Category: English

1 Trying on my wedding dress, my sister Brittney joined us. I stepped out in heavy white tulle. Guy stood before me, letting Brittney adjust his bowtie, a soft smile on his lips. Before I spoke, the stylist bypassed me, beaming at Brittney. “Right this way, beautiful bride.” They exchanged glances and chuckled. No correction. Noah, our childhood friend and photographer, brushed past me, camera clicking. Of ninety-nine photos taken that afternoon, every single one featured Brittney and Guy. Not one of me, the actual bride. My feet cemented to the floor. As children, Noah and Brittney always played bride and groom while I tossed petals. Now adults, I had a real fiancé, yet there they were, laughing and posing, while I held her purse. “Adam, hand me that bouquet,” Brittney called. I didn’t move. Guy approached, gently taking it from my numb fingers. “Spacing out? Go pick invitation designs. I’ll join you after,” he said, tender and oblivious. Noah peeked from behind his lens. “Adam, step left. You’re blocking the light.” I swallowed the lump in my throat, backing into the cold wall. Reality washed over me. I was unnecessary here. If this wedding didn’t need me, I wouldn’t attend. I quietly picked up my purse from the velvet bench and pushed the glass door open. The brass bell chimed overhead. Nobody called my name. I glanced back one last time. Brittney was twirling in front of the floor to ceiling mirror. Guy stood behind her, carefully adjusting the silk bow at her waist. Noah crouched low, snapping away. “Yes, perfect. Hold that angle.” The flash went off five or six times in a row. I turned away and walked out into the street. The moment I sat behind the steering wheel of my car, my phone screen lit up. It was a text from our wedding planner. “Hi Adam, the wedding is coming up fast! Have you decided on the invitation suite yet?” Before I could type a reply, another bubble popped up. “Or you could have your sister pick them out? She has fantastic taste.” The interior of the car was suffocatingly quiet. It was so quiet I could hear the rhythm of my own breathing. In and out. Like I was counting. Counting what? Counting the number of times I had been forgotten in this relationship? The number of times I had been rendered invisible? I typed three words and hit send. “Let her decide.” I meant it. It didn’t matter what I picked anyway. Guy would always agree with Brittney’s choices in the end. The planner replied instantly. “Great, noted.” I stared at those words. I could practically hear her sigh of relief. Dealing with Brittney was so much easier than waiting for the indecisive bride. My phone vibrated wildly in my hand. Notifications flooded our group chat. Noah was uploading the photos he just took. I tapped on the thumbnails. His composition was flawless. The afternoon sunlight hit Guy and Brittney’s faces perfectly. They looked like a magazine spread for a luxury bridal brand. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. When I was a little girl playing pretend, I was so incredibly jealous of the one who got to wear the veil. When I met Guy, I thought my time had finally come. I thought I finally got to be the real bride. I poured my heart and soul into this wedding. I walked on eggshells, obsessing over every detail. It was as if this ceremony was my only proof that I was worthy of being the main character in my own life. I never expected to be shoved out of the frame entirely. I brought Brittney today because she was my family. Trying on wedding dresses was supposed to be a sacred, intimate moment. There was only supposed to be one bride and one groom in the mirror. And I was the bride. I thought nothing could possibly go wrong today. But the result was exactly the same as always. My phone screen faded to black, then lit up again. Message after message rolled into the group chat. I didn’t reply to a single one. And nobody noticed. I drove back to my apartment. Stuck to the fridge was a bright yellow sticky note I had written myself. “7 Days Until the Wedding.” I peeled the paper off the metal, crumpled it into a tight ball, and tossed it into the trash. I didn’t get out of bed until noon the next day. When I finally checked my phone, there were over a hundred messages in the wedding group chat. I stared at the single voice memo Brittney had tagged me in. I hesitated, then tapped play. “Adam, I went ahead and changed the background music for the reception. The song you picked was way too depressing. It is a wedding, it is supposed to be lively!” Right below it was a text from Guy. “Yeah, the original track didn’t fit the vibe.” The original track. I spent an entire month hunting down that specific vinyl. It was the song my parents danced to at their own wedding. They passed away when I was young. I just wanted them to be present on my big day in some small way. Whenever I heard those opening chords, my eyes would well up with tears. Guy knew this. Brittney knew this. But they still decided it was too depressing. Brittney sent another message to the group. “My sister doesn’t really have an eye for this stuff anyway. We will just handle the final details for her.” Guy replied with a single word. “Okay.” I stared at that word until my vision blurred. The messages kept scrolling past like a rushing river. Nobody seemed to realize that I was in the chat. Nobody realized I hadn’t spoken a word. My participation in my own wedding had officially reached zero. I opened my private messages with Guy. Our last conversation was from yesterday morning, right before the dress fitting. I told him I was feeling a little nervous. He replied with an emoji of a bear patting another bear on the head. Nothing else. He didn’t even send a private text to ask why I left the boutique early. He just tagged me in the group chat last night. “What happened? Got stage fright and ran off?” Nobody answered him, and he didn’t press the issue. Brittney sent a picture of the dress soon after, captioning it, “Dress fitting was a success. We secured the gown!” And just like that, my absence was brushed over. Then they moved right along to discussing floral arrangements, invitations, and the photobooth backdrop. I suddenly realized my role wasn’t just unnecessary. Being unnecessary meant I actually had a place to begin with. The truth was, I was never even in the picture. I was pulling my suitcase out of the closet when Brittney FaceTimed me. I answered. The screen showed a makeup artist blending foundation onto her cheek. “Adam, you move way too slow. You still hadn’t booked a makeup artist, so I just hired a premium team for you. I’m having them do a trial run on me first.” I watched her check her reflection in the camera. I opened my mouth, but the words died on my tongue. Should I tell her I booked my best friend to do my makeup two weeks ago? Should I ask her why they kept making decisions without asking me if I was okay with them? It felt pointless. Had I never asked before? Had I never shown my anger? Had I never tried to stand my ground? I had. And their response was always the same. “You are the older sister. Be the bigger person. Let her have this.” Noah grew up with me. We were childhood best friends. Yet he always took her side. When Guy first pursued me, he said he loved how quiet and steady I was. He called it endearing. I thought he truly loved my calm nature. But after he met Brittney, his preferences mysteriously shifted. He started dropping comments about how girls should be vibrant, bubbly, and full of opinions. One day, I couldn’t take it anymore. I asked him directly. “Can you please stop being so physically affectionate with Brittney?” I loved my sister. I raised her. Guy should have known how much it cost me to ask that question. He didn’t take it seriously. He just laughed and ruffled my hair. “She is your little sister, Adam. Do you want me to be enemies with my future sister in law?” I fell silent. Of course I didn’t want them to be enemies. But the crushing weight of being the mature older sister had been breaking my back for years. For the first time in my life, I couldn’t breathe. They always seemed to forget that I was only two years older than her. I wanted to be spoiled too. I wanted someone to ask me if I liked something before forcing it on me. A sliver of afternoon sunlight crept through the blinds and pooled on the hardwood floor. I remembered the aftermath of our childhood games. When the pretend wedding was over, Noah and Brittney would run off laughing. I was always the one left behind, picking up the scattered flower petals one by one, putting them back into the basket. Nobody ever stayed to help me. Nobody ever asked if I was tired. I called my landlord and told him I was moving out today. “Are you sure?” he asked, surprised. “You have been here for over four years.” Four years. When Guy and I first started dating seriously, he wanted me to move into his place. Brittney told me it was bad luck to live together before marriage. I agreed that maintaining some personal space was healthy. So I rented this apartment just a few blocks from his corporate office, hoping it would make it easier to see him. He loved the idea. Sometimes he would crash here after a late night at work. This apartment held the evidence of our love. Our fights. Our comfortable silences. And countless memories of his back as he rushed out the door to work. “Yes. Moving out today,” I said firmly. He sighed and told me to leave the keys in the mailbox. Not long after I hung up, the lock clicked. The front door swung open. Guy walked in, with Brittney trailing right behind him. Brittney turned to him with a bright smile. “We agreed on this, right? I get the spare bedroom with the bay window in your new house. But I am changing the curtains to blush pink.” I stood frozen in the middle of the living room. I thought my ears were playing tricks on me. She said it so naturally. As if moving into our marital home and claiming a room for herself was a universal given. Guy didn’t object. He looked at her with pure indulgence. “As long as Adam is fine with it.” “My sister loves me. Why would she care?” I stared at them. Something tight in my chest suddenly snapped. “What if I say I do care?” The room went dead silent for two full seconds. Brittney froze. It was probably the first time she had ever heard me say the word no. Before she even opened her mouth, her eyes filled with glossy tears. Guy’s expression darkened instantly. “Adam, what is wrong with you? You usually give her anything she wants. Now you are going to pick a fight over a spare bedroom?” “I am not picking a fight,” I said evenly. “Then what the hell is this?” He frowned, stepping forward. “What is the big deal if Brittney moves in? She is your sister, not a stranger. The house is massive. The room is just going to sit empty anyway.” “It is our marital home. Is she marrying you?” I asked. The question caught him off guard. He choked on his words. Brittney sniffled, her voice dropping to a pathetic whisper. “Adam… I just wanted to be close to you. If you hate the idea that much, fine. I won’t move in.” Guy shot her a sympathetic look before turning his glare on me. “Look what you did. You broke her heart over nothing. She is a young woman navigating the city alone, and she is your blood. Can you stop being so selfish for one second?” “Who is looking out for me?” I raised my chin, meeting his angry stare. “You got her a high paying job at your firm. She has zero worries. What do I have? I only have—” “Enough.” Guy’s tone turned ice cold. He took another step toward me, towering over my space. “Be reasonable. I only went out of my way to take care of her because of you. Do you really need to be this petty?” Petty. A hollow laugh escaped my throat. I pressed my lips together and stopped talking. Brittney gently tugged at his sleeve. “Guy, stop. She is probably just stressed about the wedding.” He patted her hand, his voice instantly softening. “Adam, I have already made the call. Brittney moving in is a good thing. You two won’t have to be separated.” I nodded slowly. Whatever. It was their house anyway. I wasn’t going to live in it. Guy exhaled, looking relieved. Brittney wiped a stray tear and offered him a fragile smile. I turned my back to them and walked into my bedroom to pack. From the living room, I heard Brittney’s voice chime again. “Can I really get the pink curtains?” Guy chuckled softly. “Whatever you want.” That afternoon, I drove to Guy’s corporate headquarters. Inside my leather tote bag was his security badge, his office keys, and a stack of client portfolios he had asked me to organize for him. The receptionist at the front desk beamed when she saw me. “Hi Adam! Let me buzz Mr. Vance and let him know you are here.” “No need,” I said, placing the heavy stack of items on the marble counter. “Just make sure he gets these.” I turned on my heel and walked toward the exit. As I passed the glass doors of the stairwell, I heard Guy’s voice echoing from the landing below. I slowed my pace. “Saturday? To go get your nails done?” My fingers went numb. A second later, his voice drifted up, laced with easy amusement. “I know, I know. You want to look perfect for the wedding. I will go with you. I will smooth things over with your sister.” I let out a bitter breath. I had already decided to walk away. Why was I still expecting him to do the right thing? We had a promise. Before we got married, we were going to drive up to the mountains and watch the sunrise together. It was a date we planned years ago but never managed to pull off. He promised me last winter. Then he delayed it to spring. Then he pushed it to the week before the wedding. We finally locked in this Saturday. And now, he was canceling on me again. To watch Brittney get a manicure. I didn’t stay to hear the rest. I pushed through the revolving doors, got into my car, and drove straight out of the city, heading back to my rural hometown. The next morning, I was sweeping the front porch when Aunt Sarah walked up the driveway. “Adam, honey, put the broom down and rest.” I shook my head and told her I was almost done. Aunt Sarah grabbed my hands and squeezed them tight. “You have suffered so much playing the responsible older sister,” she sighed, her eyes filled with years of unspoken pity. “Brittney was adopted, yes, but you treated her like your own flesh and blood. You gave up everything for her, and that girl just took and took without an ounce of gratitude.” She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “The whole family sees it. We just didn’t want to stir the pot and make things harder for you. But it’s over now. You are finally getting married. You are getting your own life.” I offered a polite smile and changed the subject. A little while later, I looked at her. “Aunt Sarah, you and Uncle Thomas should move into this house. It will fall apart if it sits empty.” She blinked in confusion. “Empty? You are getting married, but you will still come back to visit.” She chuckled. “I know you and Guy have that massive house in the city, but you still need a place to sleep when you come home for the holidays.” I just nodded, but I firmly pressed the spare keys into her palm. She thought I was just being generous. She tried to refuse, but I didn’t explain. I just knew that once I left this time, it would be years before I ever came back. As evening approached, Guy arrived to fulfill the traditional pre-wedding visit to the bride’s family. Brittney was practically skipping behind him. When they saw me sitting on the porch, they both froze. “Adam, what are you doing here?” His tone made it sound like I was trespassing. But I was the bride. I was at my uncle’s house. Where else was I supposed to be? Oh, right. He was used to it. It didn’t matter if I was there. As long as Brittney was with him, everything was fine. Brittney recovered quickly and looped her arm through mine. “Adam, perfect timing! Guy said he needed to visit Uncle Thomas, and I had nothing better to do, so I tagged along.” I didn’t respond. Brittney hated this small town. She avoided coming back at all costs. Yet here she was, days before the wedding. I didn’t know if she was here to support me, or for another reason entirely. It didn’t matter anymore. Inside the house, Uncle Thomas poured tea and chatted with Guy. Brittney sat right next to Guy. She poured his refills, laughed at his jokes, and chimed into the conversation effortlessly. I sat in the corner like an old piece of furniture. Nobody looked at me. I glanced down at my phone. Guy had sent me a text. “I have been swamped with wedding prep these last two days, sorry if I neglected you. But why did you run off to your hometown without telling me?” Neglected me? His tone sounded more like a scolding. Like I was being immature for disappearing. He was constantly active in the group chat, but he rarely texted me directly. He rarely asked if I had eaten, what I was doing, or if I was happy. That was why he didn’t know I went to his office. He didn’t know I left the city. He didn’t know, because he never bothered to ask. My thumbs hovered over the keyboard. I typed two words. “Stay busy.” Whatever he was busy with had nothing to do with me anyway. The visit wrapped up. Uncle Thomas stood up to walk them to the door. He clapped Guy on the shoulder. “According to our town’s tradition, it is bad luck to see the bride three days before the wedding. Don’t come looking for Adam until the ceremony. We want a blessed marriage.” Guy nodded respectfully. Uncle Thomas turned to me. “Adam, pack your bags and ride back to the city with them. You should prep at your apartment so there is no rushing on the big day. We will see you at the post wedding brunch.” I wanted to say no, but the earnest look in his eyes stopped me. I swallowed my refusal. I walked back into my bedroom to grab my suitcase and double check the drawers. When I finally rolled my luggage out to the front yard, Guy’s car was already gone. I stood in the empty driveway for a few seconds. My phone buzzed. A text from Guy. “Brittney was anxious to go check out the floral arrangements at the venue, so I took her. I honestly forgot you were there. Just drive your own car back.” Forgot. Guy, how could you forget me again? I dragged my suitcase down the dirt road to the highway and ordered an Uber. The wedding was scheduled for Monday. Guy glanced at the GPS on his dashboard and turned to Brittney. “Are you sure this is the right hotel to pick up the bride?” “Positive. I sent the address to my sister days ago.” “This place is high end, and it is closer to the venue. Picking her up here makes way more sense than navigating the traffic to her tiny apartment,” Guy reasoned. “You always handle things perfectly,” he added. “Unlike your sister. She is like a brick wall. Uncle Thomas mentioned the superstition about not seeing each other, and she actually took it seriously. She hasn’t replied to a single text for three days.” Guy pulled up to the grand entrance. Brittney hopped out of the passenger seat effortlessly. “Let’s go. She is probably pacing the floor waiting for us.” Noah jogged up behind them, his heavy camera bouncing against his chest. “Brittney, you are supposed to ride with me today. The passenger seat is for the bride.” “No way,” Brittney teased, sticking her tongue out at him. “Guy drives smoother. I get carsick in your jeep.” Guy shook his head with an affectionate smile. “You are impossible.” They walked into the luxurious hotel lobby. Guy led the charge to the front desk, Brittney right beside him. Noah automatically lifted his camera, snapping candid shots of them walking together. The receptionist offered a polished smile. “Good morning. How can I help you?” “We are here for the bride,” Guy said smoothly. “Room 302. Under the name Adam.” The receptionist typed quietly on her keyboard. She frowned and checked the screen again. She looked up. “I apologize, sir. We do not have anyone checked in under that name.”

