Category: English

For five years, Ethan Stone spoiled me, making me the envy of every woman in the city. He remembered I didn’t eat spicy food, that I hated noise, and that I preferred simple, understated white dresses. He even had white noise machines ready in advance, knowing I’d have trouble sleeping on rainy nights. Everyone said he was madly in love with me. Until that night, when I saw a list titled “My Dearest” in his notes app. That’s when I realized I didn’t actually dislike spicy food, and I was never afraid of noise. Every single item on that list, which he had memorized by heart, was about his first love. For five years, he had merely been meticulously carving me into another woman’s image. Now, the dream was over. Mr. Stone, I’m not going to be your stand-in anymore. The auction house glittered with dazzling lights. My eyes were glued to the ruby necklace on stage. It was the main item of the night, and something I’d coveted for a long time. “Fifty million.” Ethan Stone, next to me, raised his paddle, his voice deep and cool. My heart fluttered. I turned to him. “Ethan, are you really buying it for me?” Ethan didn’t even spare me a glance. He stood up and, from the hostess, accepted not the ruby necklace, but a diamond bracelet. I froze. He had just bought that bracelet for sixty million. Ethan casually handed the ornate box containing the diamond bracelet to his assistant behind him. “Deliver this to the Willow Creek Estate immediately.” “She’s a light sleeper. Don’t ring the doorbell. Just give it to the butler.” The assistant nodded respectfully, then quickly left. I watched the assistant’s retreating back, my heart sinking little by little. The Willow Creek Estate. That was where Sophia Grey had been staying since she returned to the country. Ethan finally turned to me, giving me a look. He looked at my plain white evening gown, completely unadorned, and his brows slightly relaxed. “That ruby is too flashy. It doesn’t suit you.” “Don’t you always prefer simple and elegant things?” His tone was matter-of-fact, as if stating an undeniable truth. I opened my mouth, but my throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton. I didn’t like simple things. I loved bold reds, vibrant passion, and anything that sparkled. But five years ago, the first time I stood before him in a red dress, he frowned and said, “Too garish. Change it.” After that, my closet only held black, white, and grey. My jewelry box only contained pearls and thin, plain bands. I thought that was the way he liked me. On the drive home, the silence in the car was suffocating. Ethan leaned back, closing his eyes to rest. Suddenly, his phone automatically connected to the car’s Bluetooth. An obnoxious calendar reminder popped up on the screen. “Thunderstorm tonight. Remember to remind her to drink hot milk and turn on white noise.” My breath hitched. I turned to look out the window, and sure enough, a fine rain had begun to fall. But I was never afraid of thunder. I slept deeper than anyone during rainstorms. I didn’t need white noise at all. Ethan suddenly opened his eyes, quickly dismissing the reminder on the screen. He offered no explanation, merely stating, “Just a work reminder.” I looked at his perfect profile, and suddenly felt incredibly estranged. Was it really just work?

Late at night, Ethan was showering in the bathroom. The water rushed loudly. His phone, resting on the bedside table, lit up with a message notification. Sophia: “Received the bracelet, it’s beautiful. Thank you for remembering I like this style.” I stared at the message and, as if compelled, picked up his phone. The password was his birthday. I had always known that. But I had never checked his phone. Because I trusted him implicitly. Tonight, however, that trust felt like it had been eaten through. I tapped on his notes app. At the very top, there was a pinned folder named “My Dearest.” Inside, there was a long, detailed list. “She doesn’t like bright colors; her clothes should be white.” “Her taste is light; she absolutely can’t touch chili.” “She’s afraid of noise; she dislikes crowded places.” “She’s allergic to seafood; be careful with meals.” “She gets scared during thunderstorms; needs company.” Every single item, every word, felt like a sharp knife stabbing into my eyes. I looked at these “preferences” he held as gospel. I was chilled to the bone, as if plunged into an ice cave. I loved bold reds. I lived for spicy food. My favorite was all kinds of spicy dishes. I loved going to music festivals, loved screaming in the crowd. My favorite food was spicy seafood. I wasn’t allergic at all! For five years, he had strictly followed this list, dictating my life. When I took him to a spicy restaurant, he’d coldly say, “Eating this isn’t healthy. Didn’t you say you disliked it?” When I wanted to go on a beach vacation, he’d say, “The beach is too noisy. Let’s go to a private resort instead.” I thought he was just controlling, just a bit arrogant. For love, I desperately suppressed my true nature to fit his “rules.” Only today did I understand. I wasn’t being cherished. I was just being loved wrong. The person he loved was never me. He was merely carving Sophia’s image onto me, stroke by stroke. The sound of the shower stopped. Ethan walked out, drying his hair. He glanced at the phone in my hand, and his face instantly darkened. “Summer, who gave you permission to touch my phone?” He strode over and snatched the phone away. There was no guilt in his tone, only offended fury. I sat on the edge of the bed, looking up at him. “Ethan Stone, I’m not allergic to seafood.” My voice trembled as I spoke each word. Ethan froze for a moment, then frowned. “What’s gotten into you in the middle of the night?” “Didn’t you break out in a rash last time after that sushi place?” I laughed, tears streaming down my face. “That was from the raw cashew cream at that fancy vegan restaurant you insisted we go to!” “I told you many times, I’m not allergic to seafood. I love spicy food. I love rubies!” Ethan’s gaze turned cold. “Summer Lynn, are you throwing a tantrum over that necklace today?” “It’s just a necklace. Tomorrow I’ll have my assistant buy you ten plain gold chains.” “Don’t make a scene. I’m tired.” He turned, tossed his phone onto the sofa, and got into bed. Leaving me with only his cold back. I looked at his back and suddenly felt a wave of nausea. This was the man I had loved for five years. He didn’t even know what I truly liked. He didn’t even have the desire to understand me.

The next morning, I went to my jewelry design studio. I’m a jewelry designer. But in these five years of marriage, my work had become increasingly scarce, and my style more and more monotonous. All minimalist, simple, lifeless lines. As soon as I walked into the studio, Mia, my assistant, rushed over. “Summer, this is bad!” “Mr. Stone canceled the media pre-interview for the international jewelry exhibition next month!” I stopped abruptly. “Why?” Mia’s face was grim. “Mr. Stone’s secretary called to say you don’t like being in the limelight, don’t like being surrounded by too many people.” “He said such noisy occasions weren’t suitable for you, and asked the organizers to withdraw your name.” I stood there, my fingertips digging deep into my palms. That was the big exhibition I’d been preparing for an entire year! I’d pulled countless all-nighters for this exhibition, designing a collection of colored gemstones. I wanted to use this opportunity to rediscover the radiant person I once was. But Ethan Stone, based on a single line in his notes app — “She’s afraid of noise” — had casually crushed all my hard work. He didn’t just want to control my life; he wanted to strangle my career. Just then, the studio door opened. Ethan walked in. Beside him was Sophia Grey, dressed in a simple white dress, looking delicate and fragile. The atmosphere in the studio instantly dropped to freezing point. Mia and the other employees exchanged glances, not daring to breathe. Ethan surveyed my studio, a slight frown on his face. “Why is this place such a mess?” He turned to Sophia, his voice immediately softening. “Sophia, you’ve just returned. You want to open an art gallery, and I think this location is perfect.” “Summer doesn’t really need this much space anyway. Why don’t we just give half of it to you?” I stared at Ethan in disbelief. This was my studio! It was a place I’d saved up for and bought myself before we got married! How dare he decide, with a single sentence, to give half of it to his first love? Sophia gently tugged on Ethan’s sleeve, smiling graciously. “Ethan, let’s not. Don’t make Summer feel awkward.” As she spoke, she browsed the display cabinets. Suddenly, her gaze stopped at a glass case. Inside was the centerpiece of my recently completed colored gemstone collection — an exaggerated, wildly styled ring set with a top-grade pigeon blood ruby. Sophia’s eyes lit up. “Ethan, this ring is so unique.” Ethan walked over, glanced at it, and his frown deepened. “The color is too intense. It doesn’t suit your delicate style.” Sophia bit her lip, looking a little hurt. “But I really like it.” Ethan turned to me and said in a condescending tone: “Summer, wrap this ring up and give it to Sophia as a welcome-back gift.” “Your overly flamboyant designs don’t sell anyway. You might as well do someone a favor.” I stood there, feeling all the blood rush to my head. “No.” I coldly spat out the single word. Ethan’s face instantly darkened. “Summer, don’t be so petty.” “Sophia isn’t feeling well. Can’t you just indulge her a little?” I walked to the display cabinet and locked the glass cover. “Ethan Stone, this is my passion project. It’s not a prop for you to use to flatter other people.” “Want to give a gift? Go buy one yourself!” Sophia’s eyes instantly welled up, tears streaming down her face. “I’m sorry, Summer. I didn’t know this ring was so important to you.” “Ethan, let’s go. I don’t want it anymore.” Ethan protectively put his arm around Sophia’s shoulder. He turned to me, his eyes filled with utter disgust. “Summer Lynn, why have you become so petty and mean-spirited?” “You truly disappoint me.” With that, he shielded Sophia and walked out of the studio without looking back. I watched their retreating backs and suddenly burst out laughing. Laughing until tears streamed down my face. Petty and mean-spirited? For him, I had turned myself into a soulless puppet. In the end, in his eyes, I was just a jealous woman who wouldn’t even give a ring to his first love.

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Selena, my family’s driver’s daughter, used my identity to online date billionaire Ethan. She messed up and offended him. In a fit of rage, Ethan ruined my family’s company, and my parents ended up in jail. I knelt before him, begging: “That wasn’t me! Selena impersonated me!” He yanked my hair, looking at Selena’s face – almost identical to mine – and sneered, “Still lying?” Selena, of course, had already taken the money and run. I couldn’t bear the crushing blow, so I swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills. In my final blurry moments, the door opened. Selena walked in, wearing my favorite white dress. She pinched my chin, a smirk playing on her lips. “Chloe,” she purred, “I actually messed with him on purpose. So, how’s it feel? Losing your home and family, isn’t it fun?” I stared at her in disbelief. “We look so alike, so why do you get to be the heiress while I’m just the driver’s daughter?” She tilted her head. “Rest easy, now. I’ll gladly take all your bags and shoes. And all that money Ethan gave me? It’ll be enough for me to live lavishly for most of my life.” As I drew my last breath, my heart was consumed by an ocean of hatred. Then, I opened my eyes again. I was back to the day Selena first used my identity to charm Ethan.

The bitter taste of the pills still lingered in my mouth, and Selena’s cruel words – isn’t it fun losing your home and family? – echoed in my mind. Before I could fully process it, I heard a ruckus from my closet. Selena stood with her back to me, pulling clothes out of my wardrobe one by one, carelessly tossing them onto the floor. She mumbled, her tone full of disdain, “Ethan loves pink, but why doesn’t she have a single pink dress?” “No wonder, she always acts so low-key. Who’d know she’s Chloe Hayes, the heiress?” My heart clenched. I’d always preferred to stay out of the spotlight and avoided social events, which was exactly how Selena found her opportunity. I moved my head slightly, letting out a faint sound. Selena’s body stiffened, a flicker of guilt flashing in her eyes. “Oh, you’re awake? You scared me!” She turned around, patting her chest, her voice laced with annoyance. “Why didn’t you say anything? You’re like a ghost.” I gazed at her innocent-looking face, remembering the horror of my family’s destruction in the previous life. My eyes burned with fury. Growing up, we shared everything—food, home, school. My mom felt sorry for Selena losing her mother early, so she made sure Selena had everything I did. I treated her like my own sister, always indulging and spoiling her. It was my indulgence that had turned her into an entitled and selfish person. I clenched my fists, my gaze sharp, and spoke coldly, “What are you doing?” Selena froze. She’d never seen me like this. After a moment, she blurted out defensively, “I’m looking for clothes to wear! Ethan’s coming back next week to meet me, and your closet doesn’t have a single suitable outfit. It’s so annoying!” Meet you? I scoffed. Selena, did you really think you’d get to meet Ethan next week in this life? Selena, seeing I wasn’t immediately offering to buy her clothes as usual, pouted. “Forget it, you’re never nice to me anyway. I’ll just go buy some myself.” With that, she casually wadded up my clothes and stuffed them back into the closet. Then, she nonchalantly picked up my perfume from the vanity and sprayed a few times. She acted as if she were the actual heiress of the Hayes family. I slowly stood up and said calmly, “I’ll go with you.” “Huh?” Selena looked surprised, then pushed me back. “No need, you just woke up. Get some more rest; I can go by myself.” I smiled, deliberately asking, “Why? Why can’t I go? Are you hiding something from me?” Selena’s gaze darted away, then she forced a strained smile. “No, of course not. I just don’t want you to get tired.” I put on my jacket and instructed Mr. Peterson, our driver, “Take us to the store Selena usually goes to.” Mr. Peterson nodded and soon dropped us off. The moment Selena walked in, the sales assistant greeted her like a celebrity. “Miss Hayes, you’re here!” The assistant said with an ingratiating smile. “We have some new limited edition items today; I saved the best ones for you.” I stood behind Selena, watching the assistant fawn over her. Miss Hayes? It seemed Selena had been using my identity quite a bit. Out of the corner of my eye, Selena nervously glanced at me, afraid I’d expose her on the spot. One of the sales assistants looked at me and asked curiously, “Miss Hayes, who is this?” Before I could speak, Selena quickly pinched my side, then said rapidly, “This is my driver’s daughter. She’s just with me to see the sights.”

I gasped, the pain almost making me cry out. Hearing Selena’s words, the sales assistants looked at me with a hint of subtle disdain, their attitudes immediately cooling. Selena, afraid I’d say another word, immediately pushed me into a nearby fitting room. She lowered her voice. “Chloe, I’ve always told them I’m the Hayes heiress. Otherwise, they’d treat me like dirt. You wouldn’t want me to be looked down on, would you?” I scoffed. “I’m just borrowing your identity. You never go out anyway, and we look so alike, nobody will ever find out.” Selena intimately linked her arm through mine. “Please? Let’s just pretend we’re playing dress-up today.” I lowered my eyes, concealing the surging anger within. Selena, enjoy your moment for now. After all, the higher you climb, the harder you fall. I smiled. “Okay.” Selena immediately tried on clothes with glee. She finally picked three items, placed them on the counter, and called out without looking back, “Checkout.” Seeing my delay, she turned to look at me, a flash of impatience in her eyes, as if asking, What are you waiting for? Why aren’t you paying? I looked at her and found it almost amusing. A driver’s daughter, in front of strangers, looking at the Hayes heiress as if she were an ATM. I remembered how in my past life, whenever we went out together, I always paid. And she would simply accept it, occasionally saying, “Chloe, you’re the best.” My kindness to her had become a weapon pointed at myself. I hid the mockery in my eyes, raised my hand, and pointed at the high-end, dusty pink gown on the mannequin in the display window. My voice was calm. “Wrap that one up.” Selena’s eyes instantly lit up. She quickly stepped forward and intimately linked her arm through mine. “Chloe, you’re so good to me! But this one isn’t really for me; the color is too deep. Why don’t you buy me a bracelet instead…” I subtly withdrew my arm and slowly said, “This is for me.” Selena’s smile froze. She stared at me in disbelief. The next second, a hint of suspicion flashed in her eyes. “Chloe, why are you suddenly changing your style?” Seeing I didn’t speak, she looked me up and down, her gaze critical. “Chloe, have your tastes gone bad? Pink is too sweet. You’re usually so cool and understated; you can’t pull it off. It’ll just look tacky and awkward on you.” “You don’t even wear makeup. Wearing that with a bare face would look so strange.” I couldn’t be bothered to argue with her. Calmly, I took out my phone and scanned the QR code to pay. Selena’s face completely fell. As if something clicked, she said in a sarcastic tone, “I get it! You heard me say Ethan loves pink, so you’re deliberately buying these dresses to follow suit? You want to steal my thunder, you want to take my place and charm Ethan, don’t you?” The more she spoke, the more convinced she was she was right, her voice filled with accusation. “Chloe, Ethan and I have been talking for so long. Who do you think you are, suddenly showing up? You’re my best friend, how could you do this?” Not far away, a few sales assistants tidying clothes whispered to each other, their eyes openly disdainful of me. “They look so alike… Could she really be trying to steal her boyfriend?” “She’s the Hayes heiress, after all. If a driver’s daughter had such ideas, she wouldn’t know what hit her.” “Exactly. She should look in a mirror. Does she really think looking like Miss Hayes will turn a pauper into a princess?” “Shameless.”

