Category: English

I decided to go all out and hide my pregnancy to join a reality dating show. I thought I could just openly flirt with some cute, younger guys on the show. But I never expected a certain someone to follow me there, corner me, and look at me with red eyes: “Whose child is it?” 1 Ethan and I got together because of an arranged marriage between our families. He was a famous, A-list actor in the entertainment industry, while I was just a D-list “flower vase” – someone with a pretty face but no acting skills, constantly plagued by scandals. Because of my looks, many actresses in the industry were jealous of me and secretly (and sometimes not-so-secretly) boycotted me. As a result, my reputation in the industry was never great. Ethan and I had a secret marriage. We kept things polite and respectful after tying the knot, but an unexpected accident led to us sleeping together once. And it was that very accident that somehow got me pregnant. Staring at the ultrasound report in my hand, I rubbed my eyes in disbelief. Was this guy’s aim really that good?! My hand rested on my stomach. Even though it was only a month along, knowing there was a baby inside me triggered a strange, wonderful shift in my mindset. I pulled out my phone, ready to share the news with Ethan, only to be bombarded by a massive wave of entertainment news notifications. #A-List Actress Audrey Hayes Returns, A-List Actor Ethan Carter Personally Picks Her Up From the Airport# #What a Perfect Match! Actor Ethan Carter and Actress Audrey Hayes Look So Good Together!# I clicked on the article and saw a photo of my husband, Ethan, walking side-by-side with a young woman. The woman was beautiful, with long hair cascading down her back and a gentle smile on her fair, delicate face. Countless netizens were commenting on how perfectly they matched and begging them to get together! I knew about Audrey Hayes. She and Ethan went to the same acting school, and many fans shipped them as a couple. Seeing this photo and the comments seriously pissed me off. I remembered Ethan’s public schedule. A business trip? So his so-called business trip was actually going to pick up another woman? Even though our relationship was mostly formal, that didn’t give him a free pass to betray me. Anger flared up inside me. Suddenly, my phone rang, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Hey? Sierra, there’s a small reality dating show, do you want to do it? I know it’s not a major production, but given our current situation, we can’t really afford to be picky…” My manager, Valerie, sounded like she was preparing for a long, arduous persuasion, afraid I’d refuse. But before she could finish, I cut in: “I’ll do it.” “Huh?” Valerie was stunned for a second. I repeated, “I’ll take it. A dating show sounds great, why wouldn’t I do it?” A smile crept onto my face, but it didn’t reach my eyes. I swiped away the tabloid news about Ethan on my screen and shoved the ultrasound report into my bag. 2 Valerie told me the dating show was scheduled to film for two weeks. I packed a few things and flew out to the production set with her. I heard there were going to be six cast members in total: three men and three women, and the whole thing would be live-streamed. To build hype, the production team hadn’t released the official cast list beforehand, meaning we wouldn’t know who else was on the show until we arrived on set. To make a good first impression, I arrived super early, thinking I’d be the first one there. Who knew that as soon as I showed up, a camera would be pointed right at me, followed by the director’s voice: “Let’s welcome our final cast member, Sierra!” Me: “…” I was inwardly sweating dropping, but outwardly, I raised my hand and gave a fake, overly-sweet wave to everyone. “Sierra’s face is literally everything! I love her!” “Ugh, so gross. She’s just a flower vase. What does she have besides a pretty face? Why did the show invite someone like her!” I have excellent eyesight, and I caught the live comments flying across the screen instantly. But my expression didn’t change. I was in the entertainment industry to build character, anyway. I walked into the small house the production team had prepared. There were six chairs, and five were already occupied. B-list heartthrob Liam Davis, whom I had acted with in a drama once, had that classic “golden retriever” boy-next-door look and two cute dimples when he smiled. Sweetheart idol Chloe Miller, who debuted from a survival show, was wearing a pink dress and a messy bun, looking incredibly sweet and approachable. Seeing these two, my expression remained neutral. But when I saw the three people sitting behind them, my eyes widened in shock. Top idol Noah Sterling was winking at me. Beside him was A-list actor Ethan Carter, and A-list actress Audrey Hayes. Wasn’t this supposed to be a small, B-tier dating show? What were these three doing here?! The moment I looked toward Ethan, I met a pair of dark, deep eyes filled with an unreadable emotion. Before I could examine his expression, a figure in white blocked my view. “Since everyone is here, let’s get started.” Audrey casually positioned herself right between Ethan and me. A gentle smile played on her lips. “Audrey is so beautiful! Her smile just melts my heart!” “If we’re talking about looks, I still think Sierra is a level above.” “Sierra is just a flower vase. Please don’t compare her to our Audrey, OK?!” I pulled my gaze away from Ethan and suppressed my shock. I still couldn’t understand why a top-tier actor like him would come on a small show like this. But then it hit me: Ethan was a married man, and he was on a dating show! With Audrey, no less! Were these two trying to date in plain sight?! My face darkened. 3 The grouping began, using a random draw. Noah ended up next to me. I heard him lower his voice and ask, “How have things been lately?” Although his voice wasn’t picked up by his mic, his actions were caught on camera. “Ahhh! What is Noah doing! Why is he talking to Sierra!” “That little bitch! I knew she was a master manipulator!” “Noah, stay away from that woman!” As a top idol, Noah had a massive fanbase of obsessive fangirls. The moment he approached me, the live chat exploded. “Why are you on this show?” I whispered back. “I saw you were doing it, so I tagged along. Sis, your husband sure knows how to play the game. Trying to get paid to date on national TV?” Noah winked at me exaggeratedly. I forgot to mention, my real name is Sierra Sterling, and Sierra is just my stage name. I rolled my eyes at Noah. That was obviously impossible. Ethan might have come on the show to date, but the person he wanted to date definitely wasn’t me. The draw started, and I prayed inwardly that I wouldn’t be paired with Ethan. But they say the more you try to avoid something, the more likely it is to happen. Liam and Chloe were paired up. Noah and Audrey were paired up. And Ethan and I… were paired together. “WTF! How is Ethan not paired with Audrey! I refuse to accept this draw!” “Oh my god, Ethan got paired with that flower vase Sierra? She must be thrilled to death!” I was standing closest to the monitor and saw the comments instantly. I already had this inexplicable anger pent up inside me, probably made worse by the pregnancy hormones. I couldn’t hold it back and snapped directly at the camera: “What do you mean I’d be thrilled to death to be paired with Ethan? Why don’t you say he would be thrilled to death to be paired with me?” As soon as I said that, not only the set but the entire live chat went dead silent. But a second later, an even more intense wave of comments flooded the screen. “Oh my god, is this woman telling a joke? Is she possessed?” “Sierra, do you even know the meaning of the word ‘shameless’?” “Being paired with you, Ethan is probably thinking he has the worst luck in the world. How could he possibly be thrilled?” “…” Just a quick glance at the screen showed a massive wave of insults directed at me. In the past, worried about my reputation, I would act carefully on camera, swallowing a lot of grievances. But now, after clapping back, I felt so much better. Whatever! I don’t rely on the entertainment industry to eat anyway. I’m just here for fun. If I can’t handle it anymore, I’ll just go home and inherit the family fortune! Besides, I’m pregnant now. Holding onto anger is terrible for pregnant women! Once I figured that out, I stopped caring entirely. But to my utter shock, a deep voice echoed my words: “Yes, I’m thrilled to death.” Not only was I stunned, but even the smile on Audrey’s face stiffened. I saw Ethan’s dark, deep eyes staring intently at me, a flicker of an unidentifiable emotion dancing within them. What the hell is this man doing! Before I could recover, I heard a soft, gentle whisper near my ear: “Ethan is still the same as always, stepping in to help people out of awkward situations.” I frowned. Audrey’s overly familiar use of his first name grated on my nerves. Who needs Ethan’s help! 4 After the draw, the directors started assigning tasks. To help the pairs build chemistry and bond, our housing and food would depend on completing tasks. The directors brought us to the edge of a wooded area. The first task was to collect firewood in the woods. The pair that collected the most firewood would get first pick of the houses. The time limit was one hour. When the timer started, I rushed into the woods. Ethan followed behind me at a leisurely pace. I didn’t want to talk to him, so I bent down and started gathering wood. However, mindful of my pregnancy, I didn’t dare move too vigorously or carry too much at once. “You go sit and rest. I’ll get it. It’s dirty out here.” As I was focusing on gathering wood, Ethan’s voice sounded right next to my ear. I straightened up and looked around. Liam and Chloe were working hard nearby. Noah’s team was just Noah working alone. Audrey was sitting on a rock admiring the scenery, showing no intention of getting her hands dirty. “Why isn’t Audrey helping? Why is she just sitting there?” “Gathering firewood is dirty work. Why should our Audrey have to do it?” “Didn’t our Audrey already say she wasn’t feeling well? What’s wrong with resting for a bit?” “The other two actresses are doing it, why can’t Audrey? Just watching Noah do all the work? So high-maintenance.” “If you’re going to participate, then participate. If you can’t, then leave.” I glanced at the live chat. Noah’s fans and Audrey’s fans were tearing each other apart. I glanced at Ethan and scoffed: “What? Want me to draw the fire away from Audrey?” This man was unbelievable! I never realized he was this awful before! Ethan: “?” I turned around, refusing to look at him, and went back to gathering wood. The outer edges of the woods were pretty picked over, so I gradually went deeper in. A rustling sound came from a bush ahead, and I instantly went on high alert. They say there are often wild animals in the woods… could it be a wolf or a bear or something? I looked around. I was the only one in this area. Ugh, I’m scared… Just as I was about to turn and run, a figure burst out of the bushes. “Sis!” Hearing that familiar voice, I jumped, then immediately let out a sigh of relief. I was about to speak when I saw Noah point at the microphone clipped to my shirt. I understood and turned it off. “Sis, here, take all of this.” Noah walked over and shoved all the firewood he had collected into my arms. “Huh? If you give it all to me, what are you going to do?” He was the only one working on his team. “I’ll be fine, sis. I can sleep anywhere. But my sister can’t rough it.” As Noah spoke, he winked at me and blew a kiss. His exaggerated expressions made him look incredibly campy. Knowing that the persona he maintained for his fans was that of a cool, aloof guy, seeing him act like this in front of me was too much. I couldn’t take it and just punched him in the arm: “Talk normally.” Noah howled and dropped the act. But he still insisted on giving me the firewood. Thinking about my brother working so hard while Audrey just sat there watching, I felt a surge of resentment. I didn’t try to give it back and accepted it. Time was almost up, so I headed back to base camp. The massive pile of wood in my arms drew everyone’s attention. The director gave me a close-up shot, and I wiped the sweat from my forehead with my sleeve. “Wow, I didn’t expect Sierra to be such a hard worker! With all that wood, she’s definitely getting first place!” “I thought Sierra was just a delicate flower vase, but it turns out… the real delicate flower is someone else.” “Hey, the commenter above me, we already said Audrey isn’t feeling well.” “I didn’t even mention your Audrey. Why are you getting so defensive?” “…” Noah also collected some wood on his way back, but not much. Audrey looked at me, then at him, her face looking a little displeased. She subconsciously asked, “Why did you only get this much?” That complaining tone instantly set off Noah’s fans in the live chat. “Does Audrey have no shame?! Complaining that our Noah didn’t get enough?” “Hahaha! She did absolutely nothing, and she has the nerve to complain about our Noah? Is Audrey a bitch or what?” The moment Audrey said it, she realized her mistake. She quickly tried to backpedal: “Noah, I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t mind what kind of house we stay in…” I rolled my eyes as I listened from the side. I looked around for Ethan and realized that at some point, he had also gathered a massive pile. I had what Noah gave me, but his was all gathered by himself, and it was more than Noah and mine combined. Unsurprisingly, our team took first place. Liam and Chloe took second, and Noah and Audrey took third. There were three types of houses. A nice little two-story house, a single-story ranch, and a small, rustic cabin. Since I was first, I got to choose the best one, so I picked the two-story house. Liam and Chloe chose the ranch. Noah and Audrey had no choice but to take the rustic cabin. That cabin had absolutely nothing inside except a single bed. In contrast, my two-story house had two beds. I naturally wasn’t going to let my brother sleep in the same bed as that woman. Just as I was about to tell Noah to come over tonight, I saw Audrey walk over to Ethan, her eyes brimming with tears. “Ethan, could you guys share a room with me tonight? I haven’t been feeling well lately, and that house is drafty. I’m afraid I’ll catch a cold.” Audrey coughed a few times as she spoke. My expression instantly turned icy when I heard Audrey’s words. If Ethan dared to agree today, I’d pack him up and throw him out! 5 “Sorry, I don’t have the authority to decide.” I was slightly surprised. Ethan actually refused? When I looked over at him, Ethan was already looking at me. I heard him say: “You can ask my partner.” Ethan actually told Audrey to ask me? I was stunned. Audrey’s hands, hanging by her sides, involuntarily clenched into fists. Her face went from pale to green. The public always said she and Ethan had a great relationship, and there were even rumors they were dating. Only Audrey knew that she and Ethan had no special relationship at all. Those rumors were just PR stunts she orchestrated herself. But she and Ethan went to the same acting school, and he had never publicly rejected her or embarrassed her. Now, he was blatantly slapping her in the face. Audrey adjusted her emotions, and I saw her walking toward me. Before she could speak, I quickly called out to Noah: “Noah, do you want to come stay in the two-story house with us tonight?” “Sure thing,” Noah agreed immediately. Audrey froze in her tracks. “Does Sierra have no shame! What is she trying to pull!” “Wow, what a move! Is she trying to keep Audrey from staying there?” “What’s wrong with Sierra? I think she’s great. This is a reward they earned. She can invite whoever she wants.” “Exactly, exactly. Inviting our Noah shows she has great taste. Some people do absolutely nothing and just want a free ride.” In the live chat, Audrey’s fans tried to attack me, but Noah’s fans completely shut them down. “I admit I was a little harsh on Sierra earlier, but looking at it now, she has great taste and knows how to choose.” Audrey’s manager had been monitoring the live chat the whole time. Seeing so many people attacking Audrey, he glared at her, shooting her a warning look. The situation was set. Audrey had no choice but to sleep in the rustic cabin by herself tonight. The next task was to obtain food. Having learned her lesson, Audrey knew she couldn’t just sit around anymore. Otherwise, she’d get roasted even worse. She had originally wanted to portray a delicate, untouchable, pampered persona, but she failed miserably, and her persona completely collapsed. Now, a lot of Noah’s fans were starting to hate Audrey. Noah was a top-tier idol at the peak of his career; he had a massive fanbase. 6 The production team was somewhat generous. The food-gathering task wasn’t too difficult, and we finished it quickly. Maybe it was because of the pregnancy and the exercise, but I was starving. After getting my food, I sat in a corner and started eating. A strong wave of perfume hit me, and Audrey sat down next to me. “Sierra,” she called my name. I couldn’t help it; I sneezed loudly. Audrey: “…” “What’s up?” I moved over a bit, putting some distance between me and Audrey. The smell was too strong; I couldn’t handle it. Audrey glanced at the microphone clipped to my shirt. Seeing it was turned off, she felt safe to speak: “Sierra, do you know what kind of family background Noah comes from?” Me: “?” “He’s the second son of the Sterling Group in New York,” Audrey said, her expression flat. “You should know the Sterling Group. Top-tier conglomerate in the city.” “Oh.” I didn’t understand what Audrey was getting at, but I nodded cluelessly. “Noah and Ethan. Neither of them is someone you can ever match. Be smart and stay far away from them from now on.” Me: “…???” I found Audrey’s words hilarious. This girl was really something else! “I hope you look out for yourself,” Audrey said, then stood up and walked away. Idiot. I rolled my eyes, ignored her, and went back to gnawing on my chicken drumstick. Night quietly fell. Noah got one room, which meant I’d be sleeping in the same room as Ethan tonight. The production team confiscated our phones, but they gave us one hour of phone time every day. After washing up, I lay in bed and started googling “precautions for pregnant women.” “What are you looking at?” Just as I was deeply engrossed in reading, a voice suddenly sounded from above my head. I jumped, frantically locking my phone screen. “You scared the crap out of me! Don’t you make any noise when you walk?” I patted my chest to calm my racing heart. I didn’t want to tell Ethan about the pregnancy just yet. Ethan produced a glass of milk from who knows where and handed it to me: “Drink this.” “Where did you get this?” Even though I ate quite a bit at dinner, I was starting to feel hungry again. Thinking about the baby in my stomach, I took the milk. After I finished it, Ethan handed me a tissue. “A villager gave it to us.” I nodded and went to brush my teeth before bed. Lying in bed, the camera in the room was covered by Ethan. I was originally feeling sleepy, but with Ethan lying next to me, my sleepiness suddenly vanished. My mind replayed the events of the day. Audrey had tried to get close to Ethan multiple times, but I saw Ethan completely ignore her every time. What was going on? Wasn’t Audrey Ethan’s “first love”? He literally lied about going on a business trip just to pick her up from the airport! Could it be that because I was here, Ethan felt awkward? That made sense. I suddenly let out a cold chuckle. Even if Ethan didn’t care about my feelings, he had to consider the reputation of our two families. “What are you laughing about in the middle of the night?” I heard Ethan’s voice suddenly cut through the darkness. “Mind your own business.” I rolled over, turning my back to Ethan, closed my eyes, and went to sleep. 7 Early the next morning. I slowly woke up, and as soon as I opened my eyes, I found myself staring at a smooth, fair chin. My eyes widened, and I let out a scream, accidentally headbutting Ethan right under his jaw. A muffled groan followed. I sat up and saw a look of pain on Ethan’s face. “Y-you shameless creep!” I pointed a finger at Ethan. “You’re taking advantage of me! Who told you to hold me while sleeping!” Ethan sat up too. I have to admit, to become a top-tier star, his looks really were undeniable. His messy bangs fell over his brow, and his dark, deep eyes stared at me. He rubbed his chin and said: “Are you sure I was holding you?” I frowned slightly, thought for a moment, and then a look of sheer embarrassment spread across my face. Earlier… it seemed I was the one pinning Ethan down. I’ve always been a restless sleeper. Normally, Ethan was busy, and sometimes he wasn’t home. But even when he was home, we slept in separate beds. I scratched my head and replied: “We’re an old married couple anyway. So what if I squished you a little?” I’ve never been one to lose an argument. After saying that, I didn’t dare look at Ethan’s expression and quickly scrambled out of bed. The production team had prepared breakfast. After we finished eating, they announced the task. Helping the villagers clean fish. Hearing the words “clean fish,” a vivid image flashed in my mind. Normally, I probably wouldn’t have thought much of it. But now that I was pregnant, just thinking about that scene made me want to gag. Ethan was the first to notice my reaction. He walked behind me and patted my back. “What’s wrong?” I was about to answer when I saw the director’s crew bring out the fish. The smell of raw fish hit my nostrils, cutting my words short as I doubled over, dry heaving again. The viewers in the live chat saw this and immediately started speculating. “What’s wrong with Sierra? That looks exactly like morning sickness.” “Is Sierra pregnant? Why else would the smell of fish make her throw up?” I saw Ethan narrowing his eyes at me. My heart skipped a beat. Just as I was trying to figure out how to explain, Audrey also started dry heaving nearby. “Ethan, ugh…” Audrey’s reaction was clearly much more dramatic than mine, the actually pregnant person. “Ethan, this smell is awful. I caught a chill last night, and the smell today is making my stomach turn.” Audrey, eyes red and brimming with tears, looked at Ethan, clearly waiting for him to come over and comfort her. But Ethan didn’t even spare her a glance. However, Audrey’s words gave me the perfect excuse. “I think I caught a chill last night too. My stomach is feeling really upset today.” “I’ll ask the production team for an extra blanket tonight.” Ethan suddenly reached out and felt my forehead. “Good thing you don’t have a fever.” I was startled by Ethan’s sudden touch. The live chat also went silent for a moment, and then the screen was flooded with comments. “Ahhhh! What did I just see! The Ice King just touched Sierra’s forehead!” “Isn’t this a dating show? Touching a forehead is normal interaction, right?” “Why didn’t Ethan touch Audrey’s forehead? Audrey said she wasn’t feeling well and he didn’t care, but he cared about Sierra.” “Commenter above, what’s your logic? The Ice King’s current partner is Sierra. Isn’t it completely normal for him to care about his own partner? Why should he care about Audrey?” “Aren’t the Ice King and Audrey universally acknowledged as a couple?” “??? When did the Ice King ever say he and Audrey were a couple? Please stop trying to force them together, thanks!” The live chat was going crazy, and it took me a moment to snap out of it. I saw Audrey looking at me like she wanted to eat me alive. I frowned, feeling annoyed. Ethan is clearly my husband. What the hell does that look mean? I let out a soft scoff, purposely putting on a delicate, whiny voice for Ethan: “Ethan, my stomach hurts so much. I don’t think I can clean fish later.” I threw Ethan a “you-know-what-I-mean” look. Honestly, I was a little nervous. I wasn’t sure if Ethan would reject me. But if he actually dared to reject me, he was dead meat. I heard Ethan give a soft “Mhm”: “I’ll do it. You rest on the side.” I let out a “hehe” and smiled. For Liam and Chloe’s team, Chloe also didn’t want to clean fish, and Liam told her to go rest on the side. When it came to Noah and Audrey, right before Audrey could speak, Noah’s voice carried over: “Audrey, the smell of this fish is making me feel sick too. You clean them.” With that, Noah shoved a large knife into Audrey’s hands and walked over to the side, crossing his legs casually. This move left not only Audrey dumbfounded, but the entire live chat as well. “Hahahaha! Oh my god! Noah’s move has me dying! Audrey is frozen.” “Is Noah being ungentlemanly? Why make Audrey clean the fish?” “What do you mean ungentlemanly? During the first task, your Audrey wasn’t feeling well and rested on the side while our Noah gathered all the firewood himself. Now our Noah isn’t feeling well and wants to rest. Why can’t your Audrey clean the fish?” “Audrey needs to stop being so high-maintenance.” Audrey’s fans were definitely no match for Noah’s obsessive fanbase. In no time, the entire live chat was spammed with “Audrey needs to stop being so high-maintenance,” making Audrey’s manager’s face turn darker than coal. Audrey was screaming internally, but Noah clearly wasn’t going to help. If Audrey didn’t do it, they probably really wouldn’t have any lunch. She had no choice but to resign herself to her fate, pick up the knife, and start cleaning fish. Audrey was wearing a white dress today, and in no time, it was stained with bright red blood. I have to say, I was reveling in her misery. I didn’t like her to begin with, so of course, I was going to enjoy this. I looked over at Ethan. He was wearing black clothes and had thrown a leather apron over himself. His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, displaying his muscular arms as he expertly chopped the fish without a hint of hesitation. As I watched, I let out a light cough. I was almost blinded by how hot this man looked.

