken jade piece by piece. The broken pieces were sharp, cutting my fingers, and blood welled up. I didn’t feel the pain. I just felt that the idea of spraying them to death with disinfectant earlier was far too merciful. “Alright, I’ll clean it up.” I stood up, put the shattered jade back in the box, and turned to walk out of the master bedroom. That night, I sat at my computer in the guest room all night. I didn’t cry, and I didn’t make a scene. I simply ordered a few extremely tiny pinhole cameras online, along with an industrial-grade temperature control system. Ethan, you like miniature worlds so much, don’t you? You think nothing in this world is more important than your thrills, right? Then I’ll help you make that world a little more perfect. “I hope you two enjoy your stay in this tank,” I said softly, looking at the order confirmation page on my computer screen.

That weekend, Ethan said he was throwing a welcome party for Chloe and invited a few colleagues from his company over for dinner. I didn’t want to join the commotion, but he insisted I attend, claiming it would “look bad” if I wasn’t there to greet everyone. At noon, colleagues began to arrive. The living room was bustling. Chloe, in a floral dress, moved through the crowd like a diligent hostess, serving drinks and laughing flirtatiously. “Chloe is so thoughtful, Ethan is lucky.” “She really is, her cooking is better than restaurant food.” Several male colleagues complimented her without reservation. Ethan sat in the center of the sofa, beaming. “Of course, Chloe has always been skilled with her hands, unlike *some* people who, even after marriage, won’t even step foot in the kitchen.” He glanced at me, pointedly. I sat quietly in a corner armchair, sipping plain water, pretending not to hear. “Aurora, dinner’s ready!” Chloe walked out with the last dish, warmly calling to me. Everyone sat around the dining table. Chloe specifically pushed a plate of peanut butter fried chicken in front of me. “I made this just for you. See if you like it.” I frowned slightly. “I’m allergic to peanuts, don’t you know that?” The atmosphere at the table instantly chilled. Chloe immediately covered her mouth, her eyes welling up with feigned grievance. “I’m sorry, I… I really forgot. I just remembered Ethan loves this dish the most, so I just made it.” She looked at Ethan for help. Ethan, as expected, did not disappoint her and immediately scowled. “Aurora, what’s wrong with you? Chloe worked so hard to make all this food, why are you being so nitpicky?” “I’m just stating a fact; I can’t eat peanuts.” “If you can’t eat it, just pick it out! Do you have to be a killjoy when everyone’s having a good time?” Ethan slammed his fork onto the table. “If you don’t want to eat, then don’t! Go back to your room.” Several colleagues exchanged glances. “Ethan, she’s allergic, let it go,” someone tried to mediate. “What ‘body type’? She’s just being dramatic!” Ethan snorted. “Aurora, my bad, really. Here, let me get you some soup as an apology.” Chloe offered a bowl of soup. To leave quickly, I drank it. Less than a minute later, my throat started to tighten, and my breathing grew shallow. Large red rashes quickly broke out on my skin, itching terribly. “Aurora, what’s wrong with you?” Chloe called out, feigning surprise. I clutched my chest, gasping for air, trying to stand up from the chair, but my legs buckled, and I tumbled to the floor. “Aurora, what are you faking now?” Ethan sat in his chair, not moving an inch. “How serious can a bowl of soup be? Don’t embarrass me in front of my colleagues!” My airway was already seizing up; I couldn’t even get out a full sentence. The colleagues around finally realized something was seriously wrong. “Ethan, she really looks bad, her face is turning purple!” “Call 911!” The scene devolved into chaos, some rushing to help me, others grabbing their phones to call. Only then did Ethan stand up and walk over, looking down at me. “Such a pain, can’t even eat a meal in peace.” He didn’t help me up, nor did he come with me to the hospital. When the ambulance arrived, he merely asked a female colleague to accompany me. “I still have guests to entertain. You go with her, and I’ll cover the medical expenses,” he said dismissively, standing at the doorway. I lay in the hospital emergency room for four hours. After an IV drip and an anti-allergy shot, my breathing gradually stabilized. At midnight, the colleague had already gone home, and I was alone in the hospital room. I leaned against the headboard, took out my phone, and opened the home surveillance app. The footage from the master bedroom was crystal clear. Ethan and Chloe stood in front of the ecosystem tank. “Ethan, where should we play tonight?” Chloe’s voice came through the wiretap. “To her hospital room.” Ethan’s face was twisted in a wicked grin. “She’s probably half-dead in that bed right now. We’ll try it out right on her hospital bed; she’ll never know.” Messages instantly flooded the screen. [OMG, in a hospital bed? Ethan is so wild!] [Chloe’s poisoning move today was brilliant. It got Aurora out of the way so they could go find thrills in the hospital room.] [Hurry, hurry, I can’t wait to see them having sex right under Aurora’s nose.] I looked at the screen, a cold smile playing on my lips. On the screen, Chloe tilted her head back and drank a small bottle of blue liquid, instantly vanishing from the spot. Ethan vanished too. I put down my phone and glanced at the thermos of steaming hot water on the nightstand. “Alright, I’ll wait for you.”

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Six years ago, I saved a girl named Scarlett in a remote mountain village. I sponsored her education, and we became the best of friends. Yet, because she fell in love with my husband, Ethan Miller, she drove a car and ran me over. To escape responsibility and prevent my body from being identified, she crushed my head with the tires. She framed me as a fugitive wanted for highway robbery. Ethan Miller, the city’s top forensic expert, protected Scarlett. He personally fabricated the scene, intending for me to take the fall for her. The police launched a massive manhunt, determined to apprehend me. But no one knew. My body lay right there, before all of them. After I died, Scarlett immediately called Ethan. He rushed over. Upon seeing the death scene, he instinctively frowned. “How did it end up like this?” Even a seasoned forensic expert rarely encountered such a gruesome scene. The body lay twisted there. The entire head was gone. The road was covered in bloodstains and bone fragments. Faced with Ethan’s question, Scarlett chose to answer with tears. She sobbed, throwing herself into his arms, and after a long moment, managed to say, “I’m scared…” That one sentence melted Ethan’s resolve. He sighed softly. While comforting Scarlett, he began examining the crime scene. My death was truly hideous. Ethan had to first collect my bone fragments. He put on gloves and, with tweezers, painstakingly pieced together what remained of my skull. He frowned, examining it closely. “The victim’s head was run over multiple times, and her limbs are twisted.” “Her fingernails are torn from extreme force; she must have endured immense pain before death.” Based on his professional forensic skills, Ethan immediately sensed something was wrong. His frown deepened. “This death wasn’t just an accident.” I nodded frantically, wanting to scream and tell him. Scarlett deliberately ran me over. She was jealous of my happy life and tortured me brutally before I died. She then crushed my head to prevent my body from being identified. Alas, the dead cannot speak. But Scarlett’s tears easily won Ethan’s trust. She looked up, sobbing and gasping for air. “I didn’t mean to, it was this robber. Lily paid him to threaten me.” “I was so scared, I accidentally stepped on the gas instead of the brake.” Ethan silently watched the bone fragments in his hands, speaking in a calm tone. “Involuntary manslaughter usually carries a sentence of three to seven years in prison.” “Given the victim’s initial aggression, it could be argued as self-defense, potentially reducing the sentence to around three years.” Scarlett’s body trembled, and she shook her head vigorously. “No, I don’t want to go to jail, I don’t want to be separated from you.” “Ethan, please help me, won’t you?” “Don’t let my unborn child lose its mother!” Ethan’s frown deepened further, as if in contemplation. Scarlett started crying again. Her hands tightly gripped him, her last hope. Her flowing tears ultimately pierced Ethan’s heart. He remained silent for a long moment. Then, he gave my body a profound glance. “I’ll reconstruct the scene and make Lily take the blame for you.” “From now on, you need to remember every word I tell you.” I was stunned. Years ago, when Ethan and I first started dating, I accidentally took a photo of a crime scene. Usually composed, Ethan had a furious outburst at me. He said it was a desecration of the deceased, a disrespect for the body. “Lily, you’re a doctor, you should understand my professional ethics.” “These poor victims deserve respect, just like anyone who puts their trust in a medical professional.” “I won’t allow anyone to challenge my professional boundaries, not even you.” It took me a long time to calm Ethan down. From then on, I was cautious, never daring to cross that line. But now, he had met Scarlett. He not only abandoned all his professional ethics for her but was also willing to risk his entire future. Scarlett lowered her head, desperately trying to hide the smirk on her lips. Her voice was still so innocent. “But wouldn’t that be unfair to Lily?” Under the moonlight, a surgical scalpel glinted with a cold, menacing light. Ethan changed gloves. He took a scalpel from his car. “There’s nothing unfair about it. Lily is different from you.” “She has a successful career and a loving family.” “She can still live a good life after getting out of prison.” “You’ve come so far from that mountain village, it hasn’t been easy. I absolutely won’t let you fall back into the struggles you escaped.” “Lily… let’s just say I owe her. I’ll do my best to make it up to her when she gets out.” My shattered heart, though long ceased to beat, still felt an agonizing pang. A tear slipped in the night. I closed my eyes and silently said, Ethan, I admit you have the cunning to pull off such a deception. But this time, things won’t go your way. I won’t take the blame for Scarlett, as you wish. Because I’m already dead.

Ethan didn’t speak again. He lowered his head, intently focusing on my body. When he got to my hands, he suddenly paused. My heart lurched; I thought he’d seen the diamond ring on my finger. But he just calmly looked at Scarlett. “Did you two fight?” “Yes.” Scarlett nodded. She lowered her eyes, as if deeply wronged. After a long moment, she spoke with reluctance. “She said Lily told her to ruin my face.” “I was too scared, so I had no choice but to fight back.” A flicker of disdain crossed Ethan’s stern face. He scoffed, his doubts vanishing instantly. “So many years have passed, and Lily’s spoiled princess attitude hasn’t changed a bit.” “It might do her good to suffer a harsh lesson in prison.” “Maybe then she’ll wise up.” Saying this, he used forceps to pry open my stiff fingers, one by one. He was looking for any lingering traces hidden within the body. The nail on my index finger was gone. The other fingers were twisted to varying degrees. The diamond ring on my ring finger was caked in dried blood. If Ethan had paid a little more attention. He would have seen that the ring was engraved with our names. He had personally placed it on my finger. But he didn’t. His complete focus was on Scarlett. He carefully removed the skin tissue from beneath my fingernails. As if handling a work of art. Piece by piece, erasing Scarlett’s traces. I watched his focused, patient profile. Suddenly, I remembered our wedding day. That day, he had also looked so serious as he placed the ring on my hand. And together, we had vowed to be with each other through life and death. Now, to exonerate Scarlett. He broke his vows, abandoned his ethics. And personally desecrated my body. The skin tissue from beneath my nails was quickly cleaned. Ethan then turned his gaze to my slightly swollen abdomen. “Repeatedly driving over the victim goes far beyond the scope of self-defense.” “I need to re-examine the victim’s internal organs.” “Scarlett, if you’re scared, just close your eyes.” Scarlett nodded timidly. But her eyes held an unmistakable excitement. I sighed helplessly, marveling at Ethan’s naivety. Why would she be scared? She’s the one who killed me! She was the one who smashed my head with a roadside stone. And when I was barely clinging to life, she drove over me. I believe that with Ethan’s professional skill, it wouldn’t be hard to imagine the scene of my death. But he didn’t care. He didn’t care if the dead felt pain. He didn’t care how heartbroken I was when I found out about his affair. The evening breeze swept through. Clouds drifted, obscuring the moon. Scarlett held up her flashlight. Ethan positioned the scalpel toward my lower abdomen. At this moment, I stared wide-eyed, shaking my head repeatedly. “Ethan, no, don’t do it!” “You’ll regret this, you’ll definitely regret this!” I screamed at the top of my ethereal lungs. But no one could hear the cries of a soul. The blade sliced, and Ethan cut through my skin. The standard Y-incision, the very one I had personally taught him. After eight years together, Ethan had memorized all my habits. The way he held the knife, the decisiveness of his cuts. Even the details of the sutures were indistinguishable from mine. He truly was the genius forensic expert his professors always raved about. But… such a brilliant man. He failed to recognize that the body beneath his hands was me. Processing internal organs required utmost concentration. Ethan held his breath, the knife gliding over my body. Fat layer, muscle layer… Finally, the uterine wall. When the last cut was made. Ethan, who had been so calm and composed, finally broke. His hand trembled, and the knife skewed slightly. Ethan quickly regained his composure. But his voice was filled with shock. “She’s pregnant.” “How could a wanted fugitive be pregnant?” I closed my eyes in despair, unable to watch. “Ethan, because that was your child.” Our little life, expected for so many years, dreamt of day and night. Finally conceived.

This morning, I wasn’t feeling well. I went to the hospital for a check-up and found out I was three months pregnant. I placed the ultrasound report on the bedside table and prepared a candlelight dinner. I wanted to surprise Ethan when he came home from work. After dinner was ready, Scarlett called. She said she had something important to tell me. As soon as I arrived, I was hit by her car and sent flying. Scarlett, wearing high heels, stepped out of the car. She grabbed my hair and dragged my barely clinging body to the side of the road. She cursed through gritted teeth. “Lily, I know you were good to me.” “But only if you die can I become Mrs. Miller.” “Blame your bad luck for getting in the way of Ethan and me!” Only in my dying moments did I realize. My beloved husband had long been having an affair with my best friend. While I was working tirelessly, putting in endless overtime for our future. He was with Scarlett, having an affair in our bed. While I was pulling strings and calling in favors to help Scarlett find a decent job. She was lying in Ethan’s arms, laughing at my stupidity. I wanted to cry. But the pain in my body overshadowed the agony in my heart. The primal instinct to survive propelled me to crawl forward. I wanted to find a glimmer of hope for myself, for my unborn child. Even as my fingernails tore and bled, I dared not stop. Like a cat toying with its prey, she savored my agony. She drove her car, closing in on me. Slowly, she tortured my very soul. “Did you know, Ethan and I were already together in college?” “We were together for six years; I gave him my virginity.” “He told me he only loved me, and that he was with you to gain your family’s connections.” “Now that his career is stable and successful, he no longer needs you.” “So let me be the one to make this decision for him!” The car ran over my legs. I could distinctly hear the bones shattering. Then, my body, my head… After I was finally released from the pain. All I saw was my gruesome corpse. I desperately wanted to rush forward and take Scarlett down with me. I wanted to ask Ethan why he betrayed me. But I could do nothing. A helpless, ethereal soul. A pathetic woman betrayed by her husband. Could only drift alone in the silent night, weeping. I watched Ethan desecrate my body for Scarlett. Watched my closest, most trusted people conspire to frame me. Watched my poor child exposed to the air. Perhaps it was the unspoken bond of blood. I saw a flicker of hesitation in Ethan’s eyes. Scarlett’s lies were full of glaring inconsistencies. This blood-related child finally sparked a subtle doubt in him.

The next second, Scarlett grabbed Ethan’s hand, her voice agitated. “If the victim is pregnant, will that extend the sentence?” “Ethan, this child can’t be discovered.” “Lily taking the blame for me is already sad enough.” “We can’t let her entire life be ruined in prison!” Worry overshadowed doubt. Ethan’s attention returned to Scarlett. He composed himself, nodding gently. “You’re right.” “Three years in prison is already long enough for Lily.” “I’ll take care of this child.” He carried the tiny embryo to the riverbank. Silently, he let go. The swift current instantly swept it away. I tried to reach out and stop him, but my hand passed directly through Ethan’s body. And that tiny life was gone, leaving no trace. It was so small. So small it had no discernible weight. So small it couldn’t leave any lasting impression on Ethan’s heart. My tears were nearly spent. I thought at the end of my life, at least I would have this child by my side. Now, it had been brutally torn from my womb. With the body dealt with. Ethan continued his finishing touches. He cleaned the bloodstains, rearranged the body. He placed a scalpel I often used near the corpse. After ensuring everything was perfect, he calmly dialed 911. “Chief Miller, on my way home, I discovered a hit-and-run case.” “I’ve already examined the scene.” “Preliminary assessment suggests the time of death was 9:30 PM, near Greenwood Lane.” “The hit-and-run perpetrator… could very likely be my wife, Lily Miller.” After the crime scene photos were sent, they immediately drew high-level attention from the senior officers. The police promptly issued an arrest warrant. The continuous wail of police sirens echoed throughout the city. My photo, as the top suspect, appeared on the news headlines. Alongside mine was Ethan’s. Facing the interview cameras, he was composed and articulate, handling the situation with ease. “I love my wife very much, but I have my principles and unwavering professional ethics.” “After she’s released from prison, I will steadfastly stand by her side for the rest of our lives.” “But as a forensic expert, I will never distort or conceal the truth for anyone!” His striking appearance and emotional performance earned Ethan widespread praise. People expressed sympathy and regret. Such a good man, yet he was married to such an unworthy woman. Ethan called me many times, but there was no answer. He thought I had gotten wind of the investigation and fled. He didn’t realize I had been dead for quite some time. Suddenly, public outrage quickly escalated. The hospital where I worked immediately revoked my medical license and fired me. My parents published a notice disowning me. Saying I was a disgrace to our family, a stain on our name. Unworthy of their years of upbringing. Everyone around me condemned and reviled me. Wishing they could instantly distance themselves from me. Only Ethan was pleading for me. He gathered information on the robber Scarlett claimed to have encountered. He compiled it into new evidence and submitted it. “Chief Miller, while a hit-and-run is inexcusable, Lily’s actions were not without cause.” “The victim was a wanted fugitive robber; Lily acted in self-defense.” “Based on this, shouldn’t she receive a lighter sentence once she’s found?” The recipient took the information and looked it over, raising his head in confusion. “Professor Miller, could you be mistaken?” “That particular robber was apprehended three days ago and is currently serving time in our county jail.” “How could that be?” Ethan looked at the sheet-draped body in disbelief. His voice trembled with fear. “If the deceased isn’t that robber, then who could it be…?” Just as he spoke, the office door was pushed open. A junior officer rushed in with a file. “Chief, the DNA match results are in.” “The deceased… the deceased is Professor Miller’s wife, Lily Miller!”

