Category: English

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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1 “911, what is your emergency?” “My upstairs neighbors… someone is sawing through bone.” “Address, ma’am? We are dispatching units right now.” “Never mind.” “Excuse me?” “The sawing stopped. Now I hear a mop. A soaking wet mop, cleaning up blood.” “Ma’am! Please lock your doors, officers are on the way!” Click. The line went dead. Five minutes later, the cops kicked the upstairs door open. The married couple was sitting calmly at their dining table, gorging on a late night roast. A reciprocating saw rested on the balcony. They had just used it to cut through a frozen rack of venison. Jax wiped greasy barbecue sauce from the corner of his mouth and smirked at the officers. “Let me guess. The crazy bitch downstairs? Is this her eleventh time calling?” The cops packed up and left in sheer frustration. None of them noticed the ceiling of the apartment directly below them. Dozens of black acoustic stethoscopes were taped to the plaster like a cluster of dead insect eyes, absorbing every single vibration from above. Harper pulled off her studio headphones. She picked up a pen and crossed out a single line in her notebook. Test complete. The hunt begins. … The moment the cruisers pulled away, the footsteps upstairs turned vicious. Jax deliberately put on his heavy steel toed work boots. He paced back and forth directly over my bedroom. Every single thud felt like a nail being driven straight into my temples. Thump. Thump. Thump. Each muffled boom was a calculated message of pure mockery. Then came the shouting. The floorboards in this rotting walkup were paper thin. His voice was so crisp he might as well have been screaming right into my ear. “Fucking psycho! Next time you call the cops, I am going to bury you!” I huddled behind my front door. Peering through the peephole, I watched Jax’s face contorting in blind rage. He was kicking my door frame. Dust and chipped paint rained down from the ceiling. I shivered violently. Tears pooled in my eyes. I looked exactly like a terrified, helpless victim. Jax finally got tired of screaming. He spat a thick wad of phlegm onto my welcome mat and stomped back upstairs. From the stairwell, Roxy’s timid voice echoed. “Babe, just drop it. If she is actually schizophrenic…” Smack. A vicious slap cut her off instantly. “Shut your mouth! I don’t need you telling me what to do. Get inside!” A heavy door slammed shut. The stairwell fell back into dead silence. I slowly straightened my spine. I wiped the tears away. The pathetic terror on my face evaporated into thin air. The neurotic trembling stopped entirely. What replaced it was a cold, mechanical stillness. I turned around, walked into my bedroom, and pushed open the hidden door behind my wardrobe. Welcome to my fully enclosed, professional grade soundproof studio. The walls were lined with thick acoustic foam. It was so deathly quiet in here that I could hear my own blood pumping through my veins. On the monitor, a digital waveform was still spiking, mapping out the exact frequency of Jax’s kicks against my door. I slipped on my high end studio monitors. My finger gently nudged the slider on the mixing board. The audio from upstairs was amplified tenfold and pumped directly into my skull. I heard Jax’s heavy, animalistic panting. I heard Roxy’s muffled sobbing. I heard the harsh screech of a wooden chair dragging across linoleum. “Stop crying! One more squeak and I will stitch your mouth shut!” Jax’s roar clipped the audio, turning the waveform violently red. My face remained entirely blank. I stared at the screen, then picked up a massive watermelon I had kept on my desk. My right hand gripped a heavy steel claw hammer. I raised it high. I brought it down with everything I had. Squlech. The melon exploded. Thick red juice splattered all over my face and chest. The sound was heavy, wet, and sickeningly dense. It sounded exactly like a blunt object caving in a human skull. I clicked stop and saved the file. File name: Jax_Skull_V1.0 Looking at the flawless waveform on my screen, a slow smile crept onto my lips. Audio never lies. Only the people listening to it do. 2 Your anger is only hitting forty decibels, Jax. It is far too weak. Tonight, I am going to introduce you to absolute terror. Two in the morning. Dead quiet. I pulled out a custom built resonance speaker pole and pressed it firmly against the exact center of my bedroom ceiling. That specific spot was directly beneath Jax and Roxy’s mattress. This piece of gear operated on bone conduction technology. It forced sound waves straight through the floorboards, only vibrating the specific surface it made contact with. In layman’s terms, only the people lying on that specific mattress could hear the broadcast. I opened a folder on my desktop labeled Bedfellow. I double clicked an audio file. It was the sound of a man breathing heavily. I had run it through an EQ filter to make it sound intensely intimate. If you closed your eyes, you could almost feel the hot breath hitting the back of your neck. Playback started. Upstairs, Jax rolled over. Through my headphones, I caught his groggy muttering. The noise had pulled him out of sleep. The broadcasted breathing continued. It was steady, deep, and completely out of sync with Jax’s own chest. It sounded exactly like a third man was lying right between him and his wife. Jax sat bolt upright. His breathing hitched. “Who is there?” He bellowed into the dark, followed immediately by the sharp click of a bedside lamp. I slammed the pause button. Complete silence blanketed the room above, broken only by Roxy’s groggy complaints. “What the hell is wrong with you? It is two in the morning.” “You didn’t hear that? Someone was just breathing right next to me!” “There is nobody here. You had a nightmare. Go to sleep.” Jax clicked off the lamp and laid back down. I waited five full minutes until his breathing leveled out again. This time, I layered in a new track. The distinct rustle of fabric. Swish. Swish. The unmistakable sound of a man pulling on his clothes, or slipping out of bed. Jax shot up like a coiled spring. He didn’t even bother with the light this time. He vaulted off the mattress and started tearing the room apart. Closet doors were ripped open. Hangers clattered. He swept underneath the bed and violently yanked the curtains back. “Come out! Get the fuck out here!” He roared around the bedroom like a trapped, rabid animal. Roxy was terrified. She started bawling. “Jax, you are losing your mind! It is just us in here! What guy?” “I heard him perfectly! Right next to my fucking pillow!” He tore the place apart until dawn and found absolutely nothing. Early the next morning, Jax stomped out of the building with heavy, dark bags under his eyes. I stood perfectly still behind my curtains, watching his truck speed out of the parking lot. The moment he was gone, I flipped the switch on my signal jammer. It was a transmitter specifically calibrated for the cheap surveillance mic Jax had recently installed in their living room. I knew he had cameras. The wiring on that budget junk was notoriously unshielded. Hit it with enough magnetic interference, and I could inject my own audio feed directly into his cloud storage. I stood in my kitchen downstairs, brewing a fresh pot of coffee. I tapped my fingernails against the countertop. Tap. Tap. Tap. Three rhythmic knocks. The universal signal for a secret lover. Immediately after, I broadcasted a synthesized sequence of sounds. A man unlocking the door. Heavy boots stepping inside. The door clicking shut. These frequencies traveled through the ventilation shafts, feeding perfectly into Jax’s living room mic. It took less than twenty minutes for his truck to come squealing back into the lot. Heavy boots thundered up the stairwell. Jax kicked his own front door open with a deafening crash. “Where is he! Bring him out right now!” Roxy had been watching daytime television. The explosive entrance made her scream in pure terror. “What is your problem! I am just watching a show!” “I heard him knock! I heard a guy walk into my house!” Jax charged into the bedroom, ripping the sheets off the mattress. He even lunged onto the balcony, looking over the edge to see if someone had jumped. The apartment was empty. The canned laughter from the reality show echoed through the living room, sounding incredibly mocking. “Where are you hiding him, Roxy? Tell me!” 3 Jax grabbed Roxy by the hair and dragged her into the center of the living room. “You cheating whore! You think you can play me?” Once the seed of doubt is planted, every single sound becomes undeniable proof. I sat in my studio downstairs, elegantly sipping my coffee. Through the headphones, Roxy’s agonizing screams mixed with the dull, meaty thuds of fists hitting flesh. It was a beautiful sound. Far more intoxicating than any symphony. Roxy eventually broke free and ran downstairs, sobbing hysterically. She pounded on my door with everything she had. Her voice was drenched in absolute despair. “Open up! Please open the door! Help me!” I took my time hiding my equipment. I plastered a look of sheer panic onto my face and cracked the door open. Roxy shoved her way inside. Her face was bruised purple and blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. When she saw the bloodstained kitchen knife in my hand, she shrieked and nearly collapsed onto the floor. “Don’t worry. I was just slicing a watermelon.” I calmly pointed to the crushed fruit on my table. Red juice dripped steadily onto the floorboards. Still hyperventilating, Roxy clutched her chest, her eyes wide with terror. I set the knife down, grabbed my first aid kit, and began tending to her split lip. “Did he do this to you?” I asked, playing completely dumb. Roxy’s tears spilled over. “He lost his mind. He is convinced there is a man hiding in the apartment. He is going to kill me.” I let out a long, heavy sigh and pulled a digital voice recorder from my pocket. “Actually… I have been hearing things too.” Roxy’s head snapped up. She stared intensely at me. “Hearing what?” I pressed play. Jax’s gravelly, sinister voice hissed from the tiny speaker. “I am getting rid of that useless hag this week. Did you confirm the accidental death policy?” All the color drained from Roxy’s face. Her lips trembled so violently she couldn’t form a single word. The audio was entirely fabricated. I had spliced together clips of Jax swearing, layered over artificial static to make it sound like a covert phone call. But in her traumatized state, Roxy possessed zero critical thinking skills. She bought every word. “There is more,” I whispered, leaning in close. “Every single night, I hear him sharpening a blade. Scraping metal against stone. Over and over again. Right on your balcony.” Roxy’s pupils dilated in absolute horror. Her entire body began to shake. Right on cue, Jax’s thunderous roar echoed through the stairwell. “Get out here! I know you are down there!” Roxy grabbed my arm, her nails digging deep into my skin. “Hide me.” I pointed toward the reinforced wall of my studio. “Go in there. It is heavily soundproofed. He won’t find you.” Clinging to the offer like a lifeline, Roxy scrambled inside. Jax booted my door so hard the hinges groaned. I opened it, adopting the posture of a timid, terrified neighbor. “She… she isn’t here…” Jax shoved me aside and barged into my living room. He scanned the area like a predator. The studio door was perfectly concealed. It just looked like a blank wall. Finding nothing, he turned around and jammed a thick finger right in my face. “If I find out you are hiding her, I will put you in the ground right next to her!” He stormed out, cursing under his breath. I locked the door and let Roxy out of the panic room. “He is going to kill me. He is really going to kill me for the insurance money.” She collapsed onto my sofa, her eyes burning with pure, unadulterated hatred. “In this building, the only people who don’t make a sound are dead.” I murmured the words softly while handing her a glass of water. Roxy took the glass. Her hands were shaking so badly water sloshed onto the rug. Looking at her terrified, vengeful eyes, a wave of icy satisfaction washed over me. I still remembered the perjury she committed years ago. I remembered every single lie she told. You stood there and said it was a tragic accident. You said my fiancé slipped and fell on his own. Now, it is your turn to feel what it is like to have nowhere left to run. 4 Before Roxy slipped out of my apartment, she wedged a miniature recording bug deep between my sofa cushions. She really thought I didn’t notice. Pulling an amateur stunt like that in my house was beyond laughable. I didn’t remove the bug. Instead, I leaned down and whispered a sentence that only the microphone would catch. “Phase two is a go. Jax needs to die tonight.” Then, I pulled out my phone and dialed Jax’s number. “Hey, is this Jax?” “Who the fuck is this?” His voice was exhausted and wired with rage. “It is Harper from downstairs. Your wife is still here.” Dead silence on the line for two seconds, followed by a volcanic scream. “I fucking knew it!” “Just listen to me,” I hissed, pouring fake panic into my tone. “She was just talking to someone. She said she is going to kill you. I don’t want any trouble, man. Just come get her.” Two minutes later, Jax was pounding on my door. I handed him the recording bug Roxy had hidden in my couch. Naturally, the audio file inside had already been completely swapped out. “She dropped this. I think you really need to hear it.” Jax snatched the device with furious, bloodshot eyes and hit play. Roxy’s hushed voice played back, masked by heavy electrical static I had mixed in to sound like a covert rendezvous. “We do it tonight. I bought the powder. I will slip it into his beer. He won’t even see it coming.” A deep male voice responded. “Don’t worry, babe. Once he is out of the picture, we grab the cash and vanish.” Jax’s face turned a violent shade of crimson. The veins in his neck looked ready to burst. He squeezed the little plastic recorder so hard his knuckles turned stark white. “Okay. Okay, let’s play.” He ground the words out through clenched teeth. He turned on his heel, radiating a murderous, suffocating aura. Upstairs, Roxy was waiting. She probably thought I had successfully pacified her husband. She was probably dreaming of her grand escape. She had no idea the grim reaper was already unlocking her front door. After sending Jax away, I rushed back into the studio to set the final stage. I dusted the floorboards with a fine layer of flour. I suspended dozens of hyper sensitive condenser microphones from the ceiling. I switched on a set of blinding strobe lights. Finally, I attached the heavy duty low frequency transducer to the ceiling. Frequency set to eighteen hertz. That is the exact frequency of infrasound. The human ear cannot hear it, but the sound waves physically vibrate the eyeballs. It triggers severe optical illusions, blurred vision, and a deep, primal sense of impending doom. I was going to dial their paranoia up to the absolute maximum. Within minutes, the crashing started upstairs. Furniture shattering. Vicious interrogations. Then came Roxy’s bloodcurdling screams, accompanied by the heavy, sickening thuds of a body hitting the floor. I grabbed my burner phone and dialed 911. “I need to report a massive narcotics stash. My upstairs neighbors are cooking meth and holding large quantities of drugs.” I didn’t say murder. I said drugs. Because I knew for a fact Jax had a massive stash hidden up there. It was his biggest vulnerability. His absolute Achilles heel. The SWAT team arrived with terrifying speed. Shouting, battering rams, heavy boots tearing through the apartment. Jax denied everything, of course. But he had no idea the cops were making a beeline straight for his secret floorboard compartment. Roxy had given me the exact location hours ago. Even though Jax had managed to flush the bulk of the product down the toilet when the sirens blared, the heavy chemical residue and glass pipes were impossible to hide. They dragged Jax out in handcuffs, taking him down to the precinct for a mandatory tox screen. Roxy had survived the night. She probably thought she had won the war. But I knew better. This was merely the eye of the hurricane. A hardened street thug like Jax would definitely find a loophole, or at least post bail before dawn. And the second he walked back into this building, it would be a fight to the death.