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Five years ago, I stayed in Europe to study medicine just for him. He said he would wait for me, that he wouldn’t marry anyone else in this lifetime. Five years later, when I returned home with a treatment plan I had painstakingly researched, he was eating a rich cheese pastry fed to him by another woman. 1 Rowan Hayes had always been a quiet, aloof person. Partly because he was naturally introverted, and partly because he had suffered from a chronic illness since childhood, meaning intense emotional fluctuations were dangerous for him. Having grown up with him, I knew this better than anyone. So, when I saw the smile reaching his eyes as he looked at Lily Evans, a deep sense of unease settled in my chest. I hadn’t changed my flight to come home early just to watch this scene unfold. Rowan and Lily were sitting on a bench in the courtyard of his villa. Lily was holding a piece of cheese pastry right up to Rowan’s lips, looking eager. Though Rowan was frowning slightly, his body language showed no sign of pulling away. In fact, a faint smile was creeping onto his lips as he watched her playful, impulsive behavior. “Rowan.” I called out softly. One second he was opening his mouth to take a bite, and the next, he whipped his head around, staring at me in disbelief. His eyes overflowed with confusion, joy, shock, and a sliver of panic. “Harper!” Before I could even react, Rowan had crossed the distance and pulled me into a tight embrace. He leaned down, holding me tighter and tighter. I could feel his emotions rushing toward me like a flood. For five years, his embrace was what I had missed the most. The joy of our reunion momentarily took over, making me briefly forget the uncomfortable scene I had just witnessed. “Harper, it’s been five years. You’re finally back…” “I missed you so much I thought I’d go crazy!” Rowan’s voice was hoarse. Though his face rarely showed much emotion, the burning intensity in his eyes made me blush. He rarely got this worked up, but right now, the hands gripping my shoulders were trembling violently. “Yeah, I’m back.” Afraid he might lose control, I reached out and stroked the back of his hand to soothe him. I had to admit, I loved it when Rowan showed emotion because of me. Whenever he did, his love for me spilled over without reservation. But mild emotional fluctuations were fine; anything too intense, and I worried it would trigger his illness. As Rowan and I gazed deeply at each other, lost in the moment, I finally noticed Lily. She had stood up from the bench and walked over to stand beside him. I was instantly reminded of their intimate interaction just moments ago. “Rowan, who is this?” It was only when I asked the question that I realized the woman standing in front of me looked incredibly similar to me. So similar, in fact, that even I might have mistaken her for my own sister at first glance. It clicked instantly. During the five years I was gone, Rowan had found a knockoff to keep him company. The atmosphere instantly dropped below freezing. Rowan seemed to realize that letting me see Lily wasn’t a good thing. He shot me a panicked look but still opened his mouth to explain. “Harper, her name is Lily Evans. She’s a pre-med student at State University. A student I sponsored three years ago.” Three years ago? Now that he mentioned it, I had a vague memory of it. He had brought it up in passing during a FaceTime call back then. But he never mentioned that this Lily Evans looked so much like me. “You sponsor a student, and now she’s sponsored all the way into your house?” My tone was entirely flat, but a heavy stone was definitely lodging itself in my chest. “It’s not like that, Harper…” Rowan was visibly panicking. He grabbed my hand to explain, “She just came to drop something off today.” I glanced at the open box on the patio table. Several individually wrapped pastries were scattered around it. “Yes… because my paper won an award, my professor gave them to me. Please don’t misunderstand.” Lily kept her head down, seemingly afraid to look at me, but she still stammered out an explanation. “I’ve never had this kind of pastry before, and I figured Mr. Hayes probably hadn’t either, so I brought them over as a small thank-you gift…” Her voice got quieter and quieter until I couldn’t hear the rest. Rowan was the CEO of a publicly traded company. Who in their right mind would think there was an expensive pastry out there he hadn’t seen before? “Harper, it’s true. I wouldn’t lie to you.” Rowan lowered his eyes. Paired with his sharp, aristocratic nose, he really was handsome. Sweat was pooling in his palms as he held my hand; I could tell he was incredibly tense. I didn’t want to put too much strain on his heart. “Alright, I believe you.” I forced a relaxed smile. “But Rowan, you should avoid eating high-cholesterol foods like cheese pastries. Your condition has finally stabilized a bit these past few years. I don’t want you getting sick again.” Seeing that I wasn’t angry, the tension between Rowan’s brows finally smoothed out. He turned to look at Lily. A complex emotion flashed through his eyes, but he quickly returned to normal, using the cold tone he reserved for outsiders. “It’s getting late. You can go back now.” Lily’s head snapped up. She looked at him in disbelief, her expression slowly shifting to crushing disappointment. “But the pastries…” “Miss Evans, what’s your specialty at the medical university?” Hearing my random question, both of them looked at me in confusion. Lily pressed her lips together and whispered, “Cardiology.” “Then you should know that patients with IPAH shouldn’t consume foods high in cholesterol, right?” Lily stared at me blankly for a moment before something seemed to click. Looking utterly defeated, she turned back to pack up the pastries on the table, putting them in her bag one by one. “I’m sorry… I’ll take my leave now.” As she brushed past me, I noticed her lift a hand to wipe away tears. Winning an award for a paper, yet not even knowing that IPAH patients can’t eat high-cholesterol foods? The academic standards at State University really seemed to be slipping. “Rowan, since I’m back this time…” I was just about to tell him that I had fully graduated and didn’t need to leave again. But when I looked up, I saw him staring blankly in the direction Lily had gone. My heart sank. I didn’t finish my sentence. I grabbed the handle of my suitcase and walked straight into the house. When Rowan snapped out of it and realized I was already walking ahead, he recognized his slip-up. Looking guilty, he rushed forward and grabbed my suitcase. “Harper, let me get that!” I didn’t fight him for it. The suitcase wasn’t that heavy anyway. We walked into the house in silence, right up until the housekeeper, Maria, greeted us at the door with a beaming smile. She didn’t know what had just transpired outside in those few short minutes, but she could probably guess who it was about. Because there was no way I believed Lily had only come to the Hayes estate today. Today’s little drama was quite the “surprise” to come home to. 2 “Harper, what happened today wasn’t what you thought.” During dinner that evening, Rowan was the first to break the silence. “She really is just a student I sponsored. That’s all.” Rowan looked up at me, his eyes pleading. “Please don’t be angry because of her, okay?” “What’s with her face?” I asked. “I leave home for five years, and when I come back, I find you two acting intimately, sharing food. And it was food I explicitly warned you not to eat. Do you expect me not to be mad?” My tone was harsh. It was then that Rowan realized I wasn’t just throwing a petty tantrum. Panic seized him, and after a long moment, he leaned over and grasped my wrist. “Harper, I admit, I sponsored her through college because she looks so much like you. I didn’t tell you because I was afraid you’d overthink it. But there is absolutely nothing going on between Lily and me.” “Rowan, let me ask you something. If I hadn’t spoken up to stop you today, would you have eaten that pastry from her hand?” I stared stubbornly into his eyes. His eyes were as dark as ink; anyone looking into them would be involuntarily drawn in. But looking at them now, I just wanted to cry. Hearing my voice crack, Rowan’s expression finally broke. His eyes filled with heartache as he pulled me into his arms. “I’m so sorry, Harper. I was wrong. Please don’t cry, okay…” “You’re unbelievable, Rowan. Who do you think I went to Europe for? Who do you think I went to medical school for? Do you know how hard med school is? And what’s the first thing I see when I get back! I see you eating some cheap pastry she gave you…” He coaxed me softly in my ear, but I was like a broken dam. The tears wouldn’t stop flowing. It was as if I wanted to pour out all the grievances of the last five years at once. Rowan clumsily tried to kiss me, but I pushed him away. He resorted to gently wiping my tears with his thumbs. This was the tenderness he never showed anyone else, a tenderness that belonged only to me. I don’t know how long I cried. I cried until I was dizzy, and Rowan carried me to the bathroom to wash my face, then laid me down on the soft bed. “Harper…” Rowan propped himself up to kiss me. I caught the faint scent of cedarwood on him. It was intoxicating. “Rowan…” I pushed against his chest as he leaned in. “Are you thinking about something you shouldn’t be?” “…” Rowan’s ears instantly turned bright red, and he turned his head away, too embarrassed to look at me. But that put my mind at ease. He was still the same Rowan. The Rowan who looked cold and arrogant to the world, but turned into a blushing mess whenever it came to me. I looped my arms around his neck and kissed him gently. What I got in return was a deep kiss that was anything but hesitant. It had been five years. We had both waited too long for this day. After that, we didn’t bring up Lily Evans again. We settled into the Hayes estate, picking up the life we had planned five years ago. Unfortunately, the peaceful days didn’t last long. Not long after I started my residency at the city hospital, Rowan’s old symptoms suddenly flared up. Shortness of breath, tachycardia. He collapsed in the underground parking lot of his company. When he was rushed to the hospital, I was in the middle of a heated debate at a medical conference with a senior professor. By the time the conference ended in the afternoon, I finally heard that an emergency patient had been brought in that morning. However, the first person I saw wasn’t Rowan in his hospital bed, but Lily Evans, pacing anxiously outside his room. Hearing my footsteps, she looked over joyfully, but when she realized it was me, the light in her eyes died. I had to admit, seeing her face was still jarring. It was like looking into a blurred mirror. But I didn’t have time to deal with her right now. I walked past her straight into the room. Nurse Sarah was monitoring Rowan’s blood pressure. “Dr. Brooks…” “How is the patient? Has he regained consciousness since he was brought in this morning?” I asked. “Not yet. But after putting him on oxygen, his blood pressure and oxygen saturation have returned to normal.” Looking at Rowan lying in the hospital bed with an oxygen mask, my heart ached terribly. “He’s stable for now. You can go back to your duties, Sarah. I’ll take care of him here.” I gave her a faint smile. Sarah nodded, but before leaving, she hesitated and glanced at me. “Is there a problem?” Was there another symptom they hadn’t told me about? “Dr. Brooks, I know it’s not my place, but that girl at the door has been standing there for a long time. Is she your sister?” I subconsciously looked toward the door. Sure enough, Lily was still standing there. Who exactly was keeping her from coming in? I smiled bitterly and shook my head. Sarah didn’t ask any more questions and left. Rowan lay on the bed. Even though his vitals were stable, he just wouldn’t wake up. It reminded me of a rainy night six years ago when Rowan had collapsed without warning just like this. That was when I first learned about Idiopathic Pulmonary Arterial Hypertension (IPAH). There was no absolute cure for it, which was why I made the firm decision to go to Switzerland, where some of the most advanced research on the disease was happening. “Didn’t I tell you to leave? Why are you still standing here like a pole?” “Mr. Miller, please just let me go in and see him. I’m really worried about him…” “Worried my ass. Who do you think you are? Get lost, go on, shoo! You’re blocking the doorway!” “Mr. Miller…” “Stop yelling! This is a hospital ward. Take it outside…” Hearing the commotion, I walked over and saw Lily arguing with a man holding a bouquet and a fruit basket. “Harper Brooks?” The man’s shocked voice made me turn to look at him. Thick eyebrows, big eyes, dyed blonde hair, wearing a black jacket covered in straps and chains. That flashy, avant-garde style, combined with that face… “Chase… Chase Miller?” “Ha! You remember! Five years and I thought you forgot about me! When did you get back? I bumped into Rowan passed out in the parking lot this morning and brought him in. Anyway, how is he? Is he awake?” His rapid-fire questions almost transported me back to our exhausting high school days. I smiled helplessly and stepped aside to let him in. “Go see for yourself…” I said. “Miss Brooks, please let me in too. Just one look at Mr. Hayes, just one… I’m so worried…” Before Chase could respond, Lily grabbed my arm. Her eyes were filled with tears as she begged, drawing the attention of passing patients and nurses. Lily was pretty (I mean, not to be narcissistic). Even though we looked alike, she possessed a pitiful, fragile aura that I completely lacked. Crying like that, it made it look as though I was the cold-hearted villain bullying her. “Tsk, what is wrong with you?” Chase said. “You’re not family, you’re not a friend. Why should we let you visit? Besides, aren’t you a student? Rowan pays for your tuition, and you skip a whole day of classes on his dime? Get out of here. If you hang around any longer, it’ll be dark, your dorm will be locked, and you won’t even be able to get back!” Chase’s rapid-fire delivery and sharp tongue made me wonder if he shouldn’t have majored in debate instead of art. Lily’s face turned beet red. Faced with his humiliation, she fought hard to keep her tears from falling. Chase shot me a triumphant smirk. I shook my head helplessly. “Har… Harper…” Rowan’s weak voice came from the hospital room. I immediately rushed back inside. Rowan was awake. He looked around in confusion until he saw me, then realized what had happened. “Did I have another episode?” A bitter smile touched his lips. My heart throbbed with pain. I lowered my eyes, trying to hide the tears welling up. “It’s okay. You’ll be fine,” I comforted him, though I was also comforting myself. “Alright, he’s awake. You can stop worrying now. Hurry up and leave, do you have zero situational awareness?” Chase’s voice drifted in from the hallway, followed by the sound of Lily walking away, sobbing. “What’s going on outside?” Rowan asked. “It’s Chase. He’s the one who brought you to the hospital,” I paused. “And Lily Evans.” Rowan didn’t say anything else, but the fleeting look of emotion in his eyes still stung me. It seemed this matter was far from over. 3 “How is Rowan doing? Why did he suddenly have an episode?” Shortly after waking up, Rowan fell back asleep. Chase pulled me out into the hallway and asked quietly. “There’s still no case of his disease being completely cured,” I sighed. “With current medical technology, we can only rely on medication to stabilize his condition… When you found him, was there anyone else with him?” Chase hesitated, looking at me as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t. “Lily Evans?” He nodded. I knew it. “Uh, but don’t overthink it. She’s been staking out his office building for a long time. She just happened to catch him today.” “You’re really good at making excuses for your bro,” I complained, feigning anger. Chase panicked. “Tsk, I’m definitely on your side! Didn’t you see me roast that Lily girl until she was speechless just now?” The image of Chase arguing with our high school principal suddenly popped into my head. I laughed. “Alright, seriously though, thank you so much for today. I owe you a dinner.” Chase grinned, scratching his head awkwardly. “It was nothing… but since you’re offering, I won’t say no!” I waved at him helplessly as he left. However, just as I saw Chase off and turned to head back to the room, I saw Lily standing pitifully off to the side. Didn’t she leave? She really pulled a fast one on me. “Do you need something?” I asked her expressionlessly. “Miss Brooks…” Lily’s eyes were red, like a rabbit’s. “I’m sorry.” “Sorry for what?” “I…” Like someone who had been holding back grievances for a long time and finally snapped, Lily suddenly covered her face and burst into loud sobs. “It’s all my fault. I said things that upset Mr. Hayes. I made him sick. If it weren’t for me… if it weren’t for me, he wouldn’t have collapsed… It’s all my fault…” My mind went completely blank. “What did you say to him?” I tried my best to suppress my emotions, not wanting her to notice anything off about me. Lily rubbed her red eyes. “I came today to say goodbye to Mr. Hayes. I wanted to go back to my hometown. My relatives found a pretty good match for me to marry, and then… he got so angry he yelled at me, and then he collapsed from the stress…” I didn’t know what to say for a moment. In my memory, Rowan rarely got sick because of emotional fluctuations. “Miss Evans, you don’t need to cry.” I smiled faintly. “Rowan probably had an episode because he inhaled fumes. It was an underground parking garage, after all. There’s a lot of exhaust. “But Miss Evans, what you said is infuriating. Rowan sponsored your education for so many years, and you want to drop out to go back and get married? Isn’t that making all his efforts a waste? You should focus on your studies and not let us down.” Probably not expecting such a calm reaction from me, Lily looked up, staring at me in shock. I put on a look of concern. “Is it your relatives forcing you to go back and get married? Do you need me to introduce you to a lawyer?” Lily froze for a moment, then forced a smile. “No, no need.” I didn’t say anything more to her and turned back into the hospital room. Rowan was still sleeping, his breathing even. But I felt like I was suffocating. I had never doubted Rowan’s feelings for me. After all, we had known each other for twenty-two years. We were childhood sweethearts, having met when we were four. In my memory, before he turned seventeen, Rowan didn’t like smiling at others, and he never smiled at me. I figured back then, to him, I was probably just the daughter of his father’s friend. Even though we had been in the same classes since elementary school, we rarely actually spoke. When Rowan was seventeen, disaster struck his family. His father was reported for financial fraud. Shareholders pulled their investments overnight, the company was shut down and investigated, and his business partners absconded with the funds. The Hayes Corporation became the target of public outrage. Added to the cash flow problems, the Hayes family went bankrupt. At the time, Rowan’s mother had already been in the hospital for over a year due to health issues. Neither father nor son told her what happened. In the end, his father sold their house at a heavy discount just to scrape together enough money for her surgery. But when you’re at your lowest, tragedies tend to pile on. Rowan’s mother made it off the operating table safely, but died of sudden cardiac arrest shortly after. It was a common surgical risk; no one was to blame for the tragedy. But the sorrow didn’t end there. The night his mother died, another body appeared below the Hayes Corporation building. His father had jumped. By the time my family rushed over, Rowan was standing in the morgue, staring blankly at the bodies of his parents. My father stepped forward and held him tightly; my mother pulled me close, crying uncontrollably. At the funeral, Rowan didn’t cry. Like always, he was just silent, watching the friends and relatives who came to pay their respects with no joy and no sorrow. The few friends his father had when he was alive didn’t show up. Although they claimed they were tied up with business, I knew they were just afraid of getting involved in the mess. Despite the large number of relatives, not a single one offered to take in a seventeen-year-old Rowan. We couldn’t bear to let him go back to that shabby rented apartment. Rowan was in a daze, like a walking corpse. He slept quietly in our guest room that night. My father said, if they won’t raise Rowan, I will. And just like that, Rowan stayed at our house. He still went to school and came home like usual. His grades were always at the top of the class, and he had an ever-growing list of admirers. He was as normal as could be, but I always felt that the more normal he acted, the more he was suppressing his true emotions. I figured our house wasn’t where Rowan truly wanted to be. My father seemed to notice this too. One day, he suddenly placed the keys to the Hayes family villa in front of Rowan. A flicker of emotion finally crossed his deadened face. He nodded, said thank you, took the keys, and left our house. I knew my father was good to Rowan mostly to repay the debt of gratitude he owed Rowan’s father for giving him his start. But now, he truly cared for the boy from the bottom of his heart. After Rowan moved back into the Hayes house, he stopped going to school. He locked himself inside all day. Even when I went to drop off food, I could only leave it at the door. But days passed, and the food at the door remained untouched. I suspected he was having suicidal thoughts. “Rowan! Rowan!” After losing count of how many times I failed to see him, I had no choice but to bang loudly on the floor-to-ceiling windows of the balcony. No one answered. Finally, I smashed a hole in the glass with a rock, stuck my arm in, unlocked the door, and went inside. Probably hearing the noise, Rowan finally came downstairs. He was wearing dirty clothes, enveloped in a cloud of gloom. He was much thinner than the last time I saw him, and a fine stubble covered his chin. Although it was a false alarm, I was still furious. But before I could blow up, he grabbed me and dragged me toward the bedroom. “What are you doing! I’m going to scream!” I struggled in terror, but Rowan was tall and strong, and he literally dragged me all the way into the bedroom. It’s over, I thought. Rowan’s suppressed his feelings for too long, he’s finally lost his mind. However, what awaited me wasn’t the horrifying scene I had imagined, but a shallow stinging sensation on the back of my hand. Only then did I realize that the back of my hand had been cut by the glass at some point. Rowan carefully disinfected my wound with a cotton swab. His clumsy yet gentle demeanor was as if he were handling a fragile, precious treasure. It was right then that I realized I had a bit of a crush on him. Later, I talked to him a lot. I told him he could stay home alone, and he didn’t have to go to school, but he absolutely had to eat properly. I also told him that as long as he said he was sad, I would come over and stay with him until he was ready to face the world again. That was the first time I saw Rowan smile, and also the first time I saw him cry like a child. Later, when the investigation into his father’s case concluded, it was proven that the rumors were malicious lies. The rumor mongers were arrested, but Rowan’s parents were never coming back. It was also that day I learned Rowan had IPAH. He was rushed to the ER, and I was so terrified he would go in and never come out, just like his mother. Thankfully, he was okay. It was also from then on that I secretly changed my college major. It was precisely because we had been through so much together that I had absolute confidence in our relationship. I never imagined another woman appearing by Rowan’s side, much less that he would care excessively about any woman other than me. But these five years seemed to have changed too much. I was beginning to doubt. A man I was afraid to even argue with because of his health had actually been hospitalized out of anger over another woman. 4 Rowan slept until early the next morning. I had a nurse arrange some tests for him. As long as there were no major issues, he could be discharged. I sat on a stool watching Rowan. He stared out the window, his brows furrowed slightly, lost in thought. “Rowan, after you fell asleep yesterday, Lily Evans came by.” Actually, she had never left. Rowan shot me a quick glance, then asked calmly, “Did she say anything?” “She said thank you for all your help, and that she’s going home to get married.” “Cough, cough…” Rowan clutched his chest and started coughing. Normally, I would rush forward to coddle him, but now, I figured a few coughs wouldn’t kill him. After all, he’d already passed out for her. “How is that possible…” Rowan muttered to himself. “Why wouldn’t it be possible?” I fired back instantly: “Do you know her that well?” “Harper…” Rowan looked at me, his face pale. “Do you really want to talk about this right now?” “Fine, we won’t talk about it. You’re sick, after all.” I didn’t want to bother with him anymore. I pulled off the pulse oximeter and turned to leave. For whatever reason, Rowan grabbed my hand. “Ever since she left the house that time, she’s been coming to the company a lot. Every time, I’ve had my assistant turn her away. I just didn’t expect her to follow me to the parking lot yesterday, and even say she wanted to…” He didn’t finish the sentence. I turned to look at him, and he looked back at me, lost. “She said she wanted to get married, and you were so furious you passed out.” I couldn’t help but find it funny. “Rowan, just admit it. “In the three years you’ve known her, you wavered.” I shook off his hand and ignored his calls, told the nurses outside to keep an eye on him, and went back to my office. Before returning to the States, I never imagined that I’d come home to face Rowan’s infidelity. Those five years of sleepless nights and relentless studying felt like a complete joke. I moved out of the Hayes estate. At first, he stood outside my door saying a lot of sweet things, bringing up all our memories from high school. Listening to him, apart from sadness, I just felt a heavy weight on my heart. He knew our best memories were from back then. But the more he made me reminisce, the more lost I felt. Later, when he realized I wasn’t just throwing a tantrum, he panicked. He started apologizing constantly, promising he would cut all ties with Lily, that he would never let her appear in front of me again, let alone near our lives. My parents thought that since Rowan had admitted his mistake, and since nothing physical had actually happened with Lily, I should forgive him for the sake of our twenty years of history. But how many times had I woken up in the middle of the night, the image of Rowan smiling tenderly at Lily flashing in my mind? His smile was no longer exclusively mine, and his heart was slowly shifting away. I really did love him hopelessly. Being able to endure five years in a foreign country was entirely because of him. But now, I was starting to doubt. I was doubting if it was all worth it. “Harper, today is your birthday. Can we please just see each other?” After many days, Rowan’s voice had grown hoarse. He knocked on the door outside, but I ignored him. “Okay… if you ever want to see me, just call. I have something I want to tell you too…” Rowan’s desolate voice drifted in, followed by the sound of his heavy, retreating footsteps. I wiped away the dried tear tracks on my face, ready to pull myself together, when I received a text. It was from Chase. Ever since I went abroad, I hadn’t had much contact with my old high school friend. Even when I did get news, it was through Rowan telling me how Chase was doing. That familiar chat box blinked on my screen. “Happy Birthday, Miss Brooks!” Followed immediately by another text. “When are you cashing in on that dinner you owe me? I’ve already picked out a super expensive restaurant ι(｀?-?′)/” His use of emoticons was so spot-on it gave me intense déjà vu. I replied: “Let’s do today then. Are you free?” Chase replied instantly: “? For real?” Me: “For real, but if you’re too slow, this lady won’t wait around.” This time, he didn’t reply for a long time. By the time I got another message, he had already parked his car outside my door. Still rocking that eye-catching blonde hair and edgy, loud clothes. Seeing me, Chase lowered his sunglasses and gave me a cocky eyebrow raise: “Get in. I’m taking you out for a good time!” “Humph.” I sniffled slightly, opened the door, and got in. The car smelled faintly of paint. “I think I’m taking you out for a good time, okay?” “Alright, alright, Miss Brooks. You’re the boss. Where to?” Chase tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, seemingly in a great mood. For some reason, seeing Chase like this made me feel incredibly at ease. So much had changed in the last five years, but Chase was still the same carefree guy he had always been. “Pfft—” “What are you laughing at?” Chase looked at me laughing uncontrollably, completely bewildered. “Nothing… let’s go eat.” I said excitedly. “Let’s go somewhere with a huge menu!” “A huge menu?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “411843”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When I got home from work, I noticed one of the spare keys on the table was missing. I asked my husband Ethan about it. He said he’d lost it. In the shower, I spotted a strand of hair stuck to the drain. Long, curly, wine-red. My hair was short. Soon after, I received a message on my phone. It was from Vivian, Ethan’s newly hired assistant. “Aria, Ethan gave me a spare key the other day. He said it was for convenience.” I didn’t respond. The next day, I changed the locks. Then I posted a message in the company’s group chat. “Locks have been changed. If Vivian wants a new key, she can come find me.” The moment Ethan got home, his face darkened. “Aria Summers, have you lost your mind? What nonsense are you spouting in the company group? Do you know what people are saying about her?” I set down the soup. Looking straight at him, I asked, “Then why did you lie about losing the key?” He froze. After a long pause, he sighed, his voice softening slightly. “Vivian is my assistant. Giving her a key was just for convenience. I lied because I was worried you’d overthink things. Did you really need to react like this?” I was silent for a few seconds, my voice hoarse. “Should I just give her all the keys then?” “Aria Summers!” Ethan raised his voice impatiently. “Vivian left crying this afternoon. She and I are just normal colleagues. Can you stop being so paranoid?” “Then how do you explain the overlapping handprints on the shower wall?” “What handprints?” I grabbed his arm and pulled him into the bathroom, pointing at the wall where the handprints should be. But there was nothing there. Ethan immediately shook me off and snorted coldly. “I don’t want to fight with you, but this better not happen again! Go reflect on yourself.” Then he kicked me out of the group chat. A new notification popped up on my screen, showing that I, the administrative assistant, had been terminated. The grayed-out group number and the termination notice. Like two heavy slaps across my face, leaving it burning. The fragrance of soup drifted from the kitchen into my nostrils. Suddenly, it didn’t smell good anymore.

