Category: English

After Lauren was promoted to Chief of Rail Operations, her schedule became a black hole that swallowed our marriage. In three years, I’d seen her exactly twice. Both times, she’d slipped through the front door in the dead of night and vanished before the sun hit the pavement, her designer bag trailing the scent of expensive perfume and cold ambition. When my father-in-law fell critically ill and the bills started piling up like autumn leaves, I sent letter after letter. No reply. Desperation finally drove me to the central terminal. I needed my wife. I stood at the service counter, sliding our marriage certificate and my travel authorization through the glass partition. The clerk frowned, picking up the certificate and squinting at it as if it were a counterfeit bill. He checked his screen, then looked back at the paper, then back at me. Finally, he slid it back with a dismissive flick of his wrist. “Sir, I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but you aren’t listed as Chief Miller’s family. The emergency contact and spouse on file is someone else. Stop wasting my time.” My heart did a slow, sickening roll in my chest. Did something happen to Lauren? Was she being coerced? In a daze of panic, I bought a standing-room ticket and forced my way onto the northbound express, heading straight for the executive lounge. I stopped just outside the heavy oak door. Inside, the sound of raucous laughter and clinking glasses drifted through the wood. “Lauren, seriously, you’re a genius,” a male voice teased. “Finding a full-time live-in nurse for your father-in-law for three straight years? That couldn’t have been cheap. How’d you pull it off?” My hand froze on the brass handle. My breath hitched. Both of my parents had been dead for nearly a decade. Lauren didn’t have a father-in-law. Not through me. Before I could process the thought, the door swung open. A man in a crisp conductor’s uniform—sharply tailored, expensive—brushed past me. He didn’t even see me; his eyes were locked on Lauren. He walked straight to her and swept her into a possessive embrace. The room erupted in cheers. “Careful, Tyler,” one of the junior staffers joked, raising a glass. “You’re late for your own celebration.” … 1 “Alright, everyone, let’s clear out,” someone shouted over the music. “Give the happy couple some privacy.” The crowd started filtering out into the narrow corridor. As the door swung shut, one of the older guards—a guy named Joe who I used to work shifts with years ago—stopped dead when he saw me. “Norton? Norton Henderson?” He blinked, his brow furrowing in genuine confusion. “I thought you quit years ago. What are you doing back here? Reliving the glory days?” Quit? My brain felt like it was short-circuiting. The words were there, heavy and bitter, but they wouldn’t leave my throat. Three years ago, right after Lauren and I exchanged vows, she told me her father had suffered a massive stroke that left him paralyzed. She was the breadwinner, the one with the high-flying career. She couldn’t quit. She begged me, tears streaming down her face, to step up. “Norton, you’re the only person I trust with him,” she’d whispered, her hands trembling in mine. “I’ll keep your spot at the station open. As soon as he’s better, I’ll bring you back. I promise.” I loved her with a ferocity that bordered on blindness. I’d walked away from my career without a second thought. But standing here now, looking at Joe, the truth started to settle in like lead. Rail jobs are prestigious—they don’t stay “open.” She hadn’t put me on leave; she’d resigned for me. She’d handed my life over to the man inside that room. The man they called her husband. Joe mistook my silence for nostalgia. “You really vanished, man. Didn’t even show up for Lauren’s big wedding bash. We all wondered where the hell her ‘old work buddy’ had gotten to.” “I… I’ve been away,” I managed to choke out. My voice sounded like it belonged to a ghost. When Lauren and I “married,” she told me we were too broke for a ceremony. We’d had a somber dinner at a roadside diner, lit two cheap candles in our cramped apartment, and called it forever. No rings. No photos. No witnesses. The door opened again. Tyler, the man in the uniform, stepped out, looking energized. “What’s the hold-up?” he asked, spotting the small huddle. Joe gestured toward me. “Tyler, meet Norton. He was one of the best conductors on the line before you took over his route. He and Lauren started at the academy together.” Tyler beamed, extending a hand that looked like it had never seen a day of hard labor. “So you’re the famous Norton! I’m Tyler Vance, Lauren’s husband. I stepped into your old shoes, though I hear I’ve got a lot to live up to. Lauren’s always saying how ‘reliable’ you are.” He laughed, a rich, confident sound. “Honestly, I don’t know how we’d manage without that nurse Lauren found for my dad. It lets us actually spend time together on the road. Most devoted wife in the world, this one.” One of the girls from the office chimed in, “Seriously. Three dollars an hour for a live-in? Lauren, you’re a shark. Where did you find such a desperate charity case?” Three dollars. The air in the corridor felt thin. I couldn’t breathe. For three years, I had cared for that man. I’d changed his linens, bathed him, endured his screaming fits. Lauren told me she was broke, that every cent went to “specialists.” I’d stayed up until 3:00 AM every night doing freelance transcription work just to buy the old man’s heart medication. I wasn’t a husband. I wasn’t even a martyr. I was the “cheap help” she’d scammed to keep her lover’s father comfortable. “Norton? Hey, man, you okay? You’re… you’re crying.” Tyler’s voice dropped, sounding genuinely concerned, which only made it worse. I wiped my face, surprised to find it wet. My chest felt like it had been hollowed out with a rusted spoon. “Tough times, huh?” Tyler sighed, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a silk pocketbook and handed me a handkerchief. “Keep it. Seriously. If you’re looking for work, I can talk to Lauren. She’s got a soft spot for the ‘old guard.’” I stared at the handkerchief. It was a deep navy silk with a subtle silver embroidery. I recognized it instantly. I’d saved up for three months to buy that for Lauren as a wedding gift from a boutique downtown. She’d cried when I gave it to her, promising she’d keep it close to her heart wherever the rails took her. Now, it was just a rag her “real” husband used to wipe away the tears of a man he considered a pathetic stranger. I gripped the silk until my knuckles turned white. My eyes caught the vintage charcoal suit I was wearing—my only “nice” clothes, now frayed at the cuffs and faded from years of washing. Tyler’s eyes lit up. “That’s a sharp cut on that blazer, Norton. Brooks Brothers?” “I had it made,” I whispered. It was a lie. I’d tailored it myself to save money for Lauren’s “debts.” “It’s classic,” Tyler said, nodding. “Listen, could you give me the name of your tailor? I’ve got a big event coming up and I want to look that sharp.” Before I could answer, the train’s whistle shrieked, signaling the departure. 2 I needed to get off. I needed to run until my lungs burned. But Tyler grabbed my arm, his grip friendly but firm. “Seriously, Norton, help a guy out! Lauren loves when I dress classic. Our son’s first birthday party is in a few weeks—I want to look like a million bucks for her.” Son. The word hit me like a physical blow. Without waiting for a response, he scribbled an address on a scrap of paper and tucked it into my jacket pocket. “Drop the tailor’s info there if you find it. See ya around, Norton!” The heavy doors hissed shut. The train began to groan and roll, a green-and-silver blur picking up speed. I stood on the platform, paralyzed, watching my wife’s life disappear into the distance. When I finally stumbled back to the “rental” house on the edge of town, I barely had the door open before a heavy ceramic mug shattered against the wall next to my head. “Where the hell have you been? I’m starving! You useless piece of trash!” The old man—Mr. Garrity—glared at me from his wheelchair. I looked at the blood trickling down my cheek where a shard had grazed me. For three years, I’d looked for Lauren’s eyes in his. I’d looked for a family resemblance to justify the abuse I endured. Now, seeing him clearly, I realized there was none. But he looked exactly like Tyler. He had the same arrogant curve to his brow. “What are you staring at?” he barked. “Get in the kitchen!” I didn’t move. I didn’t argue. I walked into my cramped, windowless bedroom and locked the door. I sank onto the floor and let out a sound that wasn’t a cry—it was a howl of pure, unadulterled grief. Lauren hadn’t just cheated. She had erased me. She’d turned my love into a commodity, a way to subsidize her “real” life. I cried until I was numb, my body heavy on the thin mattress. My hand brushed the pocket of my jacket, finding the scrap of paper Tyler had given me. 322 Crestview Drive. The blood in my veins turned to ice. That wasn’t a rental address. That was my childhood home. The house my parents had left me. After we “married,” Lauren told me the neighborhood was too painful for me, that I’d be happier in the quiet suburbs. She told me she’d rented out the Crestview house to a “nice family” to help pay for her father’s medical bills. She’d taken the keys and I hadn’t seen a dime of the rent in three years. I didn’t sleep. The next morning, I took the bus across town. I stood at the gate of my own home at noon. Tyler opened the door, his face lighting up with genuine surprise. “Norton! You actually came. I was just telling Lauren I forgot to give you my measurements.” I stepped into the yard. My father’s prize-winning oak tree was gone. In its place was a professionally installed koi pond. Tyler followed my gaze, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Beautiful, right? Lauren knew I loved fishing, so she had the tree cleared out and the pond put in last spring. Best anniversary gift ever.” He led me inside. Everything was different. The walls were painted a trendy slate gray. The furniture was modern, expensive. “Here, try this,” Tyler said, handing me a steaming cup of artisanal coffee. “Lauren brought the beans back from a trip to Seattle. Best stuff on the coast.” He popped a piece of gourmet chocolate into his mouth. “She says this is how they do ‘afternoon tea’ in Europe. Very sophisticated.” He turned on a high-end Bose system. Smooth jazz filled the room—music I didn’t recognize, a lifestyle I had funded with my own sweat and the loss of my dignity. “She calls it… living the dream,” Tyler said, a goofy, lovestruck grin on his face. He actually did a little half-step dance to the music. I looked at him, the bile rising in my throat. Part of me wanted to scream the truth, to tell him he was living in a house built on a lie, sleeping with a woman who was technically married to the “nanny.” But Tyler reached out and grabbed my shoulder. “Seriously, Norton. Tell the tailor I need the suit within the week.” “Why the rush?” my voice was a raspy whisper. “The baby’s christening party,” he said, his eyes shining. “I have to look my best. For Lauren. She’s worked so hard for this family.” “And you should come,” he added, missing the look of death on my face. “I’ll tell Lauren to find you a better job at the station. No more freelancing for you, buddy.” 3 “You… you have a child?” I asked, my voice cracking. Tyler’s smile softened into something truly paternal. “Yeah. I wanted to wait, but Lauren was insistent. She said she needed a ‘symbol of our love’ to come home to. She’s a bit of a romantic under that tough exterior.” He chuckled. “She’s busy, obviously, but she hired this amazing night nurse for the baby. We still get our ‘us’ time. She thinks of everything.” My vision blurred. Lauren and I had a child once. Or we could have. I remembered the day I found out. I’d been so happy, so ready. But Lauren’s face had gone cold. ‘Norton, the timing is impossible. My father needs us. I’m on the verge of a promotion. If I take maternity leave, we lose everything.’ I’d suggested a nanny. She’d screamed at me, calling me “entitled” and “lazy” for even suggesting we pay someone else to do “our job.” She’d dragged me to a clinic on a rainy Tuesday. She told me afterward that she never wanted to go through that pain again. She stopped letting me touch her. She didn’t hate children. She just didn’t want mine. I wasn’t the father; I was the help. I turned away, blinking back tears of rage. Tyler, thinking I was admiring the photos on the mantle, pointed to a framed shot of their wedding. “That’s from the big day. And that’s my dad next to us. He looks a bit rough there, but thanks to that guy Lauren hired, he’s gained twenty pounds and his color is great. Lauren really knows how to pick ’em.” I had my answer. I walked out without a word. When I got back to the suburban house, the old man was waiting. He’d crawled out of bed, dragging his useless legs across the floor, clutching a broom. He swung it at my shins with a guttural snarl. “You’re late! I’ll tell her! I’ll tell her you’re a thief!” Usually, I would have knelt. I would have apologized. I would have thought of Lauren and found the patience to endure. Instead, I kicked the broom out of his hand. He rolled across the floor, shocked into silence for a heartbeat before he began to scream. “Help! Murder! The help is attacking me! He’s a deviant! He’s been looking at my daughter-in-law!” He started tearing at his own clothes, scratching his face, creating a scene for the neighbors who were already peering through the curtains. It was a nightmare. When Lauren had “hired” me, she told me the old man had dementia, that he’d hallucinate and think every man was a “home-wrecker” who’d ruined his marriage. She’d looked at me with such fake pity, promising she’d never be like the mother who broke his heart. She was worse. The neighbors were gathering on the lawn, whispering and pointing. I walked past the screaming old man, grabbed my jacket, and went to the payphone at the corner. I called Lauren’s direct office line. “I’m done,” I said when she picked up. “Your father-in-law is a monster. Come get him.” Lauren’s voice didn’t soften. It sharpened into a blade. “Norton? Are you insane? Do you have any idea how much this call is costing the company? He’s an old man. Deal with it. I’m in the middle of a budget meeting. Stop being a drama queen.” She hung up. She was so certain of my devotion. She thought I was her dog, happy for the scraps of her attention. I stood by the phone, my hand trembling, ready to call back and burn it all down, but a neighbor ran up to me, breathless. “Norton! Get back there! The old man… he fell. He hit his head on the radiator. He’s not moving!” The next hour was a blur of sirens and flashing lights. At the hospital, the ER doctor came out with a clipboard. “We need a signature for emergency surgery. Next of kin?” The neighbors pushed me forward. I looked at the pen, then at the doctor. My voice was eerily calm. “I’m not his family. I’m just the help. But his son and his ‘wife’ will be here shortly. Wait for them.” Lauren, the woman who was “too busy” for a phone call, arrived in forty minutes. Tyler was right behind her, his face pale and tear-streaked. When Tyler saw me standing in the waiting room, his grief turned to pure, unadulterated rage. He lunged at me, his fist narrowly missing my jaw. “You! What did you do? Lauren said you were a professional! You let him fall? I’ll kill you, you pathetic loser!” I didn’t move. I looked past him, straight into Lauren’s eyes. 4 Lauren’s gaze flickered. For a split second, I saw it—the calculation, the fear, the cold gears of her mind turning to find an exit. She reached out and squeezed Tyler’s hand. “Tyler, honey, breathe. I’ll handle this. Call the police.” The world felt like it was tilting on its axis. “Lauren?” I whispered. “Is this really how you want to do this?” “Shut up!” she hissed, her voice loud enough for the entire waiting room to hear. “I hired you out of the kindness of my heart because I heard you were struggling. And this is how you repay us? By neglecting a helpless old man? You’re lucky if you only end up in jail.” She grabbed my arm, dragging me into a quiet alcove, her fingernails digging into my skin. “Don’t you dare say a word, Norton. If you ruin this for me, I will destroy you. Just take the hit. I’ll make it right later. I promise.” I looked at her—really looked at her. The woman I’d spent three years “waiting” for was a stranger. “No,” I said. “No more promises.” She didn’t give me a chance to speak. She pushed me toward the approaching officers. “Officer, this man was the caregiver. He’s been unstable for weeks. My father-in-law is in surgery because of his negligence.” Between Lauren’s polished “professional” testimony and Tyler’s hysterical accusations, the police didn’t hesitate. I was cuffed and led away in front of everyone I knew. The old man woke up three days later and, true to Lauren’s coaching, claimed I’d beaten him for years. I spent seven days in a holding cell. The woman who promised to “make it right” never showed up. The day I was released due to lack of physical evidence of ‘intent,’ Joe was waiting at the gates in his truck. “The whole station is talking, Norton,” Joe said, shaking his head. “They say you went obsessed. That you were stalking Lauren, that you were jealous of Tyler and took it out on the old man. Is any of it true?” I climbed into the truck, staring at my scarred hands. “You’ll find out soon enough.” I took every cent of the freelance money I’d saved and caught a bus to Lauren’s hometown. I spent two days talking to old neighbors, digging through public records, and finally, standing in a neglected cemetery on the outskirts of town. I found what I needed. Three days later was the day of the christening party. I arrived at my own house—the Crestview house—just as the festivities were hitting their peak. Lauren was in a stunning white dress, a glass of champagne in one hand, Tyler’s waist in the other. They were surrounded by the elite of the Rail Authority. “Thank you all for being here,” Lauren beamed. “This family is everything to me.” I kicked the gate open. Two heavy-set laborers followed me in, carrying two granite slabs. With a synchronized grunt, they dropped them right in the center of the manicured lawn. CRACK. The koi pond’s edge shattered. Lauren turned purple. She marched over and slapped me across the face so hard I tasted copper. “Norton! This is a private event! Get out before I have you arrested again!” Tyler charged over, kicking me in the stomach before I could even steady myself. I hit the grass, gasping for air. “What the hell is wrong with you? My son is inside!” I struggled to my feet, a bloody grin spreading across my face as the guests gathered around. “Take a look, everyone!” I shouted, pointing at the granite slabs. “These are the headstones for Lauren Miller’s actual parents. They’ve been dead for five years. The man I’ve been nursing for three years isn’t her father. He’s Tyler’s.” I turned to the two officers standing by the buffet table—the same ones who’d arrested me at the hospital. “Officers, my name is Nathaniel Henderson. I am here to report a case of aggravated bigamy and the fraudulent seizure of private property. And I have the paperwork to prove it.”