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I started a TikTok account to vlog my daily life with my boyfriend. Unexpectedly, a few of my videos went completely viral, and I became a well-known “couple goals” influencer across the internet. Later, to fulfill a request from my followers, I decided to do a live stream of me surprising my boyfriend for his birthday. When the apartment door opened, out walked a beautiful woman wrapped only in a towel. Her slender, pale fingers hooked the takeout bag I was holding, without even glancing at my face. “The delivery is here. Why are you still standing there?” 01 In the fraction of a second I stood there stunned, the woman firmly slammed the door shut in my face. The live chat was filled with so many expletives that the auto-mod filtered it down to a wall of asterisks and emojis. “Did my eyes just deceive me?!” “How is there a woman?! I’m ***!” “To be precise, it’s a woman who just got out of the shower. This is absolutely *** insane!” The sheer magnitude of the shock left my brain buzzing. I looked up and double-checked the apartment number. The next second, I raised my fist and smashed the decorative wreath hanging on the door. “Who is it?” A familiar male voice approached the door from the inside. Moments later, the door swung inward, revealing a face I knew all too well. The man’s hair was dripping wet. He was shirtless, with only a towel wrapped around his waist. I stared in utter disappointment at Mason, standing inside the doorway. He looked like a deer caught in headlights. When he finally snapped out of it, he lunged to grab the deadbolt. But before he could even make his next move, I had already kicked the door hard. “You really are a toad chasing a swan—ugly as sin but playing the field like a pro. I spent hours making this birthday surprise, and you pull this crap on me?” “Chloe, listen, I can explain.” “Explain what? Do you think I’m blind? If I came a minute later, would I have caught you trying to make the next generation?” My gaze swept past Mason, landing on the gift bag sitting on the entryway table. Inside was the result of my entire morning’s work. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I shoved past him and aggressively ripped open the bag. Mason followed right behind me, still trying to make excuses. I simply picked up the cake and slammed it directly onto his head like a basketball dunk. “I made this cake from scratch! If I’d known, I wouldn’t even feed it to a pig, let alone you!” 02 “Babe, what’s going on?” A soft, breathy female voice drifted from the bedroom. The apartment instantly went dead silent. Mason avoided my eyes, looking completely humiliated. I let out a cold laugh. Holding the remains of the cake, I kicked the bedroom door open. The curvaceous woman from earlier, wearing nothing but a towel, was lying on the bed. A black silk blindfold covered her eyes, making it impossible for her to see who had just walked in. She changed her voice into a sickly-sweet, high-pitched whine: “Come here, babe.” I slammed the rest of the cake right into her face: “Your daddy’s here!” “Ahhh!” She shrieked, but because her hands were tied to the bedposts, she could only writhe helplessly. “Who the hell are you?!” “Guess who?” I said as I pressed the cake board down harder, not wanting to waste a single drop of frosting. “Chloe, you’re dead! Let me go right now! Babe was right, you’re nothing but a psycho bitch. This is a nightmare!” I burst out laughing, my laughter growing louder and more exaggerated by the second. “Trash belongs in the dumpster! You two are playing house now, but you’ll be pushing daisies tomorrow!” “Babe, help me!” the woman whimpered softly. I looked back and glared at Mason standing in the doorway. He was gripping the doorframe so hard his knuckles were white, trembling all over. Hmph. Useless. I pinched the woman’s chin and shoved another glob of frosting into her mouth. “Your ‘babe’ is currently having a seizure at the door. He can’t even save himself, let alone you. Forget it.” The woman continued to sob quietly, twisting her slender waist. “Babe…” “Are you a chicken laying an egg? Cluck, cluck, cluck? You’re still doing that fake baby voice now? You can’t even cry normally!” Mason couldn’t watch anymore. “Stop it, Chloe. Mia is just a fragile girl. She can’t handle you beating and cursing at her like this.” 03 “Let’s get one thing straight. I haven’t laid a hand on her. You know I’m a straight shooter. I don’t use my mouth to talk shit.” I got off the bed, grabbed Mason’s expensive suit jacket hanging nearby, and wiped my hands aggressively on it. He winced, sucking in a breath of air. “Chloe, that jacket cost a fortune…” “Is it worth more than your coffin?” I sneered. I bought this entire closet full of clothes for him, and now he’s acting like he’s the one who paid for it. As I turned to leave, I looked at the woman flopping like a dying fish on the bed and smiled coldly. “Sister, get your facts straight. This guy might look the part, but he’s just a deadbeat loser who lives off women. You won’t get a dime out of him.” “Honestly, I could kick you both out right now, seeing as I pay the rent for this place—but considering you’re a girl and probably embarrassed, I’ll give you some time to pack.” “What do you mean?” Mason chased after me, asking. I grabbed my phone. “It’s 4:00 PM right now. I’m giving you half a day to move out. Otherwise, I’m calling a moving company to come tomorrow morning and literally throw you out on the street.” With that, I slammed the door and left. My TikTok Live was an absolute madhouse. I had casually tossed my phone aside earlier to make it easier to deal with the “trash,” but the audio was still broadcasting loud and clear. The moment I got physical, I knew everyone watching would think I was a violent, crazy bitch. But I couldn’t just swallow that disrespect. Mason was my first love. He chased me for six months before I agreed to date him. I never really believed in love, but for him, I slowly let my guard down and started believing in romance. And this is what he repays me with? Not putting them both in the hospital was me showing restraint out of respect for our shared college history! Besides, I started this TikTok account to vlog our relationship. Now that I don’t have a boyfriend, there’s nothing left to vlog. I picked up my phone, feeling defeated, planning to announce that I was deleting the account. But to my surprise, the vibe in the live chat was completely different from what I expected. 04 “Chloe is a total badass!” “That cheater is disgusting! If Chloe hadn’t lied about going on a business trip, who knows how long it would have taken to catch him!” “How does he still have the nerve to play the ‘devoted boyfriend’ card? Does he have no shame?” “Side note—did anyone else notice that Chloe’s insults flowed like a rap verse?” “Yes, yes, yes! She didn’t even stutter! I was amazed!” “…” The more I read, the quieter I got. Is the internet always this unhinged? They were even treating my comment section like a serialized novel: “You have to post updates! I’m living on your profile for the next few days!” After recovering from the shock, I took a deep breath and steadied my voice. “I apologize for making a scene in front of everyone. There won’t be any updates on this situation.” “I don’t like lingering on toxic people. From now on, I won’t have anything to do with Mason. If you want to unfollow, please feel free.” After saying that, I ended the live stream. I assumed that most of my followers only subscribed for the cute couple content, so I figured they’d be gone by tomorrow. But I didn’t know who recorded the live stream and posted it online. Now, a ton of people were sharing it like crazy, including several major drama channels on YouTube and TikTok. …I went even more viral. …I gained over a hundred thousand new followers. Mason and that woman, Mia, were getting absolutely roasted by the internet. Unable to handle the mental breakdown from the cyberbullying, he bombarded me with texts, called me, and even DMed me on Xbox Live begging for a truce, but I ignored all of it. Finally, clearly desperate, he used someone else’s phone to call me. As soon as the call connected, he roared: “Chloe, fine! Since you don’t care about our history at all, I’m not holding back either!” 05 After dropping that threat, Mason went completely radio silent, like he had dropped off the face of the earth. I didn’t take his threat seriously at all. But that night, several major drama channels simultaneously posted an “exclusive.” They claimed the live-streamed cheating scandal was all my evil scheme. The reason was simple. “Chloe and Mason’s relationship broke down a long time ago. Mason wanted an amicable breakup, but Chloe wanted to keep milking the ‘couple goals’ clout.” “To keep her followers, Chloe orchestrated this whole drama.” “She’s using the internet as a weapon! Don’t let her manipulate you!” Hilarious. I cursed Mason eight hundred times in my head. Classic journalism major—he really knows how to spin a narrative. But he forgot one thing: I, Chloe, am not someone who takes shit lying down. I used my main account to repost the drama channel’s article, slapped a question mark on it, and went straight for the jugular in the comments. “When did our relationship break down? Are you psychic? Do you sleep under my bed?” “And me milking the clout? If you watched the live stream, you wouldn’t be saying that, would you?” “Defending a cheater? Does your sympathy only apply to bottom-feeders?” It didn’t take long for the drama channel to reply with a string of ellipses. The internet bystanders were buzzing again. “I’ve always hated these drama channels! Well said!” “LMAO, I thought the people running these drama accounts were bots. Turns out they actually reply.” “Mason really wasted his money on this PR stunt. It didn’t do shit.” 06 Annoyed by Mason’s pathetic tactics, I tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep. I felt like, for a long time, dating him had been like carrying around a trash bag with a hole in it. The bag smelled like garbage every now and then, but I got so used to it that I didn’t even notice. Until one day, I accidentally ripped the hole wider, and the stench hit me square in the face. Only then did I realize that a bag holding garbage is just garbage itself. I actually dated a piece of garbage. Thinking about this, a knot formed in my chest. Since I couldn’t sleep anyway, I went ahead and booked a deep-cleaning service for 7:00 AM the next morning. The next day, I met the cleaning crew on time and led them to the apartment. I stuck my key in the lock, turned it twice, but the door wouldn’t open. Seriously? He hasn’t left yet? The twelve-hour deadline was long gone. Is he waiting for me to call the coroner to pack up his body? Since the door wouldn’t open, I led the cleaning crew around to the window outside the master bedroom. Unfortunately for them, the sounds of a “morning workout” were drifting out of the open window. The cleaning crew exchanged awkward glances. “Uh…” I told them to stand back and tried to push the window open. I didn’t expect that idiot Mason to actually leave it unlocked. A woman’s scream erupted from the room: “Ah! Babe, she’s back!” Mason looked over, and upon realizing it was me, immediately yanked the blanket up. “Chloe, are you a psychopath?!” I sneered, picked up the power washer the crew had brought, and started blasting water into the room like a maniac. “Stop sleeping in the bed I bought! Get the hell out!” 07 After kicking out the pathetic, soaking-wet Mason and Mia, I had the cleaning crew scrub the apartment from top to bottom. Then, I contacted the landlord to terminate the lease. Everything happened so fast that I hadn’t even had time to unmatch with Mason on Tinder or block his number. Now was the perfect time to send him the bill. “I signed a 3-month lease for this place. I lived here for less than 10 days, so let’s round that up to half a month. Please reimburse me for two and a half months of rent.” Mason: “?” “Is my request unreasonable?” When I hit send, a red exclamation point appeared next to my message. Mason actually blocked me first. Did he think I was out of options just because he blocked me? Initially, I only wanted two and a half months’ rent. Now, he was going to have to pay me back for utilities too. But before I could contact him again, he actually had the audacity to send me a cease and desist letter. The lawyer who called me sounded very stern: “Ms. Chloe, correct? My client, Mr. Mason, has retained me to recover half of the earnings from your joint social media account.” “Joint account?” “Yes, the account you used to document your daily relationship.” I felt physically sick. “How does he have the nerve to ask for that?” From filming to editing, I ran that account entirely by myself. Every time I needed him to appear on camera, I had to buy him gifts and take him out to dinner. “But your account documents your daily relationship. Could you, Ms. Chloe, have a relationship all by yourself?” “Not only can I have a relationship all by myself, but I can also undergo mitosis and reproduce asexually.” “…” The lawyer fell silent for a moment. “Since you are speaking nonsense, refusing to listen to reason, and insisting on having your way, then wait to receive a summons from the court.” I sneered. Are you trying to scare me with legal jargon? “What’s your last name?” I asked the lawyer. “My last name is Davis.” “Listen to me, Davis—” I briefly summarized the entire situation, then warned him, “Mason doesn’t have a single honest bone in his body. Don’t let him drag you down with him.” Before he could respond, I added, “And from what I know, lawyers only get more cases if they have a high win rate, right?” “Yes, and?” “And so I’m laying it out for you right now. With the evidence I currently have, if this actually goes to trial, you won’t have a single chance of winning.” I said coldly. “A person shouldn’t try to make dirty money. If you dare to defend a cheater, I’ll make sure your reputation is ruined, and you’ll go from a hotshot lawyer to an ambulance chaser.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “421717”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was doing a live interview alongside the top-tier rapper Jax Wilder. The interviewer playfully asked if we had ever dated a rapper. I smiled and said, “I did. We dated for three days. He wrote three thousand diss tracks about me afterward. Like gum on the bottom of my shoe.” Beside me, Jax looked over with his dark, quiet eyes and stated calmly: “It wasn’t three days. It was two days, 23 hours, and 58 minutes.” 01 Jax Wilder just dropped a new track. In three minutes, it topped the Spotify charts. In ten minutes, it was the number one trending topic on X. The hashtag #JaxWildersEx was hanging high at the top of the trending list, tagged with a massive red “VIRAL” icon. Sitting next to me in the makeup chair, my manager Valerie scrolled through her phone and sighed enviously. “Viral again. Jax could practically buy a mansion in Beverly Hills just with the ad revenue from his trending hashtags.” She scrolled through the comments, clicking her tongue. “Another track dissing his ex. Seriously, how deep is this grudge? How many songs has he written to drag her?” I looked at myself in the mirror—my makeup was flawless, my expression utterly serene. I shook my head and said, “Who knows.” “Which is exactly why you should never date a rapper.” That was Valerie’s final takeaway. It wasn’t until my hair and makeup were completely done that I checked my own phone and realized Vanessa Hale was also trending. She had “liked” Jax’s new song and immediately un-liked it a second later, but eagle-eyed fans had already screenshotted it. Internet sleuths even dug up old photos of them attending the same events. “Look what I found! The ex Jax has been dissing for three years is actually Vanessa!” “I knew the vibe between them was weird! So this is their history!” “The simulation is glitching! But wait, why am I shipping this so hard?!” “Hold up! Aren’t they both attending the Hollywood Music & Film Gala tonight? Waiting for the reunion!” “Praying for the ultimate lovers’ reconciliation!” … I had to admit, the internet’s ability to fabricate drama out of thin air was getting impressive. They spoke with such conviction that even Valerie was eating it up. “Did they actually date?” However, her appetite for gossip vanished a second later. Because I was wearing the exact same gown as Vanessa. A fashion clash at a major gala like this meant one thing: someone was going to get obliterated by the public. I didn’t even need to use my brain to know that Vanessa’s agency was definitely going to buy eight hundred PR articles claiming she “outshined” me, and hire eight thousand bots to tear me to shreds online. Tsk. So annoying. The head of my styling team had red-rimmed eyes and kept apologizing to me. “Serena, I am so sorry. We had no idea Miss Hale would suddenly switch to this gown. I swear, her team’s pre-approved options absolutely did not include this dress.” She looked like she was about to cry. I glanced over at the distance, where Vanessa was shooting me a highly provocative smirk. I shook my head. “It’s not your fault. We just weren’t cautious enough.” 02 I guessed Vanessa was pulling this stunt to get back at me for stealing her dream role as the female lead in an upcoming blockbuster. I couldn’t help it. My acting was just undeniably better than hers. The director wasn’t blind. Vanessa deliberately lingered near the red carpet entrance, waiting for me instead of walking ahead. When I approached, she put on a fake smile and whispered so the media couldn’t hear: “Take a guess. Who do you think the internet is going to call ugly tonight?” “Have you heard the saying?” I waved gracefully to the cameras, replying to her under my breath. “Clashing outfits isn’t scary. Whoever is ugly is the one who should be embarrassed.” I slowly let my gaze trail up and down her body with a meaningful smirk. “What do you think?” She snapped her mouth shut, her face looking like she had just swallowed a lemon. Deep down, she probably knew it too. When it came to pure looks, everyone in this industry had to take a back seat to me. In other words, the reason I had so many haters was entirely because of this face. I had taken on way too many “evil, glamorous villain” roles. The audiences who couldn’t separate the character from the actor flocked to my social media to hurl abuse. Since I had a notoriously bad temper, I frequently picked a few “lucky” haters to curse out in my replies. It was a vicious cycle, and my haters multiplied daily. I didn’t care. Bad publicity was still publicity. As long as the paycheck cleared, I was fine. Vanessa and I walked up the steps side by side. As she looked at the broad back of the man signing the media wall ahead of us, her eyes completely softened. “Serena, you don’t need to struggle tonight. The winner is definitely going to be me.” “Oh?” I followed her gaze to the man ahead. He had already turned around. He wore an unbuttoned white tuxedo jacket, a loose black tie swaying in the breeze, drawing attention to his sharp jawline and the prominent, sexy jut of his Adam’s apple. His gaze collided with mine in mid-air. The smile on my face didn’t falter. Vanessa’s smile, however, completely froze. One look and you could tell they had history. I stared at his expressionless face, my gaze dropping to his left hand. Under the flashing camera lights, a plain silver band on his index finger caught the glare. I pulled my gaze back and asked Vanessa, “Is this your trump card?” Vanessa shot me a side-eye, her tone dripping with pity. “Yes. Too bad your ex isn’t an A-list, chart-topping rapper, right?” Hmm. Interesting. 