Seven years. I hadn’t waited for his proposal yet, but I’d waited for him to publicly defend someone else. It reminded me of the year my father jumped off a building and my mother left. He had held me then, his eyes red, voice low and fierce. “Aria, listen to me. Even if the whole world abandons you, you still have me. If I can’t do surgery, I can still be a pharmaceutical rep. I can give you a home, a balcony for growing flowers. You plant azaleas, I’ll grow succulents, and we’ll have lots and lots of children…” My heart had ached with tenderness then. I couldn’t refuse Ethan, who had ruined his hands saving me in a car accident, losing his ability to hold a scalpel, yet still making me promises. I stayed. From a tenth-level pianist to a nanny who racked her brains to take care of him. Massages, cooking soup, arranging daily life—my entire existence revolved around Ethan. My mom couldn’t understand. “Is it worth giving up your life’s dream for him?” I had answered with certainty. But now, looking at Ethan’s still-handsome face under the warm lights, growing increasingly cold and distant, I realized I’d been wrong. Ethan and I fell into a cold war. He stopped coming home, and I had the housekeeper continue delivering his meals as usual. Vivian’s social media posts became increasingly frequent. Like the Pikachu slippers that appeared outside Ethan’s usual break room. Not my size. Not his style either. Like the new soup bowl Ethan was using, in a pink he would never choose. In the photo, they shared one bowl of soup, smiling at each other. Vivian’s caption read, “Drinking love soup with the one I love. Some old things are destined to exit the stage.” But I’d spent four hours making that soup. The discarded bowl was from the matching couple’s set I’d given him seven years ago. In the comments, someone teased, “Did Ethan switch girlfriends? Better than the previous one, they look more compatible.” Ethan didn’t deny it. Instead, he liked the comment. The lighting was warm and yellow. The heating was on full blast. Yet I felt bone-chillingly cold. Because of Ethan’s casual like, my seven years of giving everything were just “old things” in others’ eyes and “the previous one” in his. With a ding, Vivian tagged me in a post. “Sorry, Aria. Last time I accidentally got my clothes dirty and borrowed your bathroom. I apologize. Please don’t make things difficult for Ethan because of this.” “Ethan said he’s already added my fingerprint to the system, so I don’t need to get keys from you anymore…” Followed by a smug emoji. She had every reason to be smug. Apologizing on the surface while secretly telling everyone that Ethan was on her side. An acquaintance defended me. “Is this an apology or marking territory? Ethan, aren’t you going to do something about this?” “Do what? Can’t you see Mrs. Blake is about to be replaced?” The comment section erupted. Ethan said nothing, but under the “Mrs. Blake is being replaced” comment, he posted a smiley face. I stared at the screen. My eyes stung with pain. I exited the app and opened the fingerprint settings. Deleted my newly added fingerprint, leaving only his two. Ethan wanted a replacement. And I was tired of being his nanny.