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At three in the morning, the world is a blur of blue shadows and bone-deep exhaustion. But when Sam’s fever hit 102.2, everything sharpened into a single, terrifying point of focus. He was a furnace in my arms, his little breaths coming in shallow, ragged hitches. I didn’t even think; I grabbed my keys and flew to the pediatric ER at the very hospital where my husband, Nathan, is the Chief of Pediatrics. The night shift was skeletal. Instead of the seasoned nurses I expected, we were assigned an intern—a girl who looked like she’d graduated last week. Her name tag read Madison. She didn’t look at me, only at the thin, trembling arm of my three-year-old. She grabbed his arm with a clinical coldness that made my skin crawl. “Hold him still,” she barked. Then came the needle. She jabbed. Missed. Jabbed again, digging the tip under his skin as Sam let out a scream so thin and sharp it felt like it was slicing through my lungs. By the third time she “searched” for a vein, Sam was turning purple, his tiny arm already blooming with a sickening, bruised welt. “Stop,” I whispered, my voice shaking. “Please, stop. Can we get someone with more experience? A senior nurse?” Madison slammed the blood collection kit onto the metal tray with a jarring clang. Her eyes flashed with a nasty, jagged sort of arrogance. “Maybe if you could actually control your kid, I could do my job. He’s just a kid with a fever. This isn’t a spa. You ‘boy moms’ are all the same—so high-maintenance it’s pathetic.” She spun on her heel and stormed out, leaving the door swinging. A nurse from the hematology wing, who had been passing by, rushed in to help. She sighed as she prepped a fresh swab. “Let me try, honey. Don’t mind her. That’s Madison. She’s the Chief’s ‘star student’—or so she tells everyone. She’s got a spine of steel and a direct line to the top, so she thinks she’s untouchable. Half the complaints in this ward are about her.” My brain went numb. The Chief? That was Nathan. My Nathan. 1 The hematology nurse was a pro. One smooth motion, and Sam’s blood was in the vial. Before she headed to the lab, she leaned in close. “Look, if you want to report her, I can tell you the process. She’s crossed the line too many times tonight.” Right then, Madison strutted back in. She must have caught the tail end of the conversation because her face darkened instantly. “The Chief just called to chew me out about ‘efficiency,’” Madison snapped, glaring at me. “That was you, wasn’t it? Complaining because of a few extra needle pokes? God, you really are the textbook definition of a ‘Karen.’” The other nurse took one look at Madison’s face and slipped out the door. Sam was still whimpering, his body vibrating against my chest. I rocked him gently, trying to swallow the hot ball of rage in my throat. “I haven’t called anyone yet,” I said, my voice dangerously low. Madison rolled her eyes and slumped into her chair, her fingers flying across the keyboard. “Low-education, high-anxiety parents,” she muttered loud enough for me to hear. “The literal plague of this profession.” When the blood work results popped up on her screen, she barely glanced at them. “It’s just a standard viral cold,” she said, dismissively. “Take him home. Tylenol, fluids, the usual.” Something felt wrong. My intuition—the one Nathan had helped me hone over five years of marriage—was screaming. Sam’s breathing was too fast, his cough sounded like he was drowning in gravel, and he was burning up far beyond a simple cold. “This isn’t a cold,” I said. “He’s wheezing. His fever is spiking. I think it’s pneumonia. Maybe even croup.” Madison let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Oh, I’m sorry, did you go to Med School while I was looking at the chart? Or did you get your degree from a Facebook group for ‘natural mamas’? This kid is fine. You’re the one who’s a disaster.” She printed out a discharge slip and shoved it at me. “Pay at the desk, take the meds, don’t come back for three days.” I looked at the script. It was a mess—a cocktail of heavy-duty antibiotics that wouldn’t touch a virus, and a cough syrup that was explicitly contra-indicated for children Sam’s age. It even listed an alcohol-based tincture. I was done playing nice. “My husband is Nathan Miller. The Chief of Pediatrics here. Get him down here right now. Tell him his son is in the ER with a 103 fever.” Madison paused, looked me up and down—my messy bun, my stained sweatshirt, my tear-streaked face—and burst into a cruel, melodic laugh. “Do you know how many ‘exes’ and groupies try to pull the ‘Chief Nathan’ card? Bringing a kid as a prop is a new low, though. You should be embarrassed. You’re way too old to be playing the obsessed fan girl.” Sam began to wail again. I stroked his hair, my heart breaking. “Go to his office,” I said, my voice steady. “Ask him. Just say the name Claire.” She tilted her head, a smirk playing on her lips. “Fine. Let’s put this fantasy to bed.” She was gone for maybe three minutes. When she returned, she sat back down and crossed her legs, looking smug. “I talked to the Chief. He said he doesn’t have a son, and he’d appreciate it if you stopped harassing his staff.” The room seemed to tilt. Nathan and I had been married for five years. Sam was three. Nathan was the kind of father who did midnight diaper changes and knew every lyric to Moana. He never missed a call unless he was in a sterile field. There was only one explanation: she hadn’t gone to see him at all. I pulled out my phone to call him myself, but the battery had finally died—the black screen reflecting my own panicked eyes. Suddenly, Sam’s body went rigid. His cough turned into a terrifying, wet gasp, and his face shifted from pale to a haunting shade of blue-gray. His eyes rolled back. His limbs started to jerk rhythmically. He was having a seizure. 2 I didn’t wait. I turned for the door, clutching Sam to my chest, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. But Madison was faster. She leaped up and blocked the exit, her eyes wide with a frantic, defensive sort of fear. “Where do you think you’re going? You can’t leave until you sign the discharge papers! Are you trying to set me up for a malpractice suit?” “He’s having a febrile seizure!” I screamed, the words tearing out of my throat. “I’m taking him to the trauma bay! Move!” She didn’t move. She looked at Sam, then back at me, her brain clearly calculating the damage to her career if this went public. She reached behind her and turned the deadbolt on the exam room door. “You’re not going anywhere! You’re just overreacting to make me look bad. It’s just a fever spasm. If you make a scene, Nathan will blame me! Just sit down!” Sam was convulsing in my arms, white foam beginning to bubble at the corners of his mouth. “I won’t report you,” I lied, my teeth bared. “I’ll tell him it just happened. I won’t let him fire you. Just let me get him help!” Madison shook her head, her face a mask of deluded self-preservation. “You really think you’re Mrs. Nathan Miller, don’t you? You’re delusional. Stay. Put. Until he stops.” I realized then that I couldn’t reason with her. The room was soundproofed, the hallways were empty this late, and Sam was slipping away. I reached for my phone again, forgetting it was dead. Madison saw the movement. She lunged, snatched the phone from my hand, and threw it against the linoleum floor with all her might. It shattered into a dozen pieces. “You’re not calling anyone!” she hissed. “If I lose this residency, I’ll lose everything!” The rage that surged through me was cold and sharp. “If my son dies in this room, you won’t just lose your residency. You’ll lose your freedom.” She ignored me, turning back to her computer. “I’ll just… I’ll order more tests. That looks professional, right? I’ll say I was being thorough.” I looked around the room. Nathan had told me once that every exam room had an emergency panic button under the desk—a remnant of a high-security upgrade after a domestic dispute years ago. I saw it. A small, red plastic square mounted to the side of the mahogany desk. I dove for it. Madison tried to grab my hair, but I was faster. I slammed my palm against the button. Seconds later, heavy footsteps thundered in the hall. “Security! Open up!” Madison panicked. She yelled toward the door, “Everything’s fine! Just a misunderstanding! We don’t need help!” But the guards knew the protocol for a panic button. When they found the door locked, they didn’t wait. The glass panel of the door shattered inward with a deafening roar. Two guards burst in. “What’s the situation?” I didn’t give Madison a chance to speak. I tucked Sam’s head against my shoulder and bolted through the broken door. A shard of glass sliced across my neck as I dove through the opening, but I didn’t feel the pain. I hit the hallway running, screaming at the top of my lungs. “Help! My son! He’s not breathing! Somebody help me!” A few people in the waiting area looked up, confused and frightened. But the guards were on my heels, and Madison was right behind them, screaming, “Stop her! She’s a psych patient! She’s trying to steal medical supplies! She’s dangerous!” The bystanders hesitated. They saw a bleeding, hysterical woman being chased by hospital security. They didn’t see a mother. I saw a doctor in a white coat crossing the lobby. I threw myself in his path. “Please! Febrile seizure! He’s post-ictal and his airway is obstructed!” The doctor reached for Sam, his face shifting into professional concern, but Madison tackled me from behind, shoving the doctor away. “She’s a litigious nightmare! She’s been trashing the exam room! We have it under control!” The doctor saw the blood on my neck, saw Madison’s “Chief’s Protege” badge, and hesitated. He sighed, stepping back. “Sort it out with your department, Madison. I don’t want to get caught in the middle of a psych hold.” 3 He turned away. I wanted to scream until my vocal cords snapped. But the guards were closing in. I had to keep moving. I rounded a corner and saw a familiar face—Elena, the hematology nurse from earlier. She was coming out of a patient’s room. I grabbed her arm, my grip bruising. “Elena, please! You saw him! You know he’s sick! Get a doctor! Get anyone!” Elena looked at Sam’s limp, gray body and her face went pale. She reached out to take him, but Madison arrived, breathless and feral. “I am Nathan Miller’s personal student! If you touch that kid, you’re finished in this hospital!” Elena’s hand froze. I could see the terror in her eyes—the fear of losing a pension, a career, a livelihood. She looked like she was going to run. I leaned in, my voice a jagged whisper against her ear. “Find the Chief. Tell him his wife, Claire Miller, is here. Tell him Sam is dying.” Her eyes went wide. Before she could speak, the guards grabbed my arms, pinning them behind my back. I looked at Elena with everything I had left in my soul. She looked at me, then at Madison, and then she turned and ran in the opposite direction. Madison smirked. “Take her back to the pediatric wing. We’re doing this my way.” The guards dragged me back to the exam room and forced me into a chair. Sam was back in my lap, but his movements were slowing down—not in a good way. He was becoming too still. Madison sat at the computer, her eyes glazed with a manic sort of focus. “Chest X-ray, EEG, and…” “He’s in respiratory distress!” I yelled. “You can’t do an X-ray yet! He needs oxygen! He needs a nebulizer!” Madison ripped the order from the printer and marched over to me. “You wanted a diagnosis? I’m giving you one. If I don’t rule out everything, you’ll just sue me anyway. I’m being thorough.” She reached down and snatched Sam from my arms. I fought, I screamed, but one of the guards wrapped his arms around my waist and yanked me back. I had to let go—if I struggled, I’d dislocate Sam’s shoulders. She ran out of the room with him. I broke free and chased her down the hall. She ducked into the CT suite. She threw Sam onto the cold, hard bed of the machine and started frantically punching buttons. Sam wasn’t moving. His chest was barely rising. She grabbed the heavy restraint straps and began buckling his tiny wrists and ankles to the table. She pulled them so tight they bit into his skin. “Stop it!” I screamed, pounding on the lead-lined glass. “He doesn’t need a CT! He needs an ER! You’re going to kill him!” Madison didn’t even look back. “He stopped seizing, didn’t he? That means I’m winning. Now be quiet, I have to figure out which button starts the scan.” She was guessing. She was playing with a million-dollar radiation machine like it was a toy, and my son was the guinea pig. 4 Panic turned into a cold, murderous clarity. “Madison isn’t a radiologist,” I said to the guards, my voice trembling with ice. “She’s practicing medicine without a license in there. When the board finds out, she’s gone. But what about you? You helped her. You kidnapped a Chief’s son.” One guard looked at the other, a flicker of doubt crossing his face. But the one holding the door stayed firm. “This kid is Nathan Miller’s son,” I said. “I sent someone to get him. He’s on his way. Think about your pensions. Think about your families.” They exchanged a look. They stepped back. I didn’t hesitate. I threw myself into the CT room, shoved Madison aside with a force that sent her sprawling, and hit the emergency stop button on the machine. The whirring stopped. I fumbled with the straps, my fingers shaking so hard I could barely undo the buckles. “What are you doing!” Madison screamed, lunging for my hair. I got the last strap off. I pulled Sam into my arms, pressing his cool cheek to my neck. He was still breathing—just barely. I turned and leveled a slap across Madison’s face that echoed like a gunshot. “If anything happens to him, I will spend every cent I have to make sure you rot in a cell.” She touched her cheek, her eyes wide with shock. “Security! Get her out of here!” The guards moved in again, but this time they were hesitant. They grabbed my shoulders, but they weren’t being rough. “Throw her out!” Madison shrieked. “If she’s off hospital property when the kid crashes, it’s not our liability! Get her to the sidewalk!” The guards, terrified of the mess, decided the easiest way out was to follow her orders. They dragged me toward the main exit. “No! He needs a doctor! Please!” “Madison’s right,” the lead guard muttered, his face pale. “This is too much heat. If he dies here, we’re all dead. Just get out.” They threw me through the sliding glass doors. I tripped on the concrete steps, my knees slamming into the grit. I curled my body around Sam, taking the brunt of the fall. Madison followed us out, standing at the top of the stairs like a vengeful ghost. She kicked my shoulder, her heel digging into the bruise. “Report me now, bitch,” she hissed. Then she turned to the guards. “Don’t let her back in. She’s a trespasser.” I didn’t fight her. I looked down at Sam. His eyes were closed. His breath was so faint I had to put my ear to his mouth to hear it. The despair was a physical weight, crushing the air out of my lungs. My husband hadn’t come. Elena must have been too scared. Or maybe Nathan really was in a surgery he couldn’t leave. If I called an Uber to another hospital, Sam would be dead before it arrived. Then, the heavy glass doors behind Madison hissed open. Not a frantic slide, but a slow, heavy push that felt like the air pressure in the world was changing. A man in a white lab coat stepped out. I looked up through a veil of tears and blood. Nathan. Madison didn’t even turn around. She put on her best ‘professional’ voice. “Chief! Thank God you’re here. This woman… this ‘Claire’… she’s been having a psychotic break. She broke the CT machine, attacked me, and tried to kidnap this poor sick kid. I was just having her removed for the safety of the ward…”

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I ended up in bed with my arch-nemesis after a drinking contest that went off the rails. When I woke up, my body aching and my dignity bruised, I didn’t cry. I pulled ten hundred-dollar bills from my purse, slapped them onto the nightstand, and scribbled a note: “Sub-par experience. Zero stars. Don’t bother with a follow-up—actually, I hope the hardware stays permanently out of commission. Consider this a tip for the effort.” I slept with him, then I gutted his ego. He’d probably want to crawl into a hole and die. The thought gave me a rush of pure, petty adrenaline. Then, I did what any rational woman would do: I fled the country, finished my degree in London, and built an empire while raising two kids. Five years later, I returned to New York. The city’s most powerful bachelor sent over a formal invitation to meet. My twins, the gatekeepers of my heart, shut him down before he could even get through the door. “Mommy said you were a ‘disappointing amateur’ and that there are no refunds on life!” The cold, untouchable man looked like he’d been struck by lightning. “Was I… really that bad?” 1 I was invited to join The Mogul Initiative, a high-stakes reality show designed for the heirs of the country’s elite. I didn’t expect to run into Damian Ashford. He was supposed to be in London, far away from my orbit. He is the bane of my existence. The kind of man you’d gladly pay to have erased from your memory. Our families have been rivals for decades, clawing at each other’s throats for every contract, every scrap of prestige. Growing up, every girl I called a friend eventually became his ex-girlfriend. Every crush I ever had was sabotaged by him under the guise of “vetting them for my parents.” Even the stray ginger cat I wanted to adopt ended up living in his mansion. Because of him, I, Jane Montgomery, had reached the age of twenty without a single successful relationship. In the studio, he caught my eye and gave me a look of cold, sharp indifference. It was a look that said, Oh, it’s you again. How tedious. Asshole. Just wait until I peel back that polished mask. During the introductions, I waved at him with a smile that was all sugar and no substance. “Damian, honey! You’re finally back from your ‘treatment’ abroad. How are you? Feeling… functional?” He gave a dry, humorless chuckle. “Better than ever, thanks to your concern.” I blinked, my eyes welling with fake sympathy, waiting for him to snap back. Usually, this was where the fireworks started. But he just stared. I cleared my throat and leaned in toward the mic, projecting for the cameras. “You really should stay on top of your therapy, Damian. Your future girlfriend’s… happiness depends on it.” The implication hung in the air like a lead weight. The live-chat feed on the monitors exploded. Damian’s face turned a dangerous shade of obsidian. Score one for Jane. The moment filming wrapped, I headed straight to The Velvet Room. It was my birthday, and my best friend, Sophie, had rented out the entire lounge. And then, Damian appeared again. Carrying a gift box. To hell with my luck. 2 “Happy birthday, Jane.” He held the box out with both hands, his expression unnervingly sincere. It made the hair on my arms stand up. This man never did anything without a hidden blade. When I was four, he gave me a caterpillar for my birthday. When I was five, it was a toad. Every year, without fail, he delivered a gift designed to make me scream. I wasn’t touching that box. I reached out, grabbed his tie, and yanked him closer. “Damian, we both know the score. Drop the act.” The faint smile on his lips vanished. “Jane…” “Zip it,” I snapped. “You’re giving me the creeps. Be the man I know you are—miserable and arrogant. Or are you losing your edge?” Something shifted in his eyes. He set the gift down and took a seat at the bar. I signaled the bartender, who lined up a row of high-octane cocktails. “Let’s play, Damian. One drink for every point of that tech merger we’re both fighting for. If I win, the contract is mine.” He nodded once. A silent challenge. Three rounds in, the lounge had cleared out. Most of our friends had stumbled home, but we were still there, locked in a battle of attrition. The alcohol was starting to blur the edges of the room. I leaned into his space, my hand finding the nape of his neck. “Look at you,” I slurred. “I’m gonna drink you under the table.” His gaze darkened, fixed on my mouth. “Jane, you’re drunk.” I laughed, feeling invincible. “What’s the matter, Ashford? Giving up? You always were a bit of a loser.” The next thing I knew, the setting had changed. We were in the penthouse suite upstairs. I pulled a bottle of vintage red from the minibar and held up a finger. “One more bottle. Then the merger is mine.” He nodded again, his eyes never leaving mine. I took a long swig, and the filter between my brain and my mouth disintegrated. “So, tell me. Did you really go to India to fix… that?” He frowned. “Fix what?” I rolled my eyes. Men and their pride. Three months ago, Damian had vanished to a retreat in the East. His best friend, Marcus, had whispered to everyone who would listen that Damian was seeking ‘specialized medical help’ for a certain… masculine deficiency. We all pretended not to know to save him the embarrassment. His face went dark—properly dark this time. I felt a twinge of guilt, but the wine pushed it aside. I reached out and patted his cheek. “It’s okay if it’s not fixed. Someone out there will love you anyway. Probably.” His eyes turned a hazy, bruised red. “Would you, Jane? Would you mind?” As he spoke, his lips moved in a way that was suddenly, agonizingly distracting. They looked soft. Like something I wanted to bite. A wave of heat rolled through me, my heart hammering against my ribs. Damian looked the same—flushed, breathless. Maybe there was something in the wine. Maybe it was just us. Desire drowned out my common sense. I wrapped my arms around his neck. “I wouldn’t mind at all, Damian.” His lips were cool against mine, a momentary relief from the fire in my blood. But it wasn’t enough. I wanted more. Damian tried to pull back, his hands gripping my waist. “Jane, we need to stop. We’re not thinking straight.” “If I think any more, I’m going to go insane,” I whispered, sliding my hand under his shirt, tracing the hard lines of his stomach. “You won’t regret this?” he rasped. “I don’t have ‘regret’ in my vocabulary.” “Fine.” He lifted me effortlessly, and I locked my legs around his waist. When we connected, the sheer physical reality of him made me gasp. Deficiency? The rumors were absolute lies. He kissed my eyes, my nose, the corner of my mouth. Everywhere his touch landed, a fire followed. The night became a blur of hunger and soft cries. “Easy,” he whispered against my skin. “I’ve got you.” I let go of my defenses and let the night swallow me whole. The next morning, the pain was the first thing I felt. My body felt like it had been dismantled and put back together incorrectly. The heat of the man lying next to me brought everything back in a sharp, terrifying flash. Oh, God. I slept with Damian Ashford. Panic won out over logic. I scrambled for my clothes, ready to bolt. But at the door, I stopped. If I just left, it would look like I was running. Like I was scared. I dug through my bag. I always kept cash for emergencies. I pulled out ten bills. A thousand dollars. I grabbed a notepad from the desk and wrote the note. Sub-par experience. Zero stars. Don’t bother with a follow-up—actually, I hope the hardware stays permanently out of commission. Consider this a tip for the effort. I slept with him, and then I humiliated him. Surely, he’d never want to see me again. The victory felt hollow. Deep down, I knew I couldn’t face him. Not because of the sex, but because I knew he didn’t love me. Marcus had mentioned once that Damian had a diary full of entries about a girl he’d loved since they were teenagers—the girl who was finally coming back to New York. If I stayed, if I let him “do the right thing,” I’d just be a placeholder. I couldn’t do that to myself. My phone buzzed. It was Sophie. “Jane, huge news. Isabelle Vance is back in town.” 3 Isabelle Vance. Damian’s “The One.” Their story was the stuff of elite gossip. He’d reportedly turned down billion-dollar deals for her. He’d once flown into a storm-ravaged mountain range just to find her when she went missing on a hike. And yet, she’d left him to go abroad. Thinking about what I’d done the night before made me feel sick. My phone rang. It was Damian. “Jane. About last night… I’m taking responsibility. We need to talk.” I could hear the tension in his voice. “Listen,” he continued, “Isabelle is back, and there’s something I have to handle with her first, but then I’m coming straight to you—” He still loved her. The realization was a dull ache in my chest. I didn’t let him finish. I adopted my most bored, aristocratic drawl. “Oh, please. You’re making a federal case out of a one-night stand. We’re even, Damian. Go play house with your little first love. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” I hung up, blocked his number, and booked a flight. I hadn’t actually left because of him—I’d been planning to go to London for grad school for years. I had the offer from London Business School in my pocket. The timing was just… convenient. As the plane took off, I told myself Damian Ashford was a closed chapter. When I landed, I planned to buy the morning-after pill. But nature beat me to it—my period arrived that afternoon. I felt a surge of relief. The next three months were a whirlwind of settling into London. But when my cycle skipped two months in a row, the relief turned into a cold, hard knot of dread. At the clinic, the doctor beamed at me. “Congratulations! It’s twins.” “Twins?” I whispered, staring at the ultrasound. “See here?” She pointed to two tiny flickers. “Two gestational sacs. One is round, one is more elongated. Very likely a boy and a girl.” I didn’t know whether to scream or cry. Since my mother passed away, “home” hadn’t existed. My stepmother and stepsister had squeezed me out of my father’s life. I was alone in a foreign city. How could I raise two children? “I don’t think I can do this,” I told the doctor. She gave me a sympathetic look and scheduled a procedure for three days later. I went back to my flat and cried until I fell asleep, clutching a photo of my mother. That night, she appeared in my dreams for the first time since her funeral. “Jane, my darling. I didn’t want you to be lonely, so I sent two little angels to keep you company. Love yourself, sweet girl. I’m watching over you.” When I woke up, I placed my hand on my stomach. “Thank you, Mom.” I decided to keep them. The only person who knew where I was was Xavier, a close friend from back home. He’d moved to London years ago after a falling out with his family. He was now a titan in the venture capital world. With his help, the next five years were peaceful. But it was time to go back. The Montgomery Group needed to be returned to its rightful owner. A frantic email from Sophie arrived: “Jane, those two witches are trying to move your mother’s grave. They say it’s ‘bad feng shui.’ I can’t stop them. Where are you? Come home!” 4 My knuckles turned white as I gripped my phone. The “witches” were Lydia, my stepmother, and Tiffany, her daughter. Lydia had moved into our house while my mother was still in the hospital. I was thirteen then, powerless. I was twenty-five now. When I arrived at the welcome-back gala my father had arranged, I walked in holding Ben and Tess by the hands. The room went dead silent. “I didn’t know the Montgomery heiress got married. Whose kids are those?” “Probably some fling from London. Unwed mother… how scandalous.” “And her father wanted to merge with the Ashfords. No one’s going to want her now.” Tiffany stepped forward, a smirk playing on her lips. “Sister, you’ve been gone five years and you come back with baggage? You’re a disgrace to the family name. Who’s the father? Or was it so many people you couldn’t keep track?” Ben looked up at me, his little face scrunched in confusion. “Mommy, why is that lady barking like a dog?” Tess added, “I think she forgot to brush her teeth, Mommy. Her breath is scary.” I let out a sharp, genuine laugh. My father, whose face was a mask of fury, glared at me. “You think this is funny? You’ve humiliated me. I have no daughter.” I clapped my hands softly. “Perfect. Because soon, there won’t be a Montgomery family left in this city.” I didn’t say it aloud, of course. I had a role to play. Xavier, standing behind me, gave me a subtle thumbs-up. Suddenly, the heavy doors of the ballroom swung open. Damian Ashford walked in, looking sharper, colder, and more lethal than the boy I’d left behind. Isabelle was on his arm, draped in silver silk. Tiffany rushed over to Isabelle. “Isabelle, can you believe Jane? She shows up like this while you and Damian are finally getting back together. Only you are worthy of him.” Isabelle gave a modest, sugary smile. “Now, Tiffany, don’t be unkind.” Damian didn’t even look at them. He walked straight to me. “Jane Montgomery.” His voice was a low growl. I felt a traitorous shiver run down my spine. Xavier stepped forward, sliding an arm around my shoulder. “Easy, babe,” he whispered. Then he extended a hand to Damian. “Hey there. You must be the ‘ex.’” Damian froze. “And you are?” Before Xavier could answer, Ben and Tess yelled in unison, “Daddy!” Kids, not now! Damian’s eyes flashed with something that looked like pure venom. “Daddy? You have kids? Two of them?” Xavier picked up Ben in one arm and Tess in the other. “What can I say? I’m a high-achiever. Way better than the previous model, wouldn’t you say?” Damian’s gaze swung back to me, his voice trembling with suppressed rage. “Jane. Explain.” “Explain what?” Xavier interjected, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Who are you to demand an explanation? My wife doesn’t owe you anything. Maybe go look after your own hangers-on and stop bothering my family.” I rubbed my temples. “Xavier, let’s just go. I want to see my mother.” At the mention of my mother, Lydia scurried over. “Jane, it’s not that we’re being mean. A consultant told us your mother’s plot is blocking the family’s prosperity. We’ve had three experts confirm it. The grave has to be moved.” I saw right through them. They wanted to erase every trace of my mother. Tiffany muttered, “Old woman is still haunting us from the dirt.” Slap. Slap. I didn’t hesitate. Two sharp rings across Tiffany’s face. “If anyone touches her grave, I will end you. I’m not the little girl you remember. Try me.” 5 At the cemetery on the north side of the city, I found two security guards standing by my mother’s headstone. “What are you doing here?” I asked. “Mr. Ashford hired us, ma’am. Twenty-four-hour protection for the site.” Damian. My chest tightened. My mother, Elena Montgomery, had been the real brains behind our company. My father, Arthur, had been a mid-level investor who wooed her just as the business took off. Once they were married, he slowly took control, and my mother retired to raise me. Before she died, she gave me a file. She didn’t trust Arthur. I’d hidden it in a compartment inside her urn, knowing it was the only place he’d never look. I knelt with the twins. “Kids, this is your grandmother, Elena. She was a brilliant scientist. She saved a lot of people with her work.” Tears blurred my vision. Tess wiped them away and hugged me, while Ben knelt solemnly. “Grandma, we’ll protect Mommy. I promise.” Outside the gates, Damian watched them from his car. His eyes were bloodshot. “Get a DNA test,” he told his assistant. “I want to know if those children are mine.” He remembered that night five years ago with agonizing clarity. The way she’d challenged him, the way she’d tasted like wine and fire. He’d wanted to marry her the next day. He’d wanted to save her from her family. But she’d vanished. Why? Was it because he wasn’t enough? Was this Xavier guy really that much better? Thinking of Xavier, Damian decided to add another hour to his workout routine that night. He had a lot of frustration to burn off.