03 Jax didn’t wait for us. Vanessa gestured for me to walk ahead. As she followed behind, she deliberately stepped heavily onto the trailing hem of my gown. I pitched forward, squeezing my eyes shut, bracing myself for the absolute humiliation of face-planting in front of hundreds of cameras. Instead, I crashed into a rock-hard chest. The faint, crisp scent of cedarwood drifted into my nose. I remembered he used to hate perfumes. Every time I sprayed anything, he would wave his hands to clear the air, wrinkling his nose and complaining, “Smells terrible. Like rotting wood.” Then, he would grab my waist, bite down hard on my neck, and admire the teeth marks he left behind, laughing as he pulled me close. “It’s only fair. I need to leave my mark too.” “Are you a dog?” Even though I said that, I never once pushed him away. The warmth enveloping me suddenly vanished as he stepped back. I opened my eyes to see Jax’s tightly clenched jawline. There wasn’t a trace of a smile on his face. His eyes were freezing cold, lacking even basic polite warmth. So cool. Once I was standing steady, he turned and kept walking without waiting for me, as if catching me had just been a glitch in the matrix. I glanced back and saw Vanessa looking pale and flustered. She truly looked like a deeply devoted woman whose heart had just been shattered by her ex. If she could bring this level of acting to a movie set, the director wouldn’t have replaced her with me. The three of us walked up to the interview stage. During the signing portion, Vanessa deliberately signed her name right next to Jax’s. The cameras immediately zoomed in for a tight shot of their names side by side. I imagined X was probably crashing right now. She got her viral moment for the night. The ultimate tragedy of two ex-lovers meeting at the pinnacle of their careers but refusing to acknowledge each other. Isn’t that exactly the kind of angst the audience loves to eat up? She really understood marketing. The red-carpet host noticed the dynamic too. Always eager for drama to boost ratings, the host made a bit of small talk before surprisingly asking the three of us if we had ever dated a rapper. Vanessa stole a glance at Jax, her eyes instantly turning red. A second later, a tear was ready to fall. She choked up and whispered, “Yes.” “What kind of relationship was it?” Lost in “memory,” Vanessa offered a bitter, nostalgic smile. She looked at Jax and said, “He… didn’t talk much, but he treated me very well. He once told me he was going to write me into his songs. Later…” She paused, flashing a fragile, heartbreaking smile. “He really did it. But between us… we can never go back.” The fans behind the barricades started screaming hysterically. Written into his songs. That was practically a neon sign screaming that she was Jax’s ex. Even the host was stunned. She clearly hadn’t expected Vanessa to be so bold. She wanted to dig for more, but Vanessa refused to say another word, simply staring at Jax with eyes full of sorrowful longing. “What about you, Serena? Have you ever dated a rapper?” Asking me was purely a polite formality. I glanced at the two people beside me. One was an expressionless block of ice; the other was a weeping willow. How boring. I offered a shallow smile. Originally, I wasn’t going to say anything. If Vanessa hadn’t intentionally clashed outfits with me and stepped on my dress, I would have gladly let her keep her fake hype. But since she drew first blood, I was going to scorch the earth. Besides, I had been tolerating her for far too long. “I did. We dated for three days. He wrote three thousand diss tracks about me afterward. Like gum on the bottom of my shoe.” My tone wasn’t sorrowful like Vanessa’s. It was a cold scoff, laced with heavy provocation. After all, the guy in question was standing right next to me. He deserved to be insulted. The host froze. She clearly didn’t expect me to claim I had dated a rapper too. She probably thought I was just desperately trying to steal the spotlight, which explained the slight glint of disdain in her eyes. She opened her mouth to give a polite, dismissive reply. But her words never came out. Jax lifted his microphone. His dark, quiet eyes looked straight at me, and he stated calmly: “It wasn’t three days. It was two days, 23 hours, and 58 minutes.” After one second of absolute, dead silence… The entire venue exploded. 04 Vanessa practically dragged her gown as she fled the stage. I bet her legs had turned to jelly. Understandable. After spending weeks building the hype, believing she held the ultimate trump card, she just realized she had handed the royal flush directly to her enemy. The most awkward part? Our assigned seats inside the gala were right next to each other. She collapsed into her chair, staring at Jax’s back a few rows ahead. Ignoring the fans trying to sneak photos of her, she snapped at me: “Are you happy now, Serena?” I smoothed out the skirt of my gown, dusting off the invisible dirt. She had stepped on my dress earlier, and even though there was no footprint, I still felt it was filthy. “What does this have to do with me?” I played dumb. She turned to glare at me, her eyes bloodshot. “You’re Jax’s real ex-girlfriend! Why didn’t you say anything?! Do you get a sick thrill out of watching me make a fool of myself?!” Yeah, actually. It was hilarious. But I didn’t dare say that out loud. There were cameras everywhere. If a lip-reading fan caught that, I’d be roasted alive. I put on my best innocent face. “You never asked me.” “You…!” “Don’t be mad.” I smiled, patting her hand in mock comfort. I leaned close to her ear, keeping my face angled away from the cameras, and enunciated every word slowly and clearly. “Who told you that your dream guy is my ultimate simp?” Vanessa’s ears turned bright red. She glared at me furiously but didn’t dare push me away in front of the crowd. I grabbed her hand. She was wearing a plain silver band on her left ring finger. It was unbranded and completely clashed with her luxury gown tonight. I knew she wore it specifically to match the silver ring on Jax’s right hand. He had worn that plain silver band for years. He never took it off. “Vanessa, do you know something?” I held her ring finger, playing with the silver band, sliding it halfway off before pushing it back on. I could feel her fingertips trembling. I imagined that right now, in her eyes, I probably looked like a literal demon. I smiled at her—cold, unfeeling—and delivered the brutal truth she desperately didn’t want to hear. “That ring on Jax’s hand? I gave it to him.” That’s why he couldn’t bear to take it off. Idiot. 05 For the rest of the night. Vanessa didn’t say a single word to me. She was shivering the entire time. Maybe the AC was just too high. She didn’t dare open her phone. I understood. Her PR team was probably working overtime doing crisis management, but it was useless. Aside from her most delusional fans, no one was going to believe her anymore. Everyone could see she was just trying to leech off Jax’s fame. Even setting aside the general public, Jax’s rabid fangirls were going to eat her alive. She didn’t dare look at her phone. But I did. Wow. As expected of an A-list superstar. In just a couple of hours, I had gained over 700,000 followers. Every time I refreshed the page, the number jumped. It was still climbing. My DMs were exploding so fast my app was lagging. I had never seen a notification list move with such terrifying speed. I skimmed through a few messages: “OMGGG SIS IS JAX GOOD IN BED?!” “HE IS SO OBSESSED WITH HER! HE IS SO OBSESSED!” “Jax is honestly punching above his weight with this one! She is gorgeous!” “SISTER! Tell us exactly what those three hours were like! Spare no details!” “I KNEW there was a reason he lunged to catch you on the red carpet! Muscle memory!” “Ugly bitch, how did you trick Jax into dating you? Did you save his family from a burning building or something?” “Hahahahaha I’m laughing so hard! No wonder Jax can’t get over her, if I dated a baddie like that I wouldn’t get over her either!” “Omg sis I’m so sorry I used to leave hate comments on your page! I apologize! From now on you are our one and only true Queen!” “Why YOU?! Vanessa is ten thousand times better!” … Surprisingly. Aside from a few delusional fangirls, hardly anyone was sending me hate. Even the people who used to hate on me were being attacked by his fans. “Keyboard warriors who can’t tell the difference between a TV character and a real person need to shut up and stop embarrassing yourselves!” “You act so tough online but you’re a loser in real life. Shut your mouth and stop spewing garbage before we end you.” “We will protect the Queen’s comment section at all costs!” “Where is Jax?! Is he just going to sit there while people insult his wife?!” “Is that all this stupid man is good for? Sis dumping him was the best decision she ever made!” “RT! Jax, channel that energy you had when you were writing diss tracks! At least keep your wife’s comment section clean!” … Of course, there were a few comments saying: “Why her?! She’s so basic! What does Jax even see in her?!” But someone immediately fired back: “Are you blind? Look at the photos!” “We’re all girls here, why are you tearing another woman down just because you’re jealous?” “If he didn’t date her, do you think he’d date you? Who even are you? You listened to his music so much it fried your brain?” That hate comment was deleted by the user a minute later. Wow. For the first time ever, I saw Jax in a new light. As expected of a rapper’s fandom. Their trash-talking skills were even better than mine. Of course, the most lethal one of all was the man himself. Jax won the award for Song of the Year. As he delivered his acceptance speech, I could feel the cameras zooming in on my face. My smile was polite and elegant, and I clapped calmly along with the rest of the crowd. On stage, Jax looked equally unfazed. He stared directly into the audience, right at my section, gripping the trophy tightly. “Finally, I want to thank my ex-girlfriend. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t be who I am today.” True. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have had the material to write three thousand diss tracks. You’re very welcome. A wave of teasing boos and cheers erupted from the audience. Jax’s expression remained perfectly calm. His voice was smooth as he added one final sentence: “I also just want to ask her—” “When you dumped me all those years ago… do you regret it?” 06 “Not a single bit of regret.” The gala had just ended, and I responded directly on X. The tweet had barely been live for a minute before Valerie called me. “Who told you to post that?! And why didn’t you ever tell me you were Jax Wilder’s ex?!” “Why would I?” I was soaking in a bubble bath, a sheet mask on my face, letting out a satisfied sigh. “It’s ancient history. There was nothing to talk about.” Valerie was silent for three seconds before tentatively asking, “So… when you rejected Mason Cole last month, was that because of Jax?” “What are you talking about?” I opened my eyes, peeled off the sheet mask, and splashed some hot water on my shoulders. “I just genuinely think Mason is ugly.” “Are you insane? He has tens of millions of fans who worship his face, and you’re calling him ugly?!” Valerie panicked, warning me: “You can say that to me, but do NOT say that in public. If anyone hears you say that, your career is over.” “I know, I know.” I wasn’t brave enough to provoke a massive A-list movie star. But even if I didn’t provoke him, he insisted on provoking me. I was a regular cast member on a popular reality TV show. Mason was the special guest for this episode. The director told us Mason had specifically requested to join at the last minute. To balance the teams, they had to invite a second guest star. When the director said that, he shot a wicked, knowing smirk in my direction. My heart skipped a beat. Seriously, director? You’re gossiping too? It turns out everyone in the entertainment industry lives for the drama. When Jax jogged onto the set wearing a sleek black tracksuit, I couldn’t stop myself from rolling my eyes so hard I almost saw my own brain. And of course, the director wanted to maximize the chaos by making us split into teams. Everyone quickly paired up, leaving me and a young pop-star girl staring at each other awkwardly. The director said, “The two guest stars can choose who they want to team up with.” “I choose her.” “Serena.” At the exact same millisecond, both Mason and Jax pointed their fingers directly at me. So dramatic. I looked at the pop-star girl. Her face was flushed with irrepressible excitement. Makes sense—getting a front-row seat to this love triangle without having to buy a ticket? I’d be excited too. The director loved watching the world burn. “Since that’s the case, let’s settle this like men!” Arm wrestling. I gave up hope. Mason was massive and lived in the gym. There was no way Jax could beat him. The director told them to talk some trash before the match. Mason looked at me, then at Jax. “If you lose, she’s on my team today.” I almost broke out in hives. Jax shot me a chilling glance, then said flatly, “Then come and try to take her.” To my absolute shock. Jax won. Mason’s face turned beet red, the veins in his biceps popping, while Jax looked completely effortless. It looked like he barely broke a sweat pinning Mason’s wrist to the table. But I saw it. I saw Jax’s left hand, hidden under the table, clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. He was just pretending it was easy. As expected of a rapper. Image is everything. He didn’t use to be like this. Back then, he was like an obedient, sweet puppy. Only in very specific, private moments did he ever show his teeth. Jax won. He politely said to Mason, “Good match.” Mason rarely lost face like this, and he looked visibly pissed. With his A-list status, he was usually treated like royalty wherever he went. The pop-star girl quickly stepped in to smooth things over. “What does that mean? Are you upset you have to team up with me? I’m gonna complain!” Mason’s expression finally softened a bit. “A bet’s a bet.” The pop-star flashed a bright smile, cheering Mason on. “Don’t be sad, Mason! A true champion doesn’t care about the first few rounds. Just watch us make a massive comeback later!” Jax ignored them and walked straight toward me. I looked at his cold, unbothered face and asked, “Didn’t you use to hate going to the gym?” He didn’t even look at me. He grabbed a towel, wiped the sweat off his face, tossed it aside, and finally turned his head. His dark eyes hid emotions I couldn’t decipher. He spoke only four words: “Someone said they liked it.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “421718”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Three years into our engagement, my fiancé and my younger sister were declared lost at sea after a tragic shipwreck. For six months, I mourned them, only for a rescue team to find them alive on a remote, deserted island. The twist? They both claimed to have total amnesia. Yet, despite forgetting who they were, they had somehow managed to fall deeply in love, completely unaware of their pasts—or so they claimed. When the cameras found them, my sister was heavily pregnant, cradling her baby bump while nestled securely in my fiancé’s arms. In that exact instant, I went from grieving fiancée to the internet’s favorite punchline. The media was instantly obsessed with their “miraculous” tale of survival and love against all odds. Even my own parents, blinded by the spectacle and the impending grandchild, cornered me. They begged me to be the bigger person, to “let them be happy,” and to officially step aside so my sister could have her fairy tale ending. I refused to be a doormat. But my silence was met with a smear campaign. My parents slandered me to the press, and the internet mob descended. I was doxxed, harassed, and disowned. Unable to take the relentless bullying any longer, I ended my own life in isolation. But fate gave me a second chance. Waking up before it all went down, I took control of the narrative. While they were still playing house on that island, I started a social media account. I didn’t use it to attack them; instead, I dedicated it to their memory, playing the role of the tragic, heartbroken, but hopeful woman waiting for her love to return. The entire country fell in love with my loyalty. On the day of their scheduled rescue, I arranged for a special live stream. I wanted the whole world to see the unfiltered reality—the immediate view of my “amnesiac” sister with her massive baby bump, holding the man who was supposed to be mine. That was the moment the real show began. 1 When I opened my eyes again, the gasp that left my throat was raw. I was back. Back in my living room, on the exact day the news broke about the cruise ship disaster. The local news station was on the TV, broadcasting live from the port. The anchor’s voice was grim, reporting on the chaotic search and rescue operations that were just beginning. My parents were sitting across from me, sobbing uncontrollably. My mother was clutching her grandmother’s silver cross, mumbling rosaries through her tears. I forced my hands to stop shaking, pushing down the visceral bile that rose in my throat, and walked over to comfort them. “Mom, Dad, we have to believe they’re okay. Faith and Ben are strong.” My mom looked up at me, and suddenly, her grief twisted into a violent, ugly rage. She lashed out, her voice breaking. “This is your fault! If you hadn’t insisted on this vacation, Faith never would have been on that damn boat!” I flinched, the echo of her words cutting just as deep as they did the first time. The hatred in her eyes was agonizing. In my past life, those words had shattered me, leaving me with a guilt so heavy it eventually crushed me. I had been the one to suggest a week-long cruise to celebrate my engagement to Benjamin Carter. Faith, my younger sister, had begged to come along, turning it into a family trip. But at the last second, my firm handed me a massive project that required me to stay behind. I had to watch from the shore, waving them off with regret. I used to believe it was a cruel twist of fate. Only after I died, as a restless spirit bound to them, did I learn the devastating truth. There was no coincidence. It was a setup. Faith and Ben had been sleeping together for months. The amnesia wasn’t real. It was a story they cooked up when Faith realized she was pregnant and they couldn’t hide it anymore. They invented a “fairy tale” of finding each other in the dark to wash their hands of the betrayal. I watched, unseen, as they paraded their “tragic love” for the cameras. Their story was so popular it was even optioned for a movie. And I, on the night I should have been celebrating my anniversary, drank myself into a stupor and ended it all. Even after I was gone, they couldn’t let me rest. They dragged the cameras to my grave, weeping on cue for the nightly news, all to generate buzz for their movie’s release. Remembering it all, my rage boiled over, but I pushed it down. This time, I had a part to play. I dropped to my knees in front of my mother, sobbing until I couldn’t catch my breath. “You’re right, Mom! It’s all my fault! If only I had been stronger, if only I had told her no, she would be safe… I can’t live with myself…” I let my voice crack and my body go limp, slumping onto the floor as if consumed by grief. I fainted—this time, it was mostly an act, but the exhaustion was real. When I woke up, the family doctor was in the house. He told my parents it was a vasovagal response from extreme emotional shock. My dad, seeing me so broken, couldn’t bring himself to blame me anymore. He started reasoning with my mom. “You can’t blame Alice, Martha. Faith is an adult; she made her own choice to go. Nobody wanted this to happen.” My mom looked at my pale, tear-stained face, and the accusations died on her lips. She settled for a resentful silence. In my last life, I had made the mistake of defending myself in that moment. I had argued that it was supposed to be my pre-honeymoon, that Faith had begged to come, and that Ben had encouraged it. I was immediately shouted down, called cold and selfish. That argument had severed my bond with my parents. They blamed me for every day she was missing. I wouldn’t be so stupid this time. You want to see grief? I’ll show you grief. I will be the most heartbroken woman this country has ever seen. 2 For days, I didn’t eat. I didn’t drink. I barely slept. I became a ghost in my own home, my face red and swollen from crying. Friends and colleagues came by, trying to console me. Even Ben’s family tried to tell me to take care of myself, that I shouldn’t fall apart while there was still hope. The shipwreck was the number one news story in America. Even late-night hosts were making sombre statements. The country was in a moment of collective morning. I took my phone, downloaded X (Twitter), and registered a new account. I used my real name: Alice Thorne. My first post was simple. 【Faith, Ben, please be safe. Please come home to me. I would give anything, half my life, just to know you’re both safe. #Shipwreck #SearchandRescue】 It was simple, and it带 tags. Within an hour, it had hundreds of likes and comments from strangers offering prayers. Every single day, I posted. My grief was raw, public, and utterly captivating. 【Day 7 of waiting. Why is this happening? Why them? I wish I had been on that boat instead of my beautiful sister and the man I love. I can’t eat. I can’t function. I feel like I’m dying. #WaitingforHope #FaithandBen】 【Faith, I remember the first day Dad brought you home. You were so small, like a doll. I was only five, but I felt this massive need to protect you. I watched you grow into such a vibrant woman. Yes, we had our sisterly fights, but I would give anything to have you annoy me right now. If I had just said no, if I had forced you to stay… #Sisterhood #GoneTooSoon】 【Ben, three years with you felt like a lifetime of happiness. You were my rock, my biggest cheerleader. You always gave me courage when I was scared. But now that you’re gone, I don’t know how to be brave. If I had just been selfish and stayed with you, maybe everything would be different. #MyLove #LostAtSea】 That last post went viral. Hundreds of thousands of likes. Tens of thousands of reposts. 【I’m crying. This is so devastating. Alice, you have to be strong.】 【You have to have faith, Alice. They are coming home. Take care of yourself so you can welcome them back.】 The comments were overwhelmingly supportive. But as the story grew, other opinions began to surface. 【I don’t get it. If she couldn’t go, why did her fiancé and her younger sister go without her? On a celebration cruise? That’s weird. #Sus #BoundaryIssues】 I smiled as I saw that comment gaining traction. I quickly typed a reply, making sure it stayed visible at the top. 【The tickets were already bought, and it was hard for everyone to get time off. I didn’t want to ruin it for them just because my schedule changed. They are family. Please don’t create drama where there isn’t any. Thank you for your support.】 By replying, I validated the question. The country was still on my side, but I had subtly planted a seed of doubt. Go on, everyone. Look closely. That way, when the truth comes out, you’ll remember this moment. In my last life, they used public opinion to destroy me. This time, I’m the one pulling the strings. 