Category: English

Flat broke and the family disgrace, I survived by playing the ultimate simp to Connor. Obsessed with the proud scholarship girl, he showered her with luxury—breakfasts, bags, cash, imported flowers. She rejected everything, so it all trickled down to me. I hoarded the cast-offs, funding my entire high school career. At graduation, his grand public confession failed. He curled a finger at me. “The ring is yours. Be with me?” I stared at the blinding fifteen-carat diamond and nodded. My college tuition was secured. We lasted seven years—until the scholarship girl joined his firm as his executive secretary. This time, she accepted everything, moving into the luxury mansion he provided. His circle braced for my breakdown; his buddy warned me not to be a crazy girlfriend. A guy like him would never marry a nobody like me; it was just for fun. At least his feelings for her were real. I’d seen the writing on the wall long ago. So, I accepted an overseas job offer. I refused to waste my life clinging to delusions of becoming his wife. 1 I was born for exactly one reason. To be a spare-parts baby for my sick older brother. But my bone marrow wasn’t a match. So my parents dumped me in a rundown rural town upstate to live with my grandma. She barely had a dime to her name. Growing up, we survived on her meager social security checks and whatever recycling she could collect to put me through school. By the time I hit high school, Grandma was getting too old to haul bags of cans around. My allowance was practically non-existent. After paying for class fees and textbooks, my food budget was shot. I chugged tap water every day just to kill the hunger pangs. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I would buy a cheap pack of stale bagels, split one into quarters, and stretch it out over two days. That was my life until the wealthy new transfer student, Connor, brought breakfast for Brooke, the scholarship girl in our class. It was a gourmet double cheeseburger and a steaming artisan latte. I had never eaten anything like that in my life. Just smelling it made my mouth water uncontrollably. Brooke coldly pushed his breakfast away. “I don’t need charity from some spoiled rich kid.” I stared at the food knocked onto the floor. I needed it. I walked over, picked it up, and handed it back to Connor. “Don’t be sad.” His eyes were totally red. He glared at me. “Who the hell said I’m sad?!” He stormed off, leaving the food behind. I figured it was fair game. I opened the wrapper and devoured it like a starving animal, tears of pure joy streaming down my face. Oh my god. That burger was the greatest thing I had ever tasted in my life. From that day on, I started quietly shadowing Connor. I had no hidden agenda. I just wanted to eat meat. He was relentless, bringing Brooke different luxury breakfasts every single day. Thanks to him, I sampled traditional English breakfasts, French pastries, German sausages, and high-end American brunches. A few times, I really wanted to warn him to skip the authentic French baguettes. They were way too hard. Chewing on those with cold tap water was a nightmare for my jaw. If I chipped a tooth, the dental bill would set me back at least fifty bucks. After a month of scavenging his rejected breakfasts, someone posted about me on the school’s anonymous gossip forum. They called me Connor’s delusional stalker. They said I ate the food thrown on the floor, crying as I chewed. They claimed I followed him around every day because I couldn’t stand seeing his true love trampled on, terrified that his heart would break. We became the school’s most pathetic love triangle. He simped for Brooke, and I simped for him. I was at the absolute bottom of the food chain. 2 I actually wanted to pull him aside and clear the air. I wanted to tell him I wasn’t secretly in love with him. I was just starving. I wasn’t terrified of his true love being trampled. I was terrified of good food going in the trash. But right as I approached him, I caught him trying to hand Brooke a handbag. The bag was covered in that iconic monogram pattern. Wouldn’t the straps snap if you tried to carry textbooks in that thing? Brooke arrogantly pushed him away again. “Don’t think buying me an eight-thousand-dollar bag is going to make me fall for you. I’m not a gold digger.” Eight… eight thousand? That tiny piece of leather cost eight grand? Connor let out a cold laugh and pointed right at me. “You. Come here.” I stumbled over, totally dazed. “Are you in love with me?” I looked at his face, as cold and sharp as ice. I looked him up and down. Even in a basic prep school uniform, he radiated wealth. To be honest, Connor was incredibly hot. He had that old-money aesthetic, sharp cheekbones, and an unruly, rebellious edge. In our small, rundown town, he stood out like a sore thumb. He was pale, gorgeous, and so arrogant no one dared to breathe the same air as him. But my mind instantly flashed back to the juicy pulled pork sandwich from that morning. I swallowed hard. “I’m just hungry. I want to eat…” My intense, hungry stare actually made his ears turn bright red. He shoved the designer bag roughly into my arms. “Enough. Girls should have some modesty. What kind of wild stuff are you saying? Just take the bag. It’s useless to me anyway.” I clutched the bag to my chest, smiling so hard my face hurt. This was eight thousand dollars. This could take so much weight off Grandma’s shoulders. I could buy her a massage chair. I could finally take her to a real doctor for her bad back. And more importantly, I wouldn’t just get gourmet breakfasts anymore. I could afford the premium meat combo at the cafeteria for lunch. Connor physically flinched at my blinding smile. He crossed his arms and raised a challenging eyebrow at Brooke. “See? You don’t want it, but plenty of people do. Look how happy she is.” Brooke furrowed her perfect brows, glaring at me like I was absolute trash. “You have no self-respect. Getting tangled up with a rich kid like him is going to ruin your reputation.” She hugged her textbooks to her chest and marched away in disgust. Connor slumped down on the curb, looking completely defeated. He started digging through his pockets. I rushed forward and grabbed his wrist. “No smoking.” We were still in high school. Getting caught smoking meant suspension. “Who said I’m smoking? I’m eating a lollipop.” He pulled two lemon-flavored lollipops out of his pocket and shoved one into my hand. We sat on the curb for a long time, quietly eating our candy. He told me to stop following him around. He wasn’t going to give up on Brooke. I rejected his request without a second thought. “No.” If I left him, who was going to buy me breakfast? Who was going to hand me eight-thousand-dollar bags? His face flushed scarlet, and he ran away. 3 I shadowed Connor for the rest of high school. The whole school mocked us as the Simp Duo. Neither of us ever gave up. Okay, technically they mostly mocked me. Connor had the looks and the bank account, so no one really dared to laugh in his face. If they knew exactly what I was gaining from this arrangement, they would have died of jealousy. Connor gave Brooke a mountain of luxury gifts. A Cartier necklace worth five grand. Imported exotic roses that I picked up and immediately flipped to a local florist for three thousand. Aside from the scavenging, Connor and I actually got pretty close. Brooke hated lazy trust-fund kids, so he decided to actually try in school. He hired me as his private tutor. A hundred and fifty bucks an hour. Plus a hundred-dollar bonus for every spot he moved up in the class rankings. During our study sessions, he would vent about his parents. They never paid attention to him. They only threw money at him. He deliberately acted out just to get their attention. The only time he ever saw them was when they were called into the principal’s office. Recently, he had entered an illegal underground motorcycle race and nearly died crashing into a mountain road. His parents were so furious they dumped him in this rural town to “build character” and forced him to live in this “shithole.” I stared around the massive, four-thousand-square-foot luxury cabin. A shithole. I was going to die of jealousy. Why couldn’t I have parents who completely ignored me and just threw thousands of dollars at my face? My parents just ignored me. They didn’t even bother coming back to see me on holidays. They had wanted to throw me away from the start. In a town like ours, unwanted baby girls were sometimes just drowned in buckets, and no one batted an eye. Grandma had fished me out of the water. She insisted on raising me, even when my parents explicitly told her they wouldn’t give her a single dime. Paying for my brother’s medical bills had drained all their savings. I never really understood it. We were both their children. Why couldn’t I get even a tiny fraction of their love? Connor was throwing a pity party over a five-hundred-thousand-dollar yearly allowance. What kind of tragic role was he trying to play? The sorrow of the ultra-rich was truly beyond my peasant comprehension. If my parents were willing to give me even five hundred bucks a year, I would have cried tears of absolute gratitude. I wouldn’t have had to spend every summer wading through muddy creeks to catch fish and snails to sell at the market just to buy food. I wouldn’t have had to work under-the-table jobs every winter break, dealing with shady bosses who stole half my paycheck. If I dared to ask for my missing wages, they would just scream at me to take it or leave. And I would have to swallow my pride and keep working just to keep those pathetic scraps. When I was little, the hunger was so bad I used to lick the salt shaker just to taste something. Watching Connor act so tragically depressed, I offered a very dismissive reply. “Wow, that sucks. But don’t be too sad. There’s always someone out there who loves you unconditionally. You just have to look for it.” His parents were just busy. How could they not love him? He looked at me, his face suddenly turning bright red. He looked down, awkwardly flipping through his workbook, and snapped at me. “Stop saying stuff like that.” “Alright, let’s just study. If you don’t want to hear it, I won’t say it.” After studying, I even took the liberty of showing off my cooking skills. Mostly because his fridge was packed with high-end cuts of meat I had never seen before in my life. “You don’t have to be this nice to me. It won’t work.” I felt a surge of guilt and violently stuffed my face with Wagyu beef that was about to spill out of my bowl. Rich people even named their cows differently. This meat was so tender and incredibly flavorful. “I’m not being that nice.” After all, his bowl was mostly noodles with barely any meat. He gave me a weird look, sighed heavily, and went back to eating his noodles in silence. Afterward, he gave me a ride home on his motorcycle. I asked him three times if he actually had a license. He told me he was held back a year because of bad grades, so he was already eighteen and fully licensed. That was one thing we had in common. I wasn’t held back, but we couldn’t afford school early on, so I started late. I was eighteen too. He looked genuinely cool riding that bike. The night wind was freezing. I hopped off the back of the motorcycle. He planted his feet on the ground, pulled off his helmet, looked around the desolate area, and casually asked, “Which one is your house?” I pointed at the crumbling trailer ahead. That was an actual shithole. “Right there.” He twitched his lips. “I thought that was an abandoned shed.” Was he serious right now? “Alright, hurry up and go home. It’s late. There might be wild animals out here. It’s not safe.” “Aw, you care about me.” “Obviously.” He was my ultimate sugar daddy. I desperately wanted him to stick around this town for as long as possible. He quickly jammed his helmet back on and sped off into the night. 4 Later on, I scored a debit card loaded with fifty thousand dollars that Brooke had thrown away. Brooke’s mother had fallen severely ill, and Connor had tried to give her the rest of his yearly allowance to help out. She tossed the card right back at him. “You can’t buy love with money. Stop coming after me.” Connor was already used to the rejections. He just froze for a second. “I only want to help you.” “I don’t need it.” I picked up the card and shoved it back into Connor’s hand. “Don’t be sad. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. At least she doesn’t look at you with total disgust anymore.” He gave a weak, mocking smile, looking at me like he was thanking me. “You didn’t pocket this one.” He was totally used to me scavenging his rejected trash. “Well, I don’t know the PIN code.” I gave him an awkward, sheepish smile. “052100. It’s my birthday.” I took the card, marched straight to the hospital billing department, and paid off Brooke’s mother’s medical debt. With the leftover cash, I paid for Grandma’s surgery. Thankfully, it was just a minor procedure to remove some polyps. That night, Connor was so heartbroken he dragged me out to drink with him until dawn. He told me he genuinely, deeply loved Brooke. “What do you even like about her?” “Love at first sight. Some people are just like that. You see them once, and they’re stuck in your head forever. But every time I try to pursue her, she thinks I’m trying to humiliate her with my money.” I took a slow sip of my Coke. Why couldn’t someone specifically humiliate me with money? Thank god I was proactive about picking up the scraps. “I’ve studied my ass off this whole year just to match her class rank. I joined her clubs just to be near her. But she’s always so damn cold to me.” I noticed he was dangerously close to crying. Feeling a little sentimental myself, I patted him gently on the back. “You still have time. Don’t give up. Stone can be worn away by drops of water. Maybe she’ll accept you soon.” Thinking about how much weaker Grandma looked after her surgery, my own eyes started to turn red. He frantically shoved a pack of tissues into my hands. “If it hurts you this much, you don’t have to lie and cheer me on.” 5 I managed to drag his grades up from dead last at 360th to the top 200. His scores were a solid hundred points higher than when he first transferred. His parents in New York originally wanted to bring him back, but they decided to let him stay in our rural town to take his SATs. After all, his grades at the elite Manhattan prep school had been a total disaster. He was actually doing better out here in the sticks. When I heard the news, I was ecstatic. I was so happy I treated him to dinner at a nice local diner, ordering a whole table of expensive dishes I had craved for years but never dared to buy. “I’m staying, and you’re this happy?” “Of course I’m happy.” If his grades kept going up, I would make more bonus money. Then I could afford to apply to out-of-state colleges. Living in a big city was expensive. I needed to leave enough money for Grandma to survive comfortably, and I needed cash for plane tickets to visit her during summer and winter breaks. Every single thing required money. I had been craving this diner’s food for ages but could never justify the cost. Biting into a piece of perfect braised pork, I nodded furiously, smiling so hard my cheeks ached. Suddenly, a finger flicked me hard on the forehead. “You’re smiling like an idiot.” 6 On graduation day, he prepared a massive, theatrical confession. Honestly, it was way too extra. He even brought out a diamond ring the size of a pigeon egg. A massive crowd gathered to watch. Brooke massaged her temples, looking like she had a massive migraine. “Can you stop acting like a child? All you ever think about is romance and dating. I have a real life to build. I can’t afford to waste time on spoiled rich boys like you.” This time, Connor didn’t seem too heartbroken. Maybe the endless string of rejections had finally numbed him. He turned around and waved a finger at me. “Riley, do you want to go out with me?” I saw the lingering traces of sadness buried deep in his eyes. I saw the mocking stares of the crowd around us. And then I saw the massive diamond. That thing had to be worth a fortune. I nodded like my life depended on it. Yes, absolutely yes. When he slid the ring onto my finger, it was too small and got stuck on my second knuckle. Brooke froze for a long second before letting out a sneer of absolute disgust. “You two brainless idiots actually deserve each other.” I strongly disagreed with her assessment. I had just been accepted into Stanford on a full ride. And after three years of brutal, relentless studying, Connor had managed to get into Stanford too. Who the hell was brainless? We were the ultimate academic comeback story. 7 And just like that, we were together. I originally thought we were just putting on a show. I figured once the graduation hype died down, we would quietly go back to being somewhat-friends. But he actually took the boyfriend role seriously. He didn’t even go back to New York that summer. He stayed and helped Grandma with the farm chores and fed the chickens. Grandma was still recovering from surgery and needed the rest. A city boy like him had no idea how to do manual labor. He made an absolute fool of himself. He wiped out in the mud trying to plant vegetables, getting covered in filth from head to toe. He got chased around the yard by aggressive roosters while trying to feed them. He made Grandma and me laugh until our stomachs hurt. He even promised Grandma he would take good care of me at Stanford. And he actually kept his word. Thanks to him, I flew first-class for the first time in my life on our way to California. For all four years of college, he treated me incredibly well. He officially took over providing that daily gourmet breakfast he used to throw away. He even took culinary classes and started cooking for me from scratch. On holidays, he drowned me in expensive gifts. He memorized my class schedule and enrolled in all the exact same electives. He matured so much during those years. He grew into a truly magnetic, compelling man. Whenever girls confessed to him or asked for his number, he would just point at me. “I have a girlfriend.” They would usually sneer at my basic clothes. “She’s completely average and dresses like a charity case. She’s not good enough for you.” He would glare at them with absolute ice. “You’re not even in the same stratosphere as her. Don’t embarrass yourself by trying to compare.” Whenever I got sick, he stayed by my side and nursed me back to health. Once, I came down with a severe fever. After getting an IV drip at the clinic, I went back to my cheap off-campus apartment to rest. He expertly cooked me a light soup, fed me my meds, and constantly checked my forehead to see if the fever was breaking. Aside from Grandma, he was the first person to ever care for me with that kind of devotion. After my fever broke, I looked at him slumped over asleep in the chair next to my bed. I asked if he wanted to come up and sleep on the mattress so he’d be more comfortable. The first thing he said when he climbed in, his eyes burning with absolute seriousness, was: “I’m a guy. Are you really sure this is a good idea?” I looked him up and down. In college, he had started hitting the gym hard. He had an eight-pack, he’d grown even taller, easily hitting six-foot-two. His face had lost its boyish softness and become incredibly striking and sharp. Human nature is human nature. Honestly, I kind of wanted to test drive him. “We’re dating, aren’t we? Even if something happens, it’s completely normal.” After he got into bed, I realized I had slept too much during the day and was wide awake. I propped my head on my hand, tracing the sharp lines of his face. I felt something rigid pressing against my thigh. “Stop pretending to be asleep.” His eyes snapped open. He yanked me into his chest, his voice dangerously hoarse. “You started this.” We kissed. It was our first truly intense, overwhelming kiss. Not just a soft press of lips. It was heavy with raw desire. His hands were shaking as they slipped beneath my nightgown. “Is this okay?” I teased him. “Maybe not. I’m still sick.” His face turned bright red. He looked at me, totally frustrated and incredibly pathetic, and moved to roll over and go to sleep. After a long pause, I stopped teasing him. I kissed him softly and pulled his hand back. … His body was definitely top-tier. But the actual performance was a serious letdown. Feeling a little disappointed, I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face in his chest. “Let’s just go to sleep.” His neck went stiff, and his face burned scarlet. “It’s just because you teased me for so long! Give me another chance. I… it was my first time. I didn’t know what I was doing. I promise it won’t happen again.” He tormented me for the entire rest of the night. I was literally crying, begging him to stop. I told him it was enough. I told him he was incredibly gifted. I apologized for ever doubting his stamina. He refused to stop. “You were disappointed. I have to make it up to you, babe.” Finally, I had to use the excuse that I was still recovering from a fever, and my body genuinely couldn’t take it anymore, before he finally let me go. After that night, Connor seemed to unlock a new obsession. He constantly pressured me to move into his luxury penthouse. But I stubbornly insisted on staying in my cheap, cramped apartment. So he just started crashing at my tiny place, exhausting me every single night. For four years, we were perfectly fine. Sometimes, looking at the endless, manic energy he poured into me. During those countless intimate nights in bed, he would look at me with dazed eyes and whisper that he loved me to death. He said it so often that sometimes, I actually started to hallucinate that his love was real.