Those words cut me like a knife. Selena heard them too. She didn’t say a word in my defense; instead, the corner of her mouth curved into a pleased smile. I turned to face Selena directly, emphasizing each word: “Miss Hayes, I have no interest in Ethan.” I allowed a slight smile. “My birthday is the day after tomorrow. I’m planning a birthday party and simply picking out a dress I like.” “What?” Her voice suddenly shot up. “A birthday party? When did you say you were having a birthday party? How come I don’t know about it?” I picked up my shopping bag and turned to walk out of the store. Selena, behind me, completely panicked. She knew that if this birthday party happened, all the prominent families would be there, and Ethan would definitely come. Then, Ethan would find out she had lied to him. Thinking of Ethan’s ruthless methods, Selena was instantly terrified. I heard her ragged breathing behind me, and in my peripheral vision, I caught her pale face, a mocking smile playing on my lips. “Chloe,” Selena hurried to catch up. “What’s wrong with you? You never liked these things before. Didn’t you say parties were too much trouble? Didn’t you say you hated socializing? Why suddenly…” I stared at her and slowly said, “Why are you so anxious about me having a party?” Selena instantly stiffened. Seeing my half-smile, a surge of anger rose within her. She stomped her foot, her voice forceful. “No, I don’t agree to you having one.” She took a step forward, grabbing my wrist, and spoke rapidly. “If you suddenly have a birthday party now, they’ll think all your past low-key behavior was an act. You have to understand, everything you do represents the Hayes family’s reputation. Your dad just handed the company over to you to manage; if you’re so high-profile now, you’ll be embarrassing him.” “And, you’ve rejected so many invitations before, saying you dislike socializing. Now you’re suddenly throwing your own party, what will people think? They’ll think you used to look down on them, deliberately put on airs, and now that they’re doing well, you’re trying to butter them up.” “Chloe, I’m doing this for your own good.” I lowered my eyes, looking at her hand gripping my wrist. Her nails were manicured; I had paid for that last month. The ring on her finger was a birthday gift I’d given her last year. The watch on her wrist was a limited edition my mom brought back from Switzerland; she said she liked it, so I took it off and gave it to her. Everything on her, from head to toe, was mine. And she was using this hand, adorned with my possessions, to stop me from reclaiming what was rightfully mine. I scoffed and said calmly, “Oh, but I’ve already sent out the invitations.” “What?” Selena gasped, her voice trembling. “Who did you send them to?” I feigned thoughtfulness. “The Brooks family was the first, and then the Stone family… I’ll help you test Ethan to see if he’s a good match for you. And the Harrison family…” Seeing Selena looking on the verge of collapsing, I directly pulled open the car door and got in. Selena was absent-minded all day. That night, as I lay in bed, I heard a phone conversation coming from the next room. “Baby, I heard you’re having a birthday party. Why didn’t you tell me beforehand?” Selena’s voice was feigned calm. “I thought you’d be back next week anyway, so it wasn’t a big deal. Honey, you don’t need to come.” “How can I not?” Ethan’s tone was serious. “How could I miss your birthday? I’ve already bought my flight ticket. I’ll be there right on time on the day of the party.” Selena’s heart tightened. Just as she was about to try and dissuade him, Ethan hung up. “No,” she murmured to herself. “I can’t just sit here and wait for disaster. This party has to be mine.” I scoffed. Can’t sit here and wait for disaster? I’d like to see what kind of trouble you can stir up.

Three days later, at the birthday party, all the city’s elite had arrived. “Chloe, it’s time to change.” Selena pushed open the door, holding a glass of orange juice. She was wearing a beautiful gown and exquisite makeup, looking even more like the birthday girl than I did. “Drink this, line your stomach. You’ll be busy tonight,” she said, handing me the orange juice. I took it and glanced down. The orange juice looked normal and smelled normal, but I noticed a tiny white particle on the side of the glass that hadn’t fully dissolved. “Thank you,” I said, looking at her and smiling. Then I raised the glass to my lips and took a large sip. Her eyes brightened. With the orange juice in my mouth, I used the pretense of wiping my lips to spit most of it into a tissue. A moment later, Selena leaned in solicitously. “Chloe, what’s wrong? You don’t look well.” I swayed a bit, playing along, and held onto the bedside table. “I feel a little dizzy. Maybe I’ve been too busy today.” “Then lie down for a bit,” she said gently. “The party’s still early. You rest, and I’ll keep an eye on things.” I lay down and closed my eyes. In that instant, I saw Selena flash a triumphant smile. It was identical to the one she’d given me when she squatted in front of me in my previous life. Selena stood by my bed for a moment, seemingly confirming I was really out. Then, she lowered her voice. “Come in.” The door opened, and I heard two sets of footsteps. “Tie her up, gag her, and take her to that abandoned factory on the west side of town. Don’t come back until I call you.” Ropes wrapped around my wrists, duct tape sealed my mouth. I didn’t struggle throughout the entire process. Then, two men carried me out of the bedroom, through the back door, and into a van that drove further and further away. Meanwhile, Selena slowly descended the stairs, a graceful smile on her face. “Happy birthday, Miss Hayes, you look stunning tonight!” “Mr. Hayes, you’re so lucky. I hear your company is running smoothly.” Selena smiled and nodded, graciously accepting all the compliments, comfortably enjoying all the glory that should have been mine. For twenty years, she had meticulously imitated my tone and expressions. Coupled with a face almost identical to mine, no one suspected she was a fraud. “Mr. Stone has arrived!” a voice announced from the entrance. All eyes in the room turned to the door. Ethan stood there, dressed in a black suit, holding a large bouquet of roses. He gazed deeply at Selena, then quickly walked forward and knelt on one knee. A collective gasp rippled through the banquet hall. “Miss Chloe Hayes,” his voice filled with tenderness, “I owe you a formal confession.” He took out a velvet box from his pocket, opened it, revealing a massive pink diamond ring. “Will you be my girlfriend?” The banquet hall was silent for three full seconds. Then, someone started clapping, someone shrieked, and people began chanting, “Say yes! Say yes!” Selena stood there, her heart pounding, a blissful smile on her lips. She took a deep breath and slowly extended her hand. “I…” The next second, the banquet hall doors were kicked open. The entire room fell silent. Everyone turned to look at the entrance. My gaze cut through the crowd, landing directly on Selena. “You’re Miss Chloe Hayes? Then who am I?”

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I’ve been painfully honest and hyper-paranoid about risk since the day I was born. My mom can watch hundreds of millions of dollars evaporate in the stock market in a single day without even blinking. My dad buys luxury high-rises the way normal people buy groceries at the corner store. And Rachel, my sister, started investing her trust fund at the age of three, becoming a ruthless market shark everyone in the business world is terrified of. Then there’s me. I’m the kind of guy who hesitates to pay extra for avocado on a sandwich. I’ve lived this ultra-wealthy life in absolute terror, always feeling like God is going to come knock on my door one day to collect interest on a loan I never asked for. So, on the night of my eighteenth birthday gala, when the real heir showed up at our front door holding a DNA test… I let out a massive sigh of relief. See? I knew it. How could a paranoid, penny-pinching guy like me ever be the actual heir to a massive empire? On the night of the gala, I stood on the stage wearing a custom designer suit worth millions, feeling completely out of place. “Dad, this fabric is itching crazy. Can I please change into something else?” My dad glared at me, his face dark, and waved the makeup artist over to touch up my face. “Arthur, remember. Your most important job tonight is to keep your mouth shut.” I pouted, metaphorically zipping my lips, and stared blankly at the bustling crowd of high-society guests below. “Honey, sometimes I really wonder if Arthur is actually ours,” my mom sighed. Before she could say anything else, the grand heavy doors of the ballroom were slammed open. A boy wearing a faded, washed-out T-shirt marched in. He held a thick manila folder high in the air, his voice echoing through the hall: “Here is the DNA test! I am the real biological son of the Sterling family! You’ve all been fooled by Arthur!” The room fell into dead silence, followed instantly by an explosion of wild whispers. “The real vs. fake heir? I knew coming tonight was a good idea! This is pure drama!” “Honestly, I always thought the Sterlings’ son was weird. He has zero ambition.” “Last time my kid asked him to invest in a tech startup, the guy looked like he was going to cry and pulled a ten-dollar bill out of his pocket! Like, what was that even supposed to do?” Hearing their gossip, I swallowed hard. Yes! Thank God. I knew it. I’m the type of person who needs a whole mental pep talk just to buy a premium sandwich. There was no way in hell I was a billionaire heir. Looking at the boy who just stormed in, I actually felt like walking over, shaking his hand, and thanking him. Before I could move, he pointed a finger at me and shrieked, “Arthur! You didn’t expect this, did you? You didn’t think I’d actually find my way here!” “You knew all along that I was the real Sterling heir! Why did you hide it?” I blinked, totally lost. What kind of fan-fiction plot was he running? I had literally never seen this guy in my life. I opened my mouth, instinctively reaching into my pocket for the little notebook I used to track my daily expenses. But after fumbling around, I realized this fancy suit didn’t have functional pockets, so I hadn’t brought it. Seeing me hesitate, the boy grew even more smug. “My name is Tyler James. But of course, it’ll be Tyler Sterling very soon.” He puffed out his chest, confidently stroking past the guests to stand right next to me, and grabbed my wrist. “Not only did you steal my life, you fake heir, but you even stole the family heirloom bracelet our father left for me!” “You did it on purpose to keep me from finding my real family, didn’t you?” I looked down at the simple metal band on my wrist in confusion, then looked at my dad. The script of this drama felt a bit off. I had been wearing this bracelet for over ten years. It wasn’t some Cartier gold piece; it couldn’t be worth more than a few bucks. “That bracelet is worth a million dollars, Arthur! You couldn’t pay it off even if you worked for the rest of your life!” “If you behave and act like my loyal dog from now on, I might consider letting you off easy.” Tyler James’s eyes were red, looking as if he were the most abused victim in the world. “Are you saying the bracelet on his wrist is yours? And that it’s worth a million dollars?” My dad set his champagne glass down. His voice was quiet. But the entire ballroom instantly fell dead silent. “Yes!” Tyler James threw his head back. “Dad, we caught him red-handed! Throw him out of the house right now!” Every eye in the room landed on me. I clenched my fists. I wanted to defend myself, but I didn’t even know where to start. After what felt like an eternity, my dad spoke. “Impossible.” “If you told me he robbed a bank, I’d believe that before I believed he had the guts to steal from you.”

Tyler James’s face turned pale. “Dad, are you seriously protecting a fake heir?” He collapsed onto his knees, tears streaming down his face. “I was kidnapped and taken to some remote mountain town when I was a kid. I barely escaped my abusive foster parents!” “I came all the way to this big city, only to find out someone else had stolen my life.” “It was you, Arthur! You, the imposter, living like royalty every day! Don’t you feel any guilt?” My face remained blank, but in my head, I was nodding along. Honestly, I had suspected I wasn’t a biological Sterling for a long time. The Sterling family was a dynasty. Everyone was a top-tier elite. My mom was a wall street shark. She could lose hundreds of millions in a day without flinching, casually telling people, “Money comes and goes, but the game is forever.” My dad was the CEO of the Sterling Group. The first thing he did every morning was swipe through his iPad to see which commercial buildings he wanted to buy. And Rachel, my sister, didn’t even need an introduction. She started investing at age three. Last year, she used her allowance to fund a green energy startup and tripled her money in six months. I was the only anomaly. When I was six, my dad gave me a black card. I casually took it to school and used it to play card-flipping games with the neighborhood kids on the dirt. Later, when I found out it had an unlimited credit line that could buy a small country, I immediately returned it to my dad, untouched. When I was eight, I found a penny on the school playground. I stood under the scorching noon sun for an hour waiting for whoever lost it. When no one showed up, I literally walked to the local police station to hand it in. I gave them the exact time, location, and a list of every ant that had crawled past the penny. I knew I didn’t fit in with the Sterling family. Even in high society, whenever people talked about me, they always rolled their eyes. “Arthur? The guy doesn’t even know the difference between a Rolex and a Swatch!” “I saw him at a charity gala once. He was literally counting the zeros on the donation board with his mouth wide open. It was hilarious.” I knew what they whispered. And honestly, I agreed with them. I mean, how could a guy like me ever be a billionaire heir? My dad chuckled, taking a sip of his wine. “Arthur once asked me for ten dollars, and he insisted on writing a formal promissory note for it.” “And you’re saying he stole from you? If you have evidence, call the cops.” He smiled faintly, sitting back down. “But let me remind you, filing a false police report is a felony.” Tyler James’s crying stopped instantly. He wiped his tears and handed the DNA report to my dad. “Maybe… maybe I misremembered the bracelet.” “But the DNA test doesn’t lie.” My mom flipped through the pages carelessly, then pinched the bridge of her nose. She gave the butler a quick nod. Within ten minutes, the entire ballroom was cleared of guests. “Honey,” she said, looking at my dad. “Care to explain where you got this secret love child from?” My dad froze. To prove his innocence, he dragged the entire family to the private hospital for a rush DNA test that very night. While waiting for the results, Tyler James stayed at the Sterling mansion. The next morning, we were all sitting at the long dining table for breakfast. I was carefully arranging my plate—salad, eggs, and toast—in a precise layout. Based on my calculations, eating them in this exact order optimized digestion. No choking, no wasting, and most importantly, no getting sick. That way, I wouldn’t cost the family any medical bills. Just as I took my first bite, Tyler James started his drama again.

He raised his glass of milk like he was making a grand toast and chugged it. Then he stood up. “Everyone, since I am sitting here, it means you’ve already accepted me as a Sterling.” “In that case, there is something I can no longer keep secret.” Tyler James took a deep breath, looking as though he were making a monumental decision. He pointed at Paul, our butler who was serving the dishes, and then glared triumphantly at me. “Paul, I heard you with my own ears today! You said Arthur stole two hundred thousand dollars in cash from the family safe!” “We have a witness! Arthur, what do you have to say for yourself now?” The platter in Paul’s hands almost slipped. He waved his hands in a panic. “I never said such a thing! Sir, where did you hear that…” Tyler James clapped his hands together, his eyes locking onto Paul like a hawk. “I am the real Sterling heir! How dare you still protect this imposter?” “Don’t worry! As long as you tell the truth, I promise I won’t let my parents fire you!” Paul looked like he was about to burst into tears. “I… I was just whispering to myself! I noticed Arthur’s allowance this month was twenty dollars more than last month, and I was just worried he didn’t have enough money for something…” “It was literally twenty dollars! Not two hundred thousand!” Hearing this, I looked up from my plate, staring at Paul in absolute horror. How did he know I had asked for an extra twenty dollars this month? I was planning to use it to buy a luxury triple-cheese sandwich from a food truck before I got kicked out of the Sterling house! Now my secret was out! Tyler James completely misread my expression. He thought I was paralyzed with guilt. “Look at his face! If he didn’t steal two hundred thousand dollars, why is he looking so ashamed that he can’t even lift his head?” Rachel let out a cold sneer. “Tyler, you haven’t even officially joined this family, and you’re already trying to run the household?” “And stop project your own cheap, narrow-minded thoughts onto Arthur.” I nodded in agreement. Exactly. Even though I wasn’t the real heir, I knew which money was mine to take and which wasn’t. “You! Rachel! I know you haven’t accepted me yet…” “You grew up with Arthur, so of course you prefer him.” “But you have to understand, we are the ones who share actual blood!” Tyler James could cry on command. He wrapped his arms around himself, looking tragically lonely. “The path of growth is always lonely, but I am willing to bear this cross.” I blinked, looking around the room. What was going on? Tyler James felt like a total drama queen. He didn’t seem like a Sterling at all. “Enough!” My dad wiped his mouth with a napkin, his voice cold. “Paul, go upstairs and flip Arthur’s mattress.” Paul looked as if he had just been handed a lifeline. He bolted up the stairs. A few minutes later, he returned, holding a small stack of crumpled bills and coins. “There was a total of three hundred and five dollars taped under Arthur’s mattress. Nothing else.” No one at the table looked surprised, except me. My eyes went wide. “Wait… how did you guys know my hiding spot?” And here I thought I was a master of stealth! “You tape money under your mattress?! Are you a squirrel, Arthur?!” Tyler James shrieked, completely unable to believe that my secret stash was only three hundred bucks. “None of your business! That’s emergency money!” My face flushed red as I scrambled to explain. “What if the family goes bankrupt one day?!” “Bankrupt?” My mom almost choked on her water. “Arthur, we have hundreds of billions of dollars!” My dad slammed his fork down, his eyes narrowing as he glared at Tyler James. “Do you see this? His risk awareness is the highest in this entire family. And you think he stole two hundred thousand?” He offered a patronizing, calm smile. “Tyler, until the DNA results are officially back, you are not a Sterling.” “Try slandering Arthur one more time, and see what happens.” Tyler James’s mouth twitched. He wanted to say something, but ultimately shut his mouth in frustration. Just as I thought the storm had passed… My dad’s phone rang. It was the hospital. “Mr. Sterling, your expedited DNA test results are ready.”