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I earned fifteen thousand dollars a month. For eight years, like clockwork, I wired ten thousand of it to my parents on the first of every month. They always told me they were tucking it away, a safety net for my future, a “wedding fund” so I’d never have to rely on a man. I believed them. I believed them until the headlights blinded me, until the sound of crunching metal became the last thing I heard before the world went black. Now, I was lying in the trauma bay, drifting in and out of a haze of pain, waiting for the surgery that would save my life. My mother was there, but she wasn’t holding my hand. She was death-gripping the sleeve of the trembling driver who had hit me, her voice a shrill, hysterical peak that cut through the hospital’s sterile hum. “We don’t have that kind of money! We’re just simple people! You have to pay the hospital right now!” The ER doctor was frantic, shoving a clipboard toward her. “Ma’am, we need a deposit for the Gallagher suite and the immediate surgical intervention. We can settle the insurance later, but she needs to go up now.” My mother acted as if she hadn’t heard him. She turned toward my gurney, her face a mask of performative agony. “Norma! Honey, just hold on! Mommy’s going to go find the insurance company right now! Just be strong!” I tried to scream, to tell her to just use the debit card in her purse—the one linked to the account I’d filled for nearly a decade—but my throat was full of copper-tasting silk. I could only watch her back as she bolted for the exit. That “wedding fund,” my eight-year sacrifice, felt like a cruel punchline to a joke I wasn’t in on. 1. The lead surgeon approached for the third time, waving the billing statement like a flag of war. “Family of Norma Henderson! The patient is conscious enough to say she can pay for it herself! Just unlock her phone so we can authorize the digital payment! If we wait any longer, there won’t be a patient left to save!” I fought with every ounce of my soul to lift my hand, but my fingers only managed to twitch, clawing uselessly at the rough hospital sheets. My mother turned back to the doctor, her wailing jumping another octave. “Doctor, look at me! I’m just an old woman! I don’t know how to do those fancy phone apps! I don’t know passwords!” Jade, my best friend, came skidding around the corner, her face pale from the panicked phone call she’d received. My mother’s eyes lit up the moment she saw her. “Jade! Oh, thank God! You’re Norma’s best friend—you must know her passcode! Tell the doctor! Quickly!” Jade took one look at me—covered in blood, hooked to a dozen monitors—and her eyes brimmed with tears. She didn’t waste a second. She stepped right into the doctor’s space. “How much? How much for the deposit?” “Fifty thousand to clear the immediate surgical hold.” “Fine!” Jade snatched a credit card from her bag, not even blinking. She followed the nurse toward the billing window at a sprint. As they began to wheel my gurney toward the operating theater, we passed the corner of the hallway. My mother reached out and snagged Jade’s arm as she ran back toward us. “Jade, honey, thank you. Truly. But… that fifty thousand… how is Norma ever going to pay you back?” Jade froze, looking at my mother as if she’d sprouted a second head. “Are you serious right now? We are trying to keep her alive!” “I’m just being realistic,” my mother sniffled, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “If Norma… if she ends up disabled, she’ll lose her job. That’s a lot of money for you to just lose, Jade. You should be prepared for that.” Jade backed away, her expression shifting from shock to pure disgust. “What are you talking about? Norma has sent you ten thousand dollars every month for eight years. You should have nearly a million dollars in that account! Use that to save her!” My mother’s face turned to stone for a split second before she dissolved back into theatrical sobs. “I don’t have that kind of money! Do you have any idea how expensive it is to keep a family afloat? Her brother, Zack—his wedding, the down payment on his house in the Heights… it’s gone, Jade! All of it!” The double doors of the OR began to hiss shut. The last image I had was of my mother, clutching Jade’s arm, desperately explaining why the family’s “struggles” were more important than the blood leaking out of me. Every cent of my eight-year “safety net” had been used to lay the bricks and mortar of my brother’s life. 2. “Hey, Sis. So, the Mini Cooper is a total loss, right? What’s the insurance payout looking like? Since the other guy was at fault, you’re looking at a massive settlement, aren’t you?” The first thing I heard as I drifted out of the anesthetic fog wasn’t a “How are you?” or “I love you.” It was Zack’s voice, calculating and hungry. My brother, Zack, sat by my bed wearing limited-edition sneakers and a brand-new smartwatch. I stared at him, my throat feeling like it had been scrubbed with sandpaper. I couldn’t form a single word. A ruptured spleen, three ribs reinforced with titanium plates, and forty-eight hours in the ICU. I had only been moved to a regular room an hour ago. Right before Zack arrived, the surgeon had pulled my parents into the hall. My recovery would require at least another two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in specialized care and physical therapy. The settlement from the driver would take at least six months to clear the legal hurdles. The woman in the bed next to mine had gone to the restroom and overheard my parents in the stairwell. When she came back, she leaned over and told me exactly what she’d heard while she helped me take a sip of water. “Two hundred and fifty thousand? That’s a bottomless pit, Bill,” my mother had hissed to my father. “If we dump our savings into this, how is Zack going to make his mortgage next month? His wife is pregnant, for heaven’s sake!” My father had remained silent for a long time before grunting in agreement. And now, here was my brother, talking to a woman who had nearly died forty-eight hours ago about an insurance check. Seeing my silence, Zack shoved a poorly peeled apple wedge toward my face. “Mom said you probably have some personal savings left, right? You should probably use that for the hospital bills for now. Let the lawyers take their time with the settlement. No rush.” I finally found my voice. It was a ghost of a sound. “The money… I sent Mom… every month. Eight years.” Zack blinked, then let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Sis, that was Mom and Dad’s money. You gave it to them. It’s theirs. It wasn’t a loan. You aren’t seriously thinking about asking for it back, are you?” I stared him down. “Mom said… it was my wedding fund. For my future.” “Wedding fund?” Zack laughed harder now. “Norma, you’re thirty-two. Who’s going to marry an old workaholic like you? Besides, that money put the down payment on my house and covered the custom cabinets Madison wanted. It’s tied up in equity now.” He said it with such casual entitlement, as if it were a law of nature. “It’s just how things work, Norma. Every family does this. The son needs a house, the family chips in. You’re the big earner. Helping the family is literally your job.” My mother sat at the foot of the bed, her head down, silently peeling an orange. She didn’t look up once. I felt a surge of heat in my chest that had nothing to do with my injuries. My heart rate monitor began to beep a frantic rhythm. “Give it back,” I whispered, each word a jagged stone. “Nine hundred and sixty thousand. I don’t even need it all. Give me three hundred thousand. Just enough to survive this.” Thwack. My mother slammed the orange onto the floor. A second later, her wailing filled the ward. “What did I do in a past life to deserve such a heartless daughter? I raised a monster!” She pointed a trembling finger at me, tears streaming down her face on command. “Your money? You think that’s your money? Who paid for your food growing up? Who paid for your college? Do you have any idea how much we spent on you? And now, just because your brother is finally starting a family, finally continuing the Henderson name, you come back to us like a debt collector?” Zack immediately moved to her side, playing the role of the devoted son, throwing a look of pure righteous indignation my way. “Norma, how can you talk to her like that? If you cared so much about the money, you shouldn’t have given it to them! You’re making it sound like we robbed you!” I watched them—the mother-son duo, one heartbroken, one furious. I was the one broken in the bed, missing a spleen and half my blood, and yet, I was the villain for counting my pennies. 3. Jade walked in with a bowl of soup just as the scene reached its peak. She slammed the bowl onto the nightstand with a loud clack. “Mrs. Henderson, Zack—Norma just had major surgery. The doctor was very clear about her needing rest and zero stress.” Jade stood like a shield between them and my bed. My mother’s crying hitched. She wiped her eyes and turned to Jade. “Jade, tell her! You tell her! She’s demanding three hundred thousand dollars from us while we’re already struggling! She’s trying to kill us!” Zack chimed in, “Exactly. Family is supposed to be a team, but Norma’s just being selfish.” Jade ignored them. She picked up the spoon, blew on the soup, and held it to my lips. “Eat. You have another round of tests this afternoon.” I swallowed the warm broth. It took the sting out of my throat, but nothing could touch the coldness in my chest. Seeing that Jade wasn’t going to engage, my parents exchanged a look and sulked back to their chairs. After the soup was gone, Jade turned to my mother. “The doctor wants to see you both in his office. Something about the long-term care plan and the upcoming costs.” The moment my mother heard the word “costs,” she bolted upright. She grabbed Zack’s arm and headed for the door, muttering, “Yes, of course, we’re coming, we’re coming.” The room finally went quiet. “Don’t listen to them,” Jade said, tucking the blanket around my feet. “Just focus on healing. I’ll take you to your scans.” That afternoon, Jade pushed my wheelchair through the maze of the hospital. When we returned to the room, it was empty. On the nightstand sat a crumpled piece of paper. Jade picked it up and read it aloud: “Norma, Madison’s having some sharp pains. We think the baby might be coming early, so we had to head back. We’ll figure out the money situation later. Just rest for now. Love, Dad.” My hands tightened on the armrests of the wheelchair until my knuckles turned white. Jade balled up the note and threw it into the trash can. “Absolute cowards,” she hissed. For the next two days, neither my parents nor Zack showed their faces. Calls went straight to voicemail. The hospital billing office was calling again; my next surgery required a specific set of imported hardware and specialized meds that cost a fortune. They needed another hundred thousand upfront. Jade didn’t hesitate. She reached for her purse again. I caught her wrist. “No,” I said, my voice firmer than it had been since the accident. “I’ll do it. Jade… my wallet and my IDs. They must be with my mother. Can you call her? Ask her where she put them. I have an emergency fund in my personal savings. You know the password.” Jade nodded and dialed my mother. She put it on speaker. It rang five times before she picked up. “Mrs. Henderson, it’s Jade. Norma needs her wallet and her bank cards for the next payment. Where did you put them?” There was a pause. Then, my mother’s voice came through, sounding annoyed and breathless. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, I must have grabbed them in the rush. They’re back at the house. We’ll bring them by when we have a spare second! It’s a madhouse here, I have to go!” “I’ll drive over and get them!” Jade said, grabbing her keys. “Don’t bother,” I whispered to her. “They won’t open the door.” “Then what are we supposed to do? You need that surgery!” Jade was pacing the small room. “I can use the banking app on my phone,” I realized. “I keep about eighty thousand in a liquid savings account just for emergencies. You can transfer it from there to the hospital.” Jade grabbed my phone and navigated to the app. She entered the passcode I gave her, but as the screen loaded, she stopped. “Norma…” her voice was trembling. “What is it?” “The money… it’s gone.” Jade turned the screen toward me. Balance: $125.30. I scrolled down the transaction history. A wire transfer had been initiated three days ago—the day my parents and Zack left the hospital. Amount: $80,000. Recipient: The Serenity Birth & Wellness Retreat. “It’s a luxury postpartum center,” Jade said, her voice dripping with venom as she Googled the name. “The ‘Royal Suite’ package. Exactly eighty thousand dollars for a one-month stay.” They had taken my life-saving money to pay for a luxury “baby-moon” for my sister-in-law. And I was lying here, waiting to find out if I’d ever walk again. 4. Jade was shaking with rage. She didn’t say a word as she dialed her own mother. “Mom, can you come to the hospital and sit with Norma? I have something I need to take care of.” Thirty minutes later, Mrs. Thorne walked in with a thermos. She didn’t ask questions; she just gently wiped the tears from my face and poured me a cup of chicken soup. “Drink this, Norma. Get your strength up. Jade’s going to handle it.” The tears finally broke. I sobbed until my chest hurt, the sound raw and ugly in the quiet room. Mrs. Thorne didn’t try to stop me. She just rubbed my back and whispered, “Let it out, honey. Let it all out.” Jade didn’t come back until dusk. Her face was a mask of cold fury, her collar slightly disheveled. She had gone to the retreat. And there they were—my mother, my father, and Zack—all huddled around Madison in a suite that looked more like a five-star hotel than a medical facility. Jade told me she had stormed in and demanded they transfer the money back. My mother had laughed in her face. “Who do you think you are? This is family business. Norma’s money is Henderson money, and if we want to spend it on our first grandchild’s health, that’s our right!” My father hadn’t even looked up from the baby. Zack had called security to have Jade escorted out. Jade showed me the photos she took. Madison lying on a mountain of silk pillows, Zack peeling an organic apple, my parents beaming at the infant in the designer bassinet. Through the screen, I could see their happiness. A warm, golden glow of a family finally “complete.” And that happiness was built on my bones. I picked up my phone. My thumb hovered over the screen for a long time before I dialed three digits. “911. What is your emergency?” “I’d like to report a theft,” I said, my voice cold and clear. Less than twenty minutes after I hung up, my phone screamed to life. It was my mother. “Norma! Are you insane? Did you seriously call the police on us?”