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1 On the day the city was hit by the worst torrential rain in a decade, I called my wife, Candy, at least three times, begging her to pick up our son from school. After four straight hours of weather broadcasts, I got a call from my son’s teacher the second I finished. “John’s dad, I know you and your wife are incredibly busy, but you can’t just forget your child like this!” Mrs. Higgins said over the line. “John waited outside the school gates in the freezing rain for over an hour. He was completely soaked before another parent finally offered him a ride home.” Panic seizing my chest, I rushed home through the flooded streets. Pushing open John’s bedroom door, I found my little boy curled up under the blankets, his small frame shivering violently. He wasn’t crying, but his voice was thick with hurt. “Mom told me to wait at the gate, Dad. She said she was coming right back. But I waited so long… and then everyone else was gone.” I pressed my hand to his forehead, it was burning hot. Just as I pulled out my phone to call Candy, a text from her popped up: Jared and Milo got stranded on the flooded highway. I had to go rescue them. Is John home yet? For the past five years, Candy’s excuse was always the same: Jared was a single dad, and raising a kid alone was hard, so we had to help out. But now, she had abandoned her own flesh and blood in a historic storm just to hold an umbrella over another man. I stared at the screen, a cold realization settling into my bones. Every second I had wasted trying to make this marriage work was a betrayal of my son. I locked my phone, refusing to reply. Perhaps sensing she had gone too far, Candy actually came home early. She slammed the front door open, her face twisted in annoyance. “Didn’t you see my text? Why didn’t you let me know John made it back? I was worried sick, running red lights to get home, and you’re just sitting here giving me the silent treatment again!” When I didn’t answer, she let out an exasperated sigh and walked into John’s room. Kneeling by his bed, she softened her voice slightly. “Hey, John, sweetie, don’t be mad at Mom. I had a major emergency to take care of today. Tell you what, I’ll take you to the amusement park this weekend, okay?” In the past, John would have sat up instantly, his eyes shining as he made her pinky-promise. He would have written about it in his journal and planned his outfit days in advance. But ever since Jared divorced and moved back to the city with his son, Milo, Candy’s promises had become worthless. John’s school sign-in sheets only ever bore my signature. In his drawings and essays about family, the page marked ‘Mom’ was always left blank. John didn’t look at her. He simply pulled the blanket higher, burying his face deeper into his pillow, his back turned to his mother. My chest ached with a sharp, physical pain, and I dug my nails into my palms to force down the useless tears. Candy tried coaxing him for another minute, reaching out to ruffle his hair, when her phone rang. The screen lit up with Jared’s name. As soon as she answered, his panicked voice filled the quiet room. “Candy… Milo has a high fever. I’m so scared, I don’t know what to do…” This wasn’t his first time playing the helpless victim to lure her away. Right on cue, Candy’s face filled with intense anxiety. “Stay calm, Jared. I’m on my way.” She hung up and instantly began rummaging through our medicine cabinet. I stepped in front of her, blocking her path. “What are you looking for?” “Milo has a fever. Where’s the pediatric ibuprofen?” “John has a fever too. That’s the last bottle, and I need it for him.” Candy shoved my hand away, grabbing the bottle and slipping it into her coat. “It’s just one night, John will survive! Milo’s fever is dangerous, and Jared is having a panic attack! Jared’s father drowned saving my life when we were kids! I owe their family everything. Stop being so incredibly selfish!” Grabbing her car keys, she slammed the front door, leaving us in the dark. I stood alone in the quiet house, a hollow laugh escaping my lips. It took me five years to finally accept that, in her eyes, our son’s life would never be as important as Jared’s. I opened every delivery app on my phone, but due to the storm, every local pharmacy was sold out of fever reducers. John tossed and turned, whimpering in his sleep. “Mom… you promised… you lied…” Tears blurred my vision as I wiped his shivering body down with cool water, placing a damp cloth on his forehead. But his fever kept climbing. I called Candy over a dozen times before she finally picked up, her tone dripping with annoyance. “John’s fever is at 104. The roads are flooded and I can’t get medicine. You need to come back and help me get him to the ER.” “Nolan, stop being so dramatic,” she sighed. “I know you’re mad that I left, but using our son’s health to guilt-trip me is low.” I didn’t say another word. I simply hung up. I wrapped John in a dry blanket and carried him out into the rain. The streets were flooded up to my calves, making driving impossible. The nearest children’s clinic was nearly a mile away, and I trudged through the dark, icy water, shielding his head from the downpour. By the time we reached the clinic, John was semi-conscious. After the doctor administered an IV, he finally drifted into a peaceful sleep. Sitting by his bedside, I opened social media and saw Jared’s latest post: So thankful for the woman who always has my back. The attached photo showed Candy from behind, standing in Jared’s warm kitchen, stirring a pot of soup. The comments were filled with praise: Candy is such a loyal friend! You’re so lucky to have her, Jared. I stared at the words, a wave of pure nausea washing over me. John stirred, opening his heavy eyelids. “Dad… where’s Mom?” “She’s busy, buddy.” Six months ago, I had received a prestigious anchor offer from the Port City weather network. Candy had clung to me then, crying, “Honey, my firm is here in Bayport, and I’m always so swamped. What will I do if you leave?” I had believed her. I turned down the dream job to keep our family together. Now, I realized she wasn’t swamped, she was just busy playing house with another man. John didn’t ask any more questions, showing no disappointment. He just pressed his face into my shoulder. “It’s okay. I just need you.” I kissed his cool forehead, whispering softly, “From now on, John, it’s just you and me. We don’t need her anymore.” 2 John spent three days in the pediatric ward recovering. Candy never showed up once, and neither of us ever brought up her name. The day after we were discharged, John signed up for the state youth martial arts tournament. His coach called me personally, telling me John had a real shot at the gold medal if we prepared well. John practiced tirelessly every afternoon, his little toes covered in blisters, but he never complained once. The night before the tournament, Candy actually came home. John was practicing his forms in the living room when she walked in. He paused for a second, but instead of running to her like he used to, he simply turned away and continued his routine. Candy looked visibly uncomfortable. She pressed her lips together and said, “The big tournament is tomorrow, right?” John ignored her completely. Not wanting a scene, I gave a polite, distant reply. “Two o’clock tomorrow afternoon.” She nodded. “Milo is competing too. I promised Jared I’d be there to cheer him on.” I didn’t say anything. Candy had never attended a single one of John’s school plays or events, always citing an emergency with Jared’s family. Over time, John had stopped expecting her to show up. The next afternoon, I took half a day off from the station to accompany John to the arena. After changing into his uniform, he slipped on his sneakers and ran to the corner to stretch. A second later, he let out a sharp cry of pain. “Dad! Something’s in my shoe!” I rushed over and pulled off his shoe. His white sock was already soaked in bright red blood. When I shook the shoe out, several small, jagged shards of broken glass tumbled onto the floor. I looked up, scanning the arena. In the VIP waiting area, Candy was standing next to Jared, helping Milo tie his belt. When our eyes met, she instantly looked away, guilt written all over her face. I handed John to his coach, asking him to take my boy to the first-aid station, and marched over to Candy. I grabbed her arm and pulled her into an empty corridor. “You put glass in John’s shoes, didn’t you?” Her throat bobbed nervously, but she quickly became defensive. “Milo started training late, and the coach said John was guaranteed to beat him. Jared was so stressed out, he was terrified Milo’s confidence would be shattered. I just wanted to give Milo a fair shot at winning. John is naturally athletic, he can win any other tournament later.” “So you put broken glass in your own son’s shoes? Do you have any idea how badly he’s bleeding right now?” She rubbed her temples, looking annoyed. “John is a tough kid, Nolan. A couple of tiny scratches won’t kill him. It’s just a little pain to teach him resilience. Why do you always have to make such a big deal out of everything?” I stared at her, utterly horrified. “You deliberately hurt our son to spare another man’s kid some minor disappointment?” Exposed, her voice rose in anger. “Nolan, stop overreacting! John has you to pamper him. Jared and Milo have absolutely no one else in their corner!” Her warped logic made me physically sick. I had no desire to argue anymore. Trying to make a blind, heartless person see reason was a complete waste of breath. With John sidelined, Milo took home the gold medal. As he stood on the podium holding the trophy, Candy applauded proudly, her smile brighter than any I had ever seen on her face during our marriage. While John was changing in the locker room, his coach walked up to me, looking deeply troubled. “Nolan… I saw the security footage near the equipment cubbies. I know what she did. Do you want to call the police?” I shook my head quietly. “Thank you, Coach. I’ll handle it my own way.” What good would the police do? She was John’s mother, and the system would view it as a domestic issue, resulting in a slap on the wrist. But I was done letting her walk all over us. On the drive home, John pressed his forehead against the passenger window, whispering softly, “Dad… does Mom hate me?” Looking at his small, bandaged foot, my throat tightened. “Mom is just lost, John. But I promise you, I will never leave your side.” As soon as we got home, I emailed a family lawyer, attaching the security footage of Candy slipping the glass into John’s shoe. The response came back within an hour: This is excellent evidence of maternal endangerment. We can use this to secure full custody with no visitation rights. Just as I went to tuck John in, my phone buzzed. It was a photo from Jared. It showed Candy with her arms around him and Milo, smiling warmly. My two favorite boys did so well today! Milo got the gold, and someone surprised us with a custom cake! A second later, the message was unsent, followed by a text: Sorry, Nolan! Sent that to the wrong chat by accident. Please don’t be mad! I took a deep, steadying breath and booked two one-way tickets to Port City for the day after tomorrow. This hollow, toxic marriage was officially over. 3 On our final weekend before leaving, I took John to the local amusement park to ride the giant Ferris wheel. He had been begging to go for months. Candy had promised him a trip in the spring, then postponed it to summer, and then autumn, before finally forgetting entirely. John had stopped asking, but I refused to let him leave this city with unfulfilled dreams. Standing in the queue under the massive wheel, John gripped my hand, his face glowing with excitement. “Dad, when we reach the very top, I’m going to make a huge wish!” But in an instant, his smile froze. A few yards away, Candy was carrying Milo, feeding him a stick of cotton candy. Jared was walking beside them, adjusting a toy crown on Milo’s head. Milo wrapped his arms around Candy’s neck, giggling. “Mommy, I want to ride that one next!” Candy laughed and nodded, but as she turned her head, her eyes locked onto mine. Realizing she’d been caught, she quickly set Milo down and walked toward us. John had gone completely quiet the second she appeared. He gave my sleeve a gentle tug. “Dad, let’s just go home.” Jared walked up with a pleasant smile. “Hey, John! Milo wants to ride the carousel. Why don’t you join him?” Milo scoffed, clinging to Candy’s coat. “I don’t want to ride with him, Mommy. His clothes look so cheap and dirty.” Jared made a half-hearted attempt to correct him. “Milo, be nice.” But Candy didn’t say a word to reprimand the boy. She just stood there, looking like a proud mother protecting her own. Disgusted, I turned to lead John away. But Jared let out a theatrical gasp. “Nolan, you… you didn’t follow us here, did you?” Candy’s face immediately darkened. “Nolan, seriously? I finally get one day off to spend with them, and you have to drag John out here just to ruin it?” I swallowed the hot anger rising in my throat. “Is this park registered in your name? I don’t need your permission to take my son out.” Jared’s eyes immediately filled with tears, his voice trembling. “Candy, it’s fine. It’s probably just a coincidence. I’m sorry for making a big deal out of it. Nolan has every right to be here. Milo and I will just leave so we don’t cause trouble for your family.” Candy grabbed his arm, stopping him, before turning on me with pure fury. “Are you happy now? Why do you always have to bully Jared?” Before I could even speak, Milo suddenly let out a piercing shriek and burst into tears. He pointed an accusing finger at John. “He pushed me! He hurt me!” John stood completely still, his hands at his sides, staring at Milo in utter confusion. Candy’s face twisted in disgust. She grabbed my wrist in a tight grip. “Is this how you raise him? To be a violent bully?” “Candy, open your eyes! John didn’t touch him!” Before I could finish my sentence, her hand whipped across my face in a stinging slap. The force of the blow sent me stumbling back against the metal railing. My cheek burned with pain, and I felt the metallic taste of blood in my mouth. John let out a sob, throwing his small arms around my leg. “Dad! I don’t want a mom anymore! Please, when can we leave?” I knelt down, pulling him tightly against my chest. “Soon, buddy. We’re leaving the day after tomorrow.” 4 Just as I reached out to wipe the tears from his cheeks, a blood-curdling scream echoed through the park. People began sprinting past us in terror, shouting, “He’s got a knife! Run!” Looking over the panicked crowd, I saw a woman with wild, bloodshot eyes, brandishing a large, blood-stained kitchen knife, charging directly toward our section of the path. I scooped John up and ran with the screaming crowd toward the exit. But as we neared a large concrete planter, someone slammed violently into my back. My knees buckled, and I went flying forward. I tried to push myself up, but a sharp, agonizing pain shot through my right ankle. John’s head had struck the sharp edge of the planter, and bright red blood began streaming down his forehead. The frantic footsteps of the knife-wielding attacker were closing in, she was less than twenty yards away. Just then, I saw Candy running toward the exit from an adjacent path. Desperate, I screamed with everything I had. “Candy! Help John! Please!” She paused for a fraction of a second, looking at us. But then she grabbed Jared’s hand and hoisted Milo into her arms, sprinting away without a backward glance. “Just hide John somewhere! I have to get them to safety first! I’ll come back for you!” A cold, crushing weight settled on my chest. The attacker was upon us, a horrific grin on her face as she raised the blade, aiming straight for my son’s chest. Summoning every ounce of strength left in my body, I threw myself over John, shielding his small body completely with my own. The blade ripped through my left sleeve, tearing open a deep gash in my forearm. Hot blood splattered across my skin. As she raised the knife for a second strike, a park security officer tackled her from the side, pinning her to the ground with a heavy shield. Three more guards rushed over, disarming her. The adrenaline faded, leaving me gasping for air as I looked down at my arm. Blood was pouring from the wound, dripping past my wrist. John was staring up at me, his eyes wide with pure terror, blood dripping from his hairline. I gently cupped his uninjured cheek. “I’ve got you, buddy. You’re safe.” After getting our wounds stitched and bandaged at the emergency room, I ordered a ride-share. As I carried John out through the hospital lobby, we ran right into Candy. She was holding a bag of medication, with Jared and Milo hovering close behind. She froze, her eyes dropping to the thick white bandages wrapped around my arm and John’s forehead. “Nolan… what happened? You’re hurt!” I didn’t answer. I kept walking, but she chased after me, reaching out to grab my shoulder. Just then, Jared called out from behind her, his voice whining. “Candy, Milo says his head hurts from the excitement. Can you carry him to the car?” She hesitated for a split second, then turned back to them. I climbed into the waiting car with John, shutting the door behind us. That was your very last chance, Candy. You chose them. And now, you will never have to choose again.