3 In my previous life, I never used social media. When Ben and Faith were rescued, they gave exclusive interviews to the big networks, telling their gripping tale of survival. A desert island, partial amnesia, fighting for life, and falling in love again in the wilderness—it was a modern-day romance novel. And to top it all off, a new life was beginning. The media adored them. They became “America’s Sweethearts.” I was the inconvenient fiancée who became a joke. My parents forced me into silence, afraid I would “ruin Faith’s happiness.” They bullied me into giving up my engagement. When the cameras found us, Ben, holding my pregnant sister, looked at me with open disgust. “I don’t know who you are. I only remember Faith. She’s my life.” And Faith, with her tears and her baby bump, dropped to her knees. “Alice, please. Please let him go. We’re in love.” When the press eventually found out we were sisters, my parents swore I had leaked the story. “She’s been through enough! How can you be so cruel? Do you want Faith to die from the stress?” They refused to listen to my explanations. They slandered me to the press themselves, claiming I had been cheating on Ben for months. They even produced fake “friends” to verify it. The internet mob was ruthless. I couldn’t leave my house without being spat on or having things thrown at me. So I ended it. Alone. On my anniversary. This time, I had a plan. Every day that passed without a rescue, I kept up the posts. I visited Ben’s parents, the Carters. My performance of grief was perfect. “Even though Ben and I didn’t make it down the aisle, I’ve loved him for years. In my heart, you are my family. I will never marry another. I will wait for him.” His mother sobbed, hugging me. Ben was their only child. Their grief was monumental, and they practically adopted me as their own daughter. I kept the social media account focused solely on Faith and Ben. My followers grew to millions. When brands approached me to monetize the account, I flatly refused. This solidified my “pure” grief image. The country genuinely believed I was a selfless, tragic figure. And then, six months later, it happened. They were found. A passing cargo ship had spotted their SOS signal and rescued them. I immediately posted: 【Ben, Faith, you’re real. This isn’t a dream. You’re coming home to me! I can’t wait to hold you both again! #TheRescue #MiraclesCanHappen】 The country was on high alert. The news cycle was 24/7 “The Castaway Reunion.” I subtly leaked the location of their arrival port to a few “fan accounts.” tabloid journalists and influencers got there long before my family did. I rode with my parents and Ben’s parents. My mother was vibrating with excitement, crying from pure joy. “Mom, don’t cry anymore. We’re going to have a happy family reunion.” She nodded, wiping her eyes. When the car finally pulled up to the dock, we saw the massive crowd. And through the gap, we finally saw the two people we had missed for six months. Six months of living on an island had made them look like survivors. They were sun-baked and disheveled. Faith was leaning heavily against Ben, and her belly was visibly, unmistakably pregnant. The entire universe seemed to stop. My mother’s hand flew to her mouth. 4 “Faith… your belly… what is that?” My mother’s voice was barely a whisper. Her hand was shaking as she pointed. Faith shrank into Ben’s arms, looking terrified. “Who are you people? I don’t know you.” A crew member who had rescued them stepped in. “They have total amnesia, ma’am. They don’t remember anything.” The crowd was massive. I could see dozens of phones pointed at us, streaming live to millions. Perfect. They had no idea they were about to be the biggest story of the year for all the wrong reasons. I put my hands over my mouth, the tears streaming. I pitched my voice high and loud, making sure every single phone caught it. “Ben! Faith! You don’t remember me? How could you… how could you do this?” “You are my sister and my fiancé!” “Aria!” My mother hissed, grabbing my arm and jerking me back. Her face was contorted in fury. “Shut your mouth! There are people watching! This is a family matter. Do you want to destroy Faith’s reputation?” I shoved her off. I didn’t care. I ran forward and grabbed Ben’s arm, sobbing. “Ben, it’s me! Your fiancée! I’ve been waiting for you for six months!” “I don’t know who you are!” He looked panicked. He tried to shake me off, and I let myself be thrown down, collapsing on the pavement. I let my body go limp, my eyes rolling back as I pretended to faint. The cameras caught it all. The flashbulbs were like lightning. The family reunion ended right there, and I was rushed to the nearest hospital. 5 When I woke up, I was alone in a hospital room, facing my mother’s fury. “Have you lost your mind, Alice?! How could you say those things in front of the press? Faith and Ben are survivors! They have amnesia! How could you be so selfish and cruel?!” My mom was shouting, and my dad was just shaking his head in silent judgment. They hadn’t cared when they thought I was a sweet, grieving fiancée, but the second Faith was safe, I was the enemy. “Mom, Faith is pregnant with Ben’s child. How could they do this to me?” “Shut up! Not another word!” The door opened, and Ben walked in, holding Faith’s hand. “I don’t know who you are,” Ben said, his voice cold. “Faith is the only one who was with me. She’s the only one I love.” He was looking at me with total indifference. I wanted to laugh. Smooth, Ben. Real smooth. Faith walked over to me, looking timid and frightened, playing the victim perfectly. “You’re my sister? I’m so sorry, Alice. We truly don’t remember our past. But I’m pregnant, and Ben and I… we’re in love. Please, don’t try to tear us apart. That’s cruel. Sister, I’m begging you. I’ll even get on my knees if I have to. Please, let us be.” She looked like she was about to drop to the floor, but my parents quickly grabbed her and helped her up. They acted like they were protecting her from a monster. “Stop it, Alice!” My mom yelled at me. “Your sister has been through hell! Can’t you just have a little compassion?” “Mom, I haven’t even said anything.” “That’s enough! This is how it is: Ben is Faith’s boyfriend now. You are not to say a single word about this outside of this family. Faith has been through enough trauma, and I won’t have you causing her any more pain.” “So it’s okay for me to be in pain, Mom? Is my happiness completely worthless to you?” “Faith has suffered six months on a deserted island! How much did you suffer, safe in your warm house? Stop being so selfish!” They ignored my tears, leaving me alone in the room. The second they were gone, I stopped the tears. I looked at the window, where I had hidden my phone. It had been recording the entire interaction. Faith, you wanted to be a star? Get ready. 6 Ben and Faith agreed to a exclusive live-streamed interview. I watched from my computer, sipping a cool drink. They were “America’s Sweethearts,” telling their story. “When I was first washed up on the beach, I had hit my head,” Faith said, looking at Ben with pure devotion. “When I woke up, Ben was there. He took care of me. There was so little food, but he always gave me the biggest portion. He practically saved my life…” She was crying, and the interviewer was wiping away tears. What a beautiful story. Suddenly, the production crew rushed in and pulled the interviewer away. “What’s happening, Ben?” Faith asked, looking genuinely scared. Ben frowned, looking at his phone. Tabloids, live streams, video leaks—everything was hitting at once. The chat on the live stream wasn’t filled with hearts and congratulations anymore. It was filled with venom. 【This is disgusting. Her own sister’s fiancé.】 【The amnesia is fake. They just want an excuse for the cheating.】 【I’ve been a follower of Alice since the shipwreck. I’m crying. The betrayal. This is evil.】 【They are trash. Just lock them both up. Alice deserves so much better.】 I saw my sister and my ex-fiancé, the “desert island lovers,” freeze in panic. Faith stood up and tried to explain to the camera, her face white with fear. “It’s not true! We have amnesia! We didn’t do this on purpose!” The chat wasn’t buying it. “Yeah, okay. Both of you just happen to have perfect selective amnesia that only erased your identities but left your motor skills intact. Show me a doctor’s note.” Ben stood up, trying to be the hero. “We haven’t been examined yet, but we are telling the truth. After this interview, we are going to the hospital for a full check-up.” He apologized to me, looking into the camera with standard actor contrition. “I am truly sorry for the pain I caused Faith’s sister. Even though I don’t remember her, I am deeply sorry for violating our engagement. I will do whatever is necessary to make it right.” After the interview, Ben registered a new social media account. He posted a fake “Amnesia Diagnosis” from a hospital his father had bribed. He also posted that he was immediately transferring $8 million to me as a settlement. His PR team worked fast, and the public opinion started to shift again. 【Well, it’s still sad, but at least he’s taking responsibility. Eight million dollars is a lot of money.】 【They do have amnesia. The doctor’s note is right there. It’s just a tragedy.】 【Ben is so protective of Faith. It is kind of like a movie.】 I saw the tide turning. I hit the “Repost” button on Ben’s statement. I added just two words: 【He didn’t.】

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I was my own greatest rival. Simply because I had too many secret identities. The A-list actress, the mysterious best-selling novelist, the cult-favorite comic artist, the top-tier voice actress, the pet influencer… I don’t know how it happened, but my “A-list Actress” persona and my “Best-selling Novelist” persona started a war on Twitter. Watching the drama spiral out of control, I logged into my author account to settle things. “Stop fighting. An author’s job is to write in peace. Stay out of the Hollywood drama, sweetie.” The next morning, my phone nearly exploded. My manager called me, sounding like she was having a mental breakdown. “Aria Thorne! Who gave you permission to publicly shade Sloane Winter?!” 01 Bad news: I am Aria Thorne. Worse news: I am also Sloane Winter. If that tweet had been posted from the Sloane Winter account, it would have meant the author was gracefully bowing out of the conflict. But because I was half-asleep and blind, I forgot to switch accounts. I posted it from the Aria Thorne account. Now, it looked like Aria Thorne—the “hollow” Hollywood star—was condescendingly telling Sloane Winter to stay in her lane. That “sweetie” at the end? It was the sarcastic cherry on top. The internet was on fire. By nightfall, #AriaThorneIsACanceledSnake was the number one trending topic. I scrolled through the comments, and it was a bloodbath. [Oh, look at her getting threatened. Just because Sloane is rumored to be entering Hollywood, Aria is scared of losing her throne? Please. Sloane is a natural beauty, an actual genius, and her books get adapted into hits. Aria is just a face and a body. She’s spiraling.] I felt the urge to scream. I never said my author persona was entering Hollywood! That was a total rumor! [“Stay in her lane”? Aria, check your own ego. You’re the one who needs to find a heart.] [I’ve always liked Aria, but this is a low blow. Why bully an author who’s just minding her business?] My manager, Monica, demanded I apologize to Sloane Winter. She even wanted me to “build a bridge” with her because she had secured me a spot on a high-stakes reality show that could fix my reputation. I agreed, sounding defeated. I went to X, copied some generic apology, and tagged the Sloane Winter account. Then, I logged into the Sloane account and replied: “No worries. All good.” I thought that would be the end of it. Instead, they hated me even more. [That’s the most insincere apology I’ve seen in 2026. Does Aria Thorne have a soul?] [Sloane only said ‘no worries’ because she’s a class act. She didn’t even use an emoji. She’s clearly still pissed, as she should be.] I tapped my screen so hard I thought it would crack. Who gave you permission to analyze my non-existent emotions?! 02 The reality show was a live-streamed event called Truth or Dare: Hollywood Edition. It was the kind of show that could either make a career or end one. When I arrived, the air was thick with tension. There were two “Mystery Guests” yet to be revealed. The producers decided to play a game: the six regular cast members had to use their personal networks to invite the mystery guests to the set. Whoever succeeded would get a “Secret Grand Prize.” I sat on the velvet sofa, planning to stay invisible. I had enough money; I was actually planning to retire from the exhausting movie star life anyway. Then, the first name flashed on the screen: Caleb Vance. Not that jerk, I thought, sinking deeper into the sofa. Caleb Vance was a billionaire tech mogul now, but we grew up in the same group home. He was two years older and spent my entire childhood teasing me. We went our separate ways as adults. When I first started acting, he invited me to join his talent agency. I told him to go to hell. The first person to speak was a rising starlet named Seraphina. She smiled sweetly at the camera. “I have Mr. Vance’s private number. I can try, but no promises.” The chat went wild. [Wait, isn’t Seraphina signed to Vance Media? Are the rumors true? The CEO and the muse?] [I heard Caleb Vance set aside a massive budget three years ago just to sign one specific girl. Seraphina signed right around then!] Among the “Caleb + Seraphina” shippers, one user named “Aria’s-Husband” was getting bullied for saying: [Caleb only wanted to sign Aria Thorne!] Seraphina dialed. The phone rang for five seconds, then he hung up on her. The room went silent. Seraphina forced a smile. “He’s a very busy man. He must be in a board meeting.” I hid a smirk. Caleb wasn’t busy. He was never busy when it came to causing trouble. Once, because he knew I was allergic to roses, he rented a helicopter to drop a thousand red roses onto my balcony. I spent two days in the ER and cursed him for an hour. Another time, he secretly planted a forest of weeds under my window because I once said I liked “natural greenery.” I only found out when the HOA fined me. The guy next to Seraphina, a B-list actor named Xander, looked at me. “Aria, you’re smiling. Do you think you can get Mr. Vance to show up?” I shook my head instantly. “No. I don’t even know him.” “Then were you laughing at Seraphina?” Xander pressed. “No,” I lied. “I just remembered a funny video of my cat.” The silence in the room was judgmental. “Aria, this is a professional show. Try to be more mature,” Xander said, playing the moral high ground. Then, Blair, another actress from my agency, chimed in. “Seraphina, why don’t you try again? Someone like Mr. Vance wouldn’t just ignore a call from someone as ‘special’ as you.” Seraphina bit her lip and dialed again. This time, he picked up. “Who is this?” Caleb’s cold, bored voice filled the studio. “It’s… it’s Seraphina, from the agency. We met last week at the gala…” “Don’t know you,” Caleb said, and the line went dead. The chat was stunned. Except for “Aria’s-Husband,” who was laughing in all caps. Suddenly, Xander grabbed a business card from the production table and shoved it at me. “Since you’re so relaxed, Aria, why don’t you give it a shot?” I froze. This idiot. I only had one phone with me. It had two SIM cards: my Aria Thorne number and my Sloane Winter number. I didn’t know if Caleb had my Aria number saved, but I couldn’t risk the Sloane number. I looked at my smartwatch. It had a standalone LTE chip I almost never used. I checked the battery: 5%. I dialed. [Wait, is she using a kid’s smartwatch?] [Watching her fail is going to be the highlight of my week.] The call went through. He picked up on the first ring. “Hello?” His voice was suddenly warm, almost playful. I pitched my voice higher, trying to sound like a generic PR rep. “Hi, Mr. Vance. I’m a guest on Truth or Dare. We’d love to have you join us.” “I know,” Caleb said. “I’m watching the stream.” “What?” “I know it’s you, Aria,” he drawled. “I’m already in the car. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” “I’m bringing a gift. And no, it’s not red roses this time…” Before he could finish, I tapped my watch and pretended it died. “Oh, no. Out of battery.” The chat exploded. [HE KNEW HER?!] [He said ‘I know it’s you, Aria’ so gently… I’m screaming.] [Seraphina’s face right now… someone call an ambulance.] 03 Before I could process the Caleb situation, the second name appeared. Sloane Winter. The studio turned into a freezer. Every eye was on me. I had just “shaded” her on X three days ago. The host introduced her with a grin. “The legendary author herself. We’ve reached out to her editor and secured her private number. Let’s see who can get her to show her face for the first time ever.” My phone buzzed in my pocket. The production team had just sent Sloane Winter’s number to everyone. My number. I looked at my phone. My agent had sold me out! The cast had to draw lots to see who would call first. I drew #1. Great. I dialed my own second number. The busy signal rang out immediately. I looked at the camera with a fake, apologetic smile. “It seems Ms. Winter is currently on another call.” The chat flipped on me instantly. [Aria is so fake. Sloane is obviously blocking her calls after that stunt she pulled.] [I bet she’s terrified Sloane will actually show up.] [“Aria’s-Husband” here: Just wait. The truth is going to hit you like a truck.] I reached into my pocket, held the power button, and slid to power off. The second person to call was Seraphina. She got a “User Busy” message. “Maybe her phone is dead?” Seraphina suggested, trying to regain some pride. “I’ll try again in two minutes.” She was trying to hog the guest spot. Blair Montgomery sneered at her. “Seraphina, if she wanted to talk to you, she would have. Don’t be desperate.” Seraphina ignored her and dialed again. This time, the phone in my pocket—which I thought I had turned off—vibrated violently. I must have hit ‘Restart’ instead of ‘Power Off’. “Oops,” I laughed nervously, pulling the phone out. “Spam call.” I declined the call right in front of the camera. Just then, Caleb Vance walked into the studio. He was wearing a casual charcoal suit, looking every bit the “Ascetic Billionaire.” But in his arms, he was carrying a massive bouquet of… dandelions and clover. The chat lost its mind. [Dandelions? Who gives weeds as a gift?] [Aria is a gold digger; she probably hates those weeds.] [Caleb Vance is a troll. I love him.] Caleb walked straight to me and handed me the “weeds.” “Long time no see,” he whispered, sitting right next to me. I glared at him. “Go away.” “Sorry,” he murmured under his breath so the mics wouldn’t catch it. The chat saw the interaction and assumed he was marking his territory. But then, the drama shifted. Someone had dug up my “Secret Burner Account.” It was an account where I ranted about my writing process. I had complained about every character I ever wrote. When I had writer’s block, I called the book “garbage.” When the heroine was captured, I called the hero “a useless wimp who can’t even fly.” The “Aria Thorne” haters were using it as proof that I was a toxic person who hated the very industry I worked in. They claimed I was mocking the actors who played those roles. The hashtag #CancelAriaThorne was gaining massive traction. The live stream was lagging because so many people were logging in to curse at me. The producers had to pause the stream for a moment to fix the servers. In the quiet of the studio, Xander turned to me with a sneer. “The mask is off, Aria. You’re a bitter, mean girl. You’re done.” Before I could speak, Caleb stood up. He looked Xander up and down. “Your name is Xander, right? You should worry about your own contract. My legal team is already looking into your ‘unprofessional conduct’ on this set.” Xander turned pale. Seraphina tried to ‘comfort’ Caleb. “Mr. Vance, you shouldn’t defend her. She even mocked you in her posts.” Caleb laughed. “She did? Good. I like it when she’s honest. I’m a bit of a masochist when it comes to her. Any problem with that?” I hit him with my elbow. “Shut up.” 04 I hated Caleb Vance. Everyone in the group home knew that. I was there before he was. Back then, I was shy and sensitive. The other kids bullied me. When Caleb arrived, he was the tallest and the meanest. He made sure no one else touched me—just so he could have the exclusive right to tease me himself. He used to call me “Goldfish” because he said I had a three-second memory when it came to his insults. I hated that name. One day, I hit him with a textbook and started crying. He sat next to me and didn’t apologize, but he stopped calling me Goldfish. He started calling me “Aria.” That was when he gave me a ring he’d woven from clover and dandelion stems. “When we grow up,” he’d said, “this will be our promise. I’ll marry you.” I threw the ring into the grass. “I’d never marry a jerk like you! When I’m famous, I’m going to have real diamonds and red roses!” We grew apart. Caleb went off to reclaim his family’s lost empire. I went off to college, realized I was deathly allergic to roses, and started my “thousand masks” journey because I was broke. I took the name Aria Thorne for the screen. I took Sloane Winter for my books. I took other names for my art and voice work. I became a success because of Caleb—not because he helped me, but because he taught me how to be tough.