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I found out my husband had been sleeping around. The real kicker? My own sister was the one who played matchmaker. When I confronted her, the air in her luxury apartment thick with the scent of expensive sandalwood, she didn’t even flinch. Instead, she swirled her champagne and turned the blame entirely on me. “What is the big deal, Jo?” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. “A successful man is going to have options. If you couldn’t keep his attention in the bedroom, that’s on you.” “Are you insane?” I stared at her, my blood running cold. “A woman should be unconditionally accommodating,” she lectured, inspecting her perfectly manicured nails. “Having a girl on the side is nothing. You’re just too narrow-minded. You suffocated him.” A bitter, incredulous laugh clawed its way out of my throat. “You are so desperately thirsty for male validation, Brittany. No wonder you’re perfectly content bowing and scraping, living as some rich man’s dirty little secret.” That struck a nerve. Her face flushed a violent red, and she immediately launched into a tirade, bragging about her “benefactor”—how insanely wealthy he was, how handsome, how he bought her the very penthouse we were standing in. And as the argument escalated, the ugly truth finally spilled out. For two entire years, she had been covering for my husband’s affair. Providing alibis. Helping him hide the credit card statements. Fine. If she was willing to destroy her own flesh and blood just to uphold her twisted worship of men, then the gloves were off. Three days later, I tracked down her billionaire at an exclusive members-only lounge downtown. And I deliberately, effortlessly, climbed into his bed. … That night, I left absolutely nothing on the table. I poured every ounce of my grief, rage, and strategy into pleasing Pierce Kensington—wait, no, let’s call him Pierce Sterling. No, let’s go with Pierce Vance. Wait, I’ll just use Pierce. Pierce Davenport. Yes. I gave Pierce Davenport an unforgettable night. When morning broke, the light filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse, he looked at me with a heavy, satiated kind of hunger. “I still don’t know your name,” his voice was rough with sleep. “What do you want? Anything. Name it.” I didn’t even give him the dignity of a glance as I slipped my dress over my shoulders. “You performed adequately last night. If I have free time, I might call you.” I had done my homework. A man like Pierce Davenport, surrounded by women desperate for his money and approval, was intoxicatingly drawn to exactly this: a woman who was a beautiful, impenetrable iceberg. He practically forced his private number into my phone, his dark eyes tracking my every movement until the elevator doors slid shut. Well, Brittany, I thought, stepping out into the crisp morning air. Your billionaire wasn’t that hard to catch after all. After a long, scalding shower to scrub away the scent of expensive cologne and exertion, I returned to my house, my muscles aching. The moment I unlocked the front door, chaos greeted me. My soon-to-be ex-husband, Mark, was tearing through my living room, ripping drawers from their tracks. “That cold bitch thinks she can leave me with nothing in the divorce?” he was snarling. “I’m getting what’s mine.” And there was my sister, Brittany, practically glowing with excitement as she helped him. “Jocelyn hid some of her grandmother’s jewelry in this cabinet,” Brittany chirped, handing him a screwdriver. “Here, pry the hinge off. Oh, and grab those vintage wine bottles in the back. That painting in the hall, too—it’s worth at least ten grand.” Mark stuffed a velvet box into his duffel bag, looking at my sister with pathetic devotion. “You are a lifesaver, Brit. Seriously, you’re the most reasonable, beautiful woman I know.” Brittany thrived on this. She practically vibrated whenever a man tossed her a scrap of praise. She feigned a modest blush. “Jocelyn just never knew how to appreciate a real man. No matter how much you take today, Mark, it won’t make up for the emotional damage she’s caused you!” The sheer, staggering weight of her internalized misogyny shattered whatever restraint I had left. A blinding, white-hot rage enveloped me. “Are you two out of your goddamn minds?” I stepped into the foyer, my voice trembling with fury. “This is breaking and entering! It’s felony robbery!” I yanked my phone out of my purse to dial 911. Brittany lunged forward, roughly batting my hand down. “Stop being so hysterical! He’s just taking the compensation he deserves!” She turned to Mark, flashing him a sickeningly sweet smile. “Don’t worry about her. Keep packing. Even if you strip this place to the studs, I’ve got your back.” Mark had briefly frozen like a deer in headlights when I walked in, but seeing Brittany championing his cause emboldened him. He went right back to ransacking my dining room. A suffocating lump formed in my throat. My hands were shaking so hard I could barely hold my phone. “Brittany,” I choked out, “first you help him cheat on me, and now you’re helping him rob me? Do you even remember that I am your sister?” She planted her hands on her hips, utterly self-righteous. “I didn’t do anything wrong! You’re the one in the wrong! Do you have any idea how hard it is to be a man in today’s world?” She actually sounded like she believed it. “I felt sorry for Mark, having to come home to a miserable, nagging housewife every day. So I introduced him to someone young and fun to take the edge off. You should be taking notes from me, Jo.” Mark eagerly chimed in, “If you had even half of your sister’s warmth, Jocelyn, I wouldn’t have needed to look elsewhere. You’re just a cold fish. You should really learn from Brittany.” Brittany practically preened under the compliment. The two of them stood side-by-side, forming a physical wall to block me from my own living room, daring me to call the police. I ground my teeth together, the metallic taste of adrenaline in my mouth. “You have so much empathy for my cheating husband, Brittany? Maybe you should save some of that energy for yourself. Before you know it, your rich benefactor is going to toss you out with the trash, and you won’t even see it coming.” As if the universe itself was waiting for its cue, my phone vibrated in my palm. A new text. Pierce: It’s Pierce Davenport. Are you free tonight? I froze for a split second, a dark thrill shooting through my veins. I didn’t expect him to crack this fast. It was a stroke of absolute luck that Pierce never cared enough to ask about Brittany’s personal life; he had no idea she even had a sister. I wasn’t about to lose momentum. I typed back rapidly: Jocelyn: I told you, I despise men who try too hard. Don’t text me unless it’s important. Pierce was a young king of the real estate world. He had everything handed to him. Naturally, he was addicted to a challenge. My icy dismissal was the polar opposite of the desperate, cloying women he usually dealt with. It ignited a primal urge to conquer. My screen lit up with three consecutive typing bubbles. Meanwhile, Brittany was still running her mouth, utterly oblivious. “You’re just jealous because I have a man who actually provides for me! At least I’m a kept woman for a gorgeous billionaire. That’s a million times better than being a discarded, used-up ex-wife! Instead of being a bitch, you should be on your knees begging Mark not to finalize the divorce. No one else is ever going to want you.” Drunk on her own cruelty, she turned to Mark. “Call a moving truck. Take the solid wood furniture, too. That way, you won’t have to furnish your new apartment.” Mark, wearing a smug, punchable smirk, sneered at me. “Get on your knees and apologize to me right now, Jocelyn, and maybe I’ll leave you the sofa.” I didn’t even bother looking at him. I was too busy playing a high-stakes game of chess with Pierce Davenport. I hit the emergency button on my phone and silently connected to the police dispatcher, letting the phone hang by my side. Then, I looked at my sister, my eyes dead and calm. “Brittany, a shiny little pet like you—bought and paid for—is the easiest thing in the world to replace. Don’t be surprised when your billionaire swaps you out for a newer model.” That struck the exact, terrifying core of her insecurities. Despite her constant bragging, Brittany lived in perpetual terror of losing her arrangement with Pierce. She lunged at me, raising her hand to slap me, practically screeching. “Shut your mouth! Pierce has incredibly high standards! I have a perfect body, and I look exactly like the girl who got away—the one he’s always been in love with! My place is completely secure!” Ah. She looked like the ghost of his first love. But I looked more like her than she did. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to drag a man like Pierce into bed with just a few aloof words and a sultry look. My phone buzzed again. Pierce had sent an address for a luxury hotel and a suite number. I looked up from the screen to see Brittany adjusting her designer cardigan, looking incredibly smug. “I’ve survived by his side for two years. That proves he’s serious about me. He’s not going to just throw me away! Honestly, he’ll probably propose soon.” A slow, dangerous smile curled the corners of my lips. I stepped back. There was no point in arguing with her anymore. Words were cheap. Ripping the one man she worshipped away from her—that would be the only poetry she understood. The more confident she was right now, the sweeter the fall would be. I couldn’t wait to see her face when I finally took her place. When the police arrived with lights flashing, Mark’s bravado evaporated. I handed the officers the security footage and left them to process the scene, already dialing my divorce attorney to file additional criminal charges. Brittany, refusing to lose face, trailed right behind me to the precinct. “Oh, you have a lawyer? Please. Anyone can hire some cheap hack. I’ll have Pierce call his elite legal team for Mark right now.” She pulled out her phone, desperate to flex her connections. But Pierce was currently busy sending me dangerously filthy text messages. Brittany dialed him. Once. Twice. Three times. Every single call went straight to voicemail. I let out a soft, genuine laugh. “Wow. Seems like your billionaire doesn’t really want to talk to you, Brit.” She raised her hand to strike me again, but a stern look from the arresting officer made her shrink back. She gritted her teeth. “Don’t get cocky, Jocelyn. The pocket change Pierce gives me for a shopping spree is more than enough to afford Mark a top-tier defense attorney.” Even the desk sergeant couldn’t help but mutter, “What is wrong with you, lady? Why are you funding your cheating brother-in-law over your own sister?” I offered the cop a tired, resigned smile. I was used to it. Brittany had always been wired this way—a deeply ingrained, pathological need to side with men. When the boy next door bullied me when we were kids, she didn’t defend me. She blamed me. “Boys will be boys, Jo. It’s your fault for acting so aggressive. No man likes a difficult girl.” When our father was caught with a 22-year-old secretary, she didn’t comfort our devastated mother. She defended our father. “Mom let herself go. She’s old and frumpy. Obviously, a man is going to have physical needs. It’s totally natural.” My mother, broken and disgusted, took me and left. She let our father keep Brittany. We lived entirely separate lives after that. But when I got married, Brittany showed up uninvited, dropping a five-thousand-dollar check into the gift box just to show off. “This is just the loose change my benefactor gave me this week,” she whispered to me in her designer gown. “See? I’ve always known how to cater to a man’s ego, and now I’m treated like a queen. I get whatever I want.” Because being a sugar baby wasn’t exactly something you could brag about at the country club, she started orbiting my life again just to have an audience for her vanity. Over the last two years, she had talked so incessantly about Pierce Davenport that I inadvertently memorized all his habits, his preferences, his trigger points. Which was exactly why seducing him at the lounge, and maintaining this cat-and-mouse game, had been so effortlessly easy. My manufactured persona—the cold, mysterious, untouchable woman—demanded every ounce of his attention. For the next two weeks, Pierce didn’t text Brittany once. Instead, he spent every evening pulling me into his dark, intoxicating world of excess. Brittany was visibly unraveling. Once, in the dead of night while I was lying in Pierce’s sheets, she called his private line. He glanced at the caller ID, an expression of profound irritation crossing his face, and sent it straight to voicemail without missing a beat. With nothing else to do, Brittany poured all her frantic energy into helping my ex-husband fight me in court. Meanwhile, I was quietly, methodically, moving the chess pieces into place. After a particularly intense, breathless afternoon in his penthouse, Pierce reached into his jacket and tossed a heavy, black titanium credit card onto the marble nightstand. “If you’re open to it, I want an exclusive arrangement,” he said, his voice low and serious. “Whatever you want, whatever you need, I can provide it.” Pierce operated under the assumption that every woman had a price tag. I was going to be the anomaly that haunted him. I picked up the black card, walked over to the corner of the room, and dropped it casually into the trash can. “I just finalized a messy divorce,” I lied smoothly, securing my bra. “I needed a distraction. A physical outlet. Sleeping with you was just a convenient way to burn off some adrenaline.” I grabbed my coat. “Don’t flatter yourself, Pierce. I told you, I hate men who crowd me.” I turned for the door, fully intending to walk out. He moved faster than I expected, catching my wrist. His grip was firm, his eyes dark and searching. “I still don’t even know your last name. You are the most infuriating, fascinating woman I’ve ever met. What do you actually want?” Every other woman he knew wanted his bank account or a diamond ring. He could read their motives from a mile away, which made them painfully boring to him. But I wasn’t there for his money. I was there to destroy Brittany. My utter lack of interest in his wealth translated into a terrifying kind of power. I looked completely, genuinely unbothered by his status. “I told you. I wanted an outlet.” I pulled my wrist out of his grasp, giving him a slow, mocking once-over. “You look like the kind of guy who keeps a whole stable of shiny little pets. If I ever settle down again, it’s going to be strictly one-on-one. A man like you isn’t even on my radar for anything long-term.” A slow, wicked smile spread across Pierce’s face. “A kept woman isn’t a wife. I can clear the board whenever I want.” He stepped closer, invading my space. “If you’re interested, I’d clear the entire deck just for you.” God, I wished Brittany could have been a fly on the wall in that exact moment. But I wasn’t done yet. The timing wasn’t perfect. I swallowed the spike of triumphant adrenaline and gave him a bored, noncommittal shrug. “I’ll think about it.” I didn’t even stay the night. I walked out of the penthouse, leaving him staring after me, wanting me more than he had ever wanted anyone. But the universe has a funny way of complicating things. The second I walked out of the opulent hotel lobby, a hand violently grabbed my shoulder. “I knew it!” Brittany hissed, her eyes wild as she yanked me around. “You’re whoring around in expensive hotels! You’ve probably been sleeping around this whole time!” She raised her voice, practically screaming on the sidewalk. “Jocelyn, you’re a dirty, cheating hypocrite! How dare you try to leave Mark with nothing when you’re acting like trash yourself?” Pedestrians began to slow down, staring at the spectacle. Heat rushed to my cheeks. The sheer embarrassment was suffocating. In a moment of desperation, I snapped. “Brittany, did your billionaire finally dump you? Is that why you have so much free time to stalk me?” The words hit her like a physical blow. She flinched, her face contorting. “You’re just projecting because you couldn’t keep a man to save your life!” she spat, her voice shrill. “You think I’m a failure like you?” “Really?” I tilted my head, my voice dropping to a dangerous calm. “Because the last time I checked, he was sending your calls straight to voicemail. And since you’ve been playing lawyer with my ex-husband every single day, I’m guessing Pierce hasn’t asked to see you at all.” “He is a CEO of a massive conglomerate! He’s busy!” she shrieked. “You think he’s some unemployed loser like the guys you pick up?” I laughed on the inside. Oh, he’s busy alright. Busy obsessing over me. To cover her spiraling panic, Brittany pointed a shaking finger an inch from my face. “He hasn’t stopped seeing me! I’m with him every night! The lawyer Mark is using? Pierce secured him for me!” She was panting now, desperate to convince herself. “Even if you died tomorrow, Pierce would never leave me! I’m the only woman he sees!” I just stood there, letting the cool breeze wash over me, watching her self-destruct. The higher she built this house of cards, the more devastating the collapse would be. Before storming off, she delivered her final threat. “I took pictures of you walking out of this hotel. Just wait, Jocelyn. I’m going to ruin you.” That very night, she weaponized those photos. She sent them to every aunt, uncle, and family friend in our hometown group chats, spinning a vicious narrative. “Jocelyn caught a horrible STD from sleeping around, and that’s why Mark had to leave her,” the texts read. “Now she’s trying to steal his house, and when he went to get his clothes, she had him arrested! She’s an absolute monster.” The gossip spread like wildfire. Distant relatives began calling my mother, berating her, shaming her for raising such a “disgusting” daughter. The stress of the vicious rumors finally cracked my mother’s heart. She collapsed in her kitchen. If I hadn’t gone over to drop off groceries, she would have died. I sat by her bed in the ICU, listening to the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor. She looked so small, her skin grey against the hospital sheets. She gripped my hand, tears leaking from her eyes. “If I had known she would turn out like this…” my mother whispered, her voice breaking. “I should never have let her father take her.” I squeezed her hand, lowering my gaze to hide the absolute, chilling darkness that had settled in my eyes. Enjoy your last few days of delusion, Brittany. For the next four days, I stayed in the hospital. I completely ghosted Pierce Davenport. Every text he sent went unanswered. And true to form, the more I ignored him, the more frantic his need to conquer me became. The day my mother was discharged coincided with my scheduled mediation meeting with Mark and his lawyers. Brittany sent me a gloating text at 7:00 AM: I’m bringing the elite legal team Pierce paid for. Get ready to be humiliated. Oh, I was more than ready. An hour before the meeting, standing outside the sleek glass doors of the law firm, I finally sent Pierce a text. Jocelyn: I need a favor. He replied in less than ten seconds. Pierce: The sun must be rising in the west. You actually texted me. Jocelyn: My ex-husband is harassing me. I’m in a bad situation. Can you come help me? This sudden, shocking display of vulnerability was exactly the kind of bait a man like Pierce couldn’t resist. He didn’t ask questions. He just asked for the address. I stood on the curb, waiting. Less than twenty minutes later, a midnight-black Rolls-Royce glided to a stop in front of me. The moment Pierce stepped out of the car, looking sharp in a tailored suit, I dropped the ice-queen act. I rushed forward, letting out a soft, trembling breath, and practically collapsed into his chest. “Thank you so much for coming,” I whispered, my voice thick with unshed tears. “If you weren’t here, I don’t know what I would do…” The whiplash of this contrast—the untouchable woman suddenly soft and seeking his protection—hit him like a drug. His protective instincts flared instantly. He wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me flush against him, lowering his head to murmur something in my ear. Suddenly, a piercing, hysterical screech shattered the moment. “Jocelyn! What the hell are you doing?!”

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The day I found out I was pregnant, I rushed through the rain to surprise Ethan at the club. Through the crack in the door, I heard laughter from him and his twin brother. “When Rosie finds out on her wedding day that she’s been sleeping with her boyfriend’s twin brother for three years, won’t she completely break down?” So three years of sweetness had been nothing but a revenge scheme orchestrated for his first love, Vivian. Even every intimate moment had been calculated, with them switching identities. On the wedding day, I personally exposed Vivian for who she really was, making the brothers kneel before me in public regret. A year later, when I returned from the war zone, they knelt before me begging to get back together, but I smiled while holding Sebastian’s hand. “Too late. I’ve moved on, and you two will never find redemption.” Rosie’s POV The day I found out I was pregnant, I rushed through heavy rain to the club Ethan frequently visited. At the private room door, I wiped my drenched hair, planning to wait for him to finish and surprise him. Through the slightly open door, a laughing male voice drifted out. “Ethan, your wedding with Rosie is in one week. Is the wedding surprise all prepared?” “It’s ready,” Ethan’s cool voice was steeped in alcohol. “I’ll give her a memory she’ll never forget.” My hand paused mid-wipe, and I couldn’t help but smile. In the three years I’d been with Ethan, he’d truly cherished me like a treasure, loving me to the bone. “If Rosie found out I’ve been pretending to be you and playing her all this time, wouldn’t she just collapse and lose her mind on the spot?” “Rosie probably would never imagine in her wildest dreams that Ethan has an identical twin brother!” “She’s always been so high and mighty, hasn’t she? If she knew she’d been screwed by her boyfriend’s brother for three years, I wonder how priceless her expression would be.” The men’s malicious laughter froze me in place instantly. I could barely believe my ears. I stepped forward to see what was happening inside the room. The next second, I saw a man sitting next to Ethan who looked exactly like him-from appearance to hairstyle, even the teardrop mole at the corner of his eye was identical! The man let out a scoff and leaned back lazily on the sofa. “Who told her to bully Vivian? Vivian is my brother’s precious treasure. To punish her and make her fall from the highest happiness into hell, my brother really went through a lot.” The male friends who were usually warm to me chimed in with teasing remarks. “Ryan, you’re the one who had it hard. You did all the physical work these past few years!” “If I looked the same, I’d want to do that physical work too!” “Exactly. That face, that body Rosie has. Damn. If she goes crazy after the wedding, why not let us have some fun with her first?” “Ethan came up with this plan for Vivian, played along for three years, and still managed not to touch her. What a good man!” Ethan. Ryan. Vivian. My head buzzed, my blood nearly freezing, unable to breathe. My body trembled uncontrollably, and tears spilled from my eyes without permission. So the love I thought was happiness had been a lie all along. A trap set for me because of Vivian, my tormentor. In the past, when I woke from nightmares about Vivian, it was Ethan who held me and comforted me, telling me not to be afraid. In the past, when I talked about my experiences of being bullied, he was the one who soothed me over and over, taking me to see therapists. I didn’t dare believe it. I didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t understand. Those moments of being loved had been so vivid. How could they possibly be fake? The voices in the room continued. “Vivian’s coming back to the country soon. Ethan, you won’t have to keep flying back and forth anymore. All those weekly flights. Aren’t you tired?” “After three years of role-playing, I can finally be myself again! Every time my brother flies overseas, I’m the one coaxing Rosie…” “Your voices are different. She never noticed?” Ryan scoffed. “That stupid woman. I deliberately lowered my voice and told her I had laryngitis. Every time she fussed over me, waking up before dawn to make me breakfast!” Another round of raucous laughter. Ethan interrupted. “Enough. After the wedding ends, I’ll give her a large sum of money. Enough for her to live comfortably for the rest of her life.” “Ethan, don’t tell me you’ve actually developed feelings for her?” My heart trembled. I instinctively held my breath, staring intently at that noble-looking man. Two seconds later, I watched him let out a light scoff. “How could that be possible?” “What about Ryan? After sleeping with her for three years, you didn’t catch feelings, did you?” Ethan turned to look at Ryan, who shook his head vigorously. “After three years, I’m sick of her. Brother, why don’t you take a turn?” Ethan smiled coldly. “I find her disgusting.” “Look, this wedding was something she begged for. I’m only giving her money to keep her from clinging to me.” “Time’s a bit tight. Help me prepare.” “One week from now, right after revealing the truth, I’m going to propose to Vivian!”

Rosie’s POV I don’t know how I left the club. Rain pelted my body like beans, but I didn’t care. Only the conversation from the room replayed over and over in my mind. Vivian… Just hearing that name made my whole body tremble uncontrollably. I didn’t understand. She’d already left the country. Why wouldn’t she leave me alone? Why was she so obsessed with completely destroying me? Just because of a title, “Most Beautiful Girl on Campus.” Because my candid photo beat Vivian’s heavily edited entry photo, Vivian had cornered me in the bathroom with a group of people, tormented me with every method possible, then shoved my head into a toilet. Because I refused to kneel and apologize, for the next three years, I lived through hell. She beat me up. She stabbed me with needles. She even put thumbtacks in my shoes, got the whole class to isolate and bully me, sabotaged my part-time jobs, spread rumors about me. She also arranged for many rich guys to pursue me. Once I overheard her plot. She wanted money to corrupt me, then cruelly abandon me. Vivian never succeeded. Even when she studied abroad in junior year, she hadn’t completely broken me. But by then, I was already severely depressed and engaging in serious self-harm. That’s when Ethan appeared. He wasn’t like the other rich boys pursuing her, always examining me with lewd, appraising eyes, throwing bank cards at me. His gaze was honest. He genuinely tried to understand my struggles and listen to my needs. When he learned I had a grandmother who needed long-term medication, he didn’t look down on me. Instead, he improved my life within limits I could accept. He introduced me to internships and part-time jobs. Between work shifts, he’d sit with me at convenience stores eating dinner, then gently pat my head. “Rosie, you’ve worked so hard. You’re really amazing.” Once when Grandma got sick and I was out of town, Ethan sent her to the hospital and personally stayed with her for a day and night. When I rushed back the next day, he was exhausted but smiled to comfort me. “Grandma’s fine. Don’t worry. Don’t wear yourself out.” A voice inside me said then: “It’s him. Try to trust him. Regardless of the outcome, treasure the present.” Later, he continued to treat me well, even bravely standing up to his family to be with me. Ryan’s contemptuous mocking laughter echoed in my mind again. “She’s so stupid. How could the family allow an orphan like her to marry in? Just hire two actors to put on a show, have my brother fight for her a bit, and she’s completely devoted.” “So stupid. Three years and she never noticed anything wrong.” “So stupid. Even now she thinks Ethan is devoted to her.” “So stupid, so stupid, so stupid…” I collapsed in the rain, tears mixing with rainwater pouring down. So stupid… I really was… so stupid. I threw my head back and laughed madly, letting the torrential rain ruthlessly pound my face. My phone rang suddenly. It was Grandma’s caregiver. “Rosie, come quick! Your grandma isn’t going to make it!” My head buzzed, instantly going blank, my limbs going weak. On pure instinct, I scrambled up from the ground and rushed to the roadside to flag down a car. But every car just flashed their lights frantically, honking long and driving past. Just as I was about to run to the hospital, a Range Rover stopped. A rugged-looking man asked my destination. Not caring about safety, I quickly got in. When I reached the hospital, the doctor had already issued a critical condition notice. “Respiratory failure. Resuscitation would be meaningless. Spend some quality time with her.” I fell to my knees, trembling as I grasped Grandma’s hand. Grandma smiled with effort. “Rosie… don’t cry… I’m sorry. Grandma still couldn’t hold on until your wedding…” I shook my head forcefully. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t control my anguished sobs. Grandma’s gaze searched the room with difficulty. “Where’s Ethan… Grandma wants to see him…” “Okay.” I pulled out my phone, dialing Ethan’s number over and over. The calls were hung up repeatedly. I quickly sent messages. “Ethan, Grandma’s heart is failing. She can’t hold on. Please come to the hospital quickly. Grandma wants to see you one last time.” “Ethan, Grandma is waiting for you. Just one visit. Can you come?” “Ethan, please…” My trembling hands rapidly tapped the keyboard, tears falling one by one onto the phone screen. In that moment, lies and deception didn’t matter. As long as Ethan could come, as long as Grandma could pass peacefully, nothing else mattered. But there was no word from Ethan. I stopped, forced out a smile with all my strength, and held Grandma’s hand trying to comfort her. “Grandma, Ethan is probably tied up with something. Don’t worry. Our relationship is great. We’re getting married next week.” “Grandma, I’ll be very happy… Please don’t worry…” The hand clasped in mine suddenly tightened. Grandma stared at me intently. “Rosie… live well… be happy…” Her hand went limp. In her final look at me, there was worry… I looked at my palm, then collapsed to my knees crying my heart out. That night, I handled Grandma’s funeral arrangements according to protocol, and still didn’t receive any reply from Ethan. During a waiting period, I unblocked Vivian’s contact from my blacklist and clicked into her Instagram. “Originally planned to come back early and create a surprise, but I’m the one who got surprised!” The background photo was at the airport. Ethan wore a mascot costume, holding flowers, his sweaty head poking out, smiling, his eyes gentle. There was also a photo of the two of them together. She smiled sweetly. Ethan’s face was turned toward her, his gaze tender. Disheartened, I turned off the screen. The next afternoon, carrying Grandma’s urn back to the hospital, two things happened. First, I fell down the stairs in my dazed state. The baby in my belly was gone. I needed to come back for a follow-up in three days. Second, I submitted an application to Doctors Without Borders. My supervisor looked at me in surprise. “Aren’t you getting married soon?” I was silent for a moment. “Not anymore. I need to leave. The sooner the better!” Looking at me, my supervisor said nothing more. “You just made the registration deadline. Take these few days off to prepare.” “One week from now, gather at the hospital to depart.” “Okay.” One week from now. Exactly the time of my wedding with Ethan. I wouldn’t just leave that day. I’d also give them a gift on that day they’d never forget.