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The day my brother was reclaimed by his wealthy biological family, he knelt before them, eyes red and brimming with tears. “My sister is the only family I have. If she doesn’t come with me, I’m not going back.” Mr. and Mrs. Stone had no choice but to bring me to the estate. Upon arrival, Chloe—the fake heiress who had stolen my brother’s identity for eighteen years—was insufferable. Spoiled and arrogant, she constantly targeted us. Initially, my brother found her annoying, snapping back whenever our parents told him to accommodate her. “Susan is my only sister.” But he stopped saying that. Eventually, he started comparing us. “I wish you were as outgoing as Chloe. You’re always so quiet. It’s boring.” Then, he forgot my birthday. Again. I didn’t protest, quietly baking a small cake in the kitchen. The moment I finished icing it, he snatched the plate and carried it to Chloe. “Her custom cake was ruined in delivery. Give this to her.” Heartbroken, I stayed silent for the rest of the night. Seeing my silence, impatience filled his eyes. “Are you seriously throwing a tantrum over a cake? If you didn’t want to give it to her, you should have just said so.” Chloe pouted against the counter. “I told you your sister was petty, but you didn’t believe me. I don’t understand why you dragged this dead weight into our house.” This time, my brother didn’t defend me. I realized then that even he now saw me as a burden. … It took me four entire hours to bake that cake. And now, it was completely destroyed. Mashed to pieces by a silver fork. The letter “L” for Susan, which I had painstakingly spelled out using dried blueberries, had been aggressively scooped out. It was smeared together with the plastic “Happy Birthday” topper, completely coated in ruined frosting. Chloe grabbed it with a paper napkin and tossed it straight into the trash can like a piece of garbage. Her voice rang in my ears, dripping with disgust. “What is this gross stuff? It tastes awful! It’s nothing compared to what our Michelin-star chef makes!” “You’re just a picky eater,” my brother teased. His words sounded like a complaint, but his eyes were full of pure adoration. “If you don’t want it, just throw it away. I’ll have the chef make you a new one.” “Deal! But tell him to use icing to write ‘Liam Stone will be Chloe’s servant forever’ on top! That’s what you get for stealing Mom and Dad’s love the second you got here, and for always taking this dead weight’s side!” In the past, my brother and Chloe were like oil and water. He used to hate it when anyone called me “dead weight.” Now, he didn’t even blink. He just chuckled, affectionately ruffling Chloe’s hair, his voice full of helpless indulgence. “Alright, alright. I’m terrified of you. It’s all my fault, okay?” They flirted openly, completely ignoring my presence. It made me feel like I was the intruder in this house. And honestly, I was. My brother was the biological son the Stones had lost eighteen years ago. Even though Chloe was the child swapped at birth, she had grown up surrounded by luxury and wealth. She already had a deep, unbreakable bond with Mr. and Mrs. Stone. The day they brought my brother home, they couldn’t bear to let Chloe go, so they officially adopted her. From start to finish, they were a real family. I was the only extra piece. When I woke up this morning and saw my brother’s social media post—a photo of him and Chloe smiling at a theme park—I knew he had forgotten my birthday again. I had already stopped hoping he would spend my birthday with me. But why couldn’t I even keep a single, stupid cake? The tears I had been fighting back finally slipped out, falling heavily onto the expensive marble floor. My brother frowned. Out of habit, he reached out to wipe my tears away like he used to. “What are you crying for?” Chloe suddenly let out a cruel, mocking laugh. “You ate one piece of her cake and she’s acting like the world is ending? She’s been sulking all night! I bet her ‘good girl’ routine is completely fake.” “Liam, you spoil her way too much. That’s why she acts like such a drama queen.” My brother’s hand froze in mid-air. He pulled it back, the warmth completely draining from his face. “This isn’t your old house anymore. You live under the Stone roof and eat Stone food. It’s just a cake. Don’t act so petty and embarrass everyone.” Seeing the cold impatience in his eyes, my heart turned to ice, inch by inch. The day Liam was reclaimed by the Stone family, I stayed awake all night. I was incredibly happy for him, but I was also terrified of being left behind in the slums. Sensing my fear, he held me tight and promised me over and over again. “I will never abandon you, Susan. Wherever my home is, your home is.” But now, he was standing here telling me… This isn’t your old house. I didn’t know when it happened, but in his heart, I had already become a burden. “I understand.” I nodded numbly, hearing my own voice tremble. “Liam. I think I’ll just move out.” Chloe rolled her eyes dramatically. “You make it sound like living in a mansion is some kind of torture! You have no royal blood, but you sure have princess syndrome! Are you really using the ‘runaway’ card for attention?” Liam’s face darkened. “What kind of tantrum are you throwing now?” I spoke softly. “I’m not throwing a tantrum. I just think living in the school dorms will be better for my studying.” But Liam’s frown only deepened. “Don’t I know you? You wait until right now to say you want to move out? You’re just doing this to spite me over that stupid cake!” “Enough. If you want a cake so badly, I’ll have the kitchen bake you one right now.” He didn’t spare me another glance. He turned to Chloe, a fond smile returning to his face as he used a tissue to wipe a smudge of frosting off the corner of her mouth. “You’re acting like a toddler. You got frosting all over your face.” “Mom and Dad say I’ll always be their baby! Do you have a problem with that?” “Okay, okay. You’re our forever baby.” I couldn’t stand being in that room another second. I turned around and walked silently up the grand staircase. After texting my teacher to apply for a dorm room, I sat on my bed, staring blankly at my carefully decorated bedroom. The expensive, handcrafted teddy bear on the bed. The rare orchids on the windowsill. The custom bookshelf perfectly designed so I could reach the top shelf. The soothing nightlight on the nightstand. Every single item had been meticulously chosen by my brother when we first moved into the Stone estate. Even the layout of the room had been specially designed to match my tiny bedroom in our old slum apartment, just so I wouldn’t feel homesick. He had said… “This is our home now. We used to be so poor I couldn’t even afford to buy you a decent bookshelf.” “Now I have the money. I want to give you the best of everything. I will never let you suffer again.” I was so happy back then. We had moved into a mansion I couldn’t even dream of. We didn’t have to stress over water and electricity bills anymore. I didn’t have to lie awake during storms, terrified the roof would leak and flood the apartment. And my brother didn’t have to work three grueling jobs, starting before dawn, just to scrape together enough money for my tuition. I thought everything was finally going to be okay. I never imagined that the price for this perfect life would be losing him completely. A sudden knock on the door pulled me out of my thoughts. When I opened it, a beautifully wrapped cake box was shoved right into my face. Liam popped his head out from behind it. “Happy birthday, Susan!” Seeing my red, swollen eyes, a flash of genuine guilt crossed his face. “I’m sorry. I just remembered it was your birthday today.” For a split second, I thought I saw the old Liam—the brother who used to put me first. I held the heavy cake box in my hands. It felt like finding a warm fire in the middle of a freezing blizzard. I stepped back, letting him walk into the room, my heart wavering. But that wavering hope was completely shattered the second I opened the box. The cake was entirely covered in freshly sliced mangoes. My lips parted, and I managed to choke out a single sentence. “Liam. Did you forget? I’m highly allergic to mangoes.” Liam’s eyebrows immediately snapped together. For a very long time after that day, I could never forget the look in his eyes. It was the look you give a piece of trash that’s in your way. He clicked his tongue, his tone instantly turning hostile. “If there are things you can’t eat, you should have told me earlier. Now you’re just wasting food.” As he spoke, he grabbed a fork and aggressively scraped every single piece of mango off the cake, then shoved the mangled dessert back toward me. “Chloe specifically told the chef to make this for you to apologize. She knows you like orchids, so she asked him to pipe buttercream flowers. She thought you’d love it.” “She can be a little blunt sometimes, but she has a good heart. You need to eat at least one bite, or she’s going to be very upset.” My throat tightened. I dug my fingernails so hard into my palms that they bled, but I didn’t even feel the pain. I just repeated myself, numbly. “But I’m allergic to mangoes.” Liam snapped back. “That’s why I scraped them off! You can eat a little bit, it won’t kill you.” Just then, Chloe pushed the door open and strolled in. “Does Susan hate the cake I ordered? I’ve been trying to cheer her up forever. Why is she so hard to please?” Before I could even open my mouth, Liam spoke up for her. “It’s the thought that counts. Even if she hates it, she has to accept it.” “Good! Now that you’re done babysitting, hurry up and come downstairs! I hate the designs the chef did for the first few cakes. Come help me eat them so we can throw them out!” My brother laughed, shaking his head. “Are you treating me like a human garbage disposal?” “No way! You’re my favorite brother in the whole world, okay?” Liam stiffened for a second. “You only ever call me ‘brother’ when you want something. I swear I owe you from a past life.” He complained, but his eyes were shining with absolute joy. So it was true. He had simply run out of patience for me. When it was Chloe, throwing away entire cakes wasn’t a “waste.” When it was Chloe, just hearing her call him “brother” made him ecstatic. Now, no matter what I did, I was nothing but an annoyance. The very next day, I quietly packed my bags and moved into the school dorms. I barely slept. Every waking second was spent aggressively studying for exams or working part-time jobs around the city. The exhausting, non-stop schedule kept my brain completely occupied, leaving me no time to think about anything else. Until the day my brother finally called me. The second I answered, he immediately started screaming. “Susan! Why haven’t you come home yet?!” “You used to be so well-behaved, and now you’re staying out all night?!” I answered him calmly. “I told you before. I moved into the dorms.” “Who gave you permission?! Are you feeling brave now? Is this your late rebellious phase? Get your ass back to this house right now!” I stayed completely silent. When I didn’t answer, he let out a dark, furious laugh. “Fine. Then don’t ever come back! Let’s see how long you survive out there on your own!” For the next few weeks, I stuck to my routine. Classes, studying, working. As the national college entrance exams drew closer, I started to feel a sense of peace. The dust was finally settling. Until three days before the exams, when Liam suddenly called me again. His voice was hoarse and incredibly exhausted. “Susan. I’m at the hospital.” “You haven’t been home in so long. I want to see you.” My grip tightened on my phone. Ever since his heart started leaning toward Chloe, this was the first time he had ever softened his tone and reached out to me. I thought about the early admission letter I had just received from a prestigious university up north. I thought about the money I had saved up from my jobs—enough to leave this city and start over. I hesitated for a long time, but eventually, I answered. “Okay.” This would probably be the last time we ever saw each other. I didn’t want to leave with any regrets. I wanted to tell him that I got accepted early. That I was moving up north. That I would never be his burden again. That I would never bother him again. But I had no idea what was waiting for me. When I rushed into the hospital room and pushed the door open, I was instantly met with a vicious slap across the face. A stranger—a middle-aged woman—lunged at me like a wild animal. She punched me, kicked me, and grabbed a handful of my hair, yanking me downward. “You’re the one who hid the needles in her pencil case! You sliced her hand open!” “The exams are in two days! If she hadn’t noticed the blood, my daughter’s entire future would have been destroyed because of you!” “You’re only eighteen! How can you be so evil?!” I shoved her away, totally disoriented and in shock. “I didn’t do anything! I don’t even know who your daughter is!” “Susan, stop lying! I saw you shoving the needles into her pencil case with my own eyes!” Chloe stepped out from behind the angry mother, pointing directly at me with absolute certainty. My face turned to ice. “Why would I put needles in a stranger’s pencil case? You have zero proof. How dare you accuse me?” “Who says we don’t have proof?” The second I heard Liam’s voice, the blood in my veins completely froze. He held up his phone, playing a video clip. Because of the terrible camera angle, the footage showed me sneaking up to a student’s desk and slipping something into their pencil case. Suddenly, I remembered. The teacher from the neighboring class had asked me to drop off a reward pen on the desk of their top-ranked student. It was a pen. Not needles. But before I could even explain, the furious mother screamed. “Chloe saw you do it! We have witnesses and video evidence, and you’re still denying it?!” I turned my head and looked directly at Liam. I gritted my teeth and asked him one question. “Did you see it with your own eyes too?” Liam avoided my gaze. He stayed completely silent for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough. “Susan. I know you’re jealous, and I know you target Chloe at home. But I never thought you would actually attack a classmate. I am so disappointed in you.” I stared at him in sheer disbelief. With that one sentence, he had officially labeled me a violent criminal. “I can’t believe the school let a monster like you walk the halls! I’m going straight to the principal! I’m going to make sure the entire city knows what kind of psycho you are!” The furious mother stormed out of the hospital room, slamming the door behind her. I looked at Liam, my entire body violently shaking. “Why?” His fists clenched tightly at his sides. His eyes were a chaotic storm of emotions. He lowered his voice. “Susan. Chloe didn’t mean to do it. She just wanted to play a prank. She didn’t think it would escalate this far.” “If Mom and Dad find out, they’ll be completely devastated. Chloe is used to being the perfect daughter. This is the first time I’ve ever seen her cry this hard. She’s terrified.” By the time he finished speaking, his voice was dripping with pure heartbreak—for Chloe. I stared at him, pronouncing every single word with lethal precision. “So you played the victim over the phone just to lure me here, so you could force me to take the fall for Chloe?” His breathing hitched. He forced the words out of his throat. “I already secured a backup plan for you. I won’t let your life be ruined.” The absolute last shred of hope in my heart was ripped to shreds. I don’t even remember how I made it back to the school campus. All I remember are the disgusted glares from the other students, and the toxic whispers following me down the halls. “That’s her. She’s the one who hid the needles. It’s so dangerous having someone like her at this school!” “Why isn’t she in jail? She belongs behind bars. Fucking psycho.” Before I even made it to my classroom, I was called into the principal’s office. The principal slid a formal document across his desk. “The victim’s family is threatening to go to the press. They are demanding immediate action. Your early admission status has been officially revoked.” “Furthermore, the board has unanimously decided to expel you.” I stood there, frozen in place. My blood ran completely cold. I couldn’t understand it. I worked so incredibly hard to protect the tiny sliver of a future I had built for myself. But ever since I followed Liam to the Stone estate, all I had done was lose. I lost my brother. I lost my home. I lost my early admission. And now, I had lost my right to graduate high school. All I wanted to do was leave quietly. Why was it so hard? My phone buzzed in my pocket. Liam had sent me a file—a transfer agreement—and two plane tickets. “The Stone family helps fund a private academy in Los Angeles. I already pulled some strings. They are ready to accept your transfer.” “It’s too late for you to take the exams this year, but with your grades, you can easily retake your senior year and still get into a top-tier college.” “Once the exams are over here, I will fly to LA with you to help you settle in.” So he knew. He knew exactly what the consequences would be. He knew I would be completely destroyed. And he still chose to sacrifice me to save Chloe. I held the expulsion papers in my hands, walking like a zombie to the front gates of the school. I stood there for hours, until the security guard finally told me to leave. Two weeks later, the national exams were over. I was standing on the train platform, pulling my cheap suitcase behind me, about to board the bullet train. A text from Liam popped up on my screen. “I’m at the airport. Where are you?” I sent him one final message. “I am not going to LA with you. We are officially done.” The second the message delivered, Liam’s calls started flooding my phone, back to back. I didn’t answer a single one. I blocked his number. I blocked his social media. I completely erased him from my life. Then, I turned around and stepped onto the train. Goodbye forever, Liam.