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When Julian Sterling was blind, I took him in. He liked to bite my ear and whisper that he was my good dog. In the dead of night, he loved to measure my body with his hands, over and over, claiming he could map out exactly what I looked like. Later, his vision was restored. It turned out he was the missing heir to the Sterling empire, and he already had a lifelong sweetheart. Before he ever saw my face, I left behind a forged death certificate and vanished without a trace. I hid for five years. I only dared to resurface when I heard he was getting married. But the moment my plane landed, I was surrounded by a wall of men in black suits at the airport. Julian held a custom-made wedding dress, his smile gentle yet terrifyingly obsessive. “Fiancée, the measurements I took five years ago aren’t accurate anymore. “Be a good girl. Let me measure you again.” 01 My manager dragged me to the door of the private VIP room, but I froze, too terrified to step inside. Because Julian Sterling, the heir to the Sterling empire, was sitting right in there. Through the crack in the heavy mahogany door, I heard someone flattering him: “Mr. Sterling, I heard that when you went missing years ago, you actually lost your sight for a while? That must have been an incredibly difficult time.” Julian let out a low, scoffing laugh. “I wouldn’t call it difficult. I had someone taking care of my every need. Honestly, life was easier then than it is now.” “That must have been your fiancée, right? Now that is true love through adversity. Congratulations, it’s wonderful to see true love win in the end…” “No.” Julian cut him off, his voice chillingly detached. “She is right here.” I jumped, my head snapping up in panic. Through the crack, I saw Julian pointing a long finger directly at the floor beneath him. “Buried right here.” Oh, right. I was “dead.” Five years ago, Julian had personally signed the paperwork confirming my death certificate. My manager, eavesdropping beside me, whispered: “That girl was so unlucky. If she hadn’t died, she’d probably be living like a queen right now…” I forced a smile. “Unlikely.” My manager disagreed. “Why are you so sure?” “If she got the heir to the Sterling empire to agree to her being his live-in caretaker, she must have had some serious tricks up her sleeve. Her seduction skills were probably top-tier!” I lowered my eyes, hiding my overwhelming guilt. Sometimes, even I couldn’t tell who seduced who the first time Julian and I slept together. Back then, because he was blind, his hearing was abnormally sharp. I merely whispered something quietly in his ear, but to him, the sound was like a bomb going off, sending a shiver straight to his core. I was incredibly naive back then, and I genuinely asked him, “What does a climax actually feel like?” While he was explaining it, he reached out to touch my heart. But his hand slipped a little too low. Instantly, the veins in his neck bulged, and he went completely stiff. Seeing him freeze up like a statue, I thought he was having a heart attack. Crying, I threw myself onto him, trying to give him CPR. He flipped us over, pinning me down, and sealed my lips with his… Just as I was lost in the memory, a waiter pushing a cart accidentally bumped into me. Instinctively, I let out a sharp “Ah!” The slightly ajar door swung wide open from the impact. Sitting in the seat facing the door, Julian slowly lifted his eyes and looked straight at me. 02 Julian and I locked eyes. In that split second, the blood in my veins turned to ice. I was so paralyzed I couldn’t even turn around to run. But the panic only lasted a few seconds. Thank God for the brutal reality of surviving the last five years; it had trained me to plaster on a flawless, fake smile in an instant. It was almost funny. Even though Julian and I had shared a bed for two years… Even though his hands had mapped every inch of my face and body more times than my own hands had… To him, I was just a ghost whose face he had never actually seen. So what if we slept together? How could a blind man recognize a face he had never looked at? Exactly as I predicted, Julian didn’t recognize me. When our wine glasses clinked later in the evening, his gaze was deep but entirely indifferent. Yet, when his eyes landed on me, a phantom shiver still ran down my spine. It felt exactly like the very first time I saw him. It was a stormy night, thunder crashing and lightning splitting the sky. My mother had just passed away in the hospital. Crying uncontrollably on my way home, I tripped and fell in a dark, narrow alleyway. Julian was slumped against the brick wall, soaked to the bone, barely clinging to life, looking utterly wretched. Under the flickering, dim streetlamp, the side of his face was covered in brutal cuts and bruises, yet he was still breathtakingly handsome. His dark eyes were bleeding, but his gaze was filled with a chilling, ruthless desolation. I was terrified. I wanted to run. But then I thought of my mother. She had been in so much agony in her hospital bed. I always wished someone, anyone, could have saved her… In the end, I dragged Julian back to my rundown, low-rent apartment and spent every penny of my meager savings to treat his wounds. At the time, I was completely ignorant. I was too poor to recognize that his shredded clothes were worth a fortune. I genuinely thought he was just another homeless, lost soul like me. I even convinced myself that my mother, watching from heaven, felt sorry for me and sent him so I wouldn’t be so devastatingly alone. I thought I finally had a family again. Someone to care for. Suddenly, my manager pinched the back of my hand. “What are you daydreaming about? Why are you smiling like that?” I snapped back to reality, the smile on my lips freezing. Seeing my reaction, my manager suddenly leaned in and whispered: “Chloe, don’t tell me you’ve got your eyes on Julian Sterling? Let me warn you, he is notoriously ruthless when it comes to women. Anyone who tries to seduce him ends up completely destroyed. “Word is his fiancée is his childhood sweetheart, the golden princess of the New York elite. They are deeply in love. “Don’t let his looks fool you. He’s way out of our league. One wrong move, and you’ll offend him permanently.” Offend him? Uh, well about that… When I finally decided to leave Julian, I tied him to a cheap, hundred-dollar mattress. And rode him ruthlessly for three straight hours. While doing it, I casually informed him that I only kept him around because I was lonely and bored. He was just a fun little toy. But now, a rich sugar daddy wanted to keep me, so I didn’t need him anymore. Julian’s veins popped, his face contorted in rage, and he roared hoarsely: “Chloe Vance, you better pray I never catch you! Because when I do, I will f*cking ride you until your voice gives out!” I’m pretty sure that in all his life as a billionaire heir, even being blind hadn’t been as humiliating as that moment. As far as offending him went, I had already crossed the point of no return. Luckily, I was legally “dead.” I guess I should thank his fiancée for that. Anyway, once the toasts were over tonight, there was zero chance Julian and I would ever cross paths again. With that comforting thought, I casually strolled out into the hotel’s garden for some fresh air. I looked up, only to see a tall, imposing silhouette standing there, a cigarette pinched between his long fingers. It was Julian. He turned his head and looked right at me. Just as my brain was frantically calculating an escape route, he suddenly called out: “Resurrect.” I jumped. Resurrect?! Did he recognize me?! 03 Fortunately, before I completely lost my mind and accidentally confessed everything… A small dog suddenly darted out from behind him and affectionately rubbed against my leg. It was the little mutt I used to have! Because I was so indecisive, I had never officially given it a name. Julian actually adopted it? And he named it “Resurrect”?! Resurrect what? …Resurrect his “dead” ex-girlfriend?! A cold shiver violently racked my body. If he ever found out I wasn’t dead, that I had played him for a fool… The consequences would be unimaginable. “Resurrect, stop it.” Julian put out his cigarette and waved the dog over. But the little dog hadn’t seen me in so long, it was practically doing backflips of joy around my ankles. “It seems my dog really likes you.” Julian’s gaze landed on my face, calm but impossibly deep. I forced myself to stay calm. I was actually grateful the dog was going crazy at my feet, giving me a perfect excuse for the blatant panic I couldn’t hide on my face. “I’m sorry. It might be because I smell like meat. Some steak juice splashed on my dress earlier. “I should get back inside. Have a good evening, Mr. Sterling.” But before I could take a single step, Julian suddenly spoke again: “Being a dog must be nice.” I froze. “…Excuse me?” “Being a dog. As long as you’re obedient, your master rewards you. There’s nothing wrong with being a good dog.” Years ago, in the heat of passion, Julian would hover over me, biting my ear, and whisper: “I am Chloe’s good dog.” My heart skyrocketed into my throat. I clenched my fists tight. “I apologize, Mr. Sterling, but I’m human. I don’t know much about dogs.” My blunt, literal response caused the atmosphere to instantly flatline. I desperately wanted an excuse to leave, but Julian suddenly threw out a chilling question: “Then, if you had a good dog, would you abandon it?” “…I would never get a dog.” “Why not?” “Because I don’t have the capacity to take on that responsibility.” I lost my mother, I lost Julian, and I lost my little mutt. I would never allow myself to have a weakness ever again. “I need to go finish the toasts. I won’t bother you any longer, Mr. Sterling.” I turned around. But the little dog lunged at me again. I was walking too fast, terrified my heels would step on it. I stumbled, losing my balance, and pitched forward. A pair of large hands reached out from behind, catching me firmly and pulling me flush against a solid chest. “Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself? Does it hurt anywhere?” My nose bumped against Julian’s chest, and his deep, frantic voice rumbled from above my head. It was exactly like the two years we spent together. His overwhelming care and concern… it gave me the heartbreaking illusion that we could actually grow old together. “Julian, why have you been out in the garden for so long?” Suddenly, a sweet, melodic female voice rang out behind us. I didn’t even need to turn around to know exactly who it was. Victoria Hastings. Julian’s childhood sweetheart. His fiancée. 04 The voice that shatters your most beautiful dreams is the one you remember the clearest. For me, that voice belonged to Victoria Hastings. I vividly remembered the day Victoria stepped into my cramped, low-rent apartment in her designer heels, looked around, and delivered her first sentence: “Julian actually slept in this literal garbage dump for two years? “He really endured all this just for our future together. Amazing.” I wasn’t normally a weak person. But looking at the glamorous, radiant Victoria, I couldn’t even force a single word of defense out of my throat. For the first time in my life, I cried bitter tears over my own crushing poverty. But thankfully, that wouldn’t happen today. Because my heart was no longer barren and destitute. I quickly shoved Julian away and stood up straight. Victoria walked over from behind him. When she saw my face, her pupils dilated in pure shock for a split second. But she recovered her flawless composure within seconds. Clearly, her acting skills were vastly superior to mine. She smiled and asked: “Hello, you must be the new singer signed to Tara’s agency, right?” “Yes.” “Then why were you hugging Julian just now?” Victoria pouted, looking at Julian playfully, her tone sickeningly sweet. “Aren’t you afraid your fiancée might get jealous?” “Fiancée.” Julian slowly lifted his eyes, repeating the word she had just said. But his dark, bottomless eyes were locked dead onto me. It looked as if molten lava was boiling violently beneath his gaze. “I was startled by the dog. Thank you for catching me, Mr. Sterling. Have a good evening.” My expression didn’t change. I delivered the line and immediately walked away. But Julian took a long stride, completely blocking my path. He pulled an elegant, wax-sealed wedding invitation from his suit jacket and handed it to me. “My wedding is next month. You will be there.” His voice was heavy, delivering an absolute command, not a request. Victoria whined playfully, “Julian, you’re so silly. The invitation is wax-sealed, and it says it can only be opened on the day of the wedding! How is anyone supposed to know the names of the bride and groom?!” I had absolutely zero interest in watching them flirt. I politely took the invitation and walked away. On the way back to my hotel room, I casually tore the invitation in half and tossed it into a trash can. I didn’t notice that on one of the torn corners, a tiny, elegant letter “C” was visible… 05 I initially thought running into Julian was just a terrifying coincidence. I put it out of my mind and focused entirely on my career. Until my manager told me that a massive, A-list director had specifically requested me to sing the opening theme song for his upcoming blockbuster. For a minor artist like me, this was like winning the lottery. But when I arrived at the studio and saw Julian sitting there, I realized it had nothing to do with luck. —He had personally requested me. My incredibly extroverted manager, Tara, pulled me over and enthusiastically greeted everyone in the room. When we reached Julian, he actually lowered his aristocratic head and spoke first: “Miss Vance, it’s been a long time.” Tara quickly laughed, “Mr. Sterling, you must be mistaken. Her last name is Davies. Her name is Chloe Davies.” My heart hammered against my ribs. Back then, after faking my death, I moved to a different state, deleted my identity, and legally changed my name to my mother’s maiden name. But my mother had chosen the name “Chloe” for me, and I couldn’t bear to change it. Besides, “Chloe” was a common enough name. Julian’s gaze seized me, his tone dangerously casual: “I suppose my memory must be failing me then. “I used to have an old friend named Chloe. Except her last name was Vance.” The more I spoke, the more likely I was to make a mistake. I decided to stay completely silent, plastering on a socially awkward, shy smile. Tara, thinking I was blowing a massive networking opportunity, secretly glared at me. I just pretended to be blind. At noon, the production staff brought in catered lunches. Fruit salad. The portion handed to me was loaded with mangoes. I am highly allergic to mangoes, a fact Julian knew better than anyone. But if I refused it now, his suspicions would turn into absolute certainty. My allergy wasn’t life-threatening—I’d just break out in hives. Popping a Claritin later would clear it right up. Compared to the apocalyptic disaster of my cover being blown, a few hives were nothing. I opened the container right in front of Julian, stabbed a large chunk of mango with my fork, and brought it to my lips. The next second, Julian actually reached out and violently snatched the fork out of my hand. He used so much force it felt like he was legitimately furious. The mango splattered onto the table. Tara was stunned. “Mr. Sterling…” Julian grabbed the entire bowl of salad from in front of me as well. I heard him instructing his assistant as he walked away: “I’ll eat this one. Get her a hot meal with rice.” Moments later, the assistant returned with a massive, luxurious multi-course meal just for me. It was from The Golden Lotus. A meal from there cost at least a thousand dollars. Tara was flabbergasted. She leaned in and whispered frantically: “Chloe, did you secretly hook up with Mr. Sterling behind my back?! Did you actually bag him??” “Tara, didn’t you just tell me last week that he was notoriously ruthless and untouchable?” “But the way he was looking at you… how do I explain this? It felt like you were the only thing he cared about. In a room full of people, he only had eyes for you.” My grip on my chopsticks tightened. He only cared about me? It seems I wasn’t the only idiot who fell for the illusion. Even a sharp, cynical businesswoman like Tara was completely fooled by it. 06 When I first brought Julian home, he was blind, and his injuries were incredibly severe. I was so broke that every piece of clothing I owned had patches on it. I genuinely considered just dropping him off at a homeless shelter. But Julian seemed to sense exactly what I was thinking. As I stood up to open the door, he reached out with his bruised, bloody hands and grabbed the hem of my shirt. “Don’t… don’t send me away…” He “looked” directly at me with his unseeing eyes. Even though they were blind, those eyes were as deep as the ocean, capable of drowning anyone who looked too closely. My heart instantly melted. I asked him where his parents or family were. He claimed he had no idea. He kept his head down, the unhealed cuts on his cheeks making him look like a giant, abandoned puppy. I figured he must have been ruthlessly discarded by someone, causing the trauma that wiped his memory. I started working three part-time jobs a day just to afford his medical treatments. Every night when I came home exhausted, Julian would wrap me in his arms and warm my freezing hands and feet. “Chloe, you work so hard. “Once my eyes are healed, I’m going to give you the most luxurious life, the most beautiful home. You’ll never have to suffer like this again. I’ll make sure you live like a queen for the rest of your life. “I’m so sorry, Chloe. I’m the reason you’re so exhausted. Just wait a little longer. I promise I will make it happen.” His arms and legs were so long they could completely envelop me in his embrace. Hearing him say those things, my heart felt like it was drowning in honey. I didn’t even notice how effortlessly and confidently he made those massive promises. Nor did I catch the fleeting flash of guilt and restraint in his eyes. “How could I possibly blame you? I have to work anyway. “Hubby, I’ve been thinking… once we save enough money, we’ll go to Boston to get your eyes checked. I heard they have the best eye hospitals in the country there… “No matter what, I’m going to get you cured so we can see the world together. “If we get the chance, maybe we’ll even have a baby! But if we can’t, that’s fine too. We’re already each other’s babies, right? “Oh! And one day, I want to buy a house that’s all ours. Not a tiny, cramped one like this. One that doesn’t leak when it rains or lose power every week…” Whenever I started rambling about these dreams, Julian would just hold me tighter and silence me with a kiss. Then he’d strip me naked, pin me down, and make love to me over and over again. That way, my mouth was only useful for moaning, and I couldn’t talk about anything else. Looking back now, maybe Julian just didn’t want to hear my pathetic little fantasies. Because to him, my ultimate “dream life” was just basic, ordinary survival. But he was a billionaire heir, born with a silver spoon in his mouth, raised in a literal palace. The “luxurious life” he envisioned was on an entirely different stratosphere than mine. In that tiny, dilapidated apartment, we were just two lonely souls clinging to each other for warmth. But the moment we stepped outside that door, we were two entirely different species, separated by an uncrossable chasm of wealth and class. 07 During a break in the recording session, Victoria showed up. The golden princess of New York, Julian’s childhood sweetheart. Everyone immediately fawned over her. Victoria handed out expensive afternoon tea to the crew, saving a box of handmade chestnut pastries specifically for Julian. “Why the sudden interest in a theme song recording? I saw you listening so intently just now.” Julian didn’t take the pastries. His tone was icy: “Because I needed to see someone very important.” The crew immediately started making “ooh” and “ahh” noises, teasing them. Victoria’s face flushed a delicate pink. Someone bold enough asked, “Mr. Sterling, is the big day officially set for next month?” Julian’s tone shifted from icy to deadly serious: “Yes. At the wedding next month, I will officially confess my love to the woman I adore.” I didn’t want to hear another word. I turned around and headed to the balcony to clear my head. That massive lunch had hit me like a brick; I was in a total carb coma. After getting some fresh air, I was about to head back inside when I heard voices near the side door. “Julian, do you really think that girl Chloe Davies sounds like her?” It was Victoria speaking. “Yes.” “But she’s been dead for five years! You were the one who told me to give her a lump sum to appease her. All I did was add a little extra, and she took the cash and vanished without a second thought. She obviously didn’t love you that much. She clearly loved the money more…” Actually, Victoria had it all wrong. I wasn’t nearly smart enough back then to realize that money was vastly more important than men. The reason I took the money and ran so quickly was due to something else entirely. First, I was completely out of my depth and so humiliated by Victoria’s insults that I just wanted the ground to swallow me whole. Second, a full two weeks before Victoria ever showed up at my door, I had accidentally caught her and Julian together. That day, the owner of the diner where I worked had an emergency, so I went home early. When I arrived, the man who was supposedly blind and suffering from amnesia was standing perfectly straight in our courtyard, holding a stunning woman in his arms. His eyes were wide open, clear, and filled with absolute adoration. When he scanned the area, his gaze turned incredibly sharp and predatory. Where was the blindness? The only one who was blind in that relationship was me. Back then, I was so pathetic and cowardly it was almost funny. Seeing them together, my heart felt like it was being ripped out of my chest. I hid in an alleyway and cried for hours. But when I finally went inside, I pretended everything was fine. I didn’t even have the guts to confront him. I was terrified of the truth. I was terrified that if I asked, Julian would just walk out the door, and I’d be utterly alone again. But later, Victoria showed up with a briefcase full of cash and threw a stack of intimate photos of her and Julian on the table. Along with… photos of them in bed together. That was the final straw. Even a pathetic loser like me had my limits! My mother always told me never to use a man who had been used by someone else. It meant he was defective. So, I angrily rode Julian for three straight hours… Then, I fully cooperated with Victoria’s fake death scheme, took the cash, and disappeared. Thinking back on it now, my only regret is— I definitely should have asked for more money. 