Rosie’s POV Considering where I was going was rather dangerous, I chose to bury Grandma. I bought an urn pendant, placed some of Grandma’s hair along with a bit of ash inside, and buried the rest in a cemetery. I knelt before the gravestone, gripping the pendant at my chest. “Don’t worry, Grandma. I’m about to go do what I want to do. I’ll protect myself well.” I returned to the villa in the evening. As soon as I entered, I heard cheerful laughter inside. The instant I froze, Ethan had already noticed me. He strode forward and brought me inside. “Come, let me introduce two friends.” A man and woman on the sofa stood up, turned to look at me, their eyes flashing with mockery. It was Vivian and Ryan. My whole body trembled slightly, uncontrollably. This was my physiological response when facing Vivian. Ethan’s voice carried laughter. “Vivian is a good friend I grew up with. Ryan is my twin brother. They just came back from studying abroad, just in time to attend our wedding.” Vivian waved at me, smiling sweetly. “Rosie and I know each other. We were college roommates.” As she spoke, she rushed over to link arms with me, whispering in my ear. “Right, Rosie?” Countless images flashed before my eyes. Every time after bullying me, Vivian would whisper in my ear. “Just roommate jokes, right, Rosie?” I instinctively shuddered and pushed Vivian away. Vivian sat on the floor looking aggrieved. “Rosie, do you still dislike me? I just want to get along well with you.” Both men’s expressions changed. Ethan rushed over to help Vivian up, his eyes dark. Ryan frowned in displeasure. “Ethan, your fiancée has quite the temper. She’s not even your wife yet and already this arrogant?” Ethan shielded Vivian behind him, his tone angry and cold. “Rosie, apologize!” I looked at the three of them, my hands hanging at my sides quietly clenching into fists. Thinking of what I’d heard last night, my heart felt like it was being forcibly torn open. I silently turned to leave. I’d barely taken two steps when my wrist was seized, the enormous force making me stumble. I looked up into Ethan’s eyes, churning with anger. “Who gave you permission to leave?” Ryan’s tone was cold. “A family like the Graysons values propriety above all. Ethan, your fiancée needs to be properly disciplined.” “You’re right.” Ethan’s eyes were icy. “Rosie, you’re about to marry me. You must watch your words and actions and constantly restrain your behavior.” “Reflect on what happened today.” With that, he forcibly dragged me to the basement and pushed me into one of the rooms. Before I could react, he’d already closed the door. The tightly sealed door let in not a sliver of light. Only then did I realize that it was a small dark room with no windows. In pure darkness, my breathing became rapid. I pounded on the door in terror. But no matter how much I shouted, there was no response from outside. I fell into endless panic. In college, Vivian had locked me in a small dark room for three days. No sound, no light. The passage of time became especially drawn out. That time, I had a mental breakdown. Since then, I’ve feared darkness and developed claustrophobia. These past few years, I turned on all the lights every night, even when sleeping. Ethan was very uncomfortable at first, tossing and turning, unable to sleep, waking easily. But every time I suggested trying to turn off the lights, he’d refuse. “Rosie, you don’t need to force yourself to do anything. I can adapt.” He clearly knew. They… all knew. Yet they still chose to punish me this way, just because I pushed Vivian once. My heart ached dully. I curled up in the corner, holding my trembling self tightly. Yes, the past warmth had been fake all along. It was deliberately performed by them. Even this dark room was probably custom-made for me.

Rosie’s POV Two days later, Ethan came to open the door, a pleased smile playing at his lips. “Vivian doesn’t blame you for what happened last time. Get ready. We’re going to try on wedding dresses and rings.” I was taken to a bridal shop. As soon as I got out of the car, I saw Vivian and Ryan already waiting inside. Vivian greeted me enthusiastically. “Rosie, you’re here? I didn’t get a chance to congratulate you last time. Ethan and I are best friends. Today let me help you choose a wedding dress!” Her face wore a smile, waiting to see me lose composure. I showed not a trace of terror or disgust, smiling as I said: “Thank you. I appreciate it.” Vivian’s expression darkened instantly, then she raised her smile again, linking arms with both Ethan and Ryan on either side, saying meaningfully: “Then I’ll try them on with you. Rosie, I’ll be a bride very soon too.” I smiled. “Congratulations.” The light in Vivian’s eyes completely darkened. After that, whenever I glanced twice at a wedding dress, Vivian would call the staff over first and try it on. Each time she came out, she’d take Ethan’s hand. “Ethan, how is it? Does it look good?” And each time Ethan looked entranced, lavishing praise. Ryan also circled around Vivian. The two completely ignored me. The staff member said enviously: “This bride is so lucky…” Vivian let out an “oh!” and turned to look at me standing aside like an outsider. “Sorry, Rosie. You’re the bride. You should try them on first.” She punched Ethan’s chest playfully. “Ethan, what’s wrong with you? How can you leave your bride standing on the side!” The staff all wore embarrassed expressions. Ryan’s lips curved in a mocking smile. Only then did Ethan look at me. “See anything you like?” I randomly selected one and went to try it on. When I came out, all three were already gone. The staff member looked sympathetic. “Miss, Ms. Moore said she was going to choose rings. Both gentlemen went with her. As for you…” “It’s fine.” I took off the wedding dress, returned it, and left directly. Soon after, Vivian posted on Instagram with a photo of a diamond ring encrusted with gems: “The ring Ethan bought for me at auction.” I glanced at it once then turned off the screen, continuing to pack. Besides the clothes and necessities I needed to take, I found and discarded all my remaining belongings, including gifts I’d once given Ethan. Everything Ethan had given me, I didn’t touch. Just as I’d finished packing my suitcase and put it in the closet, Ethan walked in carrying a blue velvet box. “This is the ring I bought you at the auction.” I recognized it. It was the gift pictured in Vivian’s Instagram post. I took it and set it aside. My overly indifferent reaction made Ethan frown. His gaze shifted and he noticed the couple’s mug I used to treasure in the trash can. He raised an eyebrow. “Why’d you throw out the mug? Are you angry?” I pressed my lips together. “No.” But Ethan was convinced. “Is it about the dress fitting? Vivian is just my good friend. We haven’t seen each other in years, so I paid a bit more attention to her.” He reached out to hold me. “No need to be angry with her. If Vivian and I had something, we’d have gotten together long ago, wouldn’t we? Rosie, you’re my bride. Don’t you understand my heart?” Hearing this, my heart felt viciously seized, sharp pain radiating through it. Ethan stroked my head upon seeing this. “I’m sorry, Rosie. I made you feel wronged.” At those words, my fingertips trembled slightly, then clenched into fists, nails digging deep into my palms. In that instant, I impulsively wanted to question him, to distinguish his true feelings from false, to know if he’d had even a shred of genuine feeling in these three years. But the words reached my lips and I swallowed them down forcibly. Ethan’s phone rang. He quickly answered. “Vivian… I’ll be right there…” After hanging up, he ruffled my hair. “I still have something to handle. Get some rest early and be the most beautiful bride in a few days.” With that, he quickly turned and left. I sat on the bed, forcing the tears in my eyes back. Two hours later, I’d washed up and was lying in bed, preparing to sleep. In my drowsy state, the bedroom door was suddenly opened. Ethan, who was supposed to be at the bar accompanying Vivian to a party, walked in. He reeked of alcohol. He casually tore open his shirt and lifted my blanket, covering me. The instant our skin touched, my drowsiness vanished completely. I became acutely aware. The person covering me was Ryan.

Rosie’s POV I used every ounce of strength to push the person on top of me away forcefully and shrank against the headboard. Ryan frowned at me for two seconds, then raised an eyebrow. “Still angry?” He rubbed his temples, his manner identical to Ethan’s. His alcohol-soaked voice was also indistinguishable. If I hadn’t heard that Ethan was staying pure for Vivian, I wouldn’t be able to tell them apart at all. He leaned in close again, hands braced behind me, our noses touching. “I already explained today. If I had feelings for her, I wouldn’t be marrying you.” Ryan moved to kiss me. My eyes went wide. I jerked my head aside to dodge and started dry heaving. I heaved until my eyes nearly cried, but still couldn’t suppress it. I pushed the man away and rushed to the bathroom. Ryan watched me, brow slightly furrowed, eyes flickering. In the bathroom, I slid down the wall slowly and crouched on the floor. Outside the door, Ryan’s voice suddenly rang out. “Did you guys hear that? This woman’s dry heaving. Could she be pregnant?” Immediately after came a chorus of stunned exclamations. One of the guys shouted loudly: “Ryan, don’t let this get out of hand. What if she clings to you when the truth comes out?” My spine instantly stiffened, my limbs going cold. I realized Ryan’s phone had been on a call the whole time. Vivian’s voice followed into my ears. “Ethan, Ryan, you’re going too far…” “Too far?” Ethan’s tone was ice cold. “She’s targeted you for so long. This is the punishment she deserves.” Vivian said worriedly: “But what if Rosie really is pregnant?” After a moment of silence, both men said in unison: “Impossible!” On the other end of the call, Ethan’s voice was especially merciless. “Even if she is, I won’t let her keep it. Ryan, what do you say?” Ryan’s Adam’s apple bobbed twice. “Of course.” The next second, I opened the door and looked at him. He quickly ended the call and stepped forward. “What’s wrong, Rosie? Why do you look so bad? Are you feeling unwell somewhere? You’re not… pregnant, are you?” I stared at him steadily, the corner of my mouth twitching. “No. My stomach condition flared up.” Early the next morning, I went to the hospital for my follow-up appointment as scheduled. I walked out of the hospital at noon. Ethan called, and immediately after, his car stopped at the hospital entrance. He quickly got out and guided me to the passenger seat. “Come on, let me take you to eat.” Silent the whole way, the smile never left Ethan’s lips. The song playing in his car was Vivian’s favorite from our student days. Also the song I hated most. As soon as we arrived at the restaurant, I saw Vivian and Ryan waiting for us. Vivian pointed at the cake on the table. “Rosie, yesterday I was out of line. This is a viral cake I specially stood in line to buy as an apology. You must try it.” At the table, Vivian kept bringing up stories from when the three of them were young. “Ethan and Ryan have doted on me since we were little. Back then when we played house, they’d compete to be my groom!” “Once I climbed a tree and couldn’t get down. Ethan lay on the ground to be my cushion.” “In middle school when I was cornered by boys, Ethan and Ryan both got seriously injured protecting me and stayed in the hospital for ages.” Ethan and Ryan smiled along. The three chatted animatedly while only I remained silent. But Vivian suddenly looked at me. “Rosie, why aren’t you talking? Do you have a problem with me?” “I know we had some misunderstandings in college, but now that you’re marrying Ethan, I hope we can become the best of friends.” Vivian raised her wine glass, lips curving as she looked at me. I didn’t move for a long time, nor did I look at her. The next second, I clutched at the fabric on my chest, breathing rapidly and with difficulty. On my arms, large patches of red hives appeared, vivid and alarming. I struggled to reach for my bag. “You’re having an allergic reaction?!” Ethan jumped to his feet, reaching for my bag. I have a severe peanut allergy. Though I’m usually very careful, I always kept an epinephrine pen in my bag in case of accidental ingestion and inability to get timely treatment. In critical moments it could save my life. I’d already gotten the epinephrine pen. Just then, Vivian’s weak voice suddenly sounded. “Ethan… I feel terrible…” Her slender fingers clutched at the fabric on her chest as she fell backward, face pale.

Rosie’s POV “Vivian!” Ryan, sitting beside Vivian, caught her in time. “Ethan, Vivian seems to be having an allergic reaction!” Ethan’s steps toward me halted. His expression darkened instantly. He turned and walked toward me. I’d already lifted my skirt, preparing to inject myself. Suddenly an enormous force gripped my wrist and snatched the epinephrine pen from my hand. I looked up in disbelief into Ethan’s cold eyes. “You caused Vivian’s allergic reaction. Give her the medicine first!” With that, he strode toward Vivian without a moment’s hesitation, swiftly completing the injection for her. Noticing my gaze, Ryan said coolly: “You’re a doctor. You should have other emergency methods. Vivian doesn’t know anything. She needs this pen more.” After injecting, Ethan picked Vivian up and rushed out. Ryan chased after them. “Ethan, I’ll get the car!” I collapsed on the floor, staring intently at their retreating backs. From beginning to end, they never looked back. As consciousness faded, I saw a waiter rush in. “Miss! What’s wrong?!” I was unconscious for a day. When I woke, I saw Ethan sitting by the bed. He grasped my hand, his tone concerned. “Rosie, you’re finally awake. Is there anywhere you still feel unwell?” I pulled my hand away and closed my eyes. Ethan didn’t get angry. He brushed the stray hair from my temples. “Rosie, I know you’re angry with me. But the Grayson and Moore families work closely together. Vivian can’t have an incident in front of us.” “I had no choice. You’re about to be my wife. We’re a community of shared interests. You should understand.” “Rosie, you know I love you most, don’t you?” Ryan appeared at the hospital room door. “That’s right. My brother had no choice. Big families have their difficulties. We all have to prioritize the bigger picture.””As family, we can only ask you to be patient for now.” My hands clenched tightly under the blanket as I looked at the two men, laughing coldly inside. To deceive me, they’d really gone to great lengths. I didn’t want to get entangled. I closed my eyes again. “I want to rest.” Only after the sound of their footsteps faded did I open my eyes and take out my phone to make a call. “Hello, is this the streaming company? I’d like to book a service…” After hanging up, I instinctively reached for the pendant at my chest, but grasped at nothing. The pendant containing Grandma’s hair and ashes was gone! I panicked instantly, getting up to search around the hospital bed. Just as I was about to go ask the nurse, my phone buzzed with a message. Vivian had sent a photo. It was my pendant necklace! “If you want the necklace back, come now. Otherwise I’ll flush what’s inside down the toilet.” Overwhelming rage made my vision go black. I rushed toward Vivian’s hospital room. Inside, Vivian stood by the window, the necklace dangling from her fingertips, swaying outside the window ledge, ready to drop at any moment. “Vivian, give me back my necklace!” A malicious smile played at Vivian’s lips. “Rosie, you saw my Instagram posts, didn’t you? Tsk tsk. I thought you were so high and mighty. Back then you practically wanted me dead. Now, to marry into the Grayson family, you can tolerate anything.” I only stared intently at the necklace in her hand, nails digging into my palms. “Give me back my necklace!” Vivian moved the necklace a few more inches outward. “If you want the necklace, then kneel and apologize to me. Admit you’re a bitch. Admit you’re fake and pretentious.” “Impossible!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “383567”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

I tamed my wild self for Ethan Shaw, enduring three years in silence just for his love. Then I overheard him confessing to his friends. “Vivian’s so dull now. I miss the old her.” He even gave my mother’s heirloom to Fiona, who humiliated me, and let her smash it to pieces. In a fire, he abandoned me to save her. I died inside, took my trust fund, and left for Zurich. When he chased me to Zurich begging for another chance, he didn’t know I’d already placed my engagement ring on someone else’s finger. He held the shattered bracelet and said “I love you.” I just smiled and took my fiancé’s arm. “Sorry, I don’t pick up trash.” Vivian POV I was once the most spoiled heiress in this city. In the Hayes family’s heyday, our hillside mansion hosted parties every night, and our yacht gatherings lit up half the city’s sky. I lived boldly and freely, driving limited edition supercars, bidding against rivals at auctions for paintings. All with the bright, unpolished pride of someone who’d never been broken. Then I turned twenty four, and the Hayes empire collapsed without warning. The funding chain broke, auditors moved in, my father jumped from the top floor of the corporate building, and my mother’s heart gave out before they could save her. The people who once fawned over me instantly showed their true faces. Overnight, I fell from the highest heights to the lowest depths. I rented a room in a noisy old building and witnessed the full spectrum of human coldness. Just when I was pushed to the edge, my longtime rival Ethan Shaw found me. He reached out his hand, his eyes reddening. “Come with me. From now on, I’ll protect you.” We used to compete openly and secretly, never yielding to each other. Everyone’s favorite topic of gossip. I never expected that when I hit rock bottom, the first person to extend a hand would be him. After that, everyone said I was lucky. First my parents treasured me like a jewel, and even after losing everything, I still had someone like Ethan protecting me. So for him, I began to rein in my bold, arrogant personality, dulled all my sharp edges, became gentle, obedient, and considerate, loving him with my whole heart. But the Shaw family always thought I was too unruly. They made me go to church every month to pray for Ethan, staying there all day until my legs went numb and nearly lost all feeling. This routine continued for three whole years. This time, Ethan’s mother’s attitude finally softened. “Alright, after you finish praying today, you won’t need to come next month.” My heart pounded. “You mean…” “You’ve been well-behaved these three years. Rain or shine, you’ve never missed coming to pray for Ethan. I can see you truly care for him.” Mrs. Shaw said coolly, “At the next family dinner, have Ethan bring you along. We’ll discuss your wedding together.” So, does this mean the Shaw family has accepted me? A wave of bittersweet joy surged through me. I cried tears of happiness, eager to share this good news with Ethan. Learning he was still at the office, I hailed a cab and rushed over. Before I even reached his office, I heard Ethan laughing with a few of his childhood friends. My lips curved into a smile. I was about to push the door open when I caught the content of their teasing and froze. “I’ve got to hand it to you, Ethan! You actually managed to tame the wild Miss Hayes. Made her so docile. Who would’ve believed Vivian Hayes could be as obedient as a kitten?” “That’s because Ethan deliberately competed with Vivian for everything back then to get her attention. But after the Hayes family went bankrupt, instead of turning his back on her like everyone else, he took her in. How could Vivian not fall for him?” “But seriously, Vivian has really changed for you these past three years. I heard even your notoriously difficult mother has warmed up to her. At this rate, you two should be getting married soon, right?” After the question, there was silence for a few seconds before Ethan’s hesitant voice came through. “About marriage… we’ll see.” “What, you’re having second thoughts? Don’t want Vivian anymore?” “It’s not that. I still love her, but…” Ethan paused, his tone complicated. “She’s become a bit too docile, too… boring now.” “Boring?” “Now she cooks for me and hides her burned hands so I won’t notice. My mom deliberately tests her patience, and even when her knees get injured from standing too long, she never complains to me.” I stood frozen. To spare him guilt and heartache, I’d never shown him those repeatedly burned hands or injured knees. I’d never uttered a single complaint. I thought I’d hidden it all so well. But in reality, he knew everything? “Isn’t that good though? She does all this for you. It shows she’s completely devoted to you.” “I know she does it all for me.” Ethan frowned. “But the old Vivian would’ve turned the entire Shaw family upside down. She never would’ve accepted this kind of treatment.” I heard Ethan say slowly, “Compared to who she is now, I loved the old her better. Vibrant and eye catching, bold and radiant. Now she’s so quiet and obedient that I find her…boring.” As those words fell, not only did the people in the office freeze, but my blood seemed to freeze too. Boring. He knew I’d changed my bold, spoiled nature and endured all the humiliation for him. But he said this version of me made him feel… bored? “I heard you’ve been getting pretty close to that Fiona girl these past two months?” Ethan neither confirmed nor denied it, but his voice held a hint of interest. “Fiona’s quite… interesting. At the horse track, she dared to bet recklessly against me to win first place. For a Monet painting, she fought me tooth and nail. Watching her reminds me of the old Vivian.” “Vivian can’t stand even a grain of sand in her eye. If you get too close to another woman, watch out. She might dump you in anger.” “She won’t.” Ethan said with confident certainty, “She knows she’s not the Miss Hayes she used to be. She has nothing left except me. Without me, she’d be even less than nothing.” Just then, Ethan’s phone rang. “Gotta go. Fiona invited me sailing tonight. It’s about time.” I heard chairs scraping inside. I instinctively stepped back, quickly hiding in the shadows around the corner. I watched Ethan walk out of the office with one hand in his pocket, hurrying along while answering his phone, his tone holding an interest and pleasure I hadn’t heard in a long time. “Got it, Miss Fiona. I’ll be right there. I promise you’ll have a great time tonight.”