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1 My fingers were numb by the time Preston finally returned to the service station. Half an hour earlier, he’d claimed a stomach ache, so I’d dashed to the pharmacy. When I returned, the car was gone. Thirteen calls, zero answers. When he pulled up, his new intern Mona occupied my seat, wearing his wool coat and snuggled against my custom neck pillow. Preston exited, his first instinct to silence me. “Shh. Keep it down, she just fell asleep.” Mona stirred, offering an innocent smile. “Sorry, Claire. I get terrible motion sickness. Preston insisted I sit here. He said you wouldn’t mind.” I stared at the pillow he’d sourced specifically for my cervical spine issues. During the three-hour drive back, he fussed over her—was she cold, hungry, needing air? Meanwhile, I shivered in the back, gripped by abdominal pain that left cold sweat dripping down my spine. Later, while he showered, I photographed the designer lipstick she’d left behind and sent it to her. Since you love that seat so much, you can have his life too. I’m out. By the time Preston walked out of the bathroom, I had already gathered my pillows and moved into the study. The freezing wind from the service station had settled into my bones, and I couldn’t stop shivering. The bedroom door wasn’t fully closed. Before long, Preston’s soft, mumbled sleep-talk drifted down the hall. “Mona… sit up front… Claire won’t mind…” I clutched the edge of my pillow, my knuckles turning white. Mona. She had only been at his firm for three months, yet she was already occupying my seat, wearing his clothes, and using my things. Preston and I had been together for ten years. He used to tell me that the passenger seat would always be mine. Back when we were broke and he had just gotten his license, he had driven a beat-up old sedan with a broken air conditioner to pick me up. Despite the scorching heat, he had laid his own linen shirt over the passenger seat, flashing me a brilliant smile. “Claire, this spot is yours forever. No one else is allowed.” It turned out that forever had an expiration date. At five in the morning, the study door was thrown open. The harsh overhead light flared on, and Preston stood in the doorway, his expression thunderous as he clutched his phone. “Claire, what the hell is wrong with you? Why are you harassing Mona in the middle of the night?” I squinted against the light. “She certainly ran to you quickly.” “What do you mean by that?” Preston scoffed, crossing his arms. “She’s just a young girl, and you terrified her so badly she couldn’t sleep all night. It’s just a seat, Claire. Is it really worth this kind of drama?” “Just a seat,” I repeated slowly, letting out a bitter laugh. “If it’s just a seat, why didn’t you have her sit in the back?” He hesitated, his defensive posture slipping for a fraction of a second before he recovered. “She has motion sickness. You know that.” “I didn’t know that,” I said, looking him dead in the eye. “I only know that my boyfriend complained of a stomach ache, and when I went to get him medicine, he drove off without me.” Preston’s face stiffened. “I waited at that service station in the freezing wind for forty-seven minutes,” I continued. “I called you thirteen times. You claimed your phone was dead, but Mona’s social media story from that exact hour shows your screen lit up on the dashboard.” He looked away, his jaw tightening. “She was using my phone to take a video. I didn’t notice the calls.” “You didn’t notice my calls, and you didn’t notice me waiting in the cold,” I said quietly. “But you certainly noticed the exact moment she fell asleep, warning me to close the door quietly.” Preston’s irritation flared, his voice rising. “Claire, must you always be so dramatic?” “I am not being dramatic,” I replied. He seemed to lose the last of his patience, his tone turning cold and dismissive. “Mona is new to the project team, and the client relations are incredibly delicate. She’s young, and I’m just looking out for her. Why must you always jump to the dirtiest conclusions?” Looking out for her. I had looked out for him for ten years. When his stomach lining ruptured, I had carried him to the hospital on my back in the middle of the night. When his first startup failed, I drained my savings account, giving up the down payment on my dream home to cover his payroll. When his insomnia got so bad he couldn’t sleep, I spent months studying scent design just to formulate an herbal sachet that would soothe him. Later, when he complained that my long hours at the fragrance lab made the house feel cold and empty, I gave up a prestigious promotion in the city center to take a quiet administrative job close to home. And now, he was giving that care to someone else, all while accusing me of having a dirty mind. I turned over, facing the wall. “Go care for whoever you want.” Preston’s voice cut through the quiet room like a whip. “Can you stop playing the victim for once in your life? Just because your father ran off with a student and your mother tried to end her life, you think every man on earth is bound to betray you, don’t you?” The silence that followed was heavy and suffocating. I slowly opened my eyes, staring at the dark wallpaper. I was sixteen when my father walked out, taking every penny of our savings and leaving nothing but a divorce decree. My mother had dragged me to his university, waiting in the courtyard for a night and a day. When she finally drank that bottle of poison, it was our neighbor who kicked the door down to save her. After that, our relatives treated us like we were cursed. It was Preston’s mother who finally took me into their home. Preston was seventeen then. He had slipped a warm, roasted sweet potato into my frozen hands, whispering, “Claire, my home is your home now. I will never make you wait.” I had believed him. I had staked the best ten years of my life on that promise. And now, he was using my deepest, most agonizing trauma to shield another woman. Preston seemed to realize he had gone too far, his mouth opening slightly before he closed it, let out a frustrated sigh, and turned away. “I’m heading to the office. You need to calm down.” The heavy front door slammed shut, rattling the windows. I sat in the silent study, unable to move. My phone lit up. It was a message from Mona. Claire, did Preston yell at you? Please don’t be mad at him. He was just worried about me. A second later, another image arrived. Oh, by the way, I forgot to leave your neck pillow in the car. But Preston said you probably have plenty of them anyway. I stared at the glowing screen, the pain in my abdomen turning into a cold, hollow ache. I turned the phone over, leaving the messages unanswered. As the sun slowly rose outside the window, I found myself thinking of my mother sitting in that cold courtyard, waiting for a man who was never coming back. I had promised myself I would never become her. But I had been waiting in the exact same spot for ten years. I just hadn’t realized it. At nine in the morning, the property manager called. “Miss Lin, we noticed a new temporary access code was registered to your garage yesterday. Did you authorize this?” I stood on the balcony, looking down. Preston’s black SUV was just pulling into the driveway. The passenger window slid down, and Mona leaned her head out, waving cheerfully at the security guard. Around her slender wrist, she was wearing my delicate pearl bracelet. I hung up the phone. Ten minutes later, Preston stepped into the apartment, carrying a bag of breakfast. There was fresh soy milk, warm pastries, and a small box of the sweet plum cakes I used to love. He set them on the table, his voice softening. “I went too far this morning. I’m sorry. Eat something first; your stomach is terrible.” I stared at the plum cakes. He used to drive across the city every weekend just to buy them for me. But as the years went on, he became too busy. He forgot my favorite foods, and he forgot that I couldn’t drink black coffee on an empty stomach. Now, he was bringing them to me like a peace offering, or perhaps a form of charity. “Did you buy these for her too?” I asked quietly. Preston’s hands froze, and his expression instantly turned cold. “Claire, that’s enough.” I pulled a pale pink hair tie from my pocket and placed it on the table, followed by the designer lipstick. “What about these?” He glanced at them. “Just things she dropped in the car.” “Then why did the car’s air freshener change from cedarwood to sweet peach? How did the glitter from her socks end up on the passenger floor mat? Why is her lip balm in the center console? And why is her yoga mat in the trunk?” I paused, holding up the security log. “And this. Why does she have an access code to our private garage?” Preston’s face twisted with frustration, but there was no guilt in his eyes, only anger at being questioned. “She had to retrieve some urgent project files from the house while I was out. I gave her a temporary code.” “Temporary?” I let out a soft, mirthless laugh. “She posted a picture of herself in our walk-in closet, wearing my silk robe, with the caption: Channeling my inner elegant lady. Preston says it looks perfect on me.” Preston slammed his hand down on the table, rattling the plates. “Enough!” The hot soy milk spilled over the edge of the cup, splashing onto my hand. I winced, pulling my hand back as the heat stung my skin. He saw it, but he quickly averted his eyes. “Mona is young and naive; she just likes to take pictures. It’s not as deep as you’re making it out to be. Look at yourself, Claire. You’ve become obsessed, tracking my every move like a paranoid warden.” I looked up at him. “And how am I supposed to behave?” He let out a cold laugh. “Like a normal person. Look at Mona: she’s young, sharp, and ambitious. She can draft a perfect proposal, handle difficult clients, and hold her own at business dinners. What about you? You’ve been an administrator for seven years, with no career growth and no ambition. Aside from cooking, cleaning, and organizing the house, what do you actually do?” He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “Claire, you’ve turned into a complete bore.” A bore. My eyes stung, but I refused to let the tears fall. Seven years ago, I had received a prestigious offer from a major fragrance laboratory in the south. But that was the year Preston’s startup was failing, and he was hospitalized with a bleeding ulcer. He had clutched my hand from his hospital bed, begging me, “Claire, don’t leave. I need to know you’re here when I come home.” So, I stayed. I took a simple, quiet administrative job with no overtime so I could care for him, study his medications, and prepare warm meals for him every night. He had held me close then, calling me his sanctuary. But now that the storm had passed and his company was successful, he found his sanctuary boring. I stood up, deleting the access log from my phone. Preston frowned. “What are you doing now?” I looked at him, my voice entirely flat. “Since she’s so perfect, you should be with her. Let’s break up.” Preston’s first reaction wasn’t panic; it was a dismissive, arrogant smirk. “Are we doing this again, Claire?” He leaned back, looking entirely unbothered. “Whenever we fight, you just go stay at my mother’s house for a few days. How long do you want me to chase you this time? A day? A week?” I didn’t answer. “I have a dinner with a major client tonight, so don’t wait up,” he said, checking his watch. “And remember, Mona’s father is the key decision-maker for our upcoming merger. Don’t make trouble for her and ruin my business.” After the door closed, I slowly cleared the table, throwing every bit of the untouched breakfast into the trash. It turned out she wasn’t just naive; she was useful. And I was not. My phone buzzed again, this time with a short video from Mona. In the video, Preston was sitting at the head of a banquet table, surrounded by business partners. Someone laughed, clinking their glass. “Preston, what’s the plan with the girl at home? It’s been ten years; aren’t you going to marry her?” Preston took a sip of his wine, his expression entirely relaxed. “She’s not going anywhere.” Another man leaned in. “What about Miss Mona here? She’s already got the passenger seat; is she getting the ring next?” Mona shifted closer to him, her voice sweet and teasing. “Preston, is that seat mine forever?” Preston didn’t pull away. He simply smiled, murmuring, “Yes, it’s yours.” The video ended, followed by a final text from Mona. Claire, you planted the tree, but I’m the one enjoying the shade. Thanks for training him so well for me. I stared at the screen, a strange, hollow clarity settling over me. Preston didn’t cross those boundaries by accident; he simply believed I would never leave. I dialed my supervisor’s number. “Hi, Helen. I’d like to submit my resignation.” Helen was silent for a moment. “Claire, are you sure? You’ve been so steady here. The head office’s fragrance division actually asked about you last month, wondering if you’d be interested in returning to the creative line.” My throat tightened. “Yes, Helen. I’m sure.” “Alright,” Helen sighed gently. “I won’t process the paperwork just yet. I’ll hold your file for a couple of days. We all need to leave ourselves a way out.” After hanging up, I pulled my suitcase from the closet. As I unzipped it, a small velvet box rolled out. I opened it, expecting jewelry, but found a pair of matching leather keychains. The pink one was engraved with: Mona’s Spot. The black one was engraved with: Preston. At the bottom of the box was a sticky note: Once I have the seat, the man is next. I took a photo and sent it to Preston. She’s certainly eager to make it official. He didn’t reply. Instead, Mona sent me a screenshot of a digital invitation. It was a formal, elegant design: Preston & Mona’s Engagement Preview. Location: The Grand Plaza. Time: Tonight at 8:00 PM. Below it was the seating chart. Near the main table, there was a single, isolated seat labeled: Claire, Observer. Then, a text from Preston arrived. Come to the Grand Plaza tonight. I’ll explain. I stared at the message, realizing I no longer cared whether he loved me or not. I only wanted to know if, in the process of turning our ten years into a complete joke, he had ever felt a single shred of regret. At eight that evening, I walked into the Grand Plaza. I wasn’t there for an explanation; I was there to close the book. The venue was brilliantly lit, the rain having just stopped outside. As I approached the private dining suite, the doors were slightly ajar, and the sounds of laughter drifted out. “Preston, now that the preview is set, when do we get the actual wedding invitations?” Mona’s voice was sweet as honey. “That depends on when Preston decides to make me permanent.” “Is there really any difference at this point?” someone joked. I pushed the door open, and the laughter died down instantly. Preston sat at the head of the table, his jacket draped over his chair, a cigarette smoldering between his fingers. He frowned the moment he saw me. “Why didn’t you knock?” I held up my phone, displaying the invitation and the video. “Explain.” Mona stood up immediately, her eyes turning watery. “Claire, please don’t misunderstand. The team made that seating chart as a joke; I had no idea.” I looked at her. “Was the video a joke too?” Her face paled, but she quickly managed to squeeze out a few tears. “I was just trying to keep the mood light. Why do you always have to make everything so difficult, Claire?” Preston stubbed out his cigarette, his voice flat. “Claire, don’t make a scene here.” I let out a soft laugh. “You invited me here for an explanation, didn’t you?” He remained silent. Mona stepped forward, grabbing my arm. “Let’s talk outside, Claire. Don’t embarrass Preston in front of his partners.” Her manicured fingers dug sharply into my wrist. The corridor outside was deserted and quiet. I silently tapped the record button on my phone, keeping it at my side. The moment the doors closed behind us, the tears vanished from Mona’s face, replaced by a cold, triumphant smirk. “I’m surprised you actually showed up.” “Did you put those keychains in my suitcase?” I asked. “Of course,” she said, crossing her arms. “How else were you going to realize it’s time for you to pack up and leave?” I turned to walk back to the room, but she stepped into my path, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “Claire, stop clinging to your ten-year history. If he wanted to marry you, he wouldn’t have kept you waiting for ten years, would he?” I paused, and her smirk widened. “The passenger seat belongs to the girl who can keep things fresh. You’ve been there too long; it’s time to step aside.” She leaned closer, her eyes flashing with malice. “And honestly, didn’t your mother spend her whole life waiting for a man, only to end up discarded anyway? Don’t be like her, Claire. It’s pathetic.” Slap! My hand connected sharply with her cheek, sending her head snapping to the side. She froze in shock for a second, then let out a piercing shriek. The suite doors flew open, and Preston rushed out, his expression dark with anger. Mona immediately collapsed against him, sobbing hysterically. “Preston, I was just trying to apologize to her, and she suddenly hit me…” Before I could speak, Mona grabbed my wrist, pulling me toward the elevator that led to the underground garage. “You said I took your things! I’ll give them back to you right now! Let’s go to the car!” She was surprisingly strong, dragging me toward the elevator doors before I could shake her off. Preston followed close behind, his voice tight with suppressed fury. “Claire, have you completely lost your mind?” We descended into the concrete garage in silence. Preston’s black SUV sat in its reserved space, the passenger door wide open, with Mona’s designer handbag resting on the leather seat. As we approached, the car’s automated system activated, and a sweet, recorded voice played through the speakers. It was no longer my voice saying, Preston, welcome home. Instead, Mona’s voice chimed cheerfully, Preston, have a wonderful day! I stood there, a sudden, cold laughter bubbling up in my chest. It wasn’t just the passenger seat. He had allowed her to systematically erase every trace of my existence from his life. My old jade pendant, which I had bought at a temple to keep him safe, was lying on the dirty floor mat under the passenger seat, its silk cord snapped in two. Mona knelt down to retrieve it, holding it up with a smug smile. “This old thing is so tacky. I was planning on buying him a designer replacement anyway.” I reached out to take it from her. But the moment my hand closed around it, she yanked her hand back, deliberately losing her balance and falling backward. As she fell, she gave me a sharp, sudden shove. I stumbled back, my bare arm colliding with the hot, exposed exhaust pipe of a parked motorcycle nearby. A sickening sizzle echoed in the quiet garage, followed by an agonizing flash of pain that made my vision blur. Preston didn’t even look at me. He immediately threw himself onto the concrete, pulling Mona into his arms, his voice shaking with concern. “Mona, are you alright?” Mona sobbed, shaking her head. “I’m okay… Claire didn’t mean to do it. She was just angry about the pendant.” Preston looked up at me, his eyes colder than the winter wind. “Claire, when did you become so vicious? Is a cheap piece of jade really worth hurting someone over?” I clutched my burning arm, the skin already blistering, my entire body shaking with pain. “She spoke about my mother,” I whispered. Preston let out an impatient scoff. “And was she wrong? Your mother spent her life waiting for a man who didn’t want her, and you’re doing the exact same thing. What’s the difference?” The concrete garage seemed to spin around me, the bright fluorescent lights blindingly white. I stared at him, the man who had sat with me in the dark on every anniversary of my mother’s death, whispering that she was the victim of a cruel, unfaithful man. And now, he was using that same tragedy to justify my humiliation. I couldn’t make a single sound. Preston noticed my pale face and finally saw the raw, blistered skin on my arm. He frowned slightly. “What happened to your arm?” Before I could answer, Mona let out a soft whimper. “Preston, my ankle… I think it’s broken. It hurts so much…” His attention snapped right back to her. He scooped her into his arms, carrying her toward the car, casting a final, indifferent glance over his shoulder. “Go get your arm cleaned up at the clinic. Once you’re done, apologize to Mona, and we’ll put this behind us.” I stood alone in the empty garage, the scent of sweet peach lingering in the cold air. I bent down, picking up the broken jade pendant from the concrete, its surface covered in dirt, much like the last ten years of my life. I pulled out my phone and stopped the recording. I had given him one last chance to be a decent human being, and he had thrown it away.

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1 “Yesterday I deliberately spilled coffee all over her. She didn’t even dare make a sound, hahaha.” Laughter drifted out of the break room. They didn’t bother lowering their voices. I sat at my desk and heard every word clearly. “You bully her like this, aren’t you afraid she’ll complain about you in Vice President Hart’s bed tonight?” “I just think she’s dirty.” I lowered my head and continued processing a customer’s transaction. The teller window couldn’t be left unattended, so they deliberately refused to come switch shifts with me. And I said nothing. I sat in front of the computer for the entire day. Then, on the evaluation form, I drew a huge zero. They thought I was guilty. Please. The workload of a “bank mystery auditor” was very heavy these days. Who should I optimize first? … A month ago, I had been transferred to this bank branch. Before the previous employee had even handed over the work to me, Branch Manager Derek Shaw pushed me straight onto the teller counter. My job was to help customers handle transactions. I was thrown into the deep end. A customer wanted to transfer money to his son for medical treatment, so I asked Derek about the process. His answer was: “You’ll see the page when you open the computer.” There were so many systems on the computer. Which interface? Which button for authorization? Fortunately, I had been trained before, so I managed to figure it out myself. But because it took too long, the customer filed a complaint and I received a warning. Derek’s feedback remained lukewarm. “HR told me you’re highly educated. I thought you’d pick things up quickly.” I didn’t argue. I simply wrote on the evaluation form: Manager does not understand onboarding procedures. Serious dereliction of duty. Minus 20 points. After that, I learned. Since leadership couldn’t be relied on, I would ask my coworkers for help and familiarize myself with the work as quickly as possible. So at noon, I ordered fifteen cups of milk tea. [Treating everyone to milk tea!] Silence. No one responded. A woman from admin walked over with her lunch bowl, speaking through a mouthful of food, her contempt obvious. “Little girl, put your mind on work. Stop playing these weird social games.” I ignored her. For the entire afternoon, I watched the milk tea sitting on the small round table. My coworkers passed by again and again. Not one of them reached for a cup. Some even ordered their own milk tea later. When I saw the packaging, I noticed it was the exact same brand I had bought. … By eight that evening, all the cups had swollen. I threw them into the trash one by one. Fifteen cups of milk tea. Not a single one missing. So I wrote on the evaluation form again: Collective cold violence against a new employee. Minus 10 points. After everyone left, I compared the training files and carefully figured out the business process. I filled page after page of notes. The next morning, during the staff meeting, Derek called me out by name and scolded me. He said I had violated the employee handbook. “Tessa Lane, why did you stay at the teller counter until midnight yesterday?” “What if a customer’s money went missing? What if documents were lost? Could you take responsibility?” My tone was calm. “Customer documents are uploaded during processing. The electronic copies are permanently saved. There is no possibility of losing them.” “As for money, the armored truck collects large cash amounts every day. The cash left inside the branch never exceeds one hundred dollars.” “Manager Shaw, you should know that better than anyone, right?” Derek was left speechless. So he vented his anger on everyone else. “You’re right. Everyone should learn from Tessa. From now on, everyone will voluntarily extend overtime by two hours.” After the meeting, everyone returned to their stations. I was maliciously knocked to the ground by a male coworker. “You’re a damn curse.” “You just cost me two hours of my part-time job after work.” “Two hours, gone for nothing.” When the admin woman passed by, she deliberately stepped on my hand. “Oh! Didn’t see you there.” A coworker pushed her lightly. “Hurry up. Careful she tries to scam you.” The others chimed in. “Why are you still lying on the floor? Waiting for someone to help you up?” Only after they left did the pain in my body ease a little. I shook out the numbness in my arm. Then I wrote on the evaluation form: Manager abuses power for personal revenge, maliciously extends employee overtime without pay. Minus 30 points. Subordinate employees intentionally injure others. Severe misconduct. Minus 10 points. 2 After that, their hostility toward me grew even worse. At noon, everyone usually ate in shifts. That way, someone was always at the counter to serve customers. When it was my turn to eat, they tacitly refused to come relieve me. I didn’t argue. I simply kept doing the work in front of me. Just then, a father and son came in. Their old family home had recently been demolished, and they had received a compensation payment of six million dollars. From their conversation, I noticed the son kept reminding the elderly man not to transfer money casually to strangers. Based on my industry experience, I immediately explained some of the latest scams to the old man. His son sensed my good intentions and voluntarily told me how his father had almost been scammed before. I naturally recommended that they consider a fixed-term deposit. First, the money in a term deposit could not be withdrawn casually, which would protect the funds. Second, it could provide security for the future. The father and son nodded repeatedly. A six-million-dollar, three-year fixed deposit order was completed. I finished three months of performance targets in one day. Afterward, I reported the situation to Derek. I received no reply. The next day, however, the person who received the performance bonus was Derek. The branch president specifically tagged Derek in the group chat. [According to customer feedback, your service was thoughtful, and you recommended products from the customer’s perspective.] [Headquarters is awarding you a 10g gold pendant.] [@everyone] [All of you should learn from Manager Shaw. Especially new employees. Being complained about on your first day is usually an attitude problem.] The branch president did not name anyone. But everyone knew that in the past month, I was the only new employee who had received a complaint. Below the message came a flood of likes and celebration emojis. “Manager Shaw is amazing.” “Headquarters gave gold. That’s usually only for annual outstanding employees.” “We’ll all get bonuses this month by following Manager Shaw.” The monthly performance poster came out. Derek’s name was bold and enlarged. Of course, my name was on it too. Only in another column: pending dismissal. I took out the evaluation form. Superior steals employee credit. Minus 30 points. This time, I not only wrote down the reason, but also privately contacted the father and son and asked them to write a statement for me. I also pulled the surveillance footage from that day. To make sure no one could turn black into white. Soon, Derek called me into his office. “Tessa, you’ve been here… almost a month, right?” “Yes.” “You saw your name on the pending dismissal list, didn’t you?” “Yes.” “Leadership says you’re not putting in effort. Poor performance is one thing, but you got into conflict with a customer on your first day.” His face was cold, his tone full of contempt. “You’re firing me?” He shook his head and smiled. Then he took out a voluntary resignation form. “To be honest, there’s no such thing as a pending dismissal list. If your name is on it, you’re definitely being fired.” “Instead of leaving in disgrace later, you might as well sign now and walk away.” My tone stayed calm. “Then we’ll talk when headquarters officially fires me.” With that, I stood and left. Derek slammed the desk in anger. “Don’t reject kindness when it’s offered.” “If you leave now, I can still write you a recommendation letter. Otherwise, I can make sure you never work in this industry again.” I did not stop walking. I turned and returned to my station. Looking at the evaluation form, which was gradually being drained of points, I realized the task would be completed early this time. Ever since my name appeared on the pending dismissal list, my coworkers bullied me even more openly. As long as I sat at the teller counter, no one came to relieve me for a break. To withstand a full day of work, I ate three bowls of rice in the morning. If I got hungry, I drank meal replacement powder. All to keep myself full. After eating their lunches, my coworkers would come pick their teeth in front of me with smiles. “Tessa, don’t work so hard. Leave us older ladies a way to survive.” The others laughed along. “Wendy, what do you know?” “Young girls these days like dieting. They want to keep their figures.” Listening to their teasing, I still said nothing. While they were all out eating lunch, I quietly logged into the system backend. In the past, every time I logged in, a user code-named C would kick me out. Later, I discovered that everyone in the branch could enter. Everyone except me. Just like headquarters could never understand why every new employee here failed to last three months. Upper management had wanted to reshuffle this branch’s personnel. But every time they tried to transfer an employee away, this branch would erupt into chaos. Fortunately, I finally found some clues in the system. But just then, my account was forcibly logged out. Then I received a termination notice from HR. [Ms. Tessa Lane, after comprehensive evaluation, you have been deemed unqualified for your position. The company hereby terminates your employment.] 3 I shut the computer and went straight to HR. When HR Manager Linda Mason saw me, she didn’t seem surprised. “I sent you the handover form. Fill it out as required and you can leave.” My face was cold. “If you want to fire me, you should at least give me a reason.” “What standards are you using for this so-called comprehensive evaluation?” Linda smiled. “Have a seat.” She flipped through my file and looked increasingly confident. “You’ve been at the branch for a full month.” “That’s not a short time, but your performance is still zero.” I made a pause gesture. “Wrong. My performance is six million. Twenty times higher than the thirty-thousand target you set.” Linda sneered. “Six million? That was Derek Shaw’s performance.” “I have evidence.” I showed her the surveillance video from that day. Then I took out the handwritten statements from the father and son. She immediately stopped talking. “We’ll need to verify this.” “Besides, how do you explain being complained about by a customer on your very first day?” I calmly brought out the next piece of evidence. I played a video. “You’ll see the page when you open the computer.” The moment Derek’s voice came out, Linda’s expression changed. “You can see it clearly in the video. Throughout the process, he did not provide me with any help.” “Instead, after receiving no support, I proactively found a solution myself.” “The person who should leave isn’t me, is it?” For a moment, Linda was speechless. “Fine. If there’s nothing else, I’m going back to work.” Just as I walked out, she called me back. “Wait. At the end of the day, you just want money, don’t you?” “Our branch isn’t stingy. Submit a voluntary resignation today, and I’ll give you two months of compensation. How about that?” I smiled. Two months. No wonder there were so many strange losses in the monthly accounts. I tested her. “Not enough. I want six months.” Linda panicked. “You’re young and naive. You don’t know how hard society is. I advise you to take the money and leave.” “If you offend Manager Shaw, nothing good will come of it.” I couldn’t be bothered with her and turned to leave. Then I wrote on the evaluation form: HR ignores labor laws and mishandles bank property at will. Final score: zero. Very soon, Linda received a call. Headquarters had notified her of her dismissal. I heard the scolding on the other end was especially ugly. Linda cried in her office for a long time and couldn’t recover. I had just returned to my desk when Derek came over. “Quite a powerful background you have. A few words from you and Linda is gone.” “Tell me honestly. What’s your relationship with Vice President Hart?” I looked up. Everyone was secretly laughing while holding their phones. “Do you even need to ask? Vice President Hart has a wife and kids. What else could she be except his mistress?” “No wonder. I was wondering how an intern had so much money to buy us milk tea.” “Listen to me, girl. Work honestly. Don’t always think about taking shortcuts and using milk tea to suck up to people.” I immediately opened RedNote. Only then did I discover most of the posts were aimed at me. [I saw that mistress having dinner with Vice President Hart last time. The next day, she started working at their branch.] [More than dinner. She goes to Vice President Hart’s house every few days.] [Each time she stays two or three hours. Always at night. Anyone with eyes knows what they’re doing.] Spreading sexual rumors was one thing. Some of them had directly doxxed me. My schools, classes, from elementary school to university, had all been dug up. Even the address of my hometown had been exposed. People online even threatened to form a group to beat me. I was furious. I immediately called Vice President Hart. “You’d better contact the posters today, make them delete everything, and apologize to me. Otherwise, I’m leaving right now.” “Don’t, don’t… I’m busy…” Before he could finish, I hung up first. Derek whispered by my ear. “Well, well. Didn’t expect Vice President Hart to spoil you this much.” “Do you know what I just did? I sent the posts to his wife.” “She’s already on her way here.” Everyone was waiting to watch the show. They were waiting for Vice President Hart’s wife to tear me apart as the mistress. The happier they laughed now, the worse they would die later. A branch rating of zero meant direct closure. Headquarters had a department specifically created to inspect whether employees were treating customers sincerely. So auditors would disguise themselves as customers and conduct evaluations. Unfortunately, where there were policies, there were countermeasures. This branch was famously flooded with complaints. But every time our colleagues came to inspect, the branch always performed perfectly. Headquarters had no way to punish them. Even stranger, almost no new employee here lasted three months. So Vice President Hart asked me to step in. From pretending to be a customer to pretending to be an employee. He asked me to investigate what was really going on. And I was the “bank mystery auditor” they kept talking about. Now I didn’t need to struggle over who to fire first. Of course everyone could leave together.