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1 “Three years married. Is it truly irretrievably broken?” the judge asked, his voice echoing in the sterile courtroom. I gave a bitter smile and slid my wedding band off, placing it on the oak table. It landed with a hollow clink. “Three years married. Three years separated.” I looked up, my eyes dry. “Your Honor, is there anything left to save?” We dated five years. I was pinned at the top of his messages, his emergency contact, the sole beneficiary of his life insurance. I thought I chose right. But on our wedding day, he received a call. His face went pale. His mother was gravely ill. He left immediately, flying home. For three years, he texted daily photos of his meals. His mother never appeared. My heart ached; I offered to quit my job and help care for her. He sounded tender, claiming he couldn’t bear to see me exhausted. Until last month. Scrolling TikTok, I found a vlogger—a cancer survivor documenting recovery. And there was Brent. The caption read: He is my first sight each morning. My companion for every meal. These hands holding mine are his. What about me? For over a thousand days, I only had myself. He lied. The judge raised the gavel. “Absolutely certain?” I nodded heavily. When the marriage dissolved, I stared at the decree. The walls around my heart collapsed, and the tears finally came. Brent, I’m setting you free. And freeing myself. … “Is it done?” My mother rushed up to me the moment I stepped out of the courthouse. “It’s done.” “He still did not show up?” “No.” “Does he even know?” I shook my head. “The court issued a public notice for sixty days. They could not reach him. I figure he did not have the time to check his mail anyway.” My mother’s voice choked up. “Because of Lily?” “Yeah. She was undergoing surgery at the time. Life or death.” My mother wiped the corners of her eyes. “So… is she going to get better now?” “Maybe.” “Barfly, do you still love him?” I looked out at the busy street. “For three years, he took care of her every single meal without fail. Mom, he might have a place for me in his heart, but he has a place for her too.” My mother’s face wrinkled with sorrow, but she said nothing more. Five years ago, we met in a hospital. Back then, he was already the most sought after thoracic surgeon in the state. I was just his patient. Every morning at eight, he would lead a team of doctors in for rounds. His eyes never lingered on me. But every time, he would leave a piece of candy on my bedside table. He said the medicine was bitter, and a little sugar would make it bearable. On the day I was discharged, Brent came to do the rounds alone. He told me I was completely fine and would not need to come back. I could not hide the disappointment in my eyes. But his next words left me frozen in place. “You are no longer my patient. Does that mean I can ask you out now?” Back then, the entire hospital knew Dr. Brent was crazy about me. During my one month stay, he swapped every shift he could just to get an extra glimpse of me. Most days, he worked back to back day and night shifts. Just so he could ask me how I was feeling that day. “Ding.” The elevator doors slid open, pulling me out of my memories. I stepped into my apartment. My phone screen lit up. It was Brent. He sent a photo. A boarding pass from San Diego to Seattle. The date was for tomorrow. A second later, another text popped up. “Wifey, I will be home soon!” I stood in the entryway, staring at those words for a very long time. Last year, my appendix burst. When I was rushed to the ER, I sent him a very similar text. The only difference was that mine was a question. “Hubby, can you come home?” My phone stayed dead silent for an entire day. Later, I saw him in Lily’s vlog. He looked nervous, his brow furrowed in concentration. As the camera zoomed out, I saw him carefully piping frosting onto a cake. It read, “To Lily, a lifetime of health.” Three years. On the exact day I finally decided to give up on him, he told me he was coming home. I opened the door, bent down to change my shoes, and looked around the apartment. Everywhere I looked, I only saw traces of myself. The unworn men’s slippers in the shoe cabinet had been sitting there for three years. The clothes hanging on the balcony balcony were all mine. There were a few things that belonged to him. But there was nothing that belonged to us. I opened the most liked video pinned to the top of Lily’s page. It was a tour of their home in San Diego. Neatly arranged by the door were two pairs of matching house slippers. Pink and blue. The soles of the blue ones were worn down. Their clothes hung together on the balcony, looking exactly like a married couple’s laundry. The camera panned down to reveal a vibrant, colorful garden. Lily stepped into the frame, her smile blindingly bright, introducing them one by one. Roses, daisies, sunflowers, bougainvillea. Brent planted them all for her. Not for any special reason, but just because he wanted to see her smile. During our second year living together, I bought some potted plants for our balcony too. He forgot to water them every single time. I once asked him why he could not put a little effort into it. He replied without looking up. “They are just flowers, Barfly.” Just flowers. That was only reserved for me. He simply did not care enough when it came to me. I dialed his number. The line connected. “Brent, we are already div…” “Sorry, I am not him.” It was Lily. “Who is this?” I asked, my voice flat. “I am Brent’s friend.” I stayed silent for a few seconds. “Did you need something from him? He was up all night packing his luggage, he did not sleep at all. Just tell me what it is.” I let out a self deprecating laugh. Just as I was about to hang up, Brent’s voice drifted over the line. “Who is it?” “I think it is… your wife.” Brent took the phone. “Barfly, is everything okay?” “Who is she?” The line went dead silent for a long time. “A friend.” “Just a friend?” “Yes, just a friend. Do not overthink it.” “Are you… coming back together?” “Yeah. Her health is fragile. I am a doctor, I can keep an eye on her during the flight.” The airport boarding announcement echoed in the background. “Oh, right. You like flowers, right? I bought you a little seedling.” Before I could say anything, he hung up. I walked out to the balcony. The flower pot sat on the rack, the soil inside dry and cracked. The wind blew, stirring up the dust. It was no longer fit for growing anything. My phone lit up again. It was from Brent. Just four words. “Boarding now. Do not disturb.” He had sent me those exact words three hundred and fifty six times. Every time he could not be bothered to deal with me, that was his go to phrase. When Lily was in surgery, he sent this. And now, he sent it again. I whispered into the empty air. “Never again.” Brent arrived at ten the next morning. His hair was shorter, and there were faint dark circles under his eyes, but his entire aura felt softer. Gentler. I froze for a second. He chuckled softly and pulled me into a loose embrace. “It has been three years. Did you forget what your husband looks like?” “Yeah.” He ruffled my hair. “Heartless. And here I thought of you and brought you a flower.” It was a single, straight stem with a few sparse green leaves. No flower in sight. Clatter. I looked down at the sound. A white plastic pill bottle rolled across the floor. Omeprazole. Prescription strength stomach medicine. “Yours?” “No, it belongs to… Lily.” “Your friend?” “Yeah.” “Is she sick?” “Yeah, a really severe condition. When the pain hits, she cannot keep anything down.” “Why are her pills in your pocket?” “Must have grabbed them by mistake.” He was lying again. Brent took my hand and led me to the balcony. “Let’s not talk about that. Let’s get this planted.” He stared at the cracked, bone dry soil and frowned slightly. “It’s fine. I will have Lily bring over some good potting soil later.” “Is your mom feeling better?” “She is… pretty much recovered.” “When do you have time to take me to see her?” His grip on the plant tightened. “Next time.” He was lying again. I did not say another word. At eight that evening, the nursing home called. It was Brent’s grandmother. After dinner, he told me he was going for a walk and had not returned. “Barfly, Brent left his phone here. Come pick it up.” “He went to see you just now?” “Yes, and he brought a friend.” “Lily?” “That’s right.” “You know her?” “I knew her before I even met you. I watched that girl grow up.” “Do you like her, Nana?” “Of course I do. Whatever my grandson likes, I like.” A sharp sting hit the bridge of my nose. “Nana, since you like her so much, she should visit you more often from now on, don’t you think?” “Absolutely not.” I paused. “Brent could not bear it. Let her rest. You are the one for the dirty work, Barfly.” It felt like something was lodged in my throat. I could not speak for a long time. But she was Brent’s grandmother. Not mine. For the three years we were married, I took care of her for three years. When she was bedridden and could not move, I was the one cleaning up after her. When she needed her medicine, I was the one spoon feeding her. Her sharp mind and good health were the results of my endless exhaustion. Once, I called Brent and begged him to come back and help. He just said, “I have you, don’t I?” Because of that one sentence, I treated her like my own flesh and blood. Later, when her condition required professional care and she moved to the facility, Brent called specifically to scold me for sending her away. Three years of my life, traded for his simple excuse. He could not bear to let Lily tire herself out. “Nana, it is getting late. You should sleep.” “Alright. Tomorrow is my birthday. Remember to tell Lily to come over for dinner.” The call ended, and the apartment fell back into dead silence. Brent came home at ten. “Nana said you left your phone in her room.” He paused halfway through taking off his shoes. “You know?” “Why did she go with you?” “Do not misunderstand. She felt bad for Nana, so I brought her along to say hi.” “You brought her, but not me?” “You see her all the time, don’t you?” “It is different.” He gave me a bewildered look. “What is the difference?” “The meaning is different.” I went out of duty, offering myself up. He brought her out of a desire to include her in his life. It was different. “Okay, okay. Let’s not fight, alright? Whatever you say goes. I will listen to you from now on.” His face was a mask of indulgence, acting as if I was the one running the show. During our three years of separation, that was his favorite line. What to buy for the house, I make the call. Nana’s medical decisions, I make the call. Even the wedding ring I never got to wear, I had to figure it out myself. The doorbell rang. Brent went to get it. Lily stood in the hallway. She wore a flowing white sundress, holding Brent’s phone up and swaying it playfully. “What are you doing here?” “Bringing you your phone. Nana specifically called to remind me.” Brent’s tone was light and breezy. The curve of his smile matched the one on Lily’s face perfectly. In just three years, they had adopted each other’s mannerisms. They looked like the married couple. But I was his wife. Brent’s eyes landed on her bare shoulders. He frowned. “Wait here.” He walked right past me, crossed the living room, and went into the guest bedroom. When he came out, he had a shawl in his hands. “I am going to walk her home. Go to sleep first.” He said that to me. “Are you coming back?” “Of course.” He shook the shawl open and draped it over Lily’s shoulders with practiced ease. It was a warm yellow fabric covered in tiny floral prints. It was Lily’s favorite color. “It looks beautiful,” I said. Lily chimed in immediately. “Brent bought it. He has great taste. Barfly, you really need to take him shopping with you next time.” “Did he pick out that white dress for you too?” “Yeah. Do you like it?” “It looks great.” A week before we got our marriage license, I told him I wanted to buy a white dress and asked him to come with me. He made a million excuses to get out of it. When I pushed him, he finally snapped. “Real men do not go shopping.” But it turned out, it just depended on who he was shopping with. The elevator arrived. Brent escorted Lily out. Once again, I was the only person left in this home. After a while, I sent him a text. “Come back soon. I need to talk to you.” “About what? Lily is scared of the dark, so it might be a while before I head back. Just text it to me.” “Are you in love with Lily?” “Stop talking nonsense. She is just a friend.” “You go shopping with her. You take her to see your grandmother. You never shopped with me, and you never took me with you to visit her. She acts more like your wife than I do.” A few seconds later, my phone rang. It was him. “You are making a huge deal out of nothing. Are you really suspecting us over this?” “It is not a misunderstanding.” “Fine, it is my fault. Lily told me you lacked a sense of security. We have been apart for three years. I do not blame you for being paranoid.” “She said that?” “That does not matter. What matters is that you are the one I married. We have a long, long time to be together.” His breathing grew rushed. “Lily just got her hot dog. We really have to get walking. Do not overthink it, I will be home soon.” A long time? Did three years count as long? He spent three years in San Diego keeping Lily company, while I stayed in Seattle alone. I went home alone, worked alone, and took care of his dying grandmother alone. I whispered into the dark room. “It was long enough.” He did not come home that night. The next day, I went to work and handed in my resignation. When I got home, Brent was walking through the door. “You did not come home last night?” “It got way too late. I did not want to wake you up, so I just crashed on her couch. You are not mad, right?” “I am not mad.” “Oh, by the way, today is Nana’s birthday. She invited Lily over. You do not mind, right?” “I do not mind.” “That is my Barfly. Always so understanding.” It was not understanding. I just simply did not care anymore. At six that evening, I came home to find Nana and Lily already sitting in the living room. Lily was sitting right next to Nana, and Brent was on Lily’s other side. I stopped in my tracks. The front door was still open, letting in a draft of cold air. Brent frowned and took off his jacket, draping it over Lily’s legs. “Close the door!” His tone was sharp. I closed it quietly and took the seat furthest away from their little family circle. “Two Lilies?” Nana’s dementia was acting up again. “Nana, I am the real Lily,” she corrected with a sweet laugh. “Oh, look at my memory. Lily, my sweet girl, you finally came back. Brent waited for you for a very long time.” “I know. I am back now.” “When are you two getting married? I have the wedding gifts all prepared.” “Nana, you are confused again. Barfly is Brent’s wife.” She offered the explanation. But as she spoke, Nana took her hand and placed it directly over Brent’s. “It is getting late. I am going to start dinner. What does everyone want to eat?” Brent stood up. He asked the room, but his eyes were entirely fixed on Lily. “I want garlic butter shrimp.” Brent’s face darkened. Lily’s health was fragile, and her doctor had strictly forbidden heavy seafood. She shrank back a little, flashing an apologetic, pleading smile. “Whatever you make, I will love it.” His expression softened. He gave her a look that was equal parts warning and absolute devotion. Their dynamic was domestic and intimate. They had completely turned this place into their own home. Lily turned to look at me. “You have not asked what Barfly wants to eat.” “She is not high maintenance like you. She eats whatever.” Eats whatever? He just never took the time to learn what I actually liked. The food was brought out. Stir fried greens, steamed shrimp, herbal chicken soup, sweet and sour ribs. A feast. Brent stood up, took Nana’s bowl, and scooped some soup for her. “Nana, the big drumstick, just the way you like it.” Then he placed a piece of sweet and sour rib into Lily’s bowl. “Do not eat too much of this. The doctor said you need to watch your red meat intake.” When it came to me, he hesitated. Not knowing what to say, he silently scooped a spoonful of plain greens onto my plate. Lily giggled. “Barfly likes greens?” “I told you, she is easy. She eats whatever is in front of her.” But I hated greens. Nana, feeling sorry for him, pulled his sleeve and put a piece of meat into his bowl. “Stop serving everyone and sit down to eat.” “Nana, he just finished cooking. He cannot stomach heavy meat right now. It makes him nauseous.” “What should he have then?” “Oh, it passes. A bowl of clear broth will settle his stomach.” As Lily spoke, she pushed a small bowl of hot, clear broth right in front of him. Three years. It was enough time for him to know Lily inside out. And for Lily to know him. I felt like an intruder. I never knew Brent could cook. I certainly never knew he needed clear broth after spending time in the kitchen. He was sitting right there at the table. But he felt thousands of miles away. After dinner, I went into the kitchen to wash the dishes. Lily walked in, carrying a stack of plates. “Barfly.” “Yes?” “I saw the court notice online.” “And?” “I just wanted to say you are misunderstanding Brent. If I had not gotten sick, he never would have…” “Never would have what?” “Look, we are not what you think.” “What are you, then?” “We are just friends.” “If you are just his friend, why did not you tell him about the notice?” Lily froze, her eyes darting away from mine. “I… I was sick. I needed him.” “I saw your vlogs. Let me ask you this. If you were me, what would you think? Friends? Lovers? Husband and wife?” “We are not as dirty as you think. He never did anything to betray you. Not once.” “So this doesn’t count as betrayal?” “Like I said, we are just friends.” She turned to leave, but stopped by the door. “The potting soil Brent wanted me to bring… I left it by the balcony. Use it or throw it away, I don’t care.” Soon, the sound of easy laughter drifted from the living room. I dried my hands and walked out to the balcony. The sad little stem was still lying on the floor. A small plastic bag of rich black dirt sat next to it. The plant was Lily’s. The soil was Lily’s. Only the empty ceramic pot belonged to me. He had only been back for two days, yet this apartment was already suffocating under the weight of Lily’s presence. I walked out and sat quietly in the corner of the living room. The laughter slowly died down. Brent stood up, holding Lily’s purse. “Let’s go. I will drive you home.” He turned back to me. “I will leave Nana to you.” “Why are you the one driving her? Why not me?” “Don’t you hate her?” So he knew everything. I forced a smile and nodded. “Sure.” The drive to the nursing home was painfully quiet. As we pulled into the driveway, Nana suddenly spoke. “Lily left him back then because she did not want to drag him down with her illness. If she had stayed, you never would have had a chance.” My knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. “I know.” “Now that Brent is back, you two need to live a good life together.” I kept my mouth shut. The silence stretched until we parked. The nurses helped Nana back to her room. I turned and walked straight to the front desk. “Ms. Jiang, do you need to update anything?” the head nurse asked. “Yes. Change her emergency contact.” “Of course. Who should we put down?” “Brent. He is her biological grandson.” The nurse put her pen down. “Done. It is updated in the system.” Saturday morning. I was on the balcony. Brent walked over, yawning. “Barfly, what are you doing?” Dirt covered the tiles. The flower pot was empty. “You are awake. Plant this with me.” “Sure. That seedling has been sitting there for days, what brought this on?” “I just felt like it. Will you help?” “Of course.” He rolled up his sleeves and took the small trowel from my hand. I held the stem upright, watching his face intently. “Why are you staring at me like that?” “It has been a long time since I really looked at you.” “We have all the time in the world now.” “Brent, do you remember what you said to me when you proposed three years ago?” “Of course I remember.” “Can you say it again?” He dusted the dirt off his hands, his eyes incredibly soft. “Okay. Barfly, I imagined a thousand ways to ask you this, but none of them captured how desperately I want you. I want you to be the first person I see when I open my eyes, and the last person I see when I close them. Barfly, I love you. Will you marry me?” The doorbell rang. He stood up to get it. Halfway across the living room, he stopped and looked back. “I am still waiting for your answer.” He opened the door. It was Lily. She did not say a single word. She just shoved a thick medical file into his chest. Brent whipped his head back toward me. “I am sorry. I cannot stay with you today.” “Why?” “I cannot let her go to her check up alone.” “Why can’t she go alone?” “You don’t understand. With her condition, she needs someone there.” He rushed to the sink, washed the mud off his hands, grabbed his car keys, and turned for the door. I called out to his back. “Don’t you want my answer?” “We are already married. The answer does not matter anymore.” “What about the flower?” “Wait for me to come back, okay?” Before I could say another word, the door slammed shut, and he was gone. “We are divorced.” I whispered to the empty room. “And I am done waiting.” I sat cross legged on the cold balcony tiles. I swept up the dry dirt, and the rich black soil Lily had brought. I pulled the seedling out of the pot. I threw all of it into the trash can. My phone lit up. A text from Brent. “Barfly, do not worry. I will not disappear like I did three years ago. Wait for me to come home and cook for you.” I stared at the glowing letters for a long time. I pressed my thumb down on the message and hit delete. Then I went to his profile and blocked his number. I erased every trace of our shared history from my phone. I made a phone call. I hired a moving company. Within half an hour, the truck was parked outside, and the men were standing in my living room. “Miss, what are we taking?” “Everything.” The TV, the fridge, the appliances filled a third of the truck. The couch, the dining table, our wedding bed took up another third. Whatever was left did not matter anymore. I bought every single piece of furniture in this house over the last three years. I refused to leave a single thing behind for him. I left the court issued divorce decree on the bare kitchen island. I left a note beside it. “Brent, you paid for the house, and I am not greedy. Keep it. But I bought everything inside it, and I am not leaving any of it for you. Congratulations to you and Lily.” I slung my duffel bag over my shoulder and walked out the door without looking back. Downstairs, my rented RV was fueled and ready. I turned the ignition. The engine roared to life. Suddenly, a familiar figure darted into the street. The screeching of tires shattered the morning air. “Barfly!”