As expected, my DNA had absolutely no connection to the Sterling family. Tyler James looked like a victorious rooster, chin held high as he pointed at my nose. “You. Get the hell out of the Sterling mansion.” “And burn everything in his bedroom. I don’t want any of his cheap trash contaminating my house.” “Mom, give me thirty million dollars. I found a killer startup to invest in. Guaranteed thirty percent return.” He threw himself onto the luxury sofa, crossing his legs arrogantly. “Arthur, you owe me eighteen years of luxury living. It’s time to pay it back.” I nodded quietly, pulling out my little notebook from my pocket and flipping to the first page. Thank God I was always prepared. Ever since I learned how to read and write, I had been terrified of this day. So, I had recorded every single cent I spent. “I calculated it. Over the years, I’ve cost the Sterling family a total of one hundred and thirty-one thousand, one hundred and forty dollars. Don’t worry, I will get a job and pay you guys back every single cent.” I nodded, gave them a polite bow, and turned to grab my suitcase. “Hold on!” Tyler James lunged forward and grabbed the handle of my suitcase. “One hundred and thirty thousand? Are you kidding me? The Sterlings are billionaires! Are you trying to scam us?” “I…” Before I could finish, my mom called out, “Arthur, what do you think you’re doing? This house has plenty of bedrooms. We aren’t going to starve just because you’re here.” “Mom…” “Arthur, your mom is right,” my dad added. “Even though your risk paranoia is a bit much, it actually balances out the rest of this family perfectly.” “Dad…” Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked at my parents. My heart felt incredibly warm. “I… I will do my best to keep up with everyone!” And just like that, Tyler James officially moved into the Sterling mansion, legally changing his name to Tyler Sterling. At his official welcome gala, he wore a bespoke tuxedo, walking around the room to schmooze and toast the guests. “Hello, I’m Tyler Sterling. In the future, if you need anything from the Sterling family, just come straight to me.” The guests smiled and raised their glasses. One guy joked, “Well, Tyler, I have a project here that needs a bit of funding. Just two figures. Want to take a look?” Tyler’s eyes lit up. He raised his glass. “Oh? That cheap?” “Bring the contract over. I’ll sign off on it myself!” Standing nearby, I gently tugged on Tyler’s sleeve, signaling him to stop talking. “Two figures” in high society didn’t mean two dollars. It meant two hundred million! Besides, investing in a project required rigorous due diligence. You don’t just sign off on something over a glass of champagne! “Get off me!” Tyler snatched his arm away, shoving me back. “Arthur, you just don’t want me to network with these people, do you?” “Why else would you interrupt when we were having such a great conversation?” My elbow hit the cold marble column, throbbing with pain. Before I could speak, Tyler’s face twisted as if he had just realized something. “Oh, I get it. Are you afraid I’ll tell Dad about you secretly selling off our family heirlooms?” I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. Tyler really was like a dog that couldn’t stop eating trash. Here he was, slandering an honest guy like me again. Does this guy ever learn?

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My destination wedding with Mason was supposed to be a small, intimate getaway with both of our parents. But on the day of our flight, I waited at the airport terminal for what felt like hours. When Mason finally showed up, he brought his childhood best friend, Eve, her parents, and about seven or eight of her extended relatives. Every single one of them held a first-class boarding pass. Except for my parents. I looked at Mason. “Where are my parents’ tickets?” He didn’t even look up as he helped Eve’s mother push her designer suitcase. “We ran out of plane tickets.” “I bought them coach tickets on the Greyhound bus.” A thirty-hour Greyhound bus ride. Followed by a local shuttle, and then a ferry. My dad had just undergone major spinal surgery, and my mom got so motion-sick that even a two-hour car ride made her vomit. My voice shook. “Then why does Eve’s entire family have first-class plane tickets?” Mason frowned, looking annoyed. “Eve’s parents are getting older. They can’t handle a rough journey.” “Besides, her relatives joined us at the last minute. I couldn’t just tell them they couldn’t come.” My phone buzzed right then. It was my mom on Snapchat. Her voice was incredibly tentative, as if she was terrified of causing me any trouble. “Sweetheart, the bus is actually really nice. We’ll get there before you know it.” My throat tightened, but before I could speak, I heard my dad coughing heavily in the background. He tried to muffle the sound, whispering urgently to my mom. “Don’t tell her. It’s her wedding day. Don’t make her worry.” In that exact moment, as I looked at the cheerful, bustling crowd surrounding Mason, I realized something. This wedding didn’t need to happen.

Eve walked over to me, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Kayla, please don’t be mad at Mason.” “If it makes you feel better, I can ask my aunt to give up her seat.” She paused, lowering her voice. “It’s just… my aunt has never been to a tropical island before. She’s been excited about this for months.” Mason immediately patted her hand comfortingly. “This has nothing to do with you, Eve. I made the travel arrangements.” He turned to me, his tone sharp with impatience. “Eve’s family is already here at the airport.” “I couldn’t just send them home.” One of Eve’s cousins whispered sneeringly to another. “Starting a fight over something so petty? The bride’s family is so cheap.” Mason clearly heard it. But he only said, “They didn’t mean anything by it.” “Today is our big day, Kayla. Don’t be so sensitive.” I stared straight into his eyes. “My dad just had spinal surgery, Mason. My mom gets severe motion sickness.” “And you expect them to sit on a cramped Greyhound bus for thirty hours to get to my wedding?” Mason pinched the bridge of his nose. “Stop making it sound like a tragedy.” “I sent them the exact itinerary. They just take the bus, transfer to the shuttle, and hop on the ferry. It’s very straightforward.” He said it so casually. But when I pictured my dad’s stiff, unbending spine and my mom’s face turning pale on a bumpy road, my heart felt like it was being squeezed by a fist. My phone rang again. It was my mom via FaceTime. The background was incredibly loud, filled with the chaotic noise of a busy bus terminal. She spoke softly, trying to sound upbeat. “Kayla, we’re boarding now.” “The bus is totally fine. Don’t worry about us.” A sob caught in my throat. “Mom, get off the bus right now.” “I’m buying you guys plane tickets.” My mom panicked. “No, no, don’t do that! Mason set everything up perfectly.” In the background, I heard my dad trying to suppress another harsh cough. “Don’t tell the kid,” he muttered. “It’s her wedding. Don’t ruin it.” My tears finally spilled over. “Dad, is your back hurting?” My dad forced a chuckle. “Not at all, sweetie. I feel great. Totally fine.” But a second later, an impatient voice yelled through the phone. “Hey, old man! Move it or lose it! You’re blocking the aisle!” My mom quickly apologized to the stranger. “So sorry, so sorry. His back is bad, he moves a bit slow.” My grip on the phone tightened until my knuckles turned white. I could picture the scene perfectly. My dad, clutching a seat for support, unable to straighten his back. My mom, shielding their cheap suitcases, apologizing profusely to impatient strangers. Before today, they had been as excited as little kids. Two weeks ago, I went back to my parents’ house to grab my birth certificate for the marriage license. My dad was standing in front of the mirror, trying on a cheap Macy’s suit. He had saved up for a month to buy it, saying he didn’t want to embarrass me on my big day. The sleeves were a bit too long, and the shoulders didn’t fit right. But he still smiled warmly and asked me: “Sweetie, if I wear this to the island, will I make you look bad?” My mom had spent days packing homemade peanut brittle, organic berry jams, and roasted pecans into their suitcases. “We’re meeting his parents for the first time. We can’t show up empty-handed.” “Mason treats you well, so we have to show proper manners.” At the time, I laughed at how seriously they were taking it. I had told them, “Mason has arranged everything. Just relax and follow my lead.” My mom’s eyes had lit up with pride. The next day, she told everyone in the neighborhood: “My daughter is having an island wedding!” But now… They were expected to ride a grueling Greyhound bus. On the phone, my mom was still trying to soothe me. “Kayla, don’t be angry.” “Mason is a busy man. Coordinating travel for so many people is hard work.” “We’re just glad we can save you guys some money by taking the bus.” I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. “Mom, get off the bus.” “I’m not getting married.”

My mom gasped in horror. “Don’t talk crazy, Kayla!” But I couldn’t listen anymore. I hung up, spun around, and started walking toward the exit. Mason grabbed my arm. “Where do you think you’re going?” “To pick up my parents.” His face darkened instantly. “Our flight is boarding in ten minutes. If you leave, what happens to the wedding?” I looked at him, my gaze freezing cold. “My parents aren’t even going to be there. What wedding is there to have?” Eve’s mother let out a soft, theatrical cough. Mason immediately let go of my arm, turned around, and draped his jacket over her shoulders. “Mrs. Higgins, is the AC too cold for you?” The gesture was smooth, practiced, and incredibly caring. I stood there, suddenly feeling that even demanding an explanation was a waste of breath. He knew exactly how to care for elderly people. He knew they shouldn’t be subjected to harsh drafts or long journeys. He understood respect and comfort perfectly. But that gentleness. Was never meant for my parents. Mason turned back to me, his voice laced with annoyance. “Kayla, stop throwing a tantrum.” “I already took care of your parents.” I quietly pulled my hand away from his reach. A thirty-hour Greyhound ticket. A complicated route requiring shuttles and ferries. And my parents having to swallow their pride and pain just to protect his ego. That was his definition of “taking care of them.” Just as I reached the exit of the airport, my phone rang again. It was my mom. This time, her voice was trembling with sheer panic. “Kayla… I don’t think we can take the bus.” My heart dropped. “What do you mean?” The background was loud, dominated by the angry voice of a ticket agent. My mom whispered, her voice cracking with embarrassment. “The agent says the tickets are invalid.” “They were booked for yesterday. We can’t use them today.” “They’re kicking us out of the terminal.” My brain went completely numb. Mason said he had arranged everything. And his “perfect arrangement” was buying my parents expired bus tickets. I squeezed my phone. “Mom, where are you guys right now?” My mom quickly tried to defend him. “Kayla, please don’t blame Mason.” “He had so many tickets to book. It’s just an honest mistake.” My dad’s muffled cough came through the line again. “We’ll just wait at the station for a bit.” “It’s no big deal.” They had just been thrown out of a bus station. Standing in a strange terminal with heavy bags. And they were still making excuses for Mason. My eyes burned. I turned around and walked right up to Mason. “Did you buy my parents tickets for yesterday?” Mason’s expression flickered. “What?” I shoved the phone screen in front of his face. “They just got kicked out of the terminal.” “Is this your perfect arrangement?” Mason finally frowned. He seemed to realize that this was turning into a genuine hassle. “My assistant must have messed up the dates when booking.” “Look, don’t panic.” He whipped out his phone and made a quick call. “I’ll have my assistant drive over and pick up your parents.” “We won’t fly out today.” “I’ll rebook all of us for tomorrow.” He spoke rapidly, his tone softening slightly. He was treating this like a minor corporate hiccup. But as I watched him, my heart went completely cold. If I hadn’t pushed him. If my mom hadn’t called. Would my parents have been left sitting in a cold station, clutching their bags, waiting in vain until dark?

Eve walked over, her eyes red. “This is all my fault.” “If my family hadn’t joined last minute, your parents would have had their plane tickets.” She lowered her head, looking utterly miserable. “But my parents have never traveled far. I was just so scared they wouldn’t know how to navigate the airport alone.” Mason immediately wrapped a protective arm around her shoulder. “How is this your fault?” “Stop blaming yourself for everything.” Watching him shield Eve, a wave of pure disgust washed over me. My parents were stranded at a bus station because of his negligence. And his only reaction was annoyance. But the second Eve shed a single tear. He looked as if his entire world was in pain. Half an hour later, Mason’s assistant brought my parents to the airport. The moment my mom saw me, she tried to hide a torn plastic bag behind her back. Inside was the homemade peanut brittle she had made for the trip. It had gotten crushed during the commotion at the station, and the broken pieces were stuck to the inside of the plastic wrapper. My dad was leaning heavily on his cane, his face pale with exhaustion. But when he saw Mason, the first thing he said was: “Mason, we’re so sorry for the trouble.” “We old folks just didn’t read the ticket dates carefully.” My nose stung with tears. “Dad…” Mason merely glanced at his luxury watch. “At least we didn’t miss the flight window for tomorrow.” My mom timidly held out the torn plastic bag, offering a small, hopeful smile. “Mason, I made some peanut brittle.” “Since we’re meeting your family, I wanted to bring a little treat.” Mason looked down at the sticky, broken candy. His nose wrinkled in immediate disgust. “Mrs. Miller, the resort has five-star catering.” “We shouldn’t bring smelly, homemade stuff to the island.” “The wedding aesthetic is luxury chic. This really doesn’t fit the vibe.” My mom’s hand froze in mid-air. The eager smile on her face withered away, though she tried desperately to keep her composure. “Oh, right.” “Of course.” She quickly pulled the bag back, hiding it behind her back like a scolded child. “I won’t bring it then. I don’t want to ruin the aesthetic.” My throat felt so tight I couldn’t breathe. Across the terminal, Eve’s mother let out another soft cough. Mason immediately rushed to her side, supporting her elbow. “Mrs. Higgins, please sit down.” “Did you miss breakfast this morning?” He waved his assistant over to buy sandwiches and personally wheeled her luggage out of the way. He was gentle, attentive, and incredibly respectful. The contrast between this and how he treated my parents was night and day. Eve’s aunt, Clara, let out a soft chuckle. “Honestly, bringing homemade country food to a luxury resort is a bit much. It’s better left behind.” My mom heard her. She squeezed the plastic bag in her hand, bowing her head even lower. “We’re just ignorant. Sorry for causing trouble.” Mason didn’t even acknowledge the insult to my mother. He simply gestured to the shuttle van parked outside. “Eve’s family is quite large.” “Mr. and Mrs. Miller, why don’t you take the utility van behind us?” I looked out the window. The van behind was packed to the brim with heavy luggage, equipment, and folding chairs. It was the crew’s transport vehicle. My voice was dead cold. “My dad has a spinal injury, and you want him to ride in a cargo van?” Mason’s brow furrowed deep. “Kayla, do you have to be so difficult?” “It’s just a van with some extra bags.” “We’ll be at the resort tomorrow anyway. Do you really have to pick a fight over this right now?” I looked at him. In that moment, a harsh truth crystallized in my mind. Mason hadn’t “forgotten” to respect my parents. He simply believed they didn’t deserve it. My mom quickly grabbed my wrist. “Kayla, please don’t fight.” “We can sit anywhere. The wedding is the most important thing.” The wedding was the most important thing. Even now, they were terrified of ruining my special day. But as I looked at my dad’s pale, sweating forehead and my mom clutching her ruined homemade candy, the very last spark of love I had for Mason died.

I didn’t argue. Instead, I quietly guided my parents to a hotel right next to the airport. My dad spent the entire walk apologizing. “Kayla, I’m really fine.” “Did I make things difficult between you and Mason?” My mom held the sticky bag of candy, whispering, “Maybe we shouldn’t have come.” “I don’t want his family looking down on you because of us.” Seeing them so incredibly small and anxious broke my heart. They had done absolutely nothing wrong. Yet they were carrying all the guilt. Once we got to the hotel room, I told them to rest. Then, I pulled out my phone and canceled my flight to the resort. Instead, I booked three first-class tickets to Montana. Next, I opened WhatsApp and messaged the wedding coordinator. “Cancel the wedding.” The coordinator called me back within seconds, her voice panicked. “Kayla! The ceremony is scheduled for tomorrow! Are you absolutely sure?” I looked at my parents, who had collapsed onto the hotel bed, fast asleep from sheer exhaustion. My voice was quiet but steady. “Yes. Cancel it.” At 10:00 PM, Mason returned to the hotel room. He slammed the door, his face tight with anger. The drama at the airport had clearly ruined the mood for Eve’s family, and he was taking it out on me. He stood by the door, glaring at me. “Kayla, we all fly out tomorrow morning.” “Drop the attitude.” He paused, his tone shifting to accusation. “Eve cried for hours today.” “She thinks she’s the reason your parents didn’t get plane tickets.” “When you see her tomorrow, you owe her an apology.” I stared at him, momentarily stunned, before letting out a dry laugh. “I owe “her” an apology?” Mason scoffed. “Her family had their travel perfectly sorted out.” “Because of your little stunt, everyone had to rebook their flights.” “You made a dozen people delay their trip. Don’t you think you should say sorry?” In his mind, my parents being humiliated and thrown out of a bus station was nothing. But Eve’s family having their flight delayed by a day was an unforgivable tragedy. I looked at him. The urge to explain, to argue, to make him see reason, completely vanished. “Fine,” I said softly. Mason let out a sigh of relief, assuming he had won, and walked into the bathroom to shower. I sat on the edge of the bed, looking at the three digital tickets to Montana on my phone. My heart was completely quiet. In the middle of the night, a soft rustling in the living area woke me. Mason was on a hushed FaceTime call. “Eve?” “Why are you crying?” I couldn’t hear the other side, but his voice immediately softened into a tender whisper. “Don’t be scared.” “I’m coming over right now.” As the hotel door clicked shut behind him, a memory flashed in my mind. Years ago, I had a high fever in the middle of the night and called him. He had told me he had an early meeting the next morning and told me to just take some Advil and go to sleep. Back then, I had made excuses for him. “He’s just busy.” “He’s ambitious. That’s a good thing for our future.” But the truth was simple. He was entirely capable of running out in the middle of the night to comfort someone. It just was never me. The next morning, Mason returned. There was a faint smudge of pink lipstick on his collar. He didn’t seem to notice. Eve was standing right behind him, her eyes red, her voice dripping with sweet regret. “Kayla, I am so sorry about yesterday.” “I really didn’t mean to cause so much trouble for you and your family.” Mason shot me a warning glance. The message was clear: “Apologize now.” I smiled slightly and said absolutely nothing. When we arrived at the airport terminal, Eve’s family was already waiting at the first-class check-in desk. Mason handed over their passports, smoothly checking them in. Eve’s parents, her aunt, her cousins—everyone was booked in first class. When it was my parents’ turn, the agent checked the system. “Mr. Robert Miller, Mrs. Margaret Miller. You’re in basic economy.” My mom blinked, quickly waving her hands. “Economy is perfect! Really, we don’t mind.” “We can sit anywhere.” Mason stepped forward, speaking to me in a low, placating voice, clearly trying to head off another scene. “Rebooking at the last minute was tight.” “These were the only first-class seats left.” “Economy is fine for your parents. It’s only a two-hour flight anyway.” Two hours. Suddenly, he knew the flight was only two hours. Yet yesterday, he had no problem sending my parents on a thirty-hour bus ride. Eve chimed in, her voice sweet and helpful. “Maybe I should swap seats with your mom, Kayla?” Mason immediately cut her off. “No way.” “You didn’t sleep at all last night, Eve. Don’t push yourself.” I looked at the deep concern in his eyes for Eve. Then I looked at my dad’s pale, weary face. The very last thread holding me to this man snapped. The boarding announcement echoed through the terminal. The first-class passengers were called to their priority lane. Mason was busy guiding Eve’s mother and helping her father with his carry-on. Just before passing through the gate, he finally remembered to look back at me. “Kayla, take your parents and line up over there.” “See you at the resort.” With that, he walked down the priority lane with Eve’s family. My mom whispered, “Kayla, we should get in line. We don’t want to miss the gate.” I took her hand and smiled gently. “Mom, Dad.” “We’re not going to that wedding.” “I’m taking you somewhere else.” My mom’s eyes widened. “But the wedding…” Over the loudspeaker, the final boarding call for Mason’s flight echoed. I took one last look at the empty priority lane. Mason probably thought we would meet him at the baggage claim on the island. He had no idea. We would never meet again.