That evening, Ethan came home. His face was expressionless, but his eyes gleamed brightly. Then he shoved a music score into my arms. “I promised to give you this before. Here.” He pushed me down onto the sofa and sat at the piano himself. With his back to me, hunched over, he clumsily searched for each key. If this were before, I would have, like Vivian, taken a photo and posted it with the caption, “My boyfriend is trying so hard to make me smile!” But now, I just asked calmly, “When did it start?” The piano stopped. Ethan turned around, his brows furrowed tightly. “I’ve explained. I’ve apologized. Aria Summers, what more do you want?” I looked up at him directly. “There’s an extra pair of slippers at home, a new perfume, and a Pikachu plush. The bedside drawer also has several boxes of ultra-thin condoms, the strawberry-flavored kind we never bought. Your closet—” “Enough!” The living room fell into dead silence. Only our amplified breathing could be heard. Ethan stood still for a few seconds before getting up. The music score crumpled in his grip, his knuckles white with tension. He looked at me with disappointed, cold eyes. “Aria Summers, I’m starting to wonder if your father’s mental illness was hereditary. Are you planning to jump off a building to force me next?” “Just like how your mother cheated and your father used death to force her?” A roaring sound filled my ears. My heart felt like it had exploded. I’d thought he might argue or deny. I never expected him to tear open my old wounds this way. “Some things are better left unsaid—that’s adult maturity! No matter what I do outside, you’re still the future Mrs. Blake. I ruined my hands for you, gave up my dream of being a doctor. What more do you have to be suspicious about?” “Vivian shouldn’t have showered in your bathroom, but she apologized. Don’t blow other things out of proportion and target her!” His voice grew louder with each word. Combined with those cold eyes, every word cut like a sharp blade. As if the one being unclear with a subordinate, maintaining an ambiguous relationship, wasn’t him, but me. I looked at him, finding the certainty in his eyes painfully glaring. Not the guilt of being caught, but the confidence that I had no way out, that I wouldn’t dare break things off with him. My throat felt blocked. I didn’t say another word. He only remembered ruining his hands, giving up his dream of being a doctor. But he’d forgotten that I’d also ruined my hands, spending every day in the kitchen for him. After he went to the bedroom, I numbly pressed piano key after piano key. The music played on. But it no longer had the sweetness of the past. Neither of us spoke again that night. Around midnight, Ethan quietly left. When the door closed, I opened my eyes. Soon after, Vivian posted again. Five photos. Each one showed brilliant fireworks exploding in the night sky, forming words. Together, they read, “Ethan Loves Vivian.” I’d received the same confession three years ago. Back then, Ethan’s company had just gone public. On the same day, he gave me a villa key and a huge flower-growing balcony. It had roses, peonies, orchids, and succulents. Lively like a warm little home. That night, countless fireworks exploded in the night sky as he shouted with a smile, “I did what I promised Aria. I’ll love Aria forever.” Same person. But the object of his love had changed. My phone vibrated. It was a reply from my mom. I turned off my phone, opened my suitcase, and began packing my clothes. Everything else went into the trash. When Ethan returned, what he saw was that suitcase.

He instinctively frowned. “Where are you going?” “On a trip.” “A trip?” He loosened his tie, as if he’d heard a joke. “You’ve taken care of me for seven whole years without leaving home for a single day. You think you can actually leave?” “Aria, if you think you can force me to give in this way, it won’t work.” “I don’t think I’m wrong, and I don’t think Vivian and I did anything wrong. I’ve supported you for seven years. You should be more understanding by now.” I didn’t speak or argue. I just stuffed the 20-inch suitcase back into the closet. The suitcase was light. Just like this home I’d stayed in for seven years, this marriage I’d anticipated for seven years. I’d thought it was full of blooming flowers. But it was riddled with holes. Only then did Ethan nod with satisfaction, a laugh escaping from his nose. “Good that you understand.” “In this world, besides me, no one else can give you a home, a balcony for growing flowers. You should cherish your blessings.” These words were certain yet cold. Mixed with an unfamiliar strawberry-milk scent on his collar, my heart throbbed with delayed pain. “Remember, you’re no longer the Aria Summers who shone on stage. You’re just my nanny now, a woman I’ve taken care of who’s become useless. Stop with these pointless acts. Behave, and I’ll treat you well…” The man’s slightly cold words drifted through the sound of running water. I couldn’t hear clearly. But it was enough. He didn’t know. The suitcase I’d put back contained my travel documents and clothes. I didn’t leave, not because I couldn’t bear to, but because I’d booked a flight for the day after tomorrow. The next day, Ethan unexpectedly called me. His tone was soft. “Company gala. The business partners all want to meet you.” A laugh came through the phone. “Come. I’ll use this opportunity to propose.” My heart raced for a few seconds, then calmed down. Not much excitement. But I still agreed. Not because I had any expectations, but for these seven years of wholehearted devotion, I wanted an answer. That evening, he had someone deliver a pair of sapphire earrings to me. And a black off-shoulder dress. My favorite color. My exact size. My heart warmed slightly. When the grand doors of the venue slowly opened for me and I walked step by step to the center of the crowd, I froze. On the stage paved with flowers, Vivian stood at the center in a black diamond-studded off-shoulder dress. Around her neck was an even larger sapphire necklace. And Ethan was holding a ring, down on one knee. Brilliant lights cast halos around them. The clicking of cameras mixed with congratulations loud enough to shatter the ceiling. Like a tsunami drowning me. I should have felt sad. But I didn’t. Only a sense of relief, as if things had turned out exactly as expected.

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My boyfriend’s birthday—my first time staying over at his place. In the middle of the night, while he was sound asleep, I got up for a drink and accidentally bumped his computer. The screen lit up, showing an Instagram post visible only to friends. The bold title read: [The Billionaire’s True Love Game] Eight months ago, this billionaire had started publicly documenting his operation to hunt down a Cinderella. The post had plenty of followers. I scrolled to the latest comments. “What’s up with Ethan lately? No updates? Isn’t the new target supposed to be dumb and clueless—difficulty level zero?” I refreshed. A new reply appeared: “Ethan already said he’s taking this girl’s virginity tonight. He’s busy with that right now!” I looked at the blogger’s profile picture—unmistakably Ethan’s profile. That side view I could never mistake. A bone-deep chill washed over me. What I thought was true love was just a con. He’d pretended to be a poor, hardworking, innocent boy—just bait tossed out by a wealthy playboy in his game. I forced down my explosive emotions and posted from my Instagram burner account to ask strangers for advice. Half an hour later, I’d made my decision. I grabbed some chicken blood from the fridge and climbed back into bed.

I didn’t sleep well. When I woke up, my eyelids felt heavy. Ethan sat at the small table typing on his laptop, his white dress shirt glowing faintly in the morning light. Campus heartthrob looks—truly captivating. Hearing me stir, he brought over a glass of warm milk. He affectionately pinched my cheek, his voice doting and magnetic: “Baby, drink your milk.” Then he pulled out a paper jewelry box and opened it. Inside was a tarnished silver ring that looked dirty and old. He knelt on one knee, held the ring up in front of me, and said: “Baby, this is the silver ring my mom took off her own finger and gave to me. It was also a gift from my grandmother to her.” “It’s not expensive, but to my family, it means everything.” “We’ve only been dating for five months, but from the moment we met eight months ago, I fell deeply in love with you.” “Please don’t refuse me, okay?” I silently sneered to myself. Wasn’t this the exact suggestion from the comment section when he posted pictures last month? A cheap alloy ring bought online for a dollar, free shipping during promotions. And they’d written so confidently: Game props don’t deserve expensive investments. Their disgusting game involved deliberately pretending to be poor, deceiving girls who struggled to make ends meet, scamming them for money and sex. And they justified it shamelessly: This is the only way to find girls who aren’t materialistic. Ha! Screw their “good girls!” I stayed silent, lowering my eyes. Ethan maintained his kneeling posture, his expression gradually tensing. He was worried I’d reject this piece of trash. I hid my left hand under the covers and viciously pinched my thigh. Tears immediately sprang to my eyes. Then, overcome with joy, I extended my right hand and slipped my ring finger into the silver band. I quickly pulled it back, as if afraid he’d change his mind. “It’s too precious. Are you sure you want to give this to me now?” Ethan blinked, caught off guard. He set down the paper box, using that movement to compose his expression. He gave me a sincere smile: “Of course. I’m sorry, baby. This is all I can give you right now.” What award-winning acting. I wiped away my tears and clasped my hands tightly together. “Ethan, don’t you dare look down on yourself!” I pressed the ring against my chest and solemnly declared: “I swear, it’s more important to me than my own heart.” His expression froze slightly, the mockery hidden in his eyes quietly dissipating. I shyly pulled him close, wrapping my arms around his waist and burying my face in his white shirt. I mentally reviewed all the netizen comments from last night. Ethan stroked my hair and murmured: “I’m sorry. Last night… I couldn’t hold back.” Fighting the urge to jump up and slap him, I gently pushed him away and turned to pull at the bedsheets. Against the large expanse of sky blue, a spot of oxidized rusty red stood out prominently. From where Ethan stood looking down, he could definitely see it. I quickly bundled the sheet into a ball. When I turned around, his face indeed showed poorly concealed smugness. “Last night was worth commemorating. Baby, don’t bother cooking. I’ll treat you to pizza.” I stuffed the sheet into the secondhand washing machine, poured in detergent, and replied casually: “Forget it. Takeout is expensive and dirty. I’ll cook instead. We need to save money if we’re going to buy a house someday.” Ethan looked deeply moved and tender. “You’re right, baby, but today’s an exception.” Without waiting for my answer, he placed the order. Then he walked over and held me tight. “Don’t worry. I’ll definitely make you happy. I’m going to work and earn money now. You eat first, okay?” The door closed. As I listened to the washing machine rumbling, memories flooded back.

Eight months ago, I was running a street stall on Central Street. Ethan worked at the boutique shop next door. That night, a woman with a nose ring and tattoos all over her body walked past my stall and kicked over my most expensive crystal ball. It shattered completely. I immediately stopped her and demanded compensation. The woman shoved me hard, climbed on top of me, and started hitting and cursing me. Ethan, from the boutique a few meters away, stepped forward and pulled her off me. The woman pointed at his nose and cursed him out, then stormed into the shop threatening to cause trouble. The shop owner wanted to keep the peace and told Ethan to apologize. I grabbed him and refused to let him. In the end, Ethan and I packed up my little stall and left together. We were both ordinary people who’d come from far away to make a living. No special skills, no connections—just warming each other through hardship. Half a month later, he handed me discounted red roses. Blushing, I kissed the corner of his mouth. That’s how our relationship began. Ethan was wonderful—handsome and gentle. Worried about my safety, he accompanied me to my stall whenever possible. When I caught a cold and felt chilly, he held me through the night. Last month, he proactively suggested I move in with him. Living together would save more money than living separately. Once we’d saved enough, we could get married. I was overjoyed and nodded eagerly. I looked forward to our future. But “the future” was just a joke. Now, I opened his profile page. Sure enough, there was a new post. “Easy as pie. She’s even dumber than I thought.” In the comments, his buddies posted a string of emoji. “That’s our Ethan!” “Ethan’s the best! Destroy her!” I smiled mockingly. Ethan put serious effort into pretending to be poor. He worked overtime every day, but in reality, his private blog posts showed yachts, mansions, and seafood feasts. Naturally, I couldn’t fall behind. I turned around and increased my workload, getting up early and staying out late, running all over the south and north sides of the city. Every night in the latter half of the night, I’d return to this cheapest basement apartment with my voice hoarse. But I never complained. I took care of him a hundred times more attentively. I’d rather eat rock-hard bread myself than skip making him chicken soup. Watching me grow increasingly pale, the mockery in Ethan’s eyes gradually disappeared. Instead, he occasionally seemed lost in thought. One morning, I knelt on the floor polishing his leather shoes. He seemed to choke up. After a long pause, he said: “Baby, they’re not worn out. I can still wear them.” I carefully wiped them, saying: “Clothes make the man. You can’t wear shoes with peeling polish—people will laugh at you.” “I don’t have money to buy you new ones right now, so I’ll just touch up the polish for you. Look! All done! Come try them on!” Ethan hesitated for a long time before walking over and stepping into them. His smile looked very unnatural. This weekend, Ethan said he had time off and took me to the night market. He bought me a grilled sausage, half-jokingly apologizing that this was all he could afford. I ate it with a blissful expression, as if it were a delicacy. Just then, the woman with the nose ring walked toward us from across the way. She was fawning all over a bald man’s arm. What rotten luck. The bald man had a face full of flab. He listened to the woman whisper in his ear, then sneered at us: “So you two are the ones who offended my woman?” This nouveau riche posture—in the past, Ethan wouldn’t have been worthy of pouring him water. Ethan’s fists clenched tight. If he threw that punch, the so-called game would end early. My eyes swept the area. I grabbed nearby pasta and hurled it at them. The bald man and nose-ring woman both shrieked, utterly embarrassed, then cursed and charged at us. I shielded Ethan behind me, waving the bamboo stick from my sausage while shouting tremblingly: “You bastard! Don’t think having money means you can bully people!” The bald man’s eyes widened as he tried to kick me. “Bitch, who are you trying to scare?” But he didn’t succeed. Ethan stepped forward quickly, kicked his foot away with one leg, then kicked him to the ground. His hand gripped the bald man’s throat, his expression murderous. “You want to die?” The bald man’s face turned completely red. A few seconds later, Ethan released him. The bald man didn’t even bother with nose-ring woman and fled directly. Ethan grabbed my hand and threw away the bamboo stick. “Do you know you could go to jail if you hurt someone? Just because of me… you fool.” His words were tender, but his eyes held scrutiny. I squeezed out tears and smiled at him. “You’re my man. I protect my boyfriend. Do I need a reason?” “Ethan, I’d do anything for you.” For an instant, something seemed to crack in his eyes. Ethan, who played with people’s hearts, claimed not to believe in genuine feelings—but what he wanted most was exactly that: genuine feelings.

That day when we got home, Ethan proactively put his arm around me for a selfie and posted this couple photo to social media for the first time. I understood—my progress bar had advanced another notch. Late that night, I opened his private profile page in the bathroom. Sure enough, there was a new blog post. He’d written about today’s events. The comments were full of mockery: “This chick’s got some fire in her.” “Ethan, are you catching feelings?” “Tsk tsk tsk, is Ethan going serious? You’ll lose the game if you do.” Ethan hadn’t replied to a single comment. The next night at midnight, he came home reeking of alcohol, looking at me with both despair and pain. “I’m sorry. Baby, let’s break up.” He pulled out a diagnostic report. “I’ve been feeling unwell these past few days—dizzy, headaches. I went to the hospital today for a checkup. Turns out I have a brain tumor.” “Surgery would cost at least two hundred thousand dollars. Where would I get that kind of money?” Did he steal this from a soap opera? I resisted rolling my eyes. Ethan half-reclined on the sofa, tears streaming down his face. “Lily, I can’t ruin your entire life.” I clasped my hands together, my nails digging into my palms, my lips biting until they bled. Between my part-time jobs and street stall, I’d only managed to save fifty thousand dollars so far. Two hundred thousand could crush me. Ethan cried while sneaking glances at me. He was waiting to see how I’d agree to break up, dump this terminally ill boyfriend, and restart my life. But I said nothing and turned to leave. The door clicked shut. His mouth opened—he hadn’t expected me to leave without a single word. After turning two streets, I opened his profile page. Ethan’s tone was agitated. “She ran off over two hundred thousand. Really poor, cheap, and worthless.” The comment section echoed in agreement: “Normal. For poor people, two hundred thousand is worth more than life itself.” “Ethan, you’ve played with this one for most of a year. Getting bored? Let’s find someone new!” Ethan didn’t reply, but he didn’t leave either. He stayed in the basement apartment, continuing to smoke and drink. Staring fixedly at the door.