Vivian POV I don’t know how I left. When I came to my senses, I was standing by the shore. Not far away, on the deck of a speedboat at the harbor, stood two familiar, striking figures. The woman wore a fire-red halter dress, her arms intimately wrapped around the man’s neck, practically hanging off him. The man stood tall with sharp features, wearing a dark shirt, one hand loosely around her waist as he looked down, teasing her about something. That man. Who else could it be but Ethan? And the woman in the red dress in his arms… Even from a distance, I could never mistake her. It was Fiona. I stood there frozen, my mind drifting back to three years ago when I was forced to move into that old building. Fiona had brought several socialites to find me and pressed me hard against the filthy ground. Fiona crouched beside me, slapping my face until it swelled red, saying with smug superiority, “Vivian Hayes, bet you never saw this coming. Now it’s your turn to fall.” “In the past, you were so high and mighty. No matter how much I flattered and fawned over you, you looked down on me and gave me attitude. Did you ever think you’d have a day when I’d be stepping on you?” “Looking at you now really makes me feel good.” That was when Ethan found me. Seeing me humiliated by Fiona and the others, his eyes looked murderous, as if he wanted to tear them apart. After driving Fiona and her group away, he pulled me up and held me tight, saying over and over, “I’m sorry. I came too late.” My phone suddenly buzzed with a message notification, interrupting my memories. I took it out. On the screen was a message from Ethan: “Vivian, I have an important business dinner tonight with some overseas clients. Don’t wait up. Get some rest.” I stared at those words, then looked up toward the speedboat. Ethan tossed his phone onto the cushions beside him, then lowered his head and kissed Fiona as she tilted her face up. The scene pierced my chest like a sharp blade. Three years ago, after Ethan drove Fiona away and took me from that old building, I saw him as my salvation, the only plank of wood to cling to while drowning. But now, that plank had grown thorns, tearing me bloody. The hand that once pulled me from the mire was now personally pushing me into an even deeper abyss. Why, Ethan? Why did your affair have to be with Fiona, of all people? After returning to the Bayshore villa, I found a baseball bat and, filled with rage and pain, destroyed the entire living room. The next day when Ethan came home, this was the scene that greeted him. All the vases were shattered into countless pieces, lamps toppled over, cups, plates, fruit bowls, magazines, and flowers scattered across the floor. The entire living room had become a wasteland overnight, so chaotic there was barely room to step. And I lay motionless on the couch in the ruins. Ethan didn’t know what had happened. “Vivian?” Thinking something had happened to me, he rushed over anxiously and worried. I was startled awake. My lashes fluttered as I slowly opened my eyes. “You’re home.” Seeing me open my eyes and wake up, Ethan breathed a sigh of relief. “What happened?” He helped me sit up, crouching in front of me, puzzled. “Why does the house look like this? Did someone break in?” “No.” I said flatly, “I smashed it.” Ethan looked stunned. “…You?” I didn’t answer. My eyes rested on his handsome face. “Why are you only coming home now?” Guilt flashed through his eyes. Ethan tugged at his tie and said, “I drank too much with clients last night, so I crashed at a nearby hotel.” I looked at him and smiled. “Is that so?”

Vivian POV Ethan shifted uncomfortably under my gaze. He took my hand and frowned. “Vivian, what’s wrong with you?” “Let me ask you.” I looked directly into his eyes, not missing any emotion in them. “Were you really at a business dinner with clients last night?” Ethan’s brow furrowed. “What are you implying? You don’t trust me?” I didn’t reveal that I’d seen everything last night. Instead, I said, “I want to trust you, but your assistant said you didn’t have any business dinner last night.” I wanted to give him a chance to confess voluntarily and show remorse. But instead, Ethan’s face darkened instantly. “You went behind my back to ask my assistant about my schedule?” His displeasure stunned me. “Vivian Hayes, we’re not married yet.” His tone carried obvious anger. “You have no right to check my work schedule with my assistant!” Those words drove into my heart like an ice pick. In the three years we’d been together, Ethan had never shown me any displeasure, much less said such hurtful things. My breathing hitched. I dug my fingernails into my palms to steady my trembling voice. “That’s because you lied to me first.” “What did I lie to you about?” Ethan stood up, looking down at me from above. “I did have a business dinner last night. My assistant just didn’t know about it.” “Really? Then who were you dining with?” Ethan pressed his lips into a hard line, his gaze even angrier and darker. Before he could speak, I answered for him. “It was Fiona, wasn’t it?” “How do you know?” Ethan looked stunned and surprised for two seconds, then grew angry at being caught. “Did you have someone follow me?” I pulled my lips into a bitter smile. He continued, “Yes, I was with Fiona last night. But that’s because the Parker family has a project they want to collaborate with us on. She’s the person in charge from their side. There were details we needed to finalize in person, that’s all!” “But you know what she did when I was at my lowest three years ago, how she brought people to humiliate me. And now you’re getting involved with her?” Even if he had fallen for someone else, why did it have to be her? He could like anyone. Why did it have to be the woman who once stepped on me? My eyes gradually reddened. I curved my lips in mockery. “Or have you already forgotten what she did to me three years ago?” Ethan froze for two seconds, looking somewhat uncomfortable and awkward. “What she did three years ago was wrong, but it’s been so long. If I refused to work with the Parker family because of that conflict, my parents would be furious when they found out. They’d accuse us of mixing personal feelings with business.” He paused, then added, “Besides, everyone has a time when they’re young and foolish. Fiona has changed. She’s not like she was three years ago.” Hearing him finish, I could hardly believe my ears. I remembered after he took me in, there was once a man who had business dealings with the Shaw family company. At a banquet, he got handsy with me and made lewd comments, telling me to be with him. That man had his hand chopped off by Ethan in public. Back then, Ethan hadn’t worried about being accused of mixing personal with professional. Looking at this man making excuses with his parents and even defending Fiona, I felt like I was meeting him for the first time. “Besides, my relationship with her is purely professional. Nothing more.” Ethan looked at me, his features colder and more displeased. “Vivian, why are you being so paranoid now? Can’t you learn from those sensible, generous wives and not be suspicious about everything?” Learn from those sensible, generous wives. Be more understanding. I suddenly wanted to laugh, but my throat was too choked to make a sound. I looked at the collar of his shirt. I could clearly see, near his collarbone, an intimate hickey mark, faint but visible. That mark was vivid and glaring, like a silent mockery. A chill spread from deep in my heart to all my limbs. My heart twisted so painfully I could barely breathe. I thought again of every word he’d said in that office. So this was the result of abandoning my pride, smoothing my edges, and begging for three years. But Ethan, did you really think I couldn’t live without you?

Vivian POV I looked at Ethan. After a moment, I nodded. “Fine.” With that, I stood up and walked past him and the mess on the floor toward the stairs without another word. “Vivian…” He instinctively moved to follow. Just then, his phone rang in his pocket. Ethan paused, pulling out his phone. He frowned, staring at the caller ID, then looked up toward the stairs. After two seconds of hesitation, he answered the call. “Hello?” On the other end, Fiona’s soft, slightly petulant voice came through. “Mr. Shaw, why’d you leave in such a hurry? You forgot your watch at my place. Should I bring it to you?” Ethan froze, looking at his bare wrist, his brow furrowing. “No need. I’ll come get it myself.” Upstairs in the master bedroom. I watched him leave and let out a cold laugh. I closed the door, walked to the bedside, and opened the hidden safe embedded in the wall, taking out what was inside. Ethan knew about this safe and knew the password was my birthday. But he thought it only contained my documents and some of my parents’ belongings, so he never asked about it and never opened it. What he didn’t know was that besides those items, the safe also held an overseas trust fund agreement. This was a trust fund my parents had set up for me abroad before they died. Even when the Hayes family went bankrupt three years ago, this asset wasn’t affected by the liquidation. This was the safety net my parents left me. I held that agreement, my mind replaying my mother’s earnest words before she passed. “Vivian, remember this: no matter how much you love someone in the future, never give yourself completely… The human heart is the most unreliable thing, especially a man’s heart. Sooner or later, it will always change.” I used to think loving someone meant giving everything without reservation. Only today did I understand. Mother was right. I squeezed my eyes shut hard, pushing all my thoughts and rising bitterness back down into my heart. Perhaps it was time for me to leave. When I came downstairs again, the living room had been completely restored. The maids Ethan arranged were cleaning, and new vases and furniture were being brought in piece by piece, but he himself was nowhere to be seen. I didn’t ask the maids anything and left the villa directly. “Hello, I’d like to process immigration paperwork.” At the immigration office, I submitted all my documents. After processing everything, the staff member said, “Your application has been submitted. You’ll be notified of the results within twenty business days.” “Thank you.” After leaving the immigration office building, it was already dark. The streets were lit with colorful neon lights. I had no desire to return to Bayshore, so I took out my phone and called a few old friends. They were incredulous when they received my call. “Vivian?” “It’s me.” I curved my lips slightly. “Call the gang together. My treat. Let’s all cut loose tonight.” “Wow, is the sun rising in the west? Ever since you got together with Ethan, you said you wanted to be a good woman and never go out partying again, didn’t you?” “Cut the crap. See you at the usual place.” I had only dulled all my edges for Ethan, learning to be dignified, learning to be docile, learning to be submissive, becoming what the Shaw family expected. And yet he said I was boring and went chasing after another vibrant, bold shadow. Now that I’d decided to give up on him, there was no need to please anyone for his sake anymore. Two hours later, in a VIP room at the club. Just as the atmosphere in the room reached its peak. BANG. The door was kicked open from outside. The room instantly fell silent. Everyone looked toward the door in shock. “E-Ethan?” There stood Ethan’s tall figure, his handsome face so dark it could drip water. His gaze swept the room and finally locked onto me, surrounded by several male models. His eyes looked murderous. “Vivian Hayes, you actually dare come here looking for men? What the hell are you doing?”

Vivian POV Before anyone could react, Ethan strode into the room with a chilling aura and yanked me up from among the male models. I glared at him furiously. “What are you doing? Let go!” Ethan ignored me, his gaze sweeping over everyone in the room. “All of you, get out.” His tone was cold and commanding, brooking no argument. No one dared say a word. They scrambled out of the room. In seconds, only the two of us remained. I angrily shook off his hand. “Ethan, what do you want?” Ethan looked down at me, suddenly pulling his lips into a smile that wasn’t quite a smile. “What do I want?” He repeated, “Because you’re upset about my business with the Parker family, you dare come to a place like this looking for male models? Vivian Hayes, where did all that obedience and propriety you learned over three years go?” I was fine until he brought it up. Mentioning it made a fire surge up from my heart, burning through all my organs. I laughed coldly, looking him straight in the eye and throwing his own words back at him. “Ethan, we’re not married yet. I can do whatever I want. You have no right to control me.” Those words completely ignited Ethan’s suppressed fury. “I have no right?” He laughed in anger, suddenly pressing me into the wide leather couch behind me. I was caught off guard, my back hitting the soft leather. Before I could react, his body was already bearing down on me, trapping me firmly between the couch and his chest. “What are you doing?” I struggled violently, pushing and kicking him with everything I had. “Get off me!” Ethan easily restrained my flailing hands with one hand, pinning them above my head. “Looks like I’ve been too busy lately and haven’t satisfied you properly, which is why you got the idea to go looking for other men.” “You bastard! Let go!” My angry curses were silenced by his lips. The kiss was punishing, brutal, with no tenderness whatsoever. I desperately turned my head to dodge, but he gripped my jaw firmly with his other hand, immobilizing me. In the chaos, I heard the crisp sound of a metal buckle being undone. My pupils contracted sharply as an ominous premonition rose in my heart. “Ethan, you wouldn’t dare!” “Watch me.” He was breathing hard, his eyes completely red. “Since you don’t remember the rules, I’ll remind you right now what happens when you go looking for other men.” Before he finished speaking, he pressed down hard. I instantly tensed my entire body, every sound stuck in my throat, the pain making my vision go black. Pure possession and punishment. I felt utterly humiliated. “Bastard… you bastard! Ethan, let me go! I’ll kill you!” With my limbs pinned down, I cried out, tears rolling down uncontrollably. But my struggles and curses only earned me rougher treatment. I don’t know how long it lasted. It felt like an entire century. Finally, it stopped. Ethan leaned down and bit my earlobe. “Remember this feeling. Will you dare again?” I lay limp on the couch, my eyes red and swollen from crying. He reached up to brush the hair from my face, his tone softening slightly. “Vivian, don’t blame me. I just love you too much. Seeing you with other men drives me crazy. So don’t try to provoke me like this again, okay?” I was actually amused by his shameless words. I opened my mouth, about to speak. Just then, panicked shouts came faintly from outside. “Fire! The room next door is on fire!” “Run!” “There’s someone still inside… it’s Miss Parker! Miss Parker is still in there!” The man who had been lying on top of me murmuring sweet words suddenly stiffened. “Vivian, I have an emergency. I need to leave for a bit. Wait here for me. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back!”

Vivian POV Before he finished speaking, Ethan’s figure had already rushed out. The door was pushed open then slammed shut. I raised my hand to wipe my face, forcibly pushing down all the bitterness and grievance. I tried hard to calm my emotions, telling myself it was just like being bitten. Then, having barely managed to make myself presentable, a burning smell grew stronger and stronger in my nostrils. Realizing something, my face changed drastically. I jerked my head up. Thick smoke was seeping continuously under the door. My heart tightened. I could no longer care about my body’s pain and stumbled toward the door, yanking it open. But the scene outside made my face go white with terror. The hallway was already a sea of flames. Heat waves and thick black smoke hit me in the face, making me cough violently and tears stream down. “Cough cough… help! Is anyone there… cough cough cough!” I covered my nose and mouth, calling for help. Through the rolling smoke and flames, I caught sight of a familiar tall figure at the end of the hallway. Like grasping at a lifeline, I instinctively called out to that retreating back. “Ethan… Ethan! Save…” Before I could finish, I saw more clearly. He was carrying a woman in his arms. That woman. Who else could it be but Fiona? And Ethan, holding Fiona, disappeared at the end of the hallway through the flames and smoke without looking back. I froze, suddenly feeling cold from head to toe. I could hardly believe that the man who had just been on top of me taking everything he wanted was now carrying another woman away, forgetting me completely. This was what he called loving me too much? How ironic. How laughable. I wanted to laugh but couldn’t make a sound. The instinct to survive took over everything else. I couldn’t die here. Absolutely not! I quickly reacted, turned back to find a blanket, soaked it in water and wrapped it around myself. But just as I was about to rush out the door, a burning beam crashed down, hitting me square in the back. I stumbled and fell to the ground. I’d inhaled too much smoke through my nose and mouth, and my consciousness gradually blurred until my vision went completely black. I don’t know how long passed before I opened my eyes again to hear a nurse asking, “You’re awake? How do you feel? Any dizziness or nausea?” My throat was terribly hoarse. “Water…” The nurse quickly poured a cup of warm water and carefully helped me drink a few sips. The warm water soothed my dry, painful throat, easing the discomfort slightly. Just then, my phone on the bedside table rang. I looked at the caller ID, my expression completely blank, picked up the phone, and answered, bringing it to my ear. “Vivian Hayes!” On the other end, Ethan’s angry voice demanded, “Where did you run off to? Why haven’t you come home all night?” I pulled my lips into a faint smile, my voice hoarse. “If I had died in last night’s fire, you probably wouldn’t have known. Whether I come home or not probably doesn’t matter to you anyway, does it?” Ethan paused for two seconds. “What do you mean by that?” I didn’t want to answer him anymore. I simply hung up. Then I looked up at the nurse. “I want to process my discharge.” “Uh, in your condition, it’s better to stay for observation for two more days…” “I’m fine now.” I shook my head, my attitude firm. “Please help me with the paperwork. Thank you.” Ever since my parents died, I’d been especially averse to hospitals because places like this brought back too many painful memories. Besides, my injuries weren’t particularly severe. There was no need to stay hospitalized. The nurse had no choice but to process my discharge. Walking out of the hospital entrance, I was about to hail a cab when a familiar black car screeched to a stop in front of me. Ethan pushed open the car door and pulled me into his arms. His remorseful, guilty voice filled my ear. “Vivian, I’m sorry. I had an emergency last night and had to leave. I only just found out you were trapped in that fire and were rescued by a passerby and sent to the hospital.” Smelling the unfamiliar perfume on him, the scene of him carrying Fiona out of the fire flashed through my mind again. Nausea and coldness rose from the pit of my stomach. “Don’t come near me!” I pushed him away. Ethan looked taken aback, frowning at me. “Vivian, are you mad at me?” I was about to speak.”Stop being angry. Last night was my fault. Let me make it up to you, okay?” He spoke first, trying to placate me. “Didn’t you say you haven’t been horseback riding in a while? Tomorrow I’ll cancel all my work and take you to the stables, okay?”