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Five years ago, after being diagnosed with severe depression, an alter ego named Osman appeared in my body. On odd-numbered days, I’m awake, and on even-numbered days, he is. He’s vibrant and charismatic, while I’m quiet and reserved. My parents, Mr. and Mrs. Williams, and my fiancée, Alice, all prefer him, reserving all their affection for his days. But as time went on, they grew greedier. Every time I was awake, they’d bring me a sedative. If I kept taking them, my core personality would be completely erased. To make them happy, I always took the sedatives. Until today, my birthday, Alice once again handed me the medicine. I looked at her, my eyes red, pleading, “Alice, this time, can I not take the medicine?” She frowned slightly, her voice laced with reluctant cruelty: “Don’t be silly. Osman is going skiing tomorrow; you need more rest.” It turned out all her kindness to me was just her way of maintaining this body for Osman. The bitter pill slid down my throat, swallowing my years of love along with it. Alice, I wish you both happiness. This body, I don’t want it anymore.

Her brow relaxed. “The doctor said this course of medication will help you sleep soundly, and Osman will wake up feeling better tomorrow.” “He needs an early start tomorrow, so you should rest early today.” “Is his ski trip more important than my birthday?” Alice paused for half a second, her gaze hardening. “Davis, don’t compare things like this.” “I’m not comparing.” “You are. Every time you bring up Osman, you act like I owe you something.” I looked at her. “Don’t you?” Her expression stiffened, then her voice softened, “He’s a part of you. Don’t always get hung up on little things.” “I know it’s hard for you to take the medicine, but once you’ve recovered in a few days, I’ll take you to the beach to celebrate your birthday, okay?” She promised a future, then stared at me for a few more seconds. “You’re unhappy about your birthday today, isn’t it because of the cake?” I said nothing. The cake was a Strawberry Napoleon, Osman’s favorite, but I’m allergic to strawberries. When Alice picked out the strawberry for me, she said, “See, I remember you like sweets.” She did remember, but she remembered the wrong person. “I’ll have my assistant order you a new one tomorrow.” “No need.” “Now you’re just being dramatic.” She raised a hand, intending to caress my face. I flinched. Her hand missed, and her expression instantly turned cold. “Davis, you’ve taken the medicine. Don’t throw another tantrum.” My mom’s hushed voice came from outside the door: “Alice, did Davis take it?” Alice glanced at me. “Yes, he did. Davis is asleep; you both should get some rest too.” “Thank you for your trouble.” My mom’s voice was gentle. Alice closed the door, the click of her heels fading into the distance. Once I was sure she was gone, my mom sighed in relief. “That’s good.” My dad’s voice was cold. “After tonight, the medication will completely suppress the core personality. Osman finally won’t have to suffer anymore.” My mom quickly said, “Keep your voice down! What if Alice finds out the truth and gets soft, ruining everything?” “If she knows we’re drugging Davis, our alliance with the Andersons would be ruined!” “What are you afraid of?” My dad snorted. “Dr. Peter said if we drag this out any longer, we’ll lose both of them.” “Osman is outgoing, lively, and incredibly charming. Only he can take over our Williams family business and secure the Anderson alliance.” “Davis’s gloomy nature would only drag down the entire family!” Just outside the door. I listened to my own parents’ secret judgment, the bitterness in my throat slowly rising. Soon after, pain began in my chest. It wasn’t a sharp, cutting pain; it was like fine needles piercing my brain, meticulously pulling out my memories and consciousness one by one. I bit down on the bedsheet, convulsing with pain, every breath tasting of blood. In the middle of the night, Alice returned. I closed my eyes, hearing her walk to the bedside. “Davis, are you alright?”

I was drenched in cold sweat from the pain, unable to respond. She stood there for a long time, seemingly believing I was fast asleep. A soft clink sounded on the bedside table. “If the medicine is bitter, have a candy.” “Don’t always frown; Osman will have a headache when he wakes up tomorrow.” I opened my eyes; she had already turned away. “Alice.” I called out to her. She stopped. “Is the candy for me, or for this body?” She didn’t turn back, her silhouette distant. “What’s the difference?” I forced a smile. “None.” The door closed again. The candy lay on the bedside. She had bought me this candy five years ago, when her startup was at its toughest. The wrapper was still blue and white. I reached out and swept it into the trash can. In the drawer were a few things that only belonged to me on my days. A spare phone with a shattered screen, a notebook filled with intricate details of Alice’s company’s financial vulnerabilities. And the tie clip she had bought me before. I put them all into a trash bag. When the pain grew intense, I paused to retch for a while. Before dawn, I finally finished packing my things. In the morning, my mom pushed the door open, carrying a set of skis. “Osman, hurry up and try on the new board…” I sat on the edge of the bed, looking up at her calmly. Her voice abruptly stopped, and the skis clattered to the floor. My dad squeezed in behind her. Seeing my face, he blurted out, “How are you still awake?!” “I’m sorry to disappoint you.” My mom’s face drained of color, her hands trembling violently. “How can this be? It’s an even-numbered day; Osman should be awake!” My dad lowered his voice. “Did you not finish the medicine?” “Alice made sure I drank it.” My dad immediately pulled out his phone and dialed a number, walking onto the balcony and speaking in a hushed tone. “Dr. Peter, what’s going on? Why is he still awake?” “That experimental drug… yes, the project Alice invested in, the data for that project can’t have any errors!” Whatever was said on the other end, my dad’s face changed. After hanging up, he looked at my mom. “We can’t let Alice know.” My mom pressed his arm. “If she knows we added something to the medicine, our business will be completely ruined.” She turned to me, a momentary look of embarrassment in her eyes. “Davis, Mom knows you resent us.” “Yeah.” She froze, clearly surprised I’d admit it. I used to always say I didn’t resent them. The year I was diagnosed, Osman woke up for the first time. He smiled and hugged my mom, sweet-talking her for half an hour. My mom froze, then her eyes welled up. “This is my son.” I stood by, seeing the disappointment in her eyes. She didn’t speak, but I understood. Davis, you’re too gloomy; you suffocate people. You can’t offer any emotional support; all you do is stay up late looking at reports. From then on, I endured for five years. They made me shift my birthday to one of his days so we could celebrate together. They cleared out my bedroom balcony so Osman could store his skis and gaming chair there. Whenever there was a business dinner, she’d make me take sleeping pills, forcing me into a trance so Osman could take over, socialize for her, and take all the drinks. Once, on one of his days, Osman even used my account to text Alice, claiming I didn’t want to celebrate my birthday, so she wouldn’t feel awkward. Alice believed it. That year, on my birthday, she didn’t even call. I thought, in the end, I’d earn my family’s and lover’s sympathy, but they just resented that I hadn’t disappeared completely enough. “Give me your phone.” My dad walked over, reaching out. “Why?” “You’re emotionally unstable right now. Don’t go contacting Alice.” I handed over my phone. The quiet click of the lock echoed in the room. I sat back on the bed, looking at the empty balcony. There used to be an old film camera there, one I’d saved up for ages to buy. On my days, I’d clean the lens. On his days, Osman, complaining it took up too much space, threw it and its film cartridges into the recycling bin. He always claimed he didn’t know anything. But every time I liked something, it would disappear on his days.

At noon, the lock clicked open. Alice pushed the door in, carrying a few paper bags, her voice holding its usual indulgent tone: “Osman, why are you still lounging in bed?” My dad followed behind, his face stiff, trying to stop her but failing. “Alice, listen to me…” Alice ignored him, walking directly to the bedside. But the moment her eyes met mine, the smile on her face froze abruptly. “Davis? It’s an even-numbered day. Why are you here? Where’s Osman?” “I’m sorry to disappoint you, he didn’t wake up.” She stood there, stunned. The bags were half-open, revealing a ski suit and a bottle of fir-scented men’s cologne. She had bought them for Osman. Osman complained white tea was too bland and only wore this intensely bold cologne. Realizing she had mistaken me, Alice subconsciously pulled the paper bags back, a flicker of awkwardness crossing her expression. My dad quickly explained from behind, “Davis has a bit of a fever; it might have affected the medicine’s absorption and the rotation.” Alice frowned. “If he has a fever, call a doctor. Davis, did you deliberately not take your medicine on time, just to keep Osman from coming out?” I looked at her. “You think I’m stealing his time?” “What else?” Her voice turned cold. “Today was his long-anticipated ski day, and a crucial deal for Anderson Group to acquire a key land parcel. You clearly knew…” “I didn’t know.” I cut her off. “All I know is that from last night until now, I was in agony, practically dying.” She gripped the paper bag handles so tightly her knuckles were white. “Davis, don’t try to scare me like that.” “Would you be scared?” She reached out and grabbed my wrist, not allowing me to pull away. “I know you’re upset about your birthday yesterday, but Osman has genuinely helped the company a lot these past few years. He’s simply more charming than you.” “Just listen, don’t throw a tantrum. Hurry and give up the body. In a few days, on one of your days, I’ll take you to the beach to celebrate your birthday.” I lowered my eyes to her hand. “Which day will you take me? On my day, or on his day?” Her throat tightened. “Davis, don’t be like this.” “See, you can’t answer.” She suddenly tightened her grip. “What exactly are you upset about?” Pain shot up from my wrist bone. I pulled my hand away expressionlessly. Alice’s hand hung in mid-air. “You’re pulling away from me?” “It hurts.” Her expression softened. “I didn’t use much force.” “Hmm.” “Davis, you’re getting more and more perfunctory with your words.” I looked at her, my patience snapped. “Don’t you love it when I’m sensible? What, you’re not happy now?” My mom quickly intervened. “Alice, you should go back to the company. Osman’s… ski trip, you should cancel it first.” Alice didn’t move. My dad also said, “Alice, we’ll watch Davis.” Alice didn’t answer. Instead, she turned to me, her voice tinged with condescension. “Do you want me to stay and keep you company?” In the past, I would have immediately nodded. I would have swallowed all my grievances, just to have her sit by the bed with me for a while. But now I just said, “No need. It would only bother you.” Her hand, clutching the paper bags, stiffened, as if she hadn’t expected me to refuse. A flicker of shock crossed her usually poised face. But she quickly masked it, letting out a cold laugh. “Fine, whatever.”

The door slammed shut. As I moved a storage box from the bottom of the closet, my fingertips brushed against a worn jewelry box. I opened it; it was empty. That was a mechanical watch Alice bought for me with her first profits, the year she first started her company. She said she couldn’t afford a good one then, but would get me a Patek Philippe someday. At the time, I wore it on my wrist, reluctant to take it off even when I slept. Later, when Osman woke up and saw the watch, he complained it was uncomfortable and looked cheap, and he tossed it carelessly into the river. Alice rushed over that day, and Osman hugged her waist, whining playfully: “Alice, I didn’t mean to. I just thought that cheap watch didn’t suit your current status. If you take me to business meetings, people will laugh at you.” She stroked his head. “If the old one’s gone, it’s gone.” When I woke up, I questioned her, “That was a gift from you.” Alice frowned, her voice impatient. “Davis, it was just a few hundred dollars. Don’t embarrass Osman. Tomorrow, I’ll have my secretary send you a Patek Philippe.” She did send it. On his days, Osman would wear that Patek Philippe, post pictures on Ins, captioning them: “Feels good to be favored.” I didn’t like the post. On my days, the expensive watch lay on the dressing table. Alice said, “See, the new one suits your current status better.” I asked her, “Do you remember what was engraved on the old watch?” She was silent for a long time. “Davis, people can’t always live in the past.” I threw the empty jewelry box into the trash. My tablet lit up, a memo popping up with a schedule reminder. Next Monday: Watch the sunrise with Alice at the beach. The note beneath read: Dr. Peter said after tonight, the integration will be complete. Finally no more waiting for his days! That was Osman’s smiley face. I looked at the words, my fingertips tingling. He knew everything. He was even looking forward to my death. As night fell, I started coughing up blood. Not just a little, but great gushes. “Davis, open the door!” Alice hammered on the door from outside. My mom frantically stopped her. “Alice, he’s asleep.” “I hear something! Move!” “He’s throwing a tantrum and broke something, don’t go in…” “Keys!” As the lock clicked open, I was leaning against the bed, vomiting blood. The carpet, the sheets, all stained dark red. Alice stood at the doorway, her pupils constricted sharply. “Davis, what happened to you?” I looked up at her, my vision somewhat blurred. “Why are you here?” She rushed forward, pulling me up from the floor, her voice tight. “I’m taking you to the hospital!” My mom followed in, clinging to her arm. “Alice, you can’t take him!” “He’s spitting blood, and you’re telling me not to care?!” Alice’s eyes were bloodshot. She pushed my mom away, about to rush out. My dad abruptly blocked the doorway, shouting loudly: “Alice! If you take him to the hospital today, if they use a stomach pump, Dr. Peter’s medication will be completely disrupted!” “Osman’s personality would be damaged, and he might never return!” Alice froze, her feet rooted to the spot. My mom cried, kneeling on the floor and clinging to her leg. “Alice, just this one night, please!” “Davis is only bleeding because of a rejection reaction to the medicine. He just needs to pull through this night.” “But if Osman misses tonight, we’ll lose him completely!” The muscles in her face twitched imperceptibly, and her arm around me instantly stiffened. I reached out my blood-stained hand and gently tugged her shirt. “Alice, I’m in so much pain.” This was the first time in five years I had cried out to her. Her voice caught in her throat. She looked down at me. I said, “Save me.” She only needed to take one step forward, just one step. I watched her fingers tremble. Just a little more, and she could touch my face. But she stopped.

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My boyfriend was a soccer fan, so I went with him to watch the World Cup. While we were lining up in ninety-eight-degree heat to enter the stadium, I went to buy him an iced Coke from a stand nearby. But when I came back, my boyfriend was gone, and my digital ticket showed it had already been scanned. “You went in? Why does my ticket show it’s been used?” I called him anxiously. “Oh, I ran into Maya, the intern from my department. She didn’t get a ticket and was crying outside, so I gave her yours.” “Are you insane? That was the VIP front-row ticket I got!” “Oh, come on. You’re not even into soccer. You’d just sit there playing on your phone. Maya is a real fan. Ever heard of doing a good deed?” I was so shocked I couldn’t speak. “So you left me outside alone for an intern?” “You can watch the livestream anyway. Can’t you just find a patch of grass and sit there until the match is over? Don’t be so selfish.” Listening to the dial tone on the phone, I immediately called my soccer-star brother.