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1 My college roommate, the one who used to swear she would never marry, suddenly blew up our old dorm group chat. “I’m in love! He’s so handsome and so gentle.” “He transferred five figures to me on Valentine’s Day.” “I used to think being single was great. Now I finally know what it feels like to be spoiled. Try not to be too jealous.” “Celine, your family is better off than all of ours. Why are you still single? Maybe reflect on yourself a little. @Celine.” “Too proud. Nobody wants that. @Celine.” “Dinner’s on me tonight. I’ll introduce you to my boyfriend.” The words I’m winning practically slapped me through the screen. The other two roommates and I endured the discomfort and went anyway. The moment I saw his face, I nearly dropped my glass. Wasn’t this my freeloading ex-boyfriend? The man sat across from me, his eyes sticky and unpleasant as they glued themselves to my face. Monica noticed nothing. She pressed herself against his arm, her voice full of undisguised pride. “This is Noah Price. He was one year ahead of us. My boyfriend.” Then she turned to him. “These three were my college roommates. My best friends.” Lana curled her lip. I quietly kicked her under the table. Back then, during late-night dorm talks, Monica used to slap her bed and declare, “Men are nothing but speed bumps.” Now, seeing her shy little smile, it was better to let that sentence rot in our stomachs. I pretended to drink water and avoided Noah’s gaze. He had been one year ahead of us and vice president of the student council. Refined looks, gentle voice, always polite. When I joined the student council as a sophomore, he took special care of me. One thing led to another, and we started dating. But he insisted on keeping it secret. His reason was that we were both in the student council. If people found out, they would gossip and affect our work. At the time, I thought it made sense, so I agreed to a secret relationship. It took me a year to see the calculating face beneath that gentlemanly skin. Whenever we went out to eat, he disappeared at the bill. After I paid, he would hold my hand with guilt in his eyes. “Baby, I made you spend again. You know my family’s situation. Don’t worry. I’ll work hard and pay you back double someday.” I would smile and say, “I believe you.” On the third day of dating, he told me everything. Sick parents, no jobs, younger siblings to raise, tuition paid by loans. My family was well-off, and because I cared about his fragile pride, I never showed the slightest superiority. Whenever I had no classes, I accompanied him to part-time jobs. Gradually, he worked less and less. His demands grew more and more. He no longer saved money on food or daily expenses either. Once, he ordered me to buy him a pair of limited-edition sneakers worth eight thousand dollars. I refused. He gave me the cold shoulder for a whole month because of it. During that time, I got sick and had a fever. He did not even show his face. I was done serving him. I broke up, blocked him, and moved on. The next day, he cornered me and demanded to know what I meant. “You can’t read plain language?” He exhaled hard, pointed at my nose, and cursed. “Celine Hart, what’s so great about you? You were just born into a good family. Who are you showing off to? You want to break up? Don’t regret it.” Seeing him lose his composure only made me more certain I had done the right thing. A year and a half of feelings went down the drain. Later, Noah graduated and got a job assignment, disappearing completely from my life. Never in my dreams did I think our reunion would happen like this. Monica was still talking, smiling like she could barely contain herself. She said she added Noah through an alumni group and took the initiative to chat with him. She even confessed that she had secretly liked him back in college but had been too shy to say it. They had been dating for half a year. Noah used to be in Bayside, thousands of miles away, so even seeing each other once had been a luxury. Recently, Noah sent his resume to companies in Hartwell City. Yesterday, he received an offer, so he dragged his suitcase here in a rush. Monica leaned on his shoulder, face full of sweetness. “He didn’t even tell me he resigned. He said he wanted to surprise me. It made me so embarrassed.” From the corner of my eye, I saw that Noah’s face held no joy at all. Lana looked at me, then at Jade beside her, and clicked her tongue. “So which company in Hartwell hired you, Noah?” “Hartwell Group,” Noah said calmly, though his pride was hard to hide. “Hartwell? Isn’t that…” Lana turned to me. “Isn’t that where Celine interns?” My heart tightened. I nodded without speaking. Lana and I were closest. We often chatted privately, so she was the only one who knew I was interning at Hartwell Group. Monica said in surprise, “What a coincidence. Noah is applying as a sales supervisor. For my sake, make sure he takes good care of you at work.” Then she looked up at Noah. “Right, babe?” Noah looked at me and said coldly, “Of course.” I lifted my glass to hide my unease. They did not know that my internship at Hartwell Group was under the identity of the chairman’s daughter. The entire company would be mine someday. And Noah said he would take care of me? The dinner finally ended. Jade and Lana had come by taxi. They were interning in a neighboring city. A black Mercedes slowly stopped in front of the hotel, temporary license plate still attached. Monica got out from the passenger seat and took the initiative to call them a ride. Jade and Lana stared at the car for a few seconds, then looked at Monica in unison. Monica smiled shyly. “Oh, stop. Noah just picked it up yesterday. He said it’ll be easier to drive me to and from work. I told him not to buy it, but he wouldn’t listen.” After saying that, she glanced at me. I played along. “Nice car. Your boyfriend treats you so well.” She covered her mouth and laughed so hard she trembled. The driver’s window rolled halfway down. I saw Noah’s lips curve faintly. The rideshare arrived quickly, and we watched Jade and Lana leave. Monica looked at me, alone now, and asked with a smile where I lived. She said she and Noah could drive me. I frowned and waved her off. “No need. I checked. There’s a subway nearby. I’ll go myself. You two go ahead.” Monica shrugged. “All right, then. We’re leaving.” Noah silently rolled up the window. Monica climbed into the passenger seat with tiny quick steps. The car drove off. Once it disappeared from view, I made a call. Five seconds later, a black Rolls-Royce Phantom pulled up steadily in front of me. The driver stepped out and respectfully opened the door. “Miss Hart, please.” The car rolled over the marks left by the Mercedes and drove forward. When I got home, my father was in the study handling documents. I leaned against the door and asked, “Dad, the company hired a new sales supervisor. Why didn’t I hear about it?” Dad put down the file and smiled at me. “Your news travels fast. It was decided temporarily. I was going to tell you tonight.” “Why that Noah Price?” I asked directly. He took a sip of tea and set the cup down. “I saw his resume. His sales performance is outstanding, and the company happens to have an opening for a sales supervisor. Three-month probation first.” “So he hasn’t been officially hired yet?” My tone brightened. Dad narrowed his eyes, sensing something. “You know him?” “He was one year above me in college. We worked together in student council.” I answered casually. I had never told my parents a word about dating him in college. Since it ended badly, there was even less reason to mention it. Dad nodded thoughtfully. “That’s good, then. Since you know each other, you can ask him for advice in sales.” I curled my lip. “Ask him?” I turned toward my room, my voice lazy. “Let’s see if he survives probation first.” Noah Price, are you ready for your new job? The next morning, the moment I entered the company, whispers from female employees drifted out with the bitter smell of coffee. The gist was simple. A young, handsome male supervisor had arrived. Was he single? Did they have a chance? I also vaguely heard someone say, “I heard this new supervisor was personally recruited by Secretary Lewis. His background must not be simple.” I assumed it was just a normal personnel transfer and did not think too deeply. This was my third month as an intern, an important stage. Whether I could stay depended entirely on my supervisor’s review. My father often traveled for work and did not care about small things like this. Now that he knew Noah and I were acquainted, he was probably even more at ease. When I joined, I specifically told him not to pull strings. So no one at the company knew who I was. Worried I might struggle in the workplace, Dad told his secretary, Mr. Lewis, to quietly look after me. Uncle Lewis had watched me grow up. Every few days, he came by the department to take a look around, mainly to check on me in secret. I had just reached my desk and pulled out my chair when my coworker, Hannah, came over. “Celine, the supervisor wants you in his office.” I had no choice but to get up and drag myself over impatiently. The moment I entered, Noah stared at me with a half-smile that made goosebumps rise all over my skin. He asked me to sit across from him, then brought over a cup of coffee. I got straight to the point. “What do you want?” He was unhurried, lips curling. His gaze moved over me through his glasses. “We haven’t seen each other for two years. Can’t we catch up?” I rolled my eyes and stood to leave. “Supervisor Price, if it isn’t work-related, I’m leaving.” “Celine.” He suddenly called out. I turned back and met his smug expression. “You broke up with me so willfully back then. Now that I’m sitting in a supervisor’s seat, don’t you regret it?” “I was willful?” Those three words made my chest sour. How had I ever dated such trash? Looking at his self-righteous face, I sneered. “Did you wake up too fast this morning and leave your brain behind?” “The thing I regret most in my life is knowing you and wasting a year and a half while blind and stupid.” He smiled, his tone certain. “You hate me that much? That means I’m still in your heart.” I stepped forward and touched his forehead. “Is your brain broken?” He grabbed my hand. “Worried about me?” I laughed from anger at his logic, pulled my hand away with disgust, and gave him one piece of advice. “Date Monica properly. Fix your selfish, freeloading habits.” Embarrassment flashed across his face. He stiffened his neck. “Celine, you really haven’t changed. Monica is much better than you. Sweet, obedient, listens to me, and is willing to spend money on me. Unlike you…” I clenched my fists and gritted my teeth. “So all the money I spent on you was fed to a dog.” My eyes landed on his wrist. “If you hadn’t mentioned it, I would’ve forgotten. Give me back the watch I bought you.” I reached for it. He dodged, shameless. “Who asks for a gift back after giving it?” My chest tightened. I waved him off. “You’re worse than a dog.” Back at my desk, I pressed a hand to my chest and adjusted my breathing, telling myself not to argue with animals. After calming down, I thought of one thing. Monica was flashy, loved showing off, spoke sharply, and could be two-faced. But at the end of the day, we had lived together for four years. We might not have had deep friendship, but we had been classmates and roommates. Knowing Noah had impure motives, I decided to try pulling her back. I carefully selected a few “dating advice for girls in love” posts and sent them to Monica. The first one was: Love is between two people. Both sides should give and understand each other. Girls must not foolishly give unconditionally. Over time, men will think it’s their due. I thought it might wake her up. I never expected the result that followed. That day made me so angry my lungs nearly burst. Noah kept calling me into his office. If it wasn’t to deliver documents, it was to pick them up. If not that, then to check spreadsheets. Every time, his first sentence was work-related. By the second, he had already twisted it into something personal. I warned him coldly, “Call me in again, and don’t blame me for being rude.” My ears finally got some peace. But my phone remained silent. I thought Monica was probably carefully digesting the advice I had sent. When work ended, I waited until I confirmed Noah had left, then slowly went downstairs. I truly did not want any more connection to him. The moment I stepped out of the elevator, a large hand grabbed my wrist from the side. I struggled free in panic and met Noah’s smiling face. I shouted and shook him off. “Are you insane?” He shrugged, expression mild. “Dinner together?” Looking at his fake-gentleman face, my appetite vanished. I did not want to say a single word and turned to leave. He refused to give up, chasing and tugging at me. Furious, I kicked him, but he rushed forward and locked me in his arms. His voice was sticky as syrup. “It’s just dinner. Is that so impossible?” I struggled desperately, but he held tighter. Then a shout came from ahead. “What are you doing?” Noah’s hands instantly loosened. I quickly broke free. Monica stormed up to me, her voice sharp. “So this is why you sent me those so-called warnings?” In this situation, I had no immediate defense. I glared hard at Noah, then asked Monica, “Since you saw it, what does that prove?” Monica froze. I pointed at Noah. “It proves he’s a bastard. Dumping this kind of scumbag in time is the smart choice.” My tone was sincere. Every word came from the heart. Noah, who had been silent, suddenly interrupted. “What warnings are you talking about?” Monica shoved my message in front of him. The bastard changed direction instantly and bit back. “Celine, I can’t believe you tried so hard to drive us apart. Monica was your roommate. Don’t you think this is too much?” My blood went cold. His ability to frame someone was masterful. With the evidence in front of me, I had no way to defend myself. Ignoring our four years as classmates, Monica grabbed my collar in a rage. “Celine Hart, how did I never realize you were this scheming? Shamelessly seducing my boyfriend?” I pulled her hand away hard, helpless and angry. “I’m trying to help you.” “Help me?” She cut me off and warned in a low voice. “Put away your cheap thoughts. If I catch you deliberately approaching Noah again, don’t blame me for what happens.” I lowered my head and sighed. Out of the corner of my eye, Noah’s expression was dark and unreadable as he stared straight at me. Monica was just like I had been two years ago. Blind and foolish. Maybe this was the easiest mistake for girls in love to make. What else could I say? Anything I said would be wrong. Some mistakes had to be experienced personally, had to hurt deep in the heart, before a person learned. But what she did next nearly cost me half my life. When I returned home in a daze, I ran into my parents carrying luggage toward the door. Mom reminded me gently, “Celine, Dad and I will be away on business for a few days. Take care of yourself.” Dad rubbed my hair. “If anything is difficult at work, ask Uncle Lewis. He’ll help you. We might be busy over the next few days.” Distracted, I nodded and told them to stay safe. After watching the car leave, I walked tiredly toward the second floor. I tossed and turned all night. The next day at the office, I saw Monica. Mr. Lewis introduced the new colleague with a smile, while Monica’s gaze pierced me like a needle. I was confused. How had she been working elsewhere yesterday and suddenly joined Hartwell Group today? After the morning meeting, Monica asserted ownership in the office. “Supervisor Price is my boyfriend. Please take care of us in the future, especially certain people. Don’t think that just because you’re pretty, you can have thoughts you shouldn’t.” Coworkers whispered. Their gazes toward me gained suspicion. I had no desire to argue. I returned to my desk and looked up just in time to see Noah pull Monica into his office. Soon, faint arguing came from inside. Ms. Grant, the team leader, handed me a document with an ordering tone. “You. Go get Supervisor Price’s signature.” I knew she was doing it on purpose. Senior employees bullying new ones was common. Relying on her seniority, she often made trouble for me, though never enough for me to catch her at work. For the bigger picture, I had endured it. As I walked toward the office, I heard her whisper to a coworker behind me. “I hate women who destroy other people’s relationships…” My steps paused, chest tight. Inside the office, Noah sat in his chair with an ugly expression. Monica stood nearby, jaw tight, eyes red. When she saw me, she clenched her teeth. I placed the document in front of Noah. “It needs your signature.” Noah irritably loosened his tie, picked up a pen, and signed. I was eager to leave and reached for the document, but my fingertips accidentally brushed his hand as he pulled back. Monica saw it at the worst possible angle. She rushed forward, snatched the document, and threw it to the floor. “Celine Hart, do you think I’m blind, or do you think I’m stupid?” I was angry and wronged. “It was accidental. I have no interest in Noah.” She grabbed the cup on the desk and splashed water straight into my face. Then she clamped my wrist, staring at me with mockery. “Celine, how did your face grow to look so cheap?” Scalding pain burst across my face. My eyes burned and stung so badly I could barely open them. I tried desperately to break free, but a woman going mad in love was like a wild vine, shockingly strong. My wrist was squeezed red. It hurt so much tears gathered. I turned and shouted at Noah. “Are you dead? Can you say something?” Noah’s lips moved slightly. Only then did the dog of a man slowly stand. “Monica, let go.” “You’re protecting her?” The force on my wrist tightened again. It felt like the bone was about to snap. The commotion was too loud and startled the coworkers outside. Hurried footsteps gathered toward the office door. I shouted for help. The next second, the door opened, and someone rushed in.

