Category: English

I grew up pampered, always held in the palm of my family’s hand. On the first day of college, my bodyguards carried two suitcases into my dorm room. I stood at the doorway, glanced around, and said: “Keep the AC on 24/7, I’ll cover the electricity bill.” “I’m a light sleeper, so no noise after 11 PM.” “Wipe down the bathroom every time you use it, I’m a germaphobe.” “I can’t do heavy lifting. I’ll pay you $100 to pick up my packages.” My three roommates exchanged confused glances. I looked at them and added: “No offense, it’s just my first time living in a dorm, so I’m laying out the rules upfront to avoid any drama later.” Then I pulled out the welcome gifts I’d prepared: a Chanel bag for each of them. “Thanks for your understanding.” Their eyes lit up, and they exclaimed, “From now on, you’re our Lady Boss!” But then, one girl named Sophia Miller started acting up. She told people behind my back that my gifts were charity, that I looked down on her. “She thinks a little money and a few designer items can make me her slave. I might be poor, but I have pride!” Even more absurdly, my fiancé, Ethan Hayes, flew all the way back from abroad just to defend her. “Evie, can’t you dial it back a little? Sophia doesn’t come from money, how can she pay you back for such expensive gifts?” “Can you please change your arrogant attitude? Stop acting like the whole world revolves around you.” I watched him standing protectively in front of Sophia, and suddenly, I smiled. If you all think I’m a bully, then I’ll show you what a real heiress can do.

My family is well-off, and my friends always tease me, calling me an “heiress.” It’s not entirely a joke, though. After all, I have the backing of a century-old, top-tier prominent family. So when I stood at the door, seeing a dorm room smaller than my own bathroom back home, meant to house four people, my head was spinning. I only stepped inside after a bodyguard had made my bed. My three roommates were standing by, openly scrutinizing me. Their faces showed undisguised exasperation. I glanced at the line of bodyguards by the dorm door and the mountain of luggage taking up half the room. Okay, maybe it was a bit much. I sat on my freshly made bed and smiled as I greeted my new roommates. “Hi everyone, I’m Evelyn Reed. I’m from a prominent family in Los Angeles. We’ll be roommates for the next four years.” “I’ve never lived in a dorm before, so I have a few requests.” “First, the dorm AC should be set to 77°F all day. I’ll cover the electricity.” “Second, I’m a light sleeper, so no noise in the dorm after eleven o’clock.” The three of them looked awkward, their gaze screaming “high-maintenance.” I waved my hand, and a bodyguard brought in three large boxes. “These are gifts from Miss Reed for everyone.” The three girls opened the boxes and stared blankly for a long moment. Full skincare sets, Apple laptops, Chanel handbags. My demands were quite specific, so it was only right to prepare some gifts for them. It’s also a standard move in my circles. What money can buy is often far more cost-effective than owing someone a favor. “I don’t mean anything by saying all this, just want to be clear upfront to avoid any misunderstandings later.” Chloe Davis, a girl with a big personality, quickly accepted my terms. “Oh my God, I thought we were getting a princess, but we got a real princess!” “You’re so generous, I’m almost embarrassed.” I smiled. “Also, I don’t do chores or clean. I’ll pay $500 for cleaning and $100 for picking up a package.” I thought for a moment and continued: “If you’re not willing, I can always ask the dorm next door…” Chloe immediately jumped up, pulling Mia Brown, who was next to her, to her feet. “I’m willing! Of course, we insiders should be the first to interview for serving our Lady Boss!” Mia’s gaze was even more determined than my bodyguard’s. “Lady Boss, I actually know a bit of self-defense. I’ll be your protector on campus from now on!” As everyone slowly warmed up, Sophia Miller, who had been sitting in the corner, tightly clutched her gift bag, biting her lower lip. At the time, I didn’t think much of it, assuming she was just slow to warm up and a bit shy. Little did I know, this person would bring unexpected trouble and ‘surprises’ to my college life.

When did I first realize something was wrong? Girls from the next dorm room would see me in the hallway and, instead of smiling and greeting me as before, would pretend not to see me. In class, everyone except my two roommates kept their distance. I thought I was being sensitive. After all, the places I’d lived growing up had such tight security that I rarely saw neighbors. So I had no frame of reference for this kind of “cold” environment. Until one day, Chloe couldn’t hold it in anymore. I walked out of the shower, drying my hair with a towel, when Chloe suddenly pushed open the door and sat on my bed, her face looking odd. “Evie, have you heard?” “Heard what?” She hesitated, then pulled out her phone and opened a SnapChat group. Scrolling up through the chat history, a girl named Sarah Johnson had posted three messages in a row. “You guys know Evelyn Reed from Class 4? The way she showed up on the first day, bodyguards and all, really thinks she’s a princess.” “She gave her roommates skincare, but the condition was for them to be her servants. $500 for cleaning, $100 for packages. Isn’t that just using money to humiliate people?” “Sophia from the next dorm told us. She said receiving the gift made her feel awful, like she was being humiliated, but she didn’t dare refuse it because she was afraid of offending Evelyn.” After reading those, I admit, I was definitely annoyed. The replies below had already reached almost a hundred comments. Some cursed me for being a nouveau riche, others said I was a rich person with no class. Someone even passive-aggressively sent a string of candle emojis, saying: “Poor Sophia, stuck in a dorm with someone like that.” I handed the phone back to Chloe. “Sophia said all this?” “The chat logs say it was her, but Sophia’s still acting innocent in the group!” Chloe was furious. I scrolled down further. Sophia had posted, feigning distress: “I didn’t mean for everyone to know, I just complained a bit privately to Sarah. Please don’t attack Evelyn, let’s not cause her any trouble.” Chloe rolled her eyes. “Pfft! ‘Privately complained’ and it spread across three classes?” I didn’t say anything. Chloe thought I was angry and added: “Evie, don’t worry about it. These types are just jealous of others’ success. If you want to deal with her, I’ll help you!” I shook my head. “No need. It’s too minor to bother with.” The next morning, on my way to class, I deliberately walked past Sophia’s seat. She was looking down, flipping through a book. I didn’t say anything, just sat in the empty seat next to her. She stiffened. The few girls sitting nearby also looked up and glanced at me. I opened my phone, pulled up that screenshot, and pushed it toward her. “Explain this.” Sophia glanced at the screen, quickly pushed the phone back, and whispered: “I… I just felt a bit uncomfortable, so I complained a few times, it was all just a joke…” I took my phone back and leaned against the chair. “You accepted my skincare, Apple laptop, and Chanel bag, then turned around and told people behind my back that it was charity, that I was using money to humiliate you?” Her eyes quickly reddened. The students around us were already looking our way. Sophia suddenly raised her hand to cover her face, her shoulders trembling, her voice tearful: “Evelyn Reed, what did I ever do to offend you? Why do you have to corner me like this?” She sniffed, then looked up, her eyes showing a mix of grievance and defiance. “You gave me such expensive things. I know you’re rich, but you know my family’s situation, how can I ever pay you back?” “I didn’t even dare use them. They’re just sitting in my closet, and looking at them every day terrifies me. What’s wrong with me complaining a bit to Sarah? Am I not allowed to have feelings?” I sat there silently, watching her performance. Sophia simply stood up, her chair scraping loudly across the floor. “Yes, I’m poor, so I should be eternally grateful for your gifts?” “But who are you to condescendingly decide the nature of our relationship? You humiliated my pride with your money, am I not allowed to feel uncomfortable?” After she finished speaking, her tears fell even harder. The students nearby started whispering to each other. “Evelyn Reed, don’t be too much. Just because you have money doesn’t mean you can bully your classmates!” My voice was flat. “Sophia, done crying?” Her sobs paused. “First, if you felt the gifts were too expensive and you were uneasy accepting them, then bring them back to me tomorrow.” “Second, you think I’m using money to make you a servant, but why didn’t you feel humiliated when you accepted the money for chores?” She opened her mouth, tears still streaming, but couldn’t say anything. I stood up and adjusted my jacket. “I have the SnapChat screenshots saved. I advise you not to push it.” I scanned the surrounding students who were watching. “I don’t care if they believe you, but next time, I won’t be so easy to deal with.” After my warning, she and those in the group chat were quiet for two days. But a week later, I received a FaceTime call from my fiancé, Ethan Hayes.

Ethan is my fiancé. Our families have been close for generations. When we were ten, our parents had dinner together and basically decided our future on the spot. If you scroll up our SnapChat history, the last message before this was “Happy New Year” from months ago. “Evie, is Sophia your roommate?” “You know her?” “She’s a scholarship student my family has sponsored since high school. She called me crying for a long time a few days ago.” I picked at my nail, casually asking: “And?” “She said you gave her very expensive things, and she didn’t dare refuse for fear of being isolated. Later, she mentioned in the dorm that she felt a lot of pressure, and then you gave her a hard time in class.” Ethan sighed, his tone reproachful: “Evie, her family isn’t well-off. Those things are a burden to her. Can you just tone it down a bit? Just interact normally, don’t make such a show.” “I’m telling you this for your own good. Your personality makes it too easy to offend people.” I pretty much understood. Sophia dared to spread rumors behind my back because she had someone backing her up. But she got one thing wrong. Ethan Hayes, he wasn’t in a position to lecture me. I found it amusing. “Ethan, you should know, if I truly wanted to target someone, she wouldn’t even be able to get into Los Angeles.” Ethan was choked up. He was about to speak, but I hung up the phone. Someone who hadn’t bothered to send a holiday greeting in ten years was calling me from overseas just to lecture me over a scholarship student. I tossed my phone onto the table. Chloe leaned over, her eyes wide with curiosity. “Evie, who was that?” “An arrogant idiot.” The next afternoon, Ethan was leaning against his car by the school gate. He was impeccably dressed in a suit, his features carrying the cultivated air of someone accustomed to luxury. Sophia stood beside him, head bowed, eyes red, looking utterly aggrieved. As I walked out of the school gate, Ethan stepped forward and blocked my path. “Evie, let’s talk.” I glanced at the curious stares around us and simply hummed in agreement. In the cafe next to the school, Sophia sat beside Ethan. She kept her eyes downcast, her fingers twisting the hem of her shirt. Ethan got straight to the point: “Evie, what I said on the phone yesterday might not have been clear enough, so I’m telling you face-to-face today.” “Sophia hasn’t had it easy. She fought tooth and nail to get into this university. Whether it’s those gifts or the way you speak, it’s all pressure for her.” I leaned back in my chair, took a sip of my lemon water, and remained silent. Seeing no response from me, Ethan’s brow furrowed even deeper. “You grew up pampered by your family, so you can’t understand the struggles of ordinary people. But since you’re my fiancée, I hope you can show some empathy.” “Sophia has cried to me several times, saying she’s afraid to speak or move in the dorm, terrified of upsetting you again.” Sophia looked up, her voice trembling: “Ethan, please don’t say anymore. Evie wasn’t targeting me. I’m just too sensitive, it’s my fault…” As she spoke, tears welled up again, but she quickly wiped them away with her sleeve, her face still defiant. Ethan’s expression darkened even further. When he turned to me, his voice held anger: “Evie, look at what you’ve driven her to! Can’t you just apologize to her?” I finally put down my cup and looked at Ethan seriously. “Ethan, how old are you this year?” He paused. “What?” “Twenty-five, right?” I chuckled softly. “A twenty-five-year-old man, swayed by a young girl’s few soft words, flying all the way from abroad to stand up for her. Don’t you find that ridiculous?” Ethan’s face darkened. “Evelyn Reed, what is your attitude?” I tilted my head, my gaze sweeping past him to Sophia. “Sophia, I’m asking you one last time: did I bully or humiliate you?” My voice was calm. Sophia bit her lip. “You… you gave them in front of the whole dorm. I didn’t dare refuse…” I scoffed. “You didn’t dare refuse, but then you turned around and told everyone I was giving you charity and humiliating you?” “Fine. If you didn’t dare refuse, then give the items back to me. Go get them now, I’ll wait.” Sophia’s face turned pale. “What? You don’t want to give them back?” I tilted my head, looking at her. “Or have you already opened and used that skincare set? Did you boot up the Apple laptop? Did you swatch the lipstick kit?” Sophia’s tears welled up again. She turned to Ethan, her voice tearful: “Ethan, I didn’t… I didn’t open them. I didn’t even touch the packaging…” Ethan reached out and patted her shoulder, then turned and glared at me. “Evelyn Reed, that’s enough! How much is a skincare set? Do you really have to be so aggressive?” “Sophia’s from a less fortunate background, what’s wrong with her being a bit sensitive? Can’t you be more magnanimous and understanding?” His words made me laugh, and my eyes turned cold. “Ethan, I used real money to buy harmony in the dorm, to ensure four years of peace for four people. Am I in the wrong for that?” Ethan took a deep breath, trying to control his emotions. “Evie, no matter what, your condescending attitude is truly problematic. You’ve always been…” “My childhood pampering is a privilege my family affords me. I don’t owe her anything.” Ethan suddenly stood up. “Evelyn Reed! Don’t be too much! I came here with good intentions to mediate, and you’re making it so awkward?” “Sophia is just a girl. Can your conscience really be clear after humiliating her in front of so many people?” Sophia tugged on his sleeve, sobbing softly: “Ethan, it’s okay, let’s just go. It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have told you…” Ethan glared at me, his chest heaving several times, then suddenly picked up the coffee in front of him and splashed it on me. “Evelyn Reed, I’ll make you beg Sophia for forgiveness.” I was stunned for a few seconds by the coffee splash. When I looked up at them, Sophia’s eyes held undisguised triumph. Coming back to my senses, I blinked hard, letting my eyes redden. Then I took out my phone, snapped a selfie, and sent it to the family group chat with a tearful voice message. “Daddy, Ethan hit me because of a scholarship student! My eyes are all swollen from crying~” Ethan still scoffed from across the table. “Our families go way back! Do you really think selling a sob story will get me punished? You really think you’re a princess!” Three. Two. One. The urgent screech of tires came from outside, followed by the sound of the door being violently pushed open. “Who’s tired of living, daring to lay a hand on my darling?!”

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At my eighteenth wedding rite with my fiance, everyone was taken away by my adopted sister again. When the temple herald came hurrying over, his voice was anxious and edged with impatience. “Lyra’s stomach illness has flared up again. The king and queen have gone with her to Apollo’s temple for treatment. Handle the wedding yourself. It has been canceled so many times anyway. You have experience.” Lina, the beloved songstress of the Muse temple and the closest friend I had grown up with, clicked her tongue. “Can your wedding vows possibly matter more than Lyra’s pain? She almost fainted from it, and you still expect us to stay here? When did you become so cruel?” As for my fiance, Phaethon, the youngest chariot commander under Ares, he did not even send anyone to explain in person. He only had an attendant deliver a word. [The wedding is postponed. Another time.] Another time. I repeated those words over and over in my heart. He had dismissed me with those words eighteen times. A laugh tugged at the corner of my mouth. Suddenly, all of it felt utterly pointless. “Moirai.” “Cut every thread of fate between me and them.” A familiar voice came from the depths of the temple, like a spindle turning, like the Fates whispering. “As you command. Cleione, daughter of fate, every character’s bond to your golden thread has been severed.” “In three days, they will lose everything they possess because of you.” “Including their lives.” — Watching the three-day countdown appear on the Loom of Fate, I took the bronze staff the priest handed me and walked up to the wedding altar covered in violets. My wedding, and yet the altar was filled with Lyra’s favorite flowers. How laughable. “My apologies, everyone. Today’s wedding rite is canceled.” The nobles and priests below exchanged glances. No one asked a single question. “I knew it would be canceled. After all these years, not one of her weddings, big or small, has ever gone through. If I were the elder princess of this kingdom, I wouldn’t even show my face.” “The whole royal family dotes on the younger one. If it were me, why would I keep fighting my own sister? I would just give him to her. At least then I wouldn’t be a laughingstock across the entire city-state, and I might even earn a reputation for generosity.” “What do you know? The elder princess is no ordinary woman. Whenever Phaethon rejects her, the Phaethon family’s warships sink the next day, and their armories catch fire. After losing several cities testing it, he finally settled down and agreed to marry her.” I left under everyone’s pitying stares. As I listened to their whispers, the curve of my mouth turned sharp with irony. This time, it would not be as simple as a few sunken warships. After changing out of my ceremonial robes and returning to the palace, I meant to gather a few things and leave. But just as I reached the door, I ran straight into a group of people returning with Lyra at their center, talking and laughing around her. The moment they saw me, every smile vanished. Anger rose in Phaethon’s eyes, and his voice carried open blame. “Cleione, why didn’t you explain properly when you canceled the wedding? If you don’t make things clear, that’s your fault. Now everyone will start suspecting it was because of Lyra again.” My father, the king, curled his lip and ordered, “Cleione, you handled this badly. We never had to worry about temple announcements for the previous cancellations. This time you have disappointed me. Go swear before the city-state at once and say it was your own willful behavior that offended Hera.” Lina immediately took out a speaking stone engraved with the mark of the Muses. “I’ll have the bards and gate scribes spread the word right away. There is still time for Cleione to admit fault. Then we can have people in the market curse her a little more, and no one will speculate about Lyra.” Faced with their accusations, I said nothing. I only looked silently at the threads of fate before me, visible to no one but me. Two days left. Then they would be finished. “Cleione, why are you standing there in a daze?” Phaethon walked up to me, his voice thick with impatience. “Let me tell you, if you don’t fix this properly, I can’t promise when the next wedding rite will be.” Lyra finally spoke, soft and fragile. “It’s all my fault. I delayed Brother Phaethon’s and Sister’s wedding. I ruined everything.” “There are still auspicious days at Hera’s temple this month. Please don’t postpone it again…” Before she could finish, she began coughing. Phaethon rushed over at once and rubbed her back. “This isn’t your fault. Don’t overthink it. Your sister will never be able to leave me in this lifetime. It makes no difference when we marry.” “Then you’ve overestimated yourself.” At last, I spoke my first words in a cold voice. Several faces froze. I lifted the bundle in my hand. “I’m leaving.” The words had barely fallen when, in the next second, a sharp slap rang through the entire palace hall.