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The day the financial aid grants were disbursed to our bank accounts, I was just about to wire the money to my hospitalized grandpa. Suddenly, a strange voice echoed right inside my head. [The Transfer System said as long as someone consumes something I give them, I can quietly siphon away their money.] [Noah just got his financial aid drop today. Let’s test it out on him. If the transfer actually works, I can finally use that cash to cop the designer suit I’ve been eyeing.] That voice… it unmistakably belonged to my roommate, Blake. Frowning, I was just about to turn my head to look at him when a chilled bottle of water was suddenly set down on my desk. Blake was smiling, his eyes curving with exaggerated warmth. “Hey Noah, thanks for grabbing my packages from the mailroom yesterday. Have some water on me.” A second later, his giddy inner voice rang in my ears again. [Drink it. Come on, drink it! The second that water hits your stomach, your cash belongs to me!] Looking at the poorly concealed greed and eager anticipation burning in his eyes, a sharp spike of fury ignited in my chest. That grant money was my grandpa’s literal lifeline. Blake knew exactly what that money was meant for. With a completely blank expression, I reached out and took the bottle. You want to drain my bank account? Fine. I will let you drain more than you could ever possibly stomach. 1 Seeing me take the water, Blake’s smile grew even wider. I could practically feel the burning intensity of his gaze locked onto my hands. His inner voice was practically buzzing with impatience. [Hurry up and twist the cap! You’re killing me here. Just one sip and that five thousand dollars is mine. I can finally secure those rare sneakers I’ve been obsessing over!] I casually lifted my eyes to look at Blake. He wore a perfectly crafted mask of friendly innocence, but the desperate greed in his pupils betrayed him completely. I let out a cold laugh in my head, keeping my face perfectly composed as I offered him a faint, polite smile. “Thanks, man. How much was it? I’ll Venmo you.” My tone was flat, completely devoid of any real emotion. Blake waved his hands frantically, his smile turning sickeningly sweet. “Oh, come on! We’re roommates, we live together! It’s literally just a bottle of water, don’t insult me by bringing up money. Drink up, man. I just took it out of the mini-fridge, it’ll cool you right down.” [Venmo me? Are you an idiot? As long as you drink it, your entire five-thousand-dollar grant is mine! Trading a two-dollar bottle of water for five grand is the easiest scam of my life!] I swept my gaze over him, taking in his entire outfit. He was wearing a brand-new pair of limited-edition sneakers today. I had seen them online before. Retail was a couple of grand, but resale prices had skyrocketed to nearly six thousand dollars. Strapped to his wrist was the latest Apple Watch Ultra. My other roommate had looked it up before, and it cost close to a thousand bucks. His family’s wealth eclipsed mine by miles, yet he was intentionally targeting the exact money meant to keep my dying grandfather breathing. I set the water bottle near the edge of my desk, my voice entirely indifferent. “I’m actually not thirsty right now. I’ll save it for later.” The smile on Blake’s face froze for a fraction of a second, but he quickly masked it, nodding enthusiastically. “Yeah, sure thing! Just leave it there. Drink it whenever.” Right on cue, his mental voice pierced my ears again, revealing the exact, twisted mechanics of his system. [This guy is so difficult! Why couldn’t the stupid rule just be that he has to ‘accept’ the item to trigger the transfer?] [Plus, it takes a full two hours after consumption for the funds to actually hit my account. So slow.] [But at least the system automatically wipes all the bank logs and leaves zero digital trace. That part is pretty sweet.] I looked down at the plastic bottle resting on my desk, a glacial chill flashing through my eyes. You want to swallow my grandfather’s medical funds? Then I will make sure you get a profound taste of what unchecked greed really costs. Right in front of Blake, I unzipped my backpack and shoved the bottle into the side pocket. “I have to head to my campus job. See you.” I swung my backpack over my shoulder, keeping my tone casual. Blake nodded along, playing the caring friend. “Don’t work too hard, dude. Make sure you get some rest!” [Perfect! He took the water with him. As long as he takes a sip on his shift, that five grand is secured.] [The second the money clears, I am ordering those sneakers. I am so sick of watching other guys flex them on campus!] I didn’t bother looking back, tossing a vague hum of acknowledgment over my shoulder as I pushed the dorm door open and walked out. When I arrived at the university’s main dining hall kitchen, the head chef, Maria, was already chatting away. “This bisque right here… this is the main event. A massive tech billionaire who’s attending the Alumni Gala today specifically requested it. Said he missed it from his college days. We used the most expensive, premium ingredients for this batch. I’ll save you a bowl later so you can taste it.” Maria smiled warmly at me while continuously stirring the massive, steaming industrial pot. I smiled back. “Thanks, Maria. That sounds amazing.” Staring into that giant vat of rich, aromatic soup, the corners of my mouth slowly curled upward. When no one was looking, I pulled the water bottle from my bag, unscrewed the cap, and poured every last drop directly into the boiling bisque. 2 With the water safely disposed of, I immediately threw myself into my kitchen duties. The dining hall was an absolute madhouse during the lunch rush. A relentless tide of students and faculty poured through the doors, keeping me on my feet until the early afternoon. The moment I pushed my dorm room door open later that day, the first thing I saw was Blake sitting perfectly upright at his desk. His eyes locked onto me instantly. They were burning with an intense, jittery urgency, like a predator that had been waiting hours for its prey to return. Before I could even take my backpack off, Blake jumped up and practically sprinted over to me. He was holding an artisan pastry from a high-end bakery, his smile looking completely strained but desperate. “Noah! You must be dead on your feet after working all morning. You have to be starving, right? I just bought this pastry, grab a bite to hold you over.” The very next second, his inner voice flooded my mind. [I have no idea if he actually drank the water or not. If he didn’t, I need to force him to eat something else. I can’t risk it!] [Plus, if this works, I might not just get his financial aid grant… I might be able to siphon whatever wages he earned from his shift today too! Might as well drain every penny I can!] Listening to his parasitic, bottomless calculations, a violent wave of disgust rose in my throat. It wasn’t enough that he was targeting my scholarship money. He was actually trying to steal the minimum-wage blood money I had just spent hours standing on my feet to earn. I clamped down on my anger, letting a noticeable layer of frost enter my voice. I rejected him flat out. “No thanks. I ate a staff meal in the kitchen before I left. I’m completely full.” Blake’s outstretched hand froze in midair. His overly eager smile collapsed instantly, and he awkwardly pulled the pastry back. He walked back to his desk in sullen silence. The atmosphere in the room immediately thickened with awkward tension. Tyler, our third roommate, was sitting on his bed. He had always thought of me as an antisocial loser. Always looking for a reason to pick a fight, Tyler immediately seized the opportunity to play the hero for Blake. His voice dripped with aggressive judgment. “Noah, what is your actual problem?” “Blake is trying to be a decent guy. He gave you water this morning, and now he’s offering you expensive food because he knows you work hard. Why do you have to be such an ungrateful prick?” I lifted my gaze to meet Tyler’s, my voice perfectly level but carrying an unyielding weight. “I am not being ungrateful. I already thanked him for the gesture.” “I told him I already ate and I’m not hungry. Refusing food I don’t want… is that a crime now?” Sitting nearby, Blake’s mental complaints were loud and grating, full of irritable frustration. [Noah is so damn annoying! He’s like a brick wall. He refuses to eat or drink anything I give him.] [If I knew it was going to be this much of a hassle, I would have picked someone else for the experiment. This is a massive waste of my time!] Tyler wasn’t ready to let it go. He crossed his arms and sneered, his tone growing even more mocking. “You’re just acting like you’re above us! You never hang out with us, and you think just because you get top grades, you can look down on everyone else.” “Now you think you’re too good to accept a simple favor?” He paused, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “I bet you took that water he gave you this morning and threw it straight in the trash.” I kept my eyes crystal clear, staring directly into his. My voice was calm and deliberate. “Stop projecting your own toxic assumptions onto me. And for the record, I already drank the water.” The moment those words left my mouth, Blake’s dejected posture vanished. His pupils dilated with sheer electricity. The corners of his mouth twitched, threatening to break into a massive, manic grin that he could barely suppress. He immediately forced his expression into a mask of friendly neutrality, stepping in to play the generous peacemaker. “Alright, alright, guys! Tyler, back off a bit. Noah didn’t mean anything by it, he’s probably just genuinely full. We all live in the same room, there’s no reason to start a fight over a piece of bread.” [Yes! Yes! It actually worked! He drank the water, which means that five grand is basically sitting in my pocket!] [Once that money clears, I am ordering the sneakers instantly. Then, I’ll buy a bunch of premium snacks and drinks for Tyler and the other guys in the hall. I’ll drain all their monthly allowances too!] [If I pull this off a few more times, I can finally upgrade to that top-tier graphics card! This is literally perfect!] I watched his hypocritical, smiling face in silence. Listening to the sickening depth of his greed, my heart felt nothing but absolute, freezing indifference. 3 My brief lunch break ended quickly. I grabbed my uniform and headed straight back to the dining hall for the second half of my shift. By now, the morning sessions of the University Alumni Gala had concluded. All the invited guests, the university board members, corporate titans, and wealthy donors, were being ushered into the dining hall for the catered luncheon. The hall was packed to the brim, humming with energetic conversation. Not only were there VIP guests whose net worths defied imagination, but hundreds of student volunteers and faculty members were also present. The massive dining space didn’t have a single empty seat. Everyone was carrying trays, lining up to be served the legendary gourmet bisque. Taking advantage of a brief lull in the kitchen, I discreetly pulled out my phone and opened my banking app. My balance read: $0.00. The system’s theft had successfully activated. I swallowed every ounce of panic and anger, slipping my phone away, and went right back to serving soup to the billionaires, professors, and students with methodical precision. By 2:00 PM, the lunch rush finally died down. The crowd began migrating over to the Main Auditorium for the keynote speeches from the distinguished alumni. I changed out of my uniform and followed the crowd, taking a seat near the back of the auditorium. Blake and Tyler happened to be sitting just a few rows away from me. Halfway through the event, an incredibly successful tech CEO was speaking passionately on stage. The audience was silent, hanging onto his every word. Suddenly, a few frantic whispers broke the quiet atmosphere. “Wait, why is my Apple Pay declining? I’m trying to pay for my Amazon cart, but it says insufficient funds.” A girl sitting in the row ahead of me was staring at her phone in total confusion, her voice a harsh whisper. Her friend immediately leaned in, her tone laced with rising panic. “Me too! My parents wired me two thousand dollars for rent just yesterday! I tried to order a coffee on the app and my entire bank account is completely empty! What is going on?!” More and more panicked murmurs began rippling through the rows of seating. Right at that moment, down in the front-row VIP section, a corporate tycoon in a bespoke tailored suit shot up from his seat. He was clutching his phone, his face completely drained of blood. His voice trembled violently. Because he was sitting so close to the stage microphones, his panicked words echoed clearly across the entire auditorium, plunging the room into dead silence. “This is impossible… My entire portfolio… millions of dollars just vanished from my accounts!” Those words hit the room like a bomb. The crowd erupted in absolute shock and uproar. After a second of stunned silence, the auditorium descended into total chaos. Screams of disbelief and frantic questioning echoed off the walls. “I just checked! My tuition savings are gone! I worked three part-time jobs for a year for that money!” “My rent money is completely gone!” It wasn’t just the students. Dozens of professors and faculty members were frantically jabbing at their phone screens, their faces turning ashen. “My entire paycheck from yesterday… wiped clean!” a professor yelled, his voice cracking with disbelief. Several university board members were huddled together, staring at a tablet in sheer horror. “What is happening?! The university’s operational fund… millions of dollars allocated for this event… it’s all gone!” A wave of pure terror swept through the massive hall. The carefully organized keynote event completely disintegrated into a chaotic nightmare. I sat perfectly still amidst the screaming crowd, slowly turning my head to look at Blake. Just a few minutes ago, when my specific grant money had hit his account, he couldn’t stop smiling. His eyes had been glowing with the thrill of stolen wealth. But right now… as he watched the digital numbers on his banking app skyrocket into the stratosphere, millions upon millions of dollars flooding his account from every direction… The smug smile melted off his face. His skin turned a sickly, translucent white. [What the hell is happening?! Why is there so much money?!] [Are all their missing funds… are they all transferring directly to me?!] Blake slowly turned his head, his eyes wide with absolute, unadulterated terror, and locked eyes with me. I looked right back at his panic-stricken face. And I smiled. Just as the pandemonium in the auditorium reached a boiling point, the piercing wail of police sirens echoed from the campus courtyard. A squad of heavily armed police officers and federal agents stormed through the auditorium doors. “Which one of you is Blake? We received an emergency alert from the Federal Reserve regarding massive, fraudulent anomalies traced directly to your accounts.”