“Hello? Liam, my ticket was…” “Lily, I’m about to go on for the match. The signal backstage is terrible. After the game, I’ll take you to the celebration party!” From the other end of the line came the coach’s voice urging them to get on the field. Before I could finish speaking, the call was hurriedly ended. I stood there frozen, holding my phone. In my hand, I was still carrying the two bottles of iced Coke I had just bought. Water droplets slid down the bottles and dripped onto my shoes. Above me was ninety-eight-degree heat, and the brutal sun was baking the asphalt until it almost seemed ready to melt. “Ma’am, if you don’t have a ticket, don’t block the ticket-checking lane. Go wait in the plaza over there!” A security guard came over and waved me away impatiently. I could only carry the Cokes and retreat to the edge of the plaza, where there was no shade at all. Sweat ran down my forehead and into my eyes, and the sting made me squint. I took out my phone, wanting to ask Zach how long exactly he expected me to wait. The moment I opened Ins, the first post was one Zach had just uploaded. The photo was of the soccer field from a VIP front-row angle. On the right side of the image, there was clearly a girl’s slender wrist. On that wrist was the Cartier bracelet I had spent twenty thousand dollars on for Zach last month. The caption read, “Watching the match with someone who truly gets it. This is what the World Cup is all about.” I was shaking with anger, and I called Zach directly. It rang for a long time before he finally picked up. “What now? Are you ever going to stop?” Zach’s voice was full of extreme impatience. Deafening cheers came from the background. It seemed someone had scored a goal. “What’s with the Ins post? You gave my ticket to someone else, and now you let her wear my bracelet?” I questioned him through clenched teeth. Zach scoffed on the other end. “Lily, why are you so materialistic?” “Maya didn’t wear any accessories today. I thought the bracelet matched her outfit, so what’s wrong with letting her borrow it?” “You can’t even tell Cristiano from Neymar, and you think you understand soccer?” I took a deep breath and tried to keep my voice from trembling. “I don’t understand soccer, but I understand basic manners! That was my ticket. What gave you the right to make that decision without my permission?” “Do you know how hot it is outside? You’re making me stand out here for hours?” Zach’s tone became even more self-righteous. “I already told you, Maya is an intern, and her monthly salary is only three thousand dollars.” “She can’t even afford official merch. You carry bags worth tens of thousands, so what’s wrong with letting her have the ticket?” “You always act so superior at the office, and now you’re nitpicking over one ticket. Are you jealous that Maya understands soccer better than you?” I could hardly believe what I was hearing. He was being generous with someone else’s things and still made it sound so noble. Just then, a sweet, delicate female voice came from the other end of the phone. “Zach, is Lily mad?” “Why don’t I go outside instead? I really want to watch Liam play, but I don’t want to affect your relationship.” Maya’s voice sounded incredibly wronged. Zach immediately lowered his voice to comfort her. “Don’t mind her. She’s just being dramatic. Stay right here. No one is kicking you out today.” Then he turned back to the phone, and his voice suddenly rose. “Lily, I’m warning you. Don’t embarrass me out there by acting crazy.” “It wasn’t easy for Maya to come here. If you dare come in and cause a scene today, we’re done!”

I tightened my grip on the Coke bottle in my hand, and my knuckles turned white from the force. “Fine, I won’t go in. Zach, take your things and get out here right now.” Zach let out a cold laugh. “Come out? This is Liam’s home game, and you want me to come out?” “Is something wrong with your brain?” “Even if you got on your knees and begged me right now, I wouldn’t go out.” I felt as if a huge stone were blocking my chest, making even breathing difficult. “Zach, if you don’t come out, then don’t contact me again after this.” The other end of the line went silent for two seconds. Then came Zach’s mocking laughter. “Fine, Lily. Don’t threaten me with a breakup.” “If you dare leave today, don’t come begging me to get back together later!” “Maya, let’s go closer to the front. Ignore this crazy woman.” Before I could speak, the dial tone sounded again. I stood under the blazing sun, looking at the bustling crowd around me, and suddenly felt it was all absurd. After three years together, I had thought he was just a little short-tempered. I never imagined that in front of someone else, he could belittle me until I was worth nothing. The security guard came over again and tapped the railing beside me with his baton. “Hey, I’m talking to you. Don’t stand here and get in the way!” I took two steps back, and my vision suddenly went black. As the world spun around me, I heard people nearby cry out in alarm. When I opened my eyes again, I smelled the strong scent of disinfectant. A nurse was taking my blood pressure. “You’re awake? You had mild heatstroke. A kind passerby brought you to the medical tent.” The nurse put away the blood pressure monitor. I propped myself up on the canvas cot and felt my stomach churn violently. “Thank you. How long have I been lying here?” I asked weakly. The nurse checked her watch. “Almost an hour. Hurry and contact a friend or family member to pick you up. It’s too hot outside.” I patted my pocket and found my phone. There were no missed calls on the screen. There was only one message from Zach sitting in my texts, sent ten minutes ago. “Go buy Maya an official canvas tote. She didn’t get one, and you’re just hanging around outside anyway.” Looking at that line of text, I was so angry I laughed out loud. I had passed out from heatstroke outside the stadium, and not only did he not care where I had gone, but he was ordering me to buy merch for his “sweet little friend.” I directly called Zach on FaceTime. It rang until the last few seconds before he finally picked up slowly. “Did you get the bag? Don’t buy the wrong color. Maya likes the black one.” I spoke coldly. “Zach, I have heatstroke. I’m in the medical tent right now.” The other end paused for a moment, then Zach’s impatient voice came through. “Lily, why are you pretending to be fragile?” “Are you deliberately trying to get attention because you saw Maya having fun inside?” I closed my eyes and forced down the urge to smash my phone. “I’m not pretending. I’m dizzy and nauseous, and I can’t even stand steadily.” Zach clicked his tongue on the other end. “Enough. Stop putting on this pathetic act.” “Maya’s ankle got stepped on and it’s swollen. I need to go find an ice pack for her now.” “Since you’re in the medical tent, grab an ice pack and bring it to the ticket gate.” I seriously suspected there was something wrong with my ears. “You want someone who passed out from heatstroke to bring an ice pack to you and your mistress?” Zach instantly exploded. “Watch your mouth! What mistress?” “Maya is an innocent girl. We’re just pure friends!” “Why is your mind so filthy? If your own heart is dirty, everything you see looks dirty!” Maya’s tearful voice came from beside him at exactly the right time. “Zach, don’t scold Lily.” “It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have twisted my ankle. I’ll walk out right now even if it hurts, and I won’t cause Lily any trouble…” Zach comforted her with obvious heartache. “Why would you walk? Your foot is swollen like that! The one who should leave is a cold-blooded animal like her with no sympathy!” I didn’t want to listen to this disgusting pair act anymore, so I hung up directly.

But I casually opened Ins, wanting to distract myself. The top trending nearby post was a post Maya had just made ten minutes ago. The picture showed Zach kneeling on one knee with his back to the camera, rubbing her ankle, along with a screenshot of my VIP digital ticket. The caption read, “Being spoiled like a princess by my boss today.” “Not only did I get VIP front-row tickets, but when I twisted my ankle, someone searched everywhere for an ice pack for me.” “Even if someone is going crazy with jealousy, my boss still chose me without hesitation.” “The spirit of soccer is love and peace.” All the comments underneath were praising her for meeting a god-tier boss, and some were scolding that “someone” for not knowing what was good for her. Looking at the screen, the nausea in my stomach got even worse. Just then, a stranger’s account sent me a video. In the video, my boyfriend Zach had his arms around Maya and was kissing her passionately. The provocative caption said, “When are you, old woman, going to get lost? I’m still the one who understands Zach’s heart best.” I was so disgusted I could barely breathe. I forced myself to stand up. My legs were so weak they trembled, and acid was still rising in my stomach. Outside the medical tent, the sky was gradually getting dark. From the distant stage came deafening cheers, probably because star forward Liam had scored again. The crowd began surging like a tide toward the various exits. Dragging my weak body, I walked step by step to the exit of the VIP-only passage. Not long after I stood there, I saw Zach come out carrying Maya on his back. Maya was still holding an official black canvas tote, which Zach had obviously bought for her just now. She lay on Zach’s back and smiled happily. The two of them were pressed very close together. “Zach, this bag is so pretty. Thank you for buying it for me,” Maya said in a sweet voice. “Why are you being polite with me?” Zach’s tone was indulgent. I took a deep breath, walked forward, and blocked their path. When Zach saw me, the smile on his face vanished at once, and his brows knitted tightly. “Lily, aren’t you embarrassed blocking the way here?” “Can’t you see Maya is hurt? Even a good dog knows not to block the road!” I ignored his insults and directly held out my hand. “Zach, shouldn’t you settle the cost of my ticket?” I looked at him coldly. Maya immediately poked her head out from Zach’s back and looked at me timidly. “I’m sorry. I’ll transfer you the ticket money.” “But I’m just an intern, and my monthly salary is only three thousand dollars.” “Lily, all the bags you carry are designer brands, so you shouldn’t care about this little bit of money, right??” Her words sounded like an apology on the surface, but underneath, she was accusing me of bullying the weak. I stared at her innocent face. “I earned the money for my bags myself by working overtime and staying up late, not because it fell from the sky.” “This VIP ticket costs ten thousand dollars. Transfer it to me now. No credit.” Zach suddenly put Maya down and shielded her behind him. “Lily, that’s enough! Are you obsessed with money?” “What is ten thousand dollars to you? Will you only be happy if you make things hard for a poor intern?” Looking at the man I had dated for three years, I suddenly felt he was unbelievably unfamiliar. “Why should I pay for her to watch the game? Am I her mother or her father?” Zach’s face turned ashen from my retort. “Fine, I’ll pay, okay? I’ll transfer it to you when we get back!” “Maya’s foot hurts so badly she can’t walk right now. I need to call a cab and take her back downtown. I don’t have time to argue with you here.” I gave a cold laugh. “You’re taking her home? What about me?” “My car keys are still in your bag. Do you expect me to fly back?” I had driven him here today, and the car keys had been in his backpack the whole time. Zach froze for a moment, as if only then remembering that. He irritably felt around his pocket, pulled out the car keys, and threw them straight at me. “Just drive yourself back. What’s the big deal?”

After the heatstroke, my hands and feet were weak, so I didn’t catch them at all. The car keys drew an arc through the air and fell into the deep grass beside us. “I have heatstroke. I can’t drive.” I looked at him, my voice calm. Zach scoffed, his face full of disbelief. “Keep acting. You sounded pretty strong when you were asking for money just now.” “Maya, let’s go. Ignore this crazy woman.” He reached out and stopped an unlicensed black car parked by the road, then carefully helped Maya into the back seat. Maya leaned her head out of the car window and winked at me. “Lily, if you really can’t drive, I can lend you my bus card.” The black car sped away, spraying exhaust all over me. The sky had completely turned dark. The World Cup venue was in the suburbs, and the official shuttle buses had gradually stopped running. There were fewer and fewer people around, leaving only trash all over the ground and a few drunk soccer fans shouting loudly by the roadside. I crouched in the grass, turned on my phone flashlight, and searched for a long time before I finally found the car keys. But right now, my head was spinning, my limbs were weak, and I did not dare grip the steering wheel at all. I leaned against an abandoned metal cart, trying to calm my rapid breathing. Just then, those drunk men staggered toward me. Two shirtless men reeking of alcohol looked me up and down without restraint. “Chic, all alone?” “No ride home? I’ll give you one.” My heart tightened, and I immediately took two steps back. “No, thanks. My friend is coming soon,” I said, forcing myself to stay calm. The man with tattooed sleeves reached out and grabbed my arm. “Why are you pretending to be innocent, bitch? Anyone wandering around this late is out looking for fun.” “Come on. Have a couple drinks with us.” I yanked my arm free and turned to run toward a place with streetlights. As I ran, I called Zach with trembling hands. “Sorry, the number you have dialed is powered off.” The merciless automated female voice completely shattered my last illusion. I hid in the gap between two buses, trembling all over. The footsteps of those men got closer and closer. “Where did she run off to? That bitch is pretty fast.” I was at the peak of despair and clamped a hand over my mouth, not daring to make a single sound. At the critical moment, a black Alphard van slowly drove over. The glaring headlights cut through the darkness and shone directly on the faces of those thugs. The car stopped steadily beside the bus. The door slid open with a loud whoosh. A tall man wearing a baseball cap and a black mask stepped out of the car. Without saying a word, he grabbed the tattooed man by the collar and flung him away like he was tossing a chick. “Get lost.” The thugs were about to lash out, but when they saw several burly bodyguards in black getting out of the back of the van, they sobered up halfway from fear and scrambled away. The man turned around and took off his mask. Under the car lights, I saw the face that had just been cheered by tens of thousands in the soccer stadium. It was my biological brother, Liam. “Lily, how did you end up like this?” When Liam saw my pale face and scraped knee, raging fury ignited in his eyes. I threw myself into my brother’s arms, and the tears I had held back all day finally burst free as I told him everything that had happened today. After we got in the car, a bodyguard handed me a warm towel and warm water. Liam’s phone suddenly vibrated. He opened it, glanced at it, and let out a cold laugh. “This idiot actually dares to DM me.” Liam directly tossed the phone into my lap. On the screen was a private message Zach had sent to Liam’s official social media account. “Liam, I’ve been your fan for ten years!” “Congratulations to your team on winning the championship!” “Today I brought the girl I love most to watch your match from the VIP front row. She even twisted her ankle for you.” “I hope we can get your blessing!” Liam’s gaze turned sharp, and his fists clenched until his knuckles cracked. “He left you alone in a dark, deserted place just to bring another woman to watch my game?” I dried my tears, looked at that private message, and felt the grief in my heart gradually replaced by anger. “Liam, your team’s celebration party next week is at the Hyatt Club, right?” I lifted my head, my eyes becoming extremely firm. Liam leaned back in his seat and looked at me. “Yes. What do you want to do?” “I want to make him understand that using me to show off comes with a price.”

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I spent eighteen years raising a false cub, while my own cub was sold by my younger sister, and even my husband knew the truth from beginning to the end. At that day, I was cleaning my son’s room when I found a document he had brought home from school. Shifter Bureau — Pre‑Coronation Lineage Profile. I flipped to the section marked *Predicted Species Manifestation*. *Felidae – Panthera onca (Jaguar) dominant traits detected.* I stared at those words. I stopped breathing. I am a snow leopard. My father was a snow leopard. My mother was a jaguar. My husband Caelan was a Cheetah. There is no way our genes could produce a pure jaguar dominant trait. In our entire family, the only one with jaguar dominant blood is my younger sister. Mirabel. I took the file to Caelan. My polite, soft-spoken husband took one look at the page and exploded. “Our son is about to have his Coronation Shift. What else do you want, Sylvana? You’re always suspicious of everything. Are you losing your mind again?” “Caelan.” I kept my voice level. “School predictions aren’t always accurate. I want a formal bloodline test at the Shifter Medical Center.” “Absolutely not.” He slapped me twice. Hard. Then he slammed the door and locked it from the outside. I listened to the lock turn. Then I laughed. Eighteen years of marriage. Eighteen years of devotion. All of it, wasted on a man who’d lock his wife inside her own house. I picked up my phone. I called my husband’s biggest competitor. “I agree to transfer my patents to your company.” …… I hung up. A bitter cold settled in my chest. There shouldn’t be any problems with the school’s documents. The school tracked their half-shifts for ten years — ears, tails, eye color changes, partial markings — then sent the data to the Bureau. The Bureau used it to predict what species the kid would manifest at their Coronation Shift. Every Shifter kid got one before their eighteenth birthday. And Hayden was coming home next week for his. His first full transformation. Not a public ceremony—like a human signing for their first ID card — just official paperwork confirming you’d become an adult Shifter citizen. But now, what should i do? What a fool I had been. For years, big companies had tried to recruit me. I said no to all of them. For Caelan. For Hayden. I stayed in the shadows behind Vicksmore Group. That patent was worth a trillion. I’d never taken a cent of dividends. I sat on the couch until three in the morning. Caelan came home late. We sat in the dark. Neither of us spoke. We had good years once. When he first started the company, I stayed up with him through the nights, rewriting his pitch decks. When I got tired, I’d lean on his shoulder and doze. He used to say, “Sylvana, when the company is big, I’ll give you everything.” The company made it. Then he was never home. When he came back, he was too tired to talk. I said the house felt empty. He said, “You have Hayden.” I’d say I wanted to go to the Shifter Reserve to shift, get some air. He’d say, “Have my assistant take you. I’m swamped.” I stopped asking. I told myself this was what marriage looked like. Passion fading into companionship. Romance into family. Now I realized only one of us had made that shift. And he had turned into something else. …… At dawn, I went to the kitchen. Caelan was already there. He hadn’t cooked in a long time. “You’re up?” He looked back at me. Dark circles under his eyes. “I made breakfast.” Milk. Toast. Fried eggs, slightly burnt. He sat down. Neither of us mentioned yesterday. “Hayden comes home next week.” I paused with my cup halfway to my lips. “I know.” His voice dropped. “Sylvana, don’t overthink this. I promise I’ll spend more time with you and Hayden.” I looked up at him. I’d looked at this face for eighteen years. Watched it grow from boyish to lined. I used to know when he was lying. The slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. The way his eyes softened before he told the truth. Now I couldn’t read him at all. I looked down. “So when are we doing the bloodline test?” The warmth on his face froze. Then it disappeared. “You’re really doing this?” His fork clattered onto the plate. Then he looked at me with what seemed like disappointment and walked out of the house. I remembered when Hayden was small. Everyone said he looked like Caelan. No one ever said he looked like me. Not once. From age seven, his half-shifts had always shown pale fur and faint scattered spots. Classic Cheetah cub. Caelan was wealthy. He hired private doctors to run all of Hayden’s checkups. Every report came back the same. **Cheetah dominant.** And me? I wasn’t a geneticist. I was an engineer. So I’d believed it. For eighteen years.