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Ever since my little brother died of a high fever while my mother was busy keeping her precious college junior company, I started cutting her out of all our family photos. When my teacher called my dad, deeply concerned after hearing me say my mom was dead and that I wanted my desk mate’s mom instead, my dad just paused. Then he agreed with me. “Yeah. She passed away a long time ago.” At the school’s family sports day, my dad saw me hand the janitor a ten-dollar bill, asking her to be my mom for the afternoon. He did not stop me. Instead, he quietly slipped the woman another two hundred bucks to attend my parent-teacher conference. Whenever I needed a mother to show up, my dad would just let me buy one. It took my mother a long time to realize she hadn’t heard from us. She finally canceled her endless meetings to pick me up from school, only for my teacher to frown and shut the classroom door in her face. Confused and irritated, she went straight home. The moment she opened the front door, she heard me talking to our building superintendent. “My mom is dead. Do you want to be my new mom?” … Our living room wall was covered in framed photos of my award ceremonies. But the woman standing next to me and my dad in every single picture was a complete stranger. “Kyle. Who the hell are these women standing next to you?” Phoebe’s voice was absolute ice. Her glare could have burned a hole straight through the glass frames. I didn’t understand why she was so angry. I panicked, waving my little hands, trying to explain. The building superintendent wiped the sweat off her forehead. “Sweetie, why would you say such things? Your mother is clearly still alive!” She let out an awkward laugh and practically ran out of the apartment. Hearing that, Phoebe’s mouth twitched with sheer rage. She did not even notice the expensive bakery cake she had brought slipping from her hands and smashing onto the hardwood floor. “I haven’t been home in two months, and you two are telling people I am dead?” “Kyle! Is this how you raise our child?!” Terrified, I rushed forward to shield my dad. “Nobody taught me! Don’t blame Daddy! I said it myself!” Phoebe’s face turned completely black. She began yanking the picture frames off the wall, raising her arm to smash them. Then she paused. Her eyes caught the engraved golden plaques on the frames. First Place. Regional Champion. Her hands froze in mid-air. She looked down at me, her expression unreadable. I held my breath, waiting for her to explode. Phoebe had no idea that ever since she “died” in that other man’s house two months ago, my dad had been secretly paying women to act as my mother for every single family event. Hearing the commotion, my dad walked out of the master bedroom. In just two months, he looked like a walking skeleton. His eyes were hollow, his steps unsteady. Seeing Phoebe, he didn’t scream. He didn’t cry and demand a divorce. He didn’t grab a kitchen knife and threaten her to choose between her family and her precious junior. He just stared at her with a gaze so cold it felt like looking at a corpse. Phoebe’s rage instantly evaporated. Her beautiful eyes darted away, flashing with a brief moment of guilt. Remembering something, she nervously reached into her designer bag and pulled out a brand-new camera, offering it to him with a gentle smile. “Kyle, look. This is the new model you’ve wanted for so long.” “And I know you want to get back into photography. I already submitted your portfolio to the International Lens Competition.” My dad stared at it with zero emotion. There was not a single trace of joy on his face. I recognized it immediately. It was the camera my dad had kept saved in his online cart for two years. To pay the household bills, he had refused to buy it. When he finally swallowed his pride and asked Phoebe for it, she blew him off. Again and again. What Phoebe didn’t know was that the model she just bought was already outdated. My dad had already purchased the newest one himself. Watching his abnormal reaction, Phoebe’s eyebrows knit together. She let out a long sigh, pressing the camera into his hands with a patronizing, indulgent tone. “Alright, honey, it is my fault. I know you’ve been heartbroken since Noah passed away, and I shouldn’t have argued with you.” “Just be patient, okay? Things with Oliver are almost settled. Just give me a little more time…” A little more time. I clenched my tiny fists, looking at my mom with a breaking heart. Two months. My mom was a liar. She had said that exact phrase fifty-two times, and she never kept her word. My dad waited for her. He waited while my little brother coded in the emergency room. He waited while his clinical depression spiraled so badly he started self-harming. He waited until he was completely broken, and she still never came home. Instead, she would just scold him over the phone. “Kyle, I told you! She is my late mentor’s child. Oliver is my junior. Stop being so incredibly insecure!” Right then, Phoebe’s ringtone pierced the quiet room. She quickly answered it on speakerphone. A little girl’s desperate sobbing echoed through our apartment. “Auntie Phoebe, come back! Daddy’s head is burning up, and he collapsed on the floor! He won’t wake up!” Then, a man’s weak, scolding voice came through the line. “Sophie, why did you call her?! We cannot keep burdening her!” I scowled, opening my mouth to scream. That is not your mom! She is my mom! But Phoebe’s eyes instantly went red. Her voice trembled with sheer panic. “Oliver, what are you talking about? I would beg you to burden me for the rest of my life!” She frantically threw the expensive camera onto the sofa. “Kyle, Oliver might have overworked himself. I need to go check on him. I will explain everything later!” Phoebe ran out the door without looking back. My dad and I stood there, staring at the empty doorway. We both knew she was not coming back tonight. My dad picked up the camera she left behind and turned it on. The memory card was full of photos. Phoebe, Oliver, and Sophie. Smiling at theme parks. Eating at expensive restaurants. I saw a photo of Phoebe and Sophie laughing on a Ferris wheel. The timestamp was the exact same day my little brother died in the hospital. I saw a photo of them watching a beautiful fireworks display. That was the night my dad had a depressive episode and ended up bleeding in the bathtub. My chest hurt so badly I couldn’t breathe. I burst into tears. Mom always had time. She just never gave any of it to us. My dad’s entire body shook. He pulled me into his arms, his voice hoarse but terrifyingly resolute. “Jessica. Mommy is dead. Right?” I nodded my head vigorously. Something permanently shifted behind my dad’s eyes. He stood up, grabbed the camera, and hurled it violently against the wall. Crash. The expensive device shattered into a hundred plastic and glass pieces. I knew his heart had just shattered exactly the same way. That night, right before I fell asleep, I heard my dad talking on the phone in the dark. “The lead photographer position in Los Angeles. I accept.” “I will be there in exactly seven days.” Through my sleepy haze, I suddenly remembered something. My dad used to be a globally renowned photographer. Every time he released a print, billionaires and celebrities would get into bidding wars over it. But he gave up his entire reputation for Phoebe, hiding in New York, working a miserable, underpaid job where his boss treated him like garbage. I couldn’t help but smile into my pillow. In seven days, my shining, brilliant dad was coming back. Five days until we leave. I walked into the apartment after school and heard a massive clatter. Phoebe, who hadn’t been home in two days, was holding all the trophies and medals my dad and I had won. She was tossing them into a cardboard moving box. The princess dresses my dad saved up to buy me, and my limited-edition dolls, were all being stuffed into the box without a second thought. My brain short-circuited. I looked nervously at my dad. His face was frozen in absolute disgust. His fists were shaking at his sides. “Phoebe. Are you even human?!” “You don’t come home to see your own daughter for two days, and the first thing you do is steal her things to give to that parasite and his kid?!” Phoebe didn’t even look guilty. She casually inspected one of my gold medals, a dismissive smile on her lips. “Kyle, I don’t want to do this either. But if you hadn’t posted those passive-aggressive photos on Facebook, Oliver and Sophie wouldn’t be so depressed right now.” “Besides, Jessica is incredibly spoiled. What is the big deal about giving some toys to a child who doesn’t even have a mother?” My dad let out a dark, breathless laugh. His eyes instantly turned red with overwhelming disappointment. “I never showed off. Only a filthy mind sees filth in everything.” “Jessica and I worked hard for those trophies. While you were busy playing playing house with another man and his daughter, did you ever stop to think about your own child?!” I stood there, completely numb, unable to understand why my mom had turned into this monster. A year ago, when my dad and I wanted a specific type of traditional pastry, Phoebe drove three hundred miles just to learn how to bake it for us. Now, she was ripping our achievements off the walls to give to strangers. My dad took a deep breath. He seemed to see right through her. He pulled out his phone and sent a voice memo to a local journalist who had been begging for an interview. “Mr. Davis, I accept your offer for the ‘Champion Father and Daughter’ feature interview. Tomorrow morning at seven. 302 Silverlake Drive.” “Kyle! What the hell are you doing?!” Phoebe lunged forward and snatched the phone out of his hand. My dad tilted his head, looking down at her like she was a pathetic bug. “If they want the champion’s trophies, they better be ready to play the part.” “As long as Oliver and his kid can handle a live press interview about winning these awards, they can keep them.” Phoebe ground her teeth together, letting out a furious laugh. “Do you really have to make things this ugly?” “Kyle, what happened to you? You used to be so generous. So understanding.” She suppressed her temper, shooting a dark glare at the movers she had hired, ordering them to take the last box away. Before walking out the door, she gave my dad a look of sheer, unadulterated disappointment. “I am just borrowing them to cheer Sophie up. I will bring them back when we are done. Call the journalist and cancel it right now!” Used to be? I stared at my sneakers, my chest aching. My mom used to be different, too. “You are not taking a single thing out of this house…” my dad started. “Daddy!” I yelled, cutting him off. I turned to Phoebe and gave her a sweet, obedient smile, shaking my head. “It is okay, Daddy. I don’t want them anymore. Let Mommy give them to my new sister.” A flash of joy crossed Phoebe’s eyes. She walked over and patted my head, completely oblivious. “See? Our Jessica is such a good, mature girl.” After she left, I looked at the empty, stripped living room. I walked over to my piggy bank, pulled out a ten-dollar bill, and took my dad’s hand. His eyes were completely bloodshot. We walked downstairs to the college student living on the second floor. “Excuse me, miss? Can I give you ten dollars to be my mom for tonight?” “It is my daddy’s birthday.” The girl looked at us, her voice thick with pity. “Did Phoebe…” “She’s dead.” My dad and I said it at the exact same time. The girl seemed to understand immediately. She followed us back to our apartment. While I was singing Happy Birthday, right before my dad blew out the candles, his phone lit up with a notification. My dad stiffened. His fingers trembled as he opened it. I peeked at the screen, and the blood in my veins turned to absolute ice. Oliver had updated his social media. The caption read: Whenever I get angry and break things, she never gets annoyed. She just smiles and hands me more to throw. The attached photo showed my dad’s and my trophies shattered into a hundred pieces on their marble floor. My limited-edition dolls, the ones I loved so much I barely even took them out of the box, had their faces violently scribbled over with black permanent marker. Ping. Phoebe sent a message. It was a money transfer for fifty thousand dollars. My dad tapped the voice memo underneath it. Through the speaker, we could hear the chaotic sound of glass shattering in the background. “Kyle, there was a little accident with the trophies. Just take the money and buy Jessica some new ones. Stop making a big deal out of nothing.” Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision. But Mom. Money can’t buy the love Daddy and I put into winning those. My dad squeezed his eyes shut. He immediately took a screenshot of the post and forwarded it to his lawyer. “Mr. Davis, these are photos proving Phoebe’s long-term infidelity with Oliver, along with the massive financial transfers she has been making to him.” “All the evidence is there. Fast-track the divorce proceedings.” My dad didn’t reply to Phoebe for the rest of the night. Her phone calls came in back-to-back, ringing endlessly. “Kyle, I am sorry I forgot your birthday, okay?” “Kyle! Why aren’t you accepting the transfer? Why are you throwing another tantrum?!” “Are you out of your mind?! The journalist actually showed up at Oliver’s house this morning! Do you have any idea how humiliated they were? Are you happy now?!” My dad read the frantic texts lighting up his screen. For the first time in two years, he didn’t shed a single tear. He just calmly hit the block button. Mom. You will never receive another message from Daddy again. Three days until we leave. The city was hosting a massive family track-and-field day. Phoebe had sworn up and down that she would be there. I sat on the competitor’s bench, my tiny hands sweating, waiting for her. Five minutes passed. Thirty minutes passed. She never showed up. My dad’s phone rang. It was her. “There was an absolute emergency at the corporate office. I have to be there. Tell Jessica I owe her one.” Before she could finish her excuse, my dad hung up and blocked her number. I tried to force a smile to make my dad feel better. But then, a sickeningly familiar voice drifted over from the VIP bleachers. “Auntie Phoebe, you are the best! With you here, we are definitely going to win!” My brain completely blanked out. I slowly turned my head. Phoebe was standing by the starting line, hugging a little girl in a matching athletic outfit. I looked up at my dad, completely lost. “Didn’t Mom say she had to work?” My dad shot up from the bench, his face pale with fury, ready to march over and demand an answer. I grabbed his sleeve with both hands, shaking my head. “Daddy, don’t. The race is starting.” My dad forced himself to sit back down, his jaw tight enough to crack teeth. It was a parent-child relay. As long as I ran the first two hundred meters and passed the baton to my dad, we would easily take first place. The grand prize was a fully paid family vacation package. Hope sparked in my chest. The starting pistol cracked. I ran like my life depended on it, clutching the red baton tightly in my fist. Fifty meters. One hundred and fifty meters. One hundred and ninety meters. Sweat was stinging my eyes. I reached my arm out, my heart pounding with excitement, ready to pass it to my dad. Suddenly, a violent shove hit my shoulder. I was thrown completely off balance, crashing hard onto the synthetic track. The rough surface tore the skin right off my knees. Blood instantly pooled down my legs. I bit my lip, tears streaming down my face from the burning pain. Right next to me, Sophie—the girl who pushed me—suddenly started screaming at the top of her lungs. “Why did you push me?! Mommy! It hurts!” She threw herself onto the ground, crying so loudly it made my ears ring. My dad sprinted onto the track like a madman, dropping to his knees to shield me. But Phoebe and Oliver reached us first. Phoebe pointed her finger right in my face and screamed. “Jessica! Why the hell would you push Sophie?!” I choked back my sobs, screaming from the sheer injustice. “I didn’t do it!” Sophie pointed her little finger right at me, wailing. “She did! She did it on purpose, Mommy!” A fireball of pure rage exploded in my chest. I was hyperventilating, completely unable to defend myself. My dad finally snapped. He stood up, his voice dripping with lethal venom. “Check the cameras! Since you are calling your own daughter a liar, let the security footage speak for itself!” But Phoebe just scooped Sophie up into her arms, turning her back on us. “Cameras? You’ve raised Jessica to be so utterly manipulative, checking the cameras is only going to humiliate her more!” They rushed off toward the medical tent. I lay there, my face totally drained of color. I reached up and gently touched my dad’s cheek. “Daddy. It doesn’t hurt…” Then the world went dark, and I passed out. When I woke up in the infirmary, I could hear the loud cheers echoing from the podium outside. “Congratulations to Sophie and her family for winning the relay championship!” I lowered my head. Fat tears fell onto my bloody bandages. I ran way faster than her. Why was she the champion? Did Mom… Before I could finish the thought, my dad stormed out of the infirmary, walking straight toward Oliver with a face like thunder. “Oh, hey Kyle. You really didn’t need to come all the way over here to congratulate my daughter.” Oliver leaned in, lowering his voice into a mocking whisper. “But really, thank you so much. If Phoebe hadn’t stepped up to take care of us, I have no idea where we would be right now. “Oh, and you guys totally would have won the race! But Phoebe is just too kind-hearted. She just can’t stand seeing us cry…” Smack. My dad’s fist connected perfectly with Oliver’s jaw. He grabbed a handful of Oliver’s styled hair and yanked him backward, throwing him to the ground. “I warned you to stay the hell away from my daughter!” Oliver’s pathetic shrieks instantly drew Phoebe running from the crowd. “Kyle! Have you completely lost your mind?! Just because you lost a stupid race, you resort to physical assault?!” My dad’s eyes were bloodshot, practically glowing with hatred. “Yeah! And I am going to make sure both of you disgusting parasites burn in hell!” Without a second of hesitation, Phoebe shoved my dad hard in the chest. He stumbled backward, clutching his throat, his face turning a terrifying shade of gray. My heart stopped. Dad’s severe panic attacks. His depression was triggering a physical collapse! I frantically dug into my pockets, pulling out his emergency medication. Dragging my bleeding, bandaged leg, I hobbled toward him as fast as I could. “Daddy!” I was just five feet away when someone’s foot intentionally hooked my ankle. I fell flat on my face, the plastic pill bottle flying out of my hands. Sophie stepped forward and slammed the heel of her sneaker directly onto the bottle, crushing it. “No!” I screamed until my vocal cords physically tore. That was his only emergency medication! His doctor had warned us that if he didn’t take it within twenty minutes of an episode, his heart could stop! Tears streamed down my face. I scrambled onto my hands and knees to grab the crushed pills. Suddenly, Oliver yelled out, “Jessica! Don’t push Sophie!” Before I could even process the lie, Phoebe lunged forward and shoved me out of the way without even blinking. Right behind me was the park’s ornamental lake. In a split second, my dad threw his body in front of mine to take the impact. Splash. My dad plunged backward into the freezing water. He thrashed wildly, his face turning purple as he struggled for air. I lost my mind. I grabbed Phoebe’s leg, sobbing hysterically. “Mommy! Daddy can’t swim!” “Mommy! Daddy is having an episode!” Phoebe’s pupils dilated in panic. She immediately turned toward the lake, ready to jump in. But Oliver let out a dramatic, terrified wail. “Sophie! Oh my god, Sophie, what’s wrong?!” Phoebe’s entire body froze. She completely completely changed direction. She scooped up a perfectly fine Sophie and ran toward the parking lot, shouting at her personal assistant over her shoulder to fish my dad out. I sat on the concrete, staring blankly at her retreating back. It felt like someone had reached into my chest and ripped my heart entirely in half. Mom. Are you really throwing us away? After my dad was rescued and rushed to the hospital, I sat in the waiting room. I pulled a crumpled ten-dollar bill from my pocket and handed it to a young nurse. “Excuse me, miss? Can you be my mom for today and help take care of my daddy?” The nurse looked at me, her eyes full of pity. “Sweetheart, where is your real mom?” My voice was completely dead. “My mom is dead.” My mom died the exact second she turned her back on my drowning father. One day until we leave. My dad had packed our suitcases and finalized our visas. For the past few days, Phoebe had come to the hospital every single afternoon to visit my dad. When she saw the nurse I had hired acting as my “mom”, her face twisted in absolute disgust. “Jessica has a mother! Are you so sexually frustrated you just have to hire random women to play house?!” My dad and I didn’t say a word. The nurse simply cursed her out and told her to leave. Later, Phoebe came back with bags of expensive designer clothes for my dad and high-end toys for me. We took every single bag and gave them to the kids in the pediatric oncology ward next door. Phoebe never knew. Five hours until our flight. My dad checked himself out of the hospital early and took me to the massive amusement park I had been begging to visit for years. “Jessica, I know you have always wanted to come here. I am so sorry my illness kept making me delay it.” I smiled so wide my front teeth showed. Just then, my smartwatch buzzed. It was a text from Phoebe. “Jessica, tell Daddy that I sent Oliver out of the country today. He is gone.” “I am going to take you guys out to a fancy dinner tonight to make up for the birthdays.” A tiny ripple of emotion hit my chest. But then, I looked across the plaza. Standing right outside a luxury boutique, I saw Phoebe walking arm-in-arm with Oliver, laughing and carrying shopping bags. I didn’t tell my dad. I just hit the block button on my watch. Mom is a liar. Again. My dad and I were just getting in line for a ride when the park’s emergency sirens started wailing. A wave of screaming people rushed past us. Four massive, rabid dogs with bloodshot eyes and foaming mouths had broken through a security fence and were charging straight into the crowd. My dad grabbed my hand, trying to pull me toward an exit. But the panicked mob shoved us violently apart. “Jessica!” Pure terror glued my feet to the pavement. My legs completely gave out. Suddenly, I heard Phoebe screaming from the upper balcony of a nearby restaurant. “Jessica! Run! Come to Mommy! Up here!” Tears of relief flooded my eyes. I pushed myself up and started running toward the stairs where she was standing. But Oliver screamed from the other side of the balcony. “Phoebe! Sophie is trapped down there! You have to save her!” Phoebe looked at me running up the steps, then looked back at Sophie, who was frozen near a food cart. My dad’s voice was completely shredded as he roared from the crowd. “Phoebe! Grab Jessica! Sophie’s bodyguard is right next to her!” Phoebe’s face twisted in agony. She looked right into my eyes. “Jessica, just wait right there!” Wait right there. Wait. Again. She spun on her heels, sprinting in the opposite direction to grab Sophie, disappearing into the restaurant. The four rabid dogs locked their eyes on me, surrounding me in a tight circle. My heart died completely. Right as the beasts lunged at me, my dad burst through the crowd like a maniac, wielding a shattered wooden broom handle. He threw himself over my body. The vicious dogs tore into his legs, their teeth sinking deep into his flesh. Hot blood soaked right through my clothes. Even as they tore him apart, he just held my head against his chest, smiling through the unbearable pain. “Don’t be scared, baby. Daddy is right here…” I was sobbing so violently I was convulsing. The dogs pulled back for another strike. Suddenly, a dozen heavily armed private security guards swarmed the area. They used high-voltage stun batons to neutralize the animals in seconds. They rushed my dad and me to a secure medical facility. After my dad received his rabies shots and got his legs heavily bandaged, he refused to stay in a bed. Suppressing the agonizing pain, he grabbed our passports and dragged us straight to the international airport. “Jessica, we are leaving. I cannot stay in this city for another second.” As the plane’s wheels lifted off the runway, pushing us up into the clouds, I only had one thought. Mom. This time, you will never find us again.

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Before faking my death, I decided to take revenge on the arrogant rich kids at my private school. I borrowed ten thousand dollars from each of them. Seven years passed. Everything settled. They had all risen to the top, powerful enough to cover the sky with one hand. Some even had fiancées now. They probably didn’t even remember who I was. So I quietly returned to finish my final mission: The cannon-fodder villainess’s regretful, bitter, shadowy gaze. On the second day of following one of them, I was tied up on his bed. Just as I trembled in terror, he looked down at me with unfamiliar, arrogant eyes. “Don’t send me random little rats like this. Send her to my brother. Isn’t this his type? He’s been looking for girls like her for years.” 1 The man by the bed was talking on the phone, bored and careless. At the same time, his cold gaze swept over me. I wore an ordinary long-sleeved shirt and pants, with black-framed glasses on my nose. A painfully ordinary outfit. I had been quietly following him, watching him from the shadows. The system had just announced in my head: [The cannon-fodder villainess’s regretful, bitter, shadowy gaze: Target One complete.] Then I was dragged onto this soft bed. Reid Ashford cursed into the phone without mercy. “You sent this to my bed? A girl so plain she’d disappear in a crowd?” His face looked terrible as he reached out with long fingers, about to untie me. Then the person on the other end said something. Reid paused. His dark eyes narrowed and fixed on me. “What? She was following me?” He tapped the speaker button. A trembling voice came from the phone. “Yes, Mr. Ashford. I noticed this girl had been following you. I brought her here so you could decide what to do with her.” So Reid, who had untied me halfway, tied me back up again. After receiving my file, he scanned it briefly and tossed it aside. “Turns out we went to the same prep school.” “You… don’t know me?” I asked carefully. Reid looked like he had heard something absurd. He laughed, mocking and bright. “Are you someone important? Do I need to know you?” I froze. Seven years had passed. Maybe there had been plenty of pretty girls around him, so seeing my face did not jog his memory. But there was no way he could see my name, know we went to the same private school, and have no impression of me at all. Because Reid had been the cruelest one to me back then. He forced me to be his lackey, made me orbit around him. My breakfast would be thrown into the trash by him. Then he would make me call him “sir” and beg him to let me eat. Only then would he lazily feed me his own breakfast. “Like a little rat.” He would usually say it casually, then pinch my cheeks while they puffed from chewing. Reid hated me from the first time he saw me. If he was the reckless, dazzling young heir, then I was the invisible girl hiding in my own world, too quiet to speak. Until one day, I accidentally stepped on the watch he had dropped. I was so frightened I could barely stand. Without thinking, I knew it had to cost a fortune. He curved his lips coldly and crooked a finger at me. “Rooftop. Little rat.” That evening, he casually removed my black-framed glasses and threw them aside. Then he grabbed my hair. My heavy bangs were pulled back too. He paused. The cold disgust in his eyes was replaced by something else. He raised an eyebrow and swept his gaze over me with interest. “Didn’t expect that. You’re actually pretty. So why do you act like a rat? You don’t even dare look me in the eye.” I timidly stepped back. Secretly, I thought to myself that I hadn’t known either. But ever since the system appeared and told me I was the dark, timid cannon-fodder villainess in a melodramatic romance novel, I had accepted it. My insecure, gloomy existence was only there to contrast the male leads’ brilliance and the heroine’s bright confidence. Reid waited for my answer. I failed to squeeze out a single word. He impatiently pinched my face hard. Unexpectedly, he did not punish me or make me pay for the watch. He made me his follower instead. Running errands for him. Letting him tease me. Until I borrowed ten thousand dollars from him. Then secretly threw his backpack into a dirty ditch. Then faked my death. 2 Reid said calmly, “I had a car accident two years ago and forgot a lot of things. But…” He sneered. “Don’t tell me you’re my ex-girlfriend from before the amnesia.” “No, no, no…” I denied it quickly. Learning that he had lost his memory, I quietly breathed in relief and forced a smile. “Sorry. I won’t follow you again.” He looked down at me, and I could not tell whether he believed me. A moment later, just like years ago, he lazily removed my black-framed glasses and pinched my jaw, forcing me to lift my head. I still did not look at him. My lashes trembled lightly. “Although I hate rats,” Reid said with a half-smile, “my brother likes them.” “No!” I instantly struggled and looked up. Reid had lost his memory because of the accident, but his brother definitely had not. And I had seen his brother’s methods. “That’s not up to you,” Reid said coldly. 3 Reid brought me straight back to the Ashford estate. I struggled the entire way. But since he never untied me, my struggle was useless. Reid curved his lips and pressed down my restless legs. “What are you pretending for? You were the one following me. Unfortunately for you, I’m not interested in your type. My brother is, though. If you manage to hook him, your effort won’t have been wasted.” I stayed silent and ignored him. In my head, I asked the system, [What are my chances of escaping?] The system sounded disappointed in me. [You don’t want an opportunity handed to your face? How else will you complete the mission? You could follow Reid because he goes to racetracks and bars every day. Is Warren Ashford the same?] I suddenly understood. [Good point.] But I was still scared. After all, I still owed him money. The system patiently advised, [It’s only a little money. Warren is so busy, and you’re so ordinary. How could he possibly remember you?] I agreed. [True.] After the system comforted me, I calmed slightly. The system said, [Mm-hm. Keep going.] During the years I had faked my death, the system told me the plot had already deviated. The male leads never met the heroine, and the heroine had gone abroad to study and build her career. But my mission had not changed. Thank goodness. That reassured me. I was just waiting to complete the mission and collect the money. For the next few days, Reid was not around. He locked me in the enormous estate. Technically, it counted as imprisonment. But there was a butler, maids, and a chef. I ate, slept, slept, and ate. Until one morning a week later, countless staff poured into the mansion and began decorating. I leaned over the bedroom balcony and looked down. “Today is Warren Ashford’s birthday.” The system said, [If I remember correctly, before you faked your death, he made you prepare birthday gifts for him every year.] Meaning, how could I not remember his birthday? I said silently, “It wasn’t only him asking for birthday gifts. There were two others too. I didn’t have money…” The system said, [Didn’t they give you money?] I said seriously, “Once they gave it to me, it was mine. What did that have to do with their birthday gifts?” The system: […Oh.] 4 The estate was decorated magnificently. Champagne towers stood in several places, and the whole mansion was soaked in a grand, extravagant birthday atmosphere. That evening, many people in formalwear arrived. From the third floor, I could hear the lively noise below. Reid came back too. He threw a dress at me. A moon-white short dress. Not exactly flashy, more fresh and elegant. Except for the huge bow at the waist cutout. I shook my head. “I’m not wearing it.” Internally, I complained. Even with amnesia, Reid had not changed at all. Back in school, he had constantly tried to make me wear short skirts for him. Now too. Reid lifted his eyes. “Don’t tell me you plan to go down dressed like that.” What was wrong with my outfit? White T-shirts were simple. Black pants were casual. I whispered, “I could also not go down.” Reid laughed from anger. “Then why did I keep you here?” He dragged me to the balcony and lifted his chin toward the lively garden below. His tone was sarcastic. “Everyone else is wearing gowns. You want to be special? Though even if you wear the dress, you won’t be as pretty as those women.” I said, “It’s not like I asked to come.” Just then, noise rose downstairs. Several warm greetings followed. The main character had arrived. I saw the man stepping out of the car at the entrance immediately. He wore a crisp suit. A quiet, gentle girl held his arm. She looked timid, as if she had never seen a scene like this. Compared with seven years ago, when he had still carried some youthful coldness, Warren Ashford was now entirely mature, with the ease of someone in power and the ability to hide every emotion. Reid looked down and clicked his tongue. “My brother’s here. I’m going down.” “Change or don’t,” he said, pinching my face with a half-smile. “Maybe my brother likes them this plain.” I froze. Before I could process his meaning, he pushed the door open and left. He seemed certain I did not dare go downstairs. And did not dare run away. “Wait here nicely,” Reid said lazily. “Don’t look so miserable. If my brother likes you, you’ll get a lot of money. If he doesn’t, you’re free. I’ll give you some cash too. How’s that?” I frowned lightly. “But your brother clearly has a date tonight…” “Oh,” Reid said carelessly. “He changes them often.” Then the door closed. Listening to his footsteps fade, I stood there as the evening wind brushed past. While I was dazed, I noticed Warren downstairs turn his head slightly. His gaze seemed about to move toward me. I crouched down at lightning speed and slowly crawled back into the room. Over the past few days, I had thought a lot. Although the chance of Warren remembering me was indeed small, seven years ago, he had been a genius with a terrifying memory. And he held grudges. These untouchable heirs were not good people. As long as there was even the slightest possibility of being recognized, I could not gamble. Besides, Reid might recover his memory someday. Even more terrifying. Wasn’t it just a shadowy gaze? When the time came, I could apply to be a cleaner at Warren’s company, fully disguise myself, and mop floors every day. There would always be a chance to watch him from the shadows. 5 Once the party downstairs began and everyone was busy drinking, I quietly opened the door and slipped out. The next second, I ran into several well-dressed people in the hallway. They were chatting. “Is the lounge on the third floor?” I startled. They noticed me too. The girl in the center was the same one who had been holding Warren’s arm earlier. When she saw me, she paused. “You are…?” I pressed my lips together. “I’m… uh, the housekeeper’s daughter. Yes.” Someone immediately questioned, “Can a housekeeper’s daughter stay upstairs?” The girl seemed to realize something. The others did too. Their gazes toward me turned disgusted. “So you’re some servant’s daughter. Here to steal things, right? I’m going to tell Mr. Ashford.” Someone agreed, voice contemptuous. “Yeah. Look at her. Guilty as hell.” My eyes widened. “Wait.” The girl was firm and turned toward the stairs. “Today is Mr. Ashford’s birthday. I won’t let theft happen here.” “I was brought here by Reid Ashford!” I blurted in panic. Her steps stopped. Then she turned back suspiciously and scanned me again. “You? Brought by him? How is that possible?” The way she looked at me was completely different from the shy expression she had worn beside Warren. Just then, a careless voice sounded. “What’s going on here?” Everyone turned. Reid raised an eyebrow, looking slightly surprised by the scene. The girl immediately explained. “We came up to find the lounge and saw her sneaking around the hallway. I thought she was a thief and was going to tell Mr. Ashford. But she said you brought her here.” Seeing Reid, I breathed in relief. He could prove I was not a thief. But the air strangely fell silent. After a while, Reid pulled his lips coldly. “You said you saw her in the hallway?” The girl nodded quickly. “She looked very suspicious. Like she had just stolen something and was trying to run.” Me: “…” “Run?” Reid repeated with a fake smile. I suddenly had a bad feeling. Sure enough, his next words were cold. “She is a thief.” The girl’s eyes lit up at his confirmation. She glared at me again. “Not only a thief, but a liar too. I’m going to tell Mr. Ashford and let him deal with you.” Her little leather shoes tapped quickly as she ran downstairs. Her voice softened again. “Mr. Ashford…” I froze in place, my whole body cold. I looked at Reid in confusion. Reid leaned against the hallway wall with his arms crossed. His dark eyes fell on me, cold and superior. After a moment, steady footsteps sounded, drawing closer. The girl complained softly. “Mr. Ashford, luckily I was sharp enough to catch this person stealing upstairs…” “She even lied and said your brother brought her.” I lowered my eyes in despair. My heart pounded from nervousness, almost breaking through my chest. Then my vision went black. The world spun, and I fell sideways. In the last second before consciousness disappeared completely, I landed in a warm embrace.

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1 At the party, my girlfriend lost a round of Truth or Dare. The crowd immediately started chanting, egging her on to list ten of my childhood best friend’s greatest qualities. Lyla didn’t even hesitate. “He’s outgoing, handsome, in great shape, and knows exactly how to charm people,” she said, her voice bright. “He’s always smiling, has high emotional intelligence, is incredibly capable, and has impeccable taste. Oh, and he really knows how to make people happy.” In the next round, Alan smiled and turned the question back to her. “What about Miles? What are Miles’s best qualities, Lyla?” Lyla looked at me, pausing for a few seconds. When she finally spoke, she only offered a single word. “Dependable.” Someone laughed to break the sudden tension. “And? What else?” Lyla frowned, looking as if she were thinking incredibly hard. But after a long silence, she couldn’t find a second thing to say. In the middle of that awkward quiet, a wave of exhaustion washed over me. Lyla and I had been together for seven years, and our wedding was scheduled for next week. Yet, after racking her brain, the only positive thing she could say about me was that I was dependable. This time, I didn’t want to be the dependable one anymore. … I stood up to leave, but someone slammed their hand on the table, laughing. “Don’t go yet, Miles! One last round!” “Let’s play something spicy. Let’s see who has the most chat history with whom on WhatsApp.” Alan chuckled, sliding his unlocked phone onto the center of the table. “Sure, why not? I’ve got nothing to hide.” But when the data popped up on the screen, the room went dead silent. The person Lyla messaged the most wasn’t me, her fiancé. It was Alan. Someone let out a forced, nervous laugh. “Well, look at that. Lyla and Alan sure talk a lot.” Alan blinked, his tone light and breezy. “Well, Miles is just so mature, you know? He handles everything on his own. Lyla gets stressed out sometimes and needs someone to talk to.” As he spoke, he carelessly scrolled through the screen, accidentally revealing a snippet of their chat history. Lyla’s text popped up: Miles is nagging about the wedding schedule again. He’s so rigid. Alan’s reply: He’s just too uptight. Unlike me. I think a wedding should just be fun and relaxed. Lyla: That’s why talking to you is so much easier. My fingers tightened around my glass. A second later, another exchange slid into view. Lyla: Miles is wearing that white shirt again today. Does he really think he looks good in white? Alan: Don’t be mean. But yeah, it’s not really his vibe. Too plain. Lyla: Yeah, you’d look much better in it. The room was completely silent now. I stood there, feeling as though something were choking me. A sharp, stinging ache spread through my chest, making it hard to breathe. All my quiet anticipation, all the nervousness I had felt while trying on my wedding suit, were nothing more than gossip for Lyla to mock with Alan. Alan walked over, casually putting an arm around my shoulder. “Don’t be mad, Miles.” “If Lyla were talking to anyone else like this, I’d yell at her for you. But I’m your best friend.” He tilted his head, his expression completely innocent. “I’m just keeping an eye on her for you. Isn’t that a good thing?” I stared at Alan’s hand resting on my shoulder. On his wrist was a sleek, silver watch. A few days ago, Lyla had sent me a picture of that exact watch while she was away on a business trip, asking if I thought it looked nice. I had stared at that photo for a long time, my heart bursting with joy as I typed back, It’s beautiful. I had assumed it was a surprise gift for our wedding. I had even planned to act surprised when she came home, pretending I didn’t know anything about it. I had waited days for that surprise. And now, there it was, sitting on Alan’s wrist. I slowly reached up and brushed his hand off my shoulder. Alan’s eyes immediately turned red. “Miles, do you not even trust me anymore?” Lyla finally frowned, her voice tight with irritation. “Miles, it’s just a game. Don’t be so sensitive.” When she said those words, any lingering sadness I had felt instantly vanished, replaced by a dull emptiness. I stood up, my voice barely a whisper. “I’m tired. I’m going home.” I made it all the way to the front door before realizing I had left my coat on the back of the sofa. When I went back to get it, the door to the private room was cracked open. “Lyla, are you seriously not going after him?” someone was asking in a hushed tone. “Miles looked incredibly pale.” Lyla was silent for a moment, but her voice was entirely dismissive when she spoke. “Miles won’t actually stay mad.” “He’s too dependable. Give him a night of sleep, and he’ll be fine.” My hand froze on the brass doorknob. “Alan’s the one who was embarrassed by the teasing,” she added. “I need to comfort him first.” My fingers grew cold against the metal. The word dependable felt like a blunt knife. It didn’t draw blood, but it slowly carved away at my chest. I didn’t go back into the room. My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a message from our wedding planner. Mr. Barret, are you sure you want to cancel the wedding? You’ve spent over half a year preparing this. From the specific camellias to the soft lighting, the textured invitations, the seating cards… you personally approved every single detail. It would be such a shame to cancel now. I stared at the rendering of the venue she had sent. I remembered how, in the beginning, I had wanted a wedding filled with white camellias. But Lyla had taken one look at the design and sighed. Alan says camellias are too plain. A wedding should be lively and bright. So, the camellias were replaced with the red roses Alan preferred. I had wanted soft, golden lighting. Lyla had countered, Alan says warm orange makes for better photos. I had wanted simple, elegant invitations. Lyla had insisted, Let’s go with Alan’s idea. He has better taste. Eventually, the wedding I had spent six months planning had been systematically stripped away, replaced with everything Alan liked. And I, the groom, was reduced to nothing more than a name on the invitation. The planner sent another message: Are you absolutely certain about the cancellation? I looked at the unrecognizable rendering of the venue and let out a quiet laugh. Yes, I am certain, I replied. I will cover all the cancellation fees. When I returned to our apartment, I began packing my things. Lyla and I had chosen this place together. She had promised me that after a long day of work, the porch light would always be on, a pot of warm soup would be waiting in the kitchen, and the balcony would be lined with my favorite camellias. It had sounded like a dream. But looking around now, the apartment was filled with Alan’s presence. The fridge was stocked with his favorite peach soda, his jacket was draped over the back of our sofa, and the groomsman’s suit hanging next to mine looked far more tailored and exquisite than my own wedding attire. I stood in the closet, staring at the two suits. A bitter ache rose in my chest. Even before the ceremony had begun, the space that was supposed to belong to me had already been claimed by Alan. I didn’t cry. I simply packed my passport, my documents, and a few change of clothes into a small suitcase. Halfway through packing, the front door unlocked. Lyla was home. She carried a small designer bag, her tone carrying a hint of performative warmth. “Honey, don’t be mad anymore.” “I was walking past the store and saw these obsidian cufflinks. I remembered you saying you liked obsidian.” She opened the box, revealing a pair of dark, polished cufflinks. I did like obsidian. Years ago, I had stared at a pair through a shop window for a long time, but I couldn’t bring myself to buy them because of the price. Lyla had held my hand then, whispering, When we get married, I’ll buy you the best pair in the world. Now she had finally bought them. But they were cufflinks. And I never wore French cuff shirts. The only person who wore them was Alan. Lyla wrapped her arms around my waist from behind. “Let’s just put tonight behind us, okay?” I looked down at the box. Before I could speak, a paper receipt slipped from the designer bag, fluttering onto the floor. The amount listed was staggering. It was for a silk tie, costing ten times the price of the cufflinks. I recognized the brand instantly. Thirty minutes ago, Alan had posted a picture of that exact tie on social media. His caption had been: Groom’s gift from a certain someone. I’m going to be the most handsome groomsman next week. I stared at the receipt, and a hot tear slipped down my cheek, splashing onto the paper. The warmth in Lyla’s face vanished, replaced by irritation. “Why are you crying again?” “Miles, honestly, this is exhausting.” Her words hit me like a physical blow. I remembered how she used to react when I cried. She used to panic, clumsily wiping my tears away as she held me close, whispering, Miles, please don’t cry. My heart breaks whenever you do. Once, after a nightmare woke me up in tears, she had driven across three neighborhoods in the middle of the night just to buy me a bowl of hot soup. She had told me, You didn’t have anyone to comfort you when you were little. From now on, every time you cry, I’ll be here to hold you. Back then, she truly cared. But now, my tears were only met with a sigh of exhaustion. When your tears no longer touch a person’s heart, it’s time to dry your eyes. I wiped my face and said quietly, “I’m fine.” Lyla looked relieved. She leaned in to kiss me, but I instinctively turned my head away. Her expression turned completely cold, and she ran a frustrated hand through her hair. “Fine. Get some space and calm down.” With that, she turned and locked herself in the study. Later that night, as I was preparing to turn off the lights, the iPad on my nightstand lit up. Lyla’s accounts were still synced to it. I had only intended to turn the screen off, but the notification banner that popped up caught my eye. Alan’s name on the screen sent a dull ache through my chest. Alan: Did you make up with him? Lyla: No. He’s getting harder and harder to deal with lately. Alan: Did you give him a proper makeup session tonight? A few seconds passed before Lyla’s reply appeared. Lyla: Don’t ask. He rejected me. Honestly, we’ve been together for seven years. I’ve lost any physical spark with him anyway. I’m actually glad he turned me down, otherwise I would have had to force myself to touch him. I stared at the screen. My eyes burned, but no tears came. Even showing me affection had become a chore she had to force herself to perform. I shut down the iPad. I placed the obsidian cufflinks back into the designer bag, setting them next to my engagement ring on the entryway table. It felt like returning a dream that had finally ended. Right then, my phone buzzed with a confirmation email. My ticket was booked. Tomorrow at 3:00 AM, a one-way flight to Iceland. From this moment on, wherever I flew in the world, I would never land by her side again. The next morning, as I dragged my suitcase past the study, I noticed the door was slightly ajar. Lyla’s soft laughter drifted out. She was on a video call. On the screen, Alan was lounging in bed, holding a sheet of paper. “Lyla, this part of your wedding vows is way too formal,” he teased, reading aloud. “Miles, thank you for seven years of companionship…” He let out a scoff. “It sounds like a corporate speech.” Lyla laughed. “I’m just not good at writing that kind of stuff.” Alan propped his chin on his hand, looking at her through the screen. “You could say something like, ‘You are my spring, the only person who makes me feel truly light and alive.’ Doesn’t that sound more romantic?” Lyla was quiet for a moment, her voice dropping. “That sounds more like you.” The call fell silent. Alan asked softly, “Are you sure you want to say that to Miles?” Lyla didn’t answer right away. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet. “It doesn’t matter who I read it to at the altar.” “Just pretend I’m secretly saying it to you.” I stood outside the door, my chest feeling as though it were being slowly torn open. For my vows, I had filled three entire pages, editing them over and over to find the perfect balance between sincerity and love. I had asked Lyla if we could write them together, but she had dismissed it, saying, There’s no need for that kind of performance. It wasn’t that she didn’t care about vows. She just didn’t care about writing them for me. Alan leaned closer to his camera, his voice a whisper. “Then come closer.” Lyla didn’t turn away. She simply stared at the screen and let out a soft sigh. “Alan, stop. I’m getting married next week.” Alan looked down, his voice laced with artificial sorrow. “I know. That’s why I wanted to be selfish one last time before you belong to someone else.” Lyla didn’t scold him. Her silence was a quiet indulgence. My fingers turned numb. If she truly felt he was crossing a line, why hadn’t she hung up the phone? Alan quickly shifted to the designs for the wedding venue. “Do we have to display all your old relationship photos? It makes me sad to see how happy you two used to be.” Lyla looked at the screen and replied quietly, “Let’s just take them down then. Miles is dependable, he won’t mind.” I felt a sudden, sharp sting in my eyes. That photo wall was the only part of the wedding I had fought to keep. Photos of the first snow we watched together, of our very first vacation where she held my hand tightly, of the birthday cake she had baked for me… I had curated those memories so carefully because I believed they were proof of our love. But with a single complain from Alan, Lyla dismissed them entirely. When your heart is broken completely, the pain fades into a dull, hollow numbness. I quietly turned and dragged my suitcase toward the front door. My phone buzzed. It was the wedding planner. Mr. Barret, Ms. Barlow just confirmed that the photo wall is canceled and the vows have been updated by Mr. Ward. Are you absolutely certain you want to cancel the wedding? I stared at the text and typed a final reply. Yes. Cancel it. The cold morning air rushed into the hallway as I opened the door. I pulled my suitcase behind me, stepping out into the dawn. Lyla had deleted seven years of our memories with a single sentence. And now, I was leaving her behind. As I stood at the gate, waiting to board my flight, the official cancellation notice finally reached Lyla’s phone. She immediately called the planner, her voice trembling. “What is the meaning of this?” The planner sounded more shocked than she was. “Mr. Barret canceled the wedding himself. He said he accepted a job in Iceland and won’t be coming back.” “Ms. Barlow… did you not know?”

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I was the fake heiress of a billionaire family. When the real daughter finally returned, everyone waited for me to lose my mind and fight for their affection. Instead, I packed my bags with record speed. “I can finally leave? Oh my god, thank you. Thank you so much.” The real heiress stared at me in shock. “You don’t hate me?” I patted her shoulder. “Girl, do you have any idea what the rules are in this house?” “Six in the morning cardio, eight at night curfew, absolute silence at the dinner table, and every single date has to be approved by a corporate board…” The color slowly drained from her face. I gave her a flashy wave. “Good luck with all that. I’m off to taste freedom!” 1 “Incoming call from Bruce. Incoming call from Bruce.” I was slacking off at the office, totally engrossed in a raid on my computer. The sudden ringtone from the family butler startled me so badly my hand jerked, and my character died instantly. “Miss Jenica, Mr. Collins wants you back at the main estate immediately.” I sat up straight, my eyes darting to the calendar in the bottom right corner of my screen. My chest tightened. Could it be that day? “Bruce, is it…” “Yes,” Bruce replied, his tone heavy with gravity. “Miss Lily’s DNA results just came back. Your father has already dispatched a motorcade to pick her up.” I shot out of my office chair like a rocket. In the next cubicle, Gwen was still glued to her screen. My sudden movement made her jump, her eyes wide. “Did you win the lottery or something? Why do you look so happy?” “Better than the lottery!” I shut down my computer at lightning speed, grabbing the little potted succulent from my desk and shoving it into my tote bag. “I’m finally free!” “Okay, but why are you stealing company property?” “I’ve watered this thing for three years. We have an emotional bond.” Half an hour later, I stood at the towering wrought iron gates of the Collins estate, taking a deep breath. This is the last time, Jenica. Just play your part for one final scene, and you can escape this gilded cage forever. 2 Pushing open the heavy oak doors, I found the atmosphere in the living room thick enough to cut with a knife. My dad, my mom, and my older brother, Carter. The three of them sat on the genuine Italian leather sofas in a perfect, rigid triangle. Well, triangles are known for their structural stability. “Dad, Mom, Carter.” I greeted them one by one, the picture of a perfectly raised socialite. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the manila folder containing the DNA report resting on the glass coffee table. I kept my face entirely blank. Inside, I was doing backflips. Which limited edition designer bags should I take with me tonight? My dad didn’t notice the absolute joy dancing in my eyes. He cleared his throat in a tactical maneuver. “Jenica, sit down. We have some news to share with you…” “I’m the fake daughter swapped at birth, the real heiress has been found, and she’s on her way home right now, correct?” I answered before he could finish. “Where is she? I’ll go greet her.” The sprawling, cavernous living room fell into a dead silence. My entire family looked like they had just swallowed sour lemons. Carter narrowed his eyes at me. “Are you okay, Jenica? Did the shock break your brain?” He paused, his voice softening just a fraction. “If you need to cry, just cry. Don’t hold it in.” “Sweetheart, Mom knows you must be devastated…” “Stop right there. I am absolutely fantastic.” I raised a hand to halt their pity party. “When does my sister get here? Do you need me to help decorate her room?” My dad’s brow furrowed into a deep V. “Jenica, you… you aren’t upset? Daddy still loves you, you know.” “Why would I be upset?” I blinked innocently. “Getting a new sister is amazing.” Three pairs of eyes stared at me with heavy suspicion. They clearly didn’t buy a single word. In the script they had written in their heads, my reaction should have been: A. A total mental breakdown with ugly crying. B. Flipping the coffee table in a fit of jealous rage. C. Passing out cold on the Persian rug. They had even prepared themselves to keep Lily waiting outside until I calmed down from my inevitable tantrum. “Lily is coming home. Your status here…” Carter let the sentence hang, his voice low and warning. It was bizarre. He was actually waiting for me to lose my mind. Too bad. I just blinked at them again, refusing to take the bait. Nobody can exploit me if I make myself completely useless. 3 Carter let out a cold scoff. “So dramatic.” Then, like a grade schooler trying to show off, he waved a hand at Bruce. The butler immediately escorted a girl in a simple white sundress into the room. She was biting her lower lip, her expression a mix of terror and unease. She looked like she was bracing herself for a war. The moment I saw her face, I understood exactly how they had tracked down the real heiress. We couldn’t call them identical twins, but she was an absolute carbon copy of our dad. I took a step forward. Instantly, the family’s collective gaze locked onto me, darting frantically between Lily and myself. Feeling a sudden urge to mess with them, I held back a grin and walked toward her in torturously slow motion. Then, under their horrified stares, I threw my arms wide open. “Sister! Welcome home!” Lily froze like a statue. Her eyes went as round as saucers, looking like a deer caught in headlights. She stuttered over her words. “You don’t hate me? I’m taking your place…” “Hate you? I’m trying to figure out how to thank you!” I had barely finished my sentence when a theatrical, rhythmic sobbing erupted behind me. My mom threw herself forward with the dramatic flair of a daytime soap opera star, pulling Lily into a crushing embrace. “My poor, suffering daughter…” My mouth twitched. I silently shuffled a few steps to the side, giving my dad and Carter enough room to join the performance. The four of them huddled together in a tearful group hug. It was a scene straight out of a prime time family drama. Standing on the sidelines, watching their genuine outpouring of emotion, a tiny, fleeting pang of loss brushed against my heart. But I packed that feeling away almost instantly. While they were drowning in the sentimental atmosphere of their family reunion, I quietly backed out of the room. I marched up the grand staircase and began tossing things into my suitcase with ruthless efficiency. The very first casualty was a heavy hardcover book on my nightstand titled The Elegant Socialite’s Guide to Etiquette. It went straight into the trash can. Twenty minutes later, I reappeared at the top of the stairs, dragging a massive Louis Vuitton trunk behind me. The heartwarming family moment below froze completely. The looks on their faces were pure comedy. “Jenica Collins! What on earth are you doing? Have you lost all sense of decorum?” “I’m making room for my sister, obviously.” Lily stood awkwardly by the sofa. “You really don’t have to do that…” Seeing her distress, I walked down the stairs and gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Girl, do you have any idea what the rules are in this house?” 