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01 The moment the police stormed into the damp alley, the school’s untouchable bad boy, Zane, shoved the bloody metal pipe directly into my hands. He stared at me with absolute, arrogant entitlement. “You get straight As. The teachers love you. If you take the fall for this, you’ll get a suspension at worst.” “If I get arrested, my life is over.” A mechanical voice from the System shrieked frantically in my mind. “Host! If you help him right now, he will be absolutely devoted to you! In the future, when he becomes a billionaire, you will be his wealthy, beloved wife!” I glanced down at the innocent classmate bleeding out on the concrete, then calmly took a step to the side. Under Zane’s utterly bewildered gaze, I pointed right at him and yelled at the approaching cops. “Officers! He did it! His fingerprints are all over that weapon, and I have the entire assault recorded on my phone!” Zane froze in sheer disbelief. The two police officers moved with lightning speed. They lunged forward, twisted Zane’s arms behind his back, and slammed him hard against the brick wall. The crisp click of handcuffs echoing through the alley finally snapped Zane out of his shock. He struggled violently against their grip, turning his head to roar at me. “Kate, are you psycho?! I told you my family would make this go away! I just needed you to take the heat for a minute. How dare you set me up?!” I took two steps back, my tone dripping with unmistakable amusement. “Let’s get one thing straight. I didn’t set you up. This is called fulfilling my civic duty to provide a truthful witness statement.” “Also, aggravated assault resulting in severe bodily harm carries a minimum sentence of three years. Not only did you beat someone half to death, but you also attempted to coerce a witness into taking the fall. That is a serious felony.” “I think you should spend less time worrying about my mental health and more time worrying about your own rap sheet.” I handed my phone directly to the female officer walking toward me and tapped play on the high-definition video I had just recorded. The footage perfectly captured every second of Zane swinging the steel pipe at the boy on the ground, ending with his desperate attempt to shove the weapon into my hands. The audio was crystal clear. The female officer took the phone and gave my shoulder a reassuring pat. “Good job, kid. You have excellent situational awareness.” Paramedics had already rushed in and were loading the heavily bleeding boy onto a stretcher. Before being shoved into the back of the police cruiser, Zane stared at me with eyes full of venom and disbelief. In his eighteen years of smooth-sailing, privileged existence, he had probably never encountered someone like me who refused to play along with his twisted rules. As the sirens wailed and the cruiser sped off, I adjusted my backpack and started walking home. Meanwhile, the System in my head was having a complete meltdown. I had accidentally bound to this plot-maintenance System a few days ago, learning that I was the designated female lead in a toxic, high school bad-boy romance novel. Right now, the System was emitting high-frequency screams that made my temples throb. “Are you insane?! That was Zane! He is the male lead of this universe! You just sent the male lead to jail! How is the plot supposed to progress now?!” “In the original storyline, you take the fall for him. Even though he acts tough, he is deeply moved by your sacrifice. From that moment on, he tones down his temper and secretly protects you!” “When he eventually inherits his family’s empire and becomes a billionaire, you would be his glamorous wife! You just single-handedly destroyed your perfect marriage!” I stopped walking and asked a very genuine question in my mind. “Does a billionaire’s wife not need to pass a background check?” The System’s screaming ground to a halt. “W-what?” I kept walking toward the bus stop, breaking down the logic for this artificially unintelligent voice. “According to your braindead plot, if I take the fall, I end up with a felony record.” “A person with an assault charge on their permanent record can’t pass the Bar exam, can’t get federal clearance, and would fail the background check at any top-tier corporate firm. My future would be completely destroyed.” “You want me to gamble my entire future on an emotionally unstable, violent felon with zero legal literacy, all on the off chance that he might miraculously grow a conscience and marry me someday?” I let out a cold laugh. “Do I look brain-dead to you? Why would I ever take a deal where I lose everything?” The System started crying in sheer panic. “But he really loves you! Later in the story, he’d give up his own life for you!” “A guy who can’t even follow basic laws? His love is worth less than the dog crap on the sidewalk.” I stepped onto the bus, scanned my transit card, and walked to a seat in the back. “Stop trying to brainwash me with those toxic romance tropes. I am here to study and succeed, not to rehabilitate a convict.” “If he wants to throw his life away, that is his business. Don’t drag me down with him.” The System’s entire purpose was to force me to follow the original plot and take the blame for Zane. In the novel, Zane was an arrogant rebel who had never been defied. The original Kate’s willingness to absorb his punishment struck a chord in his dark heart. He was supposed to gradually soften, protecting her from the shadows, eventually realizing she was his one true love compared to the manipulative girls constantly swarming him. But after hearing my flawless legal breakdown, the System fell completely silent. I pulled out my vocabulary flashcards and went back to memorizing advanced terms. There were only two hundred days left until the National Admissions Exam, and my goal was a top-tier Ivy League pre-law program. Wasting even one second looking at a piece of trash like him was an insult to my study schedule. Early the next morning, my homeroom teacher, Mr. Davis, called me into his office. When I pushed the door open, I saw a middle-aged woman sitting inside. She was dripping in haute couture, pinching a crocodile leather handbag, and looking down at me with absolute disdain. It was Zane’s mother, Mrs. Blackwood. Standing right next to her, rubbing her red, teary eyes, was a girl from my class. Perla. She was the class social chair and the designated secondary female lead of the novel. Outwardly, Perla played the role of a fragile, innocent angel, but inside she was deeply vain and selfish. She constantly strung Zane along, relishing the attention and power that came with having the school’s richest bully obsessed with her. In the original plot, she constantly started drama, played the victim, and secretly sabotaged me while keeping Zane firmly wrapped around her finger. I definitely didn’t expect her to team up with Zane’s mother to come after me. Mr. Davis looked incredibly uncomfortable. He pointed awkwardly at me. “Kate, Mrs. Blackwood wanted to speak with you about what happened yesterday.” Mrs. Blackwood didn’t even bother standing up. She simply pulled a check from her designer bag and slid it to the edge of the desk. “You are Kate, correct? I heard about the little misunderstanding.” “My Zane can be a bit hot-headed, but he has a good heart. He only got physical yesterday because he was protecting a classmate.” She lifted her chin, her tone dripping with unquestionable arrogance. “Here is fifty thousand dollars. All you need to do is go down to the precinct and change your statement. Tell them you looked at the video wrong, and that you accidentally pushed that boy. Do that, and this money is yours.” “Your family doesn’t have much. This is more than enough to cover your college tuition so you can graduate in peace.” I looked down at the check on the desk but didn’t move a muscle. Perla immediately stepped forward, tears spilling perfectly down her cheeks. “Kate, please just help Zane. That dropout from the vocational school came over to harass me yesterday. Zane only fought him to protect me!” “He is a hero! You can’t let a stupid mistake ruin his future!” “You get good grades. Even if you get a suspension, you can still get into a good college. But if Zane gets a criminal record, his father will kill him!” “We’re all classmates, how can you be so heartless?” I slowly turned my head and looked Perla up and down. “If he’s such a hero in your eyes, why don’t you go take the fall for him?” Perla choked on her words, stammering defensively. “I… I have bad health! If I got suspended, my parents wouldn’t be able to handle it. Besides, Zane said he only trusts you…” I watched her pathetic, theatrical display and raised an eyebrow. In the original timeline, Perla used this exact manipulative script to enjoy the ego boost of two guys fighting over her, while forcing the criminal consequences squarely onto my shoulders. Afterward, she spread rumors that I only took the blame because I was desperate for Zane’s money, completely ruining my reputation. I ignored her completely and turned back to Mrs. Blackwood. “Mrs. Blackwood, did you just say Zane has a good heart and is just a bit hot-headed?” Assuming I was giving in, Mrs. Blackwood nodded haughtily. “Exactly. Young people make impulsive mistakes. If you do this favor for him, the Blackwood family will owe you a very generous debt.” Without missing a beat, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and tapped the play button on my voice memos. Mrs. Blackwood’s voice echoed crisply through the quiet office: “Here is fifty thousand dollars. All you need to do is go down to the precinct and change your statement…” Mrs. Blackwood’s face drained of color. She shot up from her chair. “What do you think you’re doing?!” I slipped the phone back into my pocket, my voice dead calm. “Nothing much. Just gathering some fresh material for the police.” “Mrs. Blackwood, what you just did is legally defined as witness tampering and obstruction of justice. Using bribes or threats to coerce a witness into committing perjury carries a sentence of up to three years in federal prison.” I met her furious, wide-eyed glare without taking a single step back. “Your son is facing charges for aggravated assault, and you are facing charges for witness tampering.” “What, is the Blackwood family planning to host your next family reunion in a penitentiary?” Mr. Davis panicked, jumping up from his desk and waving his hands wildly. “Kate, calm down! Don’t say things like that!” I shifted my gaze to him. “Mr. Davis, I am simply stating basic legal facts. I am a minor who was just subjected to financial bribery and perjury coercion by a student’s parent on school grounds. As a mandated reporter, if you fail to report this, you become an accessory to the crime.” Mr. Davis instantly shut his mouth, his face cycling between green and pale white. Trembling with rage, Mrs. Blackwood pointed a manicured finger right at my nose and screamed. “You ungrateful little bitch! Do you honestly think one audio recording is enough to bring down the Blackwood family?!” “Let me tell you something! In this city, I have ten thousand ways to make sure you never step foot in a classroom again!” I nodded approvingly. “Excellent. Threatening a minor. That is another piece of evidence for the pile.” “Mrs. Blackwood, keep your fifty thousand dollars and use it to hire a very good defense attorney for Zane. As for me changing my statement, keep dreaming.” Without sparing another glance at their horrified faces, I turned around, pulled the office door open, and walked straight out. The few students who had been eavesdropping outside scattered like frightened birds. In my head, the System was sighing heavily. “You’re doomed. You’re completely doomed! You just made a mortal enemy out of the male lead’s mother! The Blackwood family can bankrupt your family with a snap of their fingers!” I rolled my eyes internally. “We’re already broke. What exactly is there to bankrupt?” My family lived in a tiny, heavily mortgaged apartment, and my parents were honest, hardworking factory workers. No matter how rich the Blackwoods were, what were they going to do? Buy the factory just to fire my parents? The working class fears nothing. Despite his family’s wealth, Zane wasn’t released immediately. The boy he beat up suffered a mild concussion and severe soft-tissue damage, officially classifying the incident as second-degree assault. Thanks to the concrete video evidence I provided, all the money in the world couldn’t immediately bail him out. But the Blackwood family wasn’t sitting idle. By the afternoon, the atmosphere at school had drastically shifted. Walking down the hallway, I could feel the strange, judgmental stares and hear the loud whispers. “Did you hear? Kate intentionally sent Zane to the cops just to secure her scholarship.” “She is so toxic. Zane was just being a hero and standing up for Perla, and Kate stabbed him in the back.” “I always knew there was something wrong with her, sitting around studying all day. Who knew she was such a snake?” I walked to my desk at the back of the classroom. A few rows over, Perla was surrounded by a protective circle of girls. Her eyes were red and puffy, playing the picture of a fragile victim. “Please don’t be too hard on Kate, guys. She was probably just scared.” “But Zane is still locked up and suffering. I can’t even eat when I think about him. If Kate had just explained to the cops that it was a mutual fight, Zane wouldn’t be in a holding cell right now.” A boy named Tyler slammed his fist on a desk, burning with righteous indignation. “Perla, you are way too kind! Zane only got into this mess to protect you. Kate needs to go to the cops and clear his name.” “I’m going to go demand justice for you right now!” Tyler spun around and aggressively marched over to my desk. “Kate, did a dog eat your conscience?! Zane might be a bit rough around the edges, but he never bullied you! What gives you the right to ruin his life while he’s down?” I put down the physics exam I was currently acing, looking up to meet his angry glare. “Tyler, have you ever passed a physics test in your entire life?” Tyler froze, his face flushing red. “I’m talking about Zane! What does physics have to do with anything?!” I tapped my pen against my desk. “I bring it up because I’ve realized your brain is just as defective as your hearing.” I stood up, my gaze sweeping across the entire classroom before locking dead onto Perla. “First of all, the guy who got beaten up yesterday is Noah, a student from the class next door. He is not some gangbanger dropout.” “And the only reason Noah was attacked was because he accidentally spilled some soup on Perla’s shoes in the cafeteria. Noah immediately apologized and offered to pay for the shoes. It was Zane who tried to force Noah to get on his knees and lick Perla’s shoes clean. When Noah refused, Zane dragged him into the alley and beat him with a pipe.” I took a slow, deliberate step toward Perla. “Perla, is that what you call being a hero?” The classroom fell dead silent. Everyone stared at Perla in shock. Perla’s face drained of all color. She immediately covered her face and started sobbing. “I didn’t know… I was so terrified I ran away. I swear I didn’t know Zane was going to hurt him… Kate, why are you making up lies to ruin me?” I didn’t give her a single inch to breathe. “You didn’t know? Would you like me to read the exact text messages you sent Zane out loud?” I held up my phone and waved it. “I just went to the classroom next door. Noah’s friends confirmed that you threw a fit because Noah got a tiny stain on your limited-edition sneakers, making you lose face in front of your friends.” “You complained in your private group chat, and Zane immediately rushed out to intercept Noah just to earn points with you. I already have the screenshots of the chat.” The atmosphere in the room flipped instantly. The girls who had just been comforting Perla now looked at her with blatant disgust. Tyler stood frozen in place, his face burning with absolute humiliation. I stared down at Perla’s fake, crocodile tears. “Perla, you loved the thrill of having Zane act like a violent dog for your honor, but the second things got real, you tried to dump the blame on someone else.” “Zane is sitting in a holding cell right now. You claim you’re so heartbroken you can’t eat, yet I haven’t seen you visit the precinct to bring him a single meal.” “Stop using me as a meat shield to distract from your own guilt. If I hear you say one more word about me behind my back, I will print out those chat logs and tape a hundred copies to the school bulletin board so everyone can see what a ‘good person’ you really are.” Perla’s sobbing choked in her throat. She bit her lip so hard it almost bled, her face a mask of ugly panic, completely unable to utter a single word in her defense. Ignoring the stunned expressions of my classmates, I sat back down and returned to my practice test. The System was trembling in my mind. “You are ruthless… You completely destroyed the supporting female lead’s manipulative, victim-playing route with just a few sentences.” “She’s just bad at her job,” I replied coldly. For the next two weeks, Zane didn’t show his face at school. Rumor had it the Blackwood family spent an astronomical amount of money to secure a settlement and a signed letter of forgiveness from Noah’s family. Noah’s family struggled financially, so they accepted the massive payout and dropped the charges. Zane avoided real prison time, but due to the severe nature of the assault, he still had to serve fifteen days in juvenile detention. Today was his first day back. Coincidentally, it was also the day of the school’s semesterly “National Merit Scholar” award assembly. I was fully intent on winning that spot. Not only did it come with a fifty-thousand-dollar cash scholarship, but it would also practically guarantee my admission to the best pre-law programs in the country. I was consistently ranked first in the entire grade, had a flawless resume, and zero disciplinary marks. The scholarship was basically already mine. The assembly was scheduled for the afternoon in the main auditorium, with the entire student body and faculty attending. Half an hour before it began, Mr. Davis rushed into the classroom looking terrified. He grabbed my arm and dragged me into the hallway. “Kate, something happened. Come with me to the Principal’s office, now!”