I walked to the balcony and watched his car leave the garage. Then I went to his study. A divorce petition and an asset division agreement sat on the desk. I’d drafted them a year ago. Just in case. The patent that built Vexmoor Corporation — I owned a hundred percent of it. But Caelan had forgotten that. He’d started treating it like his own. My phone rang. My mother. “Sylvana, feeling better?” Her voice was light. “Your sister is coming back next week. Caelan knew you weren’t feeling well, so he booked her ticket himself that she could come back and help you. So He’s giving her a director’s position at Vexmoor.” A director’s position. I worked for the company for years. No title. No recognition. She comes back and gets a office. A few scattered memories surfaced. Caelan and Mirabel — when had they gotten so close? And she was coming back. Caelan arranged it. Mirabel. The name made my eye twitch. “It’s been so long since you two saw each other,” my mother went on. “We’re all coming over for dinner next week. One family together.” I kept my voice steady. “What time? I’ll get food ready.” “Don’t worry about it! We’ll bring the food. You just rest.” She paused. “Sylvana, listen to me. Be warm with Caelan tonight. Men have their pride.” I couldn’t listen anymore. I made a few sounds and hung up. Then I booked a rush appointment at the Shifter Medical Center. The Bureau-affiliated facility. The only one whose results were legally binding. No private doctors. No forged reports. I went into Hayden’s room and pulled hair from his comb. After I sent them to the center, I messaged a private investigator. Check Caelan’s financial records. Everything. Twelve hours later, the lab report came to my inbox. I sat in the study and stared at the file for a long time. Then I opened it. I skipped to the last page. “By official determination of the Shifter Medical Center, Ms. Sylvana is not the biological mother of Mr. Hayden. Tested subject shows Cheetah × Jaguar hybrid (F1) bloodline. Complete conflict with registered maternal snow leopard lineage.” In my gut, I’d known. But seeing it written down was something else. My hands started shaking and couldn’t breathe. I stood up and walked to the window. Eighteen years. I closed the file. I walked to the window. I tried to breathe. Outside, autumn had come to the city. The plane trees were turning gold. Far in the distance, the dome of the Shifter Bureau caught the afternoon light. I’d had a happy family once. And I thought they would be the two people I protected for the rest of my life. My phone buzzed. From the investigator. A few screenshots- Bank transfers. Caelan’s personal account had been sending fixed monthly transfers to an overseas account for at least ten years. The overseas account belonged to Mirabel. Not a small amount. But enough to keep one person living comfortably abroad. The last line of the report said: **Ms. Mirabel owns a property overseas. Purchased nineteen years ago. Paid in full. ** Nineteen years ago. The year I was told I was pregnant. The same year Mirabel went abroad. A dark thought formed in my mind. …… On the weekend, my parents arrived with bags of food. Mirabel came behind them. Cream suit. A gift box in her hand. “Sylvana.” She smiled and stepped forward to hug me. I turned slightly. She missed. Her smile froze for a second, then went back to normal. “Long time no see. I brought you a present.” The dining table filled up fast. My mother bustled around the kitchen. My father and Caelan settled into the living room, talking shop. Mirabel sat naturally in the chair next to Caelan. I frowned but said nothing. At dinner, Mirabel reached for a dish. A sapphire bracelet slid down her wrist. I stopped chewing. I had seen that bracelet at an auction two years ago. Stunning blue. Rare clarity. I wanted it, but the price was too high. Caelan had said, “If you like it, just get it. Money’s not a problem.” I said, “Too expensive. Forget it.” Later, I asked him about it. He said someone else had bought it. Now it was on Mirabel’s wrist. “Sylvana, what are you looking at?” Mirabel noticed my stare. She turned her wrist playfully. “Pretty, isn’t it? Caelan gave it to me. He said it suits me.” Caelan choked on his soup. He looked up at me. “A welcome gift. For Mirabel’s new job.” “Right,” my mother jumped in. “We’re family. What’s wrong with a gift between family? Sylvana, don’t be petty.” I didn’t say anything. I just looked at Caelan. He avoided my eyes. Mirabel smiled again, her voice soft. “Don’t misunderstand, Sylvana. I just think some things look better on the right person. Like this bracelet. Doesn’t it shine more on me than it did in that auction case?” She was watching Caelan when she said it. I knew that look. It was smug. Possession. The way a woman looks at a man she thinks belongs to her. After dinner, Mirabel volunteered to wash the dishes. Caelan stood up and said he would help. They walked into the kitchen together. I sat in the living room. I heard water running. Low voices. Mirabel’s soft laugh now and then. I glanced toward the living room. My parents were watching television, unaware of anything. I stood up slowly. And walked toward the kitchen quietly. The closer I got, the hotter the mark burned—until it felt like my skin was no longer mine. I stopped at the doorway. Just looked through the narrow gap. Mirabel stood at the sink, sleeves pushed up, humming softly as she washed dishes. And behind her— Caelan. They were too close together. Suddenly, Kaylan began to move, his lower body gently and repeatedly bumping against her hips. His hands were placed at her waist like it belonged there. Mirabel let out a series of ambiguous laughs. Then I saw Caelan gradually reach forward with both hands from behind her, cupping Mirabel’s full breasts and gently kneading them. Caelan’s breath brushed against Mirabel’s neck, licking her marks softly. Mirabel tilted her head back slightly, laughing at something when he near her ear again. My breath stopped. Caelan leaned in closer. Their movements seemed to be getting more and more intense. The mark on my neck burned so violently I almost grabbed the doorframe to stay upright. My body understood before my mind did. This wasn’t new. I had felt this for eighteen years. Every time I mentioned it to Caelan, he smiled and said I was just sensitive. “Some shifters are more aware of their marks. Nothing serious.” “But I never felt this before…” “You haven’t shifted in forever. Your body’s out of practice.” He always said that. I always believed him. Now I knew the truth. The resonance wasn’t mine. It was hers. And every time I told him something was wrong, he called me sensitive. Every single time. I took a step forward without thinking— “Sylvana?” My mother’s voice came from the living room. “Can you bring me some water?” I froze. The sound shattered whatever courage I had gathered. When I looked back toward the kitchen again— Caelan had already turned slightly. Mirabel’s smile was still there. As if nothing had happened. As if I had imagined all of it. I stepped back slowly and walked away from the door. My mother called again. “Sylvana?” “Yes,” I answered softly. My voice didn’t sound like mine anymore. Then I went into the living room and sat on the sofa. My mother slid onto the sofa next to me. “Sylvana, look at how helpful she’s being. She came back to support Caelan. You could be a little warmer to her. You’re her sister.” My father weighed in too. “Caelan built that company from nothing. Having family on the inside is good for him. You’re the older sister. Have some grace.” I turned to look at my father. “Dad. Caelan is my husband. Mirabel is your other daughter. Don’t you think they’re too close?” His face darkened. “What are you implying?” “What if I told you,” I said quietly, “that Hayden might not be mine?” Both of them froze. My mother recovered first. She grabbed my wrist. “Sylvana! Don’t say things like that! Of course Hayden is your son. What’s gotten into you?” My father slammed his hand on the table. “Enough! You really do need to see a doctor. Caelan was right.” That was the last thing I needed to hear. Their reactions killed the last bit of hope I had. They only cared about Caelan. About what he gave them. Theynever knew that Vexmoor only existed because of me.

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For five years, I spent every major holiday visiting my mother’s killer in prison. Year after year, I showed up. I brought him the chicken sandwich he loved, and I even sneaked in a bottle of fine Macallan whiskey. I treated him better than my own father. Watching him shovel the food into his mouth like a starving animal, I quietly slid a photo album across the cold metal table. “I still looked after your mother,” I told him, my voice flat. “She stayed in that old house on Elm Street, waiting for you. She never touched a dime of the money you gave her. The cancer… they couldn’t cure it. She passed away last month.” He stopped chewing. Then, he broke. Tears spilled over his calloused cheeks, and bits of food tumbled from his mouth as he sobbed with a raw, agonizing regret. “I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice cracking. “I’m so sorry… Your mother, she died of an asthma attack. But I had already let her go by then. A nurse—she had already arrived. She took the rescue inhaler right out of my hands. I only took her for the money…” I already knew the rest of the story. My mother’s death had been ruled an accidental acute asthma episode. He had been charged with involuntary manslaughter and grand larceny. I quietly slid another photograph from the album. The woman in the picture was my mother’s best friend. My godmother. And now, my stepmother—the woman my father cherished above all else. Lydia. “The nurse,” I whispered, holding his gaze. “It was her, wasn’t it?” He nodded. … Listening to his tearful confession through the scratched plexiglass, my own tears finally spilled over. I hated him. Of course I did. He played a hand in my mother’s death, and he was serving fifteen years for it. But I hated the woman who had actually killed her even more. Because she had paid absolutely no price. Ever since my mother died, Lydia had wrapped herself in the armor of severe depression, claiming her mind was fragile, shattered by grief. She played the guilt-stricken victim perfectly. “I could have saved her,” she would sob, her voice trembling with theatrical remorse. “If only I had run a little faster.” She even went as far as self-harming to prove her agony. And so, my father banned the subject entirely. He couldn’t bear to see his beloved Lydia triggered by the past. He paid off the kidnapper’s associates, securing their silence about Lydia ever being at the scene, and fabricated a false alibi for her. All to spare her from police interrogation. I was just a teenager then, unable to comprehend his betrayal. “Are we just going to sweep Mom’s death under the rug?” I had screamed at him. My father looked down, a flicker of shame crossing his eyes before he hardened his gaze. “The living matter more, Maeve. Your mother wouldn’t want to see her best friend suffer like this.” On the night of my mother’s funeral, during the final, quiet moments of the service, my father slipped away. Because Lydia was having another hysterical episode, threatening to end her life. So, it was just me, holding my weeping grandmother as we watched my mother’s casket lower into the cold earth. I never believed Lydia’s story. Because right before the end, Mom had texted me. The moment the kidnapper grabbed her, her chest had tightened. She was having an attack. She needed her inhaler, and the kidnapper used that to terrify my father into paying quickly, warning him not to call the cops. My father agreed immediately. After relentless begging, Mom convinced them to let her send a text so I wouldn’t panic. Maeve, sweetheart, I’m okay. Tell Nana not to worry. I just saw your godmother running toward us. They only want money. We’ll be home soon. I remember the wave of relief that washed over me. I sat in the kitchen with Nana, cooking Mom’s favorite dinner. I had even laid out my latest report card, eager to show her my straight A’s, hoping she’d surprise me with the plush toy she’d promised. Nana and I waited. We watched the clock. But Mom never came home. Instead, she ended up on a metal slab in the morgue. My father claimed that by the time Lydia reached her, Mom was already gone. But the timeline didn’t make sense. There was a thirty-minute gap between Mom’s text and Lydia’s alleged arrival. It shouldn’t have taken more than two minutes to cross that distance. In the visiting room, the kidnapper bowed his head, his shoulders shaking. “Please… please help bury my mother. I was wrong to go down that path, but I swear to God, I didn’t want your mother to die. She was breathing when I left her.” I nodded slowly. “I’ll take care of her.” For five years, I had kept my promise, looking after his frail mother. She refused to believe her son was a cold-blooded killer and apologized to me every time she saw me. As I stepped out of the prison gates, my phone began to vibrate. It was my father. A contact I barely touched these days. I pressed accept, but it was Lydia’s soft, sweet voice that drifted through the speaker. “Maeve, sweetheart, come home for dinner tonight.” She loved playing the doting mother on holidays. It was her favorite performance. This time, I let out a soft laugh. “Sure. I’ll be there.” After Mom died, I rarely set foot in my father’s house. I wanted the truth. We fought about it constantly. “Have you lost your mind?” my father would roar, his face turning red. “Lydia went there to save your mother! The guilt of failing is eating her alive, and you want to drag her through the mud? Do you want to destroy everyone who’s left?” I had stared at him, holding up my phone with the archived text messages. “But look at the timing—” Slap. A heavy hand struck my cheek, leaving my ears ringing. “Stop this madness!” he barked. Over the years, he tried to patch things up. I ignored him. When I reached the front door of my childhood home, I tried typing the security code. Access Denied. I tried again. Nothing. It seemed that in my absence, even the locks had been changed. The door clicked open from the inside. Lydia stood there, beaming with warmth, gesturing for me to come in. “Maeve! You’re finally home. I made all your favorites.” She used to be so genuinely kind. I used to cling to her side, calling her Auntie Lydia with absolute devotion. How sickeningly ironic that she was now my stepmother. My father had married her under the guise of “taking better care of her.” I could never understand how a woman could crawl into the bed of her dead best friend’s husband. I sidestepped her reaching hand and walked into the house. At the dining table, my father placed a piece of roasted chicken onto my plate. I left it untouched. “About Mom…” I began. Before I could finish, my father slammed his fork down. The atmosphere instantly turned ice-cold. After Mom died, my father established a strict set of rules. The golden rule: Never mention Mom. Because it would trigger Lydia. Every trace of my mother had been systematically erased from this house. The nanny who had raised me was fired. My mother’s hand-designed interior decor was torn down. Everything had to be brand new. I remember throwing myself in front of the workers, screaming, “No! You can’t do this! This is Mom’s work!” But my father had pried my fingers away, one by one. “Keeping these things only prolongs the pain, Maeve,” he had said, his voice dripping with practical cruelty. “We have to move forward. We are all grieving, but drowning in the past won’t bring her back.” He always had a rationalization. The house became a pristine, sterile gallery of their new life. If it weren’t for Nana and me, my mother would have been completely wiped from this world. He claimed he was in pain, that he spent sleepless nights wondering if he could have driven faster that day. Yet, his solution to grief was erasure. The living mattered; the dead were just ghosts to be exorcised. They even threw away the baby clothes. My mother had been pregnant with my little sister when she died. We had spent months dreaming of her arrival. My father and I had even hand-painted a crib together—a welcome gift for the baby. All of it, gone. Are the dead meant to be forgotten so easily? I couldn’t do it. Looking at him now, a sudden, dark thought crossed my mind. Maybe it was better this way. He didn’t deserve to keep her memory. He didn’t deserve a single piece of her. Seeing the tense silence stretching across the table, Lydia stepped in to play the peacemaker. “It’s alright, Robert. Let Maeve speak. I’ve worked hard to heal, and I can officially accept my sister’s passing. It was simply her time. Fate is fate.” I looked at her and let out a slow, deliberate smile. Five years. She truly believed she had covered her tracks. I was going to burn her world to the ground. When my father found out I had visited the prison, his face turned livid. “You just won’t let this go, will you?” he hissed. “It’s been five years! What are you trying to pull? Your mother wanted you to have a normal life, not turn into some obsessed psychopath. Do you want me to put you back in that facility?” I shrugged, completely unfazed. “Go ahead. Try.” It wouldn’t be the first time. Back when I was a teenager, after I intentionally triggered Lydia into a hysterical fit, my father had committed me to a psychiatric hospital. I wasn’t even eighteen yet. But the doctors found nothing wrong with me and discharged me. My father had then threatened to send me to one of those strict, abusive behavioral modification camps for “troubled teens.” He believed Lydia blindly, refusing to look at Mom’s final text, refusing to see the gaping holes in the story. He chose to be her accomplice. In the end, it was Nana who had intervened, standing like a shield between me and his madness. “Nobody is taking my granddaughter to a place like that!” she had roared. The memory faded, leaving only the quiet hum of the dining room. The dinner was ruined. I stood up and left, heading straight to Nana’s house. Nana was fragile now, blind in one eye. She was a survivor of too much tragedy, having raised my mother alone, only to outlive her. What made our grief unbearable was the knowledge that Mom didn’t have to die. The kidnapper hadn’t wanted her dead. She had her rescue inhaler with her. If someone hadn’t deliberately taken it away, she would have saved herself. The kidnapper had sworn he gave it back to her. Lost in my thoughts, I unlocked Nana’s front door, only to find her collapsed on the living room floor. Panic seized me. I rushed her to the hospital, my chest tightening with a suffocating terror. Fear and grief tangled in my throat, making my entire body shake. I stayed by her bedside all night. When she finally opened her eyes the next afternoon, she gave me a weak, reassuring smile. “I’m alright, sweet girl. Just a little dizzy.” My tears broke. “Nana, please don’t scare me like that.” Later that afternoon, my father actually showed up at the hospital. “Mom, are you hurt? How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice laced with superficial concern. Nana remained silent, refusing to look at him. She had never forgiven him for his choices. Not wanting him to stress her further, I nudged him toward the quiet hallway outside. “I’ll keep you updated. She needs to rest right now.” My father hesitated, shifting his weight. “Maeve… it’s about your mother’s grave. Lydia and I were talking, and we think we should relocate her. The energy at that cemetery isn’t right. It’s… bad luck.” My jaw clenched so hard it ached. I stared at him, utterly disgusted. Was he even human? Before I could voice my fury, a sharp scream echoed from Nana’s room. I bolted back inside. Nana was clutching her chest, gasping for air, her face pale as she pointed a trembling finger at Lydia. Tears streamed down her wrinkled cheeks. Lydia stood nearby, looking like a wounded lamb. “Mrs. Hayden, I only wanted to pour you some water. I’m the child you watched grow up… I’m so sorry. I only asked Robert to take care of me because…” Nana couldn’t breathe. Ignoring Lydia entirely, I screamed for the nurses. The room erupted into chaos, and Nana was rushed into the emergency operating room. Standing in the sterile hallway, I stared at Lydia’s tear-streaked face. The anger that had simmered for five years boiled over. I stepped forward and slapped her across the face. “What did you say to her? Who gave you permission to come here?” A second later, a heavy blow struck my own face, sending me stumbling back. “Maeve! What is wrong with you?” my father roared, stepping between us. “She came here out of respect! How dare you lay a hand on her?” I glared at him through a haze of pain. Nana wasn’t just his mother-in-law; she was his mentor. When he was a broke college student, Nana had paid his tuition out of her own pocket, launching his entire career. And this was how he repaid her. “I am going to find out the truth,” I whispered, my voice trembling with a cold, absolute certainty. “For everything.” Lydia sobbed, burying her face in my father’s chest. “Maeve, I only wanted to see if she was okay. I was just trying to help her drink some water. I don’t know why she reacted like that… I understand you hate me, but I hate myself too. I wish I could have saved her.” I didn’t even bother responding. If she truly felt a shred of remorse, she wouldn’t have crawled into my mother’s bed. I turned on my heel and walked straight to the hospital security office to demand the surveillance footage. My father grabbed my wrist, pulling me back. “Maeve, stop. It’s been five years. Let it go. You’re destroying yourself.” I wrenched my arm free. “I will never let it go.” My mother and my unborn sister deserved justice. I wasn’t going to let a fake diagnosis of depression protect a killer. In the security room, we watched the tape. Lydia was clever. She had positioned her body perfectly to block the camera’s view of Nana’s bed. And because the camera was mounted far down the hall, there was no audio. Lydia let her head drop, looking meek and vindicated. My father sighed, as if he had just won an argument. “See? You always jump to conclusions. Lydia has carried this guilt for years. She was terrified to see Nana, but she came anyway because she cared.” “Now, apologize to her.” “No,” I said flatly. Lydia gently touched my father’s arm. “It’s fine, Robert. It’s my fault.” Her martyrdom only fueled his anger toward me. But as she leaned against him, I saw it—the briefest, coldest flash of triumph in her eyes. A chill ran down my spine. The image of Nana in the operating room, of my mother dying alone in the dirt, flashed in my mind. I lunged forward, grabbing Lydia by the collar. “What did you do to her, Lydia? My mother loved you like a sister! How could you do this to her?” My father tried to pull me off, but I was no longer a helpless child. I had the strength of five years of fury. I yanked her hair, forcing her to look at me. She shrieked, terrified by the sheer violence of my rage. My father finally managed to tear me away, shoving me back hard. “Maeve, you’ve completely lost your mind!” he screamed. My back slammed against a heavy metal cart, a sharp pain radiating through my spine. He turned to help Lydia up, guiding her toward the exit. “Nana is still in surgery,” I called out, my voice cracking. “You’re going to leave her here, in critical condition, because of a scratch on Lydia?” I didn’t need his help. I just wanted to see him make the choice. He knew how much Nana meant to my mother. If he had a shred of love left for his late wife, he would stay. My father hesitated, looking back at me, then at Lydia’s tear-stained face. “I’m taking Lydia to get bandaged. I’ll be right back.” I bit my lip until I tasted blood. “If you walk out that door, you are dead to me.” He didn’t stop. As I watched his retreating back, the last remaining piece of my childhood died. But before they could reach the elevators, two plainclothes officers stepped out, blocking their path. They flashed their badges. “Lydia Hayden? You’re under arrest in connection with the homicide of Isabel Hayden. Please come with us.” I let out a slow, cold breath, a bitter smile touching my lips. The wheels of justice were finally turning. The kidnapper’s new testimony had been officially processed. The case was reopened.

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Late at night. The exhausted voice of my wife, Deborah, drifted from the bathroom. “Babe? Have you seen my old phone anywhere?” I sat on the sofa, paralyzed. My fingers trembled as I stared down at the screen of that very phone in my hands. It had lit up, displaying the recent query history of her AI assistant app. “A three-year-old accidentally eats cashews and goes into anaphylactic shock. What is the emergency treatment besides an EpiPen?” “What are the admission requirements for Beacon Hill Academy?” “How do I securely transfer marital assets without my husband knowing?” Staring at the glowing screen, my blood ran cold. The air felt sucked out of the room, and a sharp, blinding pain pierced my chest, making it hard to draw a breath. We had been married for five years. Deborah was the one who had insisted on us being child-free. I still remembered her wrapping her hands around mine, looking at me with eyes full of tenderness. “Elliot, giving birth is so painful. I’m terrified of it. If we don’t have kids, I can give all my love to you. We’ll be closer that way, just the two of us.” Back then, I was so deeply moved, believing I had found the one woman who loved me unconditionally. Until I saw these search queries. … Just then, the bathroom door clicked open. Deborah walked out, towel-drying her hair, heading toward me. “Babe? What are you staring at?” I swiftly flipped the phone face-down on the coffee table. “Nothing,” I said, fighting to keep my voice steady and natural. “Your phone’s right here on the table.” Deborah walked over and picked it up. “Why do you look so pale?” She reached out to touch my forehead. “Didn’t sleep well last night?” I subtly leaned back, evading her touch. “Maybe a bit of low blood sugar.” I looked into her eyes. “How late were you working last night?” Her hand paused on the towel. “Around three, I think.” She sighed, her shoulders slumping with fatigue. “The tech department is full of idiots. They couldn’t get the server patch to deploy, so I had to stay and oversee it myself. I’m absolutely exhausted.” “Is that so?” I stood up. “But when I got up in the middle of the night, I thought I heard you on the phone. Something about… anaphylactic shock?” Deborah let out a forced, dry chuckle. “You must have been dreaming.” “I said the servers went into shock—crashed. Anaphylactic? Elliot, you’re definitely hallucinating.” She slipped her old phone into her pocket and turned toward the walk-in closet. “I need to change. I have an early meeting this morning.” Watching her retreat, my stomach churned with a sudden wave of nausea. The second her car pulled out of the driveway, I opened my laptop. I logged into her car’s toll-tag account. Last night at eleven, she hadn’t gone anywhere near her downtown office. Her Mercedes had taken the outer loop, heading straight for Riverwood Estates—a luxury gated community in the eastern hills. Over the past six months, her car had entered Riverwood Estates at least five nights a month, only leaving the following morning. That night, sleep evaded me entirely. Around two in the morning, unable to bear the tossing and turning, I slipped out to the bathroom. When I returned, I noticed a glass of warm water on my nightstand. Next to it was a blister pack of ibuprofen. I froze. Deborah rolled over, her voice thick with sleep. “Babe… is your ulcer acting up again? You looked so pale today. I left some medicine out just in case…” She drifted back to sleep before she could finish. I stood by the bed, staring at the pills in my hand. My throat tightened, a sudden, burning ache rising behind my eyes. She remembered. She remembered my stomach ulcers, a chronic pain I often forgot to manage myself. Could those search history queries really just be a bizarre coincidence? I crawled back under the covers. Deborah instinctively nestled into my chest, her forehead resting against my chin. “Don’t overthink things,” she mumbled. “Your wife’s got you.” I closed my eyes, letting a silent tear slip into the pillow. The next morning, the bed beside me was cold. A sticky note was pasted onto the nightstand. “Babe, breakfast is warming in the oven. I made your favorite cinnamon apple oatmeal. Don’t go into the office today; I called in sick for you. I’ll come home early tonight to keep you company. — Love, Deborah.” I held the note, sitting on the edge of the bed in a daze for a long time. In the kitchen, a bowl of warm oatmeal, a small plate of berries, and a peeled hard-boiled egg were waiting for me. As I took one slow bite after another, a quiet, desperate voice in my head grew louder: What if she really didn’t do anything? What if I’m just being paranoid? Right then, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Deborah, accompanied by a photo. She was in a sleek boardroom, surrounded by thick binders, her brow furrowed in exhaustion. The caption read: “Meetings all morning, pounding headache. Wish you were here to rub my temples. Miss you.” Staring at the photo, a heavy wave of guilt washed over me. She was working so hard, and here I was, digging through her toll records… I clenched my jaw, deciding to test her one last time. I dialed her number. “Hey, babe. About that phone call last night… I swear I heard you say ‘anaphylactic shock.’ Was I really just dreaming?” The line went quiet for a beat. Then, she laughed, her voice melting into its usual warmth. “Oh, honey. You are definitely working too hard. Remember when Diane brought her kid over last week while you were home?” “The little girl has a severe peanut allergy and accidentally ate a peanut butter cracker. Her face swelled up instantly.” “I was terrified, so I looked up emergency first aid. Why? Did you think I had some secret love child?” Her tone was teasing, tinged with a playful pout. My heart squeezed. “Diane’s kid?” I managed to ask. “Yeah! When we had Diane and her husband over for dinner last Friday. The chubby little girl, remember?” Deborah’s tone was incredibly natural. “Sweetie, are you under too much pressure at work lately? How about I take you away for a weekend retreat?” My mouth opened, but no words came out. Diane and her family had come over last week. The little girl was chubby. I hadn’t noticed if she had an allergic reaction… “Maybe I just overanalyzed it,” I murmured. “Of course you did. But it just shows how much you care about me.” Deborah chuckled. “Anyway, I have to run. See you tonight. Love you.” The line went dead. I leaned against the kitchen counter, my phone slipping from my fingers onto the floor. So the search history was because of Diane’s kid? But what about the toll records? Why was she at Riverwood Estates in the middle of the night? At seven that evening, Deborah walked through the door right on time. She was carrying a bag from a high-end designer toy boutique I loved. “Babe! Look what I got you. The limited-edition designer figures you wanted.” She kicked off her heels, walked over, and pressed a kiss to my cheek. “Have a good day at home?” Looking at her bright smile, the guilt in my chest deepened. She cooked dinner herself. A three-course meal, entirely composed of my favorites: braised short ribs, garlic sautéed greens, and a creamy potato leek soup. There was even a small jar of homemade dill pickles on the side. “When did you learn to make these pickles?” I asked, genuinely surprised as I sat down. “Last month, when you kept complaining about how much you missed your mom’s recipe. I snuck around and learned how to do it.” Deborah ladled some soup into my bowl. “Try it. Does it taste like home?” I took a bite of the pickle. A lump immediately formed in my throat. It was exactly the way my mother used to make them. “Deborah…” I put my fork down, my voice thick. “What’s wrong?” She looked up, her eyes wide with concern. “You’re so good to me.” She reached across the table, gently ruffling my hair. “Silly. You’re my husband. If I’m not good to you, who else would I be good to?” After dinner, she cleared the table and drew a warm bath for me. As I soaked in the tub, the hot water easing the tension in my shoulders, my resolve began to melt. Maybe I really was just being too sensitive. I got out, wrapped a towel around my waist, and walked into the bedroom. Deborah was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding a small velvet box. “Come here, babe.” She patted the spot next to her. I walked over and sat down. She opened the box. Inside lay a car key. “You stood outside the dealership and stared at this Jeep three times.” She took the key out, leaning in close to press it into my palm. “The first time was on our anniversary. You said it was too expensive and impractical.” “The second time was when you got promoted. You said you’d save up your bonus first.” “The third time was last month. You stood on the sidewalk for a solid two minutes, just looking at it.” I stared down at the key, my vision blurring. “Deborah… I… sometimes I get paranoid. I doubt you… I haven’t been a good husband,” I choked out, a sob catching in my throat. Deborah wrapped herself around me, burying her face in my shoulder. “Don’t talk nonsense,” she whispered, kissing my cheek. “Marrying you was the best decision of my life. Once the company goes public, everything I have is yours anyway. If you keep doubting yourself, I’m going to get mad.” Resting my forehead against her shoulder, the last remnants of my suspicion dissolved. How could I have doubted her? How could I be so ungrateful? That night, she held me close as we slept. But right before we drifted off, her phone rang. She slipped out to the balcony, her voice hushed. “I already transferred the funds. Make sure the paperwork is finalized first… Yes, we’ll talk next week.” When she came back inside, she offered a quick explanation. “Work stuff. We’re acquiring a small boutique studio, and the administrative hurdles are endless.” I nodded, pushing any lingering doubts aside. On Saturday, Deborah had to go in for an emergency weekend shift, leaving early in the morning. I decided to tidy up her study to surprise her, organizing the loose files she usually left scattered around. Her heavy winter coat was hanging on the rack, and I decided to take it to the dry cleaners. As I checked the pockets, my fingers brushed against a piece of stiff cardstock. I pulled it out. It was a tour reservation confirmation for Beacon Hill Academy. The date on it was yesterday. Registered name: Deborah Jeffrey. Accompanying family: Two adults, one child. My hands began to shake. Yesterday, she told me she was stuck in meetings at her office all day. I pulled out my phone, opened the toll-tag app, and typed in her license plate. Yesterday at 2:00 PM, her car left her office. By 3:00 PM, it was parked near Beacon Hill Academy. It left at 4:00 PM, and she was back at her desk by 4:40 PM. A two-hour round trip. I stared at the screen, my ears ringing. Why would Diane’s child need Deborah to tour an elite preschool? That evening, Deborah took me to our favorite high-end sushi spot. She ordered the expensive toro sashimi and opened a bottle of premium Stag’s Leap Cabernet. “What’s got you in such a celebratory mood?” I asked, trying to sound casual as I picked up a piece of salmon. “We landed a massive client today.” Deborah raised her glass. “To our future.” I clinked my glass against hers. The wine tasted like ash. When we got home, she took a shower, and we lay in bed together. “Babe, do you know why I work myself to the bone?” she asked, her hand gently tracing patterns on my back. “Why?” “Because I want to give you the best life possible.” Her voice was soft, laced with affection. “Once this crazy launch season is over, let’s fly out to Maui. Just the two of us.” I didn’t say a word. I just buried my face in her shoulder and closed my eyes. In the dead of night, a soft rustling woke me. Deborah was talking in her sleep. She rolled over, draping her arm over my chest, mumbling incoherently. I held my breath, leaning my ear closer to her lips. “…Don’t worry, sweetie… Mommy’s here…” I froze under the weight of her arm. She wasn’t talking to me. In five years of marriage, she had never called me “sweetie” in her sleep. The next morning, I got into a cab and drove to a destination I had hoped I would never have to visit.

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The Dominic betrothal gala. Caroline, my fiancée, had just been caught in the act of betraying me with Dustin, the struggling spa assistant I had charitably helped get on his feet. Yet, facing my confrontation, her expression remained entirely cold, almost bored. “Even the finest dish gets bland if you eat it every day,” she said, her voice smooth and untroubled. “You’ve been great to me, Gavin. But the kind of thrill I need—only Dustin can give me that.” “I’m planning to give him the co-chair seat at Dominic Enterprises. If you’re willing to accept that, you can stay on as my lover. I’ll give you everything you could ever want—except my name.” “And if you don’t agree, I’ll undergo chemical sterilization. Since Grandfather won’t let us marry because Dustin is sterile, then I’ll make sure I never carry a child that isn’t his.” In my past life, I had let pain blind me. I had made a scene, dragging the whole sordid affair in front of Grandfather Charles, who stepped in just in time to stop Caroline from ruining herself. Shunned and humiliated for his infertility, Dustin had left a dramatic, blood-written suicide note before taking his own life. Caroline had buried him quietly in an unmarked grave. She went through with our arranged marriage, pretending to still love me. We lived in what I foolishly believed was domestic bliss. But the moment Grandfather passed away and Caroline fully seized control of the family empire, the first thing she did was throw me into the city’s worst red-light district. I was subjected to horrific abuse, eventually contracting an agonizing disease that left my body rotting away. As I lay dying, she whispered in my ear that this was my punishment for tearing them apart. So, when I opened my eyes to find myself back in this moment, listening to Caroline present the exact same choices, I felt no shock. I didn’t argue. I didn’t try to stop her. Because she had no idea. Grandfather Charles and I had once sworn a solemn blood oath in the Dominic family chapel. From the moment I saved his life, the rule was set: whoever I chose to marry would inherit the Dominic dynasty. 1. The familiar ultimatum echoed in my ears once more. Even the willow branches swaying outside the window looked exactly as they had in my previous life. I looked at the two of them, their skin still marked with the unmistakable flush of their betrayal. This time, there was no disbelief, no desperate urge to understand why the person I loved had stabbed me in the back. There was no self-pity, no sorrow. There was only a deep, burning hatred that settled into my bones. I clenched my fists, letting my nails dig into my palms as I took a slow, steady breath. “Then I wish you two a long and happy life together.” It clearly wasn’t the response Caroline had anticipated. Her brow furrowed slightly. “You’re not angry?” In the past, my jealousy would have flared, driving me to scream and demand answers. I forced a small, polite smile. “Love can’t be forced. If he’s the one you want, I respect your decision.” A flicker of guilt finally crossed her face, quickly replaced by a patronizing softness. “I’m glad you’re finally growing up. Don’t worry. Even though he’ll be my husband, it’s not like my feelings for you have completely vanished. You won’t lack for anything he gets.” “As long as you accept your place as my lover and show him the respect he deserves, things can go back to how they were.” Watching her bask in the smug satisfaction of having her cake and eating it too, I realized for the first time how brutally time can strip away a person’s facade. There was a time when Caroline, having been drugged at a high-society gala, chose to burn her own arm with a lighter rather than let another soul touch her. She used to tell me that love was sacred and exclusive. She said she only had room in her heart for me. Now, she was no different from any other spoiled, entitled heir who believed everything in the world was hers for the taking. Dustin leaned back against her chest, a picture of fragile, triumphant innocence. “I’m so sorry for taking everything from you, Gavin,” he murmured. “But Caroline and I are truly in love. Please don’t worry. In public, I’ll be her husband and you’ll be her companion, but at home, you will always be the older brother I look up to.” Caroline reached up, tenderly stroking his cheek. They flirted shamelessly right in front of me, completely unbothered. I swallowed the bile rising in my throat and turned to leave. “Gavin, wait,” Caroline called out, pointing to the bespoke suit I was wearing. It had taken over a month of meticulous fittings to complete. “I actually had that suit altered to his measurements after it was finished. Since you’ve agreed to the arrangement, take it off and give it to him.” I froze. Suddenly, it all made sense. I remembered telling her I was allergic to the specific coral embroidery she wanted on the lapel, yet she had insisted, telling me I just had to endure it for the sake of the aesthetic. I remembered how perfectly it had fit during the early stages, only to feel terribly tight and awkward when I put it on today. It was never meant for me to keep. 2. Out in the grand ballroom, Grandfather Charles was scanning the crowd. When he saw me walking toward him alone, his expression darkened. “What’s going on? Where is Caroline? The announcement is about to start, and she’s nowhere to be found.” I clenched my fists at my sides, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Grandfather, is your promise still good? The one about whoever I choose becoming the heir to the Dominic estate?” He looked at me, his eyes softening with immediate concern. “We swore it before our ancestors in the chapel, Gavin. Of course it stands. But what’s wrong? Did that girl do something to you?” Before I could reply, Caroline walked over, practically supporting Dustin, whose legs seemed too weak to carry him. “Grandfather, there’s no need to proceed with the betrothal announcement,” Caroline said, her voice ringing out clearly. “I know you wanted me to marry Gavin because he saved your life, and you wanted to repay that debt. But during our years together, I’ve done my duty. Now I’ve met the man I truly love, and I hope you will give us your blessing.” The surrounding crowd erupted into hushed whispers. Judgmental, gossiping stares locked onto us. They looked at us as if Grandfather and I were the villains, trying to force an arranged marriage and tear apart two young lovers. But the truth was, Caroline had pursued me first. She had claimed she was madly in love with me, swearing to Grandfather that she would cherish me forever. It was only to secure my future comfort within the Dominic family that Grandfather had reluctantly agreed to groom her as his successor. Yet, in just a few short years, her arrogant, self-serving nature had begun to bleed through. In reality, the Dominic family had plenty of capable heirs. Caroline had never been irreplaceable. Grandfather frowned, his gaze shifting from her determined face to Dustin’s flushed, disheveled appearance. He understood the situation instantly. “Are you absolutely sure about this?” Grandfather asked, his voice deadly calm. “There are no second chances in this life.” Caroline nodded firmly. “I am sure. I only want to be with the man I love. I won’t regret it.” Grandfather let out a quiet, heavy sigh. “Then so be it.” He turned to me. “Gavin, I have other granddaughters. Take your time, look around, and see if any of them suit you.” Before I could speak, Caroline cut in quickly. “Grandfather, even though I’ve found someone else, Gavin and I have been together for a long time. He’s still deeply attached to me. Please don’t rush him into finding someone else just yet.” Grandfather’s brow furrowed, and his voice cut through the ballroom like ice. “If you know you’ve done something shameful, then keep your mouth shut! I am still alive, and the Dominic estate is not yours to command!” Ever since we had started dating, whenever Caroline made a mistake or fell short, Grandfather had always guided her gently, solely out of respect for me. He had never humiliated her in public like this. Her face burned crimson. Suddenly, Dustin dropped to his knees on the polished floor. “It’s all my fault,” he sobbed, looking up with tears in his eyes. “I’m of humble birth, and I know I don’t belong here. It’s only natural that Gavin would hate me and want to embarrass us. Grandfather, please blame me. This is all my fault.” Caroline’s expression hardened, and she glared at me with pure venom. “I knew you were behind this! Did you honestly think that by making a scene and turning our wedding into a joke, you could force me to marry you?” “Dream on! Don’t think you can manipulate Grandfather just because you saved his life. Don’t forget where you are, Gavin. You are, and always will be, an outsider in this family.” With that, she helped Dustin up and swept out of the room. Grandfather let out a cold snort, gently patting the back of my hand. “An outsider? You are the one person who could never be an outsider here.” “I will make sure your future is taken care of.” Meeting his deeply meaningful gaze, a sense of peace washed over me. As I looked around the room, my eyes inadvertently locked with Beatrice, the fourth cousin of the Dominic family. The memories of my past life rushed back to me. 3. When I was being tortured to the brink of death in that horrific red-light district, Caroline had visited to gloat over my misery. She had even brought her wealthiest, most sadistic clients to use me. But Beatrice had quietly followed them. When I was dragged back to a private room, she had secretly slipped me a blade to defend myself. Though I was eventually caught again, Beatrice had paid a devastating price for helping me. Caroline had her legs broken and confined her to the family estate. Yet, three days after my death, Beatrice used the covert resources she had built up over the years to strike back. During a federal investigation into Caroline’s businesses, Beatrice delivered a fatal blow, forcing Caroline into a desperate flight that ended with her car careening off a cliff. Beatrice went on to inherit the Dominic empire, restructuring the entire corporate structure and rising to become a major player in government-commercial alliances. Later, she had visited my grave, holding a bouquet of my favorite flowers. It was only then that I realized a simple, kind word I had once spoken to defend her when we were younger had driven her to tear down the world for my sake. Looking at her now, seeing the quiet, guarded hope in her eyes, I made my decision. “The fourth child. Beatrice,” I murmured to Grandfather. Grandfather raised an eyebrow, a small, approving smile tugging at his lips. “She is indeed a far better choice than Caroline. I trust your judgment, Gavin.” I felt a weight lift from my chest. Now that Caroline was marrying someone else, it was time for me to move out of her penthouse. I left behind everything I had bought during our relationship, taking only my personal toiletries. But as I was heading toward the front door, the handle turned, and the newlyweds walked in, hand-in-hand. Seeing the house keys in my hand, Caroline sneered, letting out a sharp laugh. “Are you really trying to play hard to get because of what happened at the gala? Do you think this silent treatment is going to make me chase after you?” She stepped forward and snatched the keys from my hand. “Look, I was just angry. You don’t need to take it so seriously. I already told you, you’re still my lover. Put your bags down. We’re still going to live together.” With the love completely gone, I could see her clearly for what she was: an insufferably arrogant woman. I reached out to grab my keys back. “Who said I wanted—” “Caroline,” Dustin suddenly whimpered, clutching his stomach. “I’m hungry. Can we have some of that seafood risotto?” He looked at me with a lazy, triumphant smirk. “The kind Gavin used to make for you.” My heart went cold. The last time I had made seafood risotto for Caroline was six months ago. They had been sleeping together far longer than I had ever suspected. Suppressing the disgust rising inside me, I turned to walk away. But Caroline grabbed my arm with surprising force, shoving me toward the kitchen. “Dustin wants your cooking. Be a good boy and make it for him. This is your chance to show some goodwill. If he’s happy, he might let me spend more time with you.” My brow furrowed, and I slammed my hands against the sliding glass door of the kitchen. “Let me out! I don’t need your damn time!” I managed to slide the door open an inch. Slam! Caroline shoved the glass door shut with brutal force, catching my fingers in the frame. The sound of my fingernails splitting was sickening. The agony was instant. I sank to the floor, tears springing to my eyes as blood began to pool beneath my hand. Caroline frowned, stepping closer but making no move to slide the door open. “You’re not the future master of this house anymore, Gavin. You need to drop the attitude. If you want to be a lover, you have to learn to take a few bruises. Stop whining and make the risotto.” She locked the sliding door from the outside. Then, she walked back to the living room, giggling as Dustin pulled her onto his lap. With my hand trembling and blood dripping from my fingertips, I reached into my pocket with my good hand and called Grandfather. Twenty minutes later, the front door was kicked off its hinges. Grandfather marched in, flanked by the family’s security team. Taking one look at my bloodied, mangled hand, he swung his arm back and delivered a ringing slap to Caroline’s face. “With dozens of chefs and maids on the payroll, you lock my savior in a kitchen to cook for this absolute parasite? Have you lost your mind, or do you simply have zero respect for me?” Grandfather immediately ordered his men to dismiss every single staff member in the penthouse. Before leaving, he glared at her with pure disgust. “Since you don’t seem to need professional help, you can clean up your own mess from now on!” Caroline stood frozen, her eyes burning with resentment, clearly believing I had put on a show just to get her in trouble. 4. The moment we left, my phone buzzed with a text from her. I didn’t realize you were still so blind to your own position. Once Grandfather steps back and leaves the business to me, I’ll make sure you learn how to behave. I blocked her number and shut off my phone. Grandfather insisted I stay at the main estate to recover. A week later, Caroline and Dustin held their wedding. Given Dustin’s background, Grandfather refused to allow a grand, public affair. He insisted that only Caroline’s close friends and immediate family be invited, explicitly forbidding the elders of the family from attending. But when Caroline found out, she went behind his back and sent invitations to every major business partner in the city, desperate to elevate Dustin’s social standing. At the reception, Grandfather’s face turned pale as he looked around at the prominent figures whispering in the corners. “Isn’t that the boy from the spa? I had no idea Charles Dominic was so progressive. Letting his heir marry a masseur… that takes a level of tolerance most of us don’t possess.” Hearing the snickers, Grandfather clutched his chest, staring at Caroline on the stage with cold fury. Without saying a single word of blessing, he turned and walked out. The guests exchanged knowing glances, and several prominent partners quietly slipped away shortly after. Instead of reflecting on her actions, Caroline blamed me for the humiliation. The very next morning, she transferred a major corporate account—one I had been cultivating for three months—directly to Dustin. “Dustin is the husband of the heir now,” she said, tossing the paperwork onto my desk. “He needs a high-profile win to establish himself in the company. You’re just a companion now, Gavin. There’s no need for you to be in the spotlight anyway.” I had spent a month drafting the proposal, enduring countless late-night dinners and drinking myself sick to secure the client’s trust. Caroline had seen every bit of that effort. She had even held me when I was exhausted, telling me to stop pushing myself so hard. I stared at her, my voice low and dangerous. “And if I refuse to hand it over?” She tapped her fingers on the mahogany desk, calling HR into the office. “I run the day-to-day operations of Dominic Enterprises now. If you don’t like it, you can leave. Besides, with you out of the office, Dustin won’t feel so insecure.” That afternoon, she personally took Dustin to meet with the client to finalize the contract. But the client was insulted by the sudden bait-and-switch. They called Grandfather directly, stating that Dominic Enterprises was treating them like a joke, and pulled their multi-million-dollar account effective immediately. Grandfather didn’t hesitate. He stripped Caroline of her title and duties on the spot. “Get out of the office and go home,” he barked over the phone. “Beatrice is taking over your division!” Caroline dragged a weeping Dustin back to the family estate to plead her case, but Grandfather had security lock the gates, refusing to let them set foot on the property. I spent the next several hours on the phone, utilizing my personal relationships to salvage the client’s trust and win back the contract. The moment I stepped out of the office building, Caroline intercepted me, grabbing my coat. “I knew you were behind this! You set Dustin up to fail just so you could swoop in and look like the hero!” “How dare you even show your face here? You are going to apologize to Dustin right now! Tell Grandfather that you deliberately sabotaged the meeting, or I swear to God, I will never touch you again!” I laughed, a cold, mocking sound as I brushed her hand off my coat. “You might enjoy rescuing trash from the gutter, Caroline, but I have no interest in getting dirty.” Her face turned a deep, furious crimson. “After all the times he told me you saved his life, it turns out you’re just as elitist as the rest of them! You look down on him, yet here you are, trying to take the easy way out by clinging to Beatrice!” “Just wait until I take full control of this family. The first thing I do will be making you crawl on your knees to apologize to him!” She was still clinging to her delusional dream of absolute power. I didn’t bother shattering her illusions. I adjusted my cuffs and headed to the luxury auction house. Grandfather had told me to select whatever pieces I wanted for my upcoming wedding. I had barely taken my seat in the VIP section when Caroline and Dustin walked in. Her brow furrowed the moment she saw me. “What are you doing here? This auction is strictly reserved for family heirs and their spouses.” “Don’t go using my name to sneak into places you don’t belong. My husband is Dustin now.” I gave her a bored look. “This has nothing to do with you. Do us both a favor and stay away.” 5. Caroline was left speechless, her expression twisting with annoyance. Before she could speak, Dustin wrapped his arm around hers, pointing excitedly at the digital catalog on the screen. “Babe, look at that set. I love it. Can we get it?” Caroline’s expression softened instantly into doting indulgence. “If you like it, we’ll buy it. Anything to make you happy.” Dustin glanced at me, a smug smirk playing on his lips. “Gavin, you used to pity me. But look how things change. Don’t be shy—if you see something you like, just let us know. Consider it an early advance on your allowance as our companion.” I ignored the childish provocation. The first few lots were standard diamond sets—the kind of jewelry the Dominic vaults were already overflowing with. But Dustin, desperate to prove a point, kept raising his paddle. Caroline happily signed off on every purchase, basking in the attention of the room. Until the final lot of the night appeared on the stage. It was a jade pendant. My late mother’s heirloom. The moment it was announced, I raised my paddle. Dustin immediately raised his. “Eight million!” I turned to him, my eyes narrowing. “That belongs to my family. Why are you bidding on it?” Dustin tilted his head, a malicious glint in his eyes. “Because I want it, Gavin.” Caroline chimed in, her tone dismissive. “It’s just a piece of old jade, Gavin. Let him have it. I’ll buy you a diamond set to make up for it. Don’t make a scene here by fighting with Dustin.” I stared at her, my voice cold as ice. “Not happening. That pendant is coming home with me.” Caroline sneered. “Keep throwing your tantrum. Let’s see how far you get without my money.” With a flourish, she raised her paddle. “I’m placing an open-ended bid!” I stared at her in disbelief. “Have you lost your mind?” Dustin let out a delighted laugh. “I’m sorry, Gavin. Caroline just loves me too much. But tell you what—if you apologize to me properly and pour me a cup of tea, I might let you borrow it for a couple of days once I’m bored with it.” I took a slow breath, a cold smile spreading across my face. “You have to actually buy it first.” Caroline’s brow furrowed. “What is that supposed to mean?” “It means,” I said quietly, “that you don’t have the money.” A moment later, the auctioneer cleared his throat, looking incredibly uncomfortable. “Ms. Dominic, I’m terribly sorry, but this card has been declined. It appears to be frozen.” The quiet room immediately erupted into a flurry of whispers. “Did he say declined? The Dominic family’s black card?” “Is there trouble with the estate?” Caroline’s face drained of color. Flustered, she snatched several other cards from her purse and shoved them at the attendant. “Check these! Now! One of them has to work!” She tried to maintain her composure, confident it was just a technical glitch. But as the clerk shook his head after running the third card, her confidence shattered. “How is this possible?” she whispered, her hands starting to shake. “Your machines must be broken! Run them again!” Before the clerk could respond, the heavy double doors of the auction hall swung open. “There’s no need to run them again,” a calm voice announced. Beatrice walked into the room, a cool smile on her face. “I had all of your accounts frozen, sister.”

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