4 She shook her head, looking utterly lost. I started counting on my fingers. “Every single day starts with a six AM run. If you’re out, you have to be back by eight PM sharp. You cannot make a single sound with your silverware while eating. And if you want to date, you need the family board’s approval.” “Oh, right. I almost forgot. On my first date when I was seventeen, they sent three terrifying bodyguards to shadow us. They scared the poor guy so badly he transferred to a different school the next week.” Her face went paper white. She shot a terrified glance at her new parents. My mom tried to cut me off. “Jenica! Stop scaring your sister!” “I’m not scaring anyone.” Just stating the daily facts. Carter was the sharpest of the bunch. He was the first to realize something was genuinely wrong here, asking me exactly where I thought I was going. “I’m going to be a normal person.” He looked at me like I had grown a second head. Taking a long stride, his tall frame blocked my path to the door. “You’ve been pampered and spoiled your entire life. Do you honestly think you can survive outside the Collins family?” I stopped and gave him a highly mysterious smile. “Carter, care to guess exactly how much cash I’ve been secretly hoarding in my private accounts over the years?” “To be completely honest, I’m just thanking God for finally showing me some mercy.” Carter was left utterly speechless. Lily grabbed the sleeve of my faux fur coat, tears welling in her eyes. “Please don’t go…” I patted her head with motherly affection. “Be a good girl. You are the sole hope of the Collins family now.” With that, I gave them a fabulous wave, gripped the handle of my suitcase, and marched out the front door without looking back. “Good luck to all of you. I’m off to chase my freedom!” Outside, Gwen was idling in the driveway in a massive black G-Wagon. When she saw my outfit, her jaw practically hit the steering wheel. “Jenica, are you eloping?” My heels clicked rapidly against the pavement as I broke into a jog. “This is way better than an elopement. This is a prison break!” I scrambled into the passenger seat and yanked the seatbelt across my chest. “Drive, drive, drive! Step on it before they realize what’s happening.” As the engine roared to life, I took one final look at the sprawling estate I had called home for over twenty years. I let out a maniacal, supervillain style laugh. “I, Jenica Collins, am finally free!” As we peeled down the driveway, I could have sworn I heard my mom screaming from the front porch. “Stop her! That suitcase is stuffed with my crocodile skin Birkins!” 5 “So, bestie, where are we going to celebrate?” Gwen’s question snapped me back to reality. Celebrate. Yes. A monumental occasion like this demanded a proper celebration. I rubbed my hands together in sheer excitement. Pulling out my phone, I opened a note I had created ages ago titled 100 Things to Do After Escaping the Collins Family. I announced my plans with raging passion. “Stop one: Greasy late night chili cheese dogs. Stop two: Loaded nachos from that shady truck. Stop three: That BBQ diner that stays open until 4 AM!” Through the open car window, the cool night wind whipped through my hair. It brought the smell of street food, an intoxicating mix of fried grease and savory spices. Back at the estate, every single calorie I consumed was monitored by a private chef. I couldn’t eat anything fattening. I couldn’t eat anything that might dull my complexion. And I certainly wasn’t allowed anywhere near food that smelled pungent. But right now, I rolled the window down all the way, let out a massive cheer, and screamed into the night sky. “To hell with socialite etiquette. I’m going to eat until I explode!” “Yeah right. With your fragile little billionaire stomach, a few greasy ribs are going to put you straight in the ER.” Gwen paused, delivering a strategic and lethal follow up strike. “Besides, do you think William Sinclair is just going to let you vanish?” I choked on my own spit. My fiery rebellion was instantly extinguished. William Sinclair. Just hearing his name felt like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head. Seeing my silence, Gwen clicked her tongue. “What? Did you just chicken out?” “It’s not about chickening out. Corporate marriages are just an exchange of core assets between two dynasties. The most reliable asset is the biological daughter. Who the hell am I?” I might as well be smart about it and keep my distance voluntarily. “Oh, spare me. You two grew up together. William’s feelings for you are…” “You’re overthinking it.” I shook my head firmly. “It’s purely a business alliance. He’s a ruthless machine. He doesn’t care if his bride is Jenica, Lily, or even my brother Carter. As long as the last name is Collins, it makes no difference to him.” Who was William Sinclair? He was the undisputed heir to the Sinclair empire, a man who had terrified veteran executives at the negotiation table when he was only sixteen. He took over the global conglomerate at twenty, establishing himself as a brutal, blood chilling force in the financial world. To a man like that, feelings were probably the most worthless commodity on the market. Why must happiness be so fleeting? My heart cracked a little as I stared out the window. “He used to be my future husband. Now he’s going to be my brother in law.” 6 By noon the next day, I woke up with a hangover so vicious it felt like a freight train had parked on my skull. I dragged myself out of bed, completely disoriented. Bright sunlight poured through the windows. Squinting at my phone, I saw the time: 1:30 PM. Perfect. I had successfully slept through breakfast and lunch. Classic me. My notifications were exploding with a barrage of texts from Gwen. “So? How was your quality time with William Sinclair last night? Did you guys unlock any new locations? The bed? The couch? Against the mirror? Against the floor to ceiling windows?” “No need to thank me. I know you’ve been thirsting over that man for years. Losing control is only human nature.” [GIF of someone winking aggressively] “Honestly though, Sinclair is looking like a full course meal these days. I’d take a bite myself.” What? What was she talking about? Where did William come from? I dug my fingers into my temples, desperately trying to fish out any fragmented memories from the black hole of my blackout. But my brain offered absolutely nothing. I scrolled further down the chat and saw a video clip. The moment I tapped play, I nearly chucked my phone across the room. Oh god. In the video, my face was flushed bright pink. My eyes were totally unfocused. I was standing with one foot perched on a plastic patio chair at the diner. Looking up at the night sky at a dramatic forty five degree angle, I took a melancholic sip from a Capri Sun pouch and spoke in a deep, philosophical tone. “Gwen, you must remember this life lesson. Love will always betray you. But a double chocolate layer cake never will.” Gwen’s voice could be heard off camera, dripping with disgust. “Are you speaking English right now?” I held up a single, solemn finger directly at the lens. With my other hand, I slowly reached into my tote bag, pulled out a stark white chef’s hat, and placed it on my head with the gravity of a coronation. “The old Jenica is dead. Standing before you now is Jenica the Great. The woman who will make you wait in line for three hours just to buy her signature cheesecake.” Gwen’s sense of humor was practically nonexistent. She was laughing so hard the camera shook violently. “Oh my god, your main character syndrome is out of control… Wait!” Her voice abruptly hitched in the video. “Behind you…” On screen, I scoffed, refusing to look back. “Trying to trick me again? Last time we were at the club you pulled the exact same…” The next second, my on screen self froze solid. Because a long, elegantly pale hand draped itself gently over my shoulder. I turned around in a drunken stupor, locking eyes with a familiar, slightly exasperated pair of dark eyes. It was William. 7 William was dressed in a razor sharp, bespoke three piece suit. His tie was perfectly knotted. He radiated an aura of ruthless corporate elite, looking entirely out of place amidst the greasy smoke of a late night diner. And there I was, foot resting on a plastic chair, wearing a chef’s hat, clutching a Capri Sun. The air in the video seemed to freeze. On screen, I blinked slowly. Suddenly, a massive grin broke across my face, and I reached out to poke his cheek. “Huh? What is William doing in a place like this? Am I dreaming…” I leaned in closer, studying him through a hazy, drunken fog. “But why is this dream version of William so cold? He doesn’t even know how to smile…” Saying that, my hands suddenly grabbed both sides of his face, and I forcefully pushed his cheeks upward. I physically dragged his face into a terrifying “smile”. I even knocked his gold rimmed glasses slightly askew. Behind the lenses, those usually calm, unreadable eyes widened in rare shock. His long eyelashes fluttered. The video abruptly cut off. Me: “…” The phone slipped from my hand and hit the mattress with a soft thud. I slid off the edge of the bed until I hit the floor, burying my face in my hands and letting out a hollow wail of pure despair. “Just kill me now.” Right as I was calculating the logistics of faking my own death and fleeing the country, my phone started ringing. Caller ID: [William the Iceberg] I scrambled to pick it up, my voice trembling like a leaf. “H-hello??” His voice came through the speaker. It was deep, low, and carried a faint, barely detectable trace of exhaustion. “You’re awake?” “A-awake. Yes.” I curled into a ball of shame. “Does your head hurt?” “I-it’s manageable.” “Good. The kitchen is on the second floor. My chef left some hangover soup for you on the stove.” Your second floor? A horrifying realization crashed into me. I looked around. I was in a completely unfamiliar bedroom, decorated in an ultra minimalist palette of black, white, and gray. There was a half empty iced Americano sitting on the nightstand. I was in William Sinclair’s house. “Wait a minute! Why am I at your house?” 8 A heavy silence stretched over the line for two agonizing seconds. “You had too much to drink last night. You threw up all over my suit, and you ruined your own clothes. When I offered to drive you back to the Collins estate, you wrapped your arms around a streetlamp and refused to let go, screaming that you’d rather die than go back.” “Then you grabbed my sleeve, demanded that we elope, and asked if I was willing to run away with you…” Me: “…” “Gwen suddenly remembered an ‘urgent emergency’. She grabbed her car keys and practically sprinted away, looking like a woman on a sacred mission. So, my only option was to bring you here.” I was cringing so hard my toes were cramping. “So… we didn’t… you know. We didn’t do anything inappropriate, right?” “You really don’t remember a single thing from last night? Do you have any idea what you did to me…” His tone sounded utterly incredulous, but he cut himself off before finishing the sentence. My heart rate instantly spiked to a hundred and eighty beats per minute. A thousand wildly explicit scenarios flashed through my brain. The bed. The couch. Against the mirror. The floor to ceiling windows. Did we actually… do it?! Jenica Collins, that is your future brother in law! You are an absolute monster! Worse than a monster! “I remember! I remember! I just… maybe the details are a little fuzzy…” I let out a hollow laugh, desperately trying to cover up the fact that my mind was a total blank. I could hear the metallic tap of a fountain pen against a mahogany desk through the receiver. Tap. Tap. Tap. Beating right against my frayed nerves. A moment later, a faint, almost imperceptible sigh came through the phone. “Jenica.” “Present!” I answered out of pure reflex, standing up straight like a student called on by the principal. “Last night you mentioned…” He paused. “You want to open a bakery?” My heart did a little jump. “Y-yes. That’s the plan.” “Do you need venture capital?” I waved my hands frantically, even though he couldn’t see me. This tiny little business didn’t need Sinclair level investment. I had already done the math. The private stash of cash I’d saved up, combined with the limited edition bags I “liberated” from the estate, was more than enough to secure a storefront. “No, no, I’m fully funded. Just come by and buy a cupcake once in a while. Be my lucky charm.” “Alright,” he agreed easily. “I’ll be there on your grand opening day.” My eyes practically turned into dollar signs. The God of Wealth was gracing me with his presence. I could hear a low chuckle through the phone, a quiet, rich sound that held a hint of genuine amusement. Just when I thought the conversation was wrapping up, he suddenly dropped a sentence entirely out of nowhere. “What if I said I am willing?” I blinked. “Huh?” “Never mind.” His voice instantly snapped back to its usual icy composure, as if that brief moment of vulnerability was just a figment of my imagination. “Get some rest.” 9 After he hung up, my phone screen lit up with a new notification. A friend request hovered on the screen: [Lily Collins has requested to add you as a friend.] Her profile picture was a meme of a crying cat. I hit accept. Almost instantly, a voice memo popped up. Her voice sounded choked with tears. “Jenica, I didn’t realize how exhausting your life has been all these years. How did you manage to survive it?” I stared at the screen, falling into deep thought. How did I survive? By being a coward with zero backbone, obviously. But since she asked so nicely, I had to give her something. [It’s a piece of cake. (Emoji with a rose in its teeth)] Lily seemed amused. “I need to learn from you! I’m going to stay strong!” She followed it up with a [We can do this!] sticker. I replied with a [Head pat] emoji, casually adding, “My new bakery is opening in a couple of days. Do you want to drop by? Infinite free cake for you. You can eat whatever you want, as much as you want.” Nobody in their right mind turns down fresh cake. Lily was clearly touched. “I’m majoring in marketing at college. I’m going to write a dedicated promotional post for your shop on my socials to pay you back… and to pay for the cake!” She sounded as excited as a little kid. I smiled and shook my head, not taking it too seriously. It wasn’t until opening day that I realized how drastically I had underestimated my little sister’s internet clout. 10 The morning sun had barely touched the display window before a massive line snaked out the front door and down the block. Crowds of girls had their phones out, aggressively snapping photos of the pastries in the glass case. “It’s true! This is the place the ‘Sweet Tooth Detective’ recommended!” “I saw the viral post too! This tiramisu looks insane. I have to review this for my followers!” “Oh my god, I am literally crying over this velvet cake. I’ll say it a million times: humanity needs cake like the earth needs the sun!” [Cash App transfer received: $52.00] [Apple Pay received: $88.00] The glorious chime of the register rang out continuously like an angelic choir. My smile grew so wide it threatened to split my face in half. I had no idea I was related to a heavy hitter. Lily ran a massive food influencer account with over two hundred thousand followers. My parents had absolutely no clue. As I counted the cash, I silently repented. Jenica, you terrible person. Look at this sweet angel of a sister, and you’re still secretly thirsting after her fiancé? You are absolute garbage! By noon, the crowd doubled. My hands were moving so fast while boxing pastries that they were practically a blur. Even though I was rushed off my feet, even though my arms were shaking from exhaustion, the feeling was absolutely euphoric. The joy of making my own money, the grounding reality of building something with my own two hands. It was a sensation I had never experienced in the gilded cage of the Collins estate. 11 By six PM, the rush finally died down. I was leaning over the counter, tallying up the day’s revenue, when the brass bell above the door chimed. “Sorry, we’re totally sold out for the day…” I looked up and the words died in my throat. William stood in the doorway, dressed in a sharp charcoal gray three piece suit. Behind him, parked in the fading evening light, his Maybach gleamed with the sinful glow of exorbitant wealth. Just looking at him standing there, I could practically hear the money whispering in the air. Damn. The man I had my eye on really was built differently. That aura was unmatched. He walked up to the counter, his dark eyes locking onto me. He looked genuinely surprised. “In all the years you lived at the estate, I’ve never seen you look as happy as you did today. I honestly thought you only opened a bakery because you had nowhere else to go.” I chuckled, happily stacking a pile of bills. “Mr. Sinclair, you just don’t get it. If everyone in the world is busy being a billionaire CEO or a high society socialite, who is going to bake all the soft, delicious cakes?” “Besides, someone in this world has to play the role of the ordinary person.” “No dramatic ups and downs, no cutthroat boardroom battles. Just quietly existing in the background, playing a small, happy part in the universe.” William listened quietly. After a long moment, his gaze swept over the completely empty pastry displays. His voice turned slightly hoarse. “On my way here, I saw someone walking down the street carrying one of your boxes. They looked incredibly happy.” He paused, lowering his voice. “I imagine it must taste wonderful.” “It’s a shame I was too late.” “I’m sorry. It seems like… I’m never able to show up by your side at the right time.”

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