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1 During my third year with Nolan, a gray-covered playlist suddenly popped up on my Spotify account. The creation date was marked ten years in the future. Thinking it was just a weird app glitch, I clicked on it. What came through the speakers wasn’t music. It was the sound of my own weeping. “Nolan, please, just look at me. I’m begging you…” “I gave my kidney to your mother. I quit my career to serve your family hand and foot. Ann hasn’t lifted a finger, so why did you choose her over me?” Immediately after, an unfamiliar woman’s voice chimed in. She sounded lazy, dripping with amusement. “Sister, does he really need a reason? Look at yourself. You’re a washed-up, miserable housewife. If I were Nolan, I’d be disgusted by you too.” Nolan’s voice finally came through. It was chillingly calm, as if he were discussing the weather. “Just sign the papers, Cindy. You walk away with nothing. Let’s not make this ugly.” Then came a long, suffocating silence. Followed by the automated recording of a 911 dispatch call. The operator kept repeating, “Hello? 911, what is your emergency? Hello?” No one answered. At the very bottom of the playlist description, written in a font so small it was almost invisible, was a single line of text: The wedding ring he bought her was paid for with the compensation money from your extracted kidney. Right as I locked my phone screen, a text from Nolan popped up. “Sweetheart, come with me to my mom’s house tomorrow. Her kidney issues are flaring up again. She wants to talk to you about something important.” I stared at the glowing screen and took a screenshot of the message. Whatever they wanted to “talk” about tomorrow, I already knew the punchline. … I kept staring at the screenshot, the icy chill of that bizarre audio recording still clinging to my fingertips. Ten years from now, I would die alone, clutching a phone connected to a silent 911 operator. But right now, the nightmare was only just beginning. I typed a simple “Okay” and spent the rest of the night staring into the darkness. The next morning, I pushed open the front door of the Davis family home. The smell of home-cooked food hit me instantly, but underneath it was a cloying, heavy scent of jasmine perfume. “Cindy! You made it.” A lazy, overly sweet voice drifted from the hallway. Ann strolled out of the kitchen wearing the silk apron that belonged to me, carrying a plate of sweet and sour ribs. She smiled radiantly, acting as if she were the lady of the house. “Nolan is in the study helping Auntie look for her meds. Wash your hands, we’re about to eat.” Watching the smug curve of her lips, my mind instantly overlaid her voice with the one from the recording—the woman who had mocked me as a “washed-up housewife.” That same heavy jasmine perfume had lingered on Nolan’s coat just last week. When I confronted him, he swore that a clumsy new intern had bumped into him at a company dinner. Now I knew that “intern” was Ann, the girl he had grown up with, his sweet little “honorary sister.” I ignored her pathetic attempt to play hostess and walked straight into the living room without taking off my shoes. Mrs. Davis was slumped on the sofa, clutching a medical report. She did look genuinely pale and sickly. Nolan walked out of the study holding a glass of warm water. When he saw me, his face lit up, and he hurried over to wrap his arm around my shoulders. “Sweetheart, thanks for coming over on a weekend.” His voice was so warm. The heat from his palm bled through the fabric of my blouse. Usually, I would have leaned into his embrace. But today, my stomach violently churned. I shifted my weight, subtly slipping out of his grip, and sat down on the single armchair. “How is your mom feeling? What did the doctors say?” Hearing my question, Mrs. Davis’s eyes instantly filled with tears. She pulled out a tissue and began dabbing at her eyes. “The doctor said conservative treatments aren’t working anymore. I absolutely need a kidney transplant.” Nolan let out a heavy sigh, sitting down next to her and holding her hand. “But finding a donor organ is nearly impossible. The national waitlist is years long, and my mom’s body simply can’t hold out that long.” Right on cue, Ann walked into the living room, placing the plate of ribs on the coffee table. Her voice cracked with manufactured grief. “If only my blood type was a match! I would gladly give my life for Auntie. But I’m Type B, and she’s Type O.” She turned her head, locking her gaze dead onto me. “Cindy, didn’t you say you were Type O?” The air in the living room suddenly froze. Mrs. Davis stopped sobbing. Nolan snapped his head up, staring at me with burning intensity. Three pairs of eyes. Three expectant faces. All waiting for me to throw myself into their sacrificial meat grinder. I picked up a glass of water from the table, my thumb casually tracing the warm rim. “Yeah. I’m Type O.” Nolan’s eyes lit up like fireworks. His tone shifted, becoming carefully, calculatingly gentle. “Sweetheart, I know this is an insane thing to ask, but… could you go to the hospital and get tested to see if you’re a match?” He swallowed hard, laying it on thick. “If you’re a match, I swear to God I will treat you like an absolute queen for the rest of our lives. I’ll do all the chores, I’ll give you every cent of my paycheck. Please.” I looked at his devoted, desperate face, while the echo of his cold, future voice—”walk away with nothing”—rang endlessly in my ears. I swallowed the bitter bile rising in my throat and set the glass down. “Sure. I’ll take a sick day tomorrow and go get tested.” Mrs. Davis immediately clasped her hands together in prayer, praising God and calling me the best future daughter-in-law in the world. Standing off to the side, Ann smirked. “Wow, Cindy, you’re so brave. I could never let someone slice me open with a scalpel.” I pulled my hand out of Mrs. Davis’s grasp and looked directly at Nolan. “But Nolan, a kidney transplant is a major surgery. The post-op recovery requires long-term, round-the-clock care.” “My current project at work is in a critical phase. I won’t be able to take months off to nurse her.” Nolan didn’t hesitate for a single second. “Your health and my mom’s life are way more important than some job! If you’re a match, just quit your job. I make enough to support us both.” “Besides, staying home to take care of my mom is a great way to prep for our married life together.” I stared at him and let out a soft, amused breath. “And what if I’m not a match?” Nolan flinched, clearly not expecting the question. “Whether you match or not, I’m going to take care of you for the rest of your life.” I stood up and grabbed my purse. “Don’t worry about it. I have some emails to catch up on. I’m heading back to the office.” Nolan scrambled up to walk me out, but I shut him down, saying I had already called an Uber. As I closed the car door, I glanced up. Standing in the living room window, Ann lifted her chin and shot me a deeply arrogant, victorious smirk. 2 Mercy General Hospital. I sat on a hard plastic chair with my lab slip, waiting for my blood draw. Nolan had promised to come with me, but half an hour ago he texted saying an “emergency morning meeting” had popped up at work. I texted back “No worries,” and locked my phone. “Number thirty-five. Cindy.” The nurse at the triage desk called my name. I stood up and walked over. The phlebotomist was quick and efficient. As the needle pierced my vein, I barely winced. “Miss, your boyfriend didn’t come with you today?” The nurse asked casually while pressing a cotton swab over the puncture site. I looked up. “You remember him?” She smiled, dropping the vials of blood into a rack. “Yeah, of course. Didn’t he come with you for your physical a few months ago?” “Actually, he was just here last week. He brought a younger girl in to do a kidney donor match test. She was Type O, too.” She leaned in, lowering her voice, a mix of juicy gossip and pity in her eyes. “That poor girl was terrified of needles. She cried her eyes out over a simple blood draw. Your boyfriend was babying her the whole time, hugging her, stroking her hair… It was hard to forget.” My fingers tightened violently over the cotton swab. My knuckles turned stark white. “That girl… did she have long hair, a beauty mark near her mouth, and smell like heavy jasmine perfume?” The nurse nodded, looking a little surprised. “Yeah, exactly! Is she your little sister or something?” I forced my facial muscles into a stiff, dead smile. “Something like that. She’s his honorary little sister.” Leaving the lab, I didn’t head for the exit. I walked straight up to the Nephrology Department and found the attending physician. Dr. Chen was a man in his late fifties. When I knocked and entered, he was updating a patient chart. “Dr. Chen? I’m Nolan’s fiancée. I wanted to ask about Mrs. Davis’s condition.” He looked up over the rim of his glasses. “Ah, Cindy, right? Did you get your blood drawn for the matching process?” “Just finished. Actually, I wanted to ask—has anyone else come in recently to see if they were a donor match?” Dr. Chen clicked through his computer records. “Yes, a relative named Ann got tested last week. Her results came back two days ago.” I stared dead into his eyes. “Was she a match?” He nodded, his tone strictly professional. “Her markers were highly compatible. She is a virtually perfect donor. However, she explicitly stated she was unwilling to donate, and we obviously cannot force her.” A wave of surreal, freezing horror washed over me, chilling me to the bone. Ann wasn’t just Type O blood. She was already a confirmed match. But yesterday, sitting in that living room, she had looked me dead in the eye and lied, claiming she was Type B and would “give her life” if she could. And Nolan… Nolan had held her hand while she got her blood drawn. He knew the results. Yet he sat there and watched her put on an Oscar-worthy performance to gaslight me. Then he had the nerve to use emotional blackmail to drag me to this hospital. They had it all mapped out. Ann’s body was too precious to scar, but I was just a walking, talking organ farm ready to be harvested. I walked out of Dr. Chen’s office and dialed Nolan’s number. It rang for a long time before he finally answered. In the background, I could hear the faint sound of running water. “Sweetheart, what’s up? Are you done with the test?” His voice was perfectly warm, laced with the raspy edge of someone who had just woken up. Listening to the running water, the temperature in my eyes dropped to absolute zero. “Where are you?” “At the office. I just got out of that brutal meeting, splashing some water on my face in the restroom.” Through the receiver, I heard an incredibly faint, soft, nasal woman’s voice. “Nolan… where did you put my bra?” The call disconnected instantly. I stood by the ventilation window in the hospital corridor, staring down at the endless stream of traffic, fighting back the urge to violently vomit. I finally understood why ten-years-in-the-future me had ended up dead on the floor. I had severely underestimated the depths of human depravity, and I had grossly overestimated Nolan’s humanity. Ten minutes later, Nolan called back. “Sweetheart, I am so sorry. My phone battery completely died. Did the blood work go okay? What did the doctor say?” His performance was utterly flawless. Not a single crack in his armor. I looked at my own pale reflection in the glass window and kept my voice perfectly flat. “It went fine. They said the results will take a few days.” “Thank you so much, sweetheart. I have to work late tonight, so don’t wait up for me. Get some sleep.” I hung up the phone and immediately called an Uber straight to Nolan’s office. The receptionist recognized me. She opened her mouth to say hello, but I put a finger to my lips, silencing her. I walked quietly to Nolan’s private office. The door wasn’t completely shut. A sliver of space remained. Ann was sitting on Nolan’s mahogany desk, swinging her bare legs, holding a cup of coffee. “Nolan, you seriously made her go do the match test?” Nolan leaned back in his leather executive chair, reaching out to pinch her cheek. “What was I supposed to do? Let them cut you open? You’re terrified of needles, baby. I’d never let them hurt you.” Ann giggled, a sharp, grating sound. “But what if she’s a match? Are you really going to make her give up a kidney? Won’t she throw a fit?” Nolan let out a condescending sneer. “She’s obsessed with me. I feed her a few romantic lines and she practically kisses my feet.” “Once they take her kidney, she’ll be too weak to work. She’ll be trapped at home, totally dependent on my paycheck. At that point, I own her.” I pulled out my phone, hit the voice memo app, and recorded every single disgusting word. When I had enough, I turned around and walked out of the building like a ghost. The lawyer handling my case was Gavin, a senior from my college who specialized in high-stakes corporate and marital asset litigation. I sent him the audio file along with six months of Nolan’s bank statements. “Gavin, I’m fairly certain he’s siphoning off our joint assets.” Gavin pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, tapping a pen against several massive withdrawals. “Your instincts are spot on. These transfers were flagged as ‘business investments,’ but the ultimate shell account they land in belongs to a woman named Ann.” He looked up at me, his expression turning grim. “Also, I pulled his credit history. Last month, he dropped a massive deposit at Cartier for a three-carat diamond ring. Paid in full.” I froze. A three-carat ring. Nolan had never even officially proposed to me. For three years, he fed me the same garbage excuse—his career wasn’t stable enough, he wanted to give me a perfect wedding, we needed to wait. “Who was the ring shipped to?” Gavin slid a printed invoice across the desk. Printed crystal clear at the top was a single name: Ann. I stared at the paper, suddenly overwhelmed by an intense wave of pity for the version of me from the future. He used the payout money from my harvested kidney to buy her a wedding ring. I didn’t even need to wait for the future. The betrayal was happening right now. “Cindy, you two aren’t legally married yet. But that media firm you built together? You provided seventy percent of the startup capital, but he’s listed as the sole legal CEO.” Gavin tapped the desk with a heavy rhythm. “He’s clearly setting up a hostile freeze-out. He wants to drain your accounts, take your company, and apparently, harvest your organs before he tosses you to the curb.” I took a deep breath, gathering the explosive documents and shoving them into my designer bag. “I understand. Gavin, draft up an aggressive equity clawback agreement for the company, and prep the demand letters for every single cent he embezzled.” “When the time is right, I’m going to rip it all out of his throat with interest.” By the time I left the law firm, the city was dark. I went back to the luxury apartment I shared with Nolan. I turned on the lights and stared at the sickening domesticity of it all. The matching couples’ slippers in the entryway. The framed photos on the wall. The succulents he supposedly planted just for me on the balcony. Every single object was screaming at me, mocking my absolute stupidity. I walked into the master bedroom, knelt down, and pulled out the hidden floor safe where we kept our emergency joint funds. The passcode was my birthday. I punched in the numbers. Click. The heavy steel door swung open. It was completely empty. The three hundred thousand dollars in high-yield bonds we had saved up? Gone. A solid gold heirloom necklace my late mother had left me? Gone. I calmly shut the safe, snapped a picture of the empty interior, and texted it to Gavin as supplemental evidence. Just as the text went through, the front door unlocked. Nolan walked in, holding a brown paper bag from my favorite dumpling spot downtown. “Sweetheart, I’m home. God, today was a nightmare. I was grinding at the office all night. Look, I brought your favorites.” He walked over, his face plastered with fake exhaustion, and leaned in to kiss me. I tilted my head, letting his lips graze the air past my cheek. “What’s wrong? Are you stressed about the test? Talk to me.” Completely oblivious to the radioactive anger radiating off me, he set the food on the dining table and wrapped his arms around my waist from behind. “My mom actually called me today. She said if you really are a match, we’re going to buy you the best post-op care money can buy.” He rested his chin on my shoulder, his voice as soft as poisoned honey. “Hey, sweetheart… if the test is a match, why don’t you sign over your equity shares in the media firm to me? You’ll need to stay home and rest, and I don’t want you stressing over corporate drama. I’ll take care of the business. You just take care of yourself.” I stared at our reflection in the dark glass of the living room window. “Sign them over to you? We built that company together.” Nolan let out a soft, dismissive chuckle, sounding totally entitled. “We’re basically married, Cindy. What’s yours is mine, right? You’re going to be weak, and I just want to protect you. Besides, my money is your money.” I spun around, locking eyes with him. “And what if I say no?” Nolan’s perfectly constructed mask slipped for a fraction of a second. His jaw tightened, but he quickly forced the loving smile back onto his face. “Babe, why are you being so paranoid all of a sudden? I’m trying to look out for you. Don’t you trust me?” Looking at his disgustingly fake face, I forced down the urge to vomit right on his shoes. “Of course I trust you. Let’s just talk about it later. The test results aren’t even back yet.” Hearing me back down, Nolan let out a quiet sigh of relief. “Okay, whatever you want. Oh, by the way, my mom wants to invite your parents over for a big dinner this weekend. We want to officially announce our engagement.” An engagement? I laughed internally. He was going to use a massive, public engagement party to socially back me into a corner and force me onto the operating table. I nodded slowly. “Sounds great. I’ll let my parents know.” Watching Nolan happily hum a tune as he walked into the bathroom to shower, I picked up the bag of my favorite dumplings and dropped it straight into the trash can. The results came back on a gloomy Thursday afternoon. Dr. Chen called me personally to tell me my genetic markers were a perfect match for Mrs. Davis. The transplant could proceed immediately. I thanked him calmly and sent a two-word text to Nolan. “It’s a match.” Three seconds later, my phone exploded. Nolan’s voice was vibrating with barely contained euphoria. “Are you serious, sweetheart?! Oh my god, that’s amazing! You saved her life! You are our family’s absolute savior!” I pulled the phone away from my ear, letting his nauseating praise play on speaker. “You have to dress up for the engagement party this weekend. I’ve invited my entire extended family. I’m going to stand on stage and thank you in front of everyone.” He paused, his voice dropping into a sickeningly sweet register. “And while we’re at it… let’s just get the consent forms signed, okay? The doctor said we need to move fast.” I looked out at the rolling gray storm clouds outside my office window and smiled coldly. “Can’t wait. See you this weekend.”