My head tilted to one side. I gave a self-mocking smile. My mother’s hand was still trembling with anger. “You still dare to make a scene? We spoiled you too much all these years. How did such a perfectly good child become so willful and domineering?” “And you want to leave? Leave for where? Are you trying to stir up gossip across the city and make everyone think we favor one child and mistreat you? Cleione, when will you learn to be sensible? How did I give birth to a child like you? You can’t compare to even half of Lyra!” The taste of blood spread through my mouth. I licked the corner of my lips. Yes. In the past, every time, I would make a scene. Because I could not understand. I could not understand why, when Lyra had clearly broken the sacred cup Father brought back from Delphi, they insisted I had smashed it. I could not understand why, even with the temple’s water mirror recording everything, they refused to believe I had not pushed Lyra down the white stone steps. Even the flowers I offered to Aphrodite, which triggered Lyra’s allergy, became proof that I had deliberately bullied her. This was not the first time Mother had struck me. The last time was only two days ago. Lyra wanted to wear my wedding robe, and I refused. Then she suddenly fainted. Mother came up and shoved me, then used ceremonial shears to cut apart the white gauze robe I had waited half a year for. Because of Lyra, my own mother and I had nearly become enemies. So I made scenes. I wanted everyone to judge who was right. But this time, I truly had not made a scene. I was the only daughter of fate in this world. Only those connected to me could receive the blessing of the golden thread granted by the three Fates. On the second day after my parents gave birth to me, the Shen royal family, whose treasury had been empty and whose kingdom stood on the verge of collapse, suddenly discovered an entire gold mine beneath the sea and became the wealthiest city-state in the Aegean. Even Father’s liver disease, which Apollo’s priests had declared incurable, healed by some miracle. Because Lina had been my friend since childhood, the old scar on her face gradually disappeared, her voice grew clearer and brighter, and she eventually became the most dazzling songstress in the Muse temple. Even kings were willing to offer gold for the sound of her lyre. As for Phaethon. He had once been nothing more than a petty merchant in the market, selling fake bronze wares. He was chased by city guards and beaten by his rivals. Then he saved me when I got lost in the night market, and I fell in love with him at first sight. From then on, he built his own fleet and army. His business prospered, his battles never failed, and at last he became the most valued chariot commander under Ares. For more than twenty years, they held me like a treasure in their palms. Phaethon, especially, cherished me as if I were the apple of his eye. They also gained everything they wanted because of me. But later, Lyra was brought back to the palace. And everyone changed. Father ordered in a heavy voice, “Someone, take away all her things. She is not to carry a single item from the palace.” “Cleione, if you want to leave, fine. But this time, no one will come coaxing you back. Once you leave, we will hold a city assembly before Athena’s temple and sever our parent-child ties with you. From then on, you will no longer be our daughter.” They did not even let me take one piece of clothing before they pushed me out the door. Phaethon sighed and quietly handed me the key seal to a small shrine-house. “You can stay in this cottage. Cleione, we’re truly tired. We don’t want to keep indulging your tantrums.” “How good it would have been if the person I saved back then had been Lyra.” I gave a cold scoff. “You can marry her now.” Phaethon sighed helplessly. “There you go again. Cleione, you know I swore before Hera that I would marry you, and I will not break my word.” “Lyra is a pure, kind girl. I won’t allow you to toss her around in your mouth like some object. Don’t let me hear you say that again.” He turned and walked up the steps. I threw the key seal onto the ground and was about to leave. Lyra suddenly rushed over and grabbed my sleeve. “Sister, don’t go. I shouldn’t have longed for warmth that doesn’t belong to me. I’m not worthy.” “Don’t leave. I should be the one to go. I’ll leave the palace right now…” I knew exactly what Lyra was planning. So I simply stood there and let her clutch me while she pretended to cry. But when she saw that I did not push her away as I used to, she immediately began struggling for breath and fainted at my feet. “Lyra!” “Call Apollo’s priest! Lyra, my daughter!” Everyone rushed over in panic and surrounded her. Phaethon’s eyes were vicious as he seized me by the throat. “Cleione, you still dare lay a hand on Lyra? Do you think I truly can’t bear to hurt you?” So this was what it felt like to laugh when words failed you. I had not even bothered to touch her, and somehow it had still become me attacking her. “Phaethon, I hope none of you regret this later.” “Guards!” Father roared, pointing at me. “Lock her in the underground shrine room and punish her according to family law!”

The underground shrine room was damp and dim. This was the second time I had been locked inside. The first time was still fresh in my memory. It was because I discovered Lyra sneaking into Phaethon’s bedchamber in the middle of the night. I lost my temper on the spot and caught her red-handed on Phaethon’s couch. But in the end, she sobbed that old trauma had made her sleepwalk. She had no idea why she had entered Phaethon’s chamber. She only felt safe there. She had not done it on purpose. My parents and Phaethon believed that explanation without question. Phaethon even told her gently that if she was frightened, she could come to him anytime. Back then, my love for Phaethon was at its deepest. I would not even allow female attendants near him. Other than low-ranking servants, there could not be a single young woman in the entire commander’s residence. So I slapped Lyra across the face, and my parents locked me in this underground shrine room. For seven whole days, they gave me only one bowl of thin porridge a day. Only after I was starved into a daze and agreed to apologize to Lyra did they let me out. This time, however, they clearly did not intend to merely starve me for a few days. When Father came in carrying a cane soaked in pepper wine, Phaethon came with him. “According to royal family law, you should receive thirty lashes. But Lyra felt sorry for you and knelt to beg me to replace the whip with a cane. Since a cane is less forceful than a leather whip, you will receive fifty strokes.” Crack. The cane struck my body, and a red welt rose at once. Father struck me more than a dozen times. The swollen marks gradually split open. Every blow after that carried a numbing, burning agony. I thought of what they had said, that Lyra had begged for the cane. It must have been soaked in pepper wine. “Apologize to your sister!” “Will you apologize or not?” Father could not get the answer he wanted, so his anger only grew. After fifty strokes, my entire back and both arms were covered in wounds. Each gash gaped open, flesh turned outward, thin lines of blood sliding down my spine onto the floor. Pain had numbed my whole body. I curled into the corner, gasping for breath. After Father finished beating me, he threw down the cane and left. Before he went, he left one sentence behind. “Stubborn to the end.” Phaethon walked over and crouched in front of me. “Lyra prepared medicine and clothing for you. Cleione, Lyra has always treated you with respect and courtesy. As her elder sister, and as her brother-in-law, we should both take better care of her. Why must you be so petty and filthy-minded?” “Once you’ve thought it through, hurry up and apologize. Stop making us angry.” He shook out the clothes Lyra had prepared for me. Then, with what he thought was care, he laid them over my back. The instant the fabric touched my body full of wounds, it felt as though I had fallen into salt water. I curled up from the pain. “So delicate.” Phaethon curled his lip and stood. “Lyra turns pale from pain every time she falls ill, and even she doesn’t exaggerate like this.” He left. It took me a long time to catch my breath. “Moirai…” The voice of the Loom of Fate rang beside my ear. “Daughter of fate, would you like to activate pain shielding?” “No.” I gritted my teeth. “I want to speed up the severing of the fate threads.” “Very well. Acceleration has begun. At noon tomorrow, everyone connected to you and blessed by you will suffer the backlash.”

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My eighteenth bonding ceremony with Kael Frost was canceled—again—because of my adopted sister. Mother opened a mind-link, her voice flooding into my head laced with agitation: “Briar’s having another episode. Stomach cramps, bad ones. Your father and I are taking her to the infirmary. Handle the ceremony yourself—you’ve canceled enough of these by now, you’re better at it than anyone.” My lifelong best friend and maid of honor, Liora, was even blunter: “Is your ceremony really more important than Briar’s life? She’s in so much pain she’s nearly blacking out—are you seriously expecting us to stay for the ceremony? Selene, when did you become so heartless?” And my fiancé. I waited a full twenty minutes. All he sent was this: Ceremony’s off. We’ll reschedule. We’ll reschedule. I rolled those words over and over in my mind. He’d used the exact same phrase to dismiss me eighteen times. A bitter laugh slipped through my lips. Suddenly, none of it mattered anymore. The moon still hung at the edge of the sky, pale as a sliver of bone about to shatter. I closed my eyes and silently addressed that moon— Sever it. Every bond I share with them—let it end. Right now. Moonlight flashed behind my eyelids, and a line of silver text crystallized at the center of my vision, visible only to me: Connections severed. Countdown: 72 hours. When the time expires, all who were once bonded to you shall return everything—including their lives. … I opened my eyes, drew a deep breath, picked up the microphone, and walked onto the ceremonial stage. Violets. Everywhere. My bonding ceremony, blanketed in Briar’s favorite flower. Laughable. “My apologies, everyone. Tonight’s ceremony is canceled.” The Northern Realm’s aristocrats exchanged glances, though none looked particularly surprised. “Expected, isn’t it? How many times have they tried over the years? Not once has it actually gone through. If I were the Graves heiress, I’d have stopped showing up ages ago.” “The entire Graves clan dotes on that adopted little sister. Why bother competing? Stepping aside would at least let Selene keep her dignity.” “You don’t understand—Frost operations fall apart without Selene. They’ve tested it more than once. Every time Kael has a falling-out with her, the clan’s holdings take a nosedive. That’s the only reason he hasn’t dropped her.” I descended the stage under the pitying, faintly mocking gazes of the crowd. My lips twitched. This time, it wouldn’t be a mere dip in holdings. I changed into plain clothes and returned to the Graves estate, wanting only to grab a few things before leaving for good. But the moment I pushed open the front door, a procession of people swept into the foyer around Briar, all chattering and laughing. The instant they saw me, every smile vanished at once. Kael’s dark gray eyes clouded with anger, his tone thick with undisguised reproach: “Selene, why didn’t you give any explanation when you canceled the ceremony? You said nothing—now people are going to blame Briar again.” Father cast me a cold glance. “You handled this appallingly. In the past, cleaning up a canceled ceremony never required our involvement. Today, you have thoroughly disappointed me. Issue a statement immediately—say you canceled on a whim, and that it had nothing to do with anyone else.” Liora already had her phone out. “I’ll have the publicist contact the major outlets. If Selene puts out a statement now, we can still get ahead of it. We’ll plant a few narratives online, redirect the discourse toward her—then nobody will even think of Briar…” I didn’t respond to any of it. Not a single word. I simply stared at the silver countdown hovering in my vision. Remaining: 2 days, 18 hours. When the time came, they would lose everything they had. “Selene, what the hell are you staring at?” Kael stepped closer, his impatience reaching its peak. “I’m warning you—if you don’t handle this properly, I can’t guarantee when we’ll schedule the next ceremony.” I lifted my eyes and looked at him for one brief moment. That face I’d once fallen for at first sight now looked like a stranger’s. It didn’t matter. There wasn’t going to be a next time. —

“That’s enough.” Briar chimed in at the perfect moment, her voice a breathy wisp, her slender fingers tugging at Kael’s sleeve. “It’s all my fault… I’m the reason Selene’s ceremony fell through again… There are still auspicious dates this month—please, stop pushing it back…” Halfway through her sentence she broke into a fit of coughing. Kael turned instantly, his palm settling on her back, patting gently. “This has nothing to do with you. Don’t overthink it. Your sister can’t live without me—it makes no difference when we hold the ceremony.” “That’s where you’re wrong.” I finally spoke. My voice was so calm it startled even me. Every expression in the room froze at once. I gave the backpack in my hand a little shake. “I’m leaving.” The words had barely left my mouth. Crack— Mother’s palm struck my face with full force, the sharp sound echoing through the foyer. My head snapped to the side. I tasted iron on my tongue. Her hand was still trembling, her nails digging into her own palm. “You dare cause another scene! All these years we’ve spoiled you rotten. How did a perfectly good child turn out so insufferably willful?” “Leave? And go where? So you can set the whole Northern Realm buzzing with gossip, make everyone think we’re playing favorites? Selene, when are you going to grow up? How could I have raised a daughter like you—you’re not worth half of what Briar is!” The taste of blood spread through my mouth. Yes. Every time before, I’d made a scene. Because I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand why, when it was Briar who shattered Father’s prized ancient fang crown, they decided I was the one who’d smashed it. I didn’t understand why, even with the estate’s security footage, they refused to believe I hadn’t pushed Briar down the stone stairs. Even the moonflowers I’d planted in the garden that triggered Briar’s allergies had been entered into evidence as proof that I was trying to murder her. And this wasn’t the first time Mother had raised her hand. The last time was only two days ago. Briar had wanted to wear the custom ceremonial gown I’d spent six months preparing for the bonding. I said no. And then—right on cue—she fainted. Mother charged at me, shoved me so hard I stumbled, then grabbed a pair of scissors and, right before my eyes, shredded that gown I’d waited half a year for into ribbons. Over Briar, she and I had been driven nearly to the point of drawing knives. So the old me had fought back with everything I had—demanding that someone, anyone, tell me I was right. But this time, I truly didn’t want to fight anymore. Because I’d finally seen it clearly. I am the incarnation of the Moon Goddess. In all the Northern Realm, only those who forged an emotional bond with me could receive the blessings the Goddess bestowed. The day after I was born, the Graves family—teetering on the brink of extinction—were struck overnight by a string of miraculous windfalls. Their power swelled at breakneck speed until they secured their place as the most powerful clan in the Northern Realm. Father’s chronic illness, already deteriorated to a terminal stage, vanished as if it had never existed. Even the elder who treated him couldn’t explain it. My best friend Liora, inseparable from me since childhood, grew more stunning with each passing year and she became Hollywood’s first werewolf to win Best Actress. And Kael. He had been nothing more than a stray low-rank gray wolf roaming the border territories. No parents. No pack. No surname. He scraped by running a market stall at the border bazaar, hounded by enforcement patrols, beaten up by rival vendors. Until one night, he found me—a little girl lost in a night market. I stared up at his handsome face. In that single instant, I fell for him. From that moment on, he awakened as a White Wolf Alpha, his abilities and influence soaring at an impossible rate. He established the Frost Clan, never once losing a business deal or a territorial dispute, and today stood as the man closest to the Alpha King’s throne in all the Northern Realm. All he had to do was complete the bonding ceremony with me—make me his Luna—and the throne would be his. For over twenty years, they’d held me in the palm of their hands, showered me with love. Kael, above all, had treasured me like something precious. Because of me, they’d gotten everything they ever wanted. And then Briar was brought into the Graves household. And everyone changed. —