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My cold-faced boss completely tore my new proposal to shreds. I was forced to stay late and rewrite the whole thing, making me miss my scheduled gaming session with the kid I had basically adopted online. By the time I finally booted up the game, I immediately heard the little boy sobbing through the headset. “Mommy, I thought you didn’t want me anymore.” My heart melted instantly. “I’m so sorry, sweetie. It’s all my bastard boss’s fault for making me work overtime.” The crying on the other end stopped abruptly. “Do you want to switch to a new job, Mommy? My big brother’s company is super, super big.” The kid was an absolute angel, but he loved to brag. I was used to it and didn’t take it seriously at all. That is, until he actually took me to his house to meet his older brother. Standing inside a mega-mansion that easily spanned tens of thousands of square feet, my jaw dropped as I bumped right into my boss’s chest. The kid grabbed my boss by the hand. “Bro, this is the guardian Mommy I found for us. Hurry up and call her Mommy!” 01 The kid I adopted in my online game loved to act like a hotshot. I realized this the very first day we met. I was on a brutal ten-game losing streak, getting absolutely mopped across the floor by the enemy team in every single match. The more I lost, the more stubborn I got. The more stubborn I got, the more I wanted a comeback. And the more I wanted a comeback, the more I kept losing. It was a vicious cycle. By the time I was matched with the kid, I literally had a stress blister forming on my lip. “Hi there. I can carry this match, just stick close to me.” The voice on the headset was soft, squishy, and incredibly polite. I could tell right away he was super young. A laugh bubbled up in my chest, washing away half the toxic frustration from my losing streak. I keyed my mic. “Thanks a lot, then.” I figured anyone matched with a chronic loser like me couldn’t possibly be a high-tier player. But the moment the match started, the kid wiped out an entire enemy squad by himself. They respawned, and he killed them again. After dying three times in a row, the enemy team completely lost their minds and started spamming the global voice chat with curses. Filthy, unrestricted slurs were being hurled at a literal child. Since the kid was carrying me so hard, I obviously had to protect him. For every insult they threw, I fired ten back. I went so hard that I ended up getting reported and slapped with a three-day chat ban. Fuming, I ripped my headset off. A friend request popped up on my screen. It was the kid. “Hi, would you please be my Mommy?” I had heard of this trend in the gaming community. Older players acting as “guardians” and adopting younger players as their “cubs.” It actually suited someone like me perfectly. I was at that awkward age where everything felt like a grind, and I just wanted to latch onto a skilled player for an easy ride. But being unmarried and having someone call me “Mommy” felt incredibly embarrassing. “If you be my Mommy, I’ll gift you a full set of premium skins.” Wait. Was this kid actually a skilled player who also happened to be a massive whale? “Deal!” I typed back. I desperately hoped the kid’s promises were as legitimate as his gaming skills. But after waiting half the night, all I received was a photo. It was a picture of a blank piece of paper with two massive, crooked words scrawled in crayon. [ IOU ] Beneath it was a very earnestly written sentence. [ Owe Mommy skins. Will pay with my $10,000 allowance. ] He even misspelled allowance. It was honestly way too cute. I should have known better. What concept of money does a kid that age even have? Ten thousand dollars. Kids really do love to exaggerate. I turned around and gifted him a premium skin instead. Using one skin to hook a highly skilled gaming partner was a solid investment in my book. “No need for the money! Just carry me in the ranks, kiddo!” The boy stubbornly rejected the gift. “I do have money. My brother just put a parental lock on my payments, so it keeps saying transaction failed.” “Miss Summer… do you not want to be my Mommy anymore?” His last sentence cracked with a tiny, devastating sob. My left and right brain fought a brief war. Finding a wild, god-tier kid player was like finding a gorgeous stray kitten. If you hesitate, someone else snatches them up. And as much as I hated to admit it, my age probably put me somewhere between his older sister and his actual mother. Having him call me Mommy wasn’t exactly taking advantage of him. Seeing that I hadn’t replied, the boy started panicking. He flooded the chat with a barrage of crying cat emojis, sad dog memes, and dramatic pleading stickers. My heart caved. I had officially captured a wild gaming prodigy. “I accept, kiddo!” “Then you have to call me sweetie, Mommy.” “I accept, sweetie!” “Yay! Now my brother and I both have a Mommy! Nobody can ever bully us for being motherless kids again!” 02 The kid was incredibly disciplined with his time. His gaming schedule was strictly fixed from eight-thirty to nine-ten in the evening. After nine-ten, he had to brush his teeth, and by nine-thirty, he had to be in bed. We happily duo-queued like this for nearly two months. Until one cursed Monday, my cold-blooded, robotic boss absolutely ripped into me during the morning meeting. Silas Reed wore a face carved from ice. Displayed on his monitor was my proposal, the sixteenth revision I had submitted. “Summer, I heard you graduated from Penn?” I had already cursed out every male ancestor in his lineage inside my head, but I still raised my face and gave him a pathetic, submissive smile. “Yes, Mr. Reed. When you came back to campus as an outstanding alumni guest speaker, I even attended your lecture.” “Oh?” He flicked his eyes up at me, his tone growing even more acidic. “Did you save your professor’s life or something? Is that the only reason they let you graduate and enter the workforce?” “My requirements are not high. Since you listened to my lecture in college, why are you still failing to grasp my vision?” “Hmm? Do you have an issue with me, or an issue with the company?” Seeing me keep my head down in silence, he snapped his laptop shut and stood up. “I need another revision by today. If it still doesn’t hit the mark, go to HR and hand in your resignation.” He left me standing there, practically choking on my own rage. Did he actually give me any useful feedback? I had revised this trash proposal sixteen times simply because he kept saying “the vibe isn’t right”! I’m sorry for breathing, it’s all my fault, okay?! Fuming, I stood in the empty conference room and threw a full combo of shadowboxing punches at the air. After my little routine, my vision went black and I almost collapsed. Dammit. The morning meeting was so early I hadn’t even eaten breakfast. My blood sugar was crashing again. By the time I handed the seventeenth version to Silas, I was practically foaming at the mouth. I gave him a look that practically dared him to reject it, ready to pass out right there and make him deal with a medical emergency. The clock on the wall read eleven at night. Silas furrowed his brows, flipped through the entire document, and finally, reluctantly, nodded his head. As I walked out of the corporate lobby, my best friend Zoe was laughing at me over the phone. “Look at you, rolling in that overtime money with the big boss keeping you company.” Standing in the elevator, I finally let loose. “That bastard! Why is he making me do all this overtime? If he pushes me any further, I’m going to run over him with my car!” “Besides, he owns the entire company! He’s the one who’s supposed to be working late, not me…” Before I could finish, a hand reached out and blocked the elevator doors from closing. It was Silas. 03 I had no idea how much of my rant he had heard. Silas shot me a freezing glare, and the air pressure in the small space plummeted immediately. I shrank my neck down like a frightened turtle, not daring to breathe. Of course, this was the exact moment the sound leaking from my cheap earbuds decided to get louder. “Run him over! Run him over twice! But honestly, don’t you think your big boss has massive contrast appeal?” “He walks around with that cold, untouchable, celibate face, looking at everyone like they’re dirt. But that body is insane. His tailored suits can barely contain those massive pecs, hahaha…” Zoe’s wicked, unfiltered laughter echoed through the entire elevator. Silas’s face turned completely black. “I’m so sorry, boss. I’ve been under a lot of pressure lately, so I listen to these trashy comedy podcasts to unwind. I’ll turn it off right now…” Before I could finish spinning my lie, Zoe’s voice got even louder. “Summer! Why aren’t you answering me?” “It’s so late, did something happen to you…” I squeezed my eyes shut. If my worst enemy saw me right now, they would probably forgive me out of pure pity. Thankfully, the call dropped due to the poor signal in the elevator. I awkwardly muttered an apology. “I’m sorry, boss.” Silas didn’t say a word. Suddenly, his large, distinctively sculpted hand reached out from behind me. I thought he was so mad he was actually going to hit me. Terrified, I crouched down so fast my unexercised joints cracked loudly. It turned out he just wanted to press the button for the basement parking garage. He looked down at me with a deep frown. I couldn’t even lift my head anymore. Right now, I just wanted someone to push the big red button and obliterate this entire planet. When the elevator stopped at the ground floor, I practically sprinted out. Silas spoke up, stopping me in my tracks. “Summer.” “This new version is acceptable. I hold you to a high standard because I know you have the potential to do better.” I forced a bitter smile. What else was there to say? Just smile and nod like the corporate drone I was. “Also, if your… mind is under that much pressure, you should visit a doctor tomorrow.” “Consider it a paid day off. It won’t affect your perfect attendance bonus.” “Be safe on your way home.” That last sentence was spoken incredibly softly. I half wondered if I was experiencing auditory hallucinations. But none of that mattered. A paid day off had just fallen directly into my lap! 04 By the time I texted Zoe that I was safe and got back to my apartment, it was already midnight. I had been dead tired earlier. But the thought of getting a free paid day off tomorrow made me feel like going to sleep now would be a massive waste of time. After tossing the idea around, I booted up the game. The kid should have been fast asleep by now. We had been playing together for so long, and this was my first time breaking our schedule. I sighed, figuring I would just apologize to him tomorrow. But the second I logged in, a team invite popped up from the kid’s profile. When I joined, his voice sounded thick and muffled, like he had been crying alone in the dark for hours. “Mommy, I thought you threw me away.” Hearing him cry made my chest ache. “I’m so sorry, sweetie. It’s my bastard boss’s fault for making me work overtime.” “I just got home and it’s midnight. I didn’t think you’d still be waiting for me. Did I mess up your sleep schedule?” The crying stopped. “That boss is evil! How dare he treat you like that!” “Do you want to switch to a new job, Mommy? My big brother’s company is super, super big.” The kid was perfect, except for how much he loved to play pretend. I was used to it. Not wanting to hurt his pride, I patiently played along. “That sounds great, but we probably don’t even live in the same city. Finding a new apartment is such a hassle.” The boy scoffed entirely. “Why do you need to find a new apartment? My house has so many rooms. You can just pick a whole floor to live on.” I laughed out loud. “Pick a whole floor? Just how big is this house?” “Around ten thousand square feet, I think. I live on the second floor right now, and my brother lives on the third floor. The third floor is the biggest.” “If you come live with us, Mommy, I’ll kick my brother up to the fourth floor.” He really was just a kid. I wouldn’t even dare to dream of a ten-thousand-square-foot house, but he just spouted it effortlessly. “Hahaha, really? Won’t your brother beat you up for that?” “No way! You’re my Mommy, which means you’re my brother’s Mommy too!” “What city do you live in, Mommy?” “I’m in Boston.” “Mommy, I’m in Boston too!” His voice spiked with excitement, but my adrenaline was finally crashing. My eyelids felt like they were made of lead, and no amount of willpower was keeping them open. “Mommy, can I come find you to play?” “Sure thing.” I casually mumbled the name of my apartment complex and told him goodnight. The next day, I was completely dead to the world, buried under my blankets, when a call from the complex security guard woke me up. “Miss Summer, your son is waiting for you at the front gate.” “What son? You’ve got the wrong number.” I was just about to hang up when a familiar, soft voice echoed through the speaker. “Mommy! I came to find you!” 05 The heat outside was absolutely brutal. Walking out in flip-flops was easily the worst decision I had made all week. If I walked even slightly too fast, my heels hit the scorching pavement, making me wince in pain. My phone rang again. Assuming it was security, I answered immediately. “Hey, security man, just keep an eye on my son, I’ll be right there…” “Summer, regarding that proposal you submitted… You have a son? Your employee file clearly states you’re single.” Dead silence fell over both ends of the line. I pulled the phone away and looked at the screen. The caller ID read Silas Reed. Before I could even process this nightmare, another call came through. This time, it really was security. “Mr. Reed, I’m so sorry, I have an emergency right now. I’ll call you right back.” I had been working at the company for over a year, and this was the very first time I dared to hang up on Silas. Rumor had it a former employee once hung up on the big boss by mistake and got handed a severance package the next day. Wanting to cry but lacking the tears, I broke into a desperate sprint, figuring I’d deal with the kid first and then grovel to Silas later. “Hey! I’m almost there!” I yelled into the other line. “Alright, Miss Summer. We were just debating if we should walk the kid to your building.” By the time I reached the front gate, gasping for air, the soles of my feet were entirely numb. A little boy in a crisp button-down shirt and suspenders was sitting obediently inside the guardhouse. Mrs. Gable, the most aggressively nosy woman in the complex, had just returned from the grocery store. Seeing me, she immediately waved me over. “Oh my, Summer, I had no idea you had a son this old.” I gave an awkward laugh, completely unsure of how to explain the situation. I cautiously looked at the little boy and called out. “Sweetie?” The boy’s eyes lit up. He trotted over and grabbed my hand. “Mommy!” I let out a long breath. But when my eyes landed on his shirt, completely soaked through with sweat, my heart twisted with frustration and pity. “How did you get here all by yourself? You didn’t even tell me!” “Does your family know?” “What if you ran into a bad person on the way?” Mrs. Gable leaned in, her eyes gleaming with gossip. “I get it, Summer. The kid went with his dad in the divorce, right?” “No wonder none of the guys I tried to set you up with worked out. You were secretly married this whole time.” “I still have a few older bachelors in my contacts. They’re a bit up there in age, but at least they’ve never been married.” “A woman who’s been married and popped out a kid is just damaged goods, you know? You lose your value…” The kid wasn’t very old, but he was smart enough to recognize cruelty. His little face flushed bright red, and he shoved Mrs. Gable hard. “You’re a bad person! Don’t you dare talk about my Mommy like that!” Mrs. Gable stumbled backward, immediately flying into a rage. “Calling you damaged goods is a compliment! Who knows what stray dog fathered this little brat?” “Riding on your looks, you were probably some rich guy’s side piece. That’s why your baby daddy dumped you!” “Your mom is a tramp…” Her words were incredibly vile. If the kid hadn’t been standing right there, I would have thrown hands with her. I clamped one hand over the boy’s ears, scooped him up with my other arm, and marched straight into the complex. Mrs. Gable was still standing behind us, hands on her hips, screaming curses. The boy rested his head on my shoulder, his voice trembling on the verge of tears. “I’m sorry, Mommy. Did I get you in trouble?” 06 I carried the kid over to the shade of a large oak tree. “No, baby, you were protecting me. How could that be getting me in trouble?” “That lady was just a nasty person.” “Sweetie, tell me the truth. How did you get here? Did you tell anyone at home?” The boy shook his head. A massive tear broke free and splattered against my collarbone. “Mommy, I… I took a taxi… My brother doesn’t know…” I hugged him tighter. “It’s okay, don’t cry. Let’s go get you something to eat, and then I’ll call your brother so he can take you home. How does that sound?” He looked reluctant, but he sniffled and nodded his head. I held his hand and walked him to the convenience store inside the complex. I grabbed a couple of hot dogs from the roller and picked out some warm skewers from the deli section. “Eat up. Let’s get something in your stomach first.” Worried that the blast of the AC on his sweaty clothes might make him sick, I specifically picked a table far from the vents. The kid took the hot dog from my hand, took a tiny bite, and his eyes went wide as saucers. “Mommy, this tastes amazing!” His reaction was so dramatic it was as if he had never eaten a hot dog in his entire life. I asked, half-joking, “Have you really never had a hot dog before?” The kid shook his head with absolute seriousness. “Your mom and dad, or your brother… they never bought you one? There are usually food carts all around schools.” “No, Mommy. My mom and dad are gone. It’s just me and my brother.” “My brother is always working to make money. He’s barely ever home.” The words died in my throat. I thought back to what he said in the game—”Now my brother and I both have a Mommy.” I had thought it was just a kid playing pretend, but it turned out to be a cruel joke from fate. I walked over to the cashier. “Wrap up all the hot dogs you have left on the roller.” “Mommy?” “Eat up!” I turned my back to him and quietly sniffled. So what if he bragged? If his life was that painful, wasn’t he allowed to tell a few lies to comfort himself? “Sweetie, do you know your brother’s phone number by heart? Let me call him so we can get you home.” “You don’t need to do that, Mommy,” the boy said, pulling up his sleeve to reveal a high-tech smartwatch. “I’ll just call him myself.” The call connected quickly. He held his wrist up to his ear, and I could faintly hear the tone on the other end. It did not sound friendly. The kid had a lot of pride. Afraid I would hear, he intentionally walked over to the corner of the store. I stepped a little closer, just in time to hear the voice on the watch say, “Stop being a burden to other people.” My blood boiled. I marched right over. “He is not being a burden to anyone!” My voice was so loud the other end went completely dead silent. “I know it’s hard for you, working all the time to provide for yourself and your younger brother!” “You’re a great older brother, and he’s an incredibly well-behaved kid!” “But since you two only have each other, you need to show him some actual care and affection!” “I’ll send him home safely, so you don’t need to worry!” The other end remained silent for a long moment before finally replying. “Sorry for the trouble.” I couldn’t tell if it was the speaker quality, but the voice sounded almost shaky. I scoffed and gestured for the kid to end the call. The way the boy looked at me completely changed. Shock, awe, and starry-eyed admiration. “Mommy, you’re so cool!” Before I could even bask in the praise, my phone started ringing. I glanced at the screen. It was Silas. Crap! My job! I had told my boss I’d call him right back, and I completely forgot!