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It was our fifth year together. My mother had given me a strict ultimatum. Either marry him, or break up. And I had brought up marriage three times. The first time, Oliver said: “Sasha fell at home. I need to take her to the hospital for a checkup. We’ll talk about this when I get back.” The second time, he said: “The limited-edition collectibles Sasha wants are launching in stores today. I have to get in line early. Don’t rush me.” The third time, I looked him dead in the eye and asked him directly: is it marriage, or a breakup? He stared at me in silence for a long time. “Stop making a scene. We will get married, but not right now. I promised Sasha I wouldn’t get married until she finds a boyfriend.” Having finally received the answer I needed, I stopped arguing. I picked up my phone and called the jewelry store I had contacted weeks ago. “You can cancel the custom men’s wedding ring. I don’t need it anymore.” He had no idea that I had given him three chances to choose me. Now that those three chances were gone, I would never wait for him again. 1 After finalizing the cancellation with the jeweler, I called a secondhand appliance buyer. When the man arrived and saw the items I was selling, his jaw dropped, his booming voice echoing through the hallway. “Young lady, are you sure you don’t want your fridge, your TV, and your sofa? They all look practically brand new. Shouldn’t you discuss this with your partner first?” I shook my head. “There is no need. Just calculate the price. You can take everything today.” Seeing my determination, the man stopped asking questions and offered a fair price. Once we shook hands, a bright grin spread across his face. “These are massive items, miss. I can’t fit them all in my truck in one go. Do you mind if I haul them away in batches?” “That’s fine.” By the time Oliver came home from work, the movers were in the middle of carrying our television out the door. “What’s going on? Where are they taking the TV?” Oliver’s brow furrowed, his deep voice laced with confusion. “I sold it,” I replied simply, making no effort to hide the truth. “Sold it?” Oliver let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. “You sold the TV? What is Sasha supposed to watch when she comes over? You know how much she loves streaming her shows.” Before he could even finish his sentence, a thought seemed to strike him, and his tense brow relaxed slightly. “Actually, forget it. The old one was too small anyway, it was straining her eyes. Good riddance. I’ll buy a bigger one.” When I had first suggested buying a television, he had been entirely against the idea. We’re both busy with work, Gemma. Who has time to watch TV? It’ll just sit there collecting dust. But he had forgotten that I lacked any sense of security. Whenever he worked overtime, I was left entirely alone in this cold, empty apartment. The absolute silence terrified me. So, despite his protests, I had bought the television. I had hoped that whenever I felt lonely and afraid, the soft hum of the TV would act as a surrogate for Oliver’s presence. I never imagined that after buying it, the person who used it most wouldn’t be me, but his childhood friend, Sasha. I didn’t say a word. Oliver pulled out his phone and began browsing online. Once he placed the order, he looked up to offer a casual warning. “Make sure you don’t fight Sasha for the remote anymore. She’s still basically a child. Be the mature one and let her have her way.” That sentence. In the five years we had been together, I had heard it countless times. Whenever Sasha was around, nothing in this home belonged to me. I was always expected to yield. In the past, hearing those words would have triggered a massive argument. But now, I simply offered a quiet nod. “I know. I won’t fight her for it ever again.” Not just the remote. I won’t fight her for you, either. Hearing my compliance, a look of profound relief flashed in Oliver’s eyes. He let out a soft sigh. “Gemma, if only you had been this sensible in the past.” 2 In the past, the mere mention of Sasha’s name would send my emotions spiraling out of control. Like last year, when he took my birthday gift and gave it to Sasha. I had broken down, pointing a finger at him as I screamed: Sasha is the only person you care about! If you love her so much, why don’t you make her your girlfriend? That day, the look he gave me was colder than ice. In his eyes, I was nothing more than a hysterical, unreasonable madwoman. With deep disgust, he had muttered: Gemma, I view Sasha as a sister. Stop spewing garbage. Whenever I complained after that, he would simply say: A dirty mind sees dirt in everything. But he had no idea. I argued because I still cared. Now, my silence wasn’t because I had become “sensible.” It was because I had stopped loving him. “By the way, Sasha is attending a high school reunion tonight. Some of her old classmates always target her, and she can’t handle them alone. I need to go with her, so don’t wait up for dinner.” Without waiting for my reply, he walked straight into the bedroom to freshen up and change. My phone buzzed with a message from the appliance buyer. Miss Qiao, I’ve transferred the money for the TV. How about I transfer the payment for each item as we haul them away? I typed back a brief agreement. When Oliver emerged from the bedroom, fully dressed, I was busy packing the throw pillows, blankets, and plush toys from the sofa into a large trash bag. I looked at him. “These are all Sasha’s things. Should I put them in your room, or are you going to return them to her?” Every single one of these items had been bought by Oliver for her. She had once casually complained while watching a movie that the sofa felt too empty and barren. The very next day, Oliver had bought her favorite pink pillows and blankets, creating a cozy little corner dedicated entirely to her. Whenever I accidentally sat in her designated spot, his face would cloud over. The sofa is huge, Gemma. Can’t you sit somewhere else? Sasha has OCD, she hates seeing her things messed up. He would make me move, then meticulously fold the blanket and arrange the toys back in their exact positions. “Gemma, what are you throwing a fit about now? Those things were perfectly fine on the sofa. Why do you always have to look for trouble?” His voice carried a cold, suppressed irritation. “I sold the sofa. The movers are taking it tomorrow. You can do whatever you want with those things.” I set the bag down by his bedroom door, refusing to engage further. As I turned to go back to my room to get changed for dinner, Oliver’s dismissive scoff echoed behind me. “I told you that sofa was awful when you bought it. I’m glad you’re finally willing to sell it and get a new one.” “Don’t worry about buying the replacement. I’ll handle it. Sasha has a bad back, she can’t lie on a firm leather sofa. I’ll pick out something soft for her, otherwise she’ll be uncomfortable.” The only reason I had chosen a firm leather sofa was because he had told me it was better for the lumbar spine and neck. I had remembered every single word he had ever spoken. But he had never once kept my needs in his heart. I pressed my lips together, my voice barely a whisper. “Whatever you want.” It didn’t matter. I would be gone in a few days anyway. Whatever he bought had absolutely nothing to do with me. Shortly after Oliver left, I got changed and went out. I picked a restaurant that had rave reviews online. But when the hostess led me to my table, familiar laughter drifted from behind the decorative screen next to me. 3 “Sasha, you’re amazing! You actually bagged the golden boy of our high school. How long have you two been together?” “Yes! When is the wedding? Don’t forget to invite us to the celebration!” “I knew they would end up together! Back in school, Oliver was ice-cold to everyone, but he was always different with Sasha. It’s just like those romantic posts online, his eyes literally light up when he looks at her!” Hearing those two names, my feet froze. I instinctively glanced through the gaps in the screen. Oliver and Sasha had their backs to me. I couldn’t see their expressions, but I clearly saw Oliver carefully picking the bones out of a fish and placing the tender meat into her bowl. A collective gasp of envy erupted from the table. “Oh my gosh, Sasha, he is so attentive! I’m so jealous. If my husband had even half his sweetness, we wouldn’t be fighting every other day.” “Exactly! You are so lucky!” Basking in their admiration, Stella’s face glowed with pride, a smug smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “It’s nothing, really. Oliver just understands me perfectly. It’s no big deal.” Yes. Oliver understood her perfectly. A single glance from her was enough for him to know exactly what she wanted. If she wanted to watch a midnight movie, even if he was exhausted, he would instantly get dressed and drive her to the theater. If she wanted to hike a mountain, even though he had a severe fear of heights, he would swallow his panic to accompany her. Meanwhile, when I was burning with a high fever that eventually turned into pneumonia, begging him to take me to the clinic, he had shrugged me off. Sasha’s dog is missing, and she’s hysterical. I have to help her search. It’s just a mild fever, Gemma. You’re not going to die. Drive yourself. The memory brought back my mother’s words from earlier this year. Gilly, when your father and I started dating, he couldn’t wait to visit your grandmother’s house the very next day to ask for my hand. You and Oliver have been together for five years. Has he brought up marriage even once? If you keep wasting your youth on him, what are you going to do when you’re older and he decides to walk away? At the time, my thoughts had been incredibly naive. I had decided to give Oliver three chances. If he showed even a sliver of desire to build a future with me, I would have kept waiting. I had even contacted the jewelry store to pre-order our rings. But reality had delivered a stinging, humiliating slap to my face. When he told me he wouldn’t marry until Sasha found a boyfriend, I had asked him: What if she never finds anyone? After a long, heavy silence, he had replied: A marriage is just a piece of paper. As long as our relationship is stable, it doesn’t matter whether we have it or not. I understood his meaning perfectly. He was saying that as long as Sasha was single, he would remain single for her. In that single second, I realized how utterly pathetic our five years together had been. “Oh! Gemma? What are you doing here?” A familiar gasp cut through the air. I looked up to find Sasha standing right beside my table, staring at me in surprise. Hearing her voice, Oliver turned around. His eyes locked onto mine, his expression tightening instantly. He looked terrified that I might say something to ruin his performance. “Oliver, Sasha, do you know this beautiful lady?” one of their classmates asked. I looked at Oliver, curious to see what he would say. He slowly averted his gaze, his voice completely flat. “No. I don’t know her.” The words slammed into my chest, shattering the very last thread of affection I had left for him. I let out a soft, clear laugh. Looking at Sasha, I smiled. “Yes. I don’t know them. You must have mistaken me for someone else.” 4 Sasha playfully stuck out her tongue, quickly following our lead. “Ah, my bad. I got the wrong person.” She and her friends headed toward the restroom. Just then, my phone vibrated. It was a message from Oliver. I’m only here to help Sasha save face. Don’t overthink it. Once you’re done eating, wait for me there. We’ll head back together. The power is out at Sasha’s apartment complex, so she’s staying at our place tonight. It wasn’t a discussion. It was an explanation and an executive order, delivered with a twisted sense of charity. After all, whenever Sasha stayed over in the past, he had never once bothered to inform me beforehand. I didn’t reply to his message, nor did I wait for him. I booked a ticket for a movie that was about to start, bought a boba tea, and walked into the theater. Before long, Oliver sent another message asking where I was. I ignored it. When he called, I switched off my phone without a second thought. By the time I returned to the apartment after the movie, the living room was bathed in a warm glow. Oliver was patiently blow-drying Sasha’s hair while she sat in her silk pajamas. The scene was incredibly domestic and warm. It made me feel like an intruder who had accidentally stumbled into someone else’s happy home. “Gemma, you’re finally back! Where did you go?” Sasha was the first to notice me. She set Oliver’s phone down, blinking at me with forced innocence. “If you have the guts to ignore my calls and messages, you should have the guts to stay out,” Oliver said, not pausing his movements. He cast a sharp, mocking look in my direction. In the past, his biting words would have carved a painful wound in my chest. Now, I felt entirely indifferent, as if I were listening to a stranger’s empty chatter. Ignoring him, I walked toward the kitchen. The refrigerator was also mine, and I had already arranged to sell it. The moment I pulled the door open, the cool air hit my face. When I had checked the fridge this afternoon, it was practically bare. But now, it was stuffed to the brim with the specific milk and fruits that Sasha loved. Before I could even react, Oliver stepped up and slammed the fridge door shut. “Everything in there was bought for Sasha. She likes to have a stockpile. If you want something, go buy it yourself tomorrow.” “The fridge is mine,” I said, looking at him calmly. “If you want to keep it, I can sell it to you at a discount.” He let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “This apartment is mine. Are you sure you want to count pennies with me like this?” Seeing the absolute contempt in his eyes, a sudden wave of clarity washed over me. When I had first moved in, he had begged me on his knees. Gemma, I can’t bear to be apart from you. I miss you the second you’re out of my sight. As long as you’re willing to move in with me, my home is your home. I promise you, if we ever fight, I’ll be the one to pack up and leave. I will never make you feel like you don’t belong. I pressed my lips together, refusing to waste another breath. I went into my bedroom and calculated the exact cost of three years of rent. Once the math was done, I pulled out my suitcase, packed my clothes, and slipped the calculated cash into an envelope. I walked out, rolling my suitcase behind me, and set the heavy envelope on the table in front of Sasha. “This is the rent for the three years I’ve lived here, minus the cost of the refrigerator. You can count it.” Sasha looked panicked. “Gemma, what are you doing? Oliver didn’t mean to kick you out, he was just…” “Sasha, stop talking!” Oliver snarled, snatching the envelope and shoving it into her hands. “Just keep it as pocket money.” He turned to me, his teeth clenched, his eyes blazing with fury. “Gemma, if you want to leave, get the hell out. But don’t you dare regret this! I want to see exactly where you think you can go after walking out that door!” I ignored his venomous words, gripped the handle of my suitcase, and walked out. As the heavy front door clicked shut behind me, Sasha’s voice drifted through the gap. “Oliver, go after her! It’s the middle of the night, where is she supposed to go?” Oliver let out a cold, dismissive scoff. “Leave her. She’ll be back in two days. She always comes back.” He had no idea that I was never coming back. The moment I decided to let him go, he ceased to exist in my future.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “463161”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 As the token scholarship kid in a classroom full of trust fund babies, my biggest dream was simple. I wanted to be the perfect little fixer for the wealthy heirs of my elite prep school, keep my stomach full, and score a full ride to an Ivy League university. For two years, I did their homework, ran their errands, and tutored them. Even after my so-called parents snatched away most of my earnings, I still managed to stay warm, well-fed, and stash away thirty thousand dollars. But right before senior year, a massive bombshell dropped on my head. It turned out I was the switched-at-birth, biological heiress to a massive corporate empire. The first thing I did was drop the news in our private school group chat. Victoria, the undisputed queen bee of Manhattan’s upper crust and my favorite client, scoffed at the news. “Don’t even bother going back. I bet those biological parents of yours will blindly side with the fake daughter anyway. You’re better off staying as our favorite little minion. Otherwise, a sweet thing like you will just get eaten alive.” When I insisted on returning, Victoria elegantly patted my shoulder. “Fine, go back. But don’t sweat it. If anyone dares to bully you, I’ll personally ruin them.” The rest of the class chimed in immediately. “Yeah! We’ve got your back!” Warmth bloomed in my chest. Victoria was the heiress to the Vanguard Group, and every single kid in this class came from old money. Compared to them, my biological family, the Lockwoods, were barely middle-class masquerading as elites. With this kind of backup, I had absolutely nothing to fear. So when I finally returned to the Lockwood estate, I went entirely scorched earth. My biological parents didn’t even bother to pick me up. They just sent a driver. The driver dumped me at the front gate and sped off. I had to knock for ten minutes before a housekeeper finally opened the door. The moment I stepped into the foyer, I saw a middle-aged couple cooing over a girl dressed like a literal princess. Beside her stood a handsome young man, his face twisting with protective affection. “Don’t worry. You are my only sister. Even if that trash comes back, I will never acknowledge her!” The parents quickly joined in. “Oh, Stella, don’t cry. Even if you don’t share our blood, you will always be our most precious daughter!” “That Kelly girl could never compare to you. If she even tries to give you an attitude, we’ll throw her right back out!” I let out a cold laugh. I had made plenty of noise walking in, yet not a single one of them had bothered to look up. They were doing this on purpose. My biological parents and brother were intentionally icing me out. I lifted my heavy suitcase and slammed it down onto the imported mahogany floor. Bang. The impact was so hard the floorboards literally shuddered. I had survived eighteen years of hard labor and physical abuse under the hands of my vicious foster parents. My physical strength was no joke. Sure enough, the deafening crash shattered their little picturesque family moment. All four heads snapped toward me. Cameron and Monica Lockwood looked at me with deep displeasure, but Cameron, my biological brother, just yelled at me. “Where the hell did this little menace come from? Have you no manners!” Hearing Cameron’s outburst, Stella tugged at his sleeve and looked at me with wide, innocent eyes. “Sister, you’re back? I’m so sorry, Mom and Dad were just so busy comforting me that they didn’t notice you.” But underneath that sweet tone, her eyes were practically dancing with smug triumph. I just twitched the corner of my mouth and stayed completely silent. A flash of disappointment crossed Stella’s eyes before she looked me up and down. “I heard your foster family was really struggling financially. But you’re wearing brand names today, Sister. Where did you get the money for that? Did you get some creepy sugar daddy to buy them for you?” “It’s not a crime to be broke, but selling your body just to feed your vanity is terrifying. You shouldn’t do things like that, Sister.” Stella casually spit out the most venomous accusations with a face full of fake concern. Before she could even finish, Cameron exploded. “Kelly, is Stella telling the truth? You actually slept around just to buy designer tags? You shameless little tramp! The Lockwood family will never let a slut like you through our doors! I’d rather die than call you my sister!” Cameron and Monica finally stood up and marched over to me. 2 Monica looked at me with absolute disgust. “Kelly, even if your foster parents were poor, you didn’t have to stoop so low! To do something like that just for clothes…” Cameron was so furious he raised his hand, fully intending to slap me. “What a disgrace! What did I do to deserve such a shameless daughter? Prostituting yourself over a piece of clothing!” “Get out of my house right now!” Watching the ugly expressions on their faces, the tiny sliver of hope I had when I walked through the door evaporated into nothing. I glanced down at my outfit. It was just a basic clearance sweatsuit from Target. The whole set cost maybe thirty bucks. How did that magically turn into a luxury brand in Stella’s mouth? Victoria wore actual designer clothes. Her outfits cost tens of thousands of dollars. That was luxury. Just because I was wearing cheap sweatpants, they were ready to crucify me. It was downright nauseating. Victoria had taught me well. When faced with baseless slander, never waste time defending yourself. Just hit back harder. I sneered, pulled out my phone, and immediately dialed 911. “Hello, 911? Someone here claims they saw me being taken advantage of by an older man, but I have no memory of it. I must have been drugged. I need to report a crime! I’m currently at…” Standing across from me, Stella’s face drained of all color. She stared at me in pure horror. Before I could finish the sentence, Cameron lunged forward, snatched the phone from my hand, and ended the call. He stared at me like I was an alien. “Kelly, what the hell are you doing? Are you insane!” I pointed a cold finger right at Stella. “Didn’t she just say my clothes were bought with dirty money? If I did that and have no memory of it, I must have been roofied and set up! Of course I have to call the cops. Stella is my prime witness!” “Give me the phone back. I wasn’t finished! I need the police to investigate this massive crime that happened to me without my knowledge!” I was strong. Cameron was absolutely no match for me. I grabbed his wrist and, while he stared at me in shock, I easily wrenched my phone right back out of his grip. The screen was black, but I unlocked it and prepared to dial again. This time, Stella practically threw herself at me and grabbed my hand. Her voice was trembling. “Sister, please don’t call the cops! I never said I saw anything with my own eyes. I was just guessing…” I stared at her, my eyes entirely devoid of warmth. “Just guessing?” “You just randomly guessed and decided to completely destroy my reputation? You started a rumor that I sell my body for cash! Do you have any idea how a rumor like that can ruin a girl’s life? Are you trying to drive me to suicide? Stealing eighteen years of my life as an heiress wasn’t enough for you? The second I step foot in this house, you want me dead!” Tears began to stream down my face in thick, heavy drops. Victoria had told me that showing weakness at the right time wasn’t surrendering. It was a strategy to gain the upper hand. Sure enough, seeing my tear-streaked face, a flicker of guilt finally crossed Cameron and Monica’s eyes. Only Cameron opened his mouth to defend Stella. “Kelly, that’s not what she meant. Stop twisting her words!” Stella noticed that Cameron and Monica were staying quiet. She panicked. “Mom, Dad, I didn’t mean it like that! I just thought it was illogical. I heard her foster family was incredibly poor, so it didn’t make sense that she could afford nice clothes…” I barked out a harsh laugh. “You want to talk about how I lived? Your biological parents did this to us on purpose. I was forced to cook and do laundry by the time I was three. If I messed up, I was beaten black and blue every single day!” I shoved my sleeves up, exposing a canvas of faded bruises and deep, terrifying scars. 