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My husband, Ethan Pierce, wants me to sign an infidelity agreement. Article Three of the agreement: twelve opportunities to cheat per year, unused chances can be converted to cash. I smiled and signed it. From then on, I purchased various contraceptives and sex toys for him. I took excellent care of my husband and his lovers. Those lovers humiliated me: “That old hag is so pathetic. Does she really think she can keep Ethan’s heart by acting like a dog?” I still didn’t cry, didn’t make a scene, and didn’t file for divorce. Instead, every year, I collected a payout of thirty-six million dollars. Every second, I waited for that bastard husband to die. After all, Ethan Pierce had no idea. His HIV test had already come back positive long ago. The sixty-eighth time. When the nauseating moans from the master bedroom finally stopped, I swallowed the PEP pill in my mouth and put on protective gloves before daring to push the door open. Bit by bit, I cleaned up the disheveled, obscene mess of the room. The next second, the frosted bathroom door was yanked open. Ethan Pierce walked out bare-chested, supporting a young woman who could barely stand. “Ouch, I told you it was my first time. Did you have to be so rough?” It was Sophie West, the new intern at the company — fresh, beautiful, like a rose with thorns. The two of them flirted and laughed, but when they saw me, the warmth in Ethan’s eyes plummeted. “Fast work.” He pulled out a black card and casually tossed it onto the messy sheets stained with spots of blood. “Get the most expensive bedding set. Keep whatever’s left and buy yourself some handbags.” His voice sounded like he was dismissing a beggar. I numbly walked over, bent down, and picked up the card. I didn’t cry. I didn’t make a scene. Because Ethan Pierce had no idea. Six months ago, I’d found the medical report of his previous lover. Positive. And not only had I quietly concealed it, I’d also prayed to every god I could think of — and received confirmation that Ethan Pierce had tested positive too. Childhood sweethearts. A power couple. Seven years of marriage. I never imagined that one day, I’d be hoping for Ethan Pierce to die. Seven years ago, when Ethan used half of the Lynn family assets as startup capital and became the leading business tycoon in Crestwood, he knelt before me and said I was the only true love of his life. When he knew I was overseas on a business trip missing home-style cooking, he’d fly over ten hours just to cook me a table full of dishes himself. But after my family went bankrupt and Ethan handed me an agreement allowing him to “cheat twelve times a year,” I went from being the pampered elite wife he held in the palm of his hand to the maid who cleaned up after his hookups. If love could be performed, then I’d perform until he lost everything… After all, with one month left until his onset period, I was only one step away from completely destroying Ethan Pierce. “You clean up. I need to take this call.” The ringtone interrupted my thoughts. Ethan kissed Sophie for a few seconds, answered the phone, then turned and headed to the study. In the enormous bedroom, only Sophie and I remained. I watched Sophie — who had just kissed Ethan and been infected again — sit brazenly at my vanity without the slightest hesitation, picking up my bottles and jars and smearing them recklessly on her neck. I smiled. “If you like them, I’ll give them all to you later.” Through the mirror, Sophie looked at me with contempt, a provocative smile curling at the corner of her mouth. “Smart of you to know your place. So what if you’re childhood sweethearts? You’re still just a washed-up old woman.” “Ethan said that because I gave him my first time, I’m his only true love. And without me, he’d rather die.” “So, Lydia Lynn, do you really think a marriage certificate can hold onto Ethan?” True love… I laughed. Didn’t she know? She was already Ethan Pierce’s sixty-eighth true love. Looking at Sophie’s young, ignorant face, remembering how she’d just bragged about her first time, out of what little pity I had left, I looked at her with a hoarse voice. “Ethan Pierce has too many women around him. He’s not clean. If you’re smart, you should leave him as soon as possible.” But that sentence seemed to step on her tail. Sophie shot up, her pretty face instantly twisting. She raised her hand and slapped me. The crisp sound echoed in the empty bedroom. My cheek burned with pain, and the metallic taste of blood exploded in my mouth. “Leave? You bitch! You’re just jealous of me! You just can’t stand seeing Ethan treat me well!” She screamed, her eyes reddening, then turned and ran toward the study, crying and shouting as she ran: “Ethan! Your wife is bullying me! She said I’m dirty! She’s forcing me to leave you!” The study door burst open. Ethan Pierce strode out, his face showing the impatience and fury of being disturbed. Without asking any questions, seeing Sophie crying like a pear blossom in the rain, then seeing me covering my face, he delivered another slap, viciously striking my other cheek. “Lydia Lynn, no matter how jealous you are, you’d better fulfill the agreement! I give you money, you do your job as the maid!” I fell to the ground, my ears ringing. Through blurred vision, I watched Sophie coyly throw herself into Ethan Pierce’s arms, wrapping her arms around his neck, her face full of smug satisfaction. “Ethan, don’t be angry. Let’s do it again, okay? I really want to give you a baby.” “Okay, whatever you want.” Ethan Pierce lowered his head and kissed Sophie’s forehead. Before entering the room, he glanced at me like I was trash and coldly ordered: “When we’re done, wash those sheets clean.” “Okay.” I nodded silently, watching their backs disappear. Since Sophie wouldn’t listen to my warning, getting infected was no one’s fault but her own. That evening, after professional disinfection personnel finished sanitizing the villa, I had just changed into my pajamas when the villa’s door lock suddenly turned. Ethan Pierce had come back. He carried a strong scent of perfume and alcohol, his steps unsteady. I instinctively tried to dodge, but he suddenly grabbed me from behind, his scorching breath spraying on the back of my ear, his voice hoarse and suggestive. “Seeing me with others, you must be missing me too, right? Tonight, I’ll pamper you, okay?” With that, his kiss came crashing down.

In that instant, my stomach churned. I was not only disgusted by his touch, but terrified of infection. “My period… just started.” I firmly held back his chest. Ethan’s movements froze. I took the opportunity to turn aside, my voice extremely low: “Don’t touch me.” The man released his grip, stepped back, and the lust on his face was quickly replaced by disgust. “Playing high and mighty? Your period isn’t today.” He tugged at his shirt collar, his gaze sweeping over me from top to bottom, as if examining an expired product. “You won’t let me touch you, right? There are countless women outside waiting in line for me. Lydia Lynn, you’ll regret this someday.” He sneered, grabbed his car keys, and slammed the door without looking back. As the engine roared, I made one phone call, and a complete disinfection and cleaning crew rushed in. Smelling the gradually spreading scent of disinfectant, I clutched the folded blank equity transfer agreement in my pocket. Tomorrow, as long as he signed this document, his three most core holding companies would be transferred, without his knowledge, to the shell companies I’d set up in advance. This was the entire meaning of my endurance through sixty-eight times. The next morning, at Pierce Group headquarters. As the CFO, I had just exited the elevator when I saw the CEO’s office door standing open. Sophie West was wearing a barely-there camisole dress, half-sitting on Ethan Pierce’s desk, legs crossed, bossing around the head of administration. “This month’s team-building budget is too low. Ethan said to let me choose the restaurant. The one I picked averages three hundred eighty dollars per person. Go change it.” The admin manager looked troubled, glancing at me as if seeking help. Sophie noticed me too, and smiled. That kind of smile, like a cat catching a mouse. She hopped down from the desk, waving a stack of receipts as she walked up to me. “Ms. Lynn, help me sign off on this reimbursement, will you? Last month’s personal expenses — Ethan said to expense them through the company.” I took it and scanned it… eighty-six thousand dollars. Luxury goods receipts, medical aesthetics treatments, an invoice for a couples’ hot spring hotel. “Exceeds approval authority. Against regulations. Can’t sign it.” I handed the documents back. Sophie’s smile froze for a second, then she turned and ran into the inner office. Less than ten seconds later, Ethan Pierce stormed out with a livid face. Three executives who’d just finished a meeting were still standing in the hallway. In front of everyone, he threw the stack of reimbursement forms viciously in my face. Papers scattered across the floor, one slicing past my eye, bringing a faint sting. “Lydia Lynn, is your brain rusted?” “Sophie is my woman. Over a little money, you’re pulling the legitimate wife act?” The hallway was so quiet you could hear the air conditioning hum. The three executives kept their heads down; no one dared look at me. Seven years ago, I had injected all of the Lynn family assets into this company. This building, this floor of offices, even the land beneath our feet — all of it was bought with my dowry. And now, in front of the executive team I’d built with my own hands, he was making me reimburse expenses for his mistress. I bent down and picked up the receipts one by one. “Fine. I’ll sign.” After all, once you’re dead, I can take it all back. After everyone dispersed, Sophie slowly sauntered over to my side. She deliberately circled behind me, leaning close to my ear, her voice as light as a honey-coated needle. “Ms. Lynn, last night when you wouldn’t let Mr. Pierce touch you, he came to me again.” She stroked her lower abdomen, her eyes full of smugness. “Mr. Pierce is really something. What if I get pregnant… shouldn’t the position of Mrs. Pierce be handed over?” Pregnant? Perfect. Looking at her young, arrogant face, endless excitement surged in my heart. I didn’t speak, only showed a submissive, almost humble bitter smile. “Ms. West is right. Mr. Pierce… really does love you most.” With that, I pulled out the blank agreement from my bag, along with the reimbursement forms that had just been thrown in my face, and respectfully handed them to Sophie. “Ms. West, please also have Mr. Pierce sign these financial reports.” Sophie paused, then quickly took them, her face filled with satisfaction. “Should’ve been this sensible from the start. I’ll be the boss’s wife of this company sooner or later anyway.” Perhaps my submissiveness pleased Sophie greatly. Before long, Ethan Pierce, with one arm around Sophie, tossed the stack of documents mixed with the contract onto the desk in front of me. On top were three characters… Ethan Pierce. Written with flourishing strokes. Signed right on the agreement worth thirty-four percent equity. Got it. “Oh, by the way…” Ethan Pierce finally looked up, as if remembering something, and said casually: “The company scheduled annual executive physicals tomorrow. Family members included. I registered Sophie too.” He turned to look at Sophie, gently pinching her chin with affection: “Maybe you’re already pregnant, babe. Might as well get checked.”

Physical examination. Full panel. My mind buzzed instantly. If Ethan Pierce had blood drawn tomorrow, the positive results would come back within forty-eight hours at the earliest. Given his personality, his first reaction wouldn’t be fear — it would be rage. A full investigation. Investigate the source of infection, investigate everyone around him, investigate finances, investigate the company… Then the last equity swap funds I hadn’t finished transferring would be frozen overnight. Sixty-eight times of endurance, five years of planning — all reduced to zero. I couldn’t let him get blood drawn tomorrow. Absolutely not. At six o’clock the next morning, I stood in the kitchen, a packet of brown powder in my palm. prune juice concentrate — colorless, tasteless. Mixed into warm milk, it would only cause several hours of severe diarrhea. Completely untraceable. I placed the milk on Ethan Pierce’s designated black coaster. Seven years. I knew his habits better than he knew them himself. At exactly seven o’clock, Ethan Pierce came downstairs in his crisp suit and sat down punctually. But just as his hand touched the cup… “Ethan!” Sophie came running in fuzzy slippers, plopping herself into Ethan Pierce’s lap, coquettishly snatching the glass of milk. “I want some too. I’m the lady of this house — everything should go to me first.” She deliberately glanced at me, then tilted her head back and drained the entire glass in one go. My hand holding the fruit plate froze in mid-air. Sure enough, by the time they left, Sophie’s face had turned pale. And just as the car got onto the elevated highway, she suddenly clutched her stomach, instantly breaking into a cold sweat. “Ethan… my stomach hurts so much…” Ethan Pierce’s expression changed immediately. He grabbed her and shouted at the driver: “Turn around! To the nearest hospital!” Sophie vomited three times. The last time, she was practically semi-conscious, collapsing in Ethan Pierce’s arms. When he carried her rushing into the emergency room, his eyes were red. And I was summoned by his furious phone call. “Lydia Lynn, you can’t even make a fucking breakfast right? Did you deliberately give her diarrhea!” The roar on the other end was so loud even the taxi driver glanced over. When I arrived at the VIP hospital room, I saw Ethan Pierce crouching by Sophie’s bedside, carefully tucking in her blanket, his gaze as tender as a different person. He heard footsteps and shot to his feet. A glass of cold water came crashing down. I was knocked to the ground in an instant. Ice-cold water ran down my hair, face, and neck, soaking the collar of my blouse. A cut opened on my forehead, blood seeping out. In front of three nurses and an attending physician, he pointed his finger almost at my forehead: “If it weren’t for your dead father’s sake, I would’ve kicked you out long ago!” My dead father. He had the nerve to mention my dad? He’d had the chance to save my father with just three million dollars, but didn’t my dad still jump to his death? I lowered my eyes. Water droplets slid from my lashes, like tears, but they weren’t. “If anything happens to Sophie…” Ethan Pierce gripped my jaw, the force nearly dislocating it: “I’ll make you pay with your life.” “I’m sorry… it was my fault. But the medical center… are we still going?” Wiping the water from my face, I asked timidly. “Go? Go where!” He waved his hand irritably. “We’ll go after Sophie recovers. Reschedule for next week!” Ethan Pierce turned away from me and sat back on the edge of the bed, intertwining his fingers to hold Sophie’s hand again. That image was so tender, it reminded me of three years ago. I’d hemorrhaged from a miscarriage in the ER, called him seventeen times, and every single call went unanswered. I found out later that he’d been celebrating girlfriend number thirty-four’s birthday that night. I was lost in thought when… Buzz. Ethan Pierce’s phone suddenly exploded with sound. He frowned and answered, but less than five seconds in, his face turned from iron-blue to deathly pale. “What did you say?!” On the other end, I heard it — the finance department’s voice trembling: “Mr. Pierce, there’s an abnormal flow of three hundred million dollars from the company accounts!” “The system shows the approver is… Mrs. Pierce.” The air in the hospital room instantly froze. Ethan Pierce slowly turned his head, those bloodshot eyes nailing themselves onto me.

“Lydia Lynn, give me an explanation.” Ethan Pierce’s Adam’s apple rolled. The room was so quiet you could hear the monitor beeping. I panicked. After all, panic was exactly the reaction I should have. Lowering my head, I clumsily pulled a document from my bag, hands trembling slightly as I handed it over. “This… I discovered it last week. I checked — someone hacked my authorization in the approval system. The funds flowed to… the account for that villa in Heron Bay.” Ethan Pierce’s pupils shrank violently. That was the residence of his sixty-seventh mistress, Yvonne Zoe, whom he’d dumped just a month ago. The breakup had been ugly. Yvonne had even threatened to expose him, but Ethan had silenced her with a lawyer’s letter. Ethan Pierce snatched the report, his eyes flying over every line of data. Then, gritting his teeth, he threw the report down. “That bitch!” After cursing, he didn’t look at me again. After all, in Ethan Pierce’s world, Lydia Lynn was just a dog. Would a dog bite? No. That night, I sat in the darkness of the study, the blue screen light reflecting on my face. When I pressed Enter for the last time, my finger was steady. Over the past thirty days, the old Lynn family guard had completed the final round of capital swaps. The core assets and underlying equity structure of Pierce Group had been hollowed out by me, thread by thread, over seven years. From the outside, Pierce Group still looked glamorous. But the bones were gone. I closed the laptop, walked to the window, and looked out at the city’s night view. A month later, at Pierce Group’s year-end gala. Under crystal chandeliers, Ethan Pierce appeared on the red carpet with Sophie on his arm, camera flashes crackling. I was seated at the most remote table in the corner, without even a nameplate, sitting with three drivers from supplier companies. Ethan Pierce stood on stage holding a wine glass, confidently describing his business empire. He looked much worse than a month ago. Sunken eyes, night sweats, and then swollen lymph nodes appearing on the side of his neck. Ethan Pierce thought it was just too much socializing and not enough rest. A few days ago, he’d gone for a checkup, gotten an IV drip at a private hospital, and taken a few fever reducers. This time I didn’t stop the checkup. I didn’t need to anymore. After all, what’s coming will come. At the gala’s climax, Ethan Pierce suddenly called my name. The entire ballroom went silent. He threw a document in front of me, his tone like ordering a servant to pour water: “Sign it. Just a formality. Sophie likes the garden at the old Lynn estate. I’ve already transferred the deed to her name. You don’t mind, do you?” I looked down and made out the line: Lynn Family estate Property Transfer Agreement. That was my father’s last possession before he jumped. That was the courtyard where my mother had grown magnolia flowers for twenty years. That was the only place I could still call home in these seven years of hellish existence. One mistake in a hundred calculations. My hands began to tremble. This time, they were really shaking. I finally looked up at him with reddened eyes: “Ethan Pierce, do you have to be this ruthless?” He looked down at me like an ant blocking his path. “Lydia Lynn, don’t be ungrateful. Without me, you wouldn’t even have the right to stand here. Sign it, and you’re still Mrs. Pierce.” “If you don’t sign…” He didn’t finish, but of course he didn’t need to. Sophie walked over with a wine glass and high heels, deliberately thrusting out her waist, smiling broadly: “Ms. Lynn, Mr. Pierce dotes on me now. If you still want to be Mrs. Pierce, be smart about it, won’t you?” I bit my lip, my hand holding the pen still trembling. Over three hundred pairs of eyes in the room watched me — some sympathetic, some indifferent, most just watching the show. And just as I was about to sign… Bang! The side door of the ballroom was violently pushed open. The private doctor I’d bribed, pale-faced and sweating, clutching an urgent report in trembling hands, stumbled in. His voice exploded across the entire hall, uncontrollably shaking: “Mr. Pierce! Something terrible has happened… Your physical examination report…”