Vivian POV I thought his words were just empty appeasement, but unexpectedly, the next day Ethan actually cancelled his work, dragged me out, and brought me to the stables. When I walked out of the changing room in riding attire, Ethan was already waiting at the door. He wore a black riding outfit, his posture straight and tall. Seeing me come out, he smiled and was about to step forward to take my hand when an ill-timed female voice rang out. “What a coincidence, Mr. Shaw. You’re here riding too?” Fiona, dressed in red riding attire with her hair pulled high and makeup impeccable, walked toward us. Ethan’s brow furrowed slightly. He instinctively looked at me. When I said nothing, he turned to Fiona. “What are you doing here?” Fiona raised an eyebrow, her red lips curving. “The stables aren’t owned by your family. If you can come here, why can’t I?” Ethan was rendered speechless. He turned to look at me, his tone softening. “Vivian, I know you don’t like her, but the Parker family has an important project in negotiation with us right now. Try not to make a fuss, okay?” I said coolly, “She’s right. The stables aren’t owned by my family. If she wants to come, I have no right to stop her.” Hearing this, Ethan took it as my agreement and didn’t give it another thought. Staff members led over two gentle thoroughbreds. We each mounted and walked along the edge of the track. Just then, the sound of hoofbeats approached from far to near. Fiona rode up on a jet-black stallion, reining in beside Ethan, its tail swishing high. Her face wore a challenging smile. “Ethan, dare to race me? Same rules as always. Loser buys dinner tonight.” That competitive spirit in Ethan instantly ignited. “Why would I be afraid?” He turned to look at me, his tone casual. “Vivian, ride a couple laps by yourself. I’ll race Fiona.” With that, not waiting for my response, he spurred his horse and shot forward. Fiona laughed playfully and urged her horse to follow. The two horses chased each other, one ahead and one behind, on the track. That competitive spirit reminded me of years ago, when Ethan and I were this city’s most notorious rivals. We chased each other just like this, neither giving an inch. Back then, Ethan’s eyes were full of competitive desire, and an intense interest in my bold, radiant demeanor. A desire to conquer. And now, he showed that same interest toward another woman. I suddenly found it all pointless. I rode alone for less than two laps before dismounting, handing the reins to a staff member, and walking to sit under a parasol in the rest area. A server brought lemon water. I’d just taken a sip when a figure in red sat down across from me. “Why is Miss Hayes sitting here all alone?” Fiona looked at me with a smile. “Don’t tell me Ethan ditched you and you’re upset?” I set down my glass and said nothing. Fiona didn’t care. She continued on her own. “Thinking back to how glorious you used to be, Miss Hayes. Who in this city didn’t have to watch your moods? I tried so many times to get close to you, but you wouldn’t even give me a proper glance.” She paused, leaning forward, her eyes filled with undisguised malice. “But what about now? You’re not even worthy of carrying my shoes. You can’t even hold onto your own man. How pathetic. But then again, men all love novelty.” My fingers tightened slightly around the glass. I looked up at her. “Are you done?” Fiona laughed smugly. “You probably don’t know this yet, but Ethan told me that compared to you, I’m the one who makes his heart race now.” I suddenly smiled. “Fiona, do you like relying on imitating others to pick up their leftovers?” Fiona’s expression changed. “What do you mean?” “I remember you weren’t always like this. Not your personality or how you dress.” I smiled but not quite. “You used to never catch Ethan’s eye. Only by imitating the old me did you finally attract his attention. Truly befitting of your lowly origins. Always so unable to rise to the occasion.” “You!” Fiona shot to her feet, humiliation and rage surging in her eyes at being hit where it hurt. “Vivian Hayes! You bitch!” She raised her hand to slap me hard across the face. My eyes turned cold, my movements faster than hers. I caught Fiona’s wrist, used the momentum to stand, and delivered a resounding slap with my other hand. Fiona’s head snapped to the side, a clear handprint quickly appearing on her face. “Vivian Hayes!” An angry shout came from nearby. Ethan had obviously seen what just happened. He strode over, grabbed my arm, and yanked me away. “What are you doing?!” His grip was so strong I stumbled back several steps, then twisted my ankle. Sharp pain shot through it. I sucked in a breath, cold sweat breaking out on my forehead from the pain. But Ethan didn’t even look at me. He walked to Fiona, looked at her swollen cheek, anger flaring up instantly. “Vivian Hayes, have you lost your mind? If you have something to say, can’t you talk it out? Why did you have to hit her?” I was about to explain when Ethan turned to Fiona again. “Come on, I’ll take you to get some ice for your face.” Then he supported Fiona as they left. From beginning to end, he never looked back at me once, never asked if I was okay. I stood alone, waves of pain radiating from my ankle, yet it couldn’t compare to the pain in my heart. I thought I’d already given up on this man, that my heart would hold no more expectations for him. But when he openly protected another woman, my heart still felt like it was being stabbed with needles. Fine. I thought, the more he cares about another woman, the less regret I’ll have when I leave.

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My best friend Thea went missing during an undercover operation abroad. I submitted a request to the organization to go in as her backup. When I found her, she was being tortured at a reservoir, barely recognizable. But thankfully, she hadn’t cracked—hadn’t exposed her identity. She’d survived. Over the next few years, the two of us became mistresses to two leaders of the criminal organization. We coordinated seamlessly, working our way closer to the core. Finally, on Thea’s 29th birthday, we took them all down and completed the mission! Looking at the ticket home in my hands, I broke down crying right there, unable to control myself. “Thea, this nightmare is finally over. We can go home!” I was about to take out the birthday present I’d prepared for her when Thea suddenly sighed. “Yeah, we haven’t been back in so long. I wonder if that persimmon tree at home is still there.” Her expression was wistful, but I stared at her in shock, my heart suddenly gripped with fear. Both our parents had been killed by drug dealers. Before we even entered the police academy, we knew we’d one day have to face these criminals head-on. Thea had pointed at that persimmon tree and made a pact with me: “Our parents’ ashes are buried beneath it. It’s not a persimmon tree—it’s a Tree of Vengeance. If one of us ever gets compromised, we’ll find a way to send out the code word ‘persimmon tree.’” “It means: I’ve been exposed. Don’t believe a single word I say.” Now, when she was clearly safe, she’d just said those words right in front of me. She absolutely wasn’t my Thea! So where was my real Thea? Who was this person I’d been working with undercover for years, licking blood off knife-edges, fighting with nothing but conviction and our lives on the line?

Sensing something was wrong, Thea tensed up and grabbed both my arms. “What’s wrong, Hernandez?” “Has all the stress been too much? Is that old condition you recovered from flaring up again?” Seeing the genuine concern in her eyes, I relaxed slightly. My parents and Thea’s parents had been colleagues. Years ago, during a mission, they were brutally murdered by drug dealers. After that, I couldn’t sleep for years and developed severe mental illness. Fortunately, I still had Thea to rely on. With her help, I gradually recovered. Only Thea knew about this. And I’d already carved Thea’s appearance into my mind. The person before me looked identical to my Thea—even the beauty mark by her mouth was exactly the same shape. I figured she must have been so excited about completing the mission that she’d momentarily forgotten our pact. I tested her carefully. “I’m fine. It’s just when you suddenly mentioned that tree at home, I felt guilty.” “During the time you were missing, someone broke into our house for revenge and set it on fire. I was too busy preparing for my undercover work and didn’t notice in time. That tree burned down.” Her eyes went wide. “Burned down? But our parents’ ashes were buried under that tree! Hernandez, did you at least save the ashes?” The matter of the ashes was even more private. Besides Thea and me, not a single other person in the world knew about it. I finally felt completely reassured. I was about to admit I’d been testing her when Thea rubbed her reddened eyes. “I’ll never get to eat the fruit from that persimmon tree again.” “But Hernandez, don’t feel guilty. We destroyed the drug trafficking syndicate and avenged our parents. Their spirits will only feel comforted.” The next second, the words I was about to speak lodged in my throat like a stone! She’d said “persimmon tree” again! If she’d simply forgotten our pact earlier, surely she’d have remembered by now. This was a pact she herself had spoken on the day before we entered the police academy. She’d called the persimmon tree the Tree of Vengeance to remind herself never to forget the hatred of our parents’ murder. No matter how hard, how difficult, how frightening—she had to stay firm in her conviction to fight the drug dealers. We’d branded the “Tree of Vengeance” into our very souls! “Yeah, Thea, they’ll definitely be comforted.” “We got our revenge and completed the mission. That’s the best birthday present for you.” I calmly stepped back from her and took out the gift I’d prepared—a snow globe with six cartoon figures inside, four adults and two children, depicting a scene from my childhood memories of our two families having dinner together. Then suddenly, I “accidentally” dropped the gift on the ground. It shattered. “Oh—” I cried out, “Sorry, Thea! I’ll get you another one!” She said it was fine, told me to just get her a replacement after we got home. I insisted on staying to replace it, saying it would already be the next day by the time we landed. I needed to find her on Thea’s actual birthday, whether she was dead or alive.

The custom snow globe would take time to make, so Thea took me to an arcade. She knew what I liked to do to relax, and even knew which games I was good at and which characters I preferred. She bought me ice cream, thoughtfully removing the chocolate coating just like she used to, then gathering the crumbs together and eating them all at once with her eyes closed in bliss. Aside from the “persimmon tree,” I couldn’t detect anything unusual about her. “Hernandez, the last time I celebrated my birthday with you was five years ago, wasn’t it?” During dinner, before I could even probe, Thea brought up the past on her own. “I secretly applied for the undercover operation without telling you. When you found out, you knocked the cake over and cried and yelled at me.” “Do you remember? I stayed up all night trying to comfort you.” She looked at me with a smile, her eyes full of reminiscence. I remembered. We’d agreed that I would be the one to go undercover. Thea had agreed verbally, but then behind my back she’d fought for the assignment. She’d wanted to sacrifice herself to protect me. In front of me, she was always the image of a strong, optimistic, responsible big sister. But was that real Thea still there? Was she still alive? I dug my nails into my palm and went along with her words. “Of course I remember. We’re police officers, but you coaxed me like I was a child.” “I was so frantic I wanted to call Director Alexander and beg him to give me the mission instead. What did you do?” She laughed even harder. “I confiscated your phone and locked you in your room. By the time you got out, I was already on the plane heading abroad.” I wanted to laugh along with her, but I couldn’t make myself do it. Director Alexander and several colleagues knew that I’d cried and yelled at Thea on her birthday. But her locking me in the room afterward—that was something she absolutely couldn’t have told anyone else. Yet she’d recounted it with perfect clarity, down to every detail. How did she know all this so clearly? In the silence, Thea suddenly stood up and called out softly: “Before, you were so focused on the mission that I could overlook you not paying attention to your appearance. But now the mission’s complete and you need to think about your future. How can you still be so careless?” As she spoke, Thea pulled out a tissue and wiped away food residue from my mouth. She gently brushed a few strands of my hair behind my ear. Her reproachful tone, the gentle tickle of her fingers brushing my skin—it was all so familiar, so long-missed. It made me doubt myself again. Was I just being paranoid? Just then, the final dessert arrived at our table—persimmon cake. I’d ordered it on purpose. I stared intently at her reaction. I saw her freeze for a moment, then suddenly her eyes reddened. “My parents’ favorite fruit was persimmon.” “Hernandez, if that persimmon tree at home were still there, do you think in the afterlife they could eat the persimmons that fall to the ground?” The warmth I’d been feeling instantly vanished. I snapped back to clarity. She’d mentioned the persimmon tree again. She absolutely couldn’t be the real Thea! I wanted to restrain her immediately, contact my colleagues who were still in the country wrapping things up, and force her to reveal her true identity! But I didn’t dare. If my real Thea was still alive, I was afraid that alerting them would get her killed. I could only force out a smile and stabilize the situation first, then find a way to discover Thea’s whereabouts.

But I couldn’t figure out when she’d started impersonating Thea. Three years ago, Thea went missing. Of the four undercover agents the organization had planted in the drug trafficking syndicate, all died except Thea. At that time, everyone thought Thea must have met with disaster too. Without hesitation, I applied to become the new undercover agent. Three months later, following the organization’s arrangements, I connected with one of the leaders and made contact with the criminal organization. That’s when I saw Thea. She was tied up in a water dungeon. You could tell it was her, but her body was rotting beyond recognition. The leader smiled and told me, “We probably made a mistake. The boss suspected she was a cop, but no cop could last six months with us without talking.” Besides fear, I didn’t dare show any other emotion. In that brief glance, our eyes met for just a moment. She was in terrible pain, but her eyes were bright and resilient. She mouthed the words: “Tree of Vengeance.” In that instant, I nearly broke down in tears. She’d withstood torture we thought no one could endure. I was certain that Thea at that time was still Thea. Later she was released. One of the leaders was a pervert who liked Thea’s scars and kept her by his side. The two of us exchanged information through our unspoken understanding and formulated plans. Not only did she never betray me, she saved my life several times. So the Thea during that period should have been the real Thea too, right? When exactly did she get replaced? I wracked my brain but couldn’t find any leads. “Hernandez, your custom snow globe should be ready soon.” “Let’s book the earliest flight and go home as soon as we pick it up.” The Thea before me suggested going home again, and this time I had no reason to delay. I could only make an excuse about having a stomachache, asking her to wait while I went to the bathroom alone. Then I had my colleagues send me all the communication records between Thea and me during our undercover operation. We’d pretended not to know each other. All our communications used coded symbols, exchanging information under a safe, inconspicuous tree. Now all this information had been preserved. I needed to read it word by word, looking for any trace of inconsistency in phrasing or other details to determine when Thea had been replaced. But I read through it again and again—the Thea outside was getting impatient—and I found nothing unusual. “Hernandez, if your stomach really hurts that bad, I’m going to get you medicine!” “If we delay any longer, we’ll miss tonight’s flight.” Her urging voice came again. A chill ran through me as I suddenly realized an overlooked problem. What was the point of her impersonating Thea?

If she was an imposter who wanted to know about my past with Thea and all those details, she would have to control Thea and extract that information from her. But if she’d already controlled Thea, why would she let the entire criminal organization get taken down? And now, instead of running away, she was actively returning to the country. The security situation there would be exponentially more dangerous for her! “Hey! Do you really not need help? Don’t be like Neves and pass out from dehydration in the bathroom!” She knocked on the door anxiously, sounding worried I might have an accident. I quickly called back, “Almost done.” In that moment, my doubts deepened. If she was an imposter trying to fool me, knowing some things about my past would be enough. Why would she also remember something as trivial as our colleague Neves fainting in the bathroom six years ago? Even under torture, no one would ask about something like that. And besides, Thea could withstand torture. Her conviction would never allow her to bow to drug dealers! I walked out with my doubts. She immediately hugged me and checked my body. I couldn’t detect even a hint of false pretense. Could it be that the long-term pressure and mental torment had caused Thea to forget the “persimmon tree” pact? I couldn’t find any other explanation. This was the only possibility. “Thea, let’s go to the hospital.” “My stomach really hurts—” Before I could finish, Thea scooped me up in her arms. “Waiter, where’s the nearest hospital?” She urgently carried me to a taxi, her eyes red as she said I’d lost weight, that five years ago when I was shot during a drug bust and she rushed me to the hospital, I’d weighed much more than now. I closed my eyes and forced the tears back, unable to say another word. I was starting to believe she really was Thea. I went to the hospital to buy time so my colleagues could take her hair for a DNA test. If she was the real Thea, we’d go home. If she was fake, we’d restrain and interrogate her immediately. Even if it meant alerting them, I had no choice. She was performing perfectly—I couldn’t find a single flaw, and I had no way to discover Thea’s whereabouts. I successfully obtained strands of her hair and passed them to my colleague. The 20 hours waiting for results felt like years, leaving me on edge. “Thea checks out. DNA test results are normal…” The moment I received my colleague’s message, I couldn’t control myself and rushed over to hug Thea tightly. “My symptoms are much better, Thea. Let’s go home!” “Let’s go home!” She was happy too and immediately took out her phone to book tickets. On the way to the airport, we excitedly planned where to go after returning home, deciding to visit all the places we’d wanted to go but couldn’t afford before. This joy felt like going from hell to heaven in an instant. Thea being safe meant everything to me! “Oh, right—” When we reached the airport, Thea seemed to suddenly remember something. “We don’t have any savings, and the bureau’s bonus still needs approval. We don’t really have money to travel everywhere, do we?” “Why don’t we dig up the assets our parents left us first? We agreed that once we avenged them, we could use that money.” My steps suddenly stopped. “What assets?” Thea smiled naturally. “What other assets could there be? Have you forgotten? The ones we buried under the Tree of Vengeance!”

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The night before the school’s coming-of-age ceremony, my girlfriend Rachel brought the class’s scholarship student to find me, immediately demanding that I give my custom-made suit to the scholarship student. She said, “Ulysses comes from a poor family and can’t afford a suit, and you don’t lack one piece of clothing. Oh, and the shoes and watch—you need to give those too.” I laughed in anger. “Just because he’s poor, I have to support him? So when he gets married and has kids, do I have to help with that too?” Ulysses’ face darkened. Rachel flew into a rage, insisting I must have the clothes, watch, and shoes ready by tomorrow, or she’d cancel our engagement. I fell silent, then turned to call my grandfather. The engagement needed to be cancelled, but I would be the one to cancel it first. “You want to cancel the engagement? Why?” Grandfather asked me. “Because we’re not compatible. Rachel and I grew up together, and I thought I understood her well, but I’ve recently discovered I don’t know her as much as I thought.” Grandfather on the other end of the line was silent for a moment, then said, “Alright, let’s arrange a time for both families to have dinner together and clarify the matter of dissolving the engagement.” I agreed and walked into the classroom to study. After evening self-study ended, many classmates were clamoring that tomorrow’s coming-of-age ceremony called for celebrating hard at a bar tonight. The teacher didn’t stop them either! “You all go ahead. Ulysses is in a bad mood, so I’ll keep him company.” My childhood friend Rachel’s single sentence dropped the classroom’s lively atmosphere to freezing point. Everyone looked at me, including the teacher. They all knew Rachel and I had grown up together and were engaged. I looked at Rachel, my eyes involuntarily stinging. Twenty years—she had left an indelible mark on my heart, yet in hers, I apparently couldn’t even compare to Ulysses, whom she’d only known for a year. “Rachel, the atmosphere is so good, don’t be a buzzkill,” a classmate tried to persuade. “And Emmanuel…” “Don’t mention him!” Rachel’s face suddenly turned cold. “If he hadn’t deliberately humiliated Ulysses just now, Ulysses wouldn’t be in a bad mood.” With those words, the few classmates who wanted to speak up didn’t dare say anything more. Ulysses looked at me provocatively and patted Rachel’s hand. “Rachel, you go ahead. I’ll be fine.” After speaking, he deliberately put on a dejected expression. Rachel immediately hugged his arm with heartache. “Don’t say anymore. I’ll stay with you all night.” Hearing this, my face changed drastically. Stay with Ulysses—for the whole night! At this moment, I felt both heartbroken and furious. I wanted to loudly question Rachel about whether she still remembered I was her fiancé, bound to her by engagement. Seeing my poor expression, the surrounding classmates quickly tried to smooth things over. “Rachel’s just joking. How could she stay with Ulysses all night?” “Yeah, everyone in the whole school knows Rachel and you grew up together and are engaged. We’re all waiting to attend your wedding.” “I’ll definitely give you a big gift when the time comes.” Rachel said coolly, “Sorry to disappoint everyone. Our wedding may not happen.” After speaking, she walked away with Ulysses’ arm in hers. After two steps, she turned back to me. “I’ve given you a chance. Whether you can seize it is up to you.” I smiled and nodded. “Don’t worry, I’ve already made my decision.” Twenty years, and we’d finally become strangers. “That’s too much.” Classmates expressed their indignation on my behalf. “Yeah, she’s engaged to you. How can she say she’ll stay with Ulysses all night?”

“I’ll go pull her back.” I stopped the classmate who wanted to chase after them and smiled. “Forget it.” There’s a saying—people who don’t love you can’t see your existence. If that’s the case, why should I care? “Let’s go. Today’s on me!” At the bar, the atmosphere was lively. Because Ulysses wasn’t there. During previous class group activities, no one had looked down on him for being a scholarship student. They’d taken him everywhere, but he always said inappropriate things. “A plate of fruit costs a hundred dollars? So expensive. You’re all so rich.” “I’m not rich like you guys to buy gifts, so I can only give verbal blessings. Happy birthday.” “My family is poor. I really envy how you throw away clothes when they get a hole in them.” He always disguised himself as the victim, as if we were flaunting our wealth in front of him. Whenever this happened, Rachel would always stand up to defend him. “What are you thinking about? Sing a song and vent all the frustration you’ve been holding inside.” A classmate shoved a microphone into my hand, got up, and ran to select “Endless Love.” This used to be my favorite song, but not anymore. “Change it. ‘Lonely Boy.’” The classmate paused, then silently changed the song. As soon as the intro started, the private room door was flung open. Rachel walked in with Ulysses. Instantly, the lively atmosphere in the room fell silent. You could hear a pin drop. Rachel acted as if she hadn’t noticed, speaking to herself. “Ulysses persuaded me. I thought about it and realized he was right—I really should come. Plus, I think it’s necessary to let you all see him completely transformed.” Rachel smiled broadly. “So, how is it? Isn’t he handsome?” The room remained silent. I looked at Ulysses, dressed in a full suit, wearing a tie, dress pants, and leather shoes, and was the first to applaud. “He really is handsome!” “At least you have good taste!” Rachel was very satisfied with my perceptiveness. “Actually, Ulysses is very handsome. He just didn’t have money to dress up before. Now looking at him, he’s no worse than any of you.” I smiled. Handsome? Although dressed in designer brands, he looked awkward no matter how you looked at him! People with dark hearts can’t project refinement no matter how they dress. Rachel calling him handsome was just beauty in the eye of the beholder. Rachel scanned Ulysses up and down, touching her chin. “Seems like something’s still missing.” She turned to look at me. “Emmanuel, take off your watch and give it to Ulysses. I won’t ask you to give him clothes—just give him a watch. You can’t object to that, right?” I paused and looked down at my wrist. The watch was old, but I’d always worn it and carefully maintained it. Because it was a gift from Rachel’s father. When Rachel’s father had put it on my wrist, he’d said, “This is the Wilson family’s heirloom token. Now I’m entrusting it to you. From now on, Rachel and the Wilson family are in your hands.” After a long silence, I spoke in a hoarse voice. “Are you sure?” “What’s there to be unsure about? It’s just a watch. Or are you saying you can’t even bear to part with a watch?” Rachel’s tone was dissatisfied. She walked over and forcefully removed the watch. The process was rough. I wanted to stop her several times but held back. “Uncle Peter, don’t blame me. This is Rachel’s decision. She thinks Ulysses deserves this watch more than I do.” Looking at Rachel’s face, I thought silently to myself. Rachel hadn’t expected me to remain silent the entire time. She successfully removed the watch and nodded with satisfaction. “Emmanuel, you’ve finally grown up.” With that, she turned and walked back to Ulysses, gently putting the watch on him with a tender expression, being extremely careful as if afraid of hurting Ulysses even slightly.