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1 My fiancé had a creditor. For the five years we dated, in the name of “paying her back,” he habitually transferred half of his project bonuses to her. The birthday gifts he prepared for me would become hers if she said she liked them. Even one phone call from her was enough for him to abandon me and leave in a rush. He said they had grown up together, practically sharing the same pants as kids. If he could help, he should. I believed him. Until the day we finally saved enough for the down payment on our future home. I couldn’t wait to go look at apartments with him. But I heard him say lightly, “Oh, the money in the card? I lent it to Nora.” “She recently found this collectible figure she wanted. Pretty worth it.” Only then did I realize that the debt he talked about would never be repaid. The last little bit of hope in me disappeared. I silently put the card back into my pocket. “Okay.” I didn’t want to marry him anymore. I wanted to try living without him. … “What’s wrong?” Theo Mercer placed a hand on my shoulder. “You know how careless she is with money. If I don’t help her out, she’d have starved on the street long ago.” When he said that, his eyes were full of indulgence. “When did you lend it to her?” He paused. “Yesterday.” Yesterday. Even though I had known the answer, hearing him say it still made my heart sting. I had stayed up through countless unbearable nights, revised endless proposals, and fought hard to win that project bonus. Just like that, he had given it away. Theo seemed to realize something and explained stiffly, “Nora said the figure was limited edition. She was anxious, so she came to me for money.” He pulled me closer, his tone carrying a little helplessness. “All right. We can buy a home anytime. Just wait a little longer.” Wait a little longer. When I asked him to go wedding dress shopping with me, he said wait a little longer. When I asked what theme we should use for the wedding, he said wait a little longer. But the moment Nora said she wanted to open a flower shop, he transferred half his project bonus to her. From renting the place to opening day, it took less than a month. A sour ache spread through my chest. I gently pushed him away. “Theo, I don’t want to wait anymore.” “Clara.” He withdrew the hand that had frozen midair and took off his jacket, setting it on the sofa. “Don’t make a scene. I worked all day, then helped Nora at the flower shop all afternoon. I’m tired.” He never hid things involving Nora. He knew that if he acted openly, I would have no reason to argue with him. My heart sank bit by bit. My eyes burned. For the first time, I asked him, “Fine. I won’t make a scene. Then how long am I supposed to wait?” Seeing his speechless expression, I pulled my mouth into a self-mocking smile. How could I ever receive a promise from someone who never intended to be responsible for it? “Enough.” He roughly ruffled my hair. The motion was no different from patting a pet. “Once her shop turns a profit this month, we’ll go look at apartments. Okay?” “I have work tomorrow. Sleep early.” With that, he stopped looking at me and walked into the bedroom. Again. To him, as long as tomorrow came, I would automatically stop being angry. I sat stiffly and picked up the gift box on the table. Inside was a tie. He had once said a black tie with a suit looked too heavy. I remembered it and carefully picked a navy one. I had placed it in the most visible spot. Full of expectation, I told him to come home early. He agreed. And I kept lying to myself as I waited. Waited until deep into the night. Waited until he still failed to remember today was our fifth anniversary. Waited until he casually told me he had given our savings to Nora. My eyes grew more and more sore. I threw the tie into the trash. Holding the edge of the table, I stood there for a long time before opening my notes app. Inside was a list of fifty things I wanted to do with him. Watch a movie together. Try a famous restaurant. Raise a cat. After five years, only three had been completed. Not break up. Eat three meals together. And share an umbrella. That day, it rained heavily. He rarely came to pick me up from work. With him was Nora in the passenger seat. When we got out, his umbrella tilted. Half my shoulder was soaked. He said he hadn’t noticed. I believed him. The living room was very quiet. For no reason, I let out a dry laugh. With trembling hands, I cleared the entire notes list. I didn’t want to wait anymore. I wanted to be the one who left first. I slept in the guest room that night. The next morning, I was woken by unrestrained laughter coming from the living room. When I opened the bedroom door, I saw Theo naturally take Nora’s bag and place it on a chair. “Clara, you’re awake?” Nora smiled sweetly and pointed to the roses in the vase on the table. “These just arrived today. I brought you a few. There’s still dew on them.” I forced a smile. “Thanks.” When I walked into the bathroom, Theo followed. “She picked those especially for you.” My hand paused on the faucet. “Mm. I know.” He gave me a faint smile. “Are you still angry about yesterday? Clara, there’s really no need.” “Theo, I’m allergic to pollen.” He froze. When we were young, he had asked my friends and found out about my pollen allergy. Then he hand-folded nine hundred and ninety-nine paper roses to confess his feelings. With tears in his eyes, he said that when we got married, he would personally make me the largest bouquet. The person who heard it remembered. The person who made the promise forgot. From outside came Nora’s voice. “Theo, I bought porridge. Come eat while it’s hot.” Theo’s face looked bad, but he turned and answered her. “Coming.” I splashed water over my face again and again. When I came out, Nora was holding her phone. She giggled as she put a seafood bun she had bitten into into Theo’s bowl. “The seafood buns someone asked me to buy taste awful. Returning them to their owner.” Theo picked it up without any disgust. The germaphobia he always talked about was gone. Nora noticed me and quickly explained, “Clara, don’t misunderstand.” She walked over with a bright smile and held her phone in front of me. “I just posted a few videos of Theo loosening soil for the flowers. I didn’t expect them to blow up.” “People online say we look good together, so now I’m building the account.” The account avatar was a photo of her and Theo together. One hundred and eight videos. One hundred thousand followers. I had once opened an account too, trying to record my life with him. Theo was always impatient. “Can you be more mature? Stop putting everything online.” Later, the camera collected dust, and I set the account to private. When I got a new phone, the first thing I did was carefully save those videos of him. There were only a few. “This is all for marketing,” Nora said lightly. “He’s only useful for that much.” “Mm. I didn’t misunderstand.” My voice was calm. Theo frowned. “Enough. Stop filming.” He pushed the vase of roses farther away. Then he looked at me. “Nora bought breakfast. Want some?” I shook my head. “No. I have something to do.” He did not ask further. To him, that was already his greatest concession. In the past, this would have been my cue to take the step down. But this time, I didn’t want to. I put on my coat and left. I took a cab to the photography studio. For five years, every year, I booked a couples’ photoshoot in advance. I hoped to have more memories with him. But he was always tied up by countless trivial things. He could never make time. Book. Cancel. Book again the next year. Get stood up again. Until yesterday, when the studio called and asked me to cancel my membership card. When I entered the shop, the employee who greeted me smiled. “Miss Bennett, is your boyfriend still too busy to come this time?” Five years. Five bookings. Every time, I came alone. Her tone had gone from polite to openly contemptuous. I swallowed the ache in my chest and pretended not to hear it. “I’m here to cancel the membership.” She processed it quickly. At the end, she added politely, “The refund and vouchers have been returned to your original account.” “It’s just that the studio is renovating soon, and we’re afraid customer information might get mixed up.” “If your boyfriend isn’t busy someday, you can always come again.” I looked at the three thousand dollars that had been refunded. Five years. Complete and untouched. Not a cent less. “No.” When I walked out, Theo sent me a message. I’m going to the flower shop to help Nora. I won’t be home for dinner. I did not reply. My finger slid over the screen uncontrollably. Only then did I realize that most of the messages he sent me involved Nora. Last weekend, he said Nora had met a difficult customer and told me not to wait for him. The week before that, I asked him to go wedding dress shopping with me. He rarely agreed, but then left in a hurry because Nora called. My hands trembled so badly I stopped scrolling. At that moment, my best friend sent me a livestream link. “Clara, what did I say? Is Theo really with that childhood sweetheart of his?” As if possessed, I tapped in. Nora’s voice immediately came through. “Everyone who orders for Valentine’s Day can get an autographed photo of me and my boyfriend.” “Same-city express delivery. Discounts available for orders.” Beside her sat Theo, wrapping bouquets with an indulgent smile. I remembered how clumsy Theo used to be. When I dragged him to make bead art with me, he always kept a cold face and said he couldn’t do delicate work. Now, watching him expertly wrap bouquets in the livestream, I only found it funny. My best friend called. “Aren’t you two about to get married? Did you suddenly break up?” I gave a bitter laugh. “We’re not getting married.” She was silent for a long time. “Breaking up… might be a good thing.” She knew how much I had wanted to marry Theo. She also knew how I had survived these five years. After hanging up, I sent Theo a message. Come home early tonight. I have something to say. Just this once, I only ask you to come home early. Only then did I notice Theo had already sent a message. The status showed: typing… Then disappeared. In the end, he replied: Okay. When I got home, I packed my things. There were very few. Only a few pieces of clothing. Everything related to Theo, I left behind. After submitting my resignation and booking the nearest flight that night, I sat on the sofa and rubbed the bank card in my hand again and again. It was the one Theo had personally handed me when he first started working. He smiled and said, “When we save enough, we’ll get married and buy a home of our own.” Later, I got used to saving my own money into that card too. I thought if I waited a little longer, I would have a home with him. Later still, the balance in the card didn’t grow. It shrank. All transferred to Nora. Theo came home then. He carried large and small bags. For once, he did not break his promise. Before I could speak, Nora walked in behind him. “I’m exhausted. We were busy all day.” They were still wearing the couple outfits from the livestream. I froze. Then I heard Theo say, “Nora said she saw you in the livestream today.” “She was afraid you’d misunderstand, so she insisted on closing early to apologize.” Nora smiled. “Clara, I bought you steak especially. Theo and I both think this place is good. Try it.” I stood and walked closer. “Thanks.” “Don’t be so polite, Clara.” She pressed my shoulders and made me sit. Then she tried to take the bags from Theo’s hand. He avoided her. “I’ll do it.” Nora laughed and hooked her arm around his neck. “What, you look down on me?” I watched them quietly, like an outsider. Familiar packaging. This was the restaurant I had mentioned to Theo many times. He had always brushed it off. After setting out all the takeout, Theo pulled out a chair and sat across from me. “You said you wanted me home early. What is it?” Then he seemed to remember something. “Oh, right. I asked a coworker to check. He said housing prices have been unstable lately. We should wait until next year to buy the wedding apartment.” Beside him, Nora cut her steak and smiled. “By the way, I’ll pay back the money I borrowed from you at the end of the month.” “No need. It wasn’t much.” No need. He always answered like that. Once, when I couldn’t pay rent, I gently reminded him that Nora could repay a little. He snapped at me. “I grew up with her. Do you really expect her to pay me back over that little money?” In the end, I begged the landlord until my mouth went dry before he agreed to give me a few extra days. I still remembered the contempt in his eyes. “Can I really not pay it back? Clara won’t mind, right?” “What would she mind?” The meal instantly lost all taste. I put down my knife and fork. “Theo, actually, I do mind.” The smile on Nora’s face froze. Theo stood almost immediately and pulled me back into the bedroom. “You had to say that in front of Nora?” For the first time, I felt he was so unfamiliar. I pulled my hand free. “Half of the two hundred thousand you gave her was mine.” I said gave. Not lent. He heard it. His voice grew suppressed. “I was the one who lent it to her. You don’t need to be so passive-aggressive.” My tone was calm. “I’m not being passive-aggressive, Theo.” “It doesn’t matter whether you lent it voluntarily or whether she pays it back.” “But the part that belongs to me should be returned.” I took out the bank card and placed it on the table nearby. “You can keep this yourself from now on.” “Let’s not contact each other anymore.” He looked at me with unfamiliar eyes. “Just because I lent her money without telling you?” “Do you really need to make such a huge fuss?” I let out a dry laugh. How could I possibly break up just because of that? “I’m just really tired.” “Clara, when did you become like this?” He stared hard at my calm face. “Nora grew up with me. What’s wrong with helping her?” I interrupted softly. “You grew up with her. I didn’t.” “Theo, let’s end this here.” From outside came Nora’s wounded voice. “Theo, I borrowed money from my mom and transferred it to you.” “Please apologize to Clara for me. I won’t borrow money from you again.” Theo tugged his tie loose in irritation and pointed toward the door. “Clara, are you satisfied now?” He took out his phone and transferred the money to me. One hundred thousand. Five years. I looked at the screen and said nothing. He laughed from anger. “I never understood why my mom liked Nora but didn’t like you.” “Clara, you really should learn from Nora. Otherwise, with your personality…” He paused, then still chose to say it. “You’re honestly pretty annoying.” The first time I met his mother, she held Nora’s hand and smiled from ear to ear. She left me ignored to the side. More than once, she had said she wanted Nora to be her daughter-in-law. Back then, I respected her as an elder, listened silently, and never argued back. But I forgot. Just like me, Theo never argued back either. I was finally awake. “I will never learn from her in this lifetime.” “You’re impossible.” The door slammed shut. Soon, the sound of a car starting came from downstairs. I wiped the wet corners of my eyes, picked up my suitcase, and went downstairs. By the time I reached the airport, Nora had just posted something new. “Who says childhood sweethearts always lose to the girl who appears later? Some people should really stop being so jealous.” The attached photo showed Theo cooking noodles for her. His back had appeared in her social media many times. Always in vivid ways I had never seen. I liked the post. Then I removed Theo from the top of my chats. Blocked him. Muted him. Checked in. And boarded the plane.

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I’m blind. Yet I have a billion-dollar fortune and a husband I’ve loved for years. I thought this was heaven’s blessing. But on our third wedding anniversary, my guide dog — dead for a week — spoke to me. Master, don’t go near the pool. He removed the electrical breaker. The water is live. He spiked your champagne. He and that woman in the red dress want everything you have! Our third wedding anniversary. A dinner banquet on a cruise ship. The sea breeze hit my face, sharp with salt and moisture. I held Arthur Sterling’s arm, listening to the guests around us lavish their praise. “Arthur is so devoted to Scarlett. A dinner cruise — how romantic.” “Scarlett may not be able to see, but a husband like Arthur? She must have done something right in a past life.” I kept a polite smile on my lips. Inside, something bitter stirred. A week ago, my guide dog Atlas was killed — struck by an out-of-control car while we were out on a walk. He had been my eyes for five years. “Scarls, are you tired?” Arthur’s voice was warm and smooth. His palm settled gently over the back of my hand. “Let me take you to the outdoor pool on the upper deck. Get some fresh air — it’s quieter up there.” I was about to nod when a bark cut through the noise — familiar, yet impossible. Master, don’t go! He removed the pool’s electrical safety breaker. The water is live with high-voltage current! My whole body went rigid. My blood ran cold. That voice… Atlas? I told myself it was grief. That I’d been missing him so badly my mind had started playing tricks. “What’s wrong? Is the wind too cold?” Arthur noticed the change in me. With practiced care, he slipped off his suit jacket and draped it over my shoulders. He’s lying. His jacket still smells like her perfume. The woman named Vanessa is standing at your ten o’clock right now — red dress, and your mother’s diamond necklace around her neck. Atlas’s voice was sharp and furious. Every word cut straight through me. Vanessa. My personal assistant. The person I trusted most in the world. My grip tightened around my white cane. My knuckles went pale. After a stunned silence, I turned to Arthur — who was already steering me toward the pool — and said, “Arthur, my stomach’s bothering me. The champagne was probably too cold. I need to use the restroom.”

Arthur stopped. “Your stomach? I’ll come with you.” There was a faint edge in his voice beneath the concern. “You can’t come into the women’s restroom.” I kept my voice level. “Let Vanessa take me. She should be close by.” “Vanessa… she went to check on the dinner schedule for me.” Arthur’s hand tightened slightly around mine. “I’ll walk you to the door.” Master, that woman is standing right across from him. They were just looking at each other. She’s smiling! I took a slow breath, pulled my hand free, and let my white cane tap against the deck. “Okay.” The corridor to the restroom was quiet. Only the tap of my cane broke the silence. Arthur held my arm — tighter than usual, as if afraid I might slip away. “Scarls,” he murmured near my ear, “after tonight, we’ll be together forever.” Once, I would have thought those were the most beautiful words I’d ever heard. Now they made my skin crawl. At the restroom door, I felt for the handle and pushed it open. “I’ll wait out here.” Arthur let go. I stepped inside, locked the door behind me, and leaned against it, chest heaving. Master, don’t drink anything he hands you. He put a heavy dose of sleeping pills in your champagne. He wants you to “slip” at the poolside and fall into the water — make it look like an accidental electrocution. Atlas’s voice came from somewhere near my feet. I looked down. Everything was black, as always. But I could feel it — I was certain of it — his soft, warm head pressing gently against my leg. “Atlas… is that really you?” I whispered, somewhere deep inside my mind. It’s me, Master. I didn’t move on. I’m staying to protect you. The driver who hit me — Arthur paid him. He hired someone to kill me. Because I bit Vanessa when she snuck into your study. They were afraid I’d ruin everything. Tears broke free and slid down my face. This ten-billion-dollar fortune was what my parents left behind to protect me. And Atlas — we had lived side by side for years. He was my eyes. He died under someone else’s wheels because he was protecting me. How much pain was he in, at the end?

I turned on the faucet and splashed cold water against my cheeks, forcing myself to calm down. I couldn’t let this blow up. Not yet. We were on a cruise ship in international waters. If I provoked him, he might do something desperate. I had to get off this ship alive. I felt my way through touching up my makeup, then pushed open the bathroom door. “Feeling better?” Arthur stepped toward me, his voice back to that sickeningly gentle tone. “Still not great. Arthur, I want to go back to the room and rest.” I pressed a hand to my stomach, brow furrowed, putting on a show of weakness. Arthur went quiet for two seconds. 【Master, he’s clenching his jaw. He’s furious.】 “Alright. If you’re not feeling well, we’ll head back to the room. I’ll have someone clean up the pool area.” Arthur gave in and guided me toward the cabin. The VIP suite was thick with the scent of expensive incense. “Scarls, lie down. I’ll get you some hot water.” I leaned against the headboard, listening to his footsteps as he walked toward the mini bar. 【Master, he put a white powder in the water! It’s a hallucinogen! He wants you to lose your mind and jump overboard!】 My heart seized. I gripped the bedsheets with both hands. “Here’s your water. It’s a little hot — drink slowly.” Arthur placed the glass in my hands. The warmth from the glass made my blood run cold. “Arthur, I want something sweet to settle my stomach. Could you go to the restaurant and get me a slice of Black Forest cake?” I cradled the glass, keeping my voice soft and sweet. “Well…” Arthur hesitated. “What’s wrong? You don’t want to?” I lowered my head slightly, letting a hint of hurt creep into my voice. “Of course I do. Wait here — I’ll be right back.” The moment the door clicked shut, I threw back the covers, felt my way to the bathroom, and poured the spiked water down the toilet. I flushed it away. Then I refilled the glass with tap water and made my way back to bed.

A few minutes later, Arthur returned with the cake. “Scarls, cake’s here.” I picked up the glass and, right in front of him, drank the “water” down in one go. “Thank you, honey.” I took the cake and nibbled a small bite. “It’s so sweet.” Arthur sat on the edge of the bed, watching me in silence. I could feel his gaze crawling over my face like a snake — slow and sticky. “Scarls, do you feel dizzy at all?” he asked, probing. “No, why?” I played dumb. 【Master, he’s checking his watch. He’s timing it.】 I yawned and rubbed my temples. “Though, I do feel a little sleepy.” “Then sleep. You’ll feel better after some rest.” Arthur helped me lie down and tucked the blanket around me. I closed my eyes, slowed my breathing, and pretended to be fast asleep. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed before the room door was quietly pushed open. Heels moved across the carpet — soft, but to my sharp ears, it might as well have been thunder. “She’s asleep?” It was Vanessa’s voice, barely above a whisper. “Yeah. The drug should be kicking in by now.” There was a trace of satisfaction in Arthur’s voice. “This blind woman is surprisingly hard to kill. We almost had her on the deck.” Vanessa let out a cold laugh. “So what now? Just throw her overboard?” “No. The ship has cameras everywhere. If she goes over now, the police will investigate.” Arthur’s voice turned cold. “Once we dock tomorrow and get back to the villa, I have plenty of ways to make her ‘accidentally’ die.” “Then you’d better move fast. That old man has been auditing the accounts like crazy lately. If he finds out we’ve been siphoning funds, we’re done.” “Relax. Once this blind woman is dead and the will kicks in, the entire Sinclair Group is ours.” 【Master, that woman is kissing him. They’re holding each other!】 Under the blanket, my hand dug hard into my thigh. I used the pain to hold back the urge to leap up and kill them both.