08 A whole week passed after the photoshoot, and absolutely nothing happened. I figured Julian had been convinced by Victoria and wasn’t going to try and test me anymore. That evening, as I was packing my bags to leave for a shoot in another state, Tara was scrolling through her phone. “Oh wow. I just heard from a friend that Mr. Sterling’s dog went missing. They’ve been searching for days and still haven’t found it.” The little mutt was missing?! When I faked my death and left, I couldn’t take the dog with me. So I entrusted it to the family that owned the BBQ chicken stand at the end of the alley. I figured it could at least get some leftover meat and bones to eat there. “They said Mr. Sterling just bought a new, expensive purebred. Guess he’s giving up on the old one,” Tara added casually. Her words sent me into a full panic. It was clear I couldn’t rely on a bastard like Julian to care. I grabbed a cab in the pouring rain and rushed straight to my old, rundown neighborhood. Sure enough, the door to the old apartment was unlocked. I rushed in, closing my umbrella. “Mutt! I knew you’d be hiding here…” Click. The lights flicked on. The little dog wasn’t there. Instead, sitting at the cheap, plastic folding table was a tall, incredibly imposing figure that looked completely out of place. He was holding a lit cigarette. When he raised his eyes to look at me, his gaze was more violently red than the burning cherry. “Chloe. You’re back.” 09 It was Julian! The second I saw the little dog happily tied to the leg of his chair, I knew I had walked straight into a trap. But I still tried a pathetic, dying struggle: “…Mr. Sterling, what are you calling me?” Julian stared at me, his gaze completely unblinking: “That night at the hotel, ‘Resurrect’ was incredibly affectionate with you. He never approaches strangers. “When I gave you the wedding invitation, you tore it up and threw it in the trash. If you truly didn’t know me, you wouldn’t have done that. Attending a billionaire’s wedding is a massive networking opportunity; you should have been thrilled. “I had you brought in to record that song. The second you opened your mouth, I knew it was you. “Also, when you looked at the mangoes, you hesitated. But you deliberately tried to eat them right in front of me. “From that eight-course meal, you didn’t touch the cilantro, and you didn’t touch the mushrooms. “And above all else— “Chloe Vance. I’ve mapped every inch of your body with my hands a thousand times. Did you honestly think… I wouldn’t recognize you?” Since my cover was blown so spectacularly, I decided to drop the act. “Fine. I’m Chloe Vance. So, what do you want from me, Mr. Sterling?” “You think you can ride a man until he drops and just run away?” Julian took long, predatory strides toward me. He was radiating absolute malice. I genuinely thought he was going to hit me. After all, when I rode him that last time, I was absolutely merciless. My thighs ached so badly I couldn’t even squat for a month. I imagined he didn’t fare much better. But when Julian reached me, he raised his hand— And gently placed it on my cheek. His freezing fingertips traced my skin with excruciating softness. “So, this is what you look like. You look exactly how I imagined. “All these years, I’ve traced your face in my mind, millions of times. “You’re so beautiful.” He stared at me intently. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.” I didn’t flinch. I kept my voice perfectly flat. “Are you having fun playing games, rich boy?” Julian’s hand froze. “Chloe.” He whispered my name. “Look at you. You’re back at the top of the world. Power, wealth, you have it all in the palm of your hand. So now you’re feeling nostalgic? Want to reminisce about the good old days and play out your little slum-romance fantasy again? “You want to play? Fine. Pay me, and I’ll play whatever sick game you want.” I stared directly into his eyes. Maybe my dead-serious expression finally pushed him over the edge. He glared at me, grinding his teeth: “Is money all you care about? For money, you’d even throw away your own name and your home, wouldn’t you?!” “Yes—and not just that. Back then, I took three million dollars, faked my death, deleted my identity, and vanished. Looking back on it now, I was incredibly stupid. “You are the heir to the most powerful dynasty in New York. I saved your life. Thirty million wouldn’t have been asking too much.” Julian suddenly hauled me up into his arms. He slammed his lips down onto mine, kissing me violently. With one hand, he ripped off his tie and bound my wrists together. His mouth aggressively trailed down my neck to my collarbone. I couldn’t escape, so I stopped fighting. “Want to sleep with me? Go ahead. What do I have to be afraid of? I already slept with you when you were a blind nobody. Now that you’re an untouchable billionaire, getting to sleep with you means I’m winning, doesn’t it?” My words infuriated him so much his chest heaved. He leaned over, looking like he was about to throw me onto that cheap, hundred-dollar mattress. But then he suddenly remembered something, stopped, picked me back up, and carried me out the door.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “421721”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I harbored a secret crush on the boy who protected his childhood friend until he was expelled from school. Years later, when I became a top-tier talent manager, I ran into him waiting tables at a restaurant. He had long forgotten me, but I still wanted to give him a chance. I asked him, “Leo Vance, do you want to act?” He left with me. It took me three years to transform him from a waiter into the entertainment industry’s newest A-lister. And then, the childhood friend he had protected all those years ago came back looking for him. 01 Leo Vance didn’t tell me that Chloe Sterling had come looking for him. I found out because a media outlet I was close with caught a video of Leo shopping at a supermarket with a girl. I had a good relationship with the owner of this media outlet. The money I paid him every year was enough to cover the annual revenue of a mid-sized company with over a hundred employees. So, he didn’t publish it. Following the unwritten rules of our industry, he sold the video to me as a favor. I clicked open the video. The paparazzi must have been staking them out for a long time, because the Leo in the photos was fully bundled up; unless you knew him extremely well, you wouldn’t be able to recognize him. However, the girl beside him, dressed in casual clothes, was completely unmasked. Even after all this time, and despite the blurry quality, I recognized her the moment I laid eyes on her. Chloe Sterling. She and Leo were my high school classmates, and she was the childhood friend who grew up with him. During high school, Leo was the big man on campus. He was brilliant back then, never dropping out of the top ten in the grade. Of course, I consistently held the number one spot, but it was different. I spent over a dozen hours studying every day, while he belonged to the type who could easily get good grades with minimal effort. Good grades, handsome, popular—he was famous throughout the school. Naturally, Chloe, who walked to and from school with him every day, received a lot of attention too. At that time, Leo was the student all the teachers had the highest hopes for. During the final push in senior year, everyone had high expectations for him. That was until he, in order to protect Chloe from being harassed by thugs on her way home, used excessive force in self-defense, resulting in permanent disability for one of the thugs. This incident caused a massive uproar at the time, even drawing the attention of the school board. I don’t know if it went on his permanent record, but the thug’s parents were wealthy and powerful, and they refused to let it go. Chloe, who should have stepped forward to explain, never showed her face. Eventually, the school had no choice but to expel Leo. The last time I saw Leo during high school was at the bus station. His figure, dragging a suitcase, was swallowed by the crowd. He was very tall. I watched him look around at the sea of people. He probably didn’t find the person he wanted to see, so he gave a self-deprecating smile and, without looking back, boarded the bus to Los Angeles. At the time, I hid in the crowd, secretly seeing him off for the last time—though I really didn’t need to hide; Leo probably didn’t even know who I was. The next time I saw him was seven years later, at a very ordinary wrap party. When he came over carrying a bottle of ’92 Lafite, I recognized him immediately. I blurted out in astonishment, “Leo Vance?” He was also stunned, politely asking, “Do you know me?” I smiled then. I looked at him. The premature hardships of life had given his aura a calm and steady depth, but his face was still incredibly handsome. He was different from the pretty-boy idols under my management. His handsomeness had a restrained, story-like quality. Combined with his sharp eyebrows and striking eyes, a single glance was enough to captivate everyone. I didn’t tell him we were high school classmates. Before leaving, I simply handed him my business card. He took it, glanced at it, and seeing my name, showed no emotion. I knew then he had no memory of me. But I didn’t mind. I smiled at him sincerely and said, “Leo Vance, you have great potential. Any interest in joining the entertainment industry?” Three days later, I received a call from Leo. Leo had excellent natural potential, and in the entertainment industry, a good face is half the battle. Add to that the fact that I poured all the resources I had into promoting him—with the right timing, right place, and right people—Leo’s rise to stardom was a matter of course, and he became the ace artist under my management. He had always been very cooperative, saving me a lot of trouble, and never caused any incidents. Until today, when I received this video. I watched the video on my phone again, then called Leo. No one answered. I pondered for a moment, closed my phone, stood up, grabbed my car keys from the desk, and walked out. 02 I stood at the door of Leo’s house and rang the doorbell. After a long time with no answer, I waited another five minutes, then started punching in the passcode. I handled everything for Leo. I was the one who found this place for him when he made his first pot of gold. It offered strong privacy and confidentiality—more importantly, I knew the developers well, which saved him a considerable amount of money. When setting the passcode, I asked him what he wanted it to be. He seemed to have no particular preference at the time, just saying, “Whatever.” I joked, half-smiling, “Whatever? Since anything goes, I’ll set it as my birthday. That way, every time you enter the code, you’ll remember my birthday, remember to thank your benefactor, and send me a big gift on time.” He smiled too. Later, this passcode was kept until today; he never changed it. I entered my birthday, and with a “beep,” the door unlocked. I stood at the door, knocked once more. I had given Leo plenty of time. I didn’t know what might be inside, but whatever it was, after all this time, he should have cleaned it up. I walked in, very surprised to find Leo wasn’t there. Instead, a girl stood in the middle of the living room, wearing Leo’s t-shirt, her bare, pale legs showing underneath. She looked at me with panic and confusion. It was Chloe. I stood in the entryway, paused, and asked her, “Where’s Leo?” She looked at me with hesitation, asking in alarm, “Who are you?” I didn’t answer. I opened the shoe cabinet but couldn’t find my slippers. I looked up at Chloe, and sure enough, I saw my slippers on her feet. I remained silent. I have severe OCD; if someone touches my personal items, I won’t use them again. I didn’t show any emotion towards Chloe. I gave her a polite, professional smile and introduced myself: “Hello, I’m Leo’s manager, and also his girlfriend. Could you please tell me where Leo is?” Leo and I got together a year ago. As two consenting adults with mutual attraction, and considering I had always liked him, I never hid that affection from him. Leo was definitely aware of it, but neither of us ever brought it out into the open. We finally got together two years ago when he was just starting to get noticed. I went to negotiate a brand endorsement for him. During the business dinner, I drank quite a bit. I maintained a facade of effortless charm and witty banter until I signed the contract and saw the brand executives to their cars. Only then did I start throwing up. Leo took me home and stayed to take care of me. In my groggy state, I heard him sigh helplessly by my bed and say, “Harper Quinn, you work too hard.” Leo had a cold, reticent personality. That was the first time I had ever heard him use such a helpless tone, and I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. I was considered a legend in the industry. I started from the bottom as an assistant and worked my way up to becoming a top-tier manager at a young age. Although young, I handled people and situations flawlessly, never leaving any room for criticism. Hearing me laugh, he couldn’t help but smile too. I opened my eyes, looked at him, and joked half-seriously, “If I don’t work hard, how am I supposed to push you to the top?” He froze for a moment, then said quietly, “Harper, I’m very lucky to have met you.” That was the first time he ever thanked me. After that, we had an unspoken understanding. Maybe it was the mood of the moment, but anyway, we got together. Leo and I were both adults with normal physiological needs. We spent our days and nights together; isn’t there a saying, “Proximity favors romance”? After seven years, I finally plucked the moon I had admired in my youth. But now, looking at Chloe, whose face had instantly turned pale at my words, I thought distractedly: I finally caught the moon of my youth, but he also has his own moon. I wonder if it’s time for me, the substitute, to step down. 03 When Leo returned, I was sitting on the sofa, slowly sipping tea. Chloe stood awkwardly and pitifully by the sofa across from me. She didn’t sit down. Her face was pale, and her eyes were rimmed with red, as if I had bullied her. Leo, carrying bags in his hands, froze when he saw me. Chloe seemed to view him as her protector, immediately crying out with grievance, “Leo.” Leo ignored her. To him, he was very cold. He only asked me, “Harper, why are you here?” I looked at him. Although he didn’t pay attention to Chloe, only speaking to me, he was standing right next to her. Knowing him as well as I did, I recognized this as a subtle, protective stance. I smoothly set down my teacup, took out my phone, and pulled up the video the media had sent me to show him. He took it, glanced at it, and quickly explained, “This is a misunderstanding. She’s my sister, Chloe Sterling.” At his words, Chloe looked at him, her eyes growing even redder, clearly on the verge of tears. I smiled and asked him, “Biological sister?” He paused, explaining, “My neighbor’s sister. I haven’t seen her in a long time, she… her family had an emergency, so she came to me for help.” Chloe Sterling. On my way here, I had already looked into her background completely. After Leo was expelled and left all those years ago, she remained unaffected, took her college entrance exams normally, got into an average university, and worked a mundane office job after graduating. I knew that in Leo’s first year after his debut, she had tried to contact him. Back then, Leo was expelled because of her, and she didn’t even see him off. I don’t know what was going through Leo’s mind, but he never replied to her messages. This time, she came looking for him because her father had gotten involved in a pyramid scheme. Not only was he scammed out of a large sum of money, but he also dragged his relatives and friends down with him, leaving them penniless. Her father fled, and Chloe couldn’t stay in her hometown anymore, so she burned her bridges and came looking for Leo. Now it seems, she made the right bet. Leo hated her for abandoning him and being so callous back then, but ultimately, he couldn’t harden his heart against her. Probably because the first love of your youth is always special. To me, and to Leo, it was the same. I nodded, dispensing with nonsense, and asked him, “What are you going to do? Just let her stay here with you?” Leo glanced at Chloe, furrowing his brow slightly, as if pondering. This scene truly annoyed me. I stood up, directly making the decision for him: “I’ve already intercepted one PR crisis for you. She cannot live here with you. It’s too dangerous.” “I’ll have my assistant find an apartment for her soon and help her get settled.” Pausing, I looked into his eyes and continued, “Leo, I hope you won’t get involved in matters concerning her again.” “I’m saying this not just as your manager, but also as your girlfriend.” Only then did Chloe timidly speak up. She was quite good at playing weak. Although she wasn’t particularly pretty, her delicate demeanor easily evoked pity. She said, “Sister, you misunderstood. I… there’s nothing going on between me and Leo. When I arrived, I was starving, so Leo took me out for hotpot. I smelled like food, so I took a shower.” “But I escaped from home, I didn’t bring anything with me, so I had to wear Leo’s clothes.” She finished speaking and opened the bags Leo had just bought to show me. It seemed like an explanation as she said, “Look, Leo just went out to buy me clothes. Once I change, I’ll leave with you. Don’t worry, I absolutely won’t cause any trouble for Leo.” Saying that, she carried the clothes and walked familiarly toward Leo’s bedroom, clearly intending to change there. I’ve seen it all in the entertainment industry. Her “pick-me” act was so obvious, but I couldn’t be bothered to engage with such low-level tactics, so I just stood there waiting for her to come out. Leo stood in front of me, offering a brief explanation: “Harper, I didn’t mean to hide this from you, I just didn’t think it was necessary.” “There is absolutely nothing between me and her, you shouldn’t overthink it.” I looked up at him. Even now, I was smiling. Having been in the entertainment industry for so long, I had learned to mask all my emotions. I smiled warmly, but my words were uncompromising. I said: “Leo, you could have had someone take her to a hotel, or transferred some money to her, instead of bringing her back to your private residence, letting her shower and wear your clothes, and then parading it in front of me.” “This is the first time, so I’ll forgive you.” “I expect you to know your boundaries.” As soon as I finished speaking, Chloe walked out of the bedroom. Seeing the tense atmosphere between us, she froze, and then I saw the corners of her mouth twitch upward involuntarily. But in an instant, she suppressed her expression, walked over submissively, and said quietly, “Sister, I’m packed. We can go.” I turned to grab my car keys. As I reached the door, as if just remembering, I turned back to Leo and said, “By the way, I won’t be coming here anymore. You know about my severe OCD. Please just throw away everything I left here.” 04 After settling Chloe into a hotel, I flew to Milan on a business trip. Another artist under my management had a major runway show in Milan. I had to be there in person to ensure everything went smoothly. By the time I finished up in Milan and returned, it was already a week later. Leo came to the airport to pick me up. Only when I was back in the country did I allow myself to show my exhaustion. I rubbed my temples, and Leo glanced at me, asking, “Did everything go well?” Hearing this, I laughed and looked back at him, “Have I ever messed anything up?” He laughed too, turned the steering wheel, and said, “That’s true, there’s nothing you can’t handle.” He paused, then casually said, “By the way, you mentioned you wouldn’t be going back to that apartment, so I moved to a complex in the Financial District. I bought new replacements for all your things exactly as they were.” I gave a noncommittal “hmm,” and his voice lowered as he said, “Harper, I’m sorry.” I looked up at him, smiled, and said, “It’s fine. I forgive first offenses, but I won’t be so lenient next time.” He smiled too, saying, “There won’t be a next time. I’ll truly cherish this chance you’ve given me.” I didn’t say anything. Leo and I are both smart people. I have an easygoing personality. I don’t forcefully interfere too much with my boyfriend’s boundaries with other women because I always believe that self-awareness is something you either have or you don’t. It can’t be demanded. Things like this, you only need to point them out once. I would only point it out once. Since his debut, Leo has had his fair share of co-stars and female celebrities secretly flirting with him. He always handled it well. Adult love is brought together by fate. If his heart is with you, you don’t need to control him; if his heart isn’t with you, what’s the point of watching his every move? So I always let things be. Later, Leo gave me a brief update on his situation with Chloe, and I considered the matter closed. Until Leo and Chloe started trending. During that time, I had secured a role for Leo in a period drama. After he joined the cast, I was busy with other things, but perhaps I overworked myself, and I suddenly fell ill. The flu symptoms hit me hard and fast. I was dizzy and feverish, feeling like a mountain had collapsed on me. My colleagues sent me home and forced me to rest. I was indeed exhausted, so I turned off my phone, drew the curtains, and slept soundly for an entire day. When I woke up, it was past 8:00 PM. I turned off airplane mode and immediately felt something was wrong. Because there were many missed calls on my phone. Opening my messages, the latest one was from the company’s PR team. She said, “Harper, are you awake? Something happened, check the trending topics.” I opened Twitter, and the number one trending topic was a shocking, red “HOT”. It was Leo and Chloe. 