3 Seeing my arms, Cameron actually gagged. “That is so freaking gross.” Monica, however, burst into tears and tried to pull me into a hug. “Oh, Kelly, we have failed you all these years!” I coldly stepped out of her embrace and locked eyes with Stella. “These clothes cost thirty dollars. They aren’t designer. I bought them with my academic scholarship money. I just didn’t want to meet my real parents wearing rags that even a homeless person would throw away. Is that a crime?” Stella was completely speechless. Realizing the tide had turned against her, she pivoted instantly. “Mom, Dad, I really didn’t mean anything by it. Sister is just overthinking. She clearly still hates me for taking her place. I’ll apologize. I’ll do anything to make it up to her…” Before she could finish her little performance, I cut her off with a bright smile. “Make it up to me? Sounds great!” “I want your bedroom.” Stella choked on her breath. She opened her mouth, ready to scream a refusal. But I beat her to the punch, my voice cracking as I started to cry again. “I knew your apology was totally fake. Saying you’d make it up to me was just another lie…” “Take it! Just take it!” … Just as I suspected, the room the Lockwoods had prepared for me was a tiny maid’s quarters. It didn’t even have a window. It barely fit a twin bed, let alone a desk. My preemptive strike had been flawless. Stella’s bedroom was the biggest and most luxurious suite in the house. A massive canopy bed, bright floor-to-ceiling windows, a gorgeous study desk, and genuine leather sofas. Every piece of furniture screamed wealth. Studying in a room like this instantly put me in a fantastic mood. I quickly pulled out my textbooks and started grinding through practice tests. With an environment this nice, I could easily crush three extra sets of mock exams a day. Once I finished my own studying, I started organizing class notes for my wealthy clients. They had made it very clear that even if I transferred schools, I was still on the payroll. I dropped the polished PDFs into the group chat. Instantly, my classmates started Venmoing me a thousand bucks each. Within fifteen minutes, my balance shot up by fifty thousand dollars. On top of that, Victoria wired me an extra five thousand. Victoria’s notes were always VIP tier. I sent her a private, customized file complete with hand-drawn diagrams and detailed analytical breakdowns. In my heart, Victoria would always be the MVP. After sending the money, she texted: [Remember to tell me if they mess with you, little minion.] I smiled and typed a quick confirmation. Just as I hit send, the housekeeper knocked, telling me dinner was ready. When I walked downstairs, Stella was snuggled up against Monica at the dining table, acting like a spoiled child. Monica was issuing strict orders to the housekeeper. “Make sure Stella’s new room is decorated exactly like her old one, understand? Only use the highest quality linens and furniture.” Cameron slid a sleek bank card across the table to Stella. “There’s two hundred thousand on this card. That’s your allowance for the month.” Cameron grinned at her. “Don’t be sad, Stella. See how much Mom and Dad love you? Who cares if Kelly shares our blood? She isn’t worth a single hair on your head. I’ll wire you a hundred grand later!” Stella looked positively radiant. “I knew my family loved me the most!” As if sensing my presence, she looked up and shot me a highly provocative smirk. I just curved my lips into a polite smile, calmly pulled out a chair, and sat down. “Dad. Mom.” Their smiles instantly froze. Monica looked at me with heavy guardedness. Whatever guilt she had felt an hour ago was completely gone. Cameron looked me up and down, his eyes icy. A dull ache throbbed in my chest, but I buried it immediately. Cameron cleared his throat. “Kelly, since you’re home now, you need to start school tomorrow.” “We know your previous living situation was poor, so your grades must be terrible. We don’t blame you for that. You obviously can’t attend Stella’s academy. I’ve already pulled some strings at a decent private high school. You will report there tomorrow.” Before I could even respond, Stella chimed in. “Sister, are you upset about the school Dad picked for you? But your grades are so bad, there’s no way you could keep up at my academy! If you really hate it that much and insist on going to my school, I’ll just drop out and go to yours. Would that make you happy?” 4 Cameron slammed his hand on the table. “Are you crazy, Stella? Why should you drop out and lower your standards for this idiot? I absolutely forbid you from ruining your future over her!” Monica looked at me with deep disapproval. “Kelly, as our daughter, you cannot be this jealous. Your grades are terrible, so you belong at an average school. What gives you the right to demand the same treatment as Stella?” Cameron slammed his water glass down. “Kelly, I suggest you learn your place. Stella is not dropping out to accommodate you!” I looked at them, genuinely baffled, and just said what was on my mind. “Am I actually your biological child?” Cameron answered instinctively. “Of course! Why else would we bring you here!” I laughed coldly. “If I’m your real daughter, why do you blindly believe every single lie Stella tells you?” “Earlier, she made up a rumor that I was a prostitute, and you believed her. Now she’s making up rumors that my grades are bad, and you believe her again. Did you even bother looking into my background?” Cameron looked embarrassed. Stella opened her mouth to interrupt, but I didn’t give her the chance. “I wasn’t finished telling you about how her real parents treated me. Not only did they starve and beat me, but they also tried to force me into an arranged marriage with a creepy older man for a quick payout.” “Do you want to know why they didn’t go through with it?” Stella finally found a gap to inject her poison. “Because they aren’t that evil! You’re just making all of this up…” “Because I was a straight-A student!” I cut her off sharply. “I was the Valedictorian of my entire district! I got into the best public high school in Chicago on a full merit scholarship, and the school paid me a three-thousand-dollar stipend every single year!” “The only reason they kept me around was because they wanted to steal my scholarship money. Your biological parents aren’t just purely evil, they are greedy to the bone!” Stella’s face turned white as she tried to argue, but I was faster. I slammed my official transcript right onto the table in front of Cameron. “This is my academic record. I rank first in my entire grade, every single semester. I’m pretty sure grades like this are more than enough to get me into Stella’s elite academy.” Cameron picked up the transcript. The disdain in his eyes slowly morphed into shock. “Ranked first? You really are smart!” He pulled out his phone, sent me two hundred bucks, and smiled. “Kelly, your grades are excellent. I’m very pleased. You will transfer to Stella’s school tomorrow.” “Dad!” Stella shrieked. Cameron shot her a placating look before turning back to me, his expression turning dead serious. “However, even though your grades are good, I cannot make your identity public right now. At school, you will introduce yourself as a distant relative of the Lockwood family. Understood?” When I didn’t say anything, his tone turned threatening. “You will do exactly as I say. Otherwise, don’t blame me for throwing you right back onto the streets you came from!” “You might not know this, but Stella is arranged to marry the heir of the Sinclair family. Her status as a Lockwood heiress cannot be jeopardized!” The Sinclair family? I remembered doing a background check before moving in. Stella’s fiancé was some guy named Tedd Sinclair. Tedd? Victoria had mentioned a cousin of hers named Tedd. His entire family’s wealth and status relied entirely on the Vanguard Group’s charity. So this was the real reason Cameron was so obsessed with protecting Stella. “As long as you play nice, I’ll wire you two hundred bucks a week,” Cameron finished, completely confident he had bought my silence. How pathetic. He actually thought a measly two hundred bucks a week was enough to leash me. It was laughable. I literally made fifty thousand dollars just by sharing a PDF! 5 So the next day, when Stella proudly stood at the front of the classroom and introduced me as her poor, distant relative, I didn’t even blink. I looked right at the teacher and the students and spoke clearly. “Stella is lying. Her biological parents are actually abusive con artists. She is the fake heiress. I am the true daughter. Her parents were the ones who switched us at birth.” “The only reason my last name is still Smith is because the paperwork hasn’t cleared yet.” “I am the real heiress of the Lockwood family.” The entire classroom descended into absolute chaos. “Oh my god, the tea is piping hot! Stella isn’t the real daughter? The new girl is?” “Then why did Stella call her a poor relative? She was totally trying to protect her own status!” “Duh! Her parents are literal criminals! She’s the daughter of criminals! That’s a massive drop from being a billionaire heiress!” “Wait, isn’t Stella engaged to Tedd? Do you think the Sinclair family will still want her now that she’s a fake?” Standing at the podium, Stella’s face flushed a violent, humiliating red. She glared at me in disbelief before dropping her voice to a furious hiss. “Kelly, did you forget what Dad warned you about? You actually exposed yourself? Aren’t you terrified he’ll kick you out of the house tonight? You only have two hundred dollars to your name. Good luck surviving the rest of the year on that!” I tilted my head, looking at her trembling, rage-filled face, and smiled. “I don’t give a damn.” … Originally, the teacher was going to stick me in the back row next to the trash cans. But after my little introduction, she nervously cleared a desk for me in the prestigious third row. I sat down calmly, pulled out my practice exams, and started working. Once I finished, I had to draft up some fresh study guides for Victoria and my old classmates. The second the bell rang, a massive crowd of students swarmed my desk. Their faces were practically glowing with gossip. They bombarded me with questions about Stella and the baby-switching drama. I ignored all of them, keeping my head down and focusing on my work. I barely wrote two words before Stella marched over, trailing a furious-looking guy behind her. She held her chin high. “Kelly, I already texted Dad about what you did. He is absolutely furious! He said he’s kicking you out of the Lockwood family permanently!” The guy beside her wrapped a protective arm around Stella’s waist. “Listen up, you trash. I don’t care if Stella is biological or not. In my heart, she is the only Lockwood heiress! Our engagement stands, do you hear me!” This was Tedd Sinclair. He glared at me with absolute venom. “Kelly, who cares if you share their blood? I will never like you! My family is going to the Lockwood estate tonight to pressure your father. We will make sure you get thrown out onto the streets!” The moment Tedd spoke, the gossiping students instantly shut their mouths. They backed away, looking at me with pity. I looked at Tedd and Stella’s smug, arrogant faces and burst out laughing. “Really? I can’t wait to see that.” Whispers broke out around the room again. “The Sinclair family is super powerful. With them backing Stella, Kelly really might get kicked out!” “Man, the real daughter has it rough. It’s her first day here, and she’s probably going to be expelled tomorrow.” Even the teacher looked at me with deep anxiety. She was probably regretting moving my desk away from the trash cans. But I remained completely unbothered the entire day. I casually pulled out my phone and sent a text to Victoria. [Looks like I hit a snag. Need a little backup.]

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1 Grandma told me the nurse was pinching her in the middle of the night, even tying her up in the bathroom. Naturally, I didn’t believe her. She was eighty years old, and her dementia was worsening by the day. I figured she would spin any wild tale just to avoid staying in a nursing home. Swallowing my frustration, I apologized to the nurse with a smile and even presented her with a custom engraved plaque of appreciation. The next day, another purple bruise bloomed on Grandma’s arm. Trembling from head to toe, she insisted it was the exact same person who did it. Her eyes were brimming with absolute, crushing disappointment in me, yet she spoke with such unwavering certainty. By the third day, when I checked the facility’s app and watched the security footage of that same nurse feeding her with practiced gentleness, I completely snapped. “Are you just making up these ridiculous lies to torment me because you don’t want to be here?!” Grandma shook uncontrollably but still mustered the courage to nod. “It’s true. It’s all true…” That night, I left her alone at the nursing home. Halfway driving back to my apartment, a thought suddenly struck me. Why would an eighty-year-old woman, even after being screamed at by her own granddaughter, keep insisting on a lie? Grandma Ruth was my only family left. My parents passed away when I was young. She worked double shifts at a diner and collected scrap metal to raise me, putting me through college so I could finally build a stable life in Seattle. But when I bought my own house in the city, she refused to move in. She said she couldn’t get used to living in a concrete birdcage, that the city air suffocated her. Starting last year, her memory began to fail. Once, she forgot to turn off the stove while boiling water and nearly burned her old house to the ground. The neighbor called me, his voice shaking over the line. “Helen, you need to get back here. Your grandma almost killed herself in that fire!” I took a week off work and forced her to come to the city. But I had a demanding corporate job. I had to travel for business constantly. I couldn’t watch her twenty-four seven. Hire a live-in nanny? She panicked around strangers. Two different caretakers quit within three days because she wouldn’t cooperate. Left with no other choice, I bit the bullet and checked her into the best retirement center in the city. Golden Leaf Senior Care. It cost eighty-five hundred dollars a month. Premium, high-end care. On-site doctors and nurses, three catered meals delivered to the room, and one-on-one caregiver service. When the director gave me the tour, he specifically introduced me to the head nurse. “This is Brenda. She has been with us for eight years. She is our most patient staff member, incredibly skilled at soothing the residents. You can leave your grandmother in her hands with absolute peace of mind.” Brenda was in her fifties, plump, with a soft and comforting voice. “Don’t you worry, sweetheart. I treat these seniors like they are my own flesh and blood.” After thoroughly evaluating the place, I felt profoundly relieved. During the first month, Grandma sounded genuinely happy every time she called. “Helen, the food here is wonderful. Brenda is so sweet to me. She even brings me warm water to soak my feet every night.” The heavy stone in my chest finally dropped. That eighty-five hundred a month was worth every penny. But by the second month, the tone of her calls began to shift. “Helen, I don’t want to stay here anymore. Please take me home…” When I asked why, she stammered and couldn’t give a straight answer, only murmuring that she was homesick. I gently coaxed her. “Nana, your legs aren’t doing well. I worry too much if you go back to the old house. Let me finish this busy project at work, and I will bring you over to stay with me for a few days.” She fell silent for a long time before whispering a quiet okay and hanging up. I didn’t think much of it at the time. Old folks getting homesick was perfectly normal. But over the next few days, her calls became increasingly frequent. She kept repeating the exact same sentence. “Helen, when are you coming to pick me up?” My patience began to wear thin. “Nana, I am swamped with work. Please stop calling me constantly. If you need something, ask your nurse. Isn’t Brenda taking good care of you?” Grandma stopped talking. And then, the incident happened. I was in the middle of a board meeting when my phone started buzzing relentlessly. The caller ID showed the nursing home. I stepped out into the hallway to answer. Brenda’s voice came through, laced with a heavy sigh of helplessness. “Helen, I am so sorry to bother you. Your grandmother had a little fall and scraped her arm. Please don’t panic. We have already treated the wound.” When I rushed over, Grandma was sitting on the edge of her bed. There was a massive, dark purple bruise on her right elbow, accompanied by several bloody scratch marks. “How did you fall?” Grandma cast a terrified glance at Brenda, shrinking her neck back, and refused to speak. Brenda sighed heavily. “She got up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night. I offered to help her, but she stubbornly refused. She slipped on the tiles. When I rushed over to help her up, she panicked and started scratching me.” Brenda rolled up her sleeve, revealing several angry red scratch marks on the back of her hand. “It is perfectly fine. The elderly can be stubborn. I completely understand.” I believed her. As I was about to leave, Grandma suddenly grabbed my hand. Her grip was frighteningly strong. “Helen, I didn’t fall. Brenda pinched me. She comes in the middle of the night and pinches me…” I froze. I looked back at Brenda. She just offered a helpless, bitter smile and shook her head. “Helen, she has been a bit confused lately. The doctor said this is just the progression of her illness. She will experience hallucinations and paranoia. Please don’t take it to heart.” I let out a heavy sigh of relief. Right. Grandma had Alzheimer’s. The doctor had warned me she would start seeing things that weren’t there. 