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In my last life, to please his first love, my scumbag CEO husband locked me in a freezer at twenty below zero and let me freeze to death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day he forced me to donate a kidney to his first love. I was about to slap that blind bastard across the face when a “Destiny Script” suddenly popped up in front of me: [Say yes to him! In two years he’ll die in a plane crash. As his only legal wife, you’ll inherit his hundred-billion-dollar empire!] I looked at the fifty-million-dollar check in front of me and forced my raised hand into a smile instead. So what if I have to “donate a kidney”? For a hundred billion dollars, I’ll play along! “Sign the papers, and the fifty million is yours.” A cold, condescending voice rang out in the VIP hospital room. I snapped my eyes open, gasping for air, my lungs still aching with the bone-deep cold of that freezer at twenty below zero. Cold. So cold. In my last life, Liam Hayes’s first love, Lily Sinclair, had taken a little fall on the stairs and scraped her skin. Liam had flown into a rage, convinced I’d pushed her. To get revenge for Lily, he’d had someone throw me into an abandoned freezer warehouse on the outskirts of the city. “Let her sit in there and think it over for the night. Let her feel what Lily felt.” That one sentence of his had ended my life. I’d pounded on that steel door in the dark and the freezing cold until my fingers bled, until my mind finally went blank. And now, somehow, I’d been reborn. Reborn six months earlier, on the day Lily was diagnosed with kidney failure — the day Liam forced me to give her my kidney. I looked up and stared hard at the man standing at the foot of my hospital bed. Liam. Dressed in a tailored designer suit, his features cold and severe, looking down at me like I was some disposable part waiting to be removed. “Vera Pierce, my patience has a limit.” Seeing I hadn’t said anything, his brow furrowed with impatience as he tossed a surgical consent form and a check onto my face. “Lily’s condition can’t wait any longer. Your blood type’s a perfect match for her. Consider it an honor.” “It’s just one kidney. You won’t die. Fifty million is more than enough for a woman like you to live off for the rest of your life.” An honor? I looked at the papers scattered across the blanket, and hatred bloomed in my chest like poison ivy. I’d loved this man for three years. I’d been his secret mistress for three years, on call whenever he wanted, groveling in the dirt for him. And in return, he wanted to carve out my kidney for another woman. I let out a cold laugh and reached out to grab the check, ready to tear it up and throw it in his arrogant face. Then, hovering in midair, a line of golden text appeared. [Destiny Script loading…] [Host, pay attention! Whatever you do, don’t refuse! Sign the consent form and use it to force him into marrying you!] [Script hint: In two years, Liam will die when his private plane crashes into the sea, his body never recovered! Become his legal wife now, and in two years, the Hayes Group’s hundred-billion-dollar fortune — the mansions, the yachts, everything — will be yours!] [Lily will have spent her whole life scheming, only to watch you walk away with the entire inheritance and a string of boy toys. Sign it, quick!] My outstretched hand froze in midair. A hundred billion dollars? Dead in a plane crash? I stared at those glowing golden words and felt my heart rate spike. Of course I wanted revenge for what happened to me last life. But if I could get revenge AND walk away with a hundred billion dollars, wasn’t that so much better? Just turning around and storming off would let these two trash people off way too easy. I wanted the money. I wanted them dead. And I wanted them to wish they’d never been born! I took a deep breath, swallowed the murderous look in my eyes, and turned my wrist, pinching the fifty-million-dollar check between my fingers. “Fine. I’ll sign.” I looked up and put on my most pitiful expression. “But Liam, I have one condition.” A flicker of contempt crossed Liam’s eyes, like he was laughing at how greedy I turned out to be. “Name it. As long as it doesn’t involve hurting Lily, I’ll give you whatever you want.” I looked him dead in the eye and said, word by word: “I want you to marry me.”

The air in the hospital room froze solid. Liam looked at me like he’d just heard the world’s biggest joke, and then his expression turned venomous. “Vera, are you trying to threaten me?” He leaned in fast, grabbing my chin so hard I thought my bones would crack. “Who do you think you are? You think you deserve to be Mrs. Hayes?” I bit back the pain and let my eyes fill with tears, letting them hover right on the edge of falling, playing “devoted and pathetic” for all it was worth. “Liam, I know I don’t deserve it. But… if I lose a kidney, my body’s never going to be the same. I have nothing left. I just want a title. Even if it’s just on paper.” “If you marry me, I’ll go into surgery right now. Otherwise…” I closed my eyes and let the tears fall. “You can kill me, and I still won’t sign that consent form.” It was a gamble. A bet on exactly how much weight Lily carried in his heart. Sure enough, murderous intent churned in Liam’s eyes as he stared me down for a full minute. Finally, he yanked his hand back from my face and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe it off in disgust. “Fine. I’ll agree to it.” His voice was cold as ice. “Tomorrow morning, the marriage registry office. Vera, you’d better pray Lily’s surgery goes well. Otherwise, I’ll show you what it means to wish you were dead.” With that, he turned and strode out of the room. The moment the door shut, the tears on my face vanished instantly. I grabbed a tissue off the table and scrubbed hard at the spot on my chin where he’d touched me. Disgusting. I picked up the surgical consent form, a cold smirk tugging at my lips. Donate a kidney? Keep dreaming. You think my kidney is something trash like you two deserve? That night, I slipped past the bodyguards outside, snuck out of my room, and knocked on the office door of the attending physician, Dr. Ian. Ian was one of the country’s top kidney specialists, and the surgeon set to perform tomorrow’s operation. He looked startled when I walked in. “Vera, you’re having surgery tomorrow. What are you doing out of bed?” I walked over, locked the door behind me, and slapped a bank card down on his desk. “Ian, there’s twenty million in here.” Ian jumped, leaping to his feet. “Vera, what is this supposed to mean?” “It’s simple.” I pulled out a chair and sat down, fixing him with a sharp stare. “Tomorrow’s surgery goes ahead as planned. But my kidney stays exactly where it is, in perfect condition.” Ian’s face went pale. “Are you out of your mind? This is medical fraud! If Mr. Hayes finds out, he’ll kill me!” “If he doesn’t kill you, I’ll ruin your reputation myself.” I pulled out my phone and played a recording. It was Ian flirting with some woman, and him discussing a massive kickback from a pharmaceutical rep. Ian broke out in a cold sweat instantly, collapsing back into his chair. “How… how do you have this?” “If you don’t want people to know, don’t do it in the first place.” I put the phone away and looked at him coldly. “Ian, you’re a smart man. Liam won’t be standing in the operating room watching you cut. All you have to do is make a small incision on my side, just for show. As for Lily, find some pig kidney on the black market or whatever low-grade kidney you can get your hands on, just enough to fool the early rejection tests.” “Twenty million, plus your career. A fake surgery in exchange for all that. Do we have a deal?” Ian was shaking all over, sweat soaking through his white coat. A full five minutes passed before he gritted his teeth and picked up the bank card with trembling hands. “Fine… I’ll do it.”

The next morning, I got my hands on that marriage certificate. Liam stayed stone-faced the entire time, not even glancing at me once he finished signing, before shoving me straight into the car headed to the hospital. That afternoon, the red light above the operating room came on. I went under anesthesia and slept right through it. When I woke up, I was already back in the VIP room. A sharp pain throbbed in my side — Ian had cut a long incision, just to make it look convincing. I weakly opened my eyes. Liam was standing by the window, on the phone. He turned at the sound of movement, his eyes still cold as ever. “You’re awake?” I let out a faint “mm-hm,” putting on a pained expression and clutching my side. “Liam… is Lily okay?” “The surgery was a success.” Liam walked over to the bed, looking down at me, his tone carrying not a trace of gratitude — only warning. “Vera, now that you’re Mrs. Hayes, behave yourself. I’ve transferred this downtown condo to your name. You’ll live here from now on. You’re not to show your face around Lily without my permission.” He dropped a set of keys and walked out without looking back. I watched him go and let out a cold laugh. Not show my face? Don’t worry. I’ll have both of you begging to see me before this is over. Over the next two weeks, I used “post-surgery recovery” as an excuse to comfortably settle into the condo, running up charges on Liam’s supplementary credit card without any shame. Hermès bags — I bought ten at a time, rotating through the colors. Designer gowns — I had the sales reps come straight to my apartment for fittings. Jewelry — anything with diamonds, I swiped the card without blinking. My phone buzzed constantly with bank notification texts. Liam saw it all, of course, but he didn’t say a word. In his eyes, this was just a vain, greedy woman cashing in her “payment” for the kidney. The more he looked down on me, the less he’d see me coming. But the gaudy bags and watches weren’t the point at all. I resold every piece of luxury I bought, converting it all to cash. Add that to the remaining thirty million from the original fifty-million-dollar check, and I had a serious amount of liquid capital building up fast. I was going to use that money to plant a time bomb right at the heart of Liam’s business empire. Two weeks later, my “wound” had “healed.” And Lily had “recovered” and been discharged. To celebrate Lily’s new lease on life, Liam rented out the most luxurious yacht in the city and threw a massive charity gala. As Liam’s secret wife — the one he kept hidden in the shadows — I wasn’t supposed to show up. But I was going to show up anyway.

The yacht deck shimmered with silk and champagne, the air thick with chatter and clinking glasses. Lily, dressed head to toe in a pristine white designer gown, looked like a delicate little flower nestled against Liam’s side, soaking up everyone’s well wishes. “Lily really is blessed. After such a serious illness, and look at her, glowing already.” “Right? It’s all thanks to Mr. Hayes. He searched the entire country to find a matching donor.” I walked into the ballroom in a low-cut red gown that turned every head, champagne glass in hand, ten-inch heels clicking against the deck with every confident step. The moment I appeared, every pair of eyes in the room locked onto me. Liam’s face darkened instantly. He stormed over and hissed under his breath, “Vera! Who let you in here? Get out!” I blinked innocently, pitching my voice just loud enough for the people nearby to hear. “Liam, we’re legally married, aren’t we? You’re throwing Lily a recovery party — how could your own wife possibly miss it?” The room erupted into murmurs. Everyone stared at us, stunned. Liam was married? And not to Lily? Lily’s face went rigid for a split second before she composed herself, her eyes welling up as she walked over, the picture of fragile grace. “Vera… no, Mrs. Hayes. I know you must resent me for taking Liam from you, but today is supposed to be my happy day. Please, don’t make a scene. Okay?” [High alert! The bitch is about to pull a move!] [She’s going to fake-fall into the pool and frame you for it! Host, get ready!] The golden text floated into view again. I looked at Lily’s pitiful, innocent face and let a knowing smirk tug at the corner of my mouth. Fake-falling into the water? So predictable. Just as Lily moved closer, getting ready for her “accidental” stumble, I gasped loudly and grabbed her wrist first. “Watch out, Lily!” I gripped her wrist with all my strength and let my own foot catch on something at the same time. A loud thud. It wasn’t Lily who went into the pool — it was the two of us, crashing hard onto the deck together! And I was the one underneath, taking the full impact! My side slammed directly into a raised edge on the deck. “Ahh—!” I let out a piercing scream, clutching my side, my face going white as a sheet, cold sweat breaking out across my forehead. The whole room went dead silent. Liam’s eyes blazed with rage. He shoved Lily aside and scooped me up into his arms. “Vera! Are you okay?!” I trembled as if I were in agony, pointing at Lily, tears streaming down like rain. “Liam… it hurts so much… my stitches must have torn open… it was her… she pushed me…” Lily stared at me, dazed, sitting on the floor in disbelief. “I didn’t! Liam, I never pushed her! She tripped on her own!” “Enough!” Liam roared, and for the first time, the look he gave Lily was sharp and cold. “Lily, Vera just donated a kidney to save your life. And you push her, now, of all times? I am so disappointed in you.” Lily had no defense, bursting into hysterical tears. I rested against Liam’s chest, eyes closed, looking utterly weak — but at an angle no one else could see, my lips curled into a wild, triumphant grin. You want to play the innocent flower with me? Sweetheart, I wrote that playbook.

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For half a million dollars, I sold myself to the most notorious pervert on Wall Street. When I was forced to go up to the penthouse suite to deliver on that deal, the elevator malfunctioned mid-ride and locked up completely. Trapped in that suffocating little box, wearing nothing but a thin, sheer red dress, I stabbed at the emergency call button in despair. The elevator doors were wrenched open by hydraulic cutters. Blinding light flooded in. The man leading the rescue — the owner of the club — was Roman Cross. My ex-boyfriend. The one I’d ruthlessly walked away from three years ago for half a million dollars. He stood there in a bespoke suit, looking down at me from above — disheveled, barely covered, shaking like a leaf. The manager beside him wiped sweat from his forehead in a panic. “Mr. Cross, the woman inside… she’s here as a paid escort—” Roman snatched the tool out of the man’s hands. His eyes dropped to the hem of my dress, dark and unreadable. His jaw was tight. “Chloe Bennett.” His voice came out through clenched teeth. “Where’s the old man who paid for you? What — did he send you up here to play games alone in an elevator?”

“I didn’t—!” The words burst out of me before I could stop them. It felt like being thrown into an icebox. The air inside the elevator cabin was thin enough to choke on. The malfunction had hit without warning. The cabin lurched violently, the heel of my pump snapped, and I’d gone down hard onto the cold metal floor. The red spaghetti-strap dress my stepmother had forced me into didn’t leave much to the imagination to begin with. When I fell, one strap slipped off my shoulder. A wide stretch of pale skin was now fully exposed under the glare of the emergency floodlights. I yanked at the hem, trying desperately to cover myself. But the more I panicked, the worse it got. The broken strap was caught around my arm and wouldn’t budge no matter how hard I pulled. Cold. But nowhere near as jarring as the sight of Roman’s face on the other side of those doors. He wore a black bespoke suit, perfectly cut. His tie was half-loosened, collar open, the sharp line of his collarbone visible beneath. He held a heavy hydraulic pry bar in one hand. Every inch of him radiated a keep-away kind of danger. Three years. He was more striking than I remembered. And colder. “Didn’t?” Roman let out a short, humorless laugh. He leaned one hand against the edge of the forced-open elevator door. His gaze moved over me like something with edges — scraping slowly across my tangled hair, my half-fallen dress, the redness creeping into the corners of my eyes from fear. “So you came up here alone, to an enclosed space, just to admire yourself?” “Having fun playing dirty, don’t you?” Every word landed like a dull blade. Slow. Deliberate. Meant to hurt. Beside him, the security manager — Bruno — had gone bright red in the face. He held up a flashlight, pointedly keeping his eyes away from the inside of the elevator, and stammered through his words. “M… Mr. Cross… the cabin is stuck between two floors. We need to get her out now. If the cable snaps—” Roman didn’t turn around. He kept his eyes on me. His voice dropped to something that felt like ice. “All of you. Get out.” Bruno blinked. “Mr. Cross? protocol says we can’t leave — if something goes wrong, if someone gets hurt—” “I said. Go wait in the lobby.” Roman still didn’t raise his voice. The chill in those words was enough. Bruno flinched, then quickly ushered the rest of the security team out of the stairwell. The elevator shaft fell silent. Just the two of us. I could hear my own heartbeat pounding like it wanted to break out of my chest. Roman turned the pry bar over in his hand once. Then he dropped it. It hit the ground with a heavy, echoing clang that made my whole body seize up. He didn’t reach for me. He just stood there, looking down. “I asked you a question.” His voice was low. Measured. The way a predator sounds when it’s already close enough. “Where’s the old man who paid half a million for you?” “What — he sent you up alone and didn’t even bother to make sure you got there alive?” My eyes burned. My stomach turned over. My whole body felt hollow with shame. Because three years ago, I was the one who threw a check for half a million dollars in his face and told him I was done — that I wanted money, not him. “Roman.” My voice came out wrecked, thick with tears I was barely holding back. “Can you just pull me up first—” “My ankle. It really hurts.”