05 The video of them grocery shopping last time was intercepted by me, but this time, the media was clearly out for blood. They didn’t even come to negotiate a price; they just released it directly. The background was the set where Leo was filming. Because it was a period drama, the background had an antique feel. The video was a bit shaky. As soon as I opened it, my heart sank because it clearly showed Leo and Chloe’s faces. This time, there was no way to deny it. In the video, Chloe was skipping and gesturing animatedly beside Leo. Although Leo didn’t show much movement or expression, you could tell he was keeping an eye on the path ahead of her. Until Chloe accidentally twisted her ankle. Leo crouched in front of her, bending down to squeeze her ankle. Chloe tried to walk a bit, then looked up at Leo. Even from a distance, you could see her pouting in grievance. I don’t know what she said, but Leo paused, then swept her up into his arms. The video abruptly ended there, followed by some candid photos of them eating late-night snacks on set. Anyway, there were plenty of scenes of the two interacting. My head started buzzing again. Although I was dizzy, my thoughts were exceptionally clear. I called the PR team. Because of my illness, my voice was hoarse. I was concise: “Respond. The photos and videos are easy to explain. Just say Chloe is a newly hired assistant. Take the opportunity to hype up Leo’s gentle, polite, and friendly attitude towards staff. Compile stories of his past interactions with staff, blast them out through influencer accounts, and get the bot army ready.” The PR team quickly went to execute the plan. I put down my phone and saw numerous probing messages from media outlets on WhatsApp. Frowning, I gave them watertight, non-committal replies. Unknowingly, two hours passed. A PR crisis is easy to handle. As long as there are no explicit photos of them kissing, you can spin black into white. At the top of my chat list were messages from Leo, as well as his missed calls. I didn’t reply. I was thinking. I tapped my finger on the screen, hovering over Leo’s profile picture, pondering how I should handle my relationship with him. Just then, I received another call. It was from the property management of Leo’s previous residence. Because Leo rarely stayed in LA, I handled the property management, utilities, and things like that for him. The person on the other end was very polite, asking me: “Ms. Quinn, your car is parked in someone else’s spot, and the owner just came back from out of town. I’m calling to ask if it’s convenient for you to come and move it.” I was stunned for a moment. But within moments, I realized what was going on. I said, “I’m sorry, I’ll be right there.” Since Chloe came over that last time, I hadn’t been back to Leo’s apartment. I went to the complex and saw the car parked in someone else’s spot. It was Leo’s car, though he hadn’t driven it in a long time. I didn’t have the keys, but looking through the windshield, I could see cute stuffed animals and decorations. It was obvious whose taste it was. He had let Chloe drive this car. I laughed, turning to the property manager beside me: “I don’t need this car anymore. Call a tow truck and have it hauled away.” Then I went upstairs to the 32nd floor. Approaching that familiar yet strange door, I entered my birthday on the keypad. After two beeps, it displayed “Incorrect Password.” I paused, then entered 0712. This was Chloe’s birthday. As for why I knew her birthday, it’s because during high school, every July 12th, Leo would go to a bakery near our homes to buy Chloe a strawberry cake. His focused gaze as he carefully selected the cake made him look incredibly handsome and devoted. At that time, I would sit behind the counter, doing practice problems while looking at his face, unable to help but think: Chloe Sterling, what a lucky girl. I don’t know if that deep-seated envy sparked my inexplicable obsession with Leo. So, when I saw him again years later, I still wanted him. The smart lock beeped and opened. I pushed the door open, but only stood in the entryway and glanced inside. It was enough. Leo had let Chloe live here. She probably wasn’t much for cleaning, so traces of her life were scattered everywhere. When Leo bought this place, because he was busy filming, I had overseen the renovations for him, little by little. I looked around and saw Leo’s jacket draped carelessly on the sofa, mixed with Chloe’s clothes. It gave off an ambiguous, cozy domestic vibe. I have a cool, easygoing personality and rarely get angry because, in my view, all problems can be solved. If there’s a solution, then useless emotions are unnecessary. But this was the first time I felt nauseous and disgusted. I can control my emotions, but I can’t control the most visceral physiological reactions. I wanted to throw up. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and waited for the discomfort to pass before I expressionlessly closed the door. Then, I booked a flight to the city where Leo was filming. 06 By the time I landed, it was already afternoon. Leo was filming. The people on set were very familiar with me and greeted me politely. I smiled and nodded, until the assistant director came over. We were old acquaintances. In the entertainment industry, resources and connections are everything. We exchanged pleasantries, and then he discreetly asked: “Harper, tell me the truth. Who is that girl trending with Leo? She’s been hanging around the set every day lately. I can tell Leo’s attitude towards her isn’t ordinary.” I smiled, deflecting vaguely, “She’s just a personal assistant.” The assistant director smiled at me, saying, “I thought so. I don’t mean to say the girl is bad, she’s just a bit shallow. I’d like to think Leo wouldn’t have such poor taste.” I smiled and followed his lead to Leo’s RV. I paused as I opened the door. An open bag of chips, half a glass of juice, and Chloe’s pink jacket draped over the back of a chair. I didn’t go in. I walked around to the other side. Leo’s own assistant was crouching on the ground, head down, playing a game. I called him in my usual warm tone, “Tommy.” He jerked his head up, saw me, and jumped. He immediately turned off his phone screen, stood up, and called out, “Harper.” I smiled and told him, “Go tell Leo to come find me after he finishes this scene. I have something to discuss with him.” He said “okay” and ran off with his phone, moving so fast it looked like he was rushing to warn him. Someone brought over a lounge chair. I was indeed a bit tired, so I lay down and dozed off for a bit. Unknowingly, I fell asleep. When I woke up, Leo was sitting next to me, and I was covered with one of his jackets. I frowned slightly, removed the jacket, pulled out a wet wipe from the side, and wiped my hands. As soon as I moved, Leo turned around. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes followed the wet wipe from his jacket, which I had tossed aside, to my hands. He paused, and I saw his face slightly change color. I didn’t speak until I had meticulously wiped my hands before looking at him. My gaze moved past his face to look behind him as I asked, “Where is Chloe?” He didn’t explain or defend himself, he just said, “Harper, I had no choice.” It was an out-of-the-blue statement, but I understood. He had no choice. Chloe was his first love, frozen in his youthful memories. She was the person he sacrificed his future to protect in high school… He couldn’t let her go, couldn’t ignore her, couldn’t harden his heart against her… Tsk, this deep devotion is truly moving. I started laughing, showing no emotion as I pulled a contract out of my bag and handed it to Leo. He took it, looked at it, and looked somewhat surprised. It was an employment contract for Chloe. I said, “The PR statement has already gone out. Since we said Chloe is your new ‘personal assistant,’ we can’t let people find out she’s not. Have her come over and sign the contract. Besides, you’re short a personal assistant anyway. Since you and Chloe are so close and know each other well, it works out perfectly.” “I’ll deduct her salary from your card. You decide how much to pay her.” Leo was stunned, probably not expecting me to be so accommodating. Seeing his expression, I laughed, polite but with just the right amount of joking to not seem overly distant. I said, “Why are you looking at me like that? What did you think I came here to do? Play the wicked witch breaking up the happy couple, or mark my territory?” He frowned, looking at me searchingly, trying to discern my true emotions from my expression and tone. If my emotions could be read that easily, I wouldn’t be where I am today. Besides, what’s the big deal? Isn’t it just my man reconnecting with his first love behind my back? There are plenty of men out there. I’ll dump him and find another one. Leo could still help me make money, so I could discard him emotionally, but his surplus value was still useful to me. No one holds a grudge against money. I told him, “Leo, we are a partnership, we’re in the same boat. Helping you solve problems is helping myself solve problems.” “The reason I personally came to bring this contract to you is just to inform you. You know I have severe OCD, right?” Leo’s face suddenly went pale. He understood. Everything in his room that Chloe had touched, I had thrown away, not to mention him. I threw those things away, and now I was throwing him away too. From now on, we would have a purely professional manager-artist relationship. I would help him handle these issues simply out of my professional duty. And a breakup, at the very least, should be done face-to-face. A rare look of bewilderment appeared on his face. Over the years, he had grown accustomed to relying on me. All he had to do was act; I handled all his other affairs. He wouldn’t have that anymore. For a split second, his expression went blank. Subconsciously, he took a step toward me and reached out, a gesture of holding onto me and begging me to stay. He said, “Harper—” Before I could even step back, an angry voice came from behind, “Harper Quinn, what are you doing—” I couldn’t help but laugh. Chloe rushed over like a mother hen protecting her chicks, opening her arms to stand in front of Leo, her face full of self-righteous indignation. Well, this is very soap opera. She stuck her neck out, glaring at me, and said, “Harper Quinn, I ran over here on my own. It has nothing to do with Leo. If you have a problem, take it out on me.” I couldn’t be bothered with her. I shifted my gaze from her face to Leo’s, saying lightly, “Have her sign the contract and send it back to the company. I’ll have Alexia and your assistant handle things from now on.” I gave him a polite nod, maintaining a final shred of dignity, and said, “I’m leaving.” 07 I handed Leo’s affairs over to Alexia. I had personally trained her. For the past year, I had rarely managed artists directly. I had transitioned from management to the corporate side. Except for a few close confidants, not many people knew I now held a 35% stake in the current talent agency. In other words, aside from the big boss, I was practically the second-in-command behind the scenes. As for me, I know when to pick things up and when to let them go. When I said I was letting Leo go, I let him go—mainly because I was too busy. I had so much to do. Romance probably didn’t even account for 5% of my life. His betrayal was to me like catching a cold; I’d sleep it off and be fine. After returning from Leo’s set, I went abroad for meetings with the boss and shareholders to report on the financials. Our company’s net profit was miles ahead of other domestic talent agencies, so after the meetings, we took a short vacation abroad. I had already delegated all my artist-related duties. From that meeting onwards, I would be dealing solely with corporate strategy. During that time, I received messages from Leo. He had probably finished filming and gone back. He sent me a photo of his home looking utterly destroyed. He asked me, “Harper, did you hire someone to smash this place up?” Oh, right. That home Leo had, the one I had poured my heart into decorating piece by piece, I had someone tear it all down. If Chloe wanted to live there, he could redecorate it himself. But that had nothing to do with me anymore. I opened the photo of the wreckage, looked at it, then let out a scoff and didn’t reply. Later, he sent me a few more messages, obviously just making small talk. They weren’t important, so I ignored them all. By the time I leisurely returned to the country, a month had passed. I’m someone who clearly separates my personal life from my professional life. The day after landing, I called all the managers for a meeting. We had worked together for a long time, and everyone knew my rhythm, so it went smoothly. However, after the meeting ended, Alexia lingered in her seat, looking hesitant to speak. I raised an eyebrow in surprise and asked, “Something wrong?” She hesitated for a moment before saying, “It’s about Leo.” I closed the file folder and adopted a listening posture. Alexia paused, then said, “Harper, I’ve dealt with the media a few times over this past month. You know about Leo and his ‘personal assistant,’ right? I don’t know if it’s coincidence or intentional, but the media keeps getting paparazzi shots of them.” “Nothing scandalous, but it’s already crossed the line of normal friendship.” Alexia started off calm, but as she spoke, her tone turned complaining, and she sighed, “Given Leo’s status, I can’t be too harsh on him. But lately, the admins of his fan clubs have been getting restless and dissatisfied. They’ve been coming to me asking what’s going on. And you know Leo and Chloe are childhood friends; the media can definitely dig that up even if we try to suppress it. We can still manage to keep a lid on it for now.” She looked miserable, “But Harper, we really can’t suppress it for much longer. Something’s going to happen sooner or later, and it won’t be a small issue.” I looked out the window, my tone neutral, “Didn’t we recently sign a batch of new artists? Bundle them with Leo and have him mentor them.” “We need to push the new artists up as quickly as possible. Leo has been the top guy for too long; he’s forgotten how he climbed up there.” Leo’s schedule was packed. The company had signed several new artists, and I had Leo bring them on screen. He took them on variety shows, live streams, and of course, when acting in TV dramas, he’d bring a few along. The new artists quickly gained public favor, though I occasionally got dragged on Twitter by his fans for “leeching off Leo’s success.” Looking at the engagement numbers, I decisively had the bot army pose as newbies in the discussion threads, humbly promoting the new artists. The next time I received a message from Leo, it was a photo of him getting an IV drip, with no text. I didn’t know if this was a show of weakness to get me to visit him, or a protest against the packed schedule the company had given him. I thought about it, then sent him a red envelope with a get-well message. Later, I saw a photo on a friend’s social media feed. People from the company had gone to visit Leo. The focus of the photo was naturally Leo, with everyone standing or sitting in chairs next to him. But only Chloe sat by his hospital bed, one hand resting on his shoulder, her face pressed close to him, looking very intimate. Like she was the lady of the house. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

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When the company decided to cut costs and increase efficiency, they laid me off—despite my seven years of relentless dedication. On the day we negotiated my termination, HR demanded I pack my things and leave immediately, revoking all my system permissions on the spot. Believing in seeing things through to the end, I requested a proper handover, but was flatly denied. My manager mocked me behind my back: “She’s just a code monkey. She really thinks she’s irreplaceable.” Later, when the company’s entire system crashed, they blew up my phone, begging me to come back and help. But by then, I had already landed a secure government job. “Sorry,” I replied. “Federal employees aren’t allowed to take freelance gigs.” 1 After lunch, I had just returned to my desk when I received a message from HR: [Harper, are you free right now? Conference Room 13F-1011. Can we have a quick chat?] My heart sank. I immediately felt a sense of impending doom. In the tech world, a message like this usually means you’re getting laid off. Was today finally my turn? Even though I had a feeling this was coming, my mind was anything but calm when the moment actually arrived. Our company was a mid-sized tech startup. I joined right after college. Over the past seven years, I watched the company grow from a tiny operation with a dozen people into a leader in our specific niche. Our growth eventually caught the eye of a massive Private Equity (PE) firm. They threw their weight around and bought a 75% controlling stake. The original founder happily cashed out, relinquished control, and moved to Europe to live out his days on a vineyard. The PE firm immediately parachuted in a swarm of their own management. The heads of every department, and even every small team, were replaced by their corporate cronies. During the first two months of the transition, the company’s veteran engineers resigned in droves. The only ones left were the foundational, ground-level employees. The organizational structure underwent a massive earthquake. By pure luck, I managed to survive the initial purge. The original Operations, Information Security, and Tech Support departments were merged into one new division. I was the Lead Systems Administrator. My superiors and subordinates were gradually laid off, leaving me as a one-woman army. The maintenance of the entire company’s business systems fell squarely on my shoulders. I was so exhausted I could barely breathe, working unpaid overtime until midnight every single day. Why didn’t I just quit? Because I was a woman approaching thirty, unmarried, and childless. We were in the middle of a brutal “tech winter,” and jobs were scarce. I had to endure it for as long as I could. Before the PE firm took over, the company culture had been great. Relationships were simple; everyone just focused on doing their jobs well without needing to kiss up to management. But after the buyout, the new executives launched a series of “reforms.” The workload intensified. Our standard five-day workweek morphed into grueling 80-hour grinds. Overtime became the mandatory norm. My current manager, Richard Sterling, was one of the PE firm’s guys. He had a background in marketing, used to work at a FAANG company, and loved nothing more than hearing himself talk in meetings. He always started his sentences with, “When I was at my previous firm…” He was obsessed with corporate flattery and addicted to making flashy, utterly useless slide decks. He demanded that all his subordinates submit their daily, weekly, and monthly reports via PowerPoint. Coming from a strictly technical background, I found this absurd. Every time I gritted my teeth and filled his templates with raw system data, Richard would criticize my presentations for “lacking soul and synergy.” I honestly had no idea what a “soulful” server report was supposed to look like. Because I didn’t kiss the ground he walked on, he started resenting me. He actively sought ways to embarrass me professionally. Last month, he demanded I give him a detailed presentation of my daily workflow. I complied. But since he wasn’t a technical guy, he couldn’t understand even the most basic terminology I used during my breakdown. He ended up thoroughly confused, which embarrassed him in front of the team. Furious, he accused me of disrespecting him. From then on, his bias against me deepened, and he nitpicked everything I did. 2 [We are already in the room. Come here right now!] Looking at the impatient message from HR, I took a deep breath, pulled a small digital voice recorder from my bag, and hid it in my pocket. When I walked into the designated conference room, the HR Director and Richard were already waiting. HR gestured for me to hand over my phone: “Since the contents of this discussion are highly confidential and cannot be leaked, we need you to surrender your phone.” After I handed it over, she cut straight to the chase: “I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors. The company is facing financial difficulties and is optimizing its workforce. You are part of this optimization.” “And what exactly are your criteria for layoffs?” I asked. She pulled out a spreadsheet and flipped through it. “Performance metrics, naturally. Your most recent performance review was a C-minus. It’s unsatisfactory. It shows you are no longer capable of fulfilling the duties of your role.” I let out a bitter laugh. “I am a Systems Administrator. My primary responsibility is maintaining the stability of our servers and networks. During my tenure, has the system ever crashed because of me? I actively coordinate with the R&D and deployment teams every single day. On what grounds am I ‘incapable’?” My position was truly the most thankless job in the company. If you do it perfectly and the system remains stable, no one notices or praises you. But the second a system crashes, the sysadmin is the first one thrown under the bus. Since the PE firm had taken over six months ago, the systems had run flawlessly without a single outage. I hadn’t made a single error. Knowing they lacked grounds to fire me for cause, Richard chimed in: “We believe your workload is incredibly basic. An entry-level tech could do it. Your title is Lead Admin, but if you’re willing to take a 50% pay cut and accept a demotion to IT Support Specialist, we might let you stay.” I argued back fiercely. “The previous operations team had seven engineers. Now it’s just me. I am doing the work of an entire department, grinding until midnight every day. I hardly think my current salary is too high.” “Your previous team was bloated and highly inefficient. That’s exactly why the company had to be acquired. We are trimming the fat so we can move agilely and scale rapidly.” Richard harshly criticized the old company structure. “The work you’re doing right now? I could hire a junior grad to do it. Take the pay cut and stay, or pack your bags and leave.” “I refuse to take a pay cut, and I refuse to quit.” “That’s not up to you.” Richard sneered and signaled to HR. “Revoke all of her system permissions immediately. Let’s see how long she lasts.” He was finally showing his true colors. 