Briar performed a textbook-perfect faint right in front of me. The arc of her body falling backward was precisely calibrated—graceful enough to land squarely in the arms of the people who’d rushed over at the commotion. Before anyone could even ask a question, Kael had already stepped in front of me—five fingers clamped around my throat, slamming me against the corridor’s stone wall. “Selene, did you hit her again?” His pupils blazed with the dark-gold pressure unique to an Alpha. “Do you actually think I won’t lay a hand on you?” I didn’t even get the chance to deny it. “Guards!” Father’s roar erupted at the far end of the corridor. “Take her away—lock her in the dungeon. Punish her according to clan law!” The dungeon. Damp, dark, and devoid of sunlight all year round. This was my second time being thrown in here. The memory of the first was still knife-sharp. That night, I’d discovered Briar slipping silently into Kael’s bedroom after dark. When I pushed open the door, she was perched on the edge of his bed, her clothes half undone. I confronted them on the spot. But Briar, eyes brimming with tears, offered her defense: she said she’d nearly been snatched by a rogue wolf as a child, which had given her severe sleepwalking. Subconsciously, she explained, she felt safe near Kael. It wasn’t intentional. My parents and Kael believed her without question. Kael even told her gently that if she was ever scared, she could come find him anytime. Back then, my love for him burned at its most intense. I’d been so possessive that I’d issued an order—no female was to hold a position anywhere in the Frost Clan’s inner circle. So that day I’d slapped Briar across the face without a moment’s hesitation. The price was seven days in this dungeon, with nothing but a bowl of cold porridge each day. They didn’t let me out until I was so starved I could barely stay conscious—and agreed to apologize to Briar. This time, they clearly didn’t intend to stop at starving me for a few days. The heavy iron door groaned open. Father walked in, a cane rod gripped in his fist. Kael followed behind him. “Per the Graves family code, the sentence is thirty lashes.” Father’s voice was frigid. “However, Briar took pity on you and begged me on her knees to use the cane instead of the silver whip. Since the cane is lighter than the whip, the count is raised to fifty.” Crack— The first blow landed across my back. A livid purple-red welt swelled up instantly. After a dozen or so, my skin split open. Every strike after that came with a corrosive, bone-deep burn—mercury. The cane Briar had so “kindly” begged them to substitute had been soaked through with mercury. I could barely hold my human form. When the fifty lashes were done, my entire back and arms were a raw, bloody mess. Thin rivulets of blood traced my spine downward, pooling on the stone slab beneath my feet. My body had long since slipped beyond my control, warped into something half-wolf, half-human—a grotesque thing. I curled up in the corner, gasping in great heaving breaths, shaking all over. Father tossed the cane aside, dropped a single remark—”Utterly incorrigible”—and strode out. Kael crouched down in front of me and unfolded a bundle of clothes. “These are the fresh clothes and ointment Briar prepared for you. Selene, she’s always been respectful toward you. As her older sister, you should be looking after her. Why do you insist on assuming the worst about her?” He shook out the garments and “thoughtfully” draped them over my blood-soaked back. The instant the fabric touched the open wounds— It was as if my entire body had been plunged into boiling brine. The pain hit so hard I curled into a ball in a single convulsion, my spine arching, my lengthened wolf-claws gouging into the cracks between the floor stones. “Always so dramatic. Briar goes deathly pale from her episodes and still doesn’t carry on the way you do.” He stood up, tossed out that contemptuous remark, and walked away. The echo of the iron door slamming faded slowly into nothing. It was a long time before I clawed back even a thread of breath. Moonlight filtered through the single narrow slit above, pale and silent. I closed my eyes and silently addressed that moon— Accelerate. I want to sever all connections faster. Silver text materialized in the darkness: Acceleration engaged. Tomorrow at noon, twelve o’clock sharp, all repercussions will descend. —

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I ran through the toxic haze. My lungs were on fire. I didn’t care. Six hours ago, my mate’s voice had cut through our matebond: “Clara—rogues everywhere, come save me!” So I came. Briars tore my skin. Poison seeped into the cuts. I felt each one—and kept running. My legs stopped feeling like mine somewhere back there. I didn’t care about that either. “Luna—” My subordinate’s voice cracked through the link. “Get out of there! He was never there.” “He’s with Tessa. Watching her try on your wedding dress.” The words stopped me cold. The ground didn’t move with me. Neither did the haze. Just me. Frozen. “CLARA—RUN!” My wolf’s scream ripped through my chest. I turned. Too late. Emerald eyes ignited in the gloom. A blur of fur and fangs erupted from the dark. I threw my arm up— Teeth sank into my throat! … The night stretched into a mindless eternity. Everything dissolved into a blur of blood, rain, and bone-chilling screams. By the time the first cold rays of dawn hit my face, I was a broken, blood-stained mess. But I was alive. And the Clara who loved Xavier was dead. Bzzz. My phone vibrated. A text from Thomas, my most loyal sentinel. “Luna, I’m sorry. Alpha Xavier has been in contact with her the entire time. Last night, he rented out the Peak Penthouse. He’s throwing her a welcome-back gala.” Then came the video. In the clip, Xavier stood before a grand, gilded mirror. He was adjusting a delicate white veil over a woman’s soft brown curls. He was smiling—that same tender, breathless smile he used to give me before we mated. I checked the timestamp. 9:47 PM. While the rogues were tearing the meat from my bones, he was playing dress-up with his ex. My thumb hovered over the screen, a bead of blood from my mangled hand dripping onto the image, staining Tessa’s perfect, radiant smile. It also shattered the lie I’d spent months forcing myself to believe. Six months ago, Xavier had knelt by my dying father’s bedside. He’d sworn on his wolf’s life that he would never see her again. Ended up…a Lie. Every word out of his mouth had been a calculated lie. I dialed his number. It rang for a long, agonizing minute before he finally picked up. “Clara?” His voice was deep, smooth. In the background, I could hear it—the faint, elegant swell of a violin. “Where are you?” I asked, my voice a hollow shell. “I told you,” He sighed, that patronizing tone creeping in. “Rogues blocked the pass. I’m at the border cabin.” “Are you hurt?” “No. Just a weak signal.” He paused, his voice dropping into a low, practiced hum of concern. “Why are you still awake? Are you scared of the storm?” “Come on, Clara. Don’t be so dramatic. You’re stronger than that.” Stronger? I looked down at my leg. The wound still burned. Blood and mud caked the the empty place where the flesh had been. “Does the cabin have a live orchestra, Xavier?” I whispered. The line went dead silent. “The cabin owner has an old record player,” He chuckled, mocking. “Are you really calling to micromanage me, Clara? I’ve had a long day and I’m not doing this with you.” The classic move. Make me out to be the crazy one. The paranoid mate. Anything to escape accountability. “I’m not fighting, Xavier.” “Then be a good girl and go to sleep,” he said, his voice softening again, though the edge remained. “I’ll bring you those lemon scones from Magnolia’s tomorrow. Your favorite.” Magnolia’s lemon scones. They were Tessa’s absolute favorite. I was highly allergic to them. He hadn’t just forgotten—he had never cared enough to remember. “Okay,” I said. It wasn’t compromise. It was giving up. “Love you. Sleep tight.” The line went dead. I stared at the black screen until a notification popped up. It was a new post from Tessa’s private account. A close-up of Xavier’s hand—unmistakable with his heavy, obsidian Alpha ring—tracing the curve of her collarbone. Her caption: He promised that no matter who he married, I would always be his first priority.

I dragged myself into the Peak Penthouse. My jacket was soaked through, sticking to my skin like ice, and my muddy boots squeaked with every step. The security guard stopped me twice, but when I showed him my wedding photo with Xavier, he let me through with a look of pity. I headed for the VIP elevators. Before I could arrive, the doors slid open. Xavier stood inside. Italian suit. Top buttons undone—that effortless, rugged thing he did. Tessa was draped against his chest. White silk dress. Delicate curls. A veil falling from her hair. That was my wedding dress. “Xavier, my feet hurt,” she whimpered, pouting. Without hesitation, my proud Alpha husband knelt on the cold elevator floor, gently lifting her ankle. “I told you not to wear those heels, princess.” “But they’re pretty!” She giggled, running her fingers through his hair. “You used to love watching me dance in them.” “That was before,” he murmured, his voice dripping with affection. “Now, if you hurt yourself, I’ll have to lock you in my room.” Then Xavier carried her heels in one hand, his other arm securely wrapped around her waist. I stood behind a massive concrete pillar, watching them. A sudden wave of nausea hit me, so violent I had to press my hand against the cold stone to keep from collapsing. Then my eyes met Tessa’s. Her gaze swept over my wild hair, my muddy face, and the dried blood crusting on my leg. A tiny, cruel smirk played on her lips. “Xavier,” she said, her voice echoing in the quiet garage. “Look at that poor girl over there. She looks like a filthy stray.” Xavier didn’t even turn his head. He didn’t waste a single glance on the woman who had almost died in a rogue-infested forest for him. “Don’t look at that trash, Tessa,” he said, pulling her closer to his side. “You’ll ruin your eyes.” Trash… I laughed bitterly—silently. That was it. That was what I’d nearly died for. I watched they walked toward the revolving glass doors. Tessa paused, “Xavier, wasn’t yesterday your Mate Anniversary? If you spent the whole night with me, won’t Clara be mad?” Xavier’s footsteps halted. “Why are you even bringing her up?” His voice dripping with irritation. “I just don’t want her to be jealous. She always keeps such a tight leash on you.” “She’s just bored,” Xavier sneered. “Aside from hovering over me, what else does she even do?” He tossed Tessa’s heels to a valet and yanked off his tie to wipe his hands— the same silk tie I’d hand-picked and given him just yesterday morning. “And yet, you still chose her to be your mate.” Tessa pouted, her voice trailing into a whine. “I only mated her cause she was easy. No drama. The pack wanted a trophy Luna, so I gave ’em one.” With that, he tossed the silk tie into a trash can. He had promised to wear it close to his heart. Now, it was buried under garbage. “Tessa, remember this,” he said, pulling her close. “A mate bond is just about politics and pack duty.” “She is fit to be the Luna. But you are the only one I want to protect.” Tessa beamed, leaning up to kiss his cheek. Then Xavier pulled her flush against him and kissed her back hard. A dull ache flared in my chest—a pain so familiar it had practically lived there for months. Xavier had always told me it was just the bond echoing his injuries from the training grounds. I bought it all. I was so naive. I thought I was just feeling his physical pain, the way mates do. I’d forgotten that betrayal burns just as hot. Then I felt it—a different kind of ache. Lower. Deeper. My pup…was crying. Hurting. My palm pressed flat against my stomach. Right there, a tiny, fragile heartbeat was fighting to survive. A two-month-old pup. I had planned to tell him during our anniversary dinner last night. But then he told me he was trapped by rogues in the Forbidden Forest of Death. I had driven three hours through a deadly storm, braving the rogue wolf scent, crawling through the mud to save him. I thought he was dying. Instead, he was making out with another woman. Their tangled figures blurred before my eyes, and then, I saw a flash of blue fire. Coming from Tessa’s neck. When my gaze caught The Lunar Tear, my breath stopped. Xavier had bought it at an auction three months ago, proudly telling the media it was a gift for his “beloved mate.” So I waited, day after day, expecting him to give it to me on our anniversary. Now, that very sapphire was glittering around Tessa’s neck. It felt like a physical slap to the face.

The cramping in my abdomen grew sharper, an agonizing tearing sensation that made me gasp. I dragged myself to a bus stop, clutching my stomach as I slid onto the metal bench. A black SUV rolled out of the underground garage, stopping at the red light right in front of me. Xavier was behind the wheel. Then my phone rang. His name flashed on the screen. His voice echoed through his car’s speakers, drifting out of his half-open window. “Hey, babe. The roads finally cleared, so I’m heading home now.” His voice was incredibly warm, dripping with that fake, loving concern. “I got those lemon scones from Magnolia’s for you. They’re still warm.” Through his window, I watched him reach over to brush a strand of hair from Tessa’s face. Tessa giggled, biting into a scone he was holding out to her. “Is it good?” he whispered to her, his lips moving silently. “Xavier,” I gripped my phone, whispering. “What’s wrong? Your voice sounds weak. Did you catch a cold?” “If I told you I was standing outside the Peak Penthouse right now…” I stared at his car. “Would you step out and look at me?” A beat of slience. Then, he let out a dry, forced chuckle. “Clara, stop playing games.” “I went to the Forbidden Forest of Death to save you last night.” I said. His laugh vanished. It was replaced by a cold, harsh growl. “Clara, are you insane? I told you I was safe. Why do you always have to create drama?” “Do you have any idea how much trouble you almost cost me? You really want the pack elders asking questions about why you were out there alone?” So that was all he cared about. Not me bleeding in the woods. Not me almost dying. Just what the elders would say. There was nothing left to say. I wanted to hang up— Then the pain hit. A full-body seizure of it, white-hot and blinding. “Xavier, my stomach hurts,” I whimpered, curling in on myself as a warm wetness soaked through my pants. “Then take some medicine. I’m an Alpha, Clara, not a healer.” his voice was cold. Too cold. At the same time, in the passenger seat, Tessa suddenly gasped, clutching her stomach with a dramatic groan. Xavier’s face went completely pale. “Tessa? What’s wrong? Is your stomach flaring up again?” He didn’t even bother to cover the phone. The raw, desperate panic in his voice sliced right through me. “Xavier… it hurts so bad,” Tessa whimpered. “Don’t worry, I’m taking you to the pack hospital right now.” The SUV roared to life, surging forward. The tires kicked up a wave of muddy, freezing street water, drenching me from head to toe. The call went dead. I slid off the bench onto the wet pavement, my vision blurring into a dark, bloody red. Someone was screaming in the distance, calling for an ambulance, but my mind was already slipping away. When I finally opened my eyes, the harsh smell of bleach filled my nose. A nurse was changing my IV drip, her eyes filled with pity. “I’m so sorry, Clara. We couldn’t save your pup.” “You arrived too late. The hypothermia and the sheer physical trauma… it was too much.” I stared at the white ceiling. So that was it. I waited for the tears. For the anger. For anything. Nothing came. I just felt completely hollow. The nurse sighed softly and slipped out of the room. I picked up my phone. The screen lit up with messages from Xavier. “Something came up at the pack house. I won’t be home tonight.” “I left the scones in the kitchen. Make sure you eat them.” “Clara, stop giving me the silent treatment. You were the one acting crazy last night.” He was still playing his usual game, expecting me to crawl back the moment he threw me a bone. I didn’t reply. Instead, I opened a hidden folder on my phone. Inside was all the evidence my private investigator had gathered six months ago. The lease for Tessa’s luxury apartment, the bank transfers, the hotel bookings. I used to think I would use this to scream at him, to demand answers. Now, I just felt disgusted. I called my family’s lawyer. “Mr. Vance, prepare the divorce papers.” “Luna Clara? Are you sure? What about the asset division?” “I only want what belongs to my family. But every single cent he spent on Tessa? I want it clawed back.” After hanging up, I dialed Xavier’s number. He answered almost instantly. In the background, I could hear the steady beep of hospital monitors. “Clara? Done throwing your tantrum?” His tone was insufferably arrogant. “I knew you’d call.” I looked out the window, my mind clearer than it had been in years. “Xavier, let’s get a divorce.”

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1 On our third anniversary, my amnesiac husband suddenly looked at me with red eyes, claiming he’d crossed over from age eighteen. “I’m sorry, babe. How could that bastard betray you? I’m eighteen now. I only love you.” He sobbed, repenting as he blocked his mistress on WhatsApp. I stared, stunned by his smooth performance. For the past year, this version of him had trampled my heart for that woman. Now, he spent every day clumsily trying to please me like a boy in first love. I thought a miracle had come. Until I overheard him on the phone, his tone careless and cruel. “Aly, don’t be mad. Wasn’t the bet to see if she could tell I was faking? Once she’s moved and forgives me, I’ll tell her the truth. I promise I’ll shred her heart for you, okay?” I stopped walking, my heart chilling. There had never been a lover crossing time. He was still twenty-five-year-old Adrian Caldwell. But he didn’t know. I had truly crossed over from eighteen. And the affection that version of me held for him was nowhere near enough to let him humiliate me like this. I stood frozen, my mind in chaos. My memories still stopped before I got together with Adrian. At that time, he had already chased me for an entire year. He delivered breakfast for a hundred days. He stood under my dorm building on countless rainy nights. Only then had I slowly opened my heart. The next moment, I woke up seven years in the future. On the other end of the phone, Aly Shaw was still laughing. “Adrian, you’re so bad.” Adrian’s voice was lazy, full of unconcealed malice. “If I don’t crush her pride completely, how will she learn? All right, I’ll go coax her some more. Sleep early.” He hung up and turned to open the balcony door. When he saw me standing outside, the tenderness on his face instantly switched to panic. With red eyes, he strode over and pulled me hard into his arms. “Babe, I was wrong. I really know I was wrong.” “My head is full of memories from when we were eighteen. I only remember how much I loved you. How could I hurt you for another woman?” If this had been twenty minutes ago, twenty-five-year-old Skye Harper might have cried her heart out and forgiven all the awful things he had done over the past year. But I was eighteen. Three days ago, I had only barely agreed to Adrian’s pursuit. My mind flashed through what he had done this past year. When Skye was sick, he let Aly pour all her medicine into the toilet, saying Skye was faking illness to compete for attention. He threw the cheap silver ring I bought him into the trash, then spent millions buying Aly a three-pound set of gold jewelry. He said, “Aly saved my life. Of course I should treat her like a princess.” On Skye’s birthday, he brought Aly into our marital bed. In that daze, I seemed to feel the pain Skye had felt then. I trembled with anger and shoved him away. Adrian froze for a second, then immediately came close again, tears falling in large drops. “Babe, hit me, curse me, anything. Just don’t ignore me. From now on, I’ll only revolve around you, okay?” I raised my hand and slapped him hard across the face. The sound was crisp. Adrian’s face turned from the force, and five red marks appeared instantly on his pale skin. A flash of fury passed through his eyes. Then he forced it down, turned back, and looked at me with wounded devotion. “Babe, does your hand hurt? If you’re not satisfied, hit this side too.” He grabbed my hand and brought it toward his face. I pulled my hand back and went to the bathroom to wash it. “Adrian Caldwell, stop acting. It’s disgusting.” His body stiffened. His eyes flickered. “Babe, what am I acting about? I really only remember being eighteen…” Before I could speak, the doorbell suddenly rang. Adrian’s expression shifted. He strode over and opened the door. Aly stood outside holding a thermal container, eyes red, looking fragile and pitiful. “Adrian, I made your favorite fish soup.” Adrian suddenly raised his voice and snapped, “What are you doing here? Get out! My wife is home. If you don’t care about shame, I do.” He knocked the container over. Soup splashed onto Aly’s calf. Aly screamed, tears falling rapidly. “It’s okay if you don’t want me anymore. I won’t give up on you…” She cried and ran into the elevator. Adrian slammed the door shut, then turned back with a humble expression, waiting for praise. “Babe, see? I didn’t care about her at all.” I stared at his right hand. When he had knocked over the container just now, his index and middle fingers had crossed discreetly. That was his secret signal with Aly. When twenty-four-year-old Skye discovered that signal, she had confronted him without hesitation, and in return, he threw her out of the car in pouring rain. But eighteen-year-old me only found the signal ridiculous. The moment the door closed, I saw pain flash across Adrian’s face. I ignored him, walked into the guest room, and locked the door. No matter how hard he pounded on it outside. 2 I lay on the bed as seven years of love and hate forced themselves through my mind like a cruel film reel. In the beginning, for those first two years, he had treated me so well it was almost reckless. That was how he made me fall completely. For the first three years after marriage, Adrian still loved me. Wherever we went, he held my hand, afraid I would suffer even the slightest grievance. Everyone in our circle knew that Adrian Caldwell’s bottom line was me. Until the fourth year of our marriage. A car accident destroyed everything. At the edge of life and death, we both tried desperately to protect each other. Adrian jerked the steering wheel, wanting to leave the chance of survival to me. I also unbuckled my seat belt without hesitation and threw myself over him, blocking the shattered windshield with my body. Blood covered my eyes. Before I fell into total darkness, I saw a woman in a white dress running toward the car through the window. That was Aly. Later, I was in the ICU, fighting for my life. Adrian woke up first. When he opened his eyes, the first person he saw was Aly, crying beside his bed. That accident took away his memory. He remembered everything except that he had a wife named Skye Harper. Aly selfishly hid my existence and never mentioned the fact that he was married. With her day-and-night companionship and intimate care, the amnesiac Adrian gradually fell in love with her. Until the day he was discharged. He was full of joy, wanting to be with Aly, only to learn from his assistant that he was already married. Twenty-five-year-old Skye loved Adrian to the bone. She had even almost lost half her life saving him in that crash. What she received in return was his coldness after losing his memory, his violence, and his endless favoritism toward another woman. I slowly fell asleep, my mind going blank. The next morning, I opened the door. Adrian was wearing an apron, carrying fried eggs out of the kitchen. “Babe, I made your favorite runny eggs.” Twenty-five-year-old Skye had forced herself to eat half-raw eggs for a year to match his taste. But eighteen-year-old me was allergic to raw egg. I pulled out a chair, sat down, and pushed the plate into the trash. “I don’t eat undercooked food.” Adrian’s smile nearly slipped. “Isn’t this your favorite?” “My taste changed.” I got up, grabbed my coat, and walked out. He caught my wrist in a hard grip, strong enough to leave a red mark. “Skye, I’ve already humbled myself this much. How long are you going to keep making trouble?” The forcefulness of a twenty-five-year-old man in power showed itself instantly. I looked at him coldly. “Aren’t you eighteen? The eighteen-year-old Adrian never dared raise his voice at me.” His breath hitched. He immediately released me and softened his tone. “I’m sorry, babe. I’m just too scared of losing you. Let me take you out to relax, okay? We can visit our high school.” Without waiting for my answer, he pulled me into the car. The car stopped at the gates of City First High. Adrian held my hand and walked inside, talking nonstop about “our” high school memories. “Do you remember when we secretly flew a kite on the field and got caught by the dean?” I cut him off. “That was you and your first love. I went to Third High.” Adrian froze. He did not remember the details of being eighteen at all. He was relying entirely on the fake memories Aly had fed him, acting deeply in love with me. He awkwardly changed the subject. “Babe, I’ll buy you milk tea. You used to love the taro boba across the street.” He ran over and came back with a matcha frappé with double pearls. That was Aly’s taste. He even casually accepted a tissue from a girl nearby and wiped the sweat from his forehead. That girl was Aly, waiting there on purpose. The two of them exchanged a knowing look. I took out my phone and called a lawyer. “Draft me a divorce agreement. As fast as possible.” Adrian returned and handed me the drink. I smashed it at his feet. Green liquid splashed over his expensive leather shoes. “Adrian Caldwell, we’re getting divorced.” He finally tore off his smile and gritted his teeth. “Skye Harper, you were willing to risk your life for me. Who are you trying to scare with divorce now?” I looked at him. “Done pretending?” 3 He froze instantly, just about to explain. The next second, Aly’s sweet voice sounded behind him. “Adrian, you lost the bet. She figured out you were faking.” “A bet is a bet. Except for that kind of thing, you have to follow all my plans today. Bring her to tonight’s party.” Aly’s voice was not loud, but I heard every word. Adrian glanced at me, the corner of his mouth curving. “Fine. I’ll listen to you.” I turned and walked away, refusing without hesitation. “I’m not going.” But he dragged me into the car, floored the gas, and brought me straight back to the villa. He pulled me into the walk-in closet and threw out a pink floral dress. “Put it on. You’re coming with me tonight.” It was Aly’s favorite style. It was also what Adrian now liked. Twenty-five-year-old Skye had bought a closet full of clothes like this to please him. I picked up the dress and tore it in half in front of him. “Get out.” Adrian’s eyes turned red. He pulled off his tie and locked me inside the closet. “You’ll wear it whether you want to or not. When you soften up, I’ll let you out.” The closed room had no windows. But the one with claustrophobia was the current Skye, not eighteen-year-old Skye. I sat on the floor and stared coldly at the sliver of light beneath the door. At eighteen, what I had most was backbone. Six hours later, the door opened. Adrian stood there coldly, holding a couture gown. He thought I would be like twenty-five-year-old Skye, crying and begging while clinging to his leg. But I stood, dusted off my pants, and walked past him straight to the bathroom. His gaze darkened. He forcibly pulled me back and shoved the gown into my arms. “Change. I’ll agree to one request from you.” The banquet hall was full of lights and wine. Adrian forced me to enter on his arm. Everyone in the circle knew how he had degraded his wife for Aly. Countless gazes landed on me, waiting to watch a show. Aly walked over with a wine glass. Her dress and mine were from the same collection, as if we were twins. “Adrian. Mrs. Caldwell,” she called sweetly. The rich kids around us began teasing. “Mr. Caldwell, even after losing your memory, your taste still leans toward our Aly, huh?” Adrian did not refute them. A cruel smile curved his lips. He turned to me. “Babe, everyone’s playing a game. Shooting. If you lose, you’ll toast Aly and apologize for making trouble this afternoon.” On the table lay a modified air gun and several apples. Adrian had deliberately set up this game to humiliate me and force me to lower my head to his mistress in front of everyone. I stepped forward and picked up the air gun, weighing it in my hand. “What if I win?” Adrian lifted an eyebrow. “Then do whatever you want.” He fired first. The apple ten meters away was struck at the edge and fell to the ground. Pleased, he handed the gun to me. I did not take it. I picked up the spare gun on the table, loaded it, aimed, and pulled the trigger. All in one motion. Bull’s-eye. The apple shattered. The entire room fell silent. At eighteen, I had been a professional shooter on the provincial team. For Adrian, the later me gave up my career and never touched a gun again. I turned, picked up an entire bottle of high-proof vodka, and walked to Aly. “Drink it.” Aly’s face went pale as she looked to Adrian for help. “Adrian…” Adrian’s face darkened. He strode over and knocked the bottle from my hand. “Skye Harper, enough!” He shielded Aly behind him. I looked at him. “A bet is a bet.” “She won’t drink, right?” 4 I stepped forward and slapped Aly across the face with all my strength. Aly screamed and fell to the floor, the corner of her mouth swelling instantly. “This slap replaces the drink. We’re even.” Adrian shoved me hard. I crashed into the long table behind me, pain shooting through my waist. He crouched down and pulled Aly into his arms, then turned and glared at me. “Take her away. Lock her in the basement!” he ordered the bodyguards. Two bodyguards stepped forward and twisted my arms. “You can reflect in there. Without my permission, no one is allowed to give her food or water.” The basement was cold and damp. Using the weak light from my phone, I found a metal stool in the corner. I lifted it and smashed it hard against the high ventilation window. Glass shattered. The wire mesh bent. My hands were cut by glass, blood flowing freely. I stepped on a cabinet and climbed out through the vent. The night wind was freezing. Without looking back, I walked into the dark. At dawn, I returned quietly to the villa with bandages wrapped around my hands. Adrian was not home. I pulled my suitcase out from under the bed and began packing. When I finished, I sat on the edge of the bed and took out my phone. There were hundreds of unread messages, all sent by twenty-five-year-old Skye to Adrian. Humble, pleading, despairing. Adrian, can you come home for dinner today? I made your favorite sweet and sour ribs. Adrian, my stomach hurts. Can you pick me up? Adrian, Aly posted that you two are in the Maldives. Didn’t you say you were on a business trip? I deleted them one by one. Piece by piece, I picked up the dignity she had lost. Passing through the living room, I threw the signed divorce agreement and my wedding ring onto the coffee table. There was also a thick diary on the table. It was where twenty-five-year-old Skye had recorded every detail of the past seven years. I opened to the last page and wrote one line in the wild cursive only eighteen-year-old me would use. Then I pulled my suitcase out and took a cab straight to the airport. At eleven that morning, Adrian pushed open the villa door. In his hand was a box of steamed buns from the south side of the city, something I had “once” loved. He had come to bestow his mercy. “Skye Harper, do you know what you did wrong?” Only silence answered him. He frowned and went to the basement. The lock was intact. But no one was inside. A strange panic rose in his chest. He rushed upstairs to the bedroom. The room was clean, without the slightest trace of a person living there. At once, he saw the divorce agreement and wedding ring on the coffee table. Adrian laughed coldly and took out his phone to call me. “Sorry, the number you dialed has been deactivated.” He froze. His gaze slowly moved to the diary on the coffee table. He opened to the last page. The handwriting was arrogant and bold, nothing like twenty-five-year-old Skye’s restrained, delicate writing. June 2, 2026. I truly crossed over from eighteen. Twenty-five-year-old Adrian Caldwell is complete trash. Thankfully, eighteen-year-old me doesn’t love you at all. Impossible. This had to be Skye’s trick to force him to admit his mistakes. He flipped through the diary and found entries from when I was eighteen. The handwriting was exactly the same. Eighteen. She really was from eighteen. The diary dropped heavily to the floor. Adrian’s mind seemed to be struck by a hammer. Everything went blank. Then the memories he had forgotten suddenly exploded from the depths of his mind.

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William fell in love with my roommate at first sight. He took a photo of her and sent it to the university’s notorious trust-fund group chat. Anyone know this girl? Ten grand for her Instagram handle. A reply came almost immediately. I do. But the guy made a typo and sent my handle instead. And so, William and I ended up in an online relationship for the entire winter break. It was only when the spring semester started and he saw me in person that he realized the mistake. After a long, agonizing silence, he offered a compromise. “Let’s break up, and you help me get Seraphina. Once it’s done, I’ll give you a blank check. Write whatever number you want, deal?” 01 William’s tone was incredibly sincere. Though we went to the same college, this was the first time he had ever looked at me in person. But I had secretly stared at him hundreds of times before. In my memories, he was always detached, carrying an air of effortless indifference as if nothing in the world could ever truly catch his eye. Yet now, for Seraphina, he was being shockingly generous. He had laid down a blank check. “Don’t worry,” he said. “The second I get back, I’m going to have a little talk with Nate.” I knew who Nate was. One of the most notorious trust-fund playboys on campus. He was the one who had given William my contact info by mistake. I clenched my fists, forcing my racing heart to quiet down. “It’s fine.” “I’ll do it.” There was nothing to hesitate about. I loved William, yes. But I was also desperately, agonizingly broke. Still, I never imagined that my very first romance would end in such a humiliating, pathetic way. A sudden gust of icy wind swept over us, and I instinctively pulled my knitted scarf tighter around my neck. William glanced down at me, his eyes dark as midnight. He let out a soft sigh. “I’m sorry.” Suddenly, I remembered the day he added me. It had been a snowy day just like this one. I had just stepped off the train back home, standing in the freezing cold, reading his request over and over again. We had gone to the same high school. Long ago, I had memorized his profile picture and username. And now, we were already juniors in college. Six whole years of quiet, invisible yearning. My hands had been trembling when I finally accepted his request. His first message came through almost instantly: Hey, I’m William. I saw you this afternoon, and I really wanted to get to know you. That single moment was the happiest of my entire life. Only now did I realize that from beginning to end, it had been nothing but a beautiful, cruel illusion. 02 After getting Seraphina’s permission, I handed her contact info over to William. She wasn’t strikingly beautiful, but she was bright, bubbly, and always laughing. Ever since the semester started, she had no shortage of admirers. But obviously, none of them could compare to William. Clutching her phone, she chatted with him while looking at me in confusion. “How do you even know William?” I remained quiet for a moment. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her the truth. “We just happened to have each other’s contacts. We’ve never actually talked.” Seraphina relaxed, letting out a breath. “I’m so nervous. I don’t even know what to say to him. Do you really think he likes me?” I nodded. “Yeah.” With that, I grabbed my textbooks and left the dorm. But when I reached the library lobby, my phone buzzed with a text from William. I want to ask her out for dinner tomorrow. Do you know if she has any allergies, or what she likes to eat? I took a deep breath. I unlocked my screen and scrolled upward. Not long ago, he used to call me “sweetheart.” During those two months, we talked from morning till night. He knew every little detail about me. Before we met, knowing I had a sweet tooth, he had even spent hours learning how to bake those fancy French pastries I loved. But Seraphina’s tastes were the exact opposite of mine. She hates sweets. She loves spicy food. A long silence stretched before his reply came. Got it. Looking at that single word, I locked my screen. Sometimes, life feels incredibly fickle. Just a few days ago, he was whispering sweet nothings to lull me to sleep, saying things that made my heart race. I’m no gentleman, Benjamin. You’ll find out soon enough when we finally meet. But when we finally met, all he had for me was a quiet apology. 03 William didn’t text me often anymore. He only asked occasionally about Seraphina’s preferences. I played my part dutifully. As long as I knew the answer, I told him the absolute truth. One evening, I returned to the dorm to find Seraphina lying in bed, her face pale and flushed. I pressed my hand to her forehead. She was burning up. Right then, my phone buzzed with a message from William. Is Seraphina in the dorm? I’ve been calling her, but she isn’t picking up. I quickly texted back, telling him she had a high fever. William replied almost instantly. Help her downstairs. I’m driving over right now. I agreed. But I was small, and she was heavy. Dragging her down the stairs took every ounce of my strength. By the time we reached the lobby and I saw William, my grip slipped. My wrist slammed hard against the heavy door frame. Seraphina stumbled, nearly crashing to the floor. Seeing this, William rushed over, his face pale with worry. He frowned, his voice cold and sharp. “Benjamin.” “You almost dropped her.” Numbing pain shot through my wrist, but I forced myself to whisper, “I didn’t mean to.” William didn’t even look at me. He scooped Seraphina into his arms and carried her to his car. I stood there in the cold, watching his taillights fade into the night. I stood in the exact same spot for a long, long time. So this was what it felt like to watch the boy you loved cherish someone else with everything he had. 04 For a while after that, William didn’t contact me at all. Once Seraphina returned from the clinic, she spent every evening on FaceTime with him. Our other two roommates would occasionally pop into the frame or chat with him in the background. Only me. I always kept my distance, never making a sound. Yet he used to call me like that too. Back then, I truly believed we were going to write a beautiful story together. One night, Seraphina was in the shower, leaving her phone on her desk. It rang repeatedly. She called out from the bathroom, “Benjamin, can you grab that for me?” I looked at the screen. William’s name flashed across it. He had called several times already, likely worried that she was sick again. After a brief hesitation, I swiped to answer. William’s voice came through the receiver, incredibly gentle. “Seraphina?” A bitter ache swelled in my chest. I bit my lip and said, “She’s in the shower.” The line went quiet. Then, his voice shifted, absolute and certain. “It’s you.” There was no way he wouldn’t recognize my voice. “Yeah,” I murmured. Silence stretched between us. I had delivered the message. I was about to hang up when he suddenly spoke again. “I didn’t mean to snap at you the other day.” I held the phone, the plastic cold against my ear. I didn’t know what to say. After what felt like an eternity, I managed to squeeze out two words. “It’s fine.” He probably didn’t expect such a flat response after all that waiting. He let out a soft, dry laugh. “Okay.” That night, a new message from William appeared on my phone. It felt almost like an olive branch. Thanks for the help the other day. William’s devotion to Seraphina was flawless. He showered her with gifts. Flowers, designer bags, jewelry. So many that her closet could barely hold them all. Yet Seraphina still seemed frustrated. “He’s incredibly sweet to me,” she complained to our roommates. “But it’s been over a month, and he still hasn’t made us official. Am I supposed to make the first move?” Our other roommates asked curiously, “Have you guys kissed or hugged yet?” Seraphina shook her head. “No.” She paused, looking troubled. “Honestly, we haven’t even held hands.” I sat in my corner, listening quietly, saying nothing. In the silence, one of the roommates spoke up. “I heard William’s never been in a relationship before. He’s rich, gorgeous, and he’s never pursued anyone like this. You need to lock him down, girl. Make it official.” But I remembered. During the winter break, we had only been talking for two weeks before he confessed his feelings to me. I figured he had probably learned his lesson after getting burned by his mistake with me, so he wanted to take things slow this time. Still, they would be together soon. I didn’t expect to run into him the very next evening. 05 William and a few guys were playing basketball on the campus courts. I was just passing by when a stray ball slammed hard into my forehead. The guy who threw it came running over, breathless. Seeing the bruising swelling on my forehead, he grabbed my arm. “Damn, I am so sorry. Let me take you to the clinic.” I looked up. The afternoon sun was blinding. As the guy got a clear look at my face, he froze. Right then, William walked up from behind him. His face was incredibly dark as he called out, “Nate.” It clicked. The guy who had hit me was Nate. The one who had given William my contact info by mistake. William’s gaze fell on Nate’s hand gripping my arm. His expression was cold, devoid of any warmth. “You’re just taking her to the clinic. Is it really necessary to grab her like that?” Nate let go of me instantly. In the end, both of them walked me to the campus clinic. Fortunately, it was nothing serious. The entire time, Nate kept asking me questions. Does it hurt? Do you want some water? William simply stood aside, silent and brooding. When we were about to leave, Nate pulled out his phone, acting casual. “Can I get your Instagram? Just in case you feel dizzy later and need anything.” I blinked, caught off guard. Before I could answer, William let out a cold, mocking laugh. “She’s Benjamin. The girl you accidentally set me up with over the break. You already have her contact info.” Nate swore under his breath. “Holy crap, that was you? I completely forgot when I added you.” “You and Seraphina both have the last name Somers, I got you two mixed up. I thought your name was Seraphina Somers.” I bit my lip. “A few weeks ago, I helped coordinate that campus event. You were supposed to be featured, so I reached out to you online.” The event had been canceled, so we never actually met in person. Nate’s face lit up with a grin. “Ah, right! I remember now.” “Well, I guess we were fated to meet after all.” 06 That night, not long after I got back to the dorm, I received a text from Nate. Are you feeling any better? I typed back, Yeah. The screen immediately showed “typing…” It stayed like that for four or five minutes. Finally, his message came through. William almost beat the crap out of me for that mistake. I wanted to apologize to you earlier, but he wouldn’t let me. Said it was in the past and told me to keep my mouth shut so I wouldn’t upset you. But now that we’ve finally met, I figured I really owed you a proper apology. I thought about it for a moment, then replied. Don’t worry about it. After sending it, I went to take a shower. When I came back out, there was a box of expensive pastries sitting on our shared table. The packaging looked incredibly high-end. Seraphina, who was applying a face mask, looked up. “William bought them, but I don’t really do sweets. Feel free to have some, they smell amazing.” I glanced over. The other two roommates already had portions sitting on their desks. Maybe it was because of the hot shower, but my throat felt incredibly dry, my voice sounding raspy. “I’m on a diet. No thanks.” 07 Things progressed smoothly between Seraphina and William. But it wasn’t long before she found out about the mix-up. It started at a party they went to. Someone got drunk and let it slip. “Hey, we heard you and that fake girl share a dorm. What’s she like? No way she’s as pretty as you, right?” “But who knows, Nate’s been talking about her nonstop lately…” Seraphina came back to the dorm absolutely fuming. In front of everyone, she slapped me hard across the face. She warned me to stay far away from William. I opened my mouth to defend myself, but my phone buzzed with a text from William. Seraphina found out. She has a temper. Just let her have her way this once, okay? Consider it a favor to me. During winter break, while we were on a voice call, my grandmother had suddenly fallen and hit her head. In my absolute panic, William had stepped in. He immediately contacted the hospital and arranged for a top specialist. He had been so apologetic: I’m out of town and can’t get back. I wish I could be there with you. He didn’t know that just having his help was enough to make me endlessly grateful. And now, he wanted me to return that favor. I stared at the screen, then quietly typed back. Okay. Then I turned to Seraphina and apologized. After the lights went out, the other two roommates were still whispering comforts to Seraphina. “Some people look so innocent, but they’re doing dirty things behind your back.” “Seriously. How can anyone try to steal someone else’s guy?” Seraphina let out a small, self-satisfied laugh. “Well, he’s not my boyfriend just yet.” I lay in bed, my cheek burning painfully. It would definitely be swollen tomorrow. Yet none of that hurt half as much as William’s text.

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Vincent was the industry’s hottest visionary director, his cinematic genius matched only by his notoriously venomous tongue. When news broke of his new film, fanbases swarmed his comments, pitching their idols for the lead. Amid thousands, he replied only to one of my fans: [Plastic, overacting, shallow. Keep her off my set. Do not desecrate my art.] Instantly, I was thrust into a media bloodbath. Gripping my phone, my voice trembled as I pressed it to my ear. “Why would you do that?” Vincent frowned, his gaze sweeping over me in a slow, clinical evaluation. “You make a living playing eye candy. Did your delusional fans’ compliments actually go to your head? Look at the casting call. Which part of you fits my leading lady? Viv, don’t force yourself into circles you don’t belong in.” Seeing my silence, his tone softened a fraction. “Enough. We’ll talk next time there’s an opportunity. You know the rules. Don’t contact me while I’m shooting.” Secretly married for five years, the only thing he ever left me was “next time.” He gave me that empty promise knowing full well I’d cleared my schedule and turned down every job offer for his film. My phone vibrated with a news alert. The hottest rising starlet clung to his arm, radiant at his film’s launch ceremony. Staring at the screen, at the faint, satisfied smile on Vincent’s face, I opened a different chat and typed. “That script you mentioned. Send it to me again. I want to read it.” 1 The livestream of the launch ceremony was still rolling. A reporter seized a brief lull in the crowd to shove a microphone forward. “Rumor has it that Director Vincent is incredibly demanding on set. Gemma, are you nervous about working with him?” Gemma tilted her head, glancing up at Vincent before flashing a coy, ambiguous smile. “Demanding? I think he’s perfectly fine. Maybe the people who claim he’s hard to work with just fundamentally don’t fit his vision.” The underlying dig was so blatantly obvious that even the drama-hungry entertainment reporters froze for a second. Vincent stood right beside her, entirely silent. He didn’t defend me. Gemma turned back to the cameras, her posture brimming with confidence. “Vincent actually sent me this script six months ago. Our creative wavelengths are perfectly aligned. I know we’re going to deliver an absolute masterpiece. See you all at the box office.” I gripped my phone, completely stunned. Six months ago, I had just returned home from a grueling three-day commercial shoot. The living room floor was buried under crumpled drafts and storyboards. Vincent had looked up from the chaos, his eyes burning with absolute, unfiltered ambition. “Just watch, Viv. This film is going to sweep the Silver Reel Awards.” Back in college, he had looked at me with that exact same burning intensity. He had held my hands, making a solemn vow. “Viv, before your thirtieth birthday, I promise I will direct the film that puts a Silver Reel trophy right in your hands.” I had been so overwhelmed with joy, foolishly believing he was honoring his old promise. That was why I rejected every single contract for the second half of the year. It took until today for me to finally understand. From the very beginning, I was never his choice. My manager, Valerie, was furiously typing on her tablet, trying to do damage control on the negative press. She snatched my phone out of my hands and let out a merciless scoff. “Vivian, is that man really your husband?” A bitter, self-deprecating laugh escaped my throat. When Vincent was still an unknown indie director, he refused to make our relationship public. He claimed he wanted to build his empire first so he could stand beside me proudly. Now he was at the absolute top of the world. Yet every time I brought up going public, he would just frown and say we’d do it “next time.” What was his excuse now? “You are turning thirty. You’re stuck in this awkward middle ground, constantly mocked by the internet as a brainless porcelain doll. Are you planning to spend the rest of your life bouncing around stupid reality shows?” Valerie glared at me, exasperated by my passive loyalty. The sudden ringing of my phone cut her lecture short. Through the screen, Vincent looked at me with a cold, businesslike expression. “Director Campbell is shooting a new blockbuster. I pulled some strings and got you a cameo. The script is in your inbox.” I opened the file and skimmed the first two pages. It was another lifeless, decorative role. A pretty object to stand in the background of a men’s club. I took a deep breath, trying to steady the tremor in my chest. “Vincent, I don’t want to take this. I…” His expression instantly darkened. “Then what exactly do you want? The lead? Vivian, take a good look at your image. Can you stop living in this delusional fantasy?” The words died in my throat. With my sharp, glamorous features and hourglass figure, the media had crowned me the “Hollywood Rose.” But because of that exact image, every single script that came my way was exclusively for a superficial seductress or a tragic beauty. Once, I had swallowed my pride and personally begged a casting director for a gritty dramatic role. He had laughed right in my face. “Vivian? You’ve got to be kidding. That face of hers is just an exquisite porcelain centerpiece. You don’t put a centerpiece in the mud.” I let out a soft, mocking chuckle. “Vincent, in your eyes, am I doomed to be a prop forever? I’m almost thirty. If I don’t land a real role soon, my career is over. Have you forgotten? I am an actress. My dream…” He cut me off without a shred of mercy. “Then stop acting. There is a very clear line between having a dream and being delusional.” Gemma’s sweet voice drifted from the background of his video feed. “Vincent, they’re ready for us on the red carpet.” He reached for the camera, leaving me with one final order. “I got you the role. Take it or leave it, it’s your choice. Do not bother me again.” The screen went black. Valerie took the phone, glancing at the script file. She hesitated. “Campbell’s movies always crush the box office. Maybe just go show your face? It’s better than nothing.” When I didn’t respond, she threw her hands up in frustration. “Well, what else are you going to do? You turned down a whole season of work for him. Are you really just going to sit in this apartment and rot?” I glanced at the framed wedding photo sitting on the coffee table. I took a deep, shuddering breath, exhaling the last remnants of my naive devotion. I pulled up the indie script I had requested earlier. “No. I’m taking this one.” 2 Valerie sat across from me in a quiet corner of an upscale cafe. For the sixth time, she opened her mouth and closed it again. “A 1940s WWII espionage thriller. A heavy, complex female lead. Vivian, are you sure this isn’t some kind of elaborate scam?” Just as she spoke, a young woman timidly poked her head around the partition. Defying every industry stereotype, the director was a girl. Nora placed the bound script gently on the table and offered a shy, apologetic smile. “My film professors used to look at my storyboards and sigh. They told me it was a shame I wasn’t born a man. They said the director’s chair is too brutal for a girl. I just refused to buy into that garbage. Anything they can do, I can do. And I can do it better.” I looked down at the script, a heavy silence washing over me. It wasn’t just the director’s chair. The entire entertainment industry operated on that exact logic. Cinema was a man’s kingdom. Female characters were just the beautiful lace trimming the edges of the narrative. They were never allowed to be the spine. Even Vincent had sneered at the idea more than once. He claimed true art had predefined boundaries, and certain roles were naturally gendered. Back then, I had wanted to open my mouth and tell him he was wrong. Humans are the creators of art. It shouldn’t be suffocated by archaic cages. Art becomes whatever you have the courage to mold it into. Nora looked up at me, her eyes shining with careful reverence. “You are my absolute idol, Vivian. In my mind, you are the one and only Scarlett.” Valerie immediately slipped into her PR persona. “Well, our Vivian definitely has a very diverse portfolio! Which of her pieces is your favorite, Director Nora?” The second the words left Valerie’s mouth, she winced. I was famous for playing arm candy. But Nora sat up perfectly straight, her expression completely serious. “Amber.” My breath hitched. I was seventeen when I got accepted into the acting conservatory. Vincent was already the golden boy of the directing department. He had approached me in the courtyard, his eyes bright. “Vivian, I want you to be the soul of my graduation thesis film.” Amber was the place where Vincent’s dreams began. It was my first ever leading role. It was the undeniable proof that we were once madly in love. I thought that film was the dawn of our legendary partnership. I didn’t know it was the first and the absolute last time he would ever look through a lens and truly see me. During my sophomore year, a vintage photoshoot of me went viral, earning me millions of superficial fans overnight. Meanwhile, Vincent graduated and lost the protective halo of the university. He slammed face-first into the brutal reality of the industry. Making movies was like burning cash in a furnace. So I took the jobs. I played the brainless seductress. I played the tragic mistress. I went on trashy variety shows and let hosts humiliate me for laughs. I endured endless think pieces mocking me as a talentless hack who only knew how to look pretty on a red carpet. I did it to buy him time. To build him a financial fortress so he could protect his artistic integrity. Eventually, his breakout film shattered box office records. And his reward to me was a merciless sneer. “Viv, surely you don’t actually believe you still qualify as an actress?” I pulled myself out of the memory, offering Nora a bitter, grounded smile. “I love this story. It’s brilliant. But I have to warn you, my public reputation is completely toxic right now. And it has been years since I anchored a serious dramatic role. Are you absolutely certain you want to gamble your debut on me?” Nora shook her head, her gaze completely unwavering. “Anyone who has the depth to play Amber can do absolutely anything.” When the studio officially announced my casting, the internet exploded. The backlash from my own fanbase nearly drowned my social media accounts. [Are you out of your mind? We’ve been fighting Gemma’s fanbase in the trenches for months, and while she gets cast in Vincent’s new masterpiece, you sign on to this no-name garbage?] [Girl, you are almost thirty! Stop throwing tantrums! Taking a role from a rookie director is just handing your rivals free ammunition to humiliate you!] Late that night, my phone rang. It was Vincent. “Vivian, what the hell is going through your head? Call them and quit right now. I will wire you the money to cover the breach of contract fee. I’ll make a call to Campbell, and you’ll be on his set by Monday.” I took a slow, deep breath. “No. I am making this movie.” A harsh, condescending laugh echoed through the receiver. “I practically hand-delivered you an opportunity, and you throw it in the trash. When this blows up in your face, do not come crying to me about how unfair the industry is.” A few days later, during a press junket for his film, a reporter deliberately brought up my new project. Vincent stared dead into the camera, his eyes arctic. “Some people are so desperate for the spotlight they’ll stoop to anything. I have absolutely zero interest in working with an actor who lacks basic artistic dignity.” The tabloids had a field day. [VINCENT SHREDS HOLLYWOOD ROSE: THE RIVALRY IS OVER.] [GEMMA EYES THE SILVER REEL WHILE VIVIAN BECOMES A PUNCHLINE.] That evening, Gemma accidentally “liked” a post calling me washed up. She unliked it a minute later, blaming a slip of the finger. Once again, I was the internet’s favorite punching bag. But I found that I didn’t care at all. I sat in my quiet apartment, running a highlighter over my dialogue. Valerie walked into the room, looking incredibly uneasy. “Viv… our filming location got finalized. We’re shooting in the exact same backlot as Vincent’s crew. Right next door.” 3 The production team booked a block of rooms at the local hotel. The second Valerie handed me my keycard, her face contorted in annoyance. “It’s bad enough we’re sharing a backlot, but we’re in the exact same hotel?” I just smiled tiredly, dragging my heavy suitcase toward the elevator doors just as they were about to slide shut. “Thanks for holding—” The words died on my tongue. Standing inside the velvet-lined elevator were Vincent and Gemma. Vincent pulled his finger off the open button, his eyes staring straight ahead. He didn’t offer me a single glance. Gemma, however, let a smug, overly sweet smile bloom across her face. “Vivian, what a crazy coincidence. I can’t wait to learn a few things from a veteran like you.” The second the elevator dinged at their floor, Vincent strode out without looking back. Gemma trailed right behind him. Right as the steel doors closed, I caught a snippet of their conversation. Gemma whispered something, and Vincent let out a low, genuine laugh. At ten-thirty that night, I was sitting on my bed in pajamas, immersed in my script, when a sharp knock startled me. Vincent let himself in without an invitation. He dropped onto the velvet armchair, his eyes doing a critical sweep of the standard room. “Accommodations aren’t completely terrible, I suppose.” I didn’t say a word. The silence stretched until the air grew thick with tension. He let out an irritated sigh. “Drop the movie, Vivian.” “You’re shooting a period piece aiming for the fall blockbuster window. Do you honestly believe some fresh-out-of-college girl can stand toe-to-toe with my premiere?” My fingernails dug into my palms. Vincent rubbed his temples, softening his voice to a patronizing murmur. “Viv, your aesthetic just fundamentally clashes with serious cinema. What is so wrong with Campbell’s set? If you’re throwing a fit over screen time, I can talk to him and add a few scenes…” He reached out, attempting to pull me into his chest the way he always did when he wanted to pacify me. I dodged his hand. “You changed your cologne.” Vincent was a brilliant, obsessive visionary, which meant he was utterly helpless at basic survival. For five years, I had curated every single aspect of his life. His clothes, his meals, his schedule. I noticed the foreign scent the second he crossed the threshold. Vincent frowned, bringing his collar to his nose. “It’s the brand Gemma endorses. I’m just trying it out. Is that a crime?” I took another step back, completely out of his reach. A hollow, self-deprecating smile touched my lips. “No crime. I’m not quitting the movie. It’s getting late, Director. You should head back to your own room before someone gets the wrong idea.” “After all, you’re the king of the box office now. I wouldn’t want anyone thinking I’m trying to leech off your clout.” His face darkened like a thundercloud. “You are doing this again. Am I wrong? Vivian, do you honestly even remember how to act? Did you really convince yourself that staring blankly into a camera in pretty dresses counts as a performance? Look at Gemma. Look at the raw talent she brings at your exact age, and then look at…” I swallowed the sharp, burning lump in my throat and cut him off. “I had opportunities. Do you really not know why I ended up playing those roles?” Vincent’s jaw clenched. His face was livid as he turned on his heel and slammed the hotel door behind him. I wiped a stray tear from the corner of my eye and picked my script up off the floor. Once principal photography began, the two sets were separated by nothing more than a narrow, brick alleyway. Walking out of the makeup trailer, I could easily spot Vincent and Gemma sitting shoulder-to-shoulder behind the main monitor. He leaned in close, whispering instructions into her ear. She giggled, playfully shoving his shoulder. Valerie rolled her eyes so hard I thought she’d hurt herself. “If he had a shred of decency, he’d be struck by lightning.” I didn’t spare them a second glance. I turned my back and walked straight to my mark. For the next few weeks, I practically bled into my character. On the other side of the alley, Vincent and Gemma were generating endless headlines. The tabloids were flooded with suspiciously high-quality candid shots. Director Vincent Personally Coaches Gemma, Unstoppable Chemistry on Set. I didn’t click on a single article. On the rare occasions we crossed paths in the hotel lobby, I offered a polite, mechanical nod and kept walking. I heard a lighting tech whisper one afternoon. “Vivian must really hate him after that interview. It was pretty brutal to trash her on national TV.” I just smiled to myself. No one in this entire crew had the slightest clue that the man ignoring me was my husband of five years. Everything was quiet until Valerie kicked my hotel door open one night, her face completely drained of color. “We have a massive problem.” She shoved her tablet into my hands. The number one trending hashtag glared back in bold red letters. [BREAKING: DIRECTOR VINCENT AND GEMMA SPOTTED ENTERING HOTEL ROOM TOGETHER. MIDNIGHT ROMANCE CONFIRMED?]

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1 Waiting in line at the pharmacy, my phone buzzed with a text from my husband. “Babe, the doctor said it’s late-stage. There’s no coming back from this.” “Maybe we should just… stop the treatments.” “I’m terrified of losing you and ending up with absolutely nothing left.” My finger hovered over the screen for a long time before I finally typed back a simple agreement. He had spent nine years living in a damp basement apartment with me, working five jobs a day just to pay my medical bills. I couldn’t drag him down anymore. Dragging my wrecked body to my shift at the coffee shop, I noticed a girl decked out in designer labels chatting loudly on speakerphone. “I told you she was faking the terminal illness to drain your bank account. Who just agrees to stop treatment that easily?” I was about to walk over and ask her to take it off speaker when a terribly familiar voice drifted from the phone. It was my husband. Michael. “I honestly thought her love was pure. Turns out even when I pretend to be dead broke, I still attract gold diggers.” The blood in my veins turned to ice. The girl’s sugary laugh grated against my ears. “Well, are you ready to come home and marry me now?” “No rush. She told me she’s at death’s door. I want to see exactly how she plans to fake her own funeral.” I stood perfectly still, a bitter smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. The poverty was a lie. He never believed in me. But it didn’t matter. I would be gone soon anyway. The girl rolled her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re so hung up on. You willingly lived in a moldy basement for nine years. There is no way she’s prettier than me.” A soft chuckle came through the speaker. “She’s just a haggard mess now. But her acting totally fooled me back then. I really thought she loved me for me. You have no idea… she literally starved herself, eating one meal a day just to buy me a pair of hundred-dollar sneakers.” “I never wore them, obviously. They were cheap garbage. But I did enjoy the thrill of having someone from the bottom of the barrel sacrifice everything for me. I just never expected she’d use that exact same dedication to fake stomach cancer.” My arms hung limp at my sides, my fingernails biting into my palms. Those sneakers he said he was saving for a special occasion were just too cheap for him. Every drop of blood I bled for him was nothing but a pathetic parlor trick in his eyes. I forced my face to remain blank and walked over to her table. “Miss, please turn off your speakerphone.” Tiffany bristled like a cornered cat. “This place is completely dead! Who am I bothering? Do you have any idea who I am, or are you just blind?” I kept my eyes pinned to the floor and stayed quiet. My silence only fueled her rage. “I swear to God, I will have you fired before your shift ends.” She killed the call and stormed out, but not before I caught Michael’s gentle voice coaxing her. “Easy, babe. Don’t waste your breath on trash like her.” Trash. To him, I was always just a bottom-feeder. A sharp pain clawed at my stomach. I doubled over, coughing violently until a mouthful of hot blood splattered onto the floor. Michael, when you met me, you played the part of a struggling kid perfectly. We went to the same college. He was the golden boy everyone knew, and I was a ghost. Walking back to my dorm after a late-night shift, a group of guys backed me into an alley. They whistled, boxing me in. “Hey sweetheart, just getting off work? Why don’t you come clock some overtime with us?” I was shaking so hard I couldn’t feel my legs. That was the exact moment Michael crashed into my life. Wearing a threadbare jacket, he chased them off. I didn’t care about looking tough. I grabbed his sleeve and sobbed until I couldn’t breathe. He walked me all the way back to my building. Maybe it was just the adrenaline, but I fell for him completely. When he finally asked me out, his face was flushed red. He told me his family was drowning in debt and he couldn’t give me the life I deserved. I looked at him with stars in my eyes. “It doesn’t matter. As long as I have you, I have enough.” He hugged me so tight I thought my ribs would crack. I thought he was moved by my words. Now I realize he was probably just laughing at how incredibly easy I was to manipulate. Another coughing fit hit me, loud enough to bring my manager rushing out of the back room. “Stella, honey, what’s going on? You sound awful.” I waved her off, forcing a smile. She rested a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Look, don’t hate me for this. But you don’t need to come in tomorrow.” I stared at her, the cough dying in my throat. “Some big shot named Michael made a call. He said you disrespected the wrong person.” I gave a slow, numb nod. So this was his gift to his real girlfriend. He was cutting off my only lifeline. If that was the game, fine. He called me a gold digger, so I was going to dig. I needed to leave something behind for Nana before I died. My manager slipped me two days of extra pay and told me to focus on getting better. I smiled and took the cash. I didn’t tell her that getting better was entirely off the table. Michael didn’t get home until after midnight. He was wearing his usual delivery uniform, but the fabric was pristine. I had been so blind. He blinked in surprise when he saw me sitting on the edge of the bed. “You’re home early. Doesn’t the shop close at ten?” “I got fired.” He took off his helmet and ruffled my hair, the same familiar gesture he always used. “What happened? You always bust your ass there.” I tilted my head, subtly dodging his hand. “I offended the wrong person, I guess.” His hand froze mid-air. He didn’t push it. I cut straight to the point. “Michael, I need thirty grand.” He had just started pulling off his jacket. Hearing the number, his brow furrowed. “What do you need that kind of money for?” Thirty grand. That wouldn’t even cover the cost of one of his designer watches. “I want to live. I want to pay for the treatments.” He walked over and set a crushed piece of cake on the table. He bought it on the way home. It looked exactly like how I felt. He reached for my hand, his voice dipping into that soft, persuasive tone. “Stella, we talked about this. The doctors said it’s pointless.” “It’s a bottomless pit. Thirty grand won’t even make a dent. Let me use that money to buy you nice things, take you places. Let’s just enjoy the time we have left.” I pulled my hand back. “But I want to survive, Michael.” Seeing I wasn’t backing down, a flash of genuine anger crossed his face. He stood up. “What is your problem, Stella? Haven’t we burned enough cash on this phantom illness of yours? Are you trying to bleed me dry?” “I bet you’re not even sick. If you were really dying, you wouldn’t be sitting here perfectly fine without so much as a cough! You just want my money!” He kicked the table violently and stormed out of the apartment without looking back. He didn’t notice the table crashing into my leg, leaving an ugly, purple bruise on my shin. I never coughed in front of him because I was terrified of worrying him. I was terrified he would drop his shifts to take care of me. Once, when I was bedridden with a bad flu, he was out of state for work. He finished his shift and rode a Greyhound bus for sixteen hours straight just to put a cold towel on my forehead. I never imagined that my desperate attempt to protect him would become the exact reason he doubted my cancer. I set the table upright and rubbed my aching leg. The cake had splattered across the floor. I knelt down and scooped up a bit of frosting that hadn’t touched the dirt, letting it dissolve on my tongue. It was so sweet. So sweet it brought tears to my eyes. It was a shame I’d never get to taste it again. After cleaning up the mess, I wandered out of the basement and into the city. I ended up standing outside a high-end bridal boutique, pressing my hands against the freezing glass. Michael promised me a wedding once. I had lost three pregnancies for him, and I still never got to wear a white dress. Footsteps clicked against the pavement. I turned around and froze. Michael and Tiffany were walking right toward me. She spotted me first. “Babe, look. It’s that barista who mouthed off to me today.” Michael didn’t even look at me. “Don’t worry about it, Tiff. I already had her fired.” “It’s weird though. My gold-digging wife actually asked me for…” He finally looked up and saw me standing by the window. All the color drained from his face. I kept my composure and took a step forward. “I heard everything at the cafe today.” “You’re actually rich. Aren’t you?” I stared straight into his eyes. He shifted his gaze, refusing to meet mine. Tiffany gasped, covering her mouth in mock horror. “Oh my god, you’re the wife? Sorry I interrupted your little chat earlier.” “Since you obviously recognized his voice, why didn’t you stick around and listen to the rest? You might have heard something really juicy.” Michael’s panic faded, replaced by a cold, arrogant calm. “Since the secret’s out, there’s no point pretending.” “I faked being poor because girls in my tax bracket don’t know how to love. I wanted to see if I could find something real.” His upper lip curled in disgust. “I thought you were different. Turns out you’re worse than the rest of them. I’m literally living in a basement, and you’re still trying to scam me.” I gave him a hollow smile, a single tear slipping down my cheek. If I was really a gold digger, I wouldn’t have starved with him for nine years. “You’re right. I’m a gold digger. So since you’re loaded, wire me thirty grand.” I had to get that money. My body was rotting from the inside out, but Nana still had a chance. She had a tumor and was waiting for surgery. She was the only family I had left. Tiffany nudged Michael with her elbow, a nasty smirk on her face. “See? I told you. The broke ones are the greediest.” Michael looked at me like I was something he scraped off his shoe. “You want the money? Fine.” He didn’t finish the sentence. He just crooked a finger, motioning for me to follow them inside. I couldn’t hear what he was whispering to Tiffany. But I knew if I walked through those doors, I could save Nana. They led me right into the center of the bridal shop. It was packed with customers. Tiffany sat in a velvet chair and pointed her phone camera right at my face. I instinctively threw my hands up to cover my eyes. I was terrified of cameras. Back in high school, the rich kids bullied me because I wore hand-me-downs. They dragged me into the locker room, tore my clothes off, and dumped freezing water on me while recording the whole thing. The video went viral around the school. They branded me as trash. I told Michael all of this in the dark of our basement. He had pulled me into his chest and held me so tight. He told me I was safe now and promised he would never force me to take a photo if I didn’t want to. Now, he stood perfectly still, watching Tiffany shove a lens in my face without saying a word. Tiffany giggled. “Get on your knees. Tell the camera you’re a homewrecker who tried to steal my fiancé. Bow your head to the floor three times and apologize. You do that, and Michael will wire you the cash. Deal?” My throat felt like it was packed with glass. I looked at Michael, begging him silently. He looked away. “Do what she says.” I stared at the glowing red recording light, feeling the eyes of a dozen strangers burning into my back. I clamped my jaw shut and dropped to my knees. The entire store went dead silent. I choked out the humiliating script she demanded, but my body physically wouldn’t let me bow my head. Tiffany scoffed. “Let me help you out.” She grabbed the back of my hair and slammed my forehead into the marble floor. Three times. Blood dripped into my eyes. Just as I managed to stand up, my phone started ringing. It was the hospital. My heart stopped. “What? What happened to her?” I bolted out of the store. They trailed right behind me, but I didn’t care. The doctor said Nana was refusing the surgery unless I was there. With blood streaking down my face, I burst into her hospital room, tears streaming down my cheeks. Nana weakly lifted a hand, her trembling fingers brushing my hair. “My sweet girl… what happened to your forehead?” Before I could invent a lie, Tiffany strolled into the room. “Oh, she got that bowing to me, ma’am.” “Did you know your precious granddaughter is a scam artist? She just begged for thirty grand, admitted on camera that she tried to ruin my relationship, and kissed the floor at my feet!” She shoved the phone directly into Nana’s face, playing the video. My vision went red. I shoved her backward with everything I had. “Turn it off! Shut up! It’s all a lie! Nana, please…” Before I could finish, the heart monitor flatlined, letting out a shrill, continuous scream. Doctors flooded the room. They started chest compressions. I stood in the corner, praying to a God I didn’t believe in. Minutes dragged like hours. The green line on the screen never spiked again. My legs gave out. I collapsed onto the linoleum, slowly turning my head to look at Tiffany. “This is your fault. You killed her.” I lunged at her, fingers curled into claws. Michael stepped in front of her, shoving me back with brutal force. My hip slammed into the metal corner of the hospital bed. I hit the floor, vomiting a massive pool of dark blood. Michael looked down at me in absolute disgust. “Are you seriously still trying to pull this sick stunt?” But a searing, tearing agony ripped through my abdomen. Hot blood soaked through my jeans, pooling on the white floor. Something was leaving me. Something small. I started laughing. I laughed until tears washed the blood off my cheeks. I looked up at him, my voice lighter than a feather. “Michael. We are entirely done.” Right before the darkness swallowed me, I heard a sound I had never heard before. Michael screaming my name, his voice tearing at the seams. “Stella!!”

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1 I was born with severely hyper-reactive skin. Anything less than the absolute highest tier of luxury fabric sends me into a full-blown allergic shock. Ironically, this medical curse caught the eye of a haute couture label owner. She hired me as the company’s chief quality assurance director. My rule was simple. If I put on a gown and it felt uncomfortable, it had to be remade. Today, I rejected three sample dresses from our newest designer. She completely lost her mind. “Who are you to say my pieces cannot be sold!” “I have a master’s degree in design from Paris. You are a self-taught nobody. You have zero right to critique my work!” “Let me spell it out for you. My mother owns this company. You are making me uncomfortable now, so you can pack your desk and get out!” I gently rubbed my inflamed arms, feeling a massive headache coming on. I really debated whether or not I should tell her the truth. The lead investor keeping this company afloat was my oldest sister. The exclusive fabric supplier was my second sister. The A-list celebrity who originally put this obscure brand on the map was my third sister. The only reason Hollywood actresses flocked here for red carpet gowns was because their talent agency CEO was my fourth sister. The brand got featured annually in the world’s top fashion magazine because the editor-in-chief was my fifth sister. My sixth sister was the best internal medicine physician in the country. My seventh sister was a notoriously ruthless corporate lawyer. And they had both explicitly warned me that if I suffered one more allergic reaction at work, they would bury this company in medical reports and lawsuits. Before I took this job, all seven of my sisters sat me down. “Sloane, if this job makes you happy, we support you.” “But if anyone there makes you uncomfortable, we will make sure nobody in that building ever sleeps comfortably again.” … Camille snatched the rejected dresses off the rack and violently whipped them into my face. The sharp, acrid smell of cheap synthetic dye immediately suffocated me. I pinched my nose and stumbled backward. My voice was completely flat. “Your fabric choices are garbage and your tailoring is sloppy. The seams scrape my skin raw. According to our corporate standards, these do not pass.” “Your mother hired me. If you want me fired, she is in a meeting next door. Go complain to her.” It just so happened that Serena, my third sister, was visiting the office today to negotiate her endorsement contract for the upcoming season. My skin was burning, and I felt nauseous. I figured I would just hitch a ride home with her later. I turned to leave, but Camille lunged forward and grabbed a fistful of my hair. “Stop using my mother to threaten me! You play this manipulative little victim act, pretending you are allergic to everything. It might work on her, but it does not work on a professional like me!” “You think you are so delicate? You think my clothes are uncomfortable? Let’s see what actually happens when you wear them!” Camille practically pinned me against the desk, forcing the cheap gown over my head. I dodged left and right, but the allergic reaction hit me like a freight train. The rough, toxic fabric scraped aggressively against my bare shoulders. A wave of intense dizziness washed over me. My breathing grew dangerously shallow. A few of the other employees exchanged nervous glances. One of them finally spoke up in a quiet voice. “Camille, Sloane really does have a severe condition. She keeps EpiPens and antihistamines at her desk.” “A lot of our wealthiest clients have the exact same autoimmune issues. That is why she tests the garments. If a client has a reaction, we get sued.” Camille’s face twisted into an ugly snarl. “So you are telling me that an elite graduate from Paris is somehow inferior to an uneducated fraud?” She aggressively ripped the collar of my cotton undershirt, rubbing the fabric between her fingers before bursting into manic laughter. “I thought you could only wear top-tier luxury goods? Look at this basic cotton rag she is wearing. We could buy a truckload of this trash for the price of one of my gowns.” She had no idea. This basic cotton was organically grown on my second sister’s private pesticide-free estates. The air in the textile mill was hospital-grade filtered. And the so-called premium fabric Camille was bragging about? My family supplied it. She was just using the cheap, discarded offcuts we sold at a massive discount. The abrasive material kept scraping my skin. A massive cluster of angry red hives erupted across my neck. If I did not get my medication immediately, my throat would close and my organs would begin to fail. I desperately reached for my handbag, but Camille slammed her designer heel down on my fingers. “Trying to run now that your lie is exposed?” “Hold her down. I am going to make her wear my design and drag her into my mother’s office to beg for forgiveness!” The entire design floor went dead silent. The staff just stared at each other. When nobody moved, Camille’s voice escalated into a hysterical shriek. “Do you idiots not understand how this works! You ignore the boss’s daughter to protect a scam artist?” “Fine! The second my mother’s meeting is over, I am firing every single one of you! Let’s see if you ever work in the fashion industry again!” Intimidated by the threat, a junior designer named Brooke stepped forward. Her eyes were cold. “I will help you, Camille.” “She is always rejecting my patterns. Always complaining about my fabric choices. I have been sick of her face for months.” “Let’s make her nice and comfortable.” Brooke grabbed another heavy synthetic skirt and shoved it forcefully into my face. My stomach violently cramped. My wheezing grew louder. My entire body felt like it was submerged in boiling water. I dug my fingernails deep into my own palms, fighting to stay conscious. Just hold on. Every time Serena finishes her business meetings, she always comes to find me. Through the fog of my fading consciousness, I heard the familiar click of Serena’s heels approaching from the hallway. I forced my eyes open and screamed out for her. But my throat was so swollen that the sound came out as a pathetic, raspy croak. Serena paused outside the glass doors, furrowing her perfect brows, and looked toward the design department. Camille reacted instantly. She slapped a hand over my mouth. With Brooke’s help, they shoved me backward into a dark, suffocating storage closet. Camille quickly smoothed her skirt and walked out to greet my sister with a sickeningly sweet smile. “Oh, I am so sorry about the noise. Some of our interns lack basic manners. They get a little too excited when celebrities visit the office.” “You are even more stunning in person, Serena. Did the meeting go well?” Serena barely glanced at her. Her sharp eyes swept the room. She lowered her voice, completely ignoring the compliment. “Is it not working hours? Where is Sloane?” A flash of pure disgust crossed Camille’s face, but she masked it quickly. “What terrible timing. I actually sent her out to meet a client this morning.” “Did you need to speak with Sloane about the new collection? I am the head designer. You can just talk to me.” The lie was painfully obvious. Because of my medical condition, Eleanor and I had a strict agreement when I signed my contract. I never did field work, and I never met clients in person. Serena clearly knew this. She gave Camille a long, piercing stare before pulling out her phone. Three seconds later, a customized ringtone echoed through the room. But the phone was not in my pocket. It was sitting right on my desk. Camille let out a heavy breath, feigning amusement. “Sloane is so forgetful. She left for her meeting without her phone.” “But do not worry, our company driver and another associate are with her. She should be back soon.” “The new gowns are waiting in the fitting room. Please, follow me.” Serena stared at my glowing phone for a very long time. Her beautiful face grew dangerously dark. The atmosphere in the room turned suffocatingly tense. The employees who knew the truth began to sweat, awkwardly avoiding eye contact. Jenna, the girl who tried to help me earlier, opened her mouth to speak. But before she could, Eleanor walked in. “Sloane is out having afternoon tea with Mrs. Astor,” Eleanor lied smoothly. “You know how much Mrs. Astor trusts Sloane’s eye. She will be back shortly.” “Why don’t you view the garments with my assistant? I will notify you the second she returns.” I could tell Serena was on the verge of exploding, but she forcefully held it back. Years ago, when I was in high school, I was five minutes late meeting her at the gate. Serena practically tore the school apart looking for me. I felt so embarrassed that I made all my sisters swear a blood oath. They were never allowed to expose our family background or throw their weight around at my workplace. I never imagined that my desire to be independent would end up nearly killing me. Serena gave a tight, clipped nod and turned toward the hallway. Inside the pitch-black closet, the air was entirely depleted. I tried to regulate my frantic breathing. Gathering the absolute last ounce of my strength, I weakly pounded my fist against the wooden door. Thump. Thump. The faint sound echoed across the quiet office. Serena’s head snapped around instantly. “What was that?” Brooke panicked. She grabbed a can of heavy aerosol bug spray and started misting it aggressively near the closet baseboards. “We have a terrible rat problem this week! You should step into the VIP lounge so they do not ruin your designer heels.” The toxic chemical fumes seeped through the door cracks. My lungs completely seized. I let out a broken, wheezing cough. Serena’s eyes flared with absolute fury. “What kind of garbage establishment are you running! Do you not know that Sloane… that some of your employees are terrified of rats?” “I am calling my personal extermination team right now. They will tear these walls open if they have to.” “If this is not resolved, I am terminating my endorsement contract.” Brooke plastered on a fake, terrified smile, begging her to calm down. Serena pulled out her phone and marched down the corridor to make the call. My heart sank into my stomach. Black spots completely covered my vision. Camille was thrilled to see her leave and eagerly tried to follow her. Eleanor’s expression morphed into pure rage. She grabbed her daughter by the arm and yanked her back. “Where did you hide her? Is she in that closet?” Camille blinked, still trying to play dumb. “No! She is probably hiding in the bathroom to avoid working. Why are you blaming me?” Eleanor practically growled. “Camille, I am your mother! Do you really think you can lie to me?” “Do you have any idea how valuable Sloane is to this company!” Eleanor pushed past her and ripped the closet door open. I tumbled out onto the hardwood floor. Cool, fresh air rushed into my lungs, providing a tiny fraction of relief. I dragged my heavy body toward my desk, reaching for the emergency inhaler in my drawer with a violently trembling hand. I pressed the nozzle and inhaled. But instead of medicine, a foul, chemical taste coated my tongue. A blinding pain ripped through my chest. I coughed so hard I could not breathe. The metallic taste of blood filled the back of my throat. Camille stared down at me with cold, dead eyes. A wicked smirk crept onto her face. “See, Mom? I told you she was faking it.” “She claimed she would go into shock if she wore my clothes. Well, I dumped her medicine out and replaced it with tap water and perfume. Look at her, she is still breathing.” “Anyone can fake a panic attack. And those hives? Who knows what kind of disgusting disease she brought into our office.” “You pay this liar a fortune every month just so she can torture your real designers. Call the legal department and have her sued for fraud!” A flicker of hesitation crossed Eleanor’s eyes. Her tone softened slightly. “Stop acting like a spoiled brat! Whether her skills are real or not, you saw how Serena treats her!” “Even our exclusive fabric supplier asked about Sloane by name last week.” “They all share the same last name. They have to be related somehow. Do not ruin my business over a petty grudge.” Camille let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Mom, you are such a coward. We are the ones paying them.” “She is just an actress. If she refuses to sign, it is her loss. There are a million celebrities out there.” “And the supplier? Cut the contract. I can find you ten better textile factories by tomorrow.” “I looked at our financial reports. Their fees are bleeding us dry. This little bitch is definitely taking a secret kickback from them. That is why she keeps failing my designs!” That specific accusation hit Eleanor’s absolute weakest nerve. Her face darkened, and she fell completely silent. She had constantly complained to me about high production costs and low profit margins. What she did not know was that a megastar like Serena would never look twice at a boutique this small. The price Eleanor was paying was already a massive family discount. And those VIP clients who signed massive contracts with us? They were only buying the clothes because my second sister’s anti-allergy fabric was a patented marvel. No other company on earth had access to it. I gasped for air, forcing the words out of my bleeding throat. “Eleanor… you were the one… who begged me to work here.” Eleanor let out a cold sigh and crouched down next to me. “Sloane, I believe your allergies are real. It looks painful. I will have someone call you an ambulance.” A brief flicker of hope sparked in my chest, but the sudden, vicious glint in Eleanor’s eyes extinguished it instantly. “But Camille is right. You and your little supplier friends have been playing me for a fool all these years, taking a cut of my profits.” “Business is tough right now. Transfer all the kickbacks you stole into my account, and I will let this slide.” “Otherwise…” Eleanor cracked open a mini bottle of cheap liquor from the catering cart. She grabbed my jaw and poured it directly into my mouth. “An alcohol allergy is a terrible thing, is it not?” Out of all my triggers, alcohol caused the most lethal reaction. My internal organs felt like they were literally catching fire. Every single breath required a superhuman effort, yet no oxygen was reaching my brain. I could not form a single word. I just mouthed the words, Phone. Transfer. Eleanor eagerly placed my phone into my hand. But before I could unlock it, Camille’s heel came crashing down on my fingers again. “Mom, you are being an idiot! If you give her the phone, she is going to call the cops!” “I already had the legal department draft a document. Make her sign it.” They were so blinded by greed that they failed to notice my phone screen blinking with a faint, pulsing red light. It was an emergency dead-man switch my sisters had custom installed. The moment my biometric vitals dropped to critical levels, an SOS signal blanketed the city. I was hovering on the edge of total blackness. Camille pulled a termination and repayment contract out of her folder and slapped it against my face. “Mom, I hated her the second I walked into this office. The lawyers drew this up yesterday.” “I hired an independent auditor to review every single dollar this company has spent since she arrived. When they find the missing money, this contract legally binds her to pay us back triple the amount.” “Hey, stop playing dead. Pick up the pen and sign it.” My fingers twitched. I wanted to sign it immediately just to get them away from me. Jenna stepped forward, her voice shaking. “You cannot do this. Half our VIP clients have it written in their contracts that Sloane must personally inspect their garments.” “If Sloane leaves, we are in breach of contract. We will owe millions in damages, and we will never get another order.” Camille crossed her arms, smiling with supreme, unearned confidence. “What do you know? When the brand was new, sure, we needed a gimmick like her. But the company is established now. People buy our clothes because of the design, not because of some quality inspector.” “I studied in Paris. My name alone will bring in a flood of high-end clients.” She forcefully jammed a pen into my crushed, bleeding hand. I reflexively curled my fingers, sending a blinding spike of agony up my arm. Camille rolled her eyes in annoyance. “Still trying to stall? You really want to do this the hard way.” She snatched the bottle of liquor from her mother and poured the rest of the burning alcohol directly onto my open wounds. The pain was absolute torture. A silent scream died in my throat. The severe allergic reaction caused my entire face and neck to swell violently. Having lost all patience, Camille physically grabbed my hand and violently dragged it across the paper, forging my signature. “There. Done. You said your relative is a famous actress? Better go beg her for the money you owe us.” The pen slipped from my fingers. My vision went completely black. The voices around me sounded like they were underwater. Camille kicked me hard in the ribs. “Get her out of here. Mark, Jenna, pick her up and throw her down the back stairwell.” The exact second they reached for me, the heavy glass doors to the office completely shattered open.

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Stepping out of the terminal after a brutal five-year stint out of state, my chest hummed with a foolish kind of hope. I thought Christopher would finally drop to one knee and keep the promise he made before I left. Instead, he stood by the baggage claim with his hands in his pockets. His face was a mask of absolute indifference. “Margo. I’m sorry.” Before the shock could even register, he kept talking. “That transfer order. I was the one who pulled the strings.” “I deliberately shipped you off to that godforsaken mining project in the Mojave. I needed to clear the board so Lily and I could figure things out.” “She got pregnant back then. I didn’t have a choice.” A suffocating silence stretched between us. I bit the inside of my cheek until the metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth. Five years. Five years of swallowing sand in the desert, enduring blistering heatwaves, pulling sixteen-hour shifts until my bones felt like lead. It wasn’t a stepping stone for my career. It was a cage he built from scratch. “You were always so intense, so relentless. I was terrified you’d do something to hurt her.” “I’m not telling you this to beg for forgiveness. I just need you to process this now, so you don’t make a scene later.” His tone was heavy with a sickening kind of pity. I took a step back, dodging the hand he reached out toward me. A broken laugh clawed its way up my throat, bringing hot tears to my eyes. “Christopher, you just took something that could have ended with a shred of dignity and burned it to the ground.” 1 Christopher’s BMW tailed my cab the entire ride into the city, flashing its headlights twice. The cab driver caught my eye in the rearview mirror. “Hey miss, that Beemer’s been riding my bumper for miles. A friend of yours?” I wiped a smudge of dried blood from the corner of my mouth. “No.” “You want me to lose him?” “Don’t bother. He knows exactly where I’m going.” The downtown apartment complex looked exactly the same, right down to the faded flyers in the elevator. I dragged my suitcase down the hall and jammed my key into the lock. The cylinder wouldn’t turn. The mechanism felt entirely wrong. Then the door swung open from the inside. Lily stood there in a silk slip dress, balancing a toddler on her hip. She blinked in surprise when she saw me, but the shock quickly melted into a sugar-sweet smile. “Oh. You’re back.” The little boy wrapped his arms around her neck, staring at me with wide eyes. “Mommy, who’s that lady?” “Just someone who used to live here, sweetie.” Lily smoothed the boy’s hair and looked back at me. “Want to come in for a bit? Christopher mentioned you were flying in today, but I didn’t think you’d be here this fast.” My eyes drifted past her shoulder into the living room. A massive wedding portrait hung above the fireplace. The leather sofa I bought was gone, replaced by a plush sectional. Tiny clothes were draped over a drying rack on the balcony. “This place…” “Is my home.” Lily cut me off. Her voice was soft, perfectly modulated. “It has been for five years. The second Christopher got the deed, he moved me right in.” The wheels of my suitcase jammed against the threshold. “He told me that as soon as you hit the desert, we were getting married.” The toddler started squirming, whining to be put down. Lily set him on the hardwood, and he immediately bolted toward a toy chest in the corner. She leaned against the doorframe, her eyes doing a slow, evaluating sweep of my body. “You’ve lost a ton of weight. The outback must have been brutal, huh?” My knuckles turned white around the handle of my luggage. “Is Christopher coming up?” “Hard to say.” She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. “What exactly are you looking for here? A payout? An apology?” “I don’t want anything from him.” “Then why did you even show up?” Looking at her flawlessly pampered face, a wave of pure nausea hit me. “I came back,” I said, keeping my voice dangerously level, “to get my things.” Lily let out a soft, mocking laugh. “What things? I tossed your clothes ages ago. Christopher said your books were just collecting dust, so we donated them. Oh, and those stupid potted plants you left behind? Dead.” She paused, tilting her head. “I made sure not to water them.” I turned on my heel and hammered the elevator button. Her voice drifted down the hall. “Margo, don’t make this ugly. You’ve got absolutely nothing left. You’re out of your league here.” The metal doors slid shut. I rested my forehead against the freezing steel panel and closed my eyes. Five years. I thought I was climbing the corporate ladder. I was just funding their honeymoon. 2 The next morning, I walked into the corporate headquarters to process my return. Brenda, the HR manager, looked like she had seen a ghost when I sat at her desk. “Margo, regarding your position…” “I know. Lily took it.” I shoved my bag into the corner of the cubicle. “It’s fine. Just put me on a standard engineering desk.” Brenda let out a heavy sigh and pulled up my file on her monitor. “Your record for the past five years just says you volunteered for a remote deployment, overcame hostile environments, and completed your quota.” “Because I did.” “But,” she lowered her voice to a harsh whisper, “those three massive tech projects you spearheaded? The patent filings list Lily as the lead architect.” The air left my lungs. “That’s impossible. I wrote every line of that code…” “You signed off on it.” Brenda clicked open a PDF and spun the monitor toward me. “Look right here. It’s an agreement from five years ago. You authorized the IP to be shared as a collaborative team effort.” The signature was definitely mine. But I had zero memory of ever putting a pen to that paper. “You were rushing to catch your flight. Christopher handled a lot of your exit paperwork for you.” Brenda looked away, her face tight with pity. “Margo, look… just go find an empty desk for now.” They put me at a cramped table next to the industrial printer. It was piled high with broken keyboards and junk mail. Colleagues walked past me. Some practically snapped their necks looking the other way. A few offered tight, awkward nods. Only Rachel walked over, leaning in close. “What are you even doing here?” “My deployment ended.” “Yeah, but…” She flicked her eyes toward the glass corner office. Lily’s office. “Watch your back. She’s the department head now, and she’s married to the CEO.” I dropped my notebook onto the desk. “I know.” That afternoon, my phone buzzed. Christopher’s name flashed on the screen. I let it ring out. He called again. Three times in a row. On the fourth ring, I picked up. “Margo, we need to talk.” “We have absolutely nothing to discuss.” “Lily is pregnant with our second. The doctor said her blood pressure is spiking. She can’t handle stress right now.” His voice sounded incredibly tired, as if he were the victim. “Could you just… steer clear of us for a while?” In the background, I heard the kid screaming. “Daddy, Mommy is throwing up!” “I’m coming, buddy.” Christopher rushed his words into the receiver. “Just lay low. I’m begging you.” The line went dead. I stared at the black screen, remembering the day I got my transfer orders. I had called him, sobbing in the stairwell. He told me to wait right there. He rushed over, pulled me into his arms, and kissed my forehead. “Go out there and crush it,” he had whispered. “I’ll be right here waiting. The second you get back, I’m putting a ring on your finger.” That day, his shirt had smelled like a faint, expensive perfume. Not the cologne I bought him. Now I knew. It was Lily’s perfume. 3 I scheduled a full panel at the clinic the next day. The specialist stared at my chart, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Margo, looking at these numbers…” “Give it to me straight.” “Severe endometriosis, coupled with advanced ovarian decline.” She pushed her glasses up her nose. “The chances of you conceiving naturally are practically zero.” I gripped the edge of the printed report so hard the paper sliced into my thumb. “Is it because of the desert?” “Chronic stress, severe sleep deprivation, physical exhaustion, and exposure to extreme temperatures…” The doctor offered a sympathetic smile. “You’re still young. If we start aggressive hormone therapy now, there might be a sliver of hope.” Walking out of the clinic, the hallway felt suffocatingly long. It was lined with pregnant women. They were rubbing their bellies, glowing with a soft, quiet kind of joy. One husband was kneeling on the linoleum, pressing his ear against his wife’s stomach to listen for a kick. I turned my shoulder, slipped past them, and pushed open the heavy fire door to the stairwell. It was empty and echoing. I sank to the concrete steps and buried my face in my knees. Don’t cry. If you cry, they win. Three days later, the company hosted its annual gala. I planned to skip it, but Rachel practically dragged me out of my chair. “You’re a senior engineer. Skipping makes you look like a coward.” I threw on a plain black slip dress and stood in the darkest corner of the ballroom. The bass from the speakers thumped in my chest. The chandeliers were blinding. Christopher and Lily made their entrance, and the crowd swarmed them like royalty. “Mr. Reed! Lily! Congratulations!” “Number two on the way! You guys are truly blessed!” Lily beamed, her manicured hand resting protectively over her slight bump. Christopher had his arm locked around her waist. He looked down at her with a gaze so soft and devoted it made my stomach turn. A few people noticed me lingering in the shadows. Whispers rippled through the crowd before they went back to clinking glasses. Lily spotted me. She wove through the crowd, her bump leading the way. “Margo. Long time no see.” I took a slow sip of my champagne. “Congrats.” “Thanks.” She stroked her stomach. “We did the early genetics test. It’s a girl. Christopher is over the moon. He keeps saying he wants her to look exactly like me.” She took a step closer, dropping her voice so only I could hear. “You know what’s funny? Christopher told me that if he hadn’t shipped you off, he would have dragged his feet for years trying to choose between us.” “What’s your point?” “My point is,” she smiled, showing perfectly white teeth, “thank you for stepping aside. If you hadn’t made that little sacrifice, we wouldn’t have this beautiful life.” My hand started to shake. A drop of champagne spilled over the rim, soaking into my black dress. “Lily,” I locked eyes with her, “do you have any idea what happened while you were carrying your first kid? I was out in the Mojave. It was freezing at night. I was running a hundred-and-four-degree fever in a metal trailer, completely delirious. I almost died.” She blinked, utterly unfazed. “And?” “I called him. Seventeen times. He never picked up.” “Oh, that was our anniversary.” Her smile deepened. “He was helping me pick out my wedding dress.” I took a sharp breath, the air burning my lungs. “It was an Oscar de la Renta,” she added casually. “The limited edition one with the pearl embroidery on the bodice.” I had tried that exact dress on five years ago. Christopher had stood outside the fitting room and told me, “When we get married, that’s the one.” He just never meant we. I slammed my glass down on a passing waiter’s tray and headed for the exit. Christopher materialized out of the crowd, blocking my path. He looked at me, his jaw tight. “Margo…” “Don’t say my name.” My voice was dead. “You make me sick.” I pushed through the revolving doors. It was pouring outside, the city lights bleeding into a blurry mess of rain. I stood under the awning, letting the cold air hit my face. Footsteps echoed behind me. Christopher had followed me out. He held out a sleek black umbrella. “Take it. You’re going to freeze.” “Why do you care?” He went quiet for a second. “I know you hate me.” “I don’t hate you.” I looked at him, feeling nothing but a vast, hollow emptiness. “I just feel stupid for wasting five years of my life on a stray dog.” “Those five years…” “Those five years,” I cut him off, my voice slicing through the sound of the rain, “I was working sixteen-hour shifts in the dirt. My periods stopped for months at a time. My hair was falling out in clumps. I survived every single day by telling myself I was coming home to marry you.” The color drained completely from his face. “And you,” a dark laugh escaped me, “spent those five years getting married, playing house, and knocking her up twice.” “I’m sorry.” “What is that word supposed to do for me?” I took a step toward him. “Christopher, you are so pathetic I can’t even muster the energy to hate you. You just make me feel like a joke.” The rain was coming down in sheets now. He opened the umbrella, trying to step closer to shield me. I smacked his hand away and walked out from under the awning, straight into the storm. The water was freezing, soaking me to the bone in seconds. 4 A week later, my phone rang. It was my mother. She was hysterical. “Margo, your father is in the ICU!” I booked the first flight home. My dad, who already had a fragile heart, was lying in a hospital bed looking like a ghost. My mom grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my skin. “Someone mailed your father a package. They said… they said you were a homewrecker. That you slept your way through the company and tried to ruin a married man’s life.” “Mom, that’s a lie!” “They sent photos!” She was sobbing uncontrollably. “Chat logs between you and that Christopher guy. Statements from people at your office!” I snatched the manila envelope off the bedside table. The photos were deepfakes. The text threads were fabricated. But they looked terrifyingly real. “Dad, you have to listen to me, none of this is real…” My father slowly opened his eyes and looked at me for a long time. “I believe you, kid.” He forced a weak smile. Then his eyes rolled back. The heart monitor flatlined, a shrill, piercing scream filling the room. Doctors flooded in. I was shoved out into the hallway. Christopher was standing by the elevator banks. He was holding a ridiculously expensive floral arrangement. “I came to check on your dad.” He looked incredibly uncomfortable. A passing nurse murmured to her colleague, “That Mr. Reed is such a class act. Coming to see his crazy ex’s dying father.” I stared at him. Something inside me simply snapped. I lunged forward and slapped him across the face with everything I had. The sound echoed down the corridor like a gunshot. The flowers crashed to the floor, glass shattering everywhere. “You did this!” “Margo, I have no idea what you’re talking about…” “Don’t lie to me!” I grabbed him by the lapels of his custom suit, shaking him. “Those photos. Those fake texts. Who else had that kind of access? Who else wants to destroy me?” He gripped my wrists, trying to peel me off. “Margo, calm down!” “How the hell am I supposed to calm down!” I was screaming now, my throat burning. “If my dad dies, I swear to God I’ll kill you!” The doors to the ICU swung open. The lead surgeon walked out, slowly pulling off his surgical mask. “I’m so sorry. We did everything we could.” My entire universe collapsed into dust. The funeral was three days later. My mother wouldn’t even let me inside the chapel. “Get out,” she hissed through the cracked door of the vestibule. “Your father wouldn’t want you here.” I knelt on the wet pavement outside the church doors from sunrise to sunset. In the late afternoon, a black town car pulled up. Christopher and Lily stepped out. They arranged a massive wreath of white lilies by the entrance. The ribbon read: In deepest sympathy. Christopher Reed and Lily Harper. Lily looked down at me, her face a picture of pious sorrow. “My condolences.” I looked up at Christopher. If looks could physically eviscerate a man, he would have been gutted on the church steps. He went pale and looked away. Lily tugged at his sleeve. “Let’s go, honey.” They got back in their car and drove off. Finally, my mother pushed the doors open. She looked down at me, her eyes hollowed out with absolute hatred. “Are you happy now? He’s dead. Is this what you wanted?” I dragged myself forward on my knees, trying to grab her hand. “Mom…” “Don’t touch me!” She shoved me back hard. “I don’t have a daughter anymore.” I collapsed onto the concrete, pressing my forehead against the cold, damp stone. On the seventh day after my father’s death, HR called. “Margo Brooks, your employment is terminated effectively immediately.” Brenda’s voice was pure ice. “The board found you guilty of severe ethical violations. We have evidence that during your deployment, you engaged in inappropriate relationships with multiple male subordinates.” I sprinted to the corporate tower and barged straight into the HR department. “Where is the proof?” The HR director tossed a stack of glossy photos onto the conference table. They were candid shots of me and my male colleagues working late at the desert site, looking exhausted, drinking beers on the hoods of trucks. But someone had added filthy, suggestive captions to every single one. “This is slander!” “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.” The director crossed her arms. “Reed Enterprises does not tolerate this kind of liability.” I took the elevator straight to the executive floor to find Christopher. His assistant physically blocked the door. “Mr. Reed is in a board meeting.” I sat in the lobby until the sun went down. When he finally walked out, he froze when he saw me. “I know why you’re here.” He loosened his tie, looking exhausted. “The board made a decision. My hands are tied.” “Christopher, you set me up.” “It wasn’t me.” He frowned. “Lily told me…” “You just swallow whatever poison Lily feeds you?” I backed him into the glass wall of the boardroom. “She murdered my father. Now she’s trying to erase me from the industry. And you’re just going to hold the door open for her?” He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Margo, you need to get a grip.” “I have a grip.” I whispered. “I just want to know how you sleep at night.” He didn’t answer. I turned and walked away. When I stepped out of the lobby into the street, a small crowd was waiting. A dozen people, holding up camera phones and makeshift signs. Internet trolls who had eaten up whatever PR spin Lily had leaked online. “Homewrecker!” “Corporate trash!” “Get out of our city!” Someone threw a heavy paper cup. It exploded against my chest. Red paint. It dripped off my chin, soaking through my shirt, splashing onto my shoes. I stood paralyzed on the sidewalk, dripping red. Christopher’s car pulled out of the underground garage and braked sharply. He threw the door open, yelling at the security guards to scatter the crowd. He walked over to me, looking at the mess, and let out a long, frustrated sigh. “Margo, why can’t you just walk away with some dignity? Why do you have to push things to the brink?” I slowly wiped my face. The red smeared across my cheek, dripping from my fingertips. “Dignity?” I looked at him and laughed. “What dignity did you leave me?” He didn’t have an answer. He got back in his car and drove away. When I got back to my apartment, the locks were changed again. My suitcase was sitting in the hallway. The landlord poked his head out of the adjacent door. “I packed your stuff. Grab it and get lost.” “Are you serious? Why?” “People have been calling the management office all day. Saying you’re a degenerate, that you’re ruining the building’s reputation.” He waved me off like a stray dog. “Lease is terminated.” I sat on the floor next to my suitcase. It was the exact same bag I had dragged out to the desert five years ago. Nothing had changed. And yet, I had lost absolutely everything. I spent the night sitting on a plastic chair inside a 24-hour diner. Through the greasy window, I watched the city wake up in the morning light. It was a beautiful skyline. But I never wanted to see it again.

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