The hand Roman had braced against the door frame went rigid. The tendons in the back of his hand stood out, one by one. His jaw was locked so tight the line of it could have cut glass. “Hurts?” A short, sharp scoff. His eyes were full of something that looked a lot like contempt. “Three years ago, when you threw money in my face — did you ever stop to think that it hurt?” He stood above me, backlit. I couldn’t make out the emotions churning in his eyes. All I could feel was the crushing weight of his presence. Then— He bent down suddenly. His long arm reached into the elevator cabin. And grabbed my wrist. His grip was so tight I thought my bones would snap. “Ah!” I cried out. Before I could process what was happening, he yanked — hard — and pulled me straight out of the suspended cabin and into the air. The world spun. I slammed into a broad, solid chest. A familiar scent wrapped around me all at once. Cool cedar. A faint trace of tobacco underneath. Roman’s scent. Unmistakably his. Three years ago, I had buried my face in this same chest more times than I could count, falling asleep to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. But now, those arms held nothing but a bone-deep chill. “On your feet.” He said it flatly, then released me like he was dropping a piece of trash. A sharp pain shot through my ankle. I lost my balance and went straight down. My knees hit the concrete. Hard. The skin broke. A thin line of blood seeped through. Roman looked down at me, his expression completely flat. “What’s the matter — that old man of yours never teach you how to stand up straight in front of a real man?” The humiliation hit me like a wave. I bit down on my lip, fighting back tears, and pressed my palms to the ground, trying to push myself up. But my ankle had swollen to the size of a tennis ball. I couldn’t get any leverage. While I was still struggling— A black suit jacket — still warm — came down over my head. It covered my bare shoulders and exposed thighs completely. “Put it on.” Roman turned away, his back to me. His voice was tight with barely controlled irritation. “Then get up.” “I still need the incident report from the club’s security team, Chloe. You’d better start thinking about how you’re going to explain yourself.” “What are you doing up on the rooftop in the middle of the night, dressed like that, waiting for someone.” Chapter 3 I wrapped Roman’s jacket around myself and limped after him. It was long — it fell past my thighs. It was saturated with his scent. Overwhelming. Invasive. Crawling into my nose whether I wanted it to or not. We walked through the club’s top-floor corridor. All marble and low lighting and the kind of quiet that costs money. Along the way, every server and security guard we passed dropped their eyes and stepped aside. “Mr. Cross.” “Good evening, Mr. Cross.” Not one of them dared to breathe too loudly. Not one of them dared to glance at me. I watched Roman’s broad, straight-backed figure move ahead of me. Something complicated twisted in my chest. Three years ago, he was a broke kid getting beaten bloody in underground fight clubs — couldn’t even scrape together a few hundred dollars for medical bills. Now he owned this place. One of the most exclusive, most expensive clubs in the city. On Wall Street, they called him “Mr. Cross” and said it like a prayer. He’d made it. Just like he’d promised. Right at the top. The only difference was — the person standing beside him wasn’t me anymore. Bang. Roman kicked open the double mahogany doors at the end of the corridor. His private office. He walked in without turning on the main lights. Just clicked on the desk lamp. “Come in.” He turned and looked at me — still frozen in the doorway — with cold, flat eyes. I pressed my jaw together and walked in, dragging my injured foot. The doors swung shut behind me with a heavy, automatic click. The room sealed itself. The office was enormous. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed Vespera’s glittering skyline. Roman stopped in front of the leather sofa, pulled off his tie, and tossed it onto the coffee table without looking. Then he pointed at the seat across from him. “Sit.” I didn’t dare argue. I lowered myself carefully onto the edge of the sofa. The moment I settled, a first aid kit landed at my feet. “Handle it yourself.” He crossed to the bar cart, poured a glass of whiskey, and drank it in one go. I looked down, opened the kit, and took out the antiseptic and some cotton swabs. My ankle was a mess. My knee had dried blood crusted over the scrape. I soaked a swab and touched it to the wound. The sting hit me like a blade. “Ssss—” Roman’s hand paused on his glass. He turned his head. His gaze dropped to my knee. His expression was unreadable. “Funny,” he said. “Three years ago, you had such a high pain tolerance.” He walked toward me, wine glass in hand, looking down at me like I was nothing. “You walked away with half a million dollars and didn’t even glance back. And now you can’t handle a little scratch?” I gripped the cotton swab tighter. My fingertips went white. “Roman, can we just… not talk about the past?” “Not talk about it?” Roman laughed like he’d just heard the most ridiculous thing in the world. He suddenly bent down and grabbed my chin, forcing my head up, making me look him straight in the eyes. “Chloe, you think saying ‘let’s not talk about it’ can just erase everything you did to me?” His fingers were ice cold. His grip hurt. “Do you even know how hard it was raining the day you left?” “I stood under your building the entire night, begging you not to go.” “And what did you say?” Roman’s eyes slowly turned red. His voice came out rough, like gravel. “You said you were sick of struggling alongside me. You said that old man could buy you limited-edition bags. Could give you a mansion to live in.” “You threw that half-million-dollar check in my face and told me that’s exactly what my life was worth.” I closed my eyes. The tears finally broke free. They landed on the back of his hand. Hot. He flinched like he’d been burned and suddenly let go. “Why are you crying?” He straightened up, a cold smirk spreading across his face. “Having regrets now? Figured out that old man can’t satisfy you, so you came crawling back to use me as your fallback?” “Chloe, what exactly do you think I am to you?” Chapter 4 I bit down hard on my lip, refusing to let myself sob out loud. “I didn’t come back for you…” My voice was shaking. “Today… this was an accident.” “An accident?” Roman scoffed. “You accidentally ended up at my club? Accidentally dressed like that? Accidentally got stuck in the elevator?” “And that old bastard Richard — he’s up in the penthouse suite waiting for you, isn’t he?” My head snapped up. I stared at him, stunned. “You… how do you know that?” Roman’s eyes went dangerous in an instant. He leaned in, both hands braced on the back of the sofa, trapping me completely in his shadow. “This is my place. Is there anything that happens here I don’t know about?” “Chloe, you just keep sinking lower and lower.” “Three years ago, at least that old man you found was a legitimate businessman. But this Richard? He’s nothing but a loan shark who clawed his way up from the gutter. A fat, disgusting creep.” “For money, you’ll really stoop that low? Even with someone like him?” Every word hit like a slap across the face. My dignity crushed under his heel. “Yes!” I finally broke. I screamed at him. “I’m exactly that pathetic! I’ll do anything for money!” “Happy now? You’re the great Mr. Cross. Seeing me like this — doesn’t it just make your day?!” I grabbed the first aid kit beside me and hurled it at the floor. Gauze and antiseptic bottles scattered everywhere. “You’ve had your laugh. Now let me go! I still have to get upstairs!” I struggled to my feet and pushed toward the door. But I forgot about my ankle. The moment I took a step, pain exploded through me and I pitched forward. The impact I was bracing for never came. Roman caught me around the waist and yanked me hard into his chest. “Get upstairs?” He repeated those words through gritted teeth. His arms locked around me like iron bands, squeezing so tight it felt like he might crush me. “Chloe, don’t you dare go to him!” His eyes blazed with a rage that looked like it could devour me whole. “I swear — if you walk out that door today, I will have someone break your legs!” “You have no right to tell me what to do!” I fought back with everything I had, pounding my fists against his chest. “We broke up! Let me go!” In the struggle — Thud. The worn little pouch I’d been clutching in my hand fell to the floor. Its contents spilled out. A cheap lipstick. A travel pack of tissues. And a small clear plastic bag that slid all the way to Roman’s feet. Inside it lay a tiny plastic star, folded crookedly. Its edges had gone yellow with age, worn down from years of handling. The entire room went dead silent. Roman froze. He stared at the small sealed plastic bag on the floor, his breathing suddenly ragged. Three years ago, on his birthday, I had folded that for him out of candy wrappers. Back then, we were so broke we couldn’t even afford a cake. I pressed the little star into his palm and smiled. “Roman, this is my lucky star. I’m giving it to you. You’re going to make it big someday, I just know it.” His eyes had gone red. He pulled me into a tight hug and said, “Chloe, when I make enough money, I’ll buy you a real star right out of the sky.” Three years. I’d kept it with me every single day. Even today—on the most humiliating day of my life—I’d hidden it in my bag, the one thing keeping me going. Roman slowly let go of me. He bent down and picked up the sealed bag. His long fingers trembled slightly. His thumb pressed hard against the clear plastic, as if he could reach through it and touch something from the past. “What is this?” He looked up at me. His voice was shaking so badly it barely held together—fragile in a way that broke something inside me.

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Have you ever wondered if the person sharing the bed with you every night—the one you’ve been passionately tangled with—isn’t actually who you married? On our tenth wedding anniversary, Nathan pressed me against the floor-to-ceiling windows. His burning lips traced my collarbone, his calloused hands gentle yet commanding as they stole the breath from my lungs. “Happy tenth anniversary, baby.” But my body wouldn’t stop trembling, my stomach turning inside out. Because just one hour ago, I had discovered something: the back of his neck bore no trace of Nathan Jarvis’s signature maroon birthmark. The night was ink-black, the city’s brilliant neon lights glittering beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. I could feel the warmth of his palms through the thin silk of my nightgown, searing into my waist. They were calloused hands—rough, marked by years of writing and working out. But the real Nathan—that privileged rich man who’d never done a day of physical labor in his life, who could barely peel an apple without cutting himself—how could he have hands like these? “Elena, you’re shaking?” He paused, pulling back half an inch, his dark eyes locking onto me through the dim light. I bit down hard on my lower lip, forcing back the scream clawing its way up my throat. “I’m fine. The AC is too cold.” I forced a smile, wrapped my arms around his neck, and buried my face against his chest—so he couldn’t see the terror in my eyes. His heartbeat was strong and steady. This body—I had held it for three thousand six hundred and fifty nights, knew it so well I could trace every inch with my eyes closed. But now my mind kept pulling me back to an hour ago, when I’d been tidying his discarded suit and found something in the most hidden inner pocket: a silver pendant—crescent-shaped, its edges crusted with dried dark-brown blood. That pendant had been around Nathan’s neck the night of his car accident, ten years ago. When the police cleared the scene, it had vanished. Everyone assumed it had been destroyed in the explosion. “Let me turn the temperature up then.” He laughed softly, pressed a kiss to the top of my head, and turned to grab the remote. The moment he turned away, I caught the light streaming through the windows and stared—hard—at the back of his neck. Smooth. Bare. Nothing. The real Nathan Jarvis had a maroon birthmark on the back of his neck, one he’d been born with. I had traced it with my fingertips countless times after we made love. He’d always laugh and pull away, saying that spot was too sensitive. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the bathroom mirror: eyes red, lips trembling. I looked away fast. That night was the longest of my life. I moved like a hollow puppet, going through every expected motion. But the rational part of me kept cycling through one suffocating thought: If he isn’t Nathan Jarvis, then who is he? And more importantly—where is my Nathan?

The next morning, his car rolled out through the estate’s gate. I didn’t fall apart. I went straight to the study. On the top shelf of Nathan’s bookcase sat a combination lockbox holding all of his college-era belongings. After the accident, he’d never opened it again. He said he didn’t want to force memories that wouldn’t come back. I tried Nathan’s birthday: wrong code. I tried my birthday: wrong code. I stopped. I thought back to the day he proposed, ten years ago: “Elena, the day I met you was the day my life began again.” That day was September 12th. With trembling fingers, I pressed 0912. Beep— The lockbox opened. Inside were several journals, some yellowed photographs, and a college yearbook. The real Nathan had beautiful handwriting—precise and elegant, carrying the quiet confidence of someone who lived in his own mind. I pulled out the journals and the yearbook and went through them page by page. The last page of the yearbook held a photo. Nathan and another guy, arms thrown around each other’s shoulders, grinning easily. The other guy looked about seventy percent like Nathan—but his eyes were dark and brooding, nothing like Nathan’s warmth. My finger stopped on that face. I had seen those eyes somewhere before. I flipped the photo over. Two lines of writing on the back. The top line, in Nathan’s handwriting: “My best brother, Kevin Prescott.” The bottom line, scrawled in a rushed, messy hand: “If something happens to me, find Andrew Nelson.” Andrew Nelson. That name hit me like a bolt of lightning. Andrew, now one of the top lawyers in the city, was Nathan’s college roommate. After the accident, “Nathan” had gradually pulled away from him, citing personality differences — something I hadn’t thought much of at the time, but which now sent a chill down my spine. Why would the real Nathan leave behind those words in advance? “If something happens to me” — he had already sensed something, before the accident even happened. I pulled out my backup phone and dialed the number for Andrew Nelson’s law firm. “Hello, I’m Elena Jarvis. Nathan Jarvis’s wife.” There was a full thirty seconds of silence on the other end. I almost thought he was going to hang up. “Mrs. Jarvis, I’m listening.” His voice was low and calm. “Andrew, there’s something I need to tell you in person. About Nathan.” “Three o’clock this afternoon. The abandoned factory on the outskirts of town. Don’t drive your own car. Don’t bring any device with GPS tracking.” He didn’t ask what I’d found. He didn’t ask why I was being so careful. It was as if he had been waiting for this call for a very long time.

The abandoned factory on the outskirts of town was surrounded by overgrown weeds. The air smelled of motor oil and rust. Andrew was standing beside a rusted oil drum in a black trench coat, a half-burned cigarette between his fingers. When he saw me approaching, he crushed it out. “Mrs. Jarvis, you’re sharper than I expected.” “You knew?” My voice trembled. “I’ve suspected for ten years.” He didn’t turn to look at me, his gaze fixed on the grey sky in the distance. “A week before the accident, ten years ago, Nathan came to me. He said Kevin Prescott was obsessively impersonating him — wearing the same clothes, using the same cologne, copying the way he walked, the way he talked. Everything.” He paused. “I told him to relax. Said it was probably just a coincidence. A week later, the accident happened. When the man who woke up in that hospital looked at me with those unfamiliar eyes, I knew. He wasn’t Nathan.” I handed him the pendant and the photo. Andrew stared at the pendant, his fingers tightening around it. He didn’t say a word. “He kept it,” I said. “Why?” Andrew slowly shook his head. There was a flicker of confusion in his expression — the kind he didn’t even seem aware of. “That’s his biggest mistake. And the one thing I’ve never been able to figure out.” He handed the pendant back to me, his voice returning to its usual calm. “Mrs. Jarvis, we can’t go to the police yet. Kevin Prescott has control over the entire Jarvis Group. Without ironclad evidence, making a move now will only tip him off. You need to keep playing the devoted wife. Stay close to him. Find the proof from back then.” “Can you do that?” I closed my eyes. I thought about last night. About those calloused hands. “Yes.” I opened my eyes. “But you haven’t answered one of my questions.” “What question?” I looked at him. “Nathan — is he alive or dead?” Andrew’s expression faltered for just a fraction of a second. Less than a second. But I caught it. “I don’t know,” he said. I held his gaze and said nothing more.

Back in that gilded cage of a mansion, I began the most grueling — and most nauseating — performance of my life. Kevin Prescott was a remarkably sharp and suspicious man. Ten years of living as Nathan Jarvis without a single slip — that took the kind of near-obsessive caution and need for control that bordered on pathological. I had to bury every ounce of hatred, fear, and disgust deep inside me, and meet him with the most perfect smile and the sweetest voice I could manage. “Honey, you’re home.” That evening, when Kevin pushed open the front door, I was already there to greet him — wearing his favorite silk slip, holding a warm bowl of soup I’d spent the afternoon making, a bright smile fixed on my face. His gaze lingered on me for a few seconds. It was the kind of look that searched and dissected, like he was trying to see straight through me. My heart leapt into my throat, but I kept my smile perfectly in place. “Why are you looking at me like that? Do I have something on my face?” I asked, touching my cheek with a playful pout. He smiled suddenly. The suspicion in his eyes receded like a tide, replaced by that familiar, hollow tenderness. “No. I just think my wife looks especially beautiful tonight.” He reached out and wrapped an arm around my waist, pressing a kiss to my forehead. I swallowed back the nausea rising in my stomach and held the bowl out to him. “Drink it while it’s hot.” In the days that followed, I was like a dancer on a razor’s edge — moving carefully, doing everything I could to keep this fragile, false peace intact. During the day, I play the role of the wife of the Jarvis Group’s CEO, accompanying him to social events, putting on a show of the loving couple we’d supposedly been for ten years. At night, once he fell asleep, I’d slip into the bathroom and use the encrypted phone Andrew had given me to exchange messages with him. Andrew was quietly digging through the files from the car accident ten years ago, searching for overlooked clues. Meanwhile, I was hunting obsessively through Kevin’s daily life for any crack in his armor. I started deliberately testing the real Nathan’s weak spots. The real Nathan had a severe allergy to mangoes — even touching one would break him out in hives. When Kevin first “woke up,” he’d refused to go near mangoes, careful not to blow his cover. But as time passed, his guard seemed to have slipped. On the weekend, I cooked myself and put together a full spread, including a mango dessert. “Honey, try this — I just learned how to make it.” I cut a small piece and held it out to him. Kevin looked at the golden-yellow dessert, and a slight frown crossed his face. “Elena, did you forget? I’m allergic to mango.” His voice carried a faint note of reproach. I covered my mouth in exaggerated surprise. “Oh no, how did I forget that! I’m so sorry, my memory has been terrible lately. But…” I paused, locking my eyes on his, the ghost of a cold smile playing at the corner of my lips. “But honey, I could’ve sworn I saw you eating a piece of dried mango in the study the other day while you were going through documents. I actually thought maybe the accident changed your body somehow, and the allergy just went away.” The air seemed to freeze. The expression on Kevin Prescott’s face went rigid. His pupils contracted sharply, and something ice-cold and terrifying flashed through those eyes that usually looked so warm. He was studying me. Calculating whether what I’d just said was an innocent slip — or a deliberate test. My palms were drenched in cold sweat, but I held his gaze without flinching, keeping my expression wide-eyed and confused. “Is that so?” After a long silence, he suddenly laughed. The sound of it echoed through the empty dining room in a way that made my skin crawl. “I must have been so absorbed in those documents that I wasn’t paying attention to what I was eating. Though, allergies are funny things — maybe you’re right. Maybe my body really did change.” He picked up the plate of dessert, grabbed a spoon, scooped up a large bite, and put it in his mouth without a moment’s hesitation. “It’s good.” He swallowed and smiled at me. I watched him finish every last bit of that mango dessert, and I felt no triumph at all — only a bone-deep chill. He was terrifying. To cover his tracks, he was willing to risk an “allergic reaction” just to keep the act going perfectly. He had already figured out I was testing him. From that day on, I could clearly feel Kevin’s surveillance ratcheting up. My car was bugged. My phone was showing unexplained data usage. Even the route I took every day to buy groceries was being tracked by someone in the shadows. I was like prey caught in a spider’s web — the more I struggled, the tighter it pulled. But I couldn’t stop. I told Andrew about Kevin eating the mango. “He’s sending you a warning.” Andrew’s voice sounded unusually heavy through the encrypted phone. “Elena, you’re taking too many risks. Kevin is the kind of person who will do absolutely anything to protect what he has. You need to be more careful.” “I know.” I spoke through clenched teeth, hatred burning in my eyes. “But I have to push him until he slips up. Andrew — that woman who’s been playing Nathan’s mother, Morgan Palmer. What have you found out about her?” The real Nathan’s parents had died when he was young. He’d only had a distant aunt. After the accident, Kevin had brought this woman in and introduced her to the world as Nathan’s adoptive mother, claiming he was letting her live out her remaining years in comfort. But both Andrew and I suspected that Morgan Palmer wasn’t who she claimed to be at all — she was Kevin’s accomplice. “I found it.” Andrew’s voice carried a hint of excitement. “This Morgan Palmer is no distant aunt. Her real identity is the cousin of Kevin Prescott’s biological mother. Ten years ago, she racked up massive gambling debts, and Kevin paid off every last cent — on one condition: that she play along with his little act.” I let out a cold laugh. Birds of a feather. “Next month is Morgan Palmer’s sixtieth birthday, and Kevin is throwing her a huge party at The Jarvis Manor.” A sharp gleam flickered in my eyes. “That will be our perfect chance to tear off their masks.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “430100”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster