Category: English

When the newly crowned A-list pop idol Cole Mercer wanted to hard launch his relationship, I begged him to think of his career. He agreed. But his non-celebrity girlfriend left a suicide note and vanished forever. The next day, Cole went on Twitter to accuse me of controlling his life. I was struck and killed by a car driven by his crazed stans. He smiled as he watched me take my last breath. “Does it hurt? The day she left, I hurt more than you.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day he said he wanted to go public. I didn’t stop him. I just watched coldly as he made his high-profile announcement and shot to the top of the trending charts. 1 Three minutes after Cole’s post went live, our talent agency exploded. Phones were ringing off the hook. The entire internet was demanding to know if the relationship was real. The CEO was furious. “He’s only 22! Does he want to ruin his career?! Is this girl some billionaire heiress worth throwing his future away for?” When he found out Cole’s girlfriend was just an ordinary girl, the CEO completely lost it. He cursed Cole for being a whipped idiot, and then he screamed at me for not stopping him. Actually, I had stopped him. And then I died. In my previous life, on the night Cole took home the “Artist of the Year” award at the Music Video Awards, he suddenly told me he wanted to go public. He said it was a promise he made to his girlfriend—that on the day he made it to the top, he would give her the official title she deserved. A pop idol going public during the peak of his career is career suicide. Not to mention, he was just about to kick off a massive arena tour. I urged him not to backstab his fans right after winning an award they voted for. I told him fans don’t spend thousands of dollars on him just to buy his condoms. He could give her the title in private; there was no need to broadcast it to the world. Ultimately, Cole agreed. But his girlfriend believed he had betrayed their love. She left a dramatic goodbye letter and vanished into thin air. Half a year later, the police found her body washed up by a riverbank. She had a three-month-old fetus in her womb. Cole went insane. Even though the police ruled it an accidental death following an emotional dispute, Cole stubbornly insisted that I had killed her and their unborn child. The next day, Cole posted a lengthy statement online, accusing me of manipulating his life. He claimed that from the day he debuted, I had restricted his personal freedom and forced him to do all the fan-service things he hated. He successfully redirected all the fans’ intense dissatisfaction onto my head. He even used a burner account to leak my home address to his most unhinged stalker-stans, inciting them to seek revenge. On the day I was run over by a car driven by his fans, his usually terrible acting skills reached their absolute peak. Crying on the outside, he leaned in close to my ear, his voice dripping with smug malice. “If you hadn’t stuck your nose where it didn’t belong, she wouldn’t have died. “You’re just my manager, not my mother. You don’t get to dictate my life. “You tried to use my fans to threaten me, and in the end, you died by their hands. “Watch and see. Even if I go public, those brain-dead fans will still throw their money at me to buy my condoms.” Is that so? If he really hard-launched his relationship, would his rabid fans buy him condoms, or would they buy knives? Last time, I didn’t get to see the answer. So this time, I wanted a front-row seat. 2 The CEO issued an ultimatum: fix this PR nightmare immediately. But Cole was dead set on his official announcement. He changed his social media passwords, turned off his phone, and completely dropped off the grid. Under the CEO’s barrage of insults, I voluntarily offered my resignation. The chaotic office fell dead silent for a second. Then, the CEO erupted again. “Your artist just blew a massive hole in this company, and you’re telling me you’re quitting?!” I scoffed coldly. In my past life, when Cole’s fans were organizing a witch hunt against me online, the company was the first to cut ties. They claimed I was just a temporary contractor, forcefully fired me without severance, and even had security beat up my elderly parents when they came to the headquarters to demand justice for me. I took off my company ID badge, my tone even. “I managed him for seven years. For seven years, I brought him up from an unknown trainee to the top. I never caused this company an ounce of trouble. He insisted on going public this time, and my hands are tied. “If the PR department needs my help, I’ll actively cooperate. But as for Cole Mercer, from this day forward, he has absolutely nothing to do with me.” My absolute resolve shocked my colleagues. “But you spent years cultivating him! You finally made him an A-lister, how can you just walk away?” Everyone knew the blood, sweat, and tears I had poured into him. The irony was, the only person who didn’t see it was Cole himself. I stayed by his side for seven whole years. For seven years, I exhausted myself pushing him step by step from obscurity to the pinnacle of fame. He said he was afraid of the dark; I left the lights on and slept on the studio couch to keep him company. He said he had social anxiety; I drank until I was sick at networking dinners to secure sponsorships for him. He said he was bad with words; I wrote all his sweet, fan-pandering posts to solidify his fanbase. When he was about to go on tour, I meticulously supervised the audio engineers to cover up his atrocious live vocals. These were my professional duties, and I never asked for his gratitude. But in the end, it all became the very knife he used to stab me. The CEO snapped: “Let her go! She’s just a manager. I refuse to believe the company will collapse without her.” He was right. Nobody dies just because someone else leaves. The same went for me. Honestly, leaving Cole Mercer meant I was going to live a much better life. 3 Because Cole changed his passwords, the relationship announcement sat at the top of the trending charts for a whole day before the company finally managed to suppress it. In just 24 hours, his announcement post amassed hundreds of thousands of comments. Half of them were from his loyal stans, aggressively spamming emojis and copy-pasted blessings to drown out the hate. The other half was pure outrage and cursing. [I stayed up all night voting for you yesterday, and today you give me a sister-in-law? Am I crazy or are you?] [Why did you have to announce it? Couldn’t you date in secret? Did you have to shove it in our faces?] [I’ve spent over $30,000 on your merch and albums. I haven’t missed a single tour date. And you repay me with a girlfriend?] [I’ve spent over $100k! And he takes my money to fund his little romance. I’m gonna throw up!] [If you make a living off your fanbase, you serve the fans. Otherwise, quit being an idol.] [Turns out only the fans cared about your career. I want my three years back.] There were countless other comments too vulgar to even repeat. The comment section was quickly restricted, then shut down entirely. His fans were running themselves ragged in the fandom Discord and Reddit threads, desperately waiting for his explanation. But their precious idol was spending these few days taking his new girl on a luxury vacation. I handed over my work accounts, returned to my apartment which I hadn’t seen in ages, and scrolled through my personal phone while eating chips. A life without Cole Mercer was wonderfully quiet. It wasn’t until I saw a photo of him and his girlfriend hiking on his private Snapchat story that I remembered—early in his career, when I was terrified of missing an emergency text, I had added him on my personal account. After becoming an A-lister, Cole’s ego inflated so much he was practically floating. Posting a picture like this on his private story right now… was he trying to speed-run his own cancellation? In the photo, there was a new tattoo on his inner forearm. It was the letter “S”. I had seen that letter before. Back when Cole first won his debut survival show, a friend of mine who ran a major pop-culture gossip account told me she received a tip. It was an intimate photo of Cole with a girl, and the tipster’s handle had the letter “S” in it. I knew Cole’s girlfriend was named Sierra Knox. It had to be her. Out of professional habit, my brain instantly went into conspiracy-theory mode. I instinctively tapped on Cole’s profile, wanting to warn him to be careful of being used for clout. Thankfully, the moment I opened the chat, I caught myself. My hand slipped, and I accidentally double-tapped his profile icon, sending a notification. When I refreshed my feed, the photo was gone. He had probably blocked me. But I didn’t care. Whether he was truly in love or getting played, it had absolutely nothing to do with me anymore. 4 A few days later, the relationship announcement on Cole’s official Twitter was deleted. Thanks to the tireless efforts of his fans, his timeline and subreddits were once again a picture of peace and harmony. Any dissenting voices were immediately swarmed and attacked. You could only find the genuine outrage and mass-unfollowing if you searched his specific anti-fan nicknames. But I had protected him too well in the past. He didn’t even know what his own anti-names were. He genuinely believed his fans still supported him unconditionally. Normally, if this issue wasn’t brought up again, it would just fade away. The internet has a seven-second memory. Once the heat died down, they would make up some excuse to cover it up, and it would be history. As for the fans who unstanned him, after his arena tour finished, many would eventually come crawling back. But right when the company issued a statement claiming Cole’s account had been hacked and the relationship post was fake… At midnight, screenshots of Cole’s private Snapchat story suddenly leaked online. It was the exact photo grid of him and his girlfriend on vacation. The person who leaked the screenshot even thoughtfully blurred out the “S” tattoo on his arm. This was the first time I actually smiled seeing Cole hit the top of the negative trending charts. After years of frantically cleaning up his messes, I was thoroughly sick of it. As the public backlash rapidly escalated, the company’s “hacked” statement became a laughingstock. Those devoted fans who swore they believed he was single became an even bigger joke. Cole was getting ripped to shreds online. Even the paid bot farms couldn’t drown out the hate. The company tried to divert attention by dragging other male celebrities down, fabricating dating rumors about them. Cole, convinced I was the one who leaked the screenshot, called to scream at me. He called me toxic, jealous, and morally bankrupt, and threatened to have his fans cyberbully me. I told him I didn’t do it, but he refused to believe me. “I blocked everyone else from seeing that story except you! And you’re telling me you didn’t do it?!” I laughed. “You shot the arrow yourself. Whoever leaked it, you’re the one who has to take responsibility for your actions. As for who did it… take a wild guess.” He raged: “You just wait!” I ignored him, hung up, and blocked his number. Over the next few days, my personal phone number suddenly received a flood of unknown calls. Thinking they were friends, I instinctively answered. The moment I picked up, someone started demanding I issue a clarification for Cole’s relationship. I was stunned. Besides my close friends and family outside the industry, only Cole knew this number. He must have leaked it. The fan on the other end aggressively interrogated me. “Have you seen Cole’s negative trending topics? Why hasn’t the PR team suppressed the heat yet? Are you even his manager?!” I sighed and explained that I had already resigned. The fan got even more agitated: “He’s in the middle of a massive crisis, and you have the nerve to quit?!” If there were an Olympic eye-rolling competition, I would definitely win gold. Just as I was about to hang up, the voice on the other end demanded furiously: “Why can other people clarify their rumors, but you guys can’t?” “Clarify what?” “The relationship! Tons of male stars had dating rumors the past two days and they all clarified it.” I was speechless. “Because they aren’t actually dating.” “What kind of attitude is that? You don’t care at all, do you?! He’s about to kick off his fourth arena concert!” Me: “Is caring going to magically fix it?” “You just wait! I’ve recorded everything you said, and I’m going to report you to the agency!” 5 I went viral. Because of Cole. But it wasn’t because he posted a hit piece accusing me of controlling his life like in my last life. It was because… His mega-fan posted the recording of our phone call to Stan Twitter. At first, the fans in Cole’s community mass-attacked me, calling me irresponsible and threatening to dox me. But as they pushed the hashtag onto the trending page, more and more ordinary people clicked on the video. After listening to the whole conversation, instead of siding with the fans, the general public erupted in mockery. [I’m allergic to stupidity. This staff member has the patience of a saint.] [Joke of the year: ‘Why can they clarify?’ ‘Because they aren’t actually dating.’ Why can’t you guys clarify? Reading comprehension is key here.] [Why are you yelling at the staff? I feel like she was trying her best. Holding back laughter must have been tough.] [I thought the staff member was trying to trick the caller at first, but realizing this is a genuine fan is just embarrassing.] [I finally know what kind of people argue with me online.] [That fan’s family must have banged their heads against the wall praying to God for that level of delusion, hahahaha!] Having been a manager for years, I had anticipated this outcome. I just didn’t expect the other party to actually dare to expose it. Seeing the public narrative turn against them, Cole’s die-hard stans panicked and started trying to do damage control. [She’s not a Cole fan! She’s a hater in disguise trying to ruin him!] [No one actually believes this, right? It’s obviously a staged recording. They probably paid someone to act it out.] [Our boy is doing great. You all should focus on your own lives, you have way too much free time.] Of course, no one believed these excuses. It only made the onlookers mock the fans’ intelligence even more. And the mega-fan who originally leaked the call was immediately branded a “hater” and excommunicated by the fandom. That girl could never have imagined that the fans who initially supported her would turn into blades aimed at her throat in an instant. Her original intention was to fight for Cole’s rights, but she ended up as the target of internet-wide bullying. Under the immense pressure, she suffered a mental breakdown. She posted a long, emotional essay on Twitter, condemning the gossip accounts that stole her video, condemning the fans who turned on her, and crying about how she had loved Cole for six years only to be labeled a hater. The moment the post went live, she was mass-reported and her account was suspended, leaving behind only a blurry screenshot. Soon after, Cole’s agency released a statement claiming the phone recording was a fabricated stunt directed by anti-fans for clout, urging everyone to continue supporting Cole’s upcoming concert. This was met with cheers from the remaining fans. [Finally cleared his name! I only believe what he says!] And that mega-fan, now branded an anti, was drowned in an avalanche of online abuse, just like I was back then. No one spoke up for her. Of course, she brought it upon herself. But back then, in the eyes of the public, wasn’t I also seen as bringing it upon myself? Meanwhile, the person who threw us onto the roasting spit hid behind the scenes without saying a word. Well, not exactly without saying a word. Cole logged onto his secret burner account, furiously typing away, trashing the mega-fan for being useless and telling his fans to mind their own business. The bad news was: no one knew about this burner account. The good news was: I did. Karma comes for everyone eventually. I pulled up Cole’s burner account and screenshotted every single one of his tweets. Then I called my pop-culture insider friend. “I’ve got a scoop that’ll get you 100k followers overnight. Want it?” 6 [What a bunch of r*tarded fans, nothing but a nuisance. Loved me for six years? Go die then.] [I’m an adult, I can date whoever the hell I want. My own mom doesn’t care, who do these fans think they are? Bunch of psychos.] [Hahahaha, I knew it. Even if it gets exposed, these idiots will still line up to give me their money.] [Why aren’t the concert tickets sold out yet? That frost-tipped loser next door sold his out. Hurry up and buy them! Just buy ten each and it’s sold out, you useless trash.] I sat in my new apartment, snacking on sunflower seeds while reading Cole’s greatest hits. The ones trending were only a fraction of it. I didn’t even need to leak the rest; the bloodhounds on the internet naturally dug up the rest. Not only did they find him insulting his fans behind their backs, but they also found his burner account casually using derogatory nicknames for other celebrities and liking negative news articles about his rivals. Now the floodgates were open. Cole’s fans cursed him for being two-faced, and fans of the rival celebrities he insulted joined the bloodbath. His fans couldn’t believe that the idol who posted sweet, fan-loving messages every day was actually this kind of monster. Joke’s on them, I was the one writing all those sweet messages. The rival fandoms were even more in disbelief that there was a top-tier idol dumb enough to openly trash other celebrities on a burner account. Why wouldn’t they believe it? You don’t need a high IQ to be an idol. Quite the opposite, actually… I’ve said it before, if you know, you know. If the entertainment industry ranked status by IQ, at least half of them would have to retire. Cole’s social media experienced a massive wave of unfollowing, dozens of times worse than when he announced his relationship. I read through the posts from fans detailing the hardships of supporting him over the years and the pain of being backstabbed. I couldn’t help but sigh. To fans, an idol lacking talent, having poor character, or even breaking the law can be forgiven. But when the knife actually cuts into their own skin, that’s when it truly hurts. Of course, there were still delusional fans who refused to yield even with the knife at their throats. [A burner account of unverified origin is making you all this crazy? Unless he admits it himself, I will support him forever!] I saw that coming. Special thanks to the internet regulations requiring IP addresses to be displayed. People can lie, but IP addresses don’t. With the combined efforts of multiple fandoms, Cole’s burner account IP address history was dug up completely. Every single time he posted, the location perfectly matched his public flight and event schedule. Furthermore, the device used was a newly gifted sponsored phone—only a handful of celebrities in the entire industry had one. Unless someone stole his phone during every single trip just to tweet from a burner, it was impossible to spin. Faced with this massive headwind, even the most rabid fans couldn’t defend him. Cole was cursed out so badly he deleted the burner account and turned off comments on his main. The endorsements that once belonged to him dropped him for other stars. The upcoming concert came to a grinding halt. Fans demanded refunds en masse, totaling over ten million dollars. Cole’s team was desperately trying to hire crisis PR firms across all platforms. Unfortunately, this was a completely unsalvageable disaster. No one wanted to take the job. In a panic, Cole pulled his ultimate trick. He posted a long statement on his main account, claiming the burner account wasn’t his, the mega-fan was a hater, and the girl in the photo was just a friend. And at the very end of this post, I saw a very familiar maneuver. [My social media has always been controlled by my manager. I was unaware of these posts. If anything inappropriate was said, I apologize on her behalf.] The moment this post went live, the fans climaxed. They rallied on Stan Twitter, vowing to hunt me down and seek justice for their precious boy. 7 In my past life, Cole used this exact method to accuse me of controlling him, dumping all the dirty work he did onto me. He thought he could use the same trick to clear his name and push me into the abyss again. But he overlooked one thing. Back then, he had a spotless record and hadn’t lost any fans. But now, with undeniable proof dropping one after another, his credibility was already overdrawn. If I didn’t even have the ability to protect myself now, I would have lived my second life for nothing. What was even more amusing was the company. To cut their losses, they actually made Cole push his concert dates up early. They claimed it was due to “unforeseen circumstances,” but everyone knew the real reason. Cole turned off his comments, but he couldn’t turn off quote retweets. The quote retweets were filled with questions and mockery directed at his explanation. [What does this mean? Are you saying the burner account was run by your manager?] [Wait, if your social media is entirely controlled by your manager, does that mean all those sweet messages to fans were written by her too?] [What a great scapegoat. What did the manager ever do to you?] [Didn’t his manager quit? How is the burner account still active? Who are you trying to fool?] [His profile literally has a picture of his girlfriend.] [How does someone like this still have the nerve to hold a concert? Refund the tickets!] Cole thought his statement would win back fan support, but he was met with a wave of skepticism instead. Furious, he picked one of the replies and quote-tweeted it: [If I am lying about even half a word, I will send myself to prison.] [That sounds so familiar. I feel like I’ve heard it somewhere before.] [Bullshit! You’re the one who gave me the manager’s phone number!] [Whoa, looks like we got some tea.] [Check her profile, there’s proof of Cole burning bridges after using a fan.] I clicked into the profile. It was the mega-fan whose account had been banned. She made a new account and spilled everything: how Cole used her to smear his manager, and how he begged her not to expose his voice memos afterward. Because it was a new account with no traffic, no one paid attention at first. Cole’s statement ironically gave her exposure. [I spent almost a million dollars on him. When he used me, he called me his ‘only true sister.’ Then he kicked me to the curb and mass-reported my account. Today, I’m going to show you all the disgusting face of your ‘idol’!] She posted every single transaction she ever spent on Cole, along with chat logs of Cole telling her to incite fans to smear rival celebrities and his manager. Everyone finally realized that the glamorous top-tier idol was actually doing so much dirty work behind the scenes. The calls for him to retire and be blacklisted grew louder and louder. Unfortunately, he only had terrible moral character; it wasn’t quite at the level of a ban-worthy legal offense yet. His few remaining fans were still fighting on the front lines, claiming they supported him for his professional work, not his personal life, and vowed to attend his concert. They even hyped up his live performances, claiming he “ate CDs for breakfast” (meaning he sounded identical to studio recordings). Stan Twitter was a complete mess, tearing each other apart. I silently ate my popcorn, not in a hurry at all. Because Cole’s hastily rescheduled concert was about to begin. When the time came, I would let them see what “eating CDs” truly sounded like. 8 The day before the concert, the company was still aggressively marketing Cole, praising him as the strongest vocalist of the new generation, stable as a CD live. I spat in disgust. The videos the company released were all pre-recorded. Cole’s actual singing ability… let’s just say it had nothing to do with a CD. He was about as pitch-perfect as my neighbor’s dog. “With vocals like yours, you want to hold an arena tour?” “Come on, please help me out. That frost-tipped loser next door is doing a tour. I can’t let him beat me.” “He’s doing a tour because he can actually sing! Can you?” “I can’t sing, but I can just lip-sync!” I was shocked: “Cole, this is a concert. Fans paid money and bought tickets to hear you sing live, not to watch you move your mouth. Lip-syncing an entire concert? Do you want the fans to tear you apart?” “I’ve seen K-pop groups lip-sync at concerts, and their fans don’t yell at them.” 9 He only paid attention to the worst habits of others and ignored everything good. I was so angry at Cole I almost developed a stress ulcer. What was even more infuriating was that he secretly recorded backing tracks behind my back. But Cole was still somewhat obedient back then. He didn’t dare fully lip-sync under my watch. We used a heavy backing track for his concerts. At the time, no one noticed, and he hadn’t yet entered the mainstream public eye. But this time, things were different. The next day, Cole’s fourth arena tour date proceeded as scheduled. The first three shows were completely sold out, but this time, affected by the wave of refunds, the arena wasn’t even half full. A large group of fans shouted for refunds outside, creating a highly entertaining scene. During the concert, Cole used the opportunity to cry to the fans about his innocence and how wronged he was. He cried until his voice was hoarse, crying so hard it made people’s hearts ache. Fans at the venue, desperate to salvage their idol’s reputation, recorded and live-streamed the entire thing, declaring they would make the people who framed him pay. Then things got interesting. One second, Cole was crying so hard he could barely breathe. The next, when the music started, his voice was completely unaffected—smooth and stable as a CD. Even more hilariously, it was an upbeat dance track. On the jumbotron, Cole had tears streaming down his face, but the vocals blasting through the speakers were incredibly cheerful. This jarringly disconnected performance left the audience totally stunned. The fan live-streaming didn’t realize the danger. She was still in her stream praising her idol for his professionalism and amazing vocals, saying his crying didn’t affect his singing at all. Random onlookers who clicked into the stream laughed out loud, then immediately sent the clip to a famous live-performance critique YouTuber. The YouTuber analyzed it: Cole was 100% lip-syncing. Honestly, you didn’t even need an analysis. Anyone with functioning ears and eyes could tell. Someone even dug up audio from a previous Cole concert and found it was identical to this one. While Cole lip-synced his heart out on stage, the YouTuber aggressively exposed him online. By the time the concert ended, the fans who had been immersed in their idol’s “perfect vocals” finally realized what happened and quickly shut down the stream. Unfortunately, it was too late. A complete chain of evidence had been preserved. The fans who had previously spent money to see Cole’s concerts felt completely scammed. Because the fallout was so severe, consumer protection authorities stepped in to investigate the mass fraud complaints. Before Cole’s afterparty even finished, he received a summons. Rumor has it that when he was taken away, he tried to use his A-list status to threaten the officials. But they didn’t care at all and forcibly hauled him in. And I, as his former manager, was also called in to assist with the investigation. I ran into Cole at the precinct doors. 10 He was wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses, covering his face completely. When he saw me, his mouth twisted in a snarl, ready to interrogate me. “You did this, didn’t you? You set me up! Just because my fans hit you with a car in that other life, you want to ruin me like this?!” Cole clenched his fists and lunged at me, but was blocked by security. So he also remembered his past life. But why was he still so brainless? “I’m innocent! Besides exposing your burner account, nothing else has anything to do with me.” Cole was shocked. His eyes widened, trying to catch a lie on my face. “If it wasn’t you, who else could it be? Who else hates me this much…” I shrugged. “Who knows?” Unfortunately, with Cole’s IQ, he wouldn’t get it. “Hmph, stop pretending. Only you know about those things. Don’t think ruining my reputation will actually do anything to me.” I couldn’t be bothered to explain, silently watching him act tough. He threw a threat at me: “Last time I crushed you effortlessly. Believe it or not, I can do it again this time.” I gave him my best customer-service smile: “Is that so? I don’t believe it.” Cole glared at me, fuming. Soon, his question would be answered. While I was giving my statement, my insider friend sent me a photo packed with highly sensitive information. Although it was pixelated, I immediately recognized Cole’s girlfriend, Sierra Knox, linking arms with a tall man in black. It wasn’t a secret to me that Sierra had another guy on the side, but the words my friend typed next revealed a massive bombshell. “I was actually there to photograph someone else, but I ended up snapping this girl by accident.” “Who is the other guy?” She sent me an unblurred photo of the guy in black. I saw a head full of frosted tips. “Cole’s arch-rival, Dylan Vance.” The name “Dylan” made me think of the police report regarding Sierra’s accidental death in the previous life. The report did mention that “Ms. Knox” and a “Mr. Vance” had a physical altercation due to a romantic dispute, but I never expected that “Mr. Vance” to be Dylan. “I also heard that Dylan has a relative who is a high-level executive at [Major Social Media Platform].” So that was it. No wonder Cole’s continuous stream of negative trending topics stayed up so smoothly; someone was fueling the fire from the shadows. During this time, Cole was busy dealing with scandals and prepping for his concert. He probably had no time for Sierra. Sierra took that opportunity to hook up with Dylan. If it were just Dylan caught in a dating rumor, fans would probably accept it since he was actually a talented singer. But this time was different. Sierra had publicly exposed her intimate photos with Cole online. That face… even with the pixels, I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who recognized her; Cole’s fans would definitely spot her too. It had been over four months since Cole announced his relationship. Looking at the timeline, these two might even have a baby on the way. After Cole finished being questioned, he walked past me. This time was just an inquiry; they let him go after getting the facts. He didn’t suffer any substantial loss. Through the glass window, Cole looked smug and shot me a provocative gesture. I smiled as I watched him leave, calculating in my head how to break the good news to him that he was getting played.

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After being adopted by a wealthy family, my three older brothers hated me. When I performed in front of a crowd, my fingers were pierced by needles hidden under the piano keys. As blood poured from my hands, they stood in the crowd, watching with cold indifference. But in the middle of the night, someone slipped into my bed to secretly bandage my wounds. I called out softly, “Brother.” His fingers tightened, roughly bruising my lips. He gritted his teeth and demanded: “Do you even know which brother I am before you call out?” I lowered my eyes and stayed silent. It didn’t matter which one he was; he wasn’t the one I wanted to call “Brother.” 01 The news of rising star jewelry designer Chloe Vance returning to the US dominated the trending charts. In the video, she wore sunglasses and bright red lipstick, looking as radiant and captivating as a rose soaked in morning dew. Reporters shoved microphones in her face, swarming around her: “Miss Vance, we heard that the piece that won the International Gold Award was your debut work. Could you share your inspiration with us?” “Miss Vance, elements like doves and feathers frequently appear in your designs. Do they hold a special symbolic meaning for you?” “Miss Vance, rumor has it you’ve already signed with the design studio under the Sterling Group. Does this mean wedding bells are in the near future for you and the CEO of the Sterling Group?” Chloe stopped walking, looked at the cameras, and smiled slightly. “You’ll all have the answers to those questions very soon.” She pulled her left hand out of her trench coat pocket. On her slender ring finger, a massive diamond ring sparkled brilliantly. “My fiancé and I will soon be…” The video abruptly cut off. I pulled my gaze away from the black screen and looked up at the man holding me in his lap. He casually tossed the remote aside, took my hand, and pressed it against the black and white piano keys. “Break time is over. The fingering we just practiced—do it ten more times.” I nodded obediently. “Okay, Julian.” Julian Sterling’s hand paused, a hint of pleasure coloring his voice: “After you finish practicing, I’ll take you to pick out a pretty dress. We’re going to the Vance estate together tonight.” “Julian, are you taking me to meet my future sister-in-law?” His breath suddenly hitched, and he spoke with near-irritation: “…No.” I didn’t say another word. I gently pulled my hand free and began to play. His long, calloused hand rested motionless on the high-octave keys for a long time. My fingers occasionally brushed past his as I expertly pressed the keys in between his hands. The brief brush of our skin was as light as a feather. The melody of Für Elise flowed exceptionally smoothly. Julian stared intently, but he never lifted his hand. 02 Julian and Chloe had gotten engaged two years ago. That was when I first entered the Sterling household, just starting my senior year of high school. Chloe had eagerly arranged for me to transfer to a prestigious private prep school. As the third son of the Sterling family, Liam Sterling, was in the same grade, Chloe put on the airs of a future sister-in-law: “Mia is just a young girl in a new environment. It’s always safer to have her own brother keeping an eye on her.” “I’ll be studying abroad for two years. Having a little sister in the house will keep you guys entertained.” “Just make sure you don’t scare her.” She smiled slyly, reaching out to pat my head. I ducked to avoid her touch. A flash of darkness crossed Chloe’s eyes before she picked up her designer bag and gracefully walked away. A lot happened during the two years she was away. For instance, I became the target of severe bullying at that elite prep school, and my grades plummeted. Chloe’s younger brother, Carter Vance, was a notorious, reckless rich kid. He took a liking to my face and began making loud, public declarations of love around campus. After I rejected him to his face, he flew into a humiliated rage and swore he would make it impossible for me to stay at that school. My textbooks and assignments would be reduced to confetti by the next morning. Whether I opened the classroom door or a bathroom stall, I would be drenched head to toe by a bucket of dirty water. Flying stationery and random trash would strike me from every angle when I wasn’t looking. Being shoved and pushed amidst mocking laughter became a daily routine. They spread vicious rumors about me, claiming I was the one seducing Carter, that I was stalking him after he rejected me, and that I was desperate to climb into his bed. One guy maliciously taunted me to my face: “If you can’t climb into Carter’s bed, I won’t mind settling for you. Name your price. We all want a taste of the Sterling family’s new ‘miss’.” The group erupted in laughter. Liam, sitting nearby seemingly unbothered, finally grew irritated upon hearing the last sentence and spoke up: “That’s enough.” The guy looked from me to Liam, reeling in his laughter as he prepared to leave. I clenched my trembling fists and slapped him hard across the face. He flew into a rage: “You fucking—” That day, he kicked my desk over and shoved me to the ground. My head slammed into the sharp corner of the desk. The overwhelming metallic scent of blood filled the air, and my consciousness began to blur. It was Liam who rushed me to the hospital. Lying in the hospital bed, I clung to his shirt, refusing to let go. Even while unconscious, I cried out: “Brother, please don’t leave me.” When I woke up, I had forgotten everything from my past. I looked at Liam, who was keeping watch by my bed, and asked him timidly: “Are you my brother?” From that day on, the gloomiest, most fearful adopted daughter of the Sterling family became a docile, flawless princess. 03 I attended Chloe’s welcome-back banquet arm-in-arm with Julian. I wore a pale blue princess gown handpicked by him. Around my neck was a dazzling necklace he had personally fastened for me—a white dove pendant. The dove’s eye was a massive, brilliant Graff pink diamond. Under the banquet lights, it was blindingly beautiful. Chloe greeted us with a smile, but her pupils constricted when her gaze swept over my neck. She looped her arm through Julian’s other arm, forcing a strained smile: “I thought when you won that diamond at the auction, you were going to use it for an engagement ring. You’re spoiling your little sister a bit too much, aren’t you?” I tactfully pulled my hand out of Julian’s arm. “What are you talking about, Chloe? For something as important as an engagement, Julian obviously has something even better prepared for you.” Chloe’s eyes widened, her voice full of surprise: “Really? Julian, then I…” “Mia.” A gentle, familiar voice cut into our conversation. A man wearing gold-rimmed glasses walked up to me, looking sharp and elegant in a white peak-lapel suit. He held a glass of red wine. His voice was as rich as the vintage in his hand, yet it made my spine go rigid: “Haven’t you forgotten everything? How is it that you specifically remember your ‘sister’ Chloe?” “That’s hardly fair.” I steadied my nerves and reached for his wine glass: “Tristan, Julian has a picture of Chloe in his study. Don’t act like I don’t know that.” The corner of Julian’s mouth quirked up. He didn’t deny it. Chloe looked bashful, gazing at Julian with ever-growing affection. I looped my arm through Tristan’s and gave the engaged couple a sweet smile: “Julian, Chloe, I won’t be the third wheel here.” “Tristan, let’s go over to the dessert table, okay? I want some red velvet cake.” Tristan led me away. Behind us, Julian stared at my arm linked with Tristan’s, his expression bordering on displeasure. Chloe had to call his name several times before he snapped out of it. 04 At the dessert table, Tristan took his wine glass back from me. “You’re still young. You shouldn’t drink too much.” I playfully shoved half a spoonful of cake into his mouth: “Tristan! I’m a sophomore in college now. I’m an adult.” “Is that so?” He chewed slowly, his eyes behind the lenses dark and unreadable, a smile playing on his lips: “Then you can only have one sip.” He held the wine glass to my lips. I tilted my head back. The deep red liquid flooded my mouth and flowed down my throat, bringing a fiery heat. He showed no sign of pulling his hand away, so I kept drinking. I drank until a rosy flush spread across my pale skin. I drank until I choked and started coughing softly. Tristan finally lowered the glass, thoughtfully patting my back: “Greedy little cat.” “I told you not to drink too much, and you didn’t even know when to stop.” His warm palm pressed against my bare back. My cheeks burned as I smiled dizzily at him. Tristan’s hand lingered for only a second before someone pushed it away. A suit jacket landed on my shoulders, enveloping me in the faint scent of verbena. Liam’s clear voice sounded highly displeased: “Tristan, why did you let Mia drink so much?” “That Miss Vance just said she wanted to hear our Mia perform on stage. I don’t think she can…” “What do you mean, she can’t?” I clutched my chest and looked up, just in time to see Julian striding over with a cold expression. He was walking so fast that Chloe could barely keep up, having to jog to catch him while lifting her dress: “Julian…” Julian turned sideways and firmly grasped her hand. Ignoring Chloe’s suddenly flushed face, he looked only at me: “Your sister-in-law wants to hear you play. Go play.” “Julian, you…” I gently placed my hand over Liam’s, my eyes bright and innocent. “Julian has spent so much time teaching me the fingering. It’s only right that I show Chloe the results.” I sat down on the piano bench. A sharp, silvery gleam caught the light in the gaps between the keys, making me think back to the night of the high school anniversary gala. Without my knowledge, Carter had signed me up for a solo piano performance. I had only recently “lost” my memory, and Julian’s sudden interest in teaching me piano was only a few weeks old. I could only play beginner-level exercises. I forced myself onto the stage. And on a keyboard lined with hidden needles, I played until my hands were dripping with blood. The disjointed, horrific melody drew a chorus of boos from the audience. I retreated from the stage in humiliation, only for Carter to corner me and warn me: “Don’t actually think of yourself as some princess. You’re nothing but a toy the Sterling family picked up to pass the time while my sister is abroad.” But then again, who isn’t a toy? I smiled and placed my hands on the keys. The next second, the powerful chords of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5 echoed through the banquet hall. I struck the keys with all my strength. The pain was bone-deep. Blood splattered, yet it felt exhilarating. I watched the crowd in the audience, watching me with casual detachment. Julian caught sight of the red spreading across the black and white keys. For a moment, he looked as if he wanted to walk toward me. Tristan whispered in his ear: “Didn’t you say she was just a toy?” Julian stopped moving. He also placed a restraining hand on Liam’s shoulder. When the piece ended, I stood up to take a bow. The droplets of blood splattered on my dress looked like vivid rose petals. As the thunderous applause died down, gasps of horror erupted. I heard Chloe let out a perfectly feigned shriek of panic: “Oh my god, what happened?! Who… who messed with her piano beforehand?!” 05 The Vance family doctor haphazardly bandaged my hands. He didn’t even bother to disinfect the wounds. Chloe apologized profusely, yet her eyes held no real remorse. She looked at me like I was an ant. Her apologies were purely to display her grace as the Vance heiress and to protect the reputation of both families. Just as the Sterling family knew exactly who the culprit was but remained silent—also to protect the families’ reputations. In the end, I was just a toy kept on a whim. It wasn’t worth making a fuss over a toy. On the ride back to the Sterling estate, the alcohol hit me. I curled up and fell asleep, whimpering in pain in my dreams. It was Julian who carried me back to my room. He looked at the blood seeping through the bandages, his expression complex: “If you knew it was going to hurt, why didn’t you stop?” “I couldn’t embarrass you, Julian.” I sat up, arguing earnestly: “You taught me how to play. With so many people listening, if I messed up or stopped halfway, it would look so bad for my teacher.” He froze for a moment, then awkwardly looked away from me and strode out of the room. “No practice for the next few days. Just rest.” I replied with a sweet, obedient “Okay.” “Goodnight, Julian.” I slept very poorly that night. In my hazy consciousness, I felt like a dark, beastly gaze was fixed on me. Sharp pain shot through my injured fingers intermittently. I snapped my eyes open and saw a dark figure lying beside me, gently dabbing ointment onto my fingers. His movements were clumsy, but incredibly tender. I drifted in a daze for a second, then called out to him: “Brother.” The man scoffed. He slowly finished wrapping the fresh bandage around my hand, tying a tight, forceful knot. I flinched in pain. In that moment of clarity, tears welled up in my eyes. He leaned over the covers, pressing his weight onto me. His fingers, smelling of antiseptic, ground roughly against my lips. His voice was low and furious: “Do you even know which brother I am before you call out?” I lowered my eyes and stayed silent. His anger flared. He sneered ominously in my ear: “So now you play mute with me? But when it comes to Julian, you do exactly what he tells you. So incredibly obedient.” I buried my face in the crook of his neck, my hot tears hitting his skin. He seemed burned by the touch, freezing instantly. I sobbed into his ear: “I thought you would come save me.” “My hands hurt so much… Why didn’t you come save me, Liam?” Liam clumsily pulled me tight, using his sleeve to wipe my tears: “It’s not your fault… I don’t blame you anymore, Mia. Please don’t cry, okay?” “It’s all Julian’s fault. He shouldn’t have agreed to marry into the Vance family, and he shouldn’t have used you to please that woman.” “Trust me, Mia. I won’t let her hurt you again.” But she had already hurt me. Over and over again. From the needles in the piano to the maliciously orchestrated bullying. And even earlier, before I had even entered the Sterling home. She had destroyed the only thing I had left to hold onto. 06 At the breakfast table the next morning, it was just Tristan and Liam. The maid said Julian had left for the office early. As soon as I sat down, Tristan joked about my hands: “Who wrapped these for you? They look like mummies. How are you supposed to eat breakfast?” “Come here. Let me re-bandage them.” A maid immediately brought over the first-aid kit. I glanced at Liam’s dark expression, hesitated for a moment, and then walked over. The bow Liam tied came undone with a single pull from Tristan. Liam set down his knife and fork, crossing his arms as he watched: “I thought they were wrapped perfectly fine. If Mia can’t use her hands to eat, I’ll feed her.” Tristan leaned over, patiently and methodically unwinding the gauze layer by layer. Behind his gold-rimmed glasses, his eyes were focused entirely on my hands, not even glancing at his younger brother: “They were bundled into a clump. If Mia can’t use her hands, how is she supposed to go to class and draw today?” I was a jewelry design major. The series of “accidents” during my senior year of high school inevitably took a toll on me. I didn’t get into the top university. Julian made the executive decision to enroll me in a local college near the Sterling estate, demanding that I commute from home every day. We had a disagreement when it came to choosing my major. He was very unhappy with my choice of jewelry design. “A girl your age should study literature, history, or philosophy. Why choose something like this?” I hugged his arm and pleaded: “I know the Sterling Group is expanding into the jewelry market. I just want to be able to help you in the future, Julian.” “From now on, I’ll design all your tie clips, brooches, and cufflinks!” Julian’s lips curled into a smile, and he didn’t argue any further. After breakfast, Liam and I went to campus. In class, the senior sitting next to me, Sarah, frowned when she saw my fingers: “What happened? How did you get hurt this badly?” “Just a little accident. I’m sorry, Sarah. I might need to delay submitting the drafts by three days.” “It’s fine.” After class, Sarah took me to her dorm and pulled a tube of ointment from her drawer. “This is amazing for surface wounds. Try it.” My heart ached with gratitude as I thanked her. The Sterling family didn’t know about the design studio Sarah and I had started together. Sarah never asked me why I didn’t just intern at the design studio owned by the Sterling Group, opting instead to start from scratch. She had just looked at my past design portfolio and immediately made the call: “Your style is very distinct. I think we can get commissions.” During all the time we didn’t have class, we ran around, visiting factories to find suppliers. We went from a two-person operation relying on word of mouth to the moderately sized “Chrysalis Studio.” This was the other world where I could breathe freely, far away from the Sterling family. Sarah reminded me again: “Don’t rush to draw for the next few days. Let your hands heal. We have plenty of time.” I nodded, watching as she opened her laptop. A familiar design draft was prominently displayed on a tab she hadn’t closed. Countless dazzling colored gemstones and brilliant gold formed a magnificent crown. In the center of the crown was a dove encrusted with white diamonds. It was posed to take flight, holding a flower made of red diamonds in its beak, looking like it was dripping blood. “Sarah, do you know Chloe Vance?” Sarah scrolled with her mouse: “I know who she is, but we’re not close.” “She’s been in the news a lot lately. I’ve looked at her early work. Honestly, every piece is breathtakingly brilliant.” “But for some reason, her later style completely changed. Even though she’s still praised online, I feel like there’s a huge disconnect from her early work.” Sarah looked thoughtful as she spoke. Then, she suddenly realized something: “I’m sorry. I forgot that your brother is engaged to the Vance family. Was I out of line by saying that…” “It’s fine, Sarah. You’re right.” I stared at the screen. The dazzling light of the jewelry stung my eyes. Those pieces never belonged to Chloe Vance in the first place. And the Sterlings were not my family. 07 The Sterling and Vance families began discussing a wedding date. Chloe’s social media updated almost daily, showcasing her either trying on wedding dresses or picking out wedding rings. She playfully complained about Julian: “When will you finally put down your work to spend time with me? I’m always picking out things alone. My fans are going to suspect we’re not doing well.” Julian finally took a weekend off to accompany her to look at wedding dresses. I used the excuse of a rescheduled class to avoid coming home during the day. By the time my hand was fully healed, the design draft I had given Sarah had been manufactured into a finished product. The craftsmen were incredibly skilled. Every detail of the brooch was flawless. Even Sarah couldn’t put it down. “If this doesn’t become a best-seller, it would be a crime. You’re our cash cow, Mia.” “The first piece of the ‘Kapok’ series is a brooch. Have you thought about what to make next?” I smiled and said, “Let’s do a bracelet.” I started pulling frequent all-nighters, staying at the studio for several nights in a row. One day, while I was in class, I suddenly got a call from Julian. His voice carried an unprecedented rage: “Mia, come home immediately.” My heart pounded frantically as I rushed back to the Sterling estate. Julian was sitting in the living room, with Chloe sitting beside him. Even Tristan and Liam were there. This interrogation-like setup made my steps falter. I stood at the doorway, looking confused: “Julian, did you need me for something?” Julian didn’t say a word. Chloe tugged his sleeve and smiled at me: “Oh, it’s not a big deal. Mia just spent a few nights out. It’s not like she was out doing anything bad.” “She’s a young, beautiful girl. It’s completely normal for her to have a boy she likes…” So it was about me not coming home. I thought the secret about the studio had been discovered early. I relaxed and walked further inside, feigning calmness: “What are you talking about, Chloe? I don’t have a boyfriend.” “Then what were you doing every night?” Julian’s expression softened slightly, but his eyes were still frighteningly dark: “If I hadn’t been talking to Tristan, I wouldn’t have even known you haven’t been home for days!” “And you two! Why didn’t you keep an eye on her?!” Liam lazily raised his hand: “I asked Mia. She said she had assignments to rush and spent the nights pulling all-nighters in the metalworking studio of her jewelry design department.” “How can you sleep comfortably in a classroom…” Chloe smiled slyly: “Mia, it’s okay to go out and get a hotel room to rest with a classmate.” As expected of a Vance. Her methods of spreading rumors were exactly the same as her brother’s. Julian clearly understood the implication of her words. His face turned ugly again: “Mia, have some self-respect.” Tears welled up in my eyes. I looked at him sadly, my voice choking: “Julian, you’re accusing me.” I unzipped my backpack and pulled out a thick stack of design drafts. “I was in the classroom the whole time. I really didn’t go out and get a hotel…” “Enough.” Julian stood up, his face full of irritation. He walked past me with long strides, coldly dropping a single sentence: “Don’t let me find out you’re staying out all night again.” “Otherwise, you’re changing your major.” The drafts were hit by the coat draped over his arm. My grip loosened, and the snow-white pages fluttered all over the room. I crouched down to pick them up, large teardrops falling one by one. Tristan and Liam stayed to help me. Chloe originally wanted to chase after Julian, but her peripheral vision caught something. She suddenly leaned in close to comfort me: “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have spoken out of turn. I’ll go explain it to Julian.” She patted my shoulder, secretly slipping a piece of paper from the stack behind me, quickly crumpling it up and stuffing it into her bag. 08 After that, I spent my nights at the Sterling house. The light in my bedroom stayed on late into the night. Someone would always come knocking. Sometimes it was Tristan, sometimes it was Liam. Sometimes they came together. I couldn’t hide it fast enough, and they saw the pattern on the paper. It was the second piece of the Kapok series: the Kapok flower bracelet. Fortunately, they didn’t know much about jewelry, so they naturally didn’t connect it to the Kapok brooch that had been gaining popularity domestically. They didn’t know it was my design. Tristan was a partner at a law firm, and Liam dreamed of becoming a race car driver. “You’re staying up later than me every day. Don’t tell me you’re making a wedding gift for Julian?” Tristan asked me with a half-smile. I looked up from the pile of drafts, feigning surprise: “How did you know, Tristan?” “The day my drafts fell, the final sketch went missing. I have to work overtime to redo it.” I explained shyly, my face flushed. Tristan stopped smiling. After a long pause, he looked at Liam with a sneer: “Our older brother is certainly lucky.” Liam snorted and walked out. Once the design drafts were finalized, I began the handcrafting process. I brought some equipment from the studio into my bedroom and continued working through the nights. Julian only had the maids report to him daily to confirm I slept at home. But Tristan and Liam practically witnessed the creation of the very first finished Kapok bracelet. Given the color scheme and diameter, it was clearly not meant for a woman. Tristan examined it in his hand for a while, making a motion to slip it onto his wrist: “Looks like a good fit.” I glared at him, grabbed his wrist, and pulled the bracelet off: “That’s for Julian. Don’t break it.” Liam leaned lazily against the doorframe, watching us bicker with a cold expression: “You ungrateful little brat. Two of your brothers are here keeping you company, and all you care about is the one who’s absent.” “If you’re making a wedding gift, it should be a pair. What does it mean to only make one for Julian?” I carefully placed the bracelet into a velvet box and flashed him an innocent smile: “I don’t have enough time. The wedding is coming up so fast. I’ll make one for Chloe later.” In reality, I had already finalized the design for the women’s version of the bracelet. After the factory-produced finished product passed inspection, the women’s bracelet—the second piece of the Chrysalis Studio’s Kapok series—was already available for sale. That weekend, I stayed home, which was unusual. Sarah called me, her tone uncharacteristically serious: “Mia, during the design process of the Kapok bracelet, did anyone see your drafts?”

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On the first day of college, I found out my roommate was a former patient from the psychiatric ward where I was hospitalized. When her mother saw me, she threw a massive fit in the dorm, demanding I be expelled. “She has bipolar disorder! What if she goes crazy and kills someone?!” I pulled out my medical clearance, and although I was allowed to stay, I was subjected to endless side-eyes and whispers. My roommate kept apologizing to me, crying and begging me not to expose her own medical history. Later, she wreaked havoc in the dorm, stealing our suitemates’ clothes and framing me for it, taking their makeup and falsely accusing me. When she had a mental breakdown over a breakup and tried to jump off a building, I saved her—only for her to tell everyone I pushed her. I was forcibly committed to a mental asylum and tortured to death. Reborn into this life, I slapped her right across the face! Yeah, that’s right, I’m a psycho! 1 “What kind of cheap bedding is this? It’s absolute garbage. Don’t associate with this kind of student, she’s definitely dead broke… ” “…Why is it you?” “She’s a psycho! What if she has an episode and kills someone?” The shrill voice of Chloe’s mother pierced my ears. She was currently pointing at me, screaming a barrage of insults. I froze for a moment, in a daze, realizing I had been reborn and returned to my very first day of freshman year. “How can this university admit a mental patient?” “Hurry! Go get your RA! She’s a psycho! We have to kick her out!” My roommates, who had just been defending me a moment ago, were now looking at me with strange, fearful expressions. On move-in day, I was the first one to arrive at the dorm. When I came back from getting some water, the bed I had meticulously made was tossed haphazardly onto the floor. “The window is too drafty, and the door is too close to the light switch. You can sleep over there, it’s perfect.” Just like today, Chloe’s mother had stolen my chosen bed. When she turned around and saw me, there was not a single word of apology. Instead, she started screaming in the dorm that I was a psycho and demanded I be kicked out. In my past life, burdened by my history of bipolar disorder, I felt inferior and terrified. I treaded on eggshells and didn’t utter a word in my defense. “Mom, stop it… ” “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” Chloe dragged her mother out the door while apologizing to me. Afterward, she pulled me aside, crying and begging me not to tell anyone about her medical history. “My mom is just overly worried about me. I am truly, incredibly sorry.” During her senior year of high school, the immense academic pressure her family put on her caused her to develop severe clinical depression. At the time, her symptoms were so severe she suffered from mutism and incontinence. As a fellow high school senior who was hospitalized, I knew exactly how agonizing that journey was. My mother had passed away when I was born. I thought to myself, if my mother were still alive, would she worry about me like this too? In a moment of soft-heartedness, I let it go. After all, it was her mother who threw my bedding on the floor, not her. But what I didn’t know back then was that Chloe later bought boba and snacks for the other roommates while I wasn’t around. Using the little incident on move-in day as a segue, she “bravely” confessed that she had suffered from depression in high school, and then dramatically embellished the story of our encounter in the psych ward. My roommates, heartbroken by her past, instantly went on high alert against me. This time, I would not endure it or back down. Before Chloe could even drag her mother out the dorm door… I walked straight over, ripped the sheets her mother had just laid down right off the bed, and tossed my own bedding back into its rightful place. “Yeah, that’s right! I am a psycho! And I don’t internalize my stress, I externalize it! ” “Chloe, please, I hope we can understand each other moving forward!” Chloe froze in shock. Her mother raised her voice and began reprimanding me: “Look! The psycho is having an episode! She actually ripped off the bed I spent half an hour making!” Still furious, she lunged at me, ready to strike. I ducked, dodging her hand, and as I stood back up, I delivered a stinging backhand right across her face! SMACK— Chloe’s mother’s eyes widened in sheer disbelief. It made sense. After all, when we were in the hospital, I was a timid, cowardly kid who had no one looking out for her. Unwilling to take the hit, she tried to strike back, but was grabbed by our RA, who had rushed over. To pacify Chloe’s mother, the RA took them away first. The remaining girls in the dorm looked at each other in stunned silence. I simply pulled out my medical records and the official certificate of recovery issued by the hospital. “I did previously suffer from bipolar disorder, but I have never hurt anyone. Furthermore, after treatment, I have fully recovered. ” “My medical history has already been reported to the university, and I have signed the relevant agreements. If you feel uncomfortable with me, you can apply to the RA for a room transfer.” 2 During my senior year of high school, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. My dad called me a psycho and tried to force me to jump off the balcony. “You’re a psycho anyway, your whole life is ruined. You might as well do something useful. ” “Dad has no choice, I owe hundreds of thousands in gambling debts. I bought life insurance for you… ” “If you die, Dad’s debts will be paid off.” I barely made it out of that so-called home alive that day. Clutching the scholarship money I had saved over the years, I knelt on the floor and begged my dad. I told him I would make money to pay off his debts. I told him I was a straight-A student, and once I got into a good college and started working, I could make even more money for him. I don’t know if he was moved by my words, or if he just felt a brief moment of pity. He smoked a cigarette, and hesitated. I don’t remember how I escaped the house. I took a bus to my mother’s grave. It was only then that I dared to break down and cry. Later, my grandmother used her pension to pay for my hospitalization. I was hospitalized for two months, working hard to cooperate with the treatment. When I couldn’t sleep, I would get up, do practice tests, and study. Despite taking two months off from school, my grades didn’t slip. Instead, I ranked first in the five-school mock exams. I gave it everything I had and was accepted into a prestigious university far away in the North. That summer, I didn’t dare slack off for a single second. I worked three jobs a day. I left the house at 5 AM to collect recycling on the streets, cleaned a martial arts studio in the afternoon, and washed dishes at a restaurant at night. I lived frugally and finally scraped together enough for my freshman tuition. Once in college, not only did I have to keep up with my coursework, but I also had to earn my own living expenses. And every month, I still had to wire money to my dad. Later, when Chloe tried to commit suicide by jumping off a building and was saved, she was terrified her mother would yell at her, so she insisted I was the one who pushed her. To get revenge, her mother hired someone to investigate my family background. For the price of ten thousand dollars from her mother… My dad signed the papers, committing me to the mental asylum Chloe’s mother had arranged. In the end, I was tortured to death. In my past life, I always thought that since my mother was dead, I couldn’t afford to lose my father too. Even if he no longer loved me, I was still willing to help him pay off his debts. Yet he tried to take my life, time and time again. In this life, looking at the incoming call from my dad on my phone, I immediately hung up. 3 “I’m so incredibly sorry for disturbing everyone on move-in day. I brought boba for everyone, please forgive me.” Chloe placed a boba tea and some snacks on each roommate’s desk. Only my desk was empty. I had picked up a part-time job and had just come back to grab something. It was exactly this day. Chloe sighed, a layer of mist forming in her eyes. “During my senior year of high school, the academic pressure was so intense I developed clinical depression. ” “That time was so hard, I don’t even know how I survived it… ” “To be honest with you all, Victoria is a fellow patient I met while hospitalized. She has bipolar disorder, not like me, I just had depression… I’ve seen her manic episodes, it was truly terrifying. ” “And her family background isn’t great. Her dad is a gambling addict, and her mom was reportedly beaten to death by him… ” “My mom was just worried about me, which is why she acted like that on move-in day.” Bella took the boba tea and comforted her: “You didn’t do anything wrong. Manic episodes are inherently scary, you don’t need to apologize to anyone.” Mia blinked her big eyes and asked bluntly: “So is your depression cured now?” Chloe’s face suddenly didn’t look so good, as if she were about to cry. “It’s mostly cured. I promise it won’t affect anyone’s life or studies. ” “The doctor said I’m quite sensitive and need to live in a positive, uplifting environment. ” “That’s why my mom didn’t want me rooming with Victoria.” I couldn’t be bothered to stand by the door eavesdropping anymore and pushed the door right open. Seeing me, Chloe immediately changed her tune. “Vicky, I thought you went to your part-time job, so I didn’t get you a boba. How about this, you can have mine! I haven’t opened it yet.” I pushed the boba away: “A rat has skin, yet a person can be without dignity. A rat has a body, yet a person can be without manners. If a person has no manners, why don’t they just die?” Chloe was stunned for three seconds before she finally processed it. “Waaaaah—Vicky, why are you insulting me? ” “I really didn’t know you were coming back today, I didn’t leave you out on purpose.” Chloe lowered her head and started sobbing, looking incredibly wronged. “Forget insulting you to your face. If you can’t hear me clearly, I’ll carve it on your tombstone!” Bella’s savior complex flared up, and she stood up to shield Chloe. “Victoria, why are you being so toxic?” It was exactly like this in my past life. Every time Chloe shifted the blame onto me… Bella’s savior complex would go into overdrive, and she’d be the first to jump out and defend her. “None of your damn business!” “You!… ” Bella didn’t expect me to clap back directly. After all, she was the professor’s pet and the interim class president. In my past life, my financial aid spot was forcefully given to Chloe by her, manipulating the process from the inside. Chloe took that financial aid money, treated the roommates to a fancy dinner, bought the newest iPhone, and even paid for her HPV vaccine. “What do you mean ‘You’? ” “If I don’t want her boba, I’m toxic? Is her boba encrusted with diamonds? I don’t want it, and you’re calling me toxic? Is your brain filled with water and missing a drainpipe? ” “If you’re lacking a few brain cells, go get your atrociously underdeveloped mind checked out! ” “Hurry up and take your twisted morals to a doctor, early treatment means early recovery!” 4 A few days into the semester, I had completely burned my bridges with Chloe and Bella. In my past life, because I had the highest entrance exam scores in the class, I was nominated to run for the student council. But at the time, crippled by the stigma of my bipolar history, I withdrew my candidacy. Reborn into this life, I had completely changed my mindset. As long as your mindset is strong, you can mess with everyone else’s. If your mindset is weak, you’ll just end up getting messed with. I pushed past my internal anxiety and stood at the podium to deliver my campaign speech. When the speech ended, to my surprise, I was met with applause. Taking advantage of the moment the applause died down and the classroom went quiet, Chloe deliberately said in a cloying voice: “Vicky, you’re amazing! Even with bipolar disorder, you still ran for class president. Unlike me, I’ve never even run for a student council position.” Yep, the whole class heard it. Chloe covered her mouth in feigned surprise, then tried to cover it up: “It’s okay, it’s okay. Even though you have bipolar, I believe you can definitely do a great job.” Facing the stares of the entire class, I smiled and openly acknowledged my medical history. I directly posted photos of my hospital clearance and the enrollment agreement I signed with the university into the class group chat. [Wait, isn’t she the person featured in the latest episode of “Youth Onward” interviews?] [What “Youth Onward”?] [Here! This one, it’s trending.] [It really is her!] Soon, a classmate posted a video from “Youth Onward” into the class group chat. Many people started expressing their support for me. [Oh my god, she’s so inspiring!] [Seriously… I’m about to cry.] [Victoria, you have my vote!] Chloe watched the video in the group chat, her face turning completely black. In the end, I successfully secured a spot on the student council with the top three highest votes. The content creator behind “Youth Onward” was someone I met at 5 AM while collecting recycling on the streets. He gave me fifty bucks and asked if I would record a video interview. I was desperate for money at the time, so I agreed. In my past life, I didn’t want my bipolar history exposed, so I made an agreement with the creator to release the video only after I graduated from college. Why was it released early now? Perhaps it was the butterfly effect of being reborn? I didn’t expect it would end up helping me out so much right now. After the election, Bella was demoted from interim class president to the activities coordinator. She was very unhappy. Back in the dorm, Chloe was trying hard to comfort her: “It’s okay. Look at Victoria, her popularity was so high, but she still didn’t get class president, did she? Just a useless academic representative. ” “Being the activities coordinator is great! You interact with the professors a lot, and in the future, when you organize events, you’ll get to know all the outstanding upperclassmen. ” “Unlike me. Victoria liked your Instagram post, but she didn’t like mine. Because you’re the activities coordinator, she looks up to you, but me… ” I pulled back my bed curtain and fired right back: “Whether I become class president or not, whether it’s useless or not, is none of your damn business! ” “Like your post? You posted ‘Good things come to those who wait.’ What exactly did you want me to ‘like’ about that? ” “If you want to be a donkey, hurry up and go grind some wheat! ” “The deepest oceans have nothing on the shallowness of your mouth! ” “If I hear you talking shit about me behind my back again, I’m going to wring your neck!” I raised my hand as if I was going to slap her. Chloe broke down, her mouth turning down into a pout, and she burst into loud sobs. 5 Even more miraculously, after we had explicitly burned our bridges… Chloe actually asked me to help her do a group project. “Vicky, you’re the academic representative. I really don’t know how to do this part, can you help me with it?” I shoved my book into my backpack and glanced at her laptop. “You don’t know how to do it. How is that my problem?” “Vicky… you… I already apologized to you, why are you… ? Waaaaah… ” Chloe had another breakdown. Saint Bella arrived on the scene immediately: “Victoria, why are you bullying Chloe again? ” “Besides, this is our dorm’s group project. If it’s not done well, won’t it affect your grade too? What’s the big deal with helping out a little? ” “Chloe, ignore her! I’ll ask a senior to help us.” A senior? Isn’t that the same scumbag, Liam, who drove Chloe to suicide? I really wanted to see if, in this life, Chloe was still beyond saving. 6 Group projects were basically assigned by dorm rooms. In my past life, for the sake of living peacefully with my roommates… I ended up doing the vast majority of our group’s work by myself. But every time the grades came out, they all shared the credit equally. In this life, I decisively split from the dorm group before the assignments were finalized. Although the RA had previously rejected my request for a room transfer… He agreed to let me work independently on the project without any hesitation. To complete the project better as a solo team, I practically lived in the library for the past few days. There was a botanical garden on the first floor of the library. It had very few desks and chairs, making it the most sought-after spot in the entire building. Students either had to arrive super early to grab a seat or leave their books there in advance to reserve it. There was an unwritten rule in the “seat reserving” community: if no one showed up by 10 AM, the seat was considered vacant and could be used by others. I arrived early today, it was only 9 AM, and there were only a few people in the library. But the book I had left on my seat inside was thrown onto a seat right next to a drafty vent. I picked up my book and looked toward my original seat. It was Chloe and her boyfriend, Liam. They were staring at a laptop, looking like they were discussing the project. But they were giggling and messing around, and Liam’s hand had reached from Chloe’s shoulder all the way down to her chest. Gross. I grabbed my book, intending to head to the second-floor study room. As I walked past Chloe, I chose to ignore her. But Chloe’s voice reached my ears. “Vicky! Couldn’t find a seat? ” “If you want to sit in the botanical garden next time, you have to get here earlier. ” “My seat here was reserved by Liam super early this morning.” Hearing this, I stopped in my tracks. “You’re saying he reserved this seat super early this morning?” Liam removed his hand from Chloe’s body and sat up straight. He ran a greasy hand through his hair, nodding with what he thought was a handsome smirk. He deliberately lowered his voice: “Yeah, I got here super early today.” “Aren’t you that Victoria from ‘Youth Onward’? Call me ‘babe,’ and I’ll save a seat for you next time too.” Chloe poked Liam, clearly displeased. “I thought you only saved seats for me.” Yuck! I seriously wanted to throw up. I took my book and SMACKED it down hard on their table. “Does this book look familiar to you? ” “Does it look like the one you threw out of here bright and early this morning?” Liam glanced at my book, shaking his head, refusing to admit it. “Victoria! What do you mean by that? You’re not allowed to slander Liam!” I picked up my book, disgustedly dusting it off. “Heh, Dumb and Dumber, you guys are truly a match made in heaven.” “Victoria!” Liam slammed the table and stood up, aiming a slap right at my face! I was caught off guard. “Victoria! Let me tell you, even if you are a psycho, I’m not afraid of you! ” “This slap is me paying you back for my future mother-in-law!” It happened so suddenly, before I could even react, I was knocked to the floor. Liam lunged at me, ready to keep hitting me, but Chloe grabbed his sleeve. “Liam, don’t lower yourself to the level of a psycho.” Chloe looked like she was breaking up a fight, but the corners of her mouth were turned up in a smirk she couldn’t hide. I pushed myself up from the floor. “Alright! Since you threw the first punch, let’s go!” Under Chloe’s watchful eyes, I beat the absolute crap out of Liam. I avoided any vital organs, but I hit him where it hurt the most. Liam clutched his knees, groaning in pain, unable to stand up. Over the summer, leaving early and coming home late, manual labor had built up my muscles. While I was cleaning the martial arts studio, the master knew I was doing it to earn tuition money and took great care of me. During his free time, he taught me quite a few moves for self-defense. “Liam, are you okay? ” “Victoria?! How could you hit him? I… I’m going to tell the RA!” I dusted off my backpack and slung it over my shoulder. “Fine, go tell him, I’m ready whenever. There are security cameras here, it’s crystal clear who threw the first punch. ” “I suggest when you watch the footage, you also take a good look at exactly how he ‘reserved’ the seat this morning.” Chloe looked at Liam. Liam gritted his teeth, kept his head down, and backed out. Chloe broke down, letting out a wail and bursting into tears. 7 In the end, Chloe didn’t report the incident to the RA. But it blew up on the campus forum. An anonymous post uploaded a heavily edited video of me fighting Liam. [To steal a seat, a bipolar freshman has a manic episode and violently assaults an innocent classmate.] As soon as the post went up, it was pushed to the top of the trending page. [Psychos really are ruthless when they snap. One girl beat a guy up that badly.] [Terrifying. Psychos can go to college now? Our living environment is so dangerous.] [I know her, she’s usually very emotionally stable. Must be a misunderstanding, right?] [I’ve been to the library the past few days too. She gets there really early every day and likes to sit in the northeast corner. I remember she leaves a book to reserve her seat every day. The time on this video is clearly before 10 AM, so her seat was stolen, right?] [Even if her seat was stolen, she shouldn’t have gone crazy and hit someone.] … The video was clearly from the botanical garden’s security cameras. Usually, without written approval from the RA, it’s incredibly difficult for students to check the security footage. I had no idea who released this footage. Soon, many upperclassmen from other departments started reporting to the university administration, demanding my expulsion. My former hostile roommate, Bella, also started messaging me: [Vicky, I feel like your mental state hasn’t been great lately. Why don’t you take a leave of absence and go home to rest for a bit?] [I’m fine, no need, thanks.] I replied to Bella, but she kept relentlessly urging me to take a leave of absence. I simply muted her chat window. The incident continued to escalate until the forum admins finally locked the thread. The RA found me, demanding I go to a local hospital for a re-evaluation, stating I could only continue attending classes if I brought back a medical clearance certificate. I agreed to his demand and planned to go for the checkup the next day. But that very night, I was kicked out of the dorm by the RA and a few students he brought with him. I didn’t even have time to pack my things. “What right do you have to kick me out?” The RA looked down his nose at me: “Victoria, your current mental state poses a threat to the safety of the other students. Please stay off-campus until your test results come back. ” “You can also contact your family immediately to come to the university and handle this.” The RA knew about my family situation. Contact my family? How could I possibly call the father who repeatedly tried to get me killed? “Sir, how am I threatening the safety of other students? I brought my medical clearance before the semester started, and I signed the agreements the university required. ” “If you’re talking about the video on the campus forum, if you just go look at the full security footage, you’ll know exactly what the truth is.” The RA completely ignored my words, insisting that I leave the dorm that very night. “Then let’s let the police handle it.” I gripped my phone and started dialing. Seeing that I was about to call 911, the students pinned me down and snatched my phone. The RA threatened me: “Victoria, if you insist on blowing this up, you can forget about continuing your education here!” I clenched my fists tightly. But tears still traitorously fell down my face. Even after being reborn, could I still not escape this fate? It was only after I promised the RA I wouldn’t call the police that night and was escorted out the campus gates… That I finally got my phone back. The money in my pocket needed to be saved for the hospital checkup and the medical certificate. What was left wasn’t enough to cover a hotel room. I found an internet cafe near the campus gates and booked a computer for two consecutive nights. After getting the medical report and certificate from a local top-tier hospital, I rushed back to the university immediately. The RA looked at my medical certificate, frowned, and waved his hand, telling me to leave. I stood rooted to the spot, refusing to go. “You want a room transfer? Not possible, unless you can find a student willing to swap rooms with you yourself.” I shook my head: “Sir, did you go check the security footage from the botanical garden? That day, Liam threw the first punch, I was just acting in self-defense…” Before I could finish, the RA cut me off: “Victoria, the semester just started, and there have already been two major incidents because of your bipolar disorder. How did I get so unlucky to end up with a student like you! ” “I’m warning you, don’t cause any more trouble for me in the future, or I will personally file for your expulsion!” I tightly gripped my phone in my pocket, which was currently recording the conversation, and stayed silent.

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1 My name is Sarah. Five years into my marriage with Jean, I gave up my life to save his, leaving this world forever. The only piece of my soul I left behind was our four-year-old son, Toby. In the years that followed, Jean raised our little boy all on his own, fiercely guarding every single memory of the life we shared. That was, until a woman named Nicole walked into his life. She pursued Jean relentlessly, throwing her whole heart at him. But no matter how desperately Nicole confessed her feelings, Jean turned her down cold. “I made a promise to Sarah,” he told her. “For the rest of my life, my heart belongs entirely to her. She is my one and only wife.” I floated right beside him as a spirit, watching him, silently praying he would keep that promise. I never expected what would happen next. A massive fire broke out at Toby’s school. Nicole charged into the burning building without a second thought. She managed to save my son, but she was trapped under a falling beam and slipped into a deep coma. Jean lost every ounce of his composure. He fell to his knees beside her hospital bed, begging Nicole to open her eyes, over and over again. Nicole’s eyes remained firmly shut. But I, inexplicably, felt a violent pull. Before I knew what was happening, I was sucked directly into her body. I blinked her eyes open. The first person in my line of sight was Jean. He didn’t recognize me. With tears streaming down his face, he looked at me, or rather, the woman he thought was Nicole, and choked out a confession. “Nicole, I love you.” For a split second, I honestly thought the smoke had messed with my hearing. But Jean immediately said it again. “Nicole, I love you.” “I already talked to my parents. The second you’re out of the woods and fully recovered, we are planning the wedding.” “Thank God you’re okay…” He pressed my hand against his wet cheek, looking at me with pure, unadulterated devotion. I lay there completely paralyzed. I had no idea how to tell him that I wasn’t Nicole. I was his dead wife, Sarah. Worse yet, I had no idea how to process the crushing reality that he had genuinely fallen in love with another woman. Seeing my silence, Jean panicked and started apologizing. “I’m so sorry, Nicole. I was a fool before. I clearly had feelings for you, but I was just too much of a coward to admit it.” “I swear to you, from this day forward, I will love you and only you. Okay?” Those words were the exact same words he used when he proposed to the real me years ago. Back then, I had wrapped my arms around his neck, laughing and teasing him. “It’s a deal! If you ever change your mind, I’ll never forgive you, even if I’m dead!” And yet, here we were. All I could do was dig my fingernails into my palms, fighting back a wave of bitter tears as I tried to correct him. “But I’m not Ni…” Before the name could fully leave my lips, a tiny figure bolted into the hospital room. “Mommy! You’re finally awake!” My entire body violently jolted. I watched helplessly as my little boy threw his small arms around my torso, his eyes swollen and red from crying. Feeling the radiating heat of his small body, a massive rush of joy completely short-circuited my brain. My voice trembled uncontrollably. “What… what did you just call me?” “Can you say it one more time?” It had been so unbelievably long since I heard my Toby call me Mom. But before Toby could open his mouth again, Jean gently covered the boy’s lips, offering a patient correction. “Toby, buddy, you can’t call her that yet. Auntie Nicole hasn’t agreed to marry daddy.” “She isn’t your mom right now.” Those words hit me like a bucket of ice water. The brutal reality snapped back into place. Right now, in their eyes, I was Nicole. Even Jean couldn’t spot a single difference. How could my sweet, innocent son possibly know that his real mother was trapped inside this woman’s body? My nose stung fiercely. I lowered my gaze, trying to explain myself one more time. “Actually, I really am Toby’s mo…” Jean completely misunderstood my hesitation. He grabbed my hands, his eyes wild with excitement. “Wait, does that mean you’re saying yes? You’ll marry me?” I froze. I was just about to shake my head. But Toby let out a joyful cheer and hugged me even tighter. “Yay! That means Auntie Nicole is going to be my new mommy! Right?!” I looked at the absolute elation lighting up both of their faces. The truth withered and died in my throat. In the three agonizing years since my death, this was the first time I had seen either of them look so genuinely happy. They truly loved Nicole. As for me… I was a ghost who had been dead for three years. No matter how much it tore me apart, what right did I have to steal the happiness they so desperately wanted? My eyes burned with fresh tears. I awkwardly turned my face away and offered a single, stiff nod. “Yes.” I had no idea when my soul would be ripped away from this body. But if Nicole was the only person they wanted to see, then I would give them exactly what they wanted. 2 Hearing my answer, both father and son practically tackled me in a massive hug. Jean’s voice cracked with raw emotion. “Nicole, thank you…” “Thank you for forgiving me, and thank you for being willing to be Toby’s mom.” Toby was too young to understand the gravity of it all. He just buried his face in my chest, echoing his dad’s thank you. As I sat there, the scent clinging to their clothes drifted into my nose, leaving me entirely dazed. After all these years, they still smelled exactly like gardenias. It was my absolute favorite scent. When I was alive, I constantly bought that specific floral detergent to wash all of their laundry. Whenever I hung the clothes up to dry, Toby used to cling to my legs and grin. “Mommy smells so good! I love it!” And Jean would always pull me into his chest and whisper. “Every time I smell gardenias on you, it just makes me feel so grounded. So safe.” It was the signature scent of our little family of three. But right now, they were carrying that exact same scent while holding another woman’s body. A sickening wave of revulsion and rejection clawed at my throat. I pushed them away, holding my breath. “What is that smell on you two? It’s way too strong. It’s suffocating.” Jean lifted his sleeve to his nose, and his entire body went rigid. Toby immediately piped up to explain. “It’s gardenia flowers! Daddy says it’s because my first mommy loved…” Before he could finish, Jean clamped a hand over his mouth. “It’s just a regular detergent. If you don’t like it, I’ll throw it out and buy a new one tomorrow.” Jean looked at me with total caution, treating me like fragile glass. The very next day, the scent on their clothes completely changed. It was a sickly sweet citrus scent. The exact kind of fruity smell I absolutely despised. To make matters worse, Toby kept clinging to me, excitedly asking if I liked the new smell. Looking at his sweet, innocent face, I forced a fake smile and nodded, silently ordering myself to let go of the past. I wasn’t Sarah anymore. I had to play the role of Nicole perfectly, right up until the day she returned to claim her life. I arrived in silence, and I would leave in silence. If I did that, I could at least lie to myself. I could pretend that in my memories, our family was still as beautiful and flawless as it used to be. To the current Jean and Toby, “Nicole’s” feelings were the only things that mattered. Because he thought “Nicole” didn’t like it, Jean voluntarily took off his wedding ring, leaving behind a stark, pale indentation on his ring finger. Because he thought “Nicole” didn’t want to see any reminders of Sarah, Toby took off the custom silver locket I had personally engraved for him. He stuffed it in a drawer and never wore it again. Bit by bit, piece by piece, father and son meticulously scrubbed every trace of my existence from their lives. And I was forced to sit there and watch it happen. Right before I was discharged from the hospital, my period hit. I lay curled up in the hospital bed, shivering violently from the brutal cramps. Toby scrambled up onto the mattress and snuggled into my chest, using his little body heat to warm my aching stomach. Jean actually called out of work. He rushed all the way home just to cook a pot of warm, brown sugar pecan oatmeal for me. Everything was playing out exactly like it used to. But I knew the truth. They still hadn’t recognized me. Jean scooped up a spoonful of the hot oatmeal and brought it to my lips. “Be a good girl, eat it while it’s hot. The pain will go away soon.” It was a sweet, comforting bowl of food, but the steam rising off it made my eyes sting with unshed tears. I turned my head away. “I don’t want it.” Jean’s hand froze mid-air. His voice hitched with sudden anxiety. “But this used to be your absolute favorite. Why don’t you want it? Is your stomach acting up?” He turned around, fully prepared to hit the call button for the nurse. My voice sliced through the air and stopped him dead in his tracks. “Jean, I’m highly allergic to pecans. I’ve never touched the stuff in my life.” “Who exactly is the woman in your head right now?” 3 My dead heart suddenly sparked back to life. God knows how desperately I wanted Jean to figure out the truth. I wanted to find even the tiniest crumb of evidence that he still loved me. But he just stood there, his lips parting and closing for several agonizing seconds, completely speechless. I wasn’t allergic to pecans. Sarah loved them. But in my inherited memories, the real Nicole was severely allergic, and she had explicitly warned Jean about it multiple times. The fact that he completely forgot about her allergy… did that mean I still held the top spot in his heart? Toby looked back and forth between us. He tugged gently on Jean’s sleeve and whispered a reminder. “Daddy, the person who loves pecan oatmeal is Mommy.” My eyes flooded with heat. I bit down hard on my lower lip and looked away. I couldn’t even describe the twisted, suffocating feeling in my chest. Jean slowly set the bowl down on the nightstand. He pulled me into a tight embrace, apologizing over and over again. “I’m so sorry, Nicole… I completely forgot.” “Sarah always loved eating this. Whenever her time of the month came around, making this for her always made her smile.” “I just haven’t adjusted yet. I’m so sorry. Please, just give me a little more time. I swear I’ll memorize every single thing you like, and I’ll wipe Sarah from my memory entirely. Please?” I bit my lip so hard I tasted copper, letting the metaphorical blood drip straight down into my shattered heart. Fine. Let it be like this. I needed to stop holding onto these pathetic delusions. I was only torturing myself. I rested my head against his shoulder and gave a weak nod. “Don’t let it happen again.” Toby pressed his little face against my arm and spoke up in his sweetest voice. “Don’t worry, I’ll supervise Daddy! We’ll memorize everything about you!” They were men of their word. From that day forward, they never got “Nicole’s” preferences wrong again. After I was officially discharged, Jean brought me back to our family home. During the years I existed purely as a spirit, I had haunted this house. I knew Jean couldn’t bear to throw any of my belongings away. He had kept the house in pristine condition, looking exactly as it did the day I died. He forbade anyone from touching a single thing. Once, when Nicole shamelessly invited herself over, she accidentally knocked over a half-finished Lego castle I had been building with Toby. Jean had completely lost his mind, screaming at her to get out. Afterward, completely ignoring his usual polished dignity, he had dug through the trash bin to find the missing plastic bricks. He and Toby spent hours rebuilding it, placing it perfectly back on its display shelf. But now… I scanned the expansive living room. The Lego castle on the entryway console was gone. The custom ceramic vase I bought for the coffee table had vanished. Even the massive family portrait of the three of us that used to hang proudly above the fireplace had been taken down. The only things left were a few bare nails sticking out of the drywall, acting as a ghost of what used to be there. Every single trace of my existence had been surgically removed by Jean’s own hands. My chest caved in, leaving a hollow, echoing ache. Without thinking, I murmured aloud. “This house… it’s missing so many things.” Jean stepped up behind me, wrapping his arms securely around my waist. He spoke softly into my ear. “You’re right.” “This house is missing a hostess.” “Nicole, will you marry me?” As he spoke, a flawless, glittering diamond ring appeared directly in my line of sight. Even though I knew this exact moment was coming, an uncontrollable tremor ran through my entire body. Should I say yes? If the real Nicole were standing here, she would accept it in a heartbeat, wouldn’t she? As my thoughts spun into total chaos, Jean took a step back. He held the ring up and dropped to one knee right in the middle of the living room. “Nicole, I have never been more serious.” The very next second, a dozen people poured out from the adjacent dining room and hallways. Confetti cannons popped with a loud bang, showering us in colorful paper as our friends erupted into cheers. “Say yes! Say yes!” For a fleeting, dizzying moment, I thought I had traveled back in time to the day Jean first proposed to me. Back then, we were surrounded by this exact same crowd, cheering us on, wishing us a lifetime of happiness. And Jean had spoken his vows in front of everyone, just like he was doing now. He thanked Nicole for lighting up his dark world. He thanked Nicole for dragging him out of the abyss of his grief. And he thanked Nicole for saving his son’s life. “Sarah was the love of my past, but Nicole… you are the salvation of my entire life.” “Please, marry me.” The blinding sparkle refracting off the diamond cut sharply into my eyes. I knew Nicole would say yes. I knew I was supposed to just accept it. But in that exact moment, my throat locked up. I couldn’t force a single syllable out. What kind of woman could stand there and willingly hand her own husband over to someone else? I couldn’t do it. Seeing my frozen silence, Jean’s parents stepped forward. Their eyes were red and pleading as they approached me carefully. “Nicole, honey, we know any woman would feel hesitant about marrying a widower.” “But ever since that woman passed away, Jean has been a walking corpse. You’re the first person to bring him back to life.” “As his parents, our only wish is to see our son happy. We just want him to walk out of the past and actually live again.” “Nicole, please, won’t you say yes to our family?” 4 Looking at my former mother and father-in-law, I suddenly felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. Even they had completely, effortlessly accepted Nicole as the new woman of the house. Jean’s close friends gathered around, chiming in, urging me not to worry about his history. “Jean is the most fiercely loyal guy on the planet. Once he commits to someone, he loves them until the bitter end. You never have to worry about him changing his mind.” I stood rooted to the hardwood floor, completely dazed, a bitter smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth. Loves them until the bitter end? Never changes his mind? Then why doesn’t he love me anymore? My fingertips turned ice-cold from the emotional pain. I knew I had to make the final call. I reached my hand out toward Jean, pulling every last ounce of strength from my bones to force the words out. “Okay. I will.” His eyes lit up like fireworks. He grabbed my hand with trembling fingers and slid the heavy diamond onto my ring finger. The metal felt incredibly weighty on my skin. Yet somewhere deep inside my chest, there was a gaping, desolate void. The crowd around us clapped and cheered, wiping away happy tears as they showered us with blessings. Toby danced around our legs in a circle, totally ecstatic. “Yay! Daddy and Mommy are getting married! I have a mommy again!” Jean swept me up into a crushing hug, laughing and crying at the exact same time. “Once you’re completely healed, we’re going to have the biggest wedding this city has ever seen.” “I promise you, I’m going to give you an unforgettable day…” I felt like a wooden puppet suspended by strings. I forced my facial muscles into a stiff, unnatural smile. “Okay…” Before the word could fully register, the heavy mahogany front doors burst violently open. Two familiar figures stormed into the entryway, screaming at Jean. “What the hell do you mean, a wedding?! We absolutely forbid it!” I jumped, my head snapping toward the entrance in total shock. Dad… Mom? Toby sprinted toward them, throwing his arms around my mother’s legs. “Grandma! Grandpa! I’m getting a new mommy!” Hearing that, my parents’ faces turned dangerously dark. “What new mommy?!” “You only have one mother in this world, and her name is Sarah!” My mother marched straight past the kid, walked right up to Jean, and slapped him directly across the face. Smack. “You were the one who insisted on dragging Sarah out on that road trip! When that drunk driver crossed the median, Sarah threw her body over yours to take the impact!” “She was our only child! She wasn’t even thirty years old! She died so you could live!” “What did you promise us at her funeral?!” “You swore you would guard her memory forever and dedicate your life to raising Toby!” “My daughter hasn’t even been in the ground for three years, and you’re already rushing to get a new wife?!” “What about my little girl? Was she nothing to you?!” “How is her spirit supposed to rest in peace watching you do this!” “I’m telling you right here, right now. If you think you’re going to remarry and bring a stepmother in to raise Toby, you’ll have to do it over my dead body!” I stared at the deep wrinkles etched into my parents’ faces, at the stark white hair framing their temples. My heart physically ached, a tearing sensation ripping through my ribs. In this entire massive, cold world, my parents were the only people left who still cared about my pain. Jean kept his head bowed, taking the abuse in total silence. He was probably replaying the horrific car crash that stole my life. His face was a mask of suffocating guilt and panic. His mother immediately stepped up, screaming right back at my mom. “My son is in the prime of his life! He mourned your daughter for years, why shouldn’t he be allowed to move on?!” “Besides, Toby needs a mother! What is so wrong with bringing a new woman into the house! Can’t you see the boy wants her here?!” “Are you trying to drive my son and my grandson into an early grave just to satisfy your own grief?!” My mother’s face turned ash-gray with fury. She pointed a trembling finger at Jean’s mother. The next second, her eyes rolled back into her head, and she collapsed. My heart completely stopped. I lunged forward, catching her before she hit the floor, screaming on pure instinct. “Mom!” In the sheer chaos of the moment, nobody seemed to catch the slip of my tongue. Nobody except Jean. His pupils dilated in sheer shock, staring down at me with an expression of total, unadulterated disbelief.

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I have been feeling like there is a pair of eyes rummaging through my brain lately. It feels exactly like someone flipping through my private diary in the dead of night. Memories that should be carved into my bones are slipping away. My apartment passcode, my parents’ phone numbers, even my own name feels blurry sometimes. It all started when our new coworker, Erik, showed up. He wears crisp, tailored suits and a textbook perfect smile that makes my stomach turn. The most terrifying part happened during our project pitch. I suddenly blanked on the core algorithm steps, and he recited them word for word, exactly as I had conceptualized them in my head. “You have been a bit forgetful lately, Rainey,” he said with fake concern. “Am I?” I stared dead into his eyes. “Then how do you know the exact ideas I have never told a single soul about?” He panicked, averted his gaze, and practically ran out of the conference room. I finally understood. He was using some kind of neural interface to hack my mind. My three years of blood, sweat, and tears were being siphoned away drop by drop. This monster in a tailored suit was using my intellect as a stepping stone to climb the corporate ladder. But he didn’t know one crucial detail. Memory transfer is a two-way street. While he was digging through my head for secrets, I caught a glimpse of his own filthy skeletons. 01 Erik parachuted into the company three months ago. He is tall, maybe six foot two, always rocking a perfectly pressed suit and flashing that blinding, rehearsed smile. The girls in the office swooned over him, gossiping about his relationship status by the water cooler. But he rubbed me the wrong way from day one. It was a subtle feeling. The way he looked at me wasn’t friendly. He looked at me like I was a commodity on a shelf, calculating my exact market value. I never thought it would get this bad. I got booted from the core engineering team and tossed onto a dead-end project. Meanwhile, Erik, a guy who hadn’t even been here a hundred days, took over the exact project I had poured three years of my life into. I dragged my heavy feet home tonight, only to realize I couldn’t even remember my own front door code. I had to pull up my phone notes just to get inside. The second the door clicked shut, I collapsed onto my bed, tears spilling out uncontrollably. I unlocked my phone to call my parents and vent, but my mind drew a complete blank on their numbers. I scrolled through my contacts, realizing with absolute horror that I couldn’t even tell which number belonged to my dad and which to my mom. It was terrifying. I grabbed a notebook and frantically started scribbling down the day’s events. “April 12. Project pitch failed. Severe memory glitches.” “Erik knew things only I could possibly know. I suspect he has something to do with my missing memories.” I ripped the page out and taped it right above my pillow. Starting tomorrow, I was going to document every single anomaly. My phone buzzed. It was Maggie from HR. “Rainey, are you okay? That meeting today was rough.” “Maggie, I think I am losing my mind.” I spilled everything about my memory gaps. The line went dead quiet for a few seconds. “You need to see a neurologist. I will go with you.” “It is not a medical issue.” I pulled at my hair in frustration. “I swear it is Erik. He knows what is inside my head.” “Are you saying he snooped through your files?” “No. He knows ideas I haven’t written down anywhere. It is like he literally stole my memories.” Maggie stayed silent for a much longer time. “Rainey, listen to yourself. That is completely impossible.” “I know it sounds insane, but I need you to trust me. Just do a deep background check on Erik, please?” “I will see what I can do. But you seriously need to see a doctor.” I hung up and started tearing my apartment apart. I dug up every single old work journal and reviewed every project detail, absolutely terrified I would wake up tomorrow and forget something crucial again. That night, I had a bizarre dream. I was standing in a strange, high-end apartment, staring at a monitor filled with code. My fingers were flying across the keyboard, tweaking a predictive algorithm. But it didn’t feel like my hands. They were the hands of a man. Then I walked into the bathroom. The face staring back at me in the mirror was Erik. 02 The next morning, I showed up at the office two hours early and made a beeline for the main conference room. I had an epiphany last night. If my memories were really bleeding into Erik’s brain, he should be able to answer a question only I knew the answer to. I needed to test this crazy theory. I grabbed a marker and drew a complex math equation on the whiteboard. It was a personal shorthand system I invented back in college. Absolutely nobody else could decipher it. I snapped a quick photo on my phone and erased it spotless. At exactly nine o’clock, Erik strolled into the bullpen, looking sharp and wearing his signature fake smile. “Morning, Rainey.” He gave a polite nod, his tone dripping with a winner’s superiority. “Morning, Erik.” I squeezed out a smile faker than his. “Thanks for bailing me out in the meeting yesterday.” “Anytime.” He stopped by the espresso machine. “You have been looking pretty exhausted lately, though. Memory loss is usually the first sign of severe burnout.” He heavily emphasized the words “memory loss”, a sly glint flashing in his eyes. “Maybe.” I kept my voice casual. “Hey, by the way, what do you make of this formula?” I held up the photo I just took. Erik glanced at the screen, and his face instantly tightened. “That is your custom shorthand for the core predictive logic. You have been using that exact syntax since your sophomore year of college.” My stomach dropped to the floor. There was zero chance he could know that. Unless… “How do you know that?” My voice actually shook. He narrowed his eyes. “You must have mentioned it to me at some point.” He quickly turned on his heel and walked away, his stiff posture betraying his panic. I immediately pulled out my pocket notebook and logged the interaction. A horrifying reality was taking shape in my mind. My memories were genuinely being hijacked. At noon, Maggie dragged me to a quiet coffee shop down the street. “I dug up some dirt,” she whispered, leaning over the table. “His resume is completely cooked.” “He claimed he spent five years at Google, but I reached out to a buddy in their HR. He was there for two years, tops.” “And he left his last startup incredibly abruptly. Word on the street is he caused a massive disaster on a classified project.” “What kind of project?” I asked. “No idea. They scrubbed the data clean,” Maggie frowned. “But here is the real kicker. His graduate research at MIT wasn’t in Artificial Intelligence. His thesis was on Neural Interfaces and Memory Storage.” The ceramic mug nearly slipped out of my hand. “There is more,” Maggie continued. “I pulled the security logs for the building. For the past month, he has been staying late almost every single night. He usually doesn’t badge out until three or four in the morning.” I flipped open my notebook, matching the dates of my memory glitches. A perfect match. Every single time I woke up with a mental fog, Erik had been alone in the office until the early hours of the morning. “Maggie, do you believe me now? About the memories?” She hesitated. “I don’t know if the sci-fi stuff is possible. But I know you wouldn’t get this paranoid over nothing.” “If your gut says he is dirty, then he is dirty.” “I need hard proof. I am staying late tonight to see exactly what he is doing in the dark.” 03 That night, I packed my bag and pretended to leave for the day, but I actually just camped out at a diner across the street. By ten-thirty, the entire building was mostly dark. I slipped back in through the loading dock, using a spare keycard I borrowed from Gary, the night shift security guard. Gary was a sweet older guy who always appreciated the donuts I brought him on Fridays. “Rainey? Burning the midnight oil again?” “Yeah, tight deadline. Hey, is the new director still up there?” “Oh yeah. Guy practically lives here.” Gary lowered his voice. “He is a weird one. Always locks himself in the back lab and refuses to let the cleaning crew inside.” “The lab? What is he even doing in there?” “Beats me. Claims it is highly classified.” My suspicion deepened. The lab was supposed to be a shared testing space. Who gave Erik the right to claim it as his personal fortress? I took the service elevator up and crept barefoot toward my cubicle. The main floor was pitch black, except for a sliver of blue light spilling from under the lab door at the far end of the hall. I tiptoed closer, holding my breath, and peeked through the frosted glass panel. Erik had his back to the door. He was tinkering with a massive piece of hardware I had never seen before. It looked like a sleek, metallic helmet, wired directly into a stack of high-powered servers. The main monitor displayed a dizzying stream of raw data flowing into a glowing 3D model of a human brain. I pulled out my phone and quietly snapped a few photos. Suddenly, Erik spun around. I threw myself flat against the wall, but I was a second too slow. “Who is out there?” he snapped. I pressed my hands over my mouth, my heart hammering violently against my ribs. His heavy footsteps echoed as he marched toward the door. Just as the handle clicked, a voice called out from the opposite end of the corridor. “Mr. Mercer? Your food delivery is downstairs.” It was Gary. The footsteps stopped, then pivoted away. I seized the window and bolted into the women’s restroom, shaking uncontrollably. Once the coast was clear, I snuck out of the building and ran all the way to my apartment, too terrified to even look over my shoulder. Safe inside, I immediately checked my camera roll. Most of the shots were blurry garbage, but one captured the main monitor perfectly. I zoomed in. Right above the glowing 3D brain model was a distinct file name. Target: Rainey Woods. My phone hit the floor. I was right. Erik was literally hacking into my mind. But how was he doing it without touching me? And why me? My hands shook as I grabbed my notebook. I logged everything I saw, then set three aggressive alarms, absolutely terrified of what I might forget by morning. Right before I shut my eyes, I made a desperate move. I wrote a message on the last page, ripped it out, and shoved it under my mattress. “If you are reading this, remember. Erik is stealing your memories. The proof is in your photo gallery.” 04 I woke up feeling groggy. I couldn’t remember my dreams, but one specific visual was burned into my mind. I was in a dark, unfamiliar room, staring at a computer screen, editing a highly encrypted file. The document title was “Rainey Woods Memory Extraction Progress”. I bolted upright in bed, grabbed my notebook, and read the entry from last night. Seeing the photos on my phone brought the entire nightmare crashing back. I called Maggie immediately. “Maggie, I need a massive favor. Dig up everything you can find on Erik’s MIT research. Neural interfaces, memory extraction. Leave no stone unturned.” “What happened? You sound like you are about to have a panic attack.” “I saw him in the lab last night. He has this insane rig, and my name was literally on the monitor.” “I am completely positive he is using experimental tech to download my brain.” She went quiet. “Are you sure you didn’t just see a project file?” “Maggie, please. Just find the files.” “Okay. I will look. Just watch your back.” Hanging up, I made a solid decision. I was going to play the clueless victim today, but I was setting a lethal trap. When I got to work, I took a deliberate detour past Erik’s office. He wasn’t at his desk. His workspace was sterile, wiped completely clean. The only personal item was a heavy, biometric briefcase. I was just debating if I should risk touching it when a smooth voice echoed behind me. “Looking for something, Rainey?” I spun around, keeping my face perfectly neutral. “Oh, hey Erik. I brought over the weekly metrics, but I wasn’t sure if I should just leave them on your chair.” He took the invisible “metrics” from my empty hand with a knowing, condescending smirk. “Thanks. But maybe knock next time.” “Of course. Sorry for intruding.” I turned to walk away. “Hold on,” he called out. “Sleep well last night? Have any… vivid dreams?” My heart skipped a beat, but I forced a look of pure confusion. “Not really. Slept like a rock. Why?” “Just making conversation.” That slick, fake smile made me want to punch him. Back at my desk, I executed my plan. I opened my code editor and created a massive file named “Core Algorithm Final Build”. I stuffed it with thousands of lines of incredibly complex, totally useless garbage code. I pretended to review it obsessively, waiting to see if he would take the bait. At lunch, I faked a bathroom trip and looped past his glass office. Sure enough, he was glued to his monitors, typing frantically with a disgustingly smug look on his face. At three o’clock, our CEO, Mr. Harrison, called the engineering heads into the boardroom. Erik sat at the right hand of the boss, practically glowing with confidence. He shot me a smug glance across the table. “Alright team,” Mr. Harrison started. “We pitch the algorithm prototype to the venture capitalists next week.” “Erik, where do we stand?” Erik stood up, buttoning his suit jacket, and projected his laptop to the big screen. “We are in perfect shape. I just finished optimizing the final core logic, and the efficiency metrics are blowing our projections out of the water.” He began flipping through a deck of complex diagrams and data sets. It was word-for-word the garbage data I had planted in my fake file that morning. I clenched my fists under the mahogany table. He took the bait. The second the meeting wrapped, I texted Maggie. “Massive breakthrough. Meet me after work.” She replied instantly. “I have something huge too. See you at six.” At seven, Maggie drove us to a run-down diner on the edge of town, making sure nobody from the office could track us. “I pulled some serious strings,” she said, sliding a thick manila folder across the sticky table. “His MIT project was called ‘Cognitive Extraction and Transfer Protocols’. The university shut it down three years ago for severe ethical violations.” “His lead professor testified that the tech violated basic human rights and had terrifying potential for corporate espionage.” “I knew it!” I flipped through the classified documents, my pulse racing. “He is using that exact tech to strip-mine my brain!” “It gets worse.” Maggie pointed at a redacted NDA form. “His last employer? Horizon Dynamics. Our biggest market rival.” I sucked in a sharp breath. “He is a corporate rat.” “Exactly. I talked to my industry contacts. Horizon has been trying to launch a predictive model just like ours.” “But their backend is years behind us. If he steals your technical knowledge…” “He hands them the keys to crush us,” I finished her sentence. “And the dead-end project I am on right now? It actually houses the foundational architecture for our entire ecosystem.” “We have to take this to Mr. Harrison.” I shook my head. “Without hard proof, Harrison will laugh us out of the room. He thinks Erik walks on water.” “Then what do we do?” I stared at my cold coffee. “I have a plan.” “If he wants to dig around in my head, I am going to serve him something incredibly toxic.”

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The year my mother and father’s mistress fell to their deaths, I cut off my family and followed Jake to New York. Broke back then, he gave me everything after years of struggle. Near the anniversary of my mother’s death, he said, “Anna, I’m moving the company to London. Will you be upset?” Touched, I told him to go ahead and set things up. Two months later, I was pregnant. I secretly flew to London to surprise him. At his townhouse, I heard a familiar voice—Sophie, my half-sister, the other woman’s daughter. “Honey, are we staying here?” she asked. Jake replied, “Yes. You and the baby are here. I couldn’t leave.” My blood ran cold. I hid as they came out. He helped her, her bump clearly showing. He fussed over her, calling himself an overprotective first-time dad. The way he looked at her was how he once looked at me. After they left, I wandered to my mother’s old house and sat in the dark until Jake called. “Anna,” he asked gently, “sleeping okay?” I couldn’t speak. “No, Jake. I haven’t been feeling well lately. When are you coming back to New York?” “Not feeling well? What’s wrong? Did you go see a doctor?” He sounded so frantic. So worried. If I hadn’t seen that devastating scene with my own eyes, I would have instantly comforted him, told him I was fine, told him not to stress. “I can’t sleep. I have no appetite, and I keep throwing up. Jake… I think I’m pregnant.” The line went dead silent. After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke. His tone was tight, edged with agitation. “Anna, I’m right in the middle of the most chaotic phase of the corporate move. This is a really bad time for a baby.” He paused, forcing his voice to soften. “Be a good girl. The pregnancy is still early. Go to a clinic and take care of it. Once we’re fully settled back in the UK, we can plan for a family. Okay?” I let out a broken laugh, swiping at the wetness completely covering my face. “Are you saying it’s a bad time for a baby, or is it just a bad time for my baby?” “What the hell is that supposed to mean! I told you, the timing is terrible. Why can’t you just be understanding for once?” I hung up the phone. I opened my laptop, pulled up the UK visa application site, and began filling out the forms. Under marital status, I selected ‘Married’. A line of glaring red text popped up on the screen. “The information provided does not match system records. Please verify and resubmit.” Thinking I had typed the marriage certificate number wrong, I entered it again. Same red text. I stared at the glowing screen for several seconds. My fingers were trembling uncontrollably as I clicked the dropdown menu and changed it to ‘Single’. Approved. So, when Sophie called him her husband, she meant it legally. And the courthouse wedding Jake and I had in Brooklyn three years ago was a complete fake. When we got “married,” Jake had told me the process in the States was incredibly streamlined. No officiant needed, no witnesses required, just signing some papers and getting a certificate. I had trusted him implicitly. I never harbored a single doubt. It turned out he had been playing me for a fool from the very beginning. I booked the next flight back to New York. I dug out that flimsy, pathetic excuse for a marriage certificate. The whole room started spinning. When I finally opened my eyes again, I was blinded by hospital white. “Anna, you’re awake!” Seeing the mix of anxiety and relief in Jake’s eyes made my stomach violently turn. I weakly raised my fists, pummeling his chest. “Why! Why did you lie to me! The marriage certificate is fake! It’s all fake! You legally married Sophie in London. I saw everything! You’re a piece of trash, Jake!” A flash of pure panic crossed his face. “Anna… please calm down. Just let me explain…” Smack. My palm collided with his cheek, draining the last ounce of my strength. Jake pinned my wrists down, the words spilling out of him in a rushed frenzy. “Sophie had a terrible life. Everywhere she went, people treated her like dirt because she was an illegitimate child. Your dad came to me. He begged me to give her a legitimate status. But I love you, Anna. It’s always been you. Once Sophie has the baby, I’ll divorce her immediately, and we’ll get properly married…” I clutched my head, a raw scream tearing from my throat. “Her mother killed my mother! Did you forget that?! My mother paid for your college tuition! Why would you help our enemy? Why!” Jake yanked my hands away. A look of deep impatience settled over his features, and his volume spiked. “Her mother is dead too! Anna, can you not have an ounce of empathy? You’re both victims in this, there is no right or wrong. You have me for the rest of your life. She has absolutely nothing. I just felt sorry for her. I couldn’t let my gratitude to your mother blind me to basic human decency.” I went completely still. I looked at him, my eyes devoid of anything but dead ash. “I’m going back to London.” There were too many things I needed to uncover. The car ride from Heathrow Airport headed toward the suburbs. “That townhouse is in Sophie’s name. I’ve arranged a new place for you,” Jake explained from the driver’s seat. “How many months along is she?” The car jerked to a violent halt. I slammed my head against the dashboard. Pain and dizziness hit me simultaneously. “What are you trying to do?” he snapped. In the past, if I even got a paper cut, he would coddle me for hours. Now, his only concern was whether I posed a threat to Sophie. I laughed out loud. “When exactly did you two start screwing each other? Three years ago? Five?” Humiliation tightened Jake’s jaw. “Anna, what’s done is done. Digging up the past is pointless. If you want to keep your baby, I won’t force you to get rid of it. But I’m warning you, you will not lay a finger on Sophie’s child.” That last sentence was a flat-out threat. I thought my heart was already dead, but those words still sent a vicious, stabbing pain straight through my chest. The second I walked into the new house, I saw Sophie. She was wearing a tight knit maxi dress, proudly jutting out her belly, standing right in the middle of the living room like she owned the place. “Sis, you’re back!” Jake immediately rushed to her side, supporting her lower back. His tone was laced with gentle reprimand. “Why didn’t you stay home and rest? What are you doing here?” Sophie smiled softly, trailing her fingers down his arm. “The baby has been so good today, not kicking too hard. Don’t be such a worrywart.” Jake pinched her nose. “You’re acting like a kid yourself. I swear I can’t handle you.” Sophie shot a sideways glance at me, acting entirely bashful. “Stop it, you’re embarrassing me. My sister is right there.” I stood there like an unwanted guest, forced to watch their disgusting display of domestic bliss. Despite my best efforts, my eyes burned with hot tears. A dull ache started pulsing in my lower abdomen. “Does the deed to this house have my name on it?” I asked. Jake guided Sophie to the plush sofa, settling her down before looking at me. “Of course it’s yours.” I placed a protective hand over my stomach and took a deep breath. “In that case, I want everyone who doesn’t belong here to get out of my house.” Jake’s brow furrowed. Sophie’s eyes instantly welled up with tears. “It’s my fault. I just missed you so much since we haven’t seen each other in forever. If you don’t want me here, Sis, I’ll leave right now.” She made a dramatic show of struggling to stand up, which sent Jake into a full panic. “Sophie is your younger sister. You shouldn’t treat her like this.” The rage I had been suppressing violently boiled over. I screamed at the top of my lungs. “I don’t have a sister! My mother only gave birth to one daughter!” Sophie buried her face in Jake’s chest, her voice trembling with manufactured sobs. “Hubby, just let me go home. Please don’t upset her anymore.” “I’ll drive you back.” He supported her weight as they walked past me, dropping his voice into a low, disappointed register. “I really hope you can get your emotions under control.” The front door clicked shut. I collapsed onto the couch, buried my face in my hands, and cried until I was completely hollowed out. Jake didn’t come back that night. Instead, my phone lit up with a video message from Sophie. [My pregnancy is making things difficult, but he was so worried about my needs, he insisted on helping me out like this.] The video showed them in bed. I didn’t need to watch the rest. [Sis, do you think he’ll be this attentive when your belly gets big too?] A foul wave of nausea hit the back of my throat. I bolted to the bathroom, dry heaving over the toilet bowl. Everything that had happened over the past few weeks felt like a twisted fever dream. I honestly didn’t know what my next move should be. Suddenly, there was a tiny flutter in my belly. It was a kick. My baby’s first movement. Right then and there, I made my decision. I was keeping this child. But this baby would have absolutely nothing to do with Jake. The next morning, I went straight to the sprawling estate of the man I had disowned. My biological father, Richard. “I’m here to take back the shares of the family trust my mother left for me.” A flicker of guilt crossed Richard’s face. “When you ran off five years ago, I already transferred your mother’s portion to Sophie.” My stomach plummeted. “That belonged to my mother! What right did you have to give it to the daughter of a homewrecker!” “Jake knew about it. In fact, it was his suggestion.” Jake… When his tech company went public in New York, I had asked him to help me fly back to London to reclaim my mother’s shares. At the time, he told me Richard had used a corporate loophole to buy them out at a rock-bottom price, and that he could only salvage a cash payout for me. Why? My mother had paid for his entire Ivy League education. He used to tell me she was like a second mother to him. He promised her he would protect me for the rest of his life. How could a human being rot so completely from the inside out? When I got back to the house, Jake was already there. He walked over, reaching out to grab my hand. I sidestepped, letting his fingers grasp empty air. “Exactly how many things are you hiding from me?” He looked me dead in the eye, perfectly composed. “Aside from marrying Sophie, absolutely nothing.” I lost it. I threw myself at him, slamming my fists into his chest. “Liar! Liar! You told my father to give my mother’s trust fund to Sophie! You gaslighted me for years! Who the hell are you, Jake? If you were skilled enough to play me for five years, why didn’t you have the guts to lie to me for the rest of my life!” “Anna, stop it! You have me! I’ll make sure you never have to worry about money for as long as you live. But Sophie has nothing. She needed a safety net. Can you just let this go? We still have a life to build together. If you keep acting like a hysterical maniac every single day, who could possibly stand being around you?” “If you can’t stand it, then get the hell out! I never want to see your face again! Ah…” A sharp, tearing pain ripped through my stomach. I doubled over. “Take me… to the hospital…” Jake’s face drained of color. He reached out to catch me, but his phone rang. “Hubby, my stomach is hurting so bad… please come back, I’m so scared…” His entire demeanor shifted in a heartbeat. “Don’t move! I’m on my way!” He looked down at me. “Anna, Sophie is further along, she can’t handle any stress. Stop throwing tantrums. Let me go check on her, and I’ll come right back to you.” Without a backward glance, he sprinted out the door. “Jake…” I pulled out my phone with trembling, sweaty fingers and dialed emergency services. “The baby is fine,” the doctor told me later. “A few days of bed rest and you’ll be okay. But you cannot afford these massive emotional spikes. The baby feels whatever the mother feels. For the sake of your child, you need to find a way to stay calm.” I exhaled a massive, shaky breath. “Thank you, doctor.” During my days recovering in the sterile hospital room, Jake didn’t call once. Instead, Sophie bombarded my phone with taunts. “All I had to do was say the baby kicked, and he lost his mind with worry. Sis, there’s no point staying by his side as a pregnant mistress with no legal standing. You should just leave. He’s never going to divorce me.” For the sake of the life growing inside me, I locked my phone away and forced myself to breathe through the anger. Once I was discharged and back at the house, I started packing. I was leaving. I would figure out the rest later. Just as I zipped up my suitcase, Sophie let herself in. “Glad to see you finally came to your senses, Sis. But you probably still have some lingering questions. I came over to clear things up for you.” She looked down, gently stroking her swollen belly. Her voice was terrifyingly soft. “Actually, the night before you two flew out to the States? We slept together.” The words hit me like a physical blow. “You must think it’s impossible, right? Since he hated me so much back then. I went to his apartment with a bottle of whiskey to say goodbye. I told him I had no mother, I’d never get a dime of the family money, and I was doomed to be mocked as an illegitimate bastard for the rest of my life. “He felt sorry for me. He drank glass after glass. When he got drunk, it just… happened naturally. “But Sis, do you really think a black-out drunk man can perform? He knew it was me the whole time. “So you see, you lost to me before you even got on that plane.” I stood glued to the floor. I had imagined a thousand different timelines, but I never thought the betrayal ran this deep. On our flight to New York, Jake had been incredibly distracted. I thought he was just anxious about leaving his home country. Now I knew he was leaving a piece of his heart behind. It was pathetic. I had spent the last five years treating him as my safe harbor. Trusting him unconditionally. I was nothing but a spectacular, colossal joke. Seeing the devastation on my face, Sophie smiled. She slowly pushed up the sleeve of her designer cardigan, revealing an exquisite, vintage Cartier bangle on her wrist. That was my mother’s heirloom. When the homewrecker stole it and sold it years ago, it vanished. Later, I heard it surfaced at a private auction in London. I had begged Jake to fly back and bid on it for me. He had returned looking absolutely gutted, telling me he got outbid by an anonymous buyer. Because his startup was struggling, I swallowed my heartbreak and comforted him. I told him if my mother was watching over us, the bracelet would find its way back to me eventually. “Figured it out yet?” Sophie whispered. “He fought tooth and nail in a bidding war to buy this for me. And he lied straight to your face. From the very beginning, you’ve always been second place.” I lunged at her. “Give it back! Give it back to me!” We grappled. In the chaotic shoving, my foot slipped. I crashed hard onto the hardwood floor. A blinding, agonizing cramp seized my lower abdomen. A thick, terrifying warmth spread between my legs. The metallic scent of blood hit the air. My baby… Sophie immediately threw herself onto the floor and started screaming at the top of her lungs. “Ah! It hurts! Sis, why did you push me?!” “Sophie! What happened?! Don’t be scared, I’ll get you to the hospital right now!” Jake had arrived. He didn’t even look at me. He only had eyes for her. Clutching my stomach, fighting through the blinding agony, I begged him. “I’m bleeding… my baby is dying…” Jake finally turned his head. His eyes were a twisted mixture of disappointment and pure rage. His voice dropped to a sinister, chilling octave I had never heard before. “If anything happens to Sophie or my child, I will make you pay.” “Don’t go…” I watched helplessly as Jake scooped Sophie into his arms and bolted. Before he turned the corner, Sophie’s lips curled into a victorious smirk. She silently mouthed the words: You lose again.

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I was reborn. Brought back to the exact moment the hospital laboratory went up in flames. Fire devoured everything in sight. Christian and I were trapped inside the burning room. Then Stella appeared. She was my girlfriend. But without a single second of hesitation, she chose to save Christian first, treating me like I was completely invisible. I did not stop her. I did not beg. Because the memories of my past life were still burned into my brain. Back then, I revealed my secret identity as the hospital director’s son, using her career to force her to save me. Christian was left behind in that inferno forever. Afterward, she weaponized my guilt, slowly draining every single cent of my family’s wealth. In the end, she locked me inside a lab and set the room on fire. As I begged for my life in sheer despair, she flashed a twisted, demonic smile. “Rowan! If you hadn’t used your family’s power to threaten me, Christian would never have died that horrible death!” “Every ounce of pain he felt in those flames, I am going to make you pay back a thousand times over!” This time, I chose to let her have exactly what she wanted. And in doing so, I would save myself. … 01 A deafening crash shook the room. The heavy steel cabinet slammed into my body, the agonizing pain instantly snapping me fully awake. Ignoring the blinding agony, I desperately tried to make sense of my surroundings. Thick, toxic smoke forced my eyes shut. I could only cover my mouth, coughing so hard my lungs felt like they were bleeding. A dull, throbbing pain radiated from my right leg. I instinctively threw my arms over my head to protect myself. “No!” But my arms, which had been charred to the bone in my past life, were perfectly intact. How was this possible? Before my brain could process anything, a frantic, desperate voice pierced through the roar of the flames. “Christian! Christian! Are you okay?!” Why did that voice sound so agonizingly familiar? A second later, Christian’s weak, pathetic voice drifted over. “Stella… please help me…” I forced my head up in total disbelief. Through the haze, I saw Stella kneeling next to Christian, frantically shoving a fallen desk off his body. Watching the two of them, I literally couldn’t catch my breath. Wait. Wasn’t I just locked in a lab, burning to a crisp while Stella laughed at me? The realization hit me so hard I curled into a ball, my entire body violently shaking. From the lab doorway, my best friend Ben screamed until his voice cracked. “Stella! Are you completely out of your mind?! Save Rowan! He is your boyfriend!” The raw heat on my skin and the smoke stinging my eyes made it undeniably real. This wasn’t a nightmare. I was reborn. Brought back to the very day Christian, the hospital’s golden boy, and I were trapped in the fire. With a loud scrape of metal, Stella finally pushed the desk away. Without so much as a glance in my direction, she hauled Christian up and dragged him toward the exit. A bitter, mocking laugh escaped my throat. In my last life, this was exactly what she did. I was supposed to be the man she loved, but her eyes only ever saw him. It made sense. Christian was gorgeous. He was practically worshipped by the staff, and rumors constantly swirled that he was the sole heir to the Harrington Medical Empire. Even if Stella wasn’t single, she had probably fallen for him a long time ago. I struggled to stand, but the steel cabinet had my leg pinned to the floor. Shards of broken glass had sliced my calf open, and blood was pooling beneath me. I couldn’t move an inch. Stella finally seemed to notice I existed. But there was zero concern in her eyes. Only pure annoyance. She wrinkled her nose. “Christian is the sole heir to the Harrington family. If he dies here, this entire hospital goes down with him!” “I am looking at the bigger picture!” “Your injuries aren’t even that bad. Once I get Christian to safety, I will come back for you.” I laughed again. If I hadn’t already lived through this hell once, I might have actually believed her garbage excuse about “the bigger picture.” I was covered in my own blood, yet to her, my injuries “weren’t that bad.” Ben didn’t hesitate. He tried to charge straight into the fire, but a group of panicked nurses dragged him back. “Ben! Stop! The lab is full of combustible chemicals! It’s going to blow!” They were right. In my memory, this room had roughly fifteen minutes before it detonated. In my past life, after I was dragged out, I immediately screamed for everyone to evacuate, saving dozens of lives. Stella had actually wanted to run back in for Christian, but the flames grew too wild, and she chickened out. So why the hell would I ever believe she was coming back for me this time? I knew she wouldn’t. But I refused to drag the people who actually cared about me down into the grave. I propped myself up on my bloody elbows, screaming at the door with everything I had. “Ben, stay back! It’s going to blow! All of you, run!” Hearing the word “blow,” Stella froze in her tracks. She snapped her head back, glaring at me with eyes so cold she looked like a total stranger. “Rowan, since when did you become such a manipulative liar?!” “The fire department will be here in half an hour to contain this. If you scream about explosions, what are all the colleagues outside going to think of me?!” “Can’t you be a little more like Christian and show some actual basic human decency?!” Her absolute hypocrisy made my blood boil. “You didn’t call me manipulative when you were in my bed!” Hearing that, Christian weakly tugged at Stella’s collar, his voice trembling. “Stella, it hurts so much…” The moment Christian spoke, Stella immediately broke eye contact with me, her gaze softening entirely. “Hold on, Christian. I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.” And just like that, she practically carried him out the door. She never looked back. 02 I gritted my teeth and pushed against the crushing weight of the cabinet. A blinding, drilling pain shot up my spine. But compared to being burned alive in my past life, this was absolutely nothing. Watching Stella abandon me, Ben collapsed to his knees in the hallway, his face pale with disbelief. “Stella! You are sick in the head!” “The Chief of Medicine is going to ruin you for this!” Ben was the only person in the entire hospital who knew my real identity. But his threat only earned a cruel, mocking sneer from Stella. “The Chief is going to ruin me? Hilarious.” “Christian is the only son of the Harrington Medical group! If he dies, the Chief will be the one begging for mercy!” I dragged my bleeding body through the narrow gap beneath the cabinet. The jagged edges tore my wound open further, soaking my clothes in fresh blood. But I didn’t care. I needed to live. Seeing the clock ticking down, I screamed at Ben. “Stop talking to her! Get out of here!” I would never forget the look in Stella’s eyes when she poured gasoline over my head in my past life. There was no love left. Only absolute, psychotic hatred. She ignored my begging. She ignored our years together. She just struck the match. That was when I realized she had blamed me for Christian’s death every single day since the fire. She despised me. Before I could fully shake off that agonizing memory, Ben broke through the crowd and charged straight into the burning room. “Rowan! Stay with me!” Toxic smoke filled my lungs, blurring my vision. The only clear thing in the world was Ben’s figure pushing through the orange flames. “Are you insane?! Get out!” I roared. Ben ignored me. He gritted his teeth, hoisted half my weight onto his shoulder, and began dragging me toward the exit. The blistering heat scorched our skin. I watched a lock of his hair catch fire, glowing with orange embers, but he acted like he couldn’t feel a thing. He just kept pulling. Looking at his soot-stained face, a massive wave of guilt crashed over me. I weakly lifted my arm to check my watch. Time was up. If we didn’t move now, we were dead. I took a deep, ragged breath and screamed in his ear. “Listen to me! I am going to count down from three. When I hit one, we dive for the door. Do not look back at me, do you understand?!” Ben didn’t even turn his head. “Keep screaming! I am not letting go of you!” A knot of emotion tightened in my throat. I stopped arguing and locked my eyes on the doorway. Our only way out. Three! Two! One! “Jump!” I roared with every ounce of strength left in my broken body, dragging Ben with me as we launched ourselves through the door. Boom! The exact second we cleared the threshold, a catastrophic explosion detonated behind us. The massive shockwave blasted us across the hallway. My eardrums felt like they had ruptured. My vision went completely white. I couldn’t see, I couldn’t hear. Just a high-pitched, endless ringing echoing in my skull. “Rowan! Rowan! Can you hear me?!” I don’t know how long I blacked out, but Ben’s panicked voice eventually broke through the static. I forced my eyes open. “I’m fine… just my leg…” Ben followed my gaze down. His face instantly drained of color. “It’s bad. Don’t look at it. Just… wait right here!” He scrambled to his feet and sprinted down the hall. A few minutes later, Ben returned with a team of colleagues carrying a stretcher. When they saw the state of my leg, every single one of them gasped. One of the male nurses covered his mouth. “Oh my god… how many stitches is that going to take?!” My entire body felt shattered, but my mind was violently clear. As they wheeled me past the emergency triage, I saw Stella. She had her arms wrapped tenderly around Christian’s shoulders, whispering sweet comfort into his ear, acting like the horrors of the last twenty minutes never happened. Acting like I didn’t exist. The head nurse, who had always treated me well, began examining my wounds. She shook her head, her eyes brimming with tears. “Rowan… what kind of karma is this? You have so many fractured bones. It’s going to take at least a year of physical therapy to walk right…” Her voice cracked into a sob. “Thank God your right hand is safe. Once you heal, you can still operate.” I managed a weak, bloodstained smile, wanting to comfort her, but the pain robbed me of my voice. The head nurse lowered her voice, glancing nervously toward the triage bay. “That Christian guy… I heard it’s just a few minor scratches! And look at Dr. Stella treating him like he’s dying. Disgusting…” Hearing that, Ben completely snapped. He marched right up to triage, pointing a shaking finger directly at Stella’s face. “Stella! You make me sick to my stomach!” Before Ben could even finish his sentence, Christian let out a pathetic, breathy cough. “Stella… I’m feeling really weak…” Stella immediately went into panic mode, stroking his hair. “Just hold on, Christian. The specialists will be here any second.” Then, she slowly looked up, glaring daggers at Ben. “Rowan is fine, isn’t he?!” “Rowan is my boyfriend. Whatever happens between us is our business. Why do you always have to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong?!” I stared at Stella’s repulsive, self-righteous face from my stretcher. My voice was hoarse, but it cut through the room like a knife. “We are done.” “We are breaking up.” Ben nodded aggressively. “Good! No point reasoning with trash!” Stella froze. She clearly hadn’t expected me to drop the hammer in front of everyone. Her brow furrowed in deep annoyance. “Rowan, what is your problem now? Are you playing games with me?” I let out a cold, raspy laugh. “Playing games? You aren’t worth the effort.” I forced the tears back, staring dead at Christian hiding behind her. “You would rather save another man than save my life. And you have the nerve to call yourself my girlfriend?!” Christian, a grown man, immediately forced tears into his eyes like a victim. “Rowan… how could you say that to her?” “She just knows you’re stronger than me. She believed in you. She simply chose to save the person who needed her the most…” The ER erupted into chaotic whispers. Stella’s aggressive defense and Christian’s pathetic weeping drew a massive crowd of onlookers. “Well, the golden boy has a point. He’s so fragile, obviously he needed help first!” “Exactly. Dr. Stella was just making the logical choice. Why is Dr. Rowan being so incredibly bitter?” “No kidding. Christian is the heir to the Harrington Empire. Saving him is objectively more important!” Just then, my father rushed into the ER, having caught the first flight back from his overseas conference. Seeing him, Stella instantly dropped her defensive attitude and rushed over, putting on a professional, respectful face. “Chief Thomas! The lab exploded, and I… I risked my life to pull Christian out of the flames.” “Christian just promised me he would have Harrington Medical double their funding for our hospital!” My dad’s face was completely black. “Where is Rowan?!” Assuming the Chief was looking for someone to blame, Stella eagerly threw me to the wolves. “Sir, it was just Rowan and Christian in the lab. Christian is flawless with his protocols, so this incident is entirely Rowan’s fault.” “They just pulled him out. His injuries aren’t severe. But honestly, I strongly recommend banning him from the research labs going forward. Christian is more than capable of leading the projects alone.” My father’s expression turned murderous. Lying on the stretcher, I just smiled coldly to myself. Just wait, Stella. Once I am out of the picture, your life is going to become a living hell. Before I could even see my dad’s reaction, the darkness pulled me under, and I passed out cold. When I woke up, it was already dusk the following day. My arms and legs were encased in heavy plaster and bandages. I couldn’t move, but breathing the sterile hospital air, I felt completely reborn. “Rowan!” Ben walked up to my bed, looking exhausted but incredibly relieved. I tried to lift my hand to greet him, but a sharp spike of pain forced me to stop. Seeing me wince, Ben lost his composure. “You absolute idiot! Do you have any idea how close you were to dying?!” I offered a weak smile. “At least… I’m still breathing…” In this life, I didn’t owe Stella a damn thing. And neither my dad nor I were going to die. “Man,” Ben sighed heavily, pulling up a chair. “I already told your dad exactly what happened. He was so furious he called an emergency disciplinary board meeting for tomorrow morning!” Hearing about my dad, hot tears finally spilled over my eyelashes. In my past life, my blind trust in Stella eventually led to my father’s tragic death. “Ben…” I took a shaky breath, steadying my voice. “I need you to do one last thing for me.” “Name it.” “The security cameras… inside my private lab. I need you to pull the footage from right before the fire…” Ben grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Already on it, brother.” “We hit a small firewall, but don’t worry. I completely bypassed it. We have the video.” Looking at him, a tidal wave of guilt practically crushed my chest. In my past life, Stella had brainwashed me into believing Ben was jealous of me. She convinced me he was trying to sabotage my career. I got into a massive screaming match with him, cut him out of my life, and died before I ever had the chance to apologize. I was so blind. I threw away gold for a piece of trash. I was just about to close my eyes and rest when the door swung open. Stella walked in. And of course, Christian was trailing right behind her. He stood there looking absolutely flawless, adjusting the collar of his designer shirt, drawing the admiring eyes of the passing nurses. Then there was me. Mummified in plaster, broken on a hospital bed.

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The divorce from my ex-husband six years ago was the single most humiliating chapter of my life. He’d lost his mind back then, spewing the vilest curses, swearing I’d never find happiness. I was shaking with rage. That same day, I bought a one-way ticket and fled the country. It wasn’t until a high school reunion last week that I set foot in this city again. During dinner, someone enthusiastically tried to pour me a glass of wine. But Daniel, my ex, who was sitting right next to me, shot his hand out to block the bottle. “Don’t,” he said, his voice low but shockingly firm. “She’s allergic to alcohol.” 1 The moment he said it, the lively chatter in our private dining room died, replaced by a thick, awkward silence. Every eye in the room darted between me and Daniel. After all, our breakup had been a spectacular train wreck. Six years ago, Daniel had an affair with my best friend, Jessica. He claimed he didn’t want to hurt either of us and actually suggested the three of us could learn to coexist peacefully. The idea was so warped it shattered my reality. After a massive fight, I left the country in a storm of fury. And I hadn’t been back until today. Everyone knew the story, which is why they’d been carefully avoiding any sensitive topics during the initial pleasantries. But here was Daniel, practically begging for attention. After vetoing the wine, he took it upon himself to stand up and fill my glass with iced tea. Mike, one of our old friends, shot him a disapproving look but didn’t say anything when I remained silent. He just forced a smile and tried to smooth things over. “No worries, no worries! If Sophie can’t drink, she can’t drink. A toast with tea is just as good.” “Yeah, totally,” others chimed in, desperate to move past the cringeworthy moment. A reunion was a rare thing, and no one wanted our personal drama to ruin it. I didn’t want to make a scene either. I gracefully raised my glass of tea and took a sip. As I set it down, I caught a flicker of a smile in Daniel’s eyes, as if my simple act of drinking the tea he poured meant something more. I refused to overthink it and calmly looked away. Just then, the waiters began bringing in the food. I was surprised to see they were all my favorite dishes. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks: Daniel had been the one to place the order. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. He was leaning back in his chair, a smug, expectant look on his face, as if he’d been waiting for me to notice his grand gesture. It all clicked into place. Every single thing he’d done tonight was a calculated move to get close to me. And honestly? It was making my skin crawl. A good ex is a dead ex. They should vanish from your world completely, not pop up trying to play the knight in shining armor. Especially not when, less than a month after I left the country, Daniel had married Jessica. As far as I knew, they were still very much together. A married man making repeated, suggestive moves on his ex-wife? That wasn’t just inappropriate. It was disgusting. Trying to avoid any more drama, I coldly flagged down a waiter and ordered an orange juice. For the rest of the night, whenever a toast was made, I drank that, letting the iced tea Daniel had poured for me grow warm and forgotten. I thought my message was loud and clear. But then, Daniel suddenly reached across the table with his chopsticks and expertly placed a piece of brisket on my plate. “You’ve gotten so thin,” he said, his tone sickeningly intimate. “You must not have been eating well over there.” I stared at the meat in my bowl as if it were something rotten, unable to bring myself to touch it. But Daniel, acting completely oblivious, proceeded to serve me a little of everything, piling my plate high until it was a small mountain of food. Now, everyone was staring. 2 “What’s with those two? You think they got back together?” “No way! Isn’t Daniel still married?” “So what? They were the real couple. If it wasn’t for that Jessica butting in, they’d still be together.” “Man, nothing beats the original, you know?” Thanks to Daniel’s little performance, my former classmates were now convinced we were secretly hooking up again. Some even whispered that I’d come back to the country just for him. And the man himself, the architect of all this gossip, just sat there, watching it all unfold with a calm, detached expression. He didn’t say a word, content to let the rumors solidify into fact. I had no idea what his game was, but I wanted absolutely no part of it. I opened my mouth, ready to shut it all down by announcing that I was already married. But before I could speak, the door to the room swung open. Jessica stood there, a thundercloud on her face. Her eyes met mine, and for a second, she froze. Then, her expression shifted instantly, her face contorting into a sickly sweet smile. “Sophie! You’re back! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” She sauntered in like she owned the place and slid into the seat next to Daniel. The moment she sat down, her gaze fell on the dishes covering the table. As my best friend for years, she knew my tastes intimately. Her face went pale with humiliation. But just as quickly, she shot a venomous glare in my direction, as if I had personally orchestrated the menu just to embarrass her. A bitter irony washed over me. The Jessica I remembered wasn’t like this. I remember in tenth-grade gym class, I got my period and bled through my pants. A group of boys started pointing and laughing. “Hey, look! Sophie’s butt is bleeding!” “Ew, that’s so gross.” It was the first time I’d ever been publicly mocked like that. My back went rigid, and I froze on the spot, utterly clueless about what to do. Suddenly, Jessica charged in, whipped off her own jacket, and tied it around my waist. Then she spun around and roared at the boys. “What the hell are you laughing at? It’s called a period. It’s normal! If you’re that clueless, maybe you should pay attention in health class instead of acting like ignorant jerks.” The boys fell silent immediately. Later, I gave her a box of candy to thank her. She took it and thumped her chest, promising, “Anyone ever messes with you again, you just come find me. I’ll take care of them!” I thought she was just kidding, but Jessica was true to her word. Back then, Daniel and I were childhood sweethearts, practically joined at the hip. Our closeness fueled a lot of gossip. Someone even started a rumor that we had already gone all the way. At first, I ignored it. But we were still teenagers, and our skins weren’t as thick as they are now. Hearing it over and over started to get to me, making me feel miserable and wronged. So one day, after another crude joke was thrown my way, I finally broke. I walked to the front of the classroom and tearfully told everyone that Daniel and I had never crossed that line. Daniel stood up to defend me, but that only made things worse. The gossips exchanged gleeful looks and started jeering. “Ooh, look at that. Say two words about the girl and the guy jumps up to protect her. And you say nothing’s going on?” “They walk home together every day. Who knows what they’re doing in private!” “Hahaha.” Another wave of laughter crashed over me. I stood there, frozen, feeling like I’d been struck by lightning. That’s when Jessica slammed her hand on her desk. She stood up, marched over to the group of guys, looked them up and down, and then flashed a lewd grin. “Ooh, look at you three, always going to the bathroom together. Who knows what you guys are doing in there, huh?” She leaned in, her voice dripping with insinuation. “I heard real ‘bros’ are supposed to take care of each other when they’re in need. You guys been taking good care of each other?” If straight romance was a storm in our high school, a gay rumor was a full-blown apocalypse. The boys’ faces went white with panic. They immediately turned to me and Daniel, stammering apologies. After that, they never breathed another word about us. And from that day on, Jessica and I were inseparable. She was the kind of person who was optimistic, kind, and fiercely righteous. She was the one who would charge into battle for me. But the woman standing here today? For a man, she’d not only abandoned her own sense of justice but was now slinging mud at me without a second thought. “Sophie, are you still mad at me for taking Daniel all those years ago? Is that why you came back without saying a word to me?” I was so taken aback by her accusation that I didn’t know how to respond. She seized the opportunity, raising her voice into a pathetic, whiny tone. “I tried to talk to you when I came in, but you just ignored me. You just wanted to humiliate me, didn’t you?” Her voice rose to a crescendo, filled with theatrical self-pity. “I know you’ve never gotten over Daniel, but he’s my husband now! Are you really trying to seduce him right in front of my face?” The room erupted in gasps. Curious eyes bounced back and forth between me and Jessica. But what truly surprised me was Daniel’s reaction. He did absolutely nothing to stop Jessica’s lies. Instead, he just rested his chin on his hand, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips as he watched me. It was a look of pure anticipation. As if he was actually hoping I would try to seduce him. How could he look at me like that? Had he forgotten how he had cursed me, how he had wished me a life of misery? 3 I found out Jessica’s secret boyfriend was Daniel on the day she tried to kill herself. By then, I was already married to Daniel and five months pregnant with our child. She sent me a horrifying photo of her sliced wrist with a simple text: I’m so sorry. I can’t live anymore. The image of raw, red flesh made my scalp tingle with fear. I immediately called an ambulance. At the hospital, I was a wreck, pacing uselessly, not knowing what to do. I just knelt on the cold floor, my pregnant belly heavy, and sobbed, begging the doctors to save her. Thankfully, they managed to stabilize her. I finally let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. My relief quickly turned to rage. I was going to find the man who did this to her and make him pay. But I didn’t even know his name. All I had to go on were Jessica’s tear-swollen eyes from our last conversation. After composing myself, I went to her dorm to get her phone. My plan was to lure the bastard out and beat him to a pulp. But when I held her phone in my hand, my world tilted on its axis. The lock screen was a picture of two hands, fingers intertwined. On the man’s ring finger was a wedding band. I recognized it instantly. It was my wedding ring. The one I’d given Daniel. So… the man was Daniel? No. It couldn’t be. Impossible. My hands trembling, I frantically typed in my own birthday to unlock the phone. Password incorrect. I tried Jessica’s birthday. Still incorrect. Finally, with a shaking hand, I entered Daniel’s birthday. The phone unlocked. At that point, the truth was already screaming at me, but a tiny, desperate part of my heart clung to hope. Maybe it’s not Daniel’s hand, just someone with a similar ring… Maybe the password is just a random coincidence… But all my flimsy excuses were obliterated by the thousands of photos in her gallery. Over a thousand pictures of Daniel and Jessica together. Eating at restaurants. Vacationing on a beach. Lying in bed, tangled in sheets. And then… the one that broke me. A snapshot of a white bedsheet stained with a single, damning crimson blotch. A picture taken after the first time they’d slept together. The date stamp was from four months ago. The same day I found out I was pregnant. I remembered it so clearly. When I told Daniel the news, he was so ecstatic he lifted me up and spun me around. Jessica was there, too, excitedly declaring she would be the baby’s godmother. It had been the happiest day of my life. I was carrying new life, with the man I loved and the friend I cherished by my side. I had shared my joy with them in the morning. And that very afternoon, they had betrayed me together. What a fucking joke. The two people who had been my entire world, who had walked with me through my entire youth, had been lying to me all along. And I, in my blissful ignorance, had never suspected a thing. If I hadn’t been trying to play the hero for Jessica, would I have ever found out? The thought that just hours ago, I was on my knees, pregnant and desperate, begging doctors to save her… it made me want to laugh. But the laughter died in my throat. A cold, chilling thought sliced through my mind. Jessica’s suicide attempt… was it a calculated move to force my hand?

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I have been dead for three years. Today, my lawyer wife showed up at my overgrown childhood home in the countryside, clutching a printed plea deal. She couldn’t find me anywhere, so she eventually had to knock on a neighbor’s door to ask for my whereabouts. “Mike has been dead for a long time,” the neighbor told her flatly. “Word is, right after he got out of prison, the victims’ families tracked him down and beat him to death.” My wife refused to believe a single word. She was convinced the neighbor and I were running some kind of sick con. She scoffed, her face twisting with absolute disgust. “He spent a couple of years behind bars, and now he’s got the nerve to fake his own death to avoid me?” “You tell him something for me. If he doesn’t show up in court this Monday, his crazy mother locked up in that asylum won’t see another dime of my money!” With that, she turned on her heel and stormed off. The neighbor watched her stubborn, retreating figure and let out a heavy sigh. “But his mother already starved to death in that ward a long time ago…” 01 I floated in the weed-choked yard of my old estate, watching Diana stumble awkwardly through the dead grass in her designer stilettos. She was tightly gripping a few sheets of paper. A confession form, I figured, meant to make me take the fall one more time. “Mike! Get out here! Do you think hiding in this dump is funny?” She screamed at the top of her lungs. Her voice bounced off the empty, decaying walls of the farmhouse. “If I hadn’t pulled strings back then, you would have been beaten to a pulp inside! Now I actually need you, and you have the guts to hide from me?” Listening to Diana talk about the past with zero remorse felt like an ice pick driving straight into my chest. Three years ago, she said the exact same things. Back then, Oliver had driven drunk and hit someone. Diana came to me with fake evidence and a cold ultimatum. “It’s just two years. You go in for two years, and I guarantee your mother gets the absolute best medical care. But if you say no…” I remember staring at her in pure disbelief. We fought until I flipped the dining table. “Diana! I am your husband! How could you throw me in a cell just to save him?” She didn’t even bother to explain herself. She just looked at me with a sickening amount of contempt. “Either sign the confession, or watch your mother’s treatment get cut off today. Take your pick.” And now, here she was again, wearing the exact same ugly expression. It was late into the night, but Diana was still yelling. The noise finally woke up Mrs. Gable next door. The older woman shoved her window open and poked her head out. “What is all that screaming about at this hour? Nobody lives there anymore!” Diana immediately aimed her hostility at the old woman. “You know Mike, don’t you? Is he hiding in there?” Mrs. Gable squinted through her reading glasses for a good while before letting out a soft sound of realization. “Oh, you mean Mike? He passed away almost three years ago.” Diana’s face froze for a fraction of a second. “What did you just say? Dead?” “That’s right. He didn’t even make it two days out of prison before he was killed. People say it was the family of the victims from that old case. Beat him till he stopped breathing right on the spot.” Mrs. Gable frowned, her tone turning sour. “Who exactly are you to him? How do you not know this?” “Impossible!” Diana’s voice suddenly spiked in pitch. “Someone like him wouldn’t just…” Before she could even finish her sentence, her hands were shaking as she pulled out her phone. She dialed Oliver’s number. She put it on speaker. Oliver’s smooth voice drifted out into the cold night air. “Hey D, what’s wrong?” “Oliver, that fifty grand you said you gave to the victim’s family. Did you actually hand it over?” There was a half-second pause on the other end, followed by Oliver’s confident reply. “Of course I did. Handed it to them myself. Why?” I hovered right next to the phone, so close I could hear the static, and almost let out a string of curses. He didn’t do a damn thing. When I was released, those relatives showed up at my door, screaming about getting blood for blood. It was only as I was being beaten within an inch of my life that I realized Oliver had never paid them a single cent. They hadn’t even heard the word “settlement.” I died in Oliver’s place. Hearing his lie, the tension drained out of Diana’s face. She snapped her head back toward Mrs. Gable, glaring with pure revulsion. “I knew it. You and Mike are just teaming up to play me!” “So what if he had to sit in a cell for two years? Now he’s playing dead to hide from me?” “You tell him, Mrs. Gable. If he doesn’t show his face in court next Monday, that crazy mother of his can rot!” She spun around and marched away, her heels clicking sharply against the stone path with absolute finality. Mrs. Gable watched her go, shaking her head at the empty air. “Love really makes a fool out of people. Mike’s poor mother passed on ages ago. Heard nobody even checked her room for days. Starved right to the bone.” 02 Diana practically fled the old property, totally missing Mrs. Gable’s final words. My soul, tethered to her by some invisible, suffocating thread, had no choice but to drift along. Her cab sped through the city, eventually pulling up to Oliver’s downtown penthouse overlooking the bay. The moment the door swung open, Oliver was right there, a desperate, eager smile plastered across his face. “D, how did it go? Did Mike agree?” Diana paused as she took off her coat, avoiding his eyes. “He… wasn’t home.” The smile slid off Oliver’s face, instantly replaced by a masterfully crafted look of guilt. “Is he still mad at me? Mad about the time I made him take the fall? I know I put him through hell.” He looked down, his voice dropping to a miserable mumble as his eyes perfectly welled up with tears. “Maybe we should just drop it. It’s my mess anyway. I can’t drag him down again.” “It’s just… if I really get locked up, what are you going to do all by yourself…” Diana always crumbled when he played this card. She immediately pulled him into a tight hug, her brow furrowing with protective anger. “Stop talking like that. What right does he have to be mad?” “I paid him a massive amount of hush money last time, and I took care of the victims’ families! It was just a couple of years inside. It’s not like I asked him to die for you. He has absolutely no reason to be difficult!” She gripped Oliver’s shoulders, her tone absolute. “Don’t worry. I will find him. He has to take the heat for you this time, no matter what.” Floating right beside the living room chandelier, I caught the fleeting, smug smirk on Oliver’s lips. A coldness seeped into my ghostly core. I never saw a penny of that money. And those “taken care of” families were the reapers who took my life. Oliver buried his face in the crook of Diana’s neck, smiling his victorious little smile right where she couldn’t see. I reached out, desperately wanting to wrap my hands around his throat, but my fingers just phased through his flesh like smoke. “Trust me,” Diana whispered, rubbing his back. “I’ll track him down. He is going to fix this.” Determined to dig me out of whatever hole she thought I was in, Diana drove back to my old farmhouse at the crack of dawn. Morning light spilled through the shattered windowpanes of the decaying house. She stood in the overgrown yard, her frown deepening by the second. “These flowers…” She crouched down, running a finger over a massive bush of dead, blackened roses. She knew how much I worshipped my garden. Unless something physically stopped me, I would never have let them wither like this. I hovered behind her as she pulled out her phone, taking photos of the cobwebs thick on the window sills. Her thumb hovered over the screen for a long time before she finally called her assistant. “I need you to trace every move Mike has made. Dig up everything.” She hung up and took a few steps closer to the porch. My heart would have hammered in my chest if I still had one. Right there, just past the corner, the concrete was still stained with my dried, blackened blood from three years ago. Just two more steps. Suddenly, a piercing ringtone shattered the silence. It was her custom ringtone for Oliver. She answered, and Oliver’s panicked voice blasted through the speaker. “D! I just heard the victims got their hands on new evidence. If we don’t handle this right now, I’m completely screwed!” “What?!” Diana’s face drained of color. “I’m heading back right now!” She turned and sprinted for the car, abandoning the bloodstain and the dead roses without a second thought. I could only laugh bitterly. It didn’t matter what was happening; her precious Oliver always came first. 03 I was dragged along as Diana pushed her car well past the speed limit, the city blurring into gray streaks outside the window. She drummed her manicured nails frantically against the steering wheel, muttering to herself. “We have time. We have to have time…” The Bluetooth clicked on. Her assistant’s voice filled the cabin. “Diana, I still can’t find a single trace of Mike anywhere in the system. It’s almost like he really is…” “Useless!” she screamed, slamming her palm against the horn. “Keep digging! Hack into the city’s traffic grids if you have to!” She killed the call, her breathing ragged. Then, her eyes suddenly lit up. It was that familiar, calculating look she always got right before she won a tough case. She dialed Oliver, her voice actually trembling with excitement. “Oliver, I figured it out! That old bat is still locked up in the psychiatric ward. Mike cares about her more than anything in the world…” My soul violently violently shook. The image of my mother, reduced to skin and bones, flashed before my eyes. After all these years, she still wanted to use my mother as a bargaining chip! I screamed at her to stop, but she couldn’t hear a thing. Intoxicated by the thrill of finding my weak point, she slammed on the gas and aimed the car straight for the asylum. Her heels echoed like gunshots down the sterile, fluorescent-lit hallways. The air was thick with the suffocating stench of bleach and stale urine. Diana pinched her nose in disgust and raised her voice. “Somebody get out here! Where is Mike’s mother? Bring her out to me right now.” A middle-aged man in gold-rimmed glasses rushed out of an office. “Counselor, what an unexpected surprise…” “Cut the crap, Dr. Lawson,” she snapped. “Which room is Eleanor in? I’m taking her with me.” Dr. Lawson’s face hardened, a thin layer of sweat instantly breaking out across his forehead. “Well… you might not be aware, but Eleanor is…” “She’s what? Oliver was just here last month paying ten grand for her care! Take me to her right now!” My spirit twisted in agony. That ten grand went straight into Oliver and Lawson’s pockets. Dr. Lawson scrambled to his desk, frantically clicking through his patient database until a death certificate popped up on the monitor. [Time of Death: March 15, 2023. Cause of Death: Severe Malnutrition.] “Counselor… Eleanor passed away two years ago.” “Bullshit!” Diana shoved him aside and grabbed the mouse, her eyes boring into the screen. I watched her pupils dilate, her fingers trembling slightly against the plastic mouse. But a second later, she let out a dry, mocking laugh. “Wow. How much did Mike pay you to forge this, Doctor?” She leaned in close, dropping her voice to a lethal whisper. “Do you know the maximum sentence for falsifying medical records?” Dr. Lawson looked like his knees were about to give out. “I swear to God, this is the official system! You can check the registry number with the state…” “Shut up.” Diana slammed the laptop shut and marched toward the door. “I’ll look into this myself. And if I find out you two are playing games with me…” She didn’t finish the threat, but Lawson already looked like a corpse. I knew exactly what he was terrified of. He was the one who personally injected my mother with fatal doses of sedatives. When Diana got back into her car, her hands were shaking so badly she could barely turn the key. She called Oliver, her voice sickeningly sweet. “Hey babe, don’t panic. I will find that old hag. Mike does whatever she says…” Sitting in the passenger seat, watching the absolute devotion in her eyes, a wave of hatred so pure it burned washed over me. If ghosts could cry, I would have wept blood. 04 But Diana only ever saved her gentleness for him. The moment she hung up, her foot went flat to the floor. She tore through the streets, blowing past three red lights. She screamed at her assistant over the phone, gripping the leather wheel until her knuckles turned white. “Investigate that hospital right now! I want a full audit! Mike definitely bribed them to hide her!” I looked at her twisted, furious profile and couldn’t help but laugh. The irony was staggering. The hospital did fake the records. But it wasn’t my money. And they weren’t protecting me. They were covering up for her precious, untouchable Oliver. Watching the city blur past, I remembered a rainy night three years ago. Oliver had his arm wrapped around Diana’s waist. “That old woman is a massive problem,” he had whispered to her. “She’s at the precinct every single day. If she keeps making noise, she’s going to blow our whole cover.” Diana hadn’t even looked up from her phone. “Handle it however you want,” she had replied, utterly indifferent. And just like that, Oliver slapped a fake psychiatric hold on my mother and locked her in a living hell, stripping away her freedom and eventually her life. The violent screech of tires yanked me back to the present. Diana had slammed the brakes near City Hall, but she made no move to get out. She was staring at a text from Oliver. “D, the trial is tomorrow. Why haven’t we found Mike yet?” Her manicured fingers tapped a frantic rhythm on the steering wheel before she finally called him back. “Oliver, listen to me. We have to trigger an emergency to push the court date back.” Oliver sounded confused. “An emergency?” “Yes. A sudden illness, a severe accident, something undeniable that forces the judge to delay…” Oliver went dead silent on the line. A minute later, a blood-curdling scream erupted from the phone, followed by the heavy, sickening thud of someone tumbling down a flight of wooden stairs. All the blood drained from Diana’s face. “Oliver? Oliver!” There was a chaotic shuffling sound, and then a panic-stricken voice came through. “Ms. Diana! Mr. Oliver… he just fell down the entire staircase!” I floated behind her as she sprinted through the sliding doors of the emergency room. Oliver was lying on a gurney, his right leg already in a thick plaster cast, looking as pale as a ghost. Diana threw herself over him, tears freely pouring down her cheeks. “Are you insane? We could have figured something else out! Why would you hurt yourself like this?” Oliver managed to put on a weak, tragic smile. “I just… I owe you too much. I couldn’t bear watching you run yourself ragged trying to fix my mistakes.” Diana let out a ragged breath and kissed his forehead tenderly. “You idiot. But… the doctor said your tibia is fractured. You need two weeks of bed rest. That pushes the trial back by at least half a month.” “You just focus on healing. I’ll handle the rest.” By the time she walked out of the hospital, the cold, ruthless lawyer was back. She called her assistant. “What did you find? Good. Now scrub every location Mike might be hiding. His old friends, his favorite bars, anywhere…” I hovered in her shadow as she slid into the driver’s seat. She would never guess that the man she was tearing the city apart to find was sitting right beside her.

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For fifteen years, I was fiercely protective of my brother. But then came the twist of the century: he turned out to be the switched-at-birth heir to a billionaire family. When his biological parents arrived, I lost it. Crying, I grabbed his hand and swore blood didn’t matter—I’d always be the sister who loved him most. I warned him rich families often prefer the child they raised, and gave him a handwritten “True Heir Survival Guide,” promising our dogs, cats, and even the town’s angry geese would always have his back. My brother and his father looked ready to burst. Then his father cleared his throat and said I was coming too. I beamed, hugging my brother’s arm, already cheering about storming high society together to crush the “fake son.” My brother fell silent. The “fake son” I wanted to destroy was actually my own biological brother. 1 Gordon and I grew up scraping by in a forgotten, run-down town deep in the Appalachian mountains. Our parents passed away when we were young. We survived by sticking to the shadows, living off canned beans and stale bread. Gordon was the silent type. Even if the sky was falling, he wouldn’t make a sound. But if we only had one bite of food left, he would always force it into my mouth. I was the exact opposite. I had a sharp tongue, a wild temper, and I ran our neighborhood like a boss. If anyone dared to lay a finger on Gordon, I would chase them all the way to the county line, screaming insults until they couldn’t show their faces again. So when that sleek, pitch-black town car pulled up in front of our rotting wooden porch, my first instinct was to shove Gordon behind me. A man stepped out. He was dressed in a pristine tailored suit, his hair slicked back so perfectly it looked painted on. One look, and you knew he didn’t drink tap water like the rest of us. He introduced himself as Victor Sinclair. He was Gordon’s biological father. Gordon was the true heir the Sinclair family had accidentally swapped at the hospital sixteen years ago. What happened next played out exactly like the opening chapter of my survival guide. I cried until my face was a mess, Victor Sinclair looked at me with an expression dark as thunder, and finally barked out that the sister was coming too. I wiped my tears in a flash, grabbed Gordon’s hand, and hopped into the leather seats. It was my first time in a car that smelled like expensive cologne instead of gasoline, and I was definitely intimidated. But I was more terrified for Gordon. Plunging this innocent guy into a mansion full of billionaires was like throwing a rabbit into a shark tank. I leaned close to his ear, dropping my voice to a whisper. “Gordon, don’t panic. What is rule number one in my survival guide?” Gordon nervously picked at his cuticles, his lips trembling. “Watch more, speak less, play mute.” I nodded in approval and leaned in a little closer. “Then why do you think he brought me along?” Gordon just stared at me blankly. I puffed out my chest, mimicking his rich dad’s deep voice. “He obviously saw my potential! He knows I’m a natural-born business shark and wants to groom me as his protege!” The driver’s hands jerked, making the luxury car swerve slightly across the yellow line. Victor’s temple twitched. He shot me an ice-cold glare through the rearview mirror. “Say one more word of nonsense, and I will throw you out to feed the coyotes.” I shut my mouth, but in my head, I was reciting rule number two. Billionaire patriarchs are moody control freaks. Agreeing with them makes you a pushover. You have to play hard to get. A few silent minutes passed before I couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Hey, mister. Does this mean there’s a fake heir sitting in your house right now? Let me guess, he’s a two-faced, manipulative little angel who acts sweet in front of you but stabs people in the back.” I squeezed Gordon’s hand tight. “Don’t worry, bro. I’ll read his every move. As long as we stick together, we’ll crush him.” The temperature inside the car seemed to drop below freezing. Victor didn’t say a word. I was on a roll now, poking Gordon in the ribs. “And get this, Gordon. That fake heir is technically my actual biological brother.” Gordon froze. His brain completely short-circuited. The drive took nearly three hours. I even managed to take a nap, but when I woke up, Gordon still looked like he was on his way to the electric chair. His brow was furrowed so deeply it could crush a walnut. When we finally parked, he reached out and desperately grabbed Victor’s expensive sleeve. “Sir, if he and I get into a fight, whose side are you taking?” “Let’s get one thing straight. You and I share blood, but to him, you’re just tap water. No playing favorites.” The veins on Victor’s forehead throbbed like angry worms. “Relax. You are not going to fight.” Victor just didn’t want to admit that the only fight he was worried about was between himself and his biological son. I curled my lip, clearly not buying it. “Look at that. We haven’t even walked through the front door, and he’s already biased.” I couldn’t wait to see what kind of monster had this grumpy billionaire so completely brainwashed. 2 The fake heir, my biological brother Sebastian, was infinitely more manipulative than I could have ever imagined. He was dressed in a flawless white cashmere sweater, standing in front of the massive mahogany double doors. A pure, angelic smile was plastered across his face. His skin was paler than milk, and his eyes were glistening, looking like he was ready to shed a sympathetic tear at any given second. Standing next to Gordon, the contrast was brutal. Gordon looked like a potato freshly dug out of the dirt, while Sebastian was a perfectly manicured greenhouse lily. All my aggressive energy instantly evaporated. This guy’s combat level was way too high. Gordon was sweating through his cheap shirt. He instinctively hid behind my shoulder, only peeking out with wide, terrified eyes. Sebastian bypassed me entirely, stepping right up to Gordon with a slight, respectful bow. His voice was soft enough to melt butter. “You must be Gordon. I am Sebastian. We are going to be a family from now on.” He reached out, offering a polite handshake. I reflexively stepped in front of Gordon, glaring at the polished boy like a guard dog. “What do you think you’re doing? My brother is shy. Keep your hands to yourself.” Sebastian blinked in surprise. Instantly, his eyes went red. He looked at me with absolute heartbreak. “Sister, do you hate me? I am so sorry. I know I took his rightful place. This is all my fault.” I sucked in a sharp breath. Good grief. This was exactly what I wrote in the guide. The ultimate manipulative tactic. Act weak and farm for sympathy. Gordon, the absolute fool, fell for it immediately. He tugged at the back of my shirt. “Lexi, I don’t think he means any harm.” I shot him a glare of pure disappointment. Dinner was even more bizarre. Sitting at the incredibly long dining table, Sebastian eagerly piled food onto Gordon’s pristine china plate. Every single thing he picked was something I knew Gordon hated. “Brother, you must have never tasted anything like this out in the country. Eat up. You need the nutrition.” “This is Maine lobster, and this is foie gras. Here, let me show you how to hold your silverware.” Gordon gripped the heavy silver knife and fork, his hands shaking like he had tremors. His face was burning a humiliated crimson. I slammed my fork down on the table, pushing my own plate right in front of Gordon. “My brother doesn’t like this fancy European garbage. He likes the hearty beef stew on my plate.” I stabbed the biggest chunk of tender beef and shoved it directly into Gordon’s mouth. Sebastian’s polite smile completely froze. The unshed tears in his eyes began to well up again. He looked toward the head of the table, silently begging Victor for help. Victor finally broke his silence. “Gordon is sixteen now. I have already instructed the staff to transfer both of your academic records to Oakridge Academy. You will be attending the same prep school as Sebastian.” I let out a scoff, just about to reject the offer, but Sebastian beat me to the punch. “Dad, do you really think that is a good idea? The curriculum at Oakridge is incredibly demanding. Brother just got here from a rural public school, he will definitely struggle. What if people make fun of him?” He wore a mask of deep concern, but there was a distinct, undeniable layer of superiority bleeding into his tone. “Maybe we should enroll him in a middle school first? Building a solid foundation is what truly matters.” I laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. “Sure thing. Me and my brother are going to Oakridge. I would love to see which blind idiot dares to make fun of us. Even starting from absolute zero, we are ten times better than some spoiled rich kids with empty heads.” The tension in the dining room spiked. I could feel Victor’s sharp, calculating gaze burning into the side of my head. Sebastian shrank back in his expensive chair, looking like I had just physically assaulted him. I didn’t care. I wanted to stir the pot. I needed everyone in this house to understand one simple fact. Nobody messes with Lexi’s brother. 3 Victor had the staff arrange our bedrooms. Gordon’s room was massive and luxurious, basically a presidential suite. But it was located at the absolute end of the hallway, isolated from the rest of the family. My room was slightly smaller, but conveniently placed right next door to Sebastian’s. I hugged my faded cartoon pillow tightly against my chest, standing stubbornly in Gordon’s doorway, refusing to leave. “I am sleeping in my brother’s room.” The head butler looked deeply uncomfortable. “Miss Lexi, that violates the household protocols.” “What protocols? In our house, the only protocol is that I stay where my brother stays.” Sebastian heard the commotion and stepped out of his room. He was wearing silk pajamas, his hair slightly damp from the shower, making him look even more fragile and pathetic. “Sister, what is wrong? Do you feel claustrophobic in your room? It is okay, my suite is very spacious. We can switch.” I rolled my eyes. I didn’t even have the energy to play along with his act. “I am worried my brother will have nightmares. He has always been afraid of the dark.” Sebastian’s eyes instantly welled up with moisture again. “This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have come back tonight and startled him.” He turned to Victor, who was standing a few yards away, his expression unreadable. “Dad, please let her stay with him. Everything is new to them, they must be so overwhelmed.” Look at that. A masterclass in manipulation. He got to play the generous, forgiving saint, while simultaneously painting us as uncultured hillbillies who couldn’t handle sleeping in a nice bed. Victor gave me a freezing glare. “Do whatever you want.” I successfully claimed the left half of Gordon’s massive California King bed. In the middle of the night, a quiet rustling sound woke me up. Gordon wasn’t asleep. He was sitting by the large bay window, staring blankly at the moon. “Gordon, what’s going on in your head?” He looked over his shoulder. The moonlight caught his face, highlighting the deep insecurity and fear in his eyes. “Lexi, this place is too big. It scares me.” “I feel like a criminal. Like I broke in and stole someone else’s life.” My chest tightened painfully. I crawled across the mattress and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. “Shut up. You are not a thief. You just finally came home. Everything in this house was supposed to be yours from the start.” “Sebastian is the real thief. He stole sixteen years of your life.” Gordon shook his head, burying his face into my shoulder. His voice was muffled and small. “But their dad likes him better.” I patted his back, my voice completely unwavering. “Who cares who he likes? I like you, and that is all that matters. Trust me, Gordon. We are going to win.” Early the next morning, Sebastian knocked on our door. He was holding a steaming mug of milk, a bright, welcoming smile on his face. “Good morning, brother, sister. Dad sent me to bring you down for breakfast.” He offered the mug to Gordon. “Brother, I had the chef prepare this warm milk just for you. It is excellent for your digestion.” I stared at that mug, the alarm bells from rule number three ringing wildly in my head. Beware of the fake heir’s random acts of kindness. Sugar-coated bullets are always the deadliest. I snatched the mug right out of his hands and, while they both watched in stunned silence, poured the entire thing directly into a large potted fern by the door. “My brother is lactose intolerant. He can’t drink this.” I lied without even blinking. All the color drained from Sebastian’s face. He stood there, completely out of his depth. “I am so sorry, brother. I had no idea.” I let out a cold laugh, grabbing Gordon by the wrist and pulling him past Sebastian into the hallway. “There is a lot of stuff you don’t know. Stay away from my brother.” As we walked down the corridor, I could feel two distinct gazes burning into my back. One was Sebastian’s manufactured victimhood. The other was Victor’s cold, calculating scrutiny. Good. I wanted them to know exactly who they were dealing with. Lexi doesn’t play nice. 4 Transferring to Oakridge Academy went much smoother than I expected. Victor probably just wanted us out of the house so he didn’t have to look at us. On our very first day, Sebastian immediately tried to put on a show of brotherly love. He gathered a massive crowd of his elite friends and blocked us right at the classroom door. “Everyone, I want to introduce you to my brother, Gordon. He just moved back home. And this is his sister, Lexi.” The boys and girls standing behind him were dripping in designer brands. They looked at us like we were some exotic animals freshly imported to the zoo. “Wow, so that’s the true heir from the mountains?” “He looks so incredibly trashy.” “His sister looks like a feral dog.” Sebastian put on a fake stern voice and scolded them. “Do not say things like that. They are my family.” Then, he pulled out a beautifully wrapped luxury box and offered it to Gordon. “Brother, this is a welcome gift. It is the newest model smartwatch. It connects directly to the campus mainframe, it will really help you catch up on your studies.” Gordon stared at the high-tech device, his hands awkwardly hovering in the air, not knowing what to do. I saw right through Sebastian’s little game. Gordon had never even owned a smartphone. Handing him a complex piece of tech in front of a crowd was just a setup to watch him struggle and embarrass himself. I shoved the box right back into Sebastian’s chest. “No thanks. My brother isn’t used to this flashy junk.” I reached into my faded canvas backpack and pulled out an object wrapped in crumpled newspaper. I pressed it firmly into Gordon’s hands. “Here, bro. I brought this for you. It isn’t expensive, but it’s a hell of a lot better than something that just looks pretty.” Gordon carefully peeled back the newspaper. Inside was a beautifully hand-carved wooden wolf. The wolf’s eyes were dark and fierce, its posture powerful and alive. Gordon had stayed up for four straight nights carving it by the light of a single bulb. Gordon’s eyes instantly lit up. He cradled the small wooden carving like it was the most precious artifact in the entire world. The hallway went dead silent. Sebastian’s face shifted through three different shades of pale before settling on a sickly green. A bleach-blonde prep standing behind him couldn’t take it anymore. He stepped up, pointing a manicured finger right at my face. “What is your problem? Sebastian is trying to be nice, and you’re acting like ungrateful trash.” I raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me? Are we legally required to accept his gifts? Did your dad buy the entire school, or do you just like sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong?” “You little—” Before things could escalate into a physical fight, the morning bell echoed through the halls. Sebastian grabbed the blonde kid’s arm, pulling him back. He shot me one long, heavy look. The fake victim routine was gone, replaced by pure, freezing venom. He led his entourage away. I knew the war had officially begun. After the final bell, I deliberately dragged Gordon out the back exit, trying to avoid being cornered. But it didn’t work. Sebastian was waiting for us in a blind spot near the parking lot. He was completely alone this time. No audience. He blocked our path, staring down at the wooden wolf still clutched in Gordon’s hand. He let out a harsh, arrogant scoff. “White trash will always be white trash. You are only fit to play with mud and sticks.” All the blood rushed out of Gordon’s face. He instinctively hid the carving behind his back. A white-hot rage exploded in my chest. “Who the hell are you calling white trash? You are a cuckoo bird who stole another family’s nest. What gives you the right to look down on anyone?” “The food you eat, the clothes on your back, the bed you sleep in. Every single thing belongs to my brother. What exactly are you so proud of?” Sebastian turned purple. I doubt anyone had ever spoken to him like that in his entire pampered life. He shook with anger, pointing a trembling finger at me. “You… you are going to regret this.” Right at that exact second, Victor’s sleek town car silently rolled to a stop right behind us. Victor stepped out of the backseat, his expression dark as a storm cloud. The second Sebastian saw him, it was like a switch flipped. Tears instantly flooded his eyes. He practically threw himself at Victor, sobbing beautifully. “Dad, I was just trying to talk to them, I wanted us to be a real family. But Lexi hates me so much. Is it because I took his place? Dad, maybe I should just pack my things and leave. I will give everything back to him.” He choked on his tears, looking like he had suffered the greatest injustice in human history. Victor’s expression darkened even further. His sharp, predatory gaze locked directly onto me. His voice was as cold as a frozen lake. “Lexi. Apologize to your brother.”

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