2 I squatted down to comfort her. “Nana, did you just have a bad dream? Brenda is so good to you. Why would she pinch you?” Grandma grew frantic, her eyes wide with desperation. “It wasn’t a dream! It was her!” “When I was sleeping, she came in and pinched my thighs. She pinched my waist. When I woke up crying from the pain, she told me I was just dreaming!” Brenda maintained her perfect, gentle facade. She walked over and tucked the blanket securely around Grandma. “Mrs. Ruth, if you don’t like me, I can speak to the director and have another nurse assigned to care for you. How does that sound?” Grandma instantly fell silent. A visceral flash of pure terror crossed her eyes. I completely misread the situation. I thought Grandma was just feeling guilty for lying, and I silently blamed her for being unreasonable. “Nana, please stop throwing tantrums.” “I am paying a fortune every month just so you can live comfortably.” “Brenda treats you so wonderfully, and you accuse her of this? Does that seem fair?” Grandma opened her mouth to speak, but hot tears suddenly spilled over her cheeks. She let go of my hand, rolled over, and turned her back to me. Her frail shoulders trembled with silent sobs. My heart ached, but I stood my ground. I hadn’t done anything wrong. The elderly could get confused, but I couldn’t let myself get dragged into her delusions. Driving back, my mind was a chaotic mess. Eighty-five hundred a month was nearly half my salary. I bit the bullet and paid it because I desperately wanted her to have a good life. Why couldn’t she just understand that? The next day, Brenda texted me several photos. Grandma was sitting in a wheelchair, soaking up the sun in the courtyard. Brenda was crouched beside her, carefully clipping her fingernails. Both of them looked genuinely happy. Brenda sent a voice note. “Helen, your grandmother is in much better spirits today. I took her outside to get some fresh air, and I even fed her half an apple. Please don’t worry. The elderly just need a little extra coaxing.” A warm feeling spread through my chest. I thought Brenda was truly a saint. That evening, I called Grandma, hoping to mend the tension between us. The phone rang for a long time before she picked up. Her voice sounded deeply muffled. “Helen…” “Nana, Brenda took you out into the sun today, right? Did you have a good time?” The line went dead silent. After a long pause, she finally spoke. “Helen, do you believe your Nana?” My stomach dropped. “She pinched me again. Today, when we were in the courtyard and no one was looking, she pinched my waist. She told me if I dared to tattle on her again, she would pull all my teeth out…” My temper flared instantly. “Nana! Why are you still making up these ridiculous lies?!” “Brenda sent me photos! She was crouching there cutting your nails, smiling at you like you were her own mother! How could she possibly be pinching you?!” Low, heartbreaking sobs echoed through the phone. “You don’t believe me. You don’t believe me either…” I took a deep breath, forcing my anger down. “Nana, it isn’t that I don’t believe you. The doctor literally told us your condition causes hallucinations.” “Think about it reasonably. If Brenda was really abusing you, how could she smile so warmly in those pictures?” “She was faking it. She fakes it whenever people are watching…” “Enough!” I cut her off sharply. “I will come visit you this weekend. Stop letting your imagination run wild and get some sleep.” I hung up the phone, feeling a heavy knot forming in my chest. My best friend Jess noticed I looked completely drained and asked what was wrong. I poured the whole story out to her. She sighed sympathetically. “That is just how Alzheimer’s works. My grandmother was exactly the same. She swore up and down that my mom was stealing her money, but the cash was literally right under her own pillow. Don’t stress over it. Just play along and humor her.” I nodded, convincing myself Jess was right. When I visited the nursing home that weekend, I immediately sensed something was off. Grandma was sitting on her bed. When she saw me walk in, her first reaction wasn’t joy. She physically shrank backward. “Nana?” She kept her head lowered, refusing to make eye contact. I stepped closer, reaching out to hold her hand. She flinched and pulled away. “Nana, what is wrong?” She stayed completely silent. Brenda walked in holding a plate of fresh fruit, greeting me with a bright smile. “Helen, you’re here! Have some fruit, I just chopped it up.” The moment Grandma heard Brenda’s voice, her entire body violently shuddered. In that split second, a tiny sliver of doubt pierced my mind. But Brenda acted so perfectly normal. Her smile was warm and inviting. She kept cheerfully updating me. “Mrs. Ruth ate half a bowl of rice today!” and “Mrs. Ruth is in a wonderful mood this afternoon!” I pushed my doubts down, convincing myself I was just being paranoid. As I was getting ready to leave, Grandma suddenly grabbed my sleeve. Her eyes were bloodshot. “Helen, are you coming back next week?” “I am. Of course I am.” She nodded, released her grip, and curled back up on the bed. She looked so small and incredibly pitiful. I walked out the door. Brenda hurried after me, her expression cautious. “Helen, there is something I need to discuss with you.” “Go ahead.” “Your grandmother has been saying a lot of crazy things lately, and it is starting to disturb the other residents.” “I was wondering if we could move her to a private room? The cost is a bit higher, an extra two thousand a month. What do you think?” My chest tightened. “What crazy things is she saying?” Brenda sighed, looking deeply conflicted. “Just the usual stuff. Saying I pinch her, saying I hit her. If the rumors spread, my conscience is clear, but it looks terrible for the facility.” “If other families overhear her, they might actually believe we abuse the elderly here.” My face burned with intense shame. “Brenda, I am so sorry. I apologize for the trouble she is causing you. I will have to think about the private room. Finances are a bit tight right now.” “Oh, it’s perfectly fine! I am just putting the option out there. Take your time to think about it. It is for her own good, really.” Driving home, the guilt gnawed at me. I felt terrible for Brenda. She was working a demanding, exhausting job to care for my grandmother, only to be falsely accused without a single word of complaint. I decided I needed to do something to make it up to her. 3 On Monday, I took a half-day off work and ordered a custom engraved plaque of appreciation. It read in bold letters: Exceptional Care, Just Like Family. When I delivered it to the nursing home, it was the afternoon visiting hour. The hallway was bustling with other families. Brenda saw the plaque, and her eyes practically vanished behind her massive, beaming smile. “Oh my goodness, Helen! What is all this? You are too kind! I am just doing my job!” I held her hands, intentionally raising my voice for the hallway to hear. “Brenda, you absolutely must accept this!” “My grandmother’s mind is failing her, and she constantly spouts nonsense and wrongly accuses you. Yet you still care for her with such incredible patience. I truly do not know how to thank you enough!” The surrounding families nodded in agreement, some even giving us a thumbs-up. “Brenda really is an angel. My mom praises her all the time.” “Absolutely. Brenda has been at Golden Leaf for years. She is the most reliable nurse here.” Brenda waved her hands modestly, her face glowing with triumph. The facility director came out, pulling Brenda and me together for a photo next to the plaque, mentioning he wanted to post it on their official Facebook page. I smiled for the camera, feeling a profound sense of relief. Surely Grandma would finally settle down after this. When I went into Grandma’s room, I found her crying. She wasn’t making a sound. The tears were simply cascading down her cheeks. When she saw me walk in, she frantically wiped her face with her sleeve. “Nana?” She refused to look at me. Her eyes were locked dead onto that shiny new plaque. A wave of irritation washed over me. “Nana, I got Brenda a plaque to reward her for taking such good care of you. Please stop spreading those lies. She is genuinely wonderful to you.” She slowly lifted her head and looked right at me. Her eyes held a mix of profound grievance and absolute despair. “Helen, do you honestly believe your Nana has lost her mind?” I choked on my words. “My mind might get foggy sometimes. But I know what pain feels like. I can still tell when I am hurting.” She rolled up her pant leg, exposing her inner thigh for me to see. It was a massive patch of deep, sickening purple, dotted with several finger marks that had already turned black. “She pinched me yesterday. She pinches my inner thighs so you won’t see it.” My brain practically short-circuited with a loud ringing noise. The very next second, Brenda’s voice floated into the room. “Mrs. Ruth, are you tattling on me to Helen again?” She walked in carrying a basin of warm water, her smile sweet and radiant, acting as if she hadn’t a care in the world. “Helen, please don’t take it to heart. The elderly get like this, it comes in waves. She was just laughing with me a minute ago, and now she is crying.” I looked at the horrific bruising on Grandma’s leg, then up at Brenda’s flawless smile. I genuinely didn’t know who to believe anymore. Grandma rolled her pant leg back down, closed her eyes, and refused to look at me again. Brenda gently pulled me out into the hallway, lowering her voice to a concerned whisper. “Helen, that bruise on her leg happened when she bumped into the tub during her shower. I saw it happen with my own eyes.” “Her memory is just awful. She forgets the accident the moment it happens and insists someone pinched her. If you don’t believe me, we can go check the security cameras right now.” Cameras? My eyes lit up with hope. “Can we really check them?” “Of course! We have cameras in all the common areas. There aren’t any inside the private rooms or bathrooms, obviously, because of privacy laws.” “But the hallways and the activity rooms are fully monitored. You can review the footage whenever you want.” I followed Brenda to the security room and pulled up yesterday’s tapes. On the screen, Grandma was sitting in her wheelchair. Brenda was pushing her toward the activity room. Her movements were gentle, and she even leaned down to chat with Grandma. Everything looked incredibly harmonious. During the afternoon shower schedule, Brenda helped her into the bathroom. When they came back out, Grandma was indeed walking with a slight limp, but Brenda was carefully supporting her weight. Nothing looked suspicious. I let out a massive breath of relief. “Brenda, I am so sorry. I never should have doubted you.” Brenda patted my hand with a motherly smile. “It is perfectly fine. I completely understand. It is hard on you family members, too.” Driving home, I called Jess and told her about reviewing the tapes. “See? I told you. Her mind is just playing tricks on her. Stop beating yourself up over it. There is nothing you can do about the disease.” I nodded in agreement, the heavy stone in my chest finally vanishing for good. Wednesday, at two in the morning, my phone violently rang. It was the nursing home’s landline. I answered it groggily. Brenda’s voice came through, panting heavily. “Helen, I am so sorry to wake you at this hour. Your grandmother is throwing another tantrum. She locked herself in the bathroom, and she won’t answer no matter how hard we knock. We are terrified she might hurt herself. Do you know how we can get her out?” I bolted upright in bed, instantly wide awake. “What happened?!” “I have no idea! She was perfectly fine when I checked on her earlier. During my night rounds, I realized she wasn’t in her bed. I searched everywhere and finally found the bathroom door locked from the inside. She won’t answer me. It has been almost an hour.” I threw my clothes on and sprinted out the door. By the time I arrived at the nursing home, it was almost three in the morning. A crowd had gathered outside Grandma’s room. Nurses, security guards, and Brenda standing at the very front, her face etched with deep anxiety. “Helen, thank god you are here! She is still in there. She won’t make a sound, and I am so scared something happened to her!” I pounded on the door. “Nana! It is me! Helen! Open the door!” Dead silence. Panic consumed me. I ordered the security guard to physically pry the door open with a crowbar. The door violently swung open, and the scene inside etched itself into my brain for the rest of my life. Grandma was sitting on the cold floor, slumped against the wall. Her hands were brutally bound to the radiator with her own sweatpants, and a filthy rag was shoved deeply into her mouth. When she saw me, a torrent of tears spilled from her eyes. She let out muffled, agonizing whimpers, completely unable to speak. I charged forward like a madwoman, desperately untying her hands and ripping the dirty rag out of her mouth. “Nana! Nana! Who did this?! Who did this to you?!” Grandma shook violently, burying her face in my chest, sobbing with a sound so broken it tore my soul in half.

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The day my ice-cold fiancée Victoria Hastings ruined her own reputation, I was lounging in the backyard of my Hudson River estate, smoking a perfectly marbled brisket. The savory scent of cracked black pepper and hickory wood had just filled the courtyard when my phone went absolutely nuclear. The vibration was so violent it rattled the table and shattered my eight-thousand-dollar Baccarat crystal tumbler. My boy Jaxon sent fifty voice notes in a row. His throat sounded completely blown out. “Alex!!! Check the trending page!!!” “Massive drama!!! Your girl Victoria!!!” “Live broadcast!! Turn on that dating show right now!! She’s doing you dirty on national TV!!!” A spark from the burning charcoal snapped, nearly singeing my eyebrow. I let out a dark chuckle. Victoria? Humiliating me? That was more absurd than pigs growing wings and winning the Kentucky Derby. Who was Victoria Hastings? Manhattan’s ultimate socialite. The billionaire ice-queen CEO. The internet’s undisputed dream wife who never gave men the time of day. She couldn’t possibly face a scandal. Her entire pristine image was built on an impenetrable mountain of cold, hard cash. Carrying a heavy, murderous aura of who the hell dares to mess with my girl, I tapped into the live stream. The screen instantly loaded. It was a heavily hyped, supposedly unscripted extreme survival dating show. Right at that moment, Victoria was blushing deeply, participating in a game of Truth or Dare. Her dare: Call the man who makes your heart beat the fastest and ask to borrow a hundred million dollars. 1 Live viewer count: thirty-seven million. The comment section was scrolling so fast it looked like a locust swarm, completely obscuring the faces on the screen. I pinched the screen to zoom in. Victoria sat by a crackling bonfire, wearing a cream-colored knit sweater. Her hair was tied up loosely, exposing the elegant curve of her neck. The warm firelight danced across her face, melting away half of her signature icy facade. Next to her sat a man. Early twenties, sharp jawline, piercing eyes, and a charming little mole near the corner of his mouth when he smiled. He wore a custom casual suit, sleeves rolled up twice to show off a limited-edition luxury watch. Nate Alexander. A top-tier pop idol who debuted from a hit reality show. Half the women in America went to sleep dreaming of putting a ring on his finger. He was tilting his head, smiling at Victoria. I knew that exact smile. It was the grin of a predator who had fully cornered his prey and knew she couldn’t escape. The host, Ryan, held up his microphone, dragging out his words to maximize the tension. “Tori, you know the rules. Truth or dare, and you picked dare.” “Now, please call the man who makes your heart race the most, and ask him for a hundred million dollars.” “Remember, it has to be the one who makes your heart race.” The live chat instantly exploded. “The one who makes her heart race! Doesn’t that mean her fiancé?” “Who even is Alex? Has the internet investigated him yet?” “Nothing to find. Rumor has it he’s just an absolute nobody, a corporate arrangement set up by the Hastings family.” “There’s no way she actually calls her fiancé, right? In front of the whole country?” Victoria looked down, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. She bit her lower lip, released it, and bit it again. Her gaze drifted toward Nate. Just for a second. Then she pulled it back. Nate chuckled softly. He reached out and gently tucked a stray hair behind her ear. Victoria’s shoulders shrank back the slightest bit, but she didn’t pull away. Thirty-seven million people watched that exact motion. Ryan instantly threw gasoline on the fire. “Tori, could it be that your ultimate crush is sitting right here with us?” Victoria took a deep breath and picked up her phone. The screen lit up. She scrolled to a single contact name. Alex. Just my name. No emojis, no profile picture, no special tags. I stared at the screen. The heavy scent of hickory smoke still lingered in my throat. Sizzling fat dripped onto the hot coals, and a bead of boiling grease popped, searing the back of my hand. I didn’t flinch. She pressed call. The phone in my pocket began to vibrate. 2 It rang exactly three times. I picked up. “Yeah.” My voice was blasted through the studio’s loudspeakers, echoing out to thirty-seven million listeners. Victoria pulled the phone slightly away from her face and put it on speaker. Ryan leaned in, his face glowing with pure gossip. “The mysterious fiancé! Ladies and gentlemen, this is the very first time the internet gets to hear his voice!” The chat went feral. “Okay but his voice is deep as hell.” “Who cares? A nice voice doesn’t pay the bills.” “The ultimate placeholder husband has logged on lmaooo.” Victoria cleared her throat. Her tone went completely flat, like she was reading the terms and conditions of a legal contract. “Alex. I’m filming a show right now. There’s a game segment where I need to borrow a hundred million. Can you figure something out?” Figure something out. Four words. Not do you have it. It was can you figure something out. Every single person watching caught the underlying message. He doesn’t have a hundred million dollars, but he needs to go scrape it together for her. Ryan laughed and pushed the knife deeper. “Tori, is this the man who makes your heart race?” A suffocating silence blanketed the set for one solid second. Victoria didn’t look at the camera. Her voice was ice-cold. “He is my fiancé. It was an arrangement made by the families.” She didn’t say yes. She didn’t say no. But everyone heard the real answer loud and clear. No. She quickly added, “A hundred million is definitely a bit out of his reach, but this is just a game anyway.” The comments flooded in like a broken dam. “Deadass crying right now. She has to call her crush for 100M, and she calls her broke fiancé who can’t even afford it.” “Did you see the way she looked at Nate? The chemistry is insane.” “Did she get this fiancé out of a cereal box?” “Girls, her heart is beating for the pop star, but she’s calling the hubby for cash. Iconic.” Nate sat beside her, smiling effortlessly. He picked up his wine glass and took a slow sip, completely relaxed. The dark red liquid caught the firelight, reflecting a fleeting flash of absolute triumph in his eyes. I stared at the screen of my phone. Thirty-seven million people were waiting for me to break. “Alright,” I said. “A hundred million, right? You got it.” I didn’t raise my voice. It was dead calm. The entire studio froze. Victoria froze. Ryan’s mouth hung open, his exaggerated expression completely glitching out. The chat took a full two seconds to process what just happened. “??? You got it? Just like that?” “The absolute flex. Man is dropping 100M like it’s pocket change.” “Capping so hard right now.” “Wake up buddy, it’s a hundred million, not a hundred bucks.” I ignored the internet’s meltdown. “Victoria Hastings,” I used her full name, pronouncing every single syllable with surgical precision. “When this broadcast is over, we need to talk.” Then I hung up. Call duration: forty-seven seconds. Victoria remained frozen, her phone screen already black, still holding it up to her ear. Nate let out a mocking snort. He tilted his head, swirling his wine. “Your fiancé is quite the character. Talks a really big game.” Ryan scrambled to save the segment. “Talk about tension! Well, viewers, whether or not that hundred million actually hits the bank account, we’ll just have to wait and see!” The comments detonated again. “I bet my life savings this Alex guy can’t even wire a thousand bucks.” “The most pathetic fiancé on the internet, confirmed.” “Tori needs to drop him and get with Nate right now!” I locked my phone and tossed it aside. The prime cut of meat on the grill had completely charred, sending up thick plumes of black smoke that stung my eyes. I picked up my secondary phone and pulled up a number with no name attached. Just a string of digits. Three years. I had lived in this city for three years and never dialed this number once. Today was the first time. I hit the button. It rang exactly once before it connected. “Young Master.” The voice was old, profoundly respectful, and trembling with a hint of shock. “Arthur,” I grabbed the blackened meat with tongs and dumped it into the trash, brushing the ash off my hands. “The Hastings Group. Every single line of funding connected to the Pierce family. Cut it.” “Credit lines, loan guarantees, venture investments, acquisition funds. Leave absolutely nothing.” “Right now. Immediately.” The other end of the line went dead silent for two seconds. “Young Master, if we execute that order, the Hastings Group will suffer a total cash flow collapse within forty-eight hours. Seventy-three percent of their liquid capital runs straight through the Pierce Capital pipelines.” “I know.” “Your grandfather and old Mr. Hastings were close friends for thirty years…” “Arthur,” I cut him off. “She stood in front of thirty-seven million people and called me a corporate arrangement.” The line fell silent again. Three seconds later, Arthur’s voice dropped, sharp and decisive like a blade sliding out of its sheath. “Understood. It will be fully executed within twenty minutes.” I hung up, walking over to the edge of the patio and gripping the iron railing. The biting wind sweeping off the Hudson blew away the last traces of hickory smoke. Across the water, the Manhattan skyline glowed brilliantly, twisting into the dark clouds like a serpent scaled in diamonds. Beneath that ocean of lights stood seven massive skyscrapers, twelve commercial hubs, and three entire financial blocks. Every single one of them had the name Pierce attached to the deed. Victoria truly believed her family was worth ten billion dollars. What she didn’t know was that out of that ten billion, seven point three billion was entirely propped up by Pierce money. She actually thought this marriage was just an “arrangement made by the families.” She was right about the arrangement. But it wasn’t the Hastings family calling the shots. It was my grandfather taking pity on her grandfather, throwing the Hastings family a lifeline to save them from ruin. There was only one condition attached to that lifeline: The Hastings’ granddaughter had to marry the Pierce’s grandson. Three years. I had stayed quietly in this waterfront estate. I didn’t get involved in the Pierce empire’s business, I never threw my family’s name around, and I never swiped the black card sitting in my drawer that had no spending limit. I did it all just to wait for Victoria to figure out her own feelings and come to me willingly. Well, she figured it out alright. She figured out she wanted to go on a dating show, blush at a boyband pretty boy, and tell the entire country I was nothing but a forced obligation. Fine. Then don’t blame me for tearing down the facade. 3 At 1:17 AM, Marcus, the Chief Financial Officer of the Hastings Group, was jolted awake by his phone. He glanced at the screen. It was an automated red-alert from the company’s internal risk management system. He answered, and a robotic AI voice began to list the casualties: “Critical Alert: Master account anomaly. Pierce Capital guarantee limit reduced to zero. Repeating: Pierce Capital guarantee limit reduced to zero. Associated credit contracts have triggered mandatory liquidation clauses. Immediate action required.” Marcus’s exhaustion vanished instantly. He threw off the blankets, flipped open his laptop, and hammered his password into the system. On the screen, lines of financial data were rapidly turning blood-red. Pierce Capital has withdrawn all joint letters of guarantee. Pierce Capital has terminated investment agreements (Codes PC-2024-0731 through PC-2025-0214, total of forty-seven contracts). Pierce Capital has frozen all Hastings Group corporate accounts operating through Pierce National Bank. Marcus’s fingers started to violently shake. He grabbed his phone and dialed a number. “Mr. Hastings! Sir! We have a catastrophic situation!” Richard Hastings’s voice groaned through the speaker, groggy and deeply irritated at being woken up. “It’s the middle of the night, Marcus. What the hell is it?” “Pierce Capital… they pulled everything! All guarantees, all credit lines, all investment capital. It’s completely severed!” The line went dead silent for five agonizing seconds. When Richard finally spoke, his voice sounded like someone was strangling him. “Say that to me one more time.” “Pierce Capital pulled out. Our master accounts are frozen. If we don’t secure alternative funding within forty-eight hours, our corporate cash flow snaps. Every single construction project halts. Mr. Hastings, we are dead in the water.” Richard hung up the phone. He sat on the edge of his mattress, clicking on the bedside lamp. The color drained from his face piece by piece until he looked like a corpse. Next to him, his wife Eleanor woke up, rubbing her eyes. “Who’s calling you at this hour…?” Richard didn’t answer. He frantically scrolled through his contacts, found the executive liaison for Pierce Capital, and hit dial. The number you have dialed is powered off. He called the Pierce Capital headquarters front desk. “We apologize, but Pierce Capital’s corporate relationship with Hastings Group has been officially terminated. For all future inquiries, please contact our legal department.” He made seventeen phone calls. Every single one gave him the exact same answer. Richard’s phone slipped out of his sweaty palm and slammed against the marble floor, a jagged crack splitting the screen. He stared blankly at the ceiling, his pupils dilating in pure terror. Pierce Capital. Pierce. Alex… Pierce. No. Impossible. That kid who spent his days lounging in a riverfront house, playing with his dogs and smoking meat on the grill? How could he possibly be tied to the apex predators of Pierce Capital? He was just a distant, broke relative of the Pierce family. Old Mr. Pierce had forced this marriage out of a misguided sense of charity. That was what Richard had always believed. For three whole years, that was the absolute truth in his mind. 4 I woke up the next morning feeling completely refreshed. My phone had over four hundred unread messages. Three hundred of them were just from Jaxon. I casually scrolled through the trending page. #VictoriaHastingsDatingShowDrama – 1.2 billion views. #WhoIsVictoriaFiance – 800 million views. #DidAlexSendThe100Million – 500 million views. I clicked into the threads. The comment sections were a unified wall of mockery. “It’s been twelve hours. Where’s the hundred mil? Did the bank pigeon get lost?” “Tori needs to cancel this engagement immediately. Why keep a broke loser who lies to save face?” “Nate and Tori are the endgame. This Alex guy is just a speedbump.” “Lmaooo the ultimate placeholder gets publicly cucked and says ‘you got it’. Got what? Got ghosted?” I put the phone down, brushed my teeth, boiled some water, and brewed a cup of black tea. Jaxon called. “Bro, are you okay?! The entire internet is dragging you through the mud! Did you look at Twitter?!” “I saw.” “Why aren’t you losing your mind?! Your girl is basically flirting with another dude on live television, and you hit them with a ‘you got it’?! Got what?! Do you even have a hundred million dollars?!” “I do.” “…How much do you actually have?” “A little more than a hundred million.” Jaxon went totally silent for ten seconds. “Alex, the heartbreak didn’t actually fry your brain, did it?” I didn’t answer, because another call was actively beeping through. Caller ID: Nate Alexander. I narrowed my eyes. I had never saved his number. How did he get mine? The answer was painfully obvious. Victoria gave it to him. I picked up. “Alex, right?” The voice on the other end carried a lazy, arrogant smirk. He spoke with the casual disrespect of someone looking down from a throne. “Did you catch the broadcast last night?” “I did.” “Then you should know that Tori is having a really great time on this show.” He intentionally called her Tori. Not Victoria. Not your fiancée. Tori. Like it was a pet name he had used a thousand times in private. “Did you really track down my number just to tell me that?” “No, I called because I wanted to give you a piece of advice.” Nate lowered his voice, acting like he was doing me a favor. “Bro, cancel the engagement. You’re out of her league. Don’t stress over the hundred million thing, I’ll cover it for her.” My fingers tightened around my teacup. The fine porcelain let out a faint, microscopic creak. “You’ll cover it?” “Yeah. It’s a hundred million. Pocket change. If you’re worried about looking bad on the internet, I can have my manager spin the narrative and say the money actually came from you. How about that? I’m giving you a way out.” The dark tea rippled in the cup, tiny waves crashing against the rim. “Nate,” I slowly placed the cup down on the marble counter. “Do you have any idea how Victoria’s ten-billion-dollar net worth actually exists?” The other end laughed. “Obviously. The Hastings Group. A top-ten corporation in New York.” “Then do you know where the Hastings Group gets its money?” Nate paused. For the very first time, a microscopic sliver of uncertainty bled into his voice. “What are you talking about?” “Nothing. I got your advice.” I hung up the phone. Finished my tea in one gulp. And opened my closet. Pushed all the way to the back was a custom-tailored, pitch-black suit. I hadn’t worn it in three years. On the inside of the collar, embedded into a dark metal button, was a flawlessly engraved letter: P. Today was the day I put it back on.

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1 I was rich, single, and very much enjoying it. To pass the time, I kept a poor but ridiculously pretty little songbird. The girl had a face, a body, and enough sweetness to make men stupid. The only flaw was that she was painfully shy. She insisted on playing some innocent romance game with me. I was not allowed to touch her. I was not allowed to visit her at school. Everything had to happen “properly.” I understood. She was young. Then one day, I went to her university to discuss funding a new lab. Her professor pointed from a distance at her and another guy, smiling proudly as he said they were his best students, the lab’s famous golden couple. I laughed. So it wasn’t that she was young and shy. She was afraid the boat would tip. Fine. I could change birds. After all, her senior looked much prettier than her. … I truly hadn’t seen this coming. The little songbird I had paid a fortune to keep called me “honey” so sweetly in private. Behind my back, not only did she have a boyfriend, she told people I was her obsessive, mentally unstable distant cousin. I hissed through my teeth. I had spent my whole life hunting hawks. Who knew one day I’d get pecked in the eye by one? The student showing me around the lab leaned closer with concern. “Mr. Whitaker, are you okay?” I shook my head. “I’m fine. I’m mentally unstable.” The student laughed awkwardly. Seeing my eyes still fixed on Nora Lee in the distance, he added a few more words. “Mr. Whitaker, Nora is pretty capable professionally. If not for her cousin, she might already be overseas for further study.” I lifted an eyebrow without showing much. “Oh? How so?” “Nora has this cursed cousin. The kind who supposedly brings bad luck to the whole family. Even his wife died. But Nora still cares about family, so she keeps in touch with him.” “During her video interview that day, he suddenly had an episode and demanded she come to him or he’d hurt himself. Nora had no choice and missed the interview.” I froze. Then I gave a cold laugh. I remembered that. At the time, Nora had told me she did not want to go abroad. I spent days trying to persuade her. She curled up in my arms, all pitiful and soft. “Honey, I don’t want to leave you.” My heart had softened. I thought girls these days were so clingy. When I still refused to give in, she turned away in a huff and asked if I no longer liked her, if I was trying to send her away. In the end, I spent several hundred thousand to cheer her up, bought her a car, and took her through a round of luxury boutiques. Now it seemed she was exactly like my late wife, whose portrait already hung on the wall. Not being able to leave me was fake. Using me, then making me carry the blame for things she did not want to do, was real. After leaving the lab building, I texted Nora. “Find time to move all your things out.” A paid arrangement was one thing. But she had turned it into some ugly little drama where I was forcing an innocent girl and she was hiding an entire second life. I did not need her that badly. I had just seen another girl who looked much better than her. Nora replied quickly. First confusion. Then panic. “Honey, what happened?” “Whatever it is, talk to me properly, okay?” “You promised you wouldn’t abandon me so easily.” I scoffed. When I started keeping her, I had indeed promised not to end things casually. But she never told me she was doing this behind her boyfriend’s back. No professional ethics as a kept woman. I put my phone away and wandered around campus alone. It was my first time at this university. I had always wanted to come. I had told Nora I wanted to see where she studied. But she had held my hand pitifully and said she was afraid people at school would gossip. So, at her request, I never came to find her. Even when I picked her up, I parked at the closest intersection outside campus. I thought she wanted to keep a low profile. Turns out she wanted to hide the fact that she was playing both sides. My phone kept buzzing nonstop. I had no interest in checking it. My eyes landed on a girl sitting on the edge of a flower bed not far away. I remembered her from the group that had shown me around earlier. She had disappeared after one glance. Meeting her again now? That was fate being very considerate. “Excuse me. Would you show me around campus?” 2 I vaguely remembered she was Nora’s senior. Clearly, she remembered me too. “Mr. Whitaker.” I raised an eyebrow. Everyone today had called me “Mr. Whitaker” in the business way, with a title and a bow in their tone. She said it like I was just a man. My gaze moved slowly from the red at the corners of her eyes to her soft lips. She seemed uneasy under my stare and coughed lightly. I smiled and sat beside her as if we were already familiar. “Are you sick?” She hummed softly. “A bit of a cold and fever. The professor told me to leave early.” Just enough concern entered my eyes. “How did that happen? Did you take medicine? Should I buy some now?” As I moved to stand, my sleeve was lightly tugged. Then released. She lifted her eyes and gave me a calm look. That look went straight to the exact place in my chest it had no business touching. I sat back down smoothly. “Mr. Whitaker, I’ve actually seen you before.” I quickly searched my memory for her face. Impossible. A face like hers would have left an impression. The girl smiled. “But you haven’t seen me.” “Last winter, I worked part-time at the North Ridge ski resort.” My eyes shifted. Last winter, Nora had told me pitifully that she had never gone skiing. I bought flights and booked a hotel that very night, taking her to North Ridge. So this girl had seen me with Nora? “I saw you teaching Nora how to ski. Later, I asked her who you were. She said you were her cousin.” “So, Mr. Whitaker, is your investment in the lab also for Nora?” I gave a cold laugh. Originally, yes. Nora had always complained to me that her advisor favored her senior. But now, I had changed my mind. I adjusted the glasses on my nose. When I lowered my hand, my fingers brushed hers as if by accident. That slender hand moved slightly. It did not pull away. I smiled and sat a little closer. “If you want, I can do it for you instead.” She turned her head and looked at me with amber eyes, unblinking. I paused for a moment, then slowly leaned in. She did not dodge. I tightened my hold on her hand. Still, she did not dodge. So I smiled and kissed the corner of her mouth. She remained quietly still, almost like an offering, except the red at the corners of her eyes deepened. I drew back a little, touched her trembling lashes with my fingertips, and smiled. “Let’s exchange numbers.” “I’ll wait for you to contact me.” Just as I finished speaking, hurried footsteps approached. By reflex, I pulled my hand away from hers. Though I might have imagined it, that hand seemed to hold my fingertips for the briefest instant, as if asking me to stay. “Honey, why are you here?” Nora looked at me strangely, then nervously at the girl beside me. “Senior, why are you here too?” I glanced at Nora’s pale, anxious face and deliberately said, “I had business here.” “You should’ve seen my message. Move your things out as soon as…” “Honey!” Nora loudly cut me off. She glanced at her senior and kept signaling at me with her eyes. “I’m sorry. I know I made you mad. Can we talk about it when we get back?” I frowned. Had I spoiled her so much that she had forgotten what my temper was really like? I was about to expose everything directly when the person beside me spoke softly. “Nora, he’s your cousin?” Nora inhaled and nodded quickly. “Yes, Senior. This is the cousin I always told you about, the one who treats me very well.” After saying that, she threw me a look as if asking for praise. I gave a cold laugh. If I had not known she described me at school as her obsessive, unstable distant cousin, I might have believed her. Just like I had believed the travel photos with me that she occasionally posted. But I did not refute her. Because I felt a cool finger lightly hook around my pinky at my side. The fire in my chest was doused like someone had poured ice water over it. It vanished instantly. I lifted an eyebrow and smiled in a much better mood. Nora thought she had fooled me and visibly relaxed. She said to the person still hooking my finger, “Senior, the professor is looking for you. You should go.” The woman beside me hummed and let go. But as she left, she looked at me and said softly, “Mr. Whitaker, my name is Iris Bell.” Iris Bell. I rolled the name over my tongue and rubbed my pinky with my thumb. Nora’s unhappy voice sounded beside me. “Honey!” I withdrew my gaze expressionlessly. She pouted, aggrieved. “Senior has a boyfriend. Don’t even think about it.” I laughed and glanced at her flushed face. “Oh? Then do you have a little boyfriend at school?” Nora’s eyes changed instantly. She frowned at me with suspicion. “Did Senior say something to you?” “Honey, don’t believe her.” “If I had a boyfriend, would I post so much about you online?” I waved my hand impatiently, about to speak. Her eyes reddened, and she attacked first. “Honey, is it because Senior is prettier than me that you told me to move everything out?” “I was wrong about you.” With that, she clutched her phone, glared at me, and ran off. I stood there watching her back, stunned. Then I laughed from anger. But I did not stay angry long. The moment I got into the car, I received two messages. One was from Nora. “Honey, I’m really angry this time. You’d better think about how to make it up to me.” Expressionless, I deleted her. The other was a friend request. “Mr. Whitaker, I’m Iris Bell.” My fingers tapped lightly on the steering wheel. Then I accepted. 3 Iris messaged quickly. “Mr. Whitaker, I’m different from Nora. I’m currently single.” I chuckled and answered with a question. “How did you get my contact information?” “I asked my advisor.” I rubbed my chin and typed. “My cat can do backflips. Would you like to come watch?” There was no reply for a long time. Just as I thought I had scared her off, one simple word appeared. “Okay.” I smiled, locked my phone, and drove off campus. Since someone new was coming, the old one needed to be cleaned out. I told my assistant to pack up everything related to Nora in my home and send it all to her school. Nora reacted fast, calling me from different numbers. She even started acting tragic. I handed a glass of juice to Iris, who stood by the floor-to-ceiling window. She accepted it and kept looking down. “Mr. Whitaker, Nora is standing downstairs in the rain.” “Is that really okay?” I did not look down once. Instead, my gaze kept circling the low collar of Iris’s T-shirt. “Should I let her come up, then?” Iris finally moved her eyes away from downstairs and looked back at me. I smiled, leaned closer, and reached behind her ear to pull the sheer curtain shut. “I’m only her obsessive distant cousin. I can’t control her.” Iris’s eyes trembled. She stood perfectly still as I kept moving closer. The instant before I kissed her, I turned my head and leaned to her ear. “Iris, the day I took Nora skiing, you saw me kiss her, didn’t you?” Just as I wanted, I heard her breath catch. Her warm breathing brushed constantly against my neck. I smiled. Over the past few days, I had repeatedly recalled the ski resort and finally dug out the faintest memory of Iris. In that memory, she wore a face covering and stood behind a tree, watching Nora and me from far away for a long time. Iris’s restrained voice sounded. “Mr. Whitaker, Nora isn’t right for you. She has a boyfriend, and she doesn’t like you.” I rested my chin lightly on her shoulder and smiled without answering. A hot little hand slowly settled on my waist. Iris’s voice grew hoarser. “I’m prettier than her. I’m better in the lab than her. Most importantly, I’ve never dated anyone. I can be completely loyal to you.” I laughed under my breath and wrapped an arm around her waist. Looking at her flushed face, I said softly, “All right. Let’s try.” And once we tried, we lost track of the world. Iris was smarter than Nora. She knew exactly what she wanted and learned quickly. Especially when that cool, elegant face showed shy restraint, it made a man’s heart itch. Outside, wind and rain raged. Inside, the air was warm and heated. When the doorbell rang, Iris was lazy in my arms, still catching her breath. Nora’s voice came faintly from the door, calling for me. Iris gave a short laugh. Her tongue shaped two soft words. “Honey.” That hoarse, warm voice softened my ears. I covered her trembling lashes with my hand and lowered my head to kiss her. Neither of us had any mind left for Nora at the door. The next morning, I walked out of the bedroom feeling refreshed. My phone was full of messages from unknown numbers. “Honey, do you really not want me anymore?” “Do you remember what you said when we first got together?” “You said even if we broke up, we’d end it peacefully and you’d arrange everything for me.” “But I stood in the rain all day yesterday, and you didn’t even come see me. Honey, you’re so cruel.” I drank some water and smiled mockingly. So that entire tragic performance was a reminder to pay her breakup fee. But why should I? As a sponsor, I had not only been cheated on, but my little bird had also described me outside as her obsessive older cousin. I had not even charged her emotional damages. A warm body hugged me from behind. Iris’s voice was almost too hoarse. “Honey, unhappy so early in the morning?” I relaxed into her arms and played with her fingers. “In a few days, I’m going to sign the lab agreement. You’ll be there, right?” Iris laughed softly. “Yes. The professor values this investment so much that he arranged a signing event. All his students will attend.” I understood. That meant Nora and her little boyfriend would be there too. I was very curious what expression she would make when she saw me, her obsessive cousin. The professor clearly valued this investment more than I had imagined. He not only applied to use the university’s small auditorium, but also invited reporters. I listened as he eagerly introduced his project. At the end, he introduced Iris beside him with emotion. “Mr. Whitaker, this is my proudest student. She missed your last visit because she was sick. I believe she apologized to you afterward?” Iris extended a hand with a perfectly serious face. “Mr. Whitaker, hello.” I looked at Iris and smiled. When I shook her hand, I scratched her palm lightly. Her face gave nothing away. But red spread from her ears down her neck. The professor led me into the venue while introducing his other students. Then I saw a familiar figure. The professor’s voice rang out. “Nora, Tyler.” “Let me introduce you to our investor.” That figure slowly turned around. I smiled at her with leisurely interest. Then I watched the bright smile on her face collapse inch by inch. At last, it became terror. My smile grew wider. The professor noticed something was wrong with Nora, and his tone grew hesitant. “…Nora, do you know Mr. Whitaker?” Nora looked at the professor in panic, guilt written all over her face. I watched her stammer for a long time without managing a sentence. Kindly, I helped her out. “Yes, Professor. I’m…”

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