3 HR and Richard exchanged a glance. “That is highly regrettable, Harper,” HR said. “Since you refuse the demotion, we have no choice but to terminate your employment.” “Regarding your severance, our standard policy is to offer a basic package based on your years of service. You’ve been here for seven years, so we will offer you seven weeks of severance pay.” “I’ve worked here for seven years with zero infractions,” I stated coldly. “If the company is terminating my contract without cause, I am legally entitled to a much larger severance package, plus penalty pay for lack of notice. I expect a minimum of fifteen months’ salary.” Previously, this HR Director had bullied other employees. She offered the bare minimum, and many employees, afraid of a bad reference for their next job, swallowed their pride and accepted it. Only a few stubborn veterans fought back, filed complaints with the Labor Board, and took it to court. In the end, the company always caved and paid out the maximum legal penalties. I had always been quiet and agreeable at work, which is why she assumed I’d be an easy target. Naturally, she only wanted to offer me the absolute minimum. Richard scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain. “You really have some nerve asking for that much. What kind of startup pays out a fifteen-month severance package?” HR smiled, softening her tone to play the good cop. “Harper, how about this? We can bump it up to eight weeks. Our standard is seven, but giving you an extra week is already a massive favor.” I didn’t say a word. Though I was usually quiet, I wasn’t blind. Before the veteran engineers left, they warned me about the company’s dirty tactics. I was mentally prepared for this. “You need to think about your career trajectory. I’d prefer we part on good terms without making a scene.” She leaned forward. “You’re going to need to find another job, right? Every tech company does background checks. If you don’t cooperate now, we won’t be giving you a positive reference.” “Furthermore, the HR community in the Bay Area is a very small circle. If I put you on our industry blacklist, you won’t be getting hired by any reputable tech firm ever again.” This HR Director’s name was Brenda Mercer. Rumor had it she was specifically hired by the new investors to execute mass layoffs. She was ruthless. People called her the “Corporate Grim Reaper.” She once hired a thousand people in a month, only to lay them all off a week later just to hit an absurd quota. But it didn’t matter. She had just run into a brick wall. “After I quit, I plan on taking a long break. My family owns a large farm in the Midwest. I’m going back to help them. I have no intention of looking for another corporate job anytime soon.” “If you refuse to compensate me according to labor laws, I am more than happy to spend my free time taking you to court. I’ve worked here for seven years without a real vacation. While the lawsuit drags on, I’ll travel, read books, and do whatever I want.” “I have the time, and I have the financial backing from my family. I’m single and childless. I don’t have mouths to feed.” I spoke lightly, but seeing that I was immune to both their threats and their bribes, Richard and Brenda’s faces turned green. 4 Brenda let out a dry, forced laugh. “I’ve seen plenty of young people like you. Especially transplants who moved to the city with no safety net. You all act tough at first, but in the end, you always end up calling us, begging for a good background reference.” “Save your breath. I don’t agree to your terms, and I won’t be begging you for anything.” “Then I must ask you to leave the premises immediately.” Brenda’s face darkened. Her reputation preceded her, and having lost face in front of me today, she finally dropped her professional facade. “If you want me to leave, fine. Give me a formal notice of termination and my employment verification letter.” “Draft the notice right now and get her out of here!” Richard’s patience was gone. His face was a mask of cold fury. “I’ll have the paperwork for you this afternoon. For now, go back to your desk and pack up your personal belongings.” When I got back to my desk, my laptop was already locked. I had been booted from all internal Slack channels and company apps. Even my keycard was deactivated. Kevin O’Connor, a buddy of mine from IT Asset Management, sent me a discreet text: [Harper, I’m so sorry. HR just emailed me demanding I freeze all your accounts and permissions immediately.] I replied with a helpless emoji: [It’s fine. We’re all just cogs in the machine. I understand.] About ten minutes later, Brenda marched over and handed me the termination notice and employment verification letter. The reason for termination stated on the letter read: [Terminated due to insufficient competency for the current role.] What was even more amusing was that the letter actually bore Brenda’s personal signature. She was clearly far too confident in her own authority. I sneered, didn’t argue, and silently shoved the two pieces of paper into my bag. Three burly security guards trailed closely behind Brenda. “Have you packed all your personal items? You can leave the building now.” The guards stepped forward in unison, standing right in front of me. I felt like I was surrounded by three brick walls. They looked ready to physically carry me out if I refused to walk. Deploying three massive bouncers for one average-sized woman? I had to thank them for thinking so highly of my combat skills. “Are you absolutely sure you don’t need a formal handover?” Out of pure professional courtesy, I offered one last warning. Richard scoffed loudly. “The work you do? I can hire literally anyone off the street to do it. Stop stalling and get out!” “Alright then. Please sign this handover checklist so you don’t bother me with questions later.” I didn’t care about his insults. I handed the checklist to Richard, who arrogantly grabbed a pen and scribbled his signature across the bottom. “You’re just a code monkey. Anyone can replace you. You really thought the company couldn’t survive without you?” I smiled, said nothing, picked up my cardboard box, and walked out the door. 5 Once I got home, I immediately started researching employment attorneys and wrongful termination lawsuits. I firmly believe that professional matters should be handled by professionals. I wasn’t the most social person, so I didn’t know many lawyers personally. I was afraid of hiring someone incompetent if I just Googled it. Luckily, my best friend Emma was an executive recruiter with a massive network. When she heard I needed a lawyer, she connected me that very night with Attorney Marcus Thorne, a specialist in labor disputes and corporate lawsuits. The next day, following Mr. Thorne’s instructions, I gathered all my evidence, made copies of the hidden voice recording from the HR meeting, and went to his firm. He was highly professional. He took down the company’s details and reviewed the documents I provided. Mr. Thorne praised my meticulous record-keeping. With the evidence I had, he assured me our chances of winning were incredibly high. After signing a retainer agreement, he informed me he would immediately file the lawsuit on my behalf. On my way home from the law firm, Kevin texted me some office gossip: [Harper, Richard is interviewing your replacements today. He blew through a dozen candidates. A few of them literally cursed him out and walked out mid-interview. I heard he’s trying to lowball the salary to an insane degree.] Reading Kevin’s message, I felt nothing. The company had fallen into a toxic, bizarre culture. The people who did no actual work—the ones who spent their days making slide decks, holding meetings, and talking in corporate buzzwords—were pulling in massive six-figure salaries. Meanwhile, those of us doing the actual heavy lifting were treated like disposable pack mules. They dumped the workload of an entire team onto one person, refused to pay a dime extra, and ruthlessly slashed our benefits. The afternoon catered lunches? Canceled. The breakroom coffee and snacks? Gone. Only tap water remained. [My guess is he’s going to hire a fresh college grad,] I replied. Previously, Richard had casually mentioned to me how cheap new grads were—young, full of energy, and easy to exploit. Exactly as I predicted, Kevin texted me a few days later: [Harper, you called it! The new guy started today. When he came to pick up his laptop, we chatted for a bit. He just graduated this year. He doesn’t even have a computer science degree! He took a three-month coding bootcamp. Aside from an internship, this is his first real tech job.] Richard wasn’t a technical guy, so it made sense he didn’t value technical expertise. But the fact that he hired a bootcamp grad with zero real experience to run the entire backend… I could only wish him luck. That same day, a new friend request popped up on my Discord: [Hi Harper, I’m Tyler Brooks. I just joined the company. I have some questions for you.] I didn’t even need to think about it. He was messaging me about the systems. I hit “Ignore.” The whole reason I made Richard sign that handover checklist was to prevent them from bothering me later. 6 The legal process, from filing the complaint to scheduling mediation, usually takes a few weeks. During that time, I treated myself to a long-overdue vacation, exploring everything the city had to offer. After I ignored Tyler’s friend request, Richard called my cell phone. “Harper, I told Tyler to add you on Discord. Why did you decline the request?” “Why should I accept it?!” “What is with your attitude? Tyler said you didn’t leave any of the admin passwords! How is he supposed to take over your work?!” “Excuse me? It’s not like I took the passwords with me. What was I supposed to hand over? You guys literally locked me out of my computer the second I stepped out of the meeting!” “Then you need to tell us where they are stored!” Richard clearly hadn’t grasped the fact that he was no longer my boss. He still spoke to me with that same aggressive, demanding tone. “My memory isn’t what it used to be. No comment!” All the crucial passwords and server credentials were stored locally on my work laptop. Richard wasn’t entirely brain-dead. After I was fired, he ordered IT to back up the contents of my hard drive. However, the file containing the master credentials was buried deep in a labyrinth of directories, and I had encrypted it. If they found it, good for them. If they couldn’t, well, tough luck. After all, I had successfully “handed over” my responsibilities. “So you’re refusing to cooperate?” He raised his voice. I could perfectly picture his face turning purple with rage. “What are you going to do about it? Call the cops?” “You—!” Before he could finish his threat, I hung up the phone. A massive wave of satisfaction washed over me. My phone buzzed. It was Kevin: [Harper, Richard is absolutely panicking. The product team needs to push an upgrade, and they’re completely bottlenecked at Operations. Tyler doesn’t have the authorization to execute the deployment.] Knowing that Richard would likely keep harassing me for the next few days, I proactively blocked his number. 7 Our first mediation session arrived. Richard and Brenda both attended on behalf of the company. Their offer was standard: eight weeks of severance pay, plus an additional four weeks’ pay labeled as a “consultation/handover fee.” Richard had finally realized that without my handover, the company genuinely couldn’t function. Critical product updates were failing to deploy to the production environment, and the pressure was mounting entirely on him. As the head of Operations, he was the one taking the heat. Attorney Thorne rejected their offer on the spot and presented our demands: Fifteen months of severance pay for wrongful termination and breach of contract, plus penalty pay for unpaid overtime over the last six months, and compensation for all my unused PTO. The standard legal workweek is 40 hours. Over the past six months, I had routinely worked over 80 hours a week. My total unpaid overtime exceeded 1,200 hours. Before I was locked out, I had quietly exported and saved all my digital timesheets and login logs. Before Mr. Thorne could even finish speaking, Richard rudely interrupted him. “You want overtime pay?! That’s just proof that she’s highly inefficient!” Since all pretenses were dropped, I wasn’t going to hold back anymore: “I suggest you look up the standard engineer-to-server ratio at any functional tech company before you open your mouth. But of course, you don’t understand tech. You know absolutely nothing about operations, yet you had the sheer audacity to play manager.” “Tell me, as the head of Operations, Support, and Security, what exactly have you contributed? Do you even understand what our team does? Can you read a single line of code?” “You don’t know sh*t. All you do is kiss up to the executives and make slide decks. With a fraud like you in charge, the company is doomed to fail!” Richard never expected the usually quiet Harper to curse him out so aggressively. He froze for a second, his face flushing violently red. He slammed his hand onto the mediation table: “Harper, who the hell do you think you’re talking to?!” I threw gasoline on the fire. I raised an eyebrow, looking at him with a mocking smirk. “Aww, is the little manager throwing a tantrum? If I’m wrong, prove it. Write a brilliant script right now and prove me wrong.” Driven over the edge, he lunged across the table to hit me but was quickly restrained by the mediators. I deliberately leaned closer, gently tapping my own cheek. “Oh? You want to hit me? Do it. Hit me. If you don’t, you’re a coward.” I have to admit, I was being incredibly petty, but infuriating him felt so good. Seeing that negotiations had completely broken down, the mediators called an end to the session and instructed us to proceed to a formal lawsuit. 8 The very next day, Attorney Thorne filed the lawsuit in civil court. I originally thought this would be a long, drawn-out legal battle, but surprisingly, Richard’s side waved the white flag first. Kevin told me earlier that the pressure on Richard had reached a boiling point. The other department heads were breathing down his neck to fix the deployment pipeline. He was a crony brought in by the new VP, David Caldwell. While he had executive protection, even that couldn’t save him from being interrogated daily by angry directors. Meanwhile, Tyler—the guy who replaced me—couldn’t handle the stress and had already threatened to quit. Richard was in a complete panic, trying to beg Tyler to stay while absorbing the fury of the entire engineering department. Richard had no choice but to beg the company’s legal team to contact Attorney Thorne to arrange another settlement negotiation. When Mr. Thorne called to ask when I was available, I was lounging on a beach out of state. They were the ones desperate, not me. I thought about it and said: “Let’s schedule it for next month.” “I’m enjoying my vacation. I should be back sometime next month.” That same day, I received a call from Richard. He was using a burner phone. “Harper, you think you’re so smart, don’t you?” “You did this on purpose! I should have fired a toxic bitch like you ages ago! Everything you’ve done has pissed off the entire executive board. We’re going to publicize your behavior. You’ll never work in tech again!” Backed into a corner, he still refused to show a shred of respect, barking insults the second the call connected. “Sounds great. Knock yourself out. Bye.” Just as I was about to hang up, I heard him roar through the speaker: “Harper, you better watch your back!” After hanging up on Richard, Brenda called. She used a mix of threats and sweet talk, promising that if I just came back to do a proper handover, everything could be smoothed over. “You’re still young. Burning bridges with a major company won’t do you any good. If you just log on and hand over the credentials, we can renegotiate your severance package.” “Then you will compensate me exactly according to the terms Attorney Thorne laid out during the mediation.” Brenda went silent. In the background, I clearly heard Richard’s voice: “Forget it. Just agree to it. We need to fix the servers first.” After a brief pause, Brenda agreed. Having achieved my goal, I decided not to push my luck. After consulting with Mr. Thorne, we scheduled the negotiation for the following week. They wanted it done immediately, but I was out of state and wasn’t going to rush back for them. They had no choice but to grit their teeth and wait. At the settlement table, Richard and Brenda had lost all their previous arrogance. Faced with Mr. Thorne’s demands—fifteen months of severance, compensation for unpaid overtime, unused PTO, and even coverage of my legal fees—they folded. The company wired me nearly a million dollars on the spot. I agreed to provide one day of online consultation for a fee of $10,000. Any future consultations would be billed at $3,000 per incident. My terms made Richard look like he was going to have an aneurysm, but he was forced to agree. Brenda was equally furious. Shaking her head, she sighed dramatically. “You young people… you really know how to destroy your own futures.” I smiled at her warmly. “That termination letter you gave me last time? I threw it in the trash. Could you be a dear and draft me a new one?” Even though she hated me enough to grind her teeth to dust, she was forced to issue me a brand new employment verification letter, changing the reason for termination to “Resigned for Personal Reasons.” Watching them swallow their pride—a far cry from the arrogant tyrants who had fired me—was incredibly satisfying. 9 That same day, they wired the $10,000 consultation fee to my account as agreed. I accepted Tyler’s friend request on Discord, answered his barrage of questions, and told him exactly where the passwords were and what critical pitfalls to avoid. Since I was being paid $10,000 for the day, I didn’t hide anything. The questions he asked were painfully basic. It was glaringly obvious he was a complete novice. He didn’t even know how to use standard Linux command-line tools, nor did he know any programming languages. As for advanced concepts like load balancing, high availability, or containerization—he had never even heard of them. He was utterly clueless. He actually asked me what a “Docker container” was and why it was called that. I massaged my temples in disbelief and typed back: [If you don’t know, Google it.] It made me seriously question whether he was an IT admin or just a random guy who had wandered in off the street. Richard’s hiring process was an absolute joke. But it wasn’t my problem anymore. If things broke in the future, it was on them. A few days later, Tyler suddenly messaged me on Discord with a ridiculously simple question. It was the kind of thing you could solve with a five-second Google search, and the company hadn’t paid my $3,000 consultation fee. So I ignored him. He immediately started aggressively spamming me: [You there? I asked you a question.] [Ignoring me? Are you dead?] [Stop playing games, bitch! Get your ass over here and answer me!] [Oh, I get it. You just want money, right? When you die, I’ll make sure to burn some extra cash at your grave.] I had to admit, Richard had a real talent for hiring people exactly like himself. Tyler’s temper and character were a mirror image of his boss’s. Staring at his unhinged messages, I smirked and slowly typed a single string of characters into the chat: sudo rm -rf /*

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