My heart stabbed with pain, but I forced myself not to look away and continued watching. Because I needed to learn not to care. After putting on the watch, Rachel happily pulled Ulysses to sing. The two interacted frequently. When singing love songs, they made eye contact, their gazes filled with affection. They sat closer and closer. Ulysses’ hand brazenly wrapped around Rachel’s waist, and he turned to give me a provocative and triumphant look. I remained expressionless and downed a large glass of beer. The party continued until eleven o’clock. Rachel had drunk too much and was squinting, leaning against Ulysses, her arms around his neck, asking him to take her home. Ulysses looked at me with a smile on his lips. “Emmanuel, why don’t you take Rachel home instead?” Before I could speak, Rachel waved her right hand drunkenly. “No, I hate him today. I don’t want him to take me home.” “I want to go to your place. I promised to stay with you all night.” “This…” Ulysses feigned panic and quickly said to me, “Emmanuel, Rachel’s drunk. She’s talking nonsense. Please don’t take it to heart.” I said indifferently, “Since she hates me and insists on staying with you, I’ll leave her to you. Whether you take her home or bring her to your place—whatever you want.” With that, I left without looking back, my eyes already red. On the way home, scenes with Rachel flashed through my mind like a slideshow. We’d grown up together. My world was full of her. From kindergarten to college, I’d always protected her, not letting her suffer any harm. When she was bullied and made to cry by older students in elementary school, I went with red eyes to confront them and even got into a fight. In the end, she received an apology, and although I was bruised and battered, I smiled happily. For her birthday every year, I’d ask my parents to buy all the fireworks in the city and the front page of all the newspapers that day to celebrate for her. When I was sixteen, our families discussed our marriage and established the engagement. I was so happy I didn’t sleep all night. I thought I could walk through life with her like this, grow old together. But everything changed after meeting Ulysses. She stopped acting cute with me. Instead, there was more scolding and shouting. I endured it again and again, for no other reason than because I loved her. But did she love me? Before today, I was certain of the answer—she loved me too. But I discovered I was wrong. She didn’t love me that much. Twenty years of feelings—could they really not compare to three years? The facts proved they couldn’t. The next day, I saw Rachel at the classroom door. Her face was somewhat pale, and she seemed unsteady on her feet. Ulysses beside her was carefully supporting her. I paused, then walked past as if nothing had happened. Rachel stopped me. I said coolly, “What is it?” Rachel didn’t dare look at me, keeping her head down. “Um, last night Ulysses took me home. I was so drunk that I fell asleep as soon as I got there and forgot to call you to let you know I was safe.” “Oh!” I nodded. “Anything else?” As if she hadn’t expected such a calm reaction from me, Rachel frowned. “Don’t you believe me?” “No, I just didn’t sleep well last night and I’m a bit tired.” “Take care of yourself. You can’t drink that much like you did last night.” Rachel reminded me, then hesitated before gently hugging me. “Yesterday was my fault. I shouldn’t have yelled at you or said those things to deliberately make you angry. I apologize.” “Oh, and I have a surprise for you at today’s coming-of-age ceremony.” I smiled. “What a coincidence. I also have a surprise for you.” “Really?” Rachel’s eyes lit up. “We really are in sync, thinking the same thing.”

I smiled and walked toward the classroom. Just before entering, I instinctively looked back to see Ulysses with an ugly expression while Rachel hugged his arm, constantly acting cute. Ha! I sneered and walked into the classroom without looking back. The coming-of-age ceremony started on time. All the students’ parents came. Naturally, my family and Rachel’s family came too. The students went on stage one by one, saying words of gratitude to their parents. When it was Rachel’s turn, she thanked her parents as usual, then knelt on one knee facing me, holding a ring in her hand, and loudly said: “Emmanuel, will you marry me?” The whole venue was shocked! Her parents smiled happily. My parents were also smiling. Only Grandfather Andre remained expressionless. I looked at Ulysses again. He was also smiling broadly, extending his middle finger toward me, his eyes provocative. I smiled and, under everyone’s gaze, walked onto the stage step by step. Rachel looked at me expectantly. I was silent for a moment, then reached out to grab the ring from her hand, turned, and threw it forcefully at Ulysses. Then I loudly said: “I won’t marry Rachel, because she and Ulysses are the real pair. Let’s give them our blessings.” After speaking, I was the first to clap. I turned back to look at Rachel, still kneeling on the ground, and said softly: “Surprise. Do you like it?” The whole venue fell into deathly silence. Her parents’ smiles froze on their faces. My parents looked at me in shock. Grandfather gripped his cane tightly. Rachel’s face first went pale, then flushed red. She stood up abruptly and shouted angrily, “Emmanuel, are you crazy?” “I’m not crazy. I just did something you wanted to do but didn’t dare to.” I looked at Rachel, my eyes calm. I used to think I could never leave her, but only after truly letting go did I realize— There’s never been anyone who truly can’t live without someone else. Everyone has parents, friends, and family. We never live for just one person. “What nonsense are you talking about!” Rachel trembled with anger, pointing at me, her eyes brimming with tears. “I abandoned a woman’s modesty and proposed to you in front of the entire school, and this is how you humiliate me in return.” “Emmanuel, how can you face me? How can you face our twenty years together? How can you face my parents?” By the end, she pointed sharply at her parents below the stage, tears falling like broken kite strings. “Dad, Mom, I’ve embarrassed you.” “Rachel!” Rachel’s mother Russell let out a shrill scream and rushed to the stage to hug Rachel. Rachel’s father Peter’s face was iron-blue as he angrily questioned my parents. “This is your good son?” My parents opened their mouths but couldn’t say a word in rebuttal. I spoke, my voice flat. “Uncle Peter, don’t make things difficult for my parents. They don’t know anything.” “Then it’s you!” Russell held Rachel tightly, turning to look at me. The kindness that used to be in her eyes had completely turned to fury. “What has Rachel done to wrong you that you would subject her to such humiliation?” “The engagement was made by both our families together. If you’ve had a change of heart and fallen for someone else, the families could sit down together and cancel the engagement amicably.” “You and Rachel have twenty years of history together. Is this how you treat her? Humiliating her in front of the entire school?” “She’s a girl! Do you want her to die?” The surrounding classmates who didn’t know the truth also pointed fingers at me. “That’s too much.” “Yeah, if you’ve had a change of heart and want to break the engagement, you can talk about it properly. How can you use such an extreme method?” “Rachel is so pitiful to have fallen for someone like this.”

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I had been in a long-distance relationship with my boyfriend for three years. Every night, he’d video call me and stay on until I fell asleep. All my friends envied me for finding such a thoughtful boyfriend. Until I stumbled upon a post online. [Girls, have you ever tried this? Having sex with him while he’s on a video call with his long-distance girlfriend. The thrill is absolutely incredible~] The comments section was full of people cursing her out, but the blogger seemed proud rather than ashamed, continuing to post updates: [Just now his girlfriend rolled over on the video, scared him so much he almost came, but it made me even more excited!] [Every time he gets his girlfriend to fall asleep, he does it with me again. Right now he’s holding me, his “little wildcat”~] The attached photo showed a man in dim lighting, shirtless, his face unclear. When I saw the red mole on that man’s collarbone, my blood ran cold. It was identical to my boyfriend’s. My hands trembling, I enlarged the photo and discovered that on the man’s nightstand was a picture of me.

“Shiven, I had a nightmare.” I picked up my phone and sent a message to Shiven Smith. After hitting send, I stared at the “sleeping” man on my screen. No reaction. His breathing rate didn’t change even slightly. A minute later, the post’s author updated: [That stupid woman just texted saying she had a nightmare.] [LMAO, her boyfriend is plowing me right now, no time to care about her.] [But on the video, he’s definitely sleeping soundly.] [After all, it’s a looped recording.] I looked at the video again and noticed something off. Every fifteen minutes, the curtain in the lower left corner of the frame would blow up slightly. The arc and time interval were perfectly identical—this was a looped video. I rolled over, deliberately making a lot of noise, and coughed twice. The video remained quiet and still. Only that pre-recorded breathing sound echoed in the room. The blogger updated again: [She just rolled over so loudly, scared the hell out of me. Good thing the video didn’t give it away.] I clicked on the blogger’s profile. It was full of lovey-dovey posts spanning half a year. Six months ago, Shiven said he had to attend a closed training program. In reality, he’d taken her to a beach resort. In the photos, he wore swim trunks, back to the camera, with the blogger’s hand resting on his shoulder. Those swim trunks were ones I’d bought him. There was another photo where the blogger wore black lace lingerie, taking a mirror selfie. The caption read: [He gave it to me. Says he loves the sound of this fabric being torn.] That day was my birthday. He’d given me a set of pure cotton pajamas, saying he was worried I’d catch cold. I looked down at the cotton pajamas I was wearing and felt only mockery. So in his eyes, I only deserved to be wrapped in these prim and proper fabrics. I saved all the blogger’s posts, photos, and videos. Even though my hands were shaking badly, my phone gallery filled with hundreds of screenshots, each one piercing my heart. On the video, “Shiven Smith” continued sleeping peacefully, playing the role of the devoted boyfriend. I took a screenshot of the screen. The image showed his fake sleeping face, with a timestamp showing 3 AM in the corner. I kept my eyes open until dawn broke.

At exactly seven o’clock, the screen flickered and the lighting suddenly brightened. Shiven woke up. He rubbed his eyes, yawned, and leaned close to the camera: “Good morning, baby. Did you sleep well? You said you had a nightmare?” His voice was raspy, his eyes drowsy—his acting was impeccable. I looked at his face and forced out a smile: “Yeah, I dreamed you left me and ran off with another woman.” Shiven’s expression froze for a moment, then he showed a doting smile: “Silly girl, dreams are the opposite of reality. How could I leave you? You’re my life.” The doorbell rang at that moment. I walked to the door with my phone. Through the peephole, I saw a package the delivery person had left on the ground. The sender’s field was blank, with only my name written as the recipient. I opened the delivery bag to find an exquisite pink gift box. Opening the lid, inside lay a set of black lace lingerie. The size was S, while I always wore M. A card fell to the ground. Written on it in delicate handwriting was a sentence: “Shiven says you dress too conservatively. He asked me to pick something nice for you. You’re welcome.” I picked up the card and held up the lingerie, shaking it in front of the video camera: “Shiven, is this a surprise you bought me? Why is the size wrong?” The moment Shiven saw the lingerie clearly, his eyes showed panic. But he quickly composed himself, frowning: “Huh? Why would I buy something so disgusting?” “The seller sent the wrong thing? Or maybe some bored person playing a prank.” “Throw it away. It’s filthy.” I tossed the lingerie back in the box and stared into his eyes: “The card says you think I dress too conservatively.” Shiven’s face darkened: “What are you trying to say? You doubt me?” “I work so hard every day, and at night I still stay on video to help you fall asleep.” “Don’t we have even basic trust between us?” “Can you be more mature? Stop being so paranoid all the time. It’s exhausting for me.” He turned it around on me. He was the one being dirty, yet he blamed me for being suspicious. Every time we’d had arguments before, he’d used this tactic, and I’d always apologized guiltily. But this time, looking at his face, I only felt disgusted. “I’m sorry, maybe I’ve been under too much stress lately.” “I just care about you too much…” I lowered my head. Seeing me back down, Shiven’s tone softened: “Good girl, I care about you too! You don’t need that kind of thing—you’re already beautiful. Throw it away!” Just then, a very soft cat’s meow came through the video, coquettish and gentle. Shiven quickly reached to cover the microphone, but it was too late. “You got a cat?” I asked with feigned curiosity. His eyes darted away as he laughed dryly: “No, it’s probably that stray cat from the neighborhood begging for food again.” “I’m going to go shoo the cat away. Gotta hang up now—I need to get to work soon. Love you.” The video ended and the room returned to silence. I opened that post, and sure enough, the blogger had updated: [Couldn’t help but make a sound just now, so thrilling.] [He got so scared his face turned white. Hung up the video and pinned me to the bed as punishment. Bad boy.] Looking at those words, I threw the delivery box into the trash. I requested annual leave from my company and bought a ticket on the next flight to his city. By evening, I was standing downstairs from the apartment he rented. He paid the rent here with my secondary credit card, saying it was to be closer to the office for overtime. Now it seemed more like it was convenient for secret meetings. I put on sunglasses and a face mask, found a window seat at the café across the street, and sat down. My phone vibrated. Shiven sent a message: [Baby, I have to work overtime tonight, might not be able to video call.] [Be good and go to sleep on your own. Don’t overthink things. Once I finish this project, I’ll come see you.] I replied with [Okay, take care of yourself.] My gaze traveled through the floor-to-ceiling window just in time to see Shiven walking out of the apartment building with his arm around a woman. That woman wore the same outfit I’d seen in the post, with his jacket draped over her. The two kissed at the apartment entrance, Shiven’s hand wandering around her waist. I raised my phone and opened video recording mode.

Zooming in, the woman’s face appeared clearly on screen—it was indeed that blogger. She looked younger than in her photos, her eyes carrying a seductive glint. The two got into a taxi. I immediately hailed a car and followed. The car stopped at the entrance of a high-end Western restaurant. I followed them inside and sat in a corner not far from them, my back to their direction. The waiter handed me a menu. I randomly ordered a dessert and turned on my phone’s recording function. Fortunately, there were plants providing cover, so they didn’t notice me. “Baby, when are you finally going to dump that plain Jane?” The woman’s voice was drawn out, full of coquettish whining. Shiven said: “Dump her? Why would I dump her?” “She comes from a clean background. Both her parents are government officials. She’s perfect to bring home as a trophy wife.” “Plus, her credit card has a high limit. All our current expenses are on her dime, aren’t they?” My heart constricted. So in his mind, I was just a suitable trophy and a walking ATM. The woman whined coquettishly: “Aren’t you afraid she’ll find out? She video calls you to check on you every night.” Shiven laughed lightly: “We’ve been doing this so long and she hasn’t found out. Once we’re married and I give her a kid, she’ll be even less likely to notice!” “With that brain of hers, she believes everything I tell her.” “Besides, I installed surveillance cameras at home. I can monitor her anytime.” “All I have to do is play a pre-recorded sleeping video, and she thinks I’m asleep. Stupid as hell.” So it wasn’t just deception, but omnipresent surveillance and calculation. The woman seemed pleased: “But you called her ‘baby’ today. How are you going to make it up to me?” “You name it. Whatever you want.” “I want that bag.” “Done. I’ll swipe her card, tell her it’s a gift for her.” “Then send her another empty box.” The sound of their low laughter and clinking glasses was particularly grating. I took out my phone and sent a message to a competitor who’d always wanted dirt on Shiven Smith: [I have exclusive dirt on Shiven Smith that will absolutely destroy his reputation. Interested?] They replied instantly: [As long as it’s real, name your price. We need solid proof.] I sent them a small portion of the video and audio I’d just recorded. They sent back a handshake emoji: [Deal. We need you to release it at the most critical moment for maximum impact.] I put away my phone and watched the two finish their meal and walk out of the restaurant hand in hand. Shiven took out his phone and sent me a message: [Baby, just finished work. I’m exhausted. What are you doing? Miss me? Are you home?] I replied with a bedroom selfie I’d taken earlier: [Watching shows at home. You worked hard, get some rest.] Almost simultaneously, that woman’s post updated: [His girlfriend is home alone in her empty room.] [We’re having wild sex outside, right here in the restaurant parking lot. So thrilling. He says I’m a sex goddess, says that woman is like a dead fish, completely boring.] How despicable does someone have to be to say such things? To cry over this kind of scum would be degrading myself. I was going to make him taste what it’s like to be reviled by millions. Back at the hotel, I began organizing all the transfer records and chat logs from the past three years. Every expense, every excuse he’d used to ask for money—I annotated them all clearly. I also had a tech friend do a frame rate analysis of that looped sleep video. The evidence kept piling up. I stared at the computer screen, my eyes ice-cold. Shiven suddenly initiated a video call. I steadied my breathing and answered. On screen was that hypocritical face of his, with the apartment wall as the background. “Baby, next week is our three-year anniversary. I have a surprise for you.” He smiled. “The company got me a diamond ring promotion deal. I want to propose to you during the livestream.” “Millions of people will be watching us. I want to make the whole world envy you.” I looked at him, the corner of my mouth curling into a cold smile: “Sounds great. I’ve prepared a big surprise for you too. I’m sure you’ll love it.”

For this proposal, Shiven had been building momentum for a long time. He posted a long essay on social media, recalling every bit of our three years together. Between the lines, he portrayed himself as a devoted and loyal man. The comment section was full of moved netizens, all saying they believed in love again. [OMG, staying so sweet through three years of long-distance! What kind of fairy tale love is this!] [The guy is so handsome and devoted. The girl must have saved the galaxy in her past life!] [Can’t wait for the livestream proposal. You two better be happy!] Reading those sentences, all I felt was cold mockery. If these people knew the truth, how would they react? Shiven sent me the livestream schedule, everything meticulously planned, even my lines were written out. “Baby, you just need to show up looking beautiful and nod yes.” “I’ve arranged everything else—lights, sound system, flowers. It’ll be perfect.” I glanced at the schedule and casually probed: “I want to see how the VCR turned out first. What if it’s not good and I can’t control my expression during the livestream?” On screen, Shiven’s eyes flickered briefly, then he smiled indulgently: “Silly, if you watch it beforehand, there won’t be any surprise. Don’t worry, I pulled several all-nighters editing this. It’ll definitely move you to tears.” He immediately changed the subject. After hanging up the video, I looked at the darkened screen. A surprise? There would definitely be a surprise, but it would be the one I was giving him. Since you won’t give me the account access, I’ll just take it myself. Last time we met, I saw him log into that account. The first few characters were my name’s initials, followed by a string of numbers. I entered the username and typed in that password. [Incorrect password.] I stared at the screen and tried our birthdays and anniversary dates. None worked. I suddenly remembered a post on that mistress’s profile: [He always remembers my birthday. So touching.] I checked the calendar and changed the last four digits to that woman’s birthday. Enter. [Login successful.] Seeing the backend interface load, I couldn’t help but laugh. Shiven Smith, oh Shiven Smith, you really are devoted. The account password starts with my name but ends with your mistress’s birthday. Just like you as a person—wearing human skin on the surface, but rotten to the core inside. After logging in to the backend, I saw that “touching VCR.” It really was well-edited, full of our photos and videos together. I replaced it with another video I’d prepared. The filename was identical, the duration roughly the same, but the content was worlds apart. Once done, I logged out of the account and cleared all access traces. That woman’s post updated again: [I heard he’s going to propose to that stupid woman.] [But it’s just to make money to support me. That diamond ring brand is paying him a huge promotion fee.] [He says after the proposal, he’ll take me to Europe, using that woman’s money.] I looked at the screen, the anger in my heart burning out, leaving only resolve. Since you want to put on a show, I’ll build you a stage. On the day of the proposal, the venue was filled with flowers. A huge screen stood in the center, and onlookers packed the plaza. Shiven wore a crisp white suit, his hair styled to perfection, the very picture of a refined gentleman. In the backstage dressing room, he adjusted his bow tie in front of the mirror, his face wearing a smug smile. I stood in the corner, watching him take out his phone to video call that woman: “Babe, where are you? Hidden well? Make sure you’re not spotted.” “I’m in the second-floor viewing area. Best view in the house. Waiting to watch you perform like a monkey.” Shiven laughed lewdly: “After the proposal, I’ll come find you at the hotel.” “Let you experience what the groom’s really capable of.” His words and actions were all captured by the dressing room camera. The livestream countdown began. Staff came over to tell me to get ready. I smoothed my skirt and put on a perfect smile. Shiven stood center stage, holding a microphone, gazing tenderly toward the entrance: “Today, I’m going to propose to perhaps the woman I’ll love most in this lifetime.” “Three years of long-distance, over a thousand days and nights, we’ve finally made it to today.” Thunderous applause erupted below. Livestream comments flooded the screen, and the viewership shot to the top of the charts. I walked toward him step by step. He knelt on one knee, holding up a diamond ring, his eyes reddening: “Marry me. Let me take care of you for the rest of your life. Will you?” I took the microphone, looked into his eyes, and said softly: “Sure. But before I put on the ring, I’ve also prepared a surprise for you.” “Everyone, please look at the big screen. This is my three-year anniversary gift to you.”

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