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On the anniversary of my father’s death, Mom and I went to pay our respects. Mom suddenly wanted to place something inside Dad’s urn. But when the staff member brought out the urn, Mom and I froze instantly. Because the photo on the urn in front of us wasn’t my dad at all—it was some stranger. I demanded an explanation from the staff member, my voice shaking. “What’s going on? Why is there someone else’s ashes in my father’s plot?” Mom clutched her chest beside me, her heart condition nearly flaring up from the shock. “We’ve been paying our respects to the wrong ashes for twelve years? Then where are my husband’s ashes?” The staff member had never encountered this situation before. He quickly checked the system, then looked at us with confusion. “Are you sure you came to the right cemetery? I just checked—we don’t have any deceased person with the surname Thompson in our records.” “Impossible!” My tone was firm. “When my father died, I personally placed his urn in this plot. I couldn’t have made a mistake!” Mom chimed in to support me. “That’s right. We still have the purchase contract for this plot at home. How could your cemetery not have any records of a Thompson?” Seeing how certain we were, the staff member logged into the system again to check. But the result was the same as before. No records of anyone named Thompson. At that moment, the manager rushed over after hearing about the commotion. He bowed repeatedly to Mom and me in apology. “I’m so sorry, this is all a misunderstanding. Last year we expanded the cemetery, and to avoid disturbing the deceased, we temporarily moved all the urns to the funeral home. The staff must have been careless and mixed up the ashes. We’ll fix this immediately. Please, come wait in our office.” “Mixed up?” My eyes widened, anger creeping into my voice. “Why didn’t you notify the families before moving the ashes during your expansion? If Mom hadn’t wanted to see Dad today, would we have ever found out?” “This is entirely our mistake, entirely our mistake!” The manager wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. “I completely understand your feelings, but right now the priority is finding your father’s ashes. Please just wait a moment.” I wanted to argue with him further, but Mom, still clutching her chest, stopped me. “Forget it, Evelyn. Take me somewhere to sit down and let them find your father’s ashes first. We can’t miss the time to leave flowers for him.” Looking at Mom’s haggard face, I could only swallow my anger for now. “Fine. Find my father’s ashes first. After we’ve paid our respects, we’ll discuss how to handle this.” With that, I led Mom to their office. The manager nodded vigorously behind us. “Yes, Ms. Thompson, don’t worry. We’ll notify you the moment we find them.” In the office, I poured Mom a glass of water to help calm her down. Ever since Dad’s company went bankrupt twelve years ago and he jumped to his death, Mom had developed a heart condition. Over these years, she’d had to care for Grandpa and Grandma while supporting me through high school, with no time to see a doctor. On top of that, she’d been paying off the debts Dad left behind from the bankruptcy. Life had been incredibly hard. Fortunately, I’d succeeded in starting my own business. Not only had I paid off all of Dad’s debts, but I’d also saved quite a bit of money. I’d originally planned to take Mom to get proper treatment for her heart after paying our respects to Dad. I never expected something like this to happen. Thinking of this, I asked Mom. “Mom, what were you planning to put in Dad’s urn?”

Mom’s expression softened a bit as she pulled a bead from her bag. ” A couple days ago I went to the chapel and got this blessed rosary bead for your father. The priest said if I put it in the urn, it would help him have a better time in heaven ” Mom’s superstition made me want to laugh and cry at the same time, and my tense mood relaxed slightly. Just then, a staff member came to get us. “Ms. Thompson, we’ve found your father’s ashes.” Mom and I exchanged glances and immediately got up to return to the plot. The manager handed me Dad’s urn with an apologetic expression. “Ms. Thompson, you were right—it was mixed up. It was mistakenly placed in the plot next to yours. Now that we’ve found it, please confirm it’s correct and we’ll put it back right away.” I took the urn and glanced at it. The photo on top was indeed my father. Seeing Dad’s portrait again, I couldn’t help but tear up. Mom quietly wiped away tears beside me. “If everything’s correct, I’ll put it back now. The urn shouldn’t be exposed to sunlight—it’s bad luck.” I quickly handed the urn back to the manager. “It’s fine. Go ahead and put it back.” “Wait.” Mom suddenly spoke up, pulling the bead from her bag. “Let me put this inside first.” Before the manager could respond, Mom opened the lid of the urn, preparing to place the bead inside. But the moment she opened the lid, her expression darkened. “You’re saying these are my husband’s ashes?” “Yes, isn’t that Mr. Thompson’s photo on the urn?” Mom put the bead back in her bag and stepped backward. “These aren’t my husband’s ashes at all! When he was cremated, I placed our wedding rings in his urn. There’s nothing like that in here! Where did you hide my husband’s ashes?” I stepped forward and looked into the urn. There were indeed no rings inside! “Where are my father’s ashes? What kind of cemetery is this? Did you lose my father’s ashes and just randomly grab someone else’s to cover it up?” The manager’s face had already gone pale when he heard Mom’s words. Now he stammered, unable to get a word out. Other people who’d come to visit their loved ones noticed the commotion and gathered around us. “Your cemetery can’t even protect the deceased’s ashes properly? How can we trust leaving our loved ones here?” “What if something happened to our relatives’ ashes too? I demand to inspect mine!” “Exactly! You need to give us an explanation. Paying respects to a complete stranger—that’s disgusting!” Seeing him remain silent, I’d had enough. I pulled out my phone. “Since you can’t give me a reasonable explanation, you can explain it to the police instead!” I was about to call the police. Seeing me reach for my phone, the manager finally broke his silence and pressed down on my hand. “Don’t call the police. Let’s talk this through.” “Talk it through?” I glared at him. “My father’s ashes are still missing and you won’t explain what happened. What is there to talk about?” Mom joined in loudly. “Exactly! You’re running a shady cemetery! My husband has been buried here for twelve years—who knows when you switched him out for someone else! We have to call the police!” The crowd’s emotions were equally heated. “That’s right! Call the police! You have to call the police!” Under the enormous pressure, the manager finally cracked. He raised his hand and shouted. “Your loved ones’ ashes are all fine!” Then he turned to look at me, forcing out a sentence with difficulty. “Your father’s ashes aren’t missing because we lost them. Someone else claimed them!”

As his words fell, the surroundings instantly went quiet. The onlookers who’d been making a fuss all turned to stare at me in unison. I froze, instinctively asking. “What do you mean? What do you mean someone else claimed them? Besides us, who else would my father give his ashes to?” Mom became agitated too. “What’s going on? How could you hand over my husband’s ashes to just anyone?” After revealing this truth, the manager explained what had really happened back then. Apparently, before my father’s company went bankrupt and before he jumped to his death, he’d left behind a suicide note. In the note, he’d left all his remaining assets to a woman named Madison. He’d specifically instructed the manager to give his ashes to that woman as well, and to make absolutely sure we never found out. So at the time, the manager found an unclaimed body and pretended those were Dad’s cremated ashes. For twelve years, we’d been paying our respects to a complete stranger’s ashes. Dad’s real ashes had been taken out shortly after we placed them in the plot, and handed over to that woman. During last year’s cemetery expansion, a staff member noticed the photo on the urn was wrong and switched it back. And because of that, we discovered today the truth that had been hidden for twelve years. “I only got paid twenty thousand dollars for this. That amount of money isn’t worth going to jail for! I’ve told you the truth now—please don’t keep threatening to call the police.” After hearing the manager’s explanation, I clenched my fists and asked through gritted teeth. “So where are my father’s ashes now?” The manager gave me an address. “Last time I mailed her your father’s suicide note, I used this address. You can try looking there.” On the way to that address, Mom sat in the passenger seat with an unusually calm expression. “Evelyn, why do you think your father left his ashes to that woman?” I already had an unpleasant suspicion forming, but I tried to comfort Mom gently. “Mom, don’t overthink it. Maybe Dad had some reason he couldn’t explain. We’ll know when we get there.” Mom didn’t respond to me. She just stared out the window in silence. I drove quietly too, flooring the gas pedal, wanting to reach our destination as quickly as possible. When we arrived at the address, we found ourselves in front of a lakeside villa. It looked quite expensive. I walked to Mom’s side, supporting her slightly trembling hand. After exchanging a glance with her, I rang the doorbell. The person who opened the door was a young woman. The moment she saw Mom, she froze. Then, coming to her senses, she turned to close the door. I quickly blocked the door with my hand and stepped forward, forcing the woman back into the house. Seeing my aggressive stance, the woman spoke guiltily. “Who are you? Why are you barging into my house? I’ll call the police if you keep this up.” “You must be Madison, right?” I cut straight to the point. “You claimed my father’s ashes? Where are they now?” The woman’s eyes instantly filled with panic, but she kept deflecting. “What ashes? I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’ve got the wrong person.” “Whether we have the wrong person or not, you know best.” Mom suddenly spoke up from behind me. “I’ve seen you before. You were a new intern at Thompson Industries. Your name is Madison Clarke, isn’t it?” Seeing that Mom had recognized her, Madison stopped pretending and admitted her identity directly. “Yes, I’m Madison Clarke. Your husband’s ashes are with me, but this was his own dying wish. He wanted to leave his ashes with me. You have no right to take them.” “We have no right?” Mom let out a bitter laugh. “I’m his wife. This is his only daughter. How do we not have the right to claim his ashes?” “But I’m the one he loved!”

Madison raised her voice and shouted. “He stopped loving you, you old hag, a long time ago! He didn’t want you paying respects to his ashes at all!” As her words fell, the smile froze on Mom’s face. In that moment, something shattered in her eyes. Madison grew more confident as she continued. “You don’t even know, do you? We were together for a long time. He wanted to divorce you. If his parents hadn’t absolutely refused, I would be his wife right now, not you.” “Shut your mouth!” I cut her off sharply. “What you’re saying has no evidence! Who knows if you’re just making things up?” “You want evidence? Fine, I’ll show you!” Madison went to a drawer, pulled out an envelope, and slammed it down in front of me. “This is a suicide note your father wrote himself. See for yourself!” I was about to reach for it, but Mom stopped me. She extended her own hands—rough and worn from years of hard work—trembling as she picked up the envelope and slowly opened it. Inside was Dad’s familiar handwriting. The contents were simple, just a few short sentences, but they instantly brought tears to Mom’s eyes. Because everything written there expressed Dad’s feelings for Madison and their time together. At the end, he’d left all his remaining assets to Madison. Even this villa had been specifically set aside for her. As for Mom and me, he’d left us nothing. Nothing except a mountain of debt we could never fully repay. You have to understand—this villa alone was worth enough to pay off all of Dad’s debts. But he’d given it to Madison without hesitation, leaving Mom to work herself to the bone for over a decade, slowly paying back those debts bit by bit. In that instant, all the blood in my body rushed to my head. Right now, I wanted nothing more than to scatter my father’s ashes to the wind. Mom’s hands trembled as she finished reading the letter, tears finally breaking free and streaming down her face. Seeing this, Madison lifted her chin smugly. “Do you believe me now? Just leave. With this suicide note, there’s no way you can take your husband’s ashes.” I couldn’t control my emotions anymore either. After helping Mom sit down on the couch, I strode toward Madison. “Where are his ashes? Hand them over now!” “I’m not giving them to you—” *Slap!* I raised my hand and struck her hard across the face. Madison’s face whipped to the side. She stared at me in disbelief. “You hit me?” I flexed my wrist and threatened her coldly. “I’m not asking you. I’m telling you. If you don’t hand them over right now, I’ll beat you until your own mother wouldn’t recognize you. After all, that suicide note can’t prove one hundred percent that my father wrote it. I could easily say you stole my father’s ashes. I just lost control for a moment out of anger.” With that, I grabbed a fistful of her hair and, ignoring her screams of pain, yanked her toward me. “Talk! Where are my father’s ashes?” At that moment, a familiar voice suddenly came from the doorway behind me. “Evelyn Thompson, what do you think you’re doing? Let go of Madison right now!” In an instant, every hair on my body stood on end. Because that voice belonged to my father—my father who had been “dead” for twelve years. I stiffly turned my neck and looked back. Standing in the doorway was a man. It was my father. He was alive. He hadn’t died.

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I was the finest falconer the high plains had ever seen. Out there, the wind howled like a hungry wolf, and I rode through it, my crimson silks snapping against the sky like a wildfire. It was that raw, untamed spirit that made Camilla Beaumont—Manhattan’s golden princess—fall for me with a desperation that bordered on insanity. To win my hand, she leveled half a mountainside just to capture a pure white Gyrfalcon as a betrothal gift. She knelt before me in the dust for three days and three nights, defying her billionaire father to write my name into the Beaumont family registry. I fell for it. I believed in the heart she offered, backed by all that terrifying power. I tucked away my hunting knife, folded my wings, and walked willingly into her gilded cage. We hadn’t been married a year before he showed up: Sebastian Montgomery. He was “old money,” refined, a scholar from a lineage that matched hers perfectly. He came to our penthouse one afternoon, smelling of sandalwood and arrogance, his voice a soft, cultured purr. “A Beaumont husband shouldn’t just know how to whistle at birds, Kaelen,” he said, smoothing his perfectly tailored suit. “Camilla asked me to teach you how to behave in high society.” He looked at me with a thin, condescending smile. “Since you’re essentially a trophy, you’ll learn the protocols of the house. From now on, you’ll greet me on your knees when I arrive. If your posture is lacking, I’ve been authorized to use a switch to correct you.” I didn’t argue. I simply nodded. Then, I lunged forward, grabbing a fistful of his meticulously styled hair, and let out a sharp, piercing whistle. My falcon plummeted from her perch, a streak of white lightning. She struck with surgical precision, her talons tearing into his eyes. “Teaching me the rules, are you?” I laughed as the blood sprayed, bright and hot against the marble floor. “Let me teach you the only rule we have on the plains. You insult the master of a hawk, you pay in blood.” 1 The screams hadn’t even stopped before the butler was on the phone with Camilla. Thirty minutes later, she slammed through the front door. Her voice cut through the foyer before I even saw her face. “Kaelen! He’s a Montgomery! How could you be so reckless?” “So what?” I stood my ground, the falcon back on my leather-clad shoulder. “He insulted me. He earned his scars.” Camilla’s striking eyes narrowed, her jaw tight as she stared me down. I didn’t flinch. The Gyrfalcon shifted, her golden eyes locked onto Camilla, waiting for my signal to strike again. In the background, Sebastian’s wails were pathetic. “He’s a savage! An animal! Camilla, look what he did to me! My family will ruin you for this!” Camilla knelt to inspect his wound. When she saw the jagged, deep tear near his right eye, the temperature in the room plummeted to sub-zero. “You went too far, Kaelen.” She stood up, her gaze sweeping coldly over the white predator on my shoulder. “He is the heir to a dynasty. He’s never even had a bruise, and you’ve marked him for life. You owe the Montgomerys a debt. Either I give them one of your eyes…” She took a step closer, her voice dropping to a lethal whisper. “…or I give them the life of that beast.” My fingers trembled slightly as I stroked the falcon’s thick, soft feathers. A pure white Gyrfalcon. The King of Birds. This was the creature she had nearly died for, the one she presented to me while bleeding from her own climb up a frozen cliff. She had knelt in the dirt and sworn she would be like this bird—loyal to me and me alone, until the end of time. It had been five years. Now, she wanted its life. The betrayal felt like an ice pick through the heart, cold and sharp, but the pain was quickly drowned by a rising tide of fury. I looked her in the eyes—eyes that were now a scorched, angry red. “I don’t like multiple-choice questions, Camilla. And I’m not picking either of those.” Her face turned to stone. She stepped toward me, closing the distance. “This is New York, Kaelen. You don’t get to make the rules here.” The moment she moved, I reached for the decorative recurve bow hanging on the wall display behind me. In one fluid motion, I notched an arrow and drew the string taut, the broadhead pointed directly at her heart. “You know my aim,” I said, my voice steady. “One more step, and this goes through your shoulder.” The security detail huddled outside the lounge surged inward, a dozen black muzzles of handguns aiming at my chest. In the suffocating tension, Camilla suddenly raised her hand, signaling them to stand down. A flicker of something—an obsessed, sickly fascination—danced in her eyes. “That’s it,” she whispered. “That wild, untamable streak. It’s why I can’t let you go.” Then, her tone turned glacial. “But the plains are a long way away. Put the bow down, apologize, and maybe we can find a way out of this.” My heart gave a dull, numb thud. Five years ago, on the windswept grasslands of the North, she had chased the horizon on horseback just to catch me. She had grabbed my hand—the hand that held the hawk—and pleaded. “Come to the city with me,” she had whispered. “I swear on my life, Kaelen, you will always be a hawk soaring in the sky. I will never make you a bird in a cage.” The words were still echoing in my mind, yet here she was, demanding I learn to be “tame.” It was pathetic. “What? Now Miss Beaumont wants to talk about rules?” I let out a jagged laugh. “Five years, and you’ve already forgotten how you begged like a dog to marry me?” Before Camilla could react, Sebastian shrieked from the sofa, “What are you talking about? Camilla is a princess! She would never beg for a savage like you! You probably drugged her—you’re just a parasite who won’t let go!” Camilla didn’t say a word. She stared at me for a long, heavy minute, then turned on her heel and led her people out. “Kaelen,” she said over her shoulder, “this isn’t over.” The Montgomerys’ retaliation came faster than I expected. 2 That night, a harrowing, guttural shriek echoed from the terrace garden. My heart dropped into my stomach. I ran out, barefoot, my lungs burning. The moonlight was a sickly pale. My falcon lay in a pool of dark, spreading red. Her white feathers were matted and stained crimson, a jagged hole in her chest still pulsing with the last of her life’s blood. She was twitching, her golden eyes finding mine, slowly losing their spark until they went dull. Camilla stood nearby, her back to me, her silhouette cold and unyielding. “You killed her?” I whispered. She turned around, her face a mask of indifference. “Sebastian’s eye couldn’t be saved. His family wanted one of yours. This was the only way to settle the score.” I began to shake, a violent, soul-deep tremor. I turned to go back inside to get my knife, but she caught my wrist in a grip of iron. “It was just an animal, Kaelen. Stop being so dramatic.” “An animal?” My eyes were burning, my voice cracking. “Is that all she was? What did you call her when you brought her to me, covered in your own blood? What did you say she represented?” Her throat bobbed. For a split second, her eyes flickered with guilt. But then, Sebastian stepped out from the shadows. His right eye was bandaged, but his white shirt was pristine. He kicked the falcon’s cooling body with the tip of his Italian leather shoe. “I’ve never had hawk meat,” he sneered. “Maybe it’ll make a decent stew.” The blood rushed to my head, a deafening roar. “Sebastian,” I said, my voice dropping to a low, dangerous vibration. “I took one eye. I can easily take the second.” Before the sentence was finished, I whipped the hunting knife from the sheath at the small of my back. A flash of steel. I didn’t go for his eye—I went for the hand Camilla was using to hold me back. I sliced clean through her pinky finger. Camilla let out a muffled grunt of pain and released me. The severed finger hit the floor, wet and limp. I didn’t stop. The tip of my blade lunged for Sebastian’s remaining eye. “No!” He froze, his scream breaking into a high-pitched sob. Camilla reacted with the speed of a viper. Ignoring the agony in her hand, she kicked my wrist with her heel, sending the knife flying across the marble. “Security! Lock him down!” The guards swarmed me, pinning my arms behind my back with brutal force. I was dragged down to the basement, into the cold, dark confines of the wine cellar. In the darkness, I sat on the floor, cradling the ghost of my bird. My love had burned to ash, leaving nothing but a furnace of hatred. Camilla. You swore on your life you wouldn’t cage me. You broke the vow. Now, you pay with your life. The next day, I was “released,” though it was house arrest in all but name. Every sharp object in the penthouse had been removed. Even the decorative bows were gone. Four guards followed my every shadow, and more patrolled the perimeter outside. Sebastian couldn’t help himself. He came to gloat. He wore an expensive silk eye patch, his remaining eye gleaming with triumph. “Thought you should know the good news. Camilla and I are getting married.” He chuckled, a dry, irritating sound. “I should actually thank that bird. If it hadn’t blinded me, this merger between our families wouldn’t have been fast-tracked.” I looked up, stunned. “We aren’t even divorced. How could the Montgomerys allow a Beaumont husband to take a ‘consort’?” Sebastian laughed, covering his mouth daintily. “Oh, you poor, deluded fool. Did you really think that piece of paper you signed five years ago was real?” “The whole city knows Camilla gave you a fake certificate. You were a phase, Kaelen. A wild little toy she picked up on vacation. You don’t actually think a woman of her stature would legally marry a nomad, do you?” My mind went blank. The “marriage.” The “defiance” against her family. The nights she spent “kneeling” in the ancestral hall to earn their approval… it was all a scripted play. A meticulously designed lie. She never intended to give me a name. She lured me into this cage, clipped my wings, and watched with amusement as I tried to maintain my dignity and my love. Camilla Beaumont. You’re already dead. You just don’t know it yet. 3 Camilla returned late that night, smelling of expensive gin and the cold city air. The living room was cast in shadows, lit only by a single amber wall sconce. I hadn’t moved from the sofa for hours. She sat across from me, studying me in the gloom. Half her face was lost to the dark. “Kaelen,” she finally said, her voice carrying a trace of hesitation. “You know, don’t you?” I didn’t answer. I kept my eyes fixed on a point in the distance. Suddenly, she leaned forward and tossed my hunting knife and my bow onto the coffee table. “I didn’t mean to keep it from you… at least not at first. Eventually, I just didn’t know how to explain.” She reached out, her voice softening into that manipulative purr. “I know you’re hurting. Here. Do whatever you want to me.” She grabbed my hand, forcing my fingers around the hilt of the knife. Then, she pressed the blade firmly against her chest, right over her heart. I could feel the frantic, rhythmic thrum of her heartbeat through the silk of her blouse. “You think I won’t?” I asked. She let out a soft, melodic laugh. And then, she pushed. She forced my hand forward, driving the blade into her own chest. Warm blood splashed across my face instantly. Camilla kept smiling, even as her breath hitched. “Kaelen… I lied to you. But I do love you. I told you once… if my life could make you happy, I’d give it. I meant that.” The metallic tang of blood filled the room, dragging me back to that rain-slicked cliff in Montana. The smell was the same. She had been soaked to the bone then, her designer gear shredded by rocks and talons, holding that struggling white falcon out to me like a holy relic. “I did it, Kaelen!” she had shouted over the thunder, her eyes bright with a terrifying fever. “Am I a real mountain woman now? Am I yours?” The memory was a dull blade sawing through my soul. We had ridden across the plains until the wind felt like it belonged to us. We had huddled under overhangs during storms, kissing until the world vanished. My tribe had said the strongest eagle on the plains had been tamed by a city woman. But it was because I had loved her so truly that this betrayal felt so grotesque. My grip tightened on the hilt. Rage, hot as molten lead, flooded my veins. Kill her. End it now. I pushed the blade deeper. Camilla gasped, breaking into a cold sweat, but her eyes remained locked on mine with a sickening, pathological devotion. No. Death was too easy for her. I wrenched the knife out, a fresh spray of red hitting the floor. I stumbled back and bolted from the room. Camilla was rushed to the hospital for emergency surgery. The next afternoon, Sebastian showed up again. He stood in the doorway, afraid to come closer, his voice shrill with cowardice. “You lunatic! You tried to murder her! If anything happens to Camilla, the Beaumonts and the Montgomerys will have you hunted down like the animal you are!” I stared out the window, deaf to his threats. Finding me unresponsive, he eventually grew bored and led his men to the rooftop conservatory. That conservatory was Camilla’s masterpiece—a simulated prairie landscape she had built for me, planted with thousands of wild cosmos flowers shipped from my homeland. She used to say, “I took the hawk from the plains, so I brought the plains to him.” She tended those flowers herself. Only she and I had the key. But now, I watched as Sebastian took a key from his pocket and opened the glass doors. I watched as he ordered the men to rip the flowers out by the roots. I watched as the symbols of my “beautiful cage” were trampled into the dirt. I felt nothing. Not a spark. Not a tear. When the heart dies, even grief becomes a luxury you can no longer afford. 4 The days became a stagnant pool. I was a ghost in the penthouse, shadowed by guards. Meanwhile, the news of the “Wedding of the Century” between Camilla and Sebastian saturated every screen in the city. The headlines were relentless: the multi-million dollar dowry, the custom Vera Wang gown, the private island rented for the pre-wedding gala. Every detail was exactly what Camilla had once whispered to me in the dark, describing her dream wedding. The only thing that had changed was the groom. Sebastian, emboldened by my silence, began sending me taunting texts. [Camilla bought me ten limited-edition watches today. Which one should I wear for the ceremony?] [Look at our menu. One course costs more than your entire village makes in a year.] [Camilla says you’re crude. A gutter rat compared to me. Did you really think a nomad could marry into a dynasty?] I never replied. Instead, I took screenshots of every single message. I packaged them with the photos of Camilla’s “private” moments in the basement and sent them to every high-society gossip rag and investigative journalist in the city. The headline I suggested was simple: “MONTGOMERY HEIR EXPOSED: THE PREMEDITATED SABOTAGE OF THE BEAUMONT PRINCESS’S MARRIAGE.” I knew how deep the waters ran in this city. I knew the Beaumonts could squash a scandal before it even broke. And indeed, within hours, the articles vanished. The social media threads were scrubbed. But the seeds were sown. Beaumont stock began to dip. The whispers began. A call came into the penthouse from Sebastian’s father. Even through the closed door, I could hear his muffled, vibrating roar of fury. He was warning Camilla to keep her “pet” on a shorter leash. The guards took my phone immediately after. I was officially cut off from the world. The penthouse was silent, save for Mrs. Gable, the housekeeper who had always been kind to me. “Sir,” she whispered, leaning in as she set down my tea. “She didn’t even give you a real wedding. Now she’s throwing this circus for him. It’s a knife to the heart.” She glanced at the guards. “If I were you, I’d run. Go back to the mountains. Somewhere she can’t find you. Let her taste the regret of what she threw away.” “Mrs. Gable,” I said with a faint, sharp smile. “Don’t believe everything you read in romance novels.” I stood and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window. In the distance, the silhouette of the Beaumont Grand Hotel loomed through the smog—the site of the wedding. “I’m not a bird waiting for a woman to regret her choices.” A hawk circled high above the skyscrapers. My eyes sharpened, locking onto the horizon. “I am a hunter. And a hunter doesn’t wait for an apology. He waits for the kill.” … The day of the wedding arrived. The ballroom was a sea of silk and diamonds, the air thick with the scent of a thousand lilies. But the “Golden Hour” passed, and the groom was nowhere to be found. Camilla’s patience was fraying. Her eyes were dark with a burgeoning rage. Just as she was about to snap at her coordinator, the massive oak doors swung open. Every head turned. It wasn’t the groom. It was a courier in a simple uniform, carrying a large, white gift box. “A gift for Miss Camilla Beaumont,” he announced. Camilla waved him off. “I don’t have time for this!” The courier held his ground. “The sender said it was vital you open it yourself. He said you would regret it for the rest of your life if you didn’t.” Camilla froze. Just as I had planned, she stepped forward and tore the lid off the box. As she saw what was inside, the color drained from her face, leaving her as pale as the lilies surrounding her.

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The fake heiress recorded a video, weeping to the camera about my supposed abuse. My parents and my fiancé stood right behind her, nodding in solemn agreement, testifying to my cruelty. Overnight, the internet became a tidal wave of vitriol, drowning my name in curses and death threats. If that wasn’t enough, my father cornered me in the hallway, his face flushed with righteous indignation, demanding I issue a public apology to my “sister.” What he didn’t know was that his real daughter was already dead. The thing breathing inside her body right now? Just a wandering, damned soul. With all of them watching, I shoved her down the sweeping marble staircase. “An apology? Sure,” I said, leaning over the banister. “But only if she actually breaks her leg.” …… I am a damned thing. A revenant. A ghost who learned the hard way that if you don’t bare your teeth, the world will swallow you whole. And somehow, I have woken up inside the body of Caroline Stanford. Caroline’s luck was truly tragic. She was the biological daughter of the Stanford dynasty, stolen away and lost for years. When she finally clawed her way back home, she found no warmth, no tears of joy. Just a cold house and parents who couldn’t look her in the eye. Instead, all their love had been siphoned off by the imposter—the cheap, surrogate sister who had occupied Caroline’s rightful place. This girl survived entirely on weaponized pity, playing the eternal victim, bewitching everyone around her. It culminated on Caroline’s eighteenth birthday. The entire family—including Caroline’s own fiancé—abandoned her to attend the fake sister’s prestigious conservatory piano showcase. Left alone in a sprawling, empty mansion, suffocating under the weight of her own insignificance, Caroline drew a blade across her wrists and bled out in the porcelain tub. The moment her heart stopped, my unfortunate soul slipped right in. Sifting through the shattered fragments of Caroline’s memories, I found myself thoroughly fascinated by this sister of hers, Belinda. I hadn’t realized the living could be so exquisitely, ruthlessly selfish, caring for absolutely nothing but their own survival. It was almost touching. It meant my kind had heirs in the mortal world. I pulled myself up from the cold, blood-stained water of the bathtub. I wrapped a haphazard towel around the jagged cuts on my wrists, threw on a hoodie, and called an Uber to the Stanford estate in Greenwich. The Stanfords possessed generational, obscene wealth. Yet, they had forced Caroline to take up menial part-time jobs, dressing up their neglect under the guise of “building her independence.” I immediately pulled out her phone and quit the diner job. Was it a joke? Why on earth would a trust-fund kid clock in for minimum wage? I wasn’t out of my mind. When I pushed open the heavy mahogany doors of the estate, the shock on the housekeeper’s face was palpable. I strolled past her, unimpeded, straight into the grand living room. There, nestled on the velvet sofa, was Belinda, her arms wrapped tightly around my fiancé, Carlton. Seeing me, Belinda didn’t pull away. She pressed herself even closer against his chest. The polite smiles on Richard and Margaret Stanford’s faces vanished the second they saw me. “Caroline? What are you doing here?” Richard demanded. I didn’t answer him. My eyes were locked dead onto Belinda. Sensing my gaze, her lower lip quivered. She instantly slipped into her pathetic, wounded-fawn routine. “Sister, you have everything now. I just wanted Mom, Dad, and Carlton to come see my performance. You’re not mad at me, are you?” “Why would she be mad? Hasn’t she taken enough of your things and your place in this family already?” Carlton let out a cold, derisive scoff, the disgust in his voice thick and unfiltered. Ah. I had miscalculated. It wasn’t just Belinda who was rotted through. This entire house was a cesspool. Not a single decent human being among them. I slowly raised my arm, letting the blood-soaked towel around my wrist dangle in the light. “Sister. You have Mom. You have Dad. You have my fiancé. All I wanted was to breathe, to stay alive. You wouldn’t force me to die, would you?” Belinda’s expression froze. A flicker of genuine panic crossed her eyes, but she was a professional. In a blink, the tears spilled over her lashes, fat and perfectly timed. Richard couldn’t stand to see his precious girl cry. He lunged forward, his hand cracking sharply across my cheek. “What kind of sick thing is that to say?!” he roared. “Are you trying to make Belinda feel guilty to death?!” I let the momentum of the slap carry me. I collapsed onto the Persian rug. Before I even had to fake a sob, Belinda’s trembling voice filled the room. “It’s fine, Dad. Let it go. I know my sister hates me. It’s okay. I’ll… I’ll just pack my things and move out.” She sobbed, her voice cracking beautifully. Yet, I noticed, she didn’t make a single move to stand up from the couch. Lying there on the floor, looking up at her, I felt a strange sense of awe. She was practically glowing in my eyes. I had an epiphany. The absolute zenith of selfishness is the ability to convince the world that you are a saint. “Listen to your sister!” Richard practically shoved his finger into my eye. “Look at the grace she has! Do you think everyone in the world is as vile and self-centered as you?!” I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to conjure a single tear, but as a ghost, I simply didn’t have the hardware for it. Crying was impossible. Giving up, I pushed myself off the rug, dusted off my cheap jeans, and plopped down onto a plush armchair, casually crossing one leg over the other. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right,” I said, waving a hand dismissively. “She has the heart of an angel. She’s obedient and sweet. I’m selfish and greedy. Therefore, I’m moving back in.” Richard’s mouth dropped open. He stared at me like I had sprouted horns. When Caroline had originally moved out, it had technically been her own suggestion. But she had only fled because she was suffocating under the toxic atmosphere and Belinda’s daily, insidious gaslighting. I, however, was built differently. As long as I was comfortable, I couldn’t care less how much they hated me. “Enough!” Carlton’s shout echoed off the vaulted ceiling, so loud it nearly rattled my soul loose from Caroline’s body. He stood up, shielding Belinda behind his broad shoulders, glaring at me like I was vermin. “Caroline, I am not going to let you bully Belinda anymore. What gives you the right to stay in this house?!” I stared at him. The sheer, unadulterated audacity. Even when I was alive, I had never heard a man speak with such shameless entitlement. I was beginning to realize that the only reason I had become a formidable ghost back in my day was simply a lack of modern competition. “It’s okay, Carlton,” Belinda whimpered, clutching his shirt. “She is Mom and Dad’s biological daughter, after all. I…” She offered a brave, wobbly smile that was uglier than a frown. It was a masterclass. I almost wanted to applaud. So, I did. The sharp, rhythmic clapping of my hands cut through the tension. Everyone froze, looking at me with absolute bewilderment. “Beautifully said,” I grinned. “So forgiving. You see, Dad? Since my sweet sister says it’s fine, I’ll be staying. After all, like she said, I am your actual blood.” Without waiting for Richard’s brain to reboot, I turned on my heel and headed for the stairs, following the layout from Caroline’s memories. Carlton’s curses faded behind me as I hummed a light tune, my steps bouncing. But when I pushed open the door to Caroline’s old room, I stopped dead in my tracks. My nose wrinkled in disgust. This cramped, sunless, depressing little box? Did they really expect someone of my elegant, refined stature to sleep in a closet? Without a second thought, I slammed the door shut and began pacing the hallway, inspecting the other rooms. I stopped in front of a heavy, ornate double door. It smelled like expensive perfume and privilege. I reached for the handle, but a roar echoed up the staircase. “Stop right there! Don’t you dare touch that door!” It was Richard. He was storming up the stairs, Margaret right on his heels, her face twisted in rage. “Caroline! That is your sister’s room!” Margaret shrieked. I raised an eyebrow. Oh, really? Beginner’s luck. I had picked the best suite in the house on the first try. “Is it?” I murmured, casually turning the knob and pushing the doors open. The contrast was staggering. The space was massive, bathed in natural light, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the manicured gardens. It was a sanctuary of custom silk drapery and plush velvet. Behind her parents, Belinda began to weep, playing her part flawlessly. “Sister, I know you resent me. But… but Mom and Dad designed this room specifically for me. I’ll give you anything else, I swear. Please, sister, give me my room back.” It was a touching monologue, but I could read the panic in her eyes. She was terrified of losing her territory. Predictably, Richard and Margaret ate it up. They swarmed her, cooing and hugging her as if she’d just been diagnosed with a terminal illness. I leaned against the doorframe, crossing my arms. “Are you done? Because the answer is no.” Belinda choked on her sob, completely blindsided. She clearly hadn’t anticipated a flat, emotionless rejection. Moral kidnapping was her specialty; she wasn’t used to a victim without morals. Taking advantage of her shock, I stepped inside and moved to shut the door, but Richard lunged forward, grabbing my wrist in a vice grip. His fingers dug perfectly, entirely by chance, into my freshly sliced veins. He didn’t notice, or simply didn’t care. His face was red with fury. “Caroline Stanford! This belongs to Belinda! Can’t you, for once in your miserable life, be the bigger person and let your sister have something?!” Fortunately, a ghost feels no physical pain. I slowly wrenched my arm out of his grasp. The hastily wrapped cuts tore open again, fresh blood seeping through the white terrycloth, dripping onto the hardwood floor. Richard glanced at the blood, his eyes cold. Not a flicker of remorse. “Sorry, no can do,” I chirped, giving him a dead-eyed smile. “And if you keep harassing me, be careful. I might just leak a few secrets to the press.” Before he could unleash whatever curse was building in his throat, I slammed the heavy door in his face and locked it. The Stanfords had never publicly acknowledged Caroline as their biological daughter. Back then, they had gagged her with excuses about “protecting the company’s stock” and “maintaining family stability.” But what did the Stanford dynasty’s PR mean to me? If they pushed me, I was more than happy to drag us all straight to hell. I threw myself onto Belinda’s massive, cloud-like bed and pulled out the phone. Over the years, the real Caroline had been so beaten down, so painfully insecure, that she didn’t have a single close friend. When I opened Instagram, her feed was a wasteland. But the trending pages? They were plastered with glowing reviews of Belinda’s piano recital, interspersed with nauseatingly perfect paparazzi shots of Belinda and Carlton—the “childhood sweethearts.” Timing is everything. A notification popped up: Belinda had just posted. I clicked on it. It was a highly filtered, carefully angled selfie, her eyes looking tragically glassy. Caption: My big sister finally came home today. I gave her my bedroom. Even though Mom and Dad built this room just for me, it doesn’t matter. As long as she’s happy, I’m happy. As expected, the comments were a bloodbath of hatred aimed at Caroline. To the public, Caroline was just an ungrateful, adopted charity case. How could she ever compare to the delicate, talented biological heiress? I smirked. I went into the settings, changed the handle to my real, full name, and cracked my knuckles. Time to go unhinged. I replied to her post: “Gave it to me? Or did I have to pry it from your cold, manipulative hands?” Then another: “Wow, guys. Are there actually people out there who sob to their parents in the hallway and then immediately run to Instagram to play Mother Teresa?” My comments were instantly flooded by Belinda’s rabid fan base. With her “piano prodigy” label and her old-money aesthetic, she had the online pull of an A-list celebrity. “You are disgusting! A stray dog taking the real daughter’s room!” one user wrote. Is that what they thought? In a stellar mood, I replied to that comment. “I think you make a great point. She really is just a stray.” Because of the sheer controversy, my reply was algorithmically boosted to the top of the comment section. Within three minutes, Belinda deleted the entire post. Free from having to look at her curated, teary face, I bounced off the mattress and opened the walk-in closet. It was packed with Belinda’s clothes. An endless sea of pastel pinks, ruffled tulle, and infantile innocence. Absolutely nothing in my aesthetic. I had finally possessed a rich girl. I wasn’t going to sit around in rags. It was time to swipe some plastic. I swung the bedroom door open, entirely intending to go shopping, only to find Belinda marching down the hall toward me. We were alone. The mask was completely gone. Her face was contorted in sheer, unadulterated rage. She closed the distance and grabbed me by the collar of my cheap hoodie. “Caroline, what the fuck are you doing online?! Didn’t you learn your lesson the last time?!” God, I wished her little internet fans could see her now. The high-class, untouchable goddess, snarling like a rabid dog. I raised a single brow, keeping my face infuriatingly serene. “What’s wrong? I was just telling the truth.” Belinda ground her teeth so hard I legitimately worried her veneers would crack. She shoved me backward, lifting her chin with that familiar, sickening arrogance. “Listen to me, you pathetic bitch. Don’t think for a second that just because you have their blood, you’ve won. I forced you out of this house once. I can easily throw you out again.” And then, without breaking eye contact, Belinda reached over to the console table, grabbed a heavy porcelain vase, and smashed it directly against her own forehead. She let out a blood-curdling scream as the porcelain shattered. Dark red blood immediately began pouring down her face. Footsteps thundered up the stairs. Margaret appeared at the end of the hall, her face draining of color. “Belinda! Oh my god, what happened?!” She dropped to her knees, pulling Belinda’s bleeding head into her lap, frantically inspecting the wound. But when Margaret looked up at me, her panic crystallized into pure hatred. “Mom, I’m fine,” Belinda whimpered, her voice frail and shaking. “Don’t be mad at my sister. She… she just wants to be a part of this family so badly…” I had to hand it to her; Belinda was ruthless. The gash on her forehead was deep. Just looking at it gave me a phantom headache. Margaret carefully helped Belinda to her feet, unleashing a torrent of venom in my direction. “How did I give birth to something as vile as you?! Hasn’t Belinda been kind enough to you?! Why must you destroy everything she touches?!” “You never should have come back! You should have just died in the gutter where you belonged!” This was Caroline’s biological mother. She finished screaming at me and turned, supporting Belinda’s weight, ready to rush her to the hospital. But why would I let myself get cursed out for free? “Did I say you could leave?” I asked, my voice dangerously soft. Margaret whipped her head around. “What more could you possibly want?! Caroline, I swear to God—” She never finished the sentence. Because I had already picked up the matching vase from the other side of the console table and smashed it across the other side of Belinda’s head. This time, the scream was real. She was genuinely terrified. I looked down at the blood streaming symmetrically down both sides of her face and finally gave them a bright, sunny smile. “You see?” I said. “Now it’s a matching set. Much prettier.”

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The rescue scene at the edge of the cliff was a circus of sirens and blinding floodlights. A reporter shoved a microphone toward me the second I was pulled up, her eyes gleaming with the hunger for a viral headline. “Mrs. Steven, your husband just chose to save Miss Vance first, claiming that as a police captain’s daughter, you’re ‘built tougher.’ How do you feel about that?” I clutched the scratchy wool of the rescue blanket around my shoulders, trying to hide the blood soaking through my leggings. My gaze drifted to Hudson, who was across the perimeter, cradling his childhood sweetheart in his arms as if she were made of spun glass. I forced a jagged smile for the camera. “He’s right. I guess I’m tough enough to survive a cliffside fall with a baby in my womb.” The reporter gasped, the air whistling through her teeth. She froze for a beat before her voice trembled. “So… Mr. Steven knew you were pregnant?” 1 Hudson finally tore his eyes away from Melody and looked at me. I was shivering, huddled under the emergency blanket, a stark contrast to the girl he was protecting. He walked over, his brow furrowed in a sharp line of irritation. “Jade, I know you’re upset, but this isn’t the time for a tantrum,” he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. “The cameras are everywhere. Don’t drag Melody into a scandal.” The reporter was still hovering, waiting for a comment. Hudson turned to the lens, instantly regaining that effortless, commanding composure that made him the darling of the business world. “My wife is just shaken up and talking nonsense. Please, don’t take it seriously.” He looked back at his security detail, his voice turning to ice. “Take my wife to the hospital. Make sure she doesn’t say anything else to the press.” Without another word, he turned back, scooped Melody into his arms, and headed for the lead ambulance. Melody clung to his neck, her voice thin and wavering. “Hudson… is Jade mad? Maybe you should go with her. I’ll be fine, really…” Hudson leaned down, his voice softening into a murmur I hadn’t heard in months. “Shh, don’t think like that. She’s fine. She used to pop her own shoulder back into place when we were kids—this is nothing to her. But your heart condition… we need to get you to the ER now.” The ambulance doors slammed shut, cutting off the world. I sat there on the frozen dirt, clutching my lower abdomen as a dull, rhythmic throb began to pulse through my gut. My world was turning cold, inch by agonizing inch. A paramedic looked at me with a pained, awkward expression. “Mrs. Steven, the ambulances are at capacity. We’re waiting on another unit, or…” I swallowed hard, fighting the black spots dancing in my vision. “It’s fine. I’ll find my own way.” At the hospital, I navigated the fluorescent-lit hallways alone. I stood in line, filled out the forms, and waited. When the ultrasound tech finally handed me the results, the words felt like lead on the paper: Threatened miscarriage. Immediate bed rest recommended. My heart twisted into a knot. As I rounded the corner toward the pharmacy, I saw them. Hudson was half-kneeling in front of Melody in a private waiting area, holding a cup of lukewarm water with focused intensity. “Slowly,” he whispered. “It’s still hot.” Melody looked at him, her eyes wide and watery. “You’re so good to me, Hudson. If Jade saw this, she’d just misunderstand again, wouldn’t she?” Hudson offered a faint, tired smile. “She’s not that petty. Besides, we grew up together. She knows how things are. She should understand.” I stood there, a wave of nausea rolling over me that had nothing to do with the pregnancy. I looked down at the ultrasound printout in my hand. Without thinking, I crumpled it into a ball. I turned to leave, but my hip caught a metal trash can, sending it clattering across the linoleum. Both of them looked up. The moment Hudson saw it was me, the tenderness vanished from his face. He stood up and walked toward me. Seeing that I was standing upright and looking “fine,” his expression relaxed into a mask of professional annoyance. “Since you’re okay, I’ll have PR draft a statement.” He reached out to brush a stray hair from my face, but I flinched away. He didn’t look angry, just sighed with the weary patience of a man dealing with a difficult child. “The online narrative is already turning ugly, Jade. People are saying I abandoned my pregnant wife for another woman. I need you to go on record. Tell them the pregnancy thing was just something you said in the heat of the moment to get attention.” He adjusted his cufflink. “You’re the wife of the CEO. Be the bigger person here. It helps her, and it protects the company’s image.” I looked at this man—the man I had loved for five years—and he felt like a stranger speaking a dead language. “Hudson,” I said, my voice sounding like it was coming from underwater. “What if I told you the baby isn’t going to make it?” Hudson’s jaw tightened. “Jade, enough. Melody has a heart condition; she can’t handle this kind of stress. Do you want her to live with that guilt forever? You were a damn war correspondent—you’ve stared down mortars without blinking. Now you’re acting like a spoiled brat because of a pregnancy scare?” A spoiled brat. Because I was strong, I deserved to be abandoned. Because she was fragile, I had to bleed in silence. I looked at him and felt a laugh bubbling up—a sharp, jagged thing. “Understood. If you’re so worried about Miss Vance’s conscience, maybe you should just give her my title. It would be cleaner.” Hudson’s face darkened. “Don’t be ridiculous. She’s like a sister to me. I thought you were better than this, Jade. I didn’t think you’d stoop to being this manipulative.” Manipulative. I took a shaky breath and, without a word, tossed the crumpled ultrasound report into the trash can beside us. “Right. I’m the difficult one. Go back to her, Hudson. Don’t waste your precious time here.” I turned and walked toward the elevator. “Jade!” he called out, his voice vibrating with suppressed rage. “You want to go cool off? Fine. But remember this: if you walk out that door, don’t expect to come crawling back until you’ve learned to drop the attitude and lose the thorns!” As the elevator doors slid shut, I saw Melody slip her hand into his. He looked down at her, his expression melting back into that soft, protective glow. I leaned against the cold metal wall, and the tears finally came. He was right about one thing. I did need to reflect. I needed to reflect on how I could have been so blind to love a man who would watch me drown just to keep someone else’s feet dry. 2 The doctor’s warning echoed in my head: Stay in bed, or you lose the baby. I dragged my exhausted body back to our penthouse, only to stop dead at the foyer. There was a pair of designer stilettos by the door. I’d been wearing nothing but flats lately because of the swelling. Those weren’t mine. My heart hammered against my ribs. I pushed the door open. In the living room, the TV was humming. Melody was curled up on our sofa, wearing one of Hudson’s oversized white dress shirts, her pale legs tucked under her as she ate fruit from a bowl. Hudson was sitting right beside her, a laptop balanced on his knees. At the sound of the door, Melody turned, a sweet, practiced smile on her lips. “Jade! You’re back. Hudson was so worried about me after everything today, he insisted I stay the night. You don’t mind, do you?” Hudson set his laptop aside and stood up, reaching for my bag. “How was the doctor? Everything okay?” I stood frozen. My eyes weren’t on him. They were locked onto the silver whistle hanging around Melody’s neck. It was an old, tarnished police whistle. My father’s whistle. Before he died in the line of duty, he had placed that whistle in Hudson’s hand. He told Hudson it was a symbol—that Hudson was taking over the watch. That he was responsible for my safety now. Hudson had sworn back then: As long as I have this, I will protect her with my life. I lunged forward, grabbing the cold metal. “Why are you touching this?” I choked out. Melody let out a startled cry, and the tears were instant. “I—I’ve been having nightmares since the cliff. Hudson said this was a lucky charm… that it was meant to keep people safe. I just wanted to feel safe for one night…” Hudson immediately stepped between us, shoving me back and pulling Melody behind him. He checked the biometric monitor on her wrist, and seeing no alert, he turned on me with a face full of loathing. “Jade! What the hell is wrong with you? It’s an old trinket. If it gives her peace of mind, let her have it for a few days. You’re a cop’s daughter, for god’s sake. You’re the strongest woman I know. Do you really need a piece of silver to feel secure?” It wasn’t about security. It was the only piece of my father I had left. The light inside me, the last flickering ember of my love for him, went out. “Hudson,” I said, my voice dead. “Do you even remember what that whistle represents?” Hudson groaned, his impatience flared. “I know your dad gave it to me. But a dead object isn’t more important than a living person. Melody needs it right now. Can’t you just be the bigger person for once?” I looked at the whistle clutched in Melody’s hand. Suddenly, both the object and the man felt tainted. Filthy. I turned and walked into the study. I sat at the desk, opened a new document, and typed out a divorce settlement. I hit print. Hudson, if this baby doesn’t survive, we are done. I went into the bedroom, tucked the papers into the hidden lining of my suitcase, and started throwing clothes inside. Hudson walked in a moment later, his bravado wavering when he saw the suitcase. “It’s the middle of the night. Where are you going?” “This house feels dirty,” I said, not looking at him as I zipped the bag. “I’m going to the hospital to save my child.” Hudson froze, then his face turned a deep, ugly red. “Save the child? You can do that here. You’re just using this pregnancy to hold me hostage, aren’t you?” “Because I chose her over you at the cliff? It was an emergency, Jade! She has a condition!” I slammed the suitcase shut, the sound echoing like a gunshot. “Hudson, do you remember what you told my father at his funeral?” “You said you’d spend the rest of your life being my shield.” “Now, you’ve given my shield to someone else. It’s poetic, really.” I brushed past him, dragging my suitcase through the living room without a single glance at Melody. Hudson chased me to the door, grabbing my wrist. “Jade! If you walk out this door over a stupid piece of jewelry, don’t you dare think about coming back! I mean it!” I looked back at him, my eyes as calm as a graveyard. “That’s the plan.” I wrenched my arm free, opened the door, and stepped out into the black, rain-slicked night. Behind me, I heard Hudson’s muffled roar of frustration and the sound of something expensive shattering against a wall. I touched my stomach and whispered, “Don’t be scared, little one. It’s just us now.” 3 I spent three days in a hospital bed. Hudson didn’t call once. Instead, my mother-in-law called. Her tone was, as always, brittle and condescending. “Jade, you are expected at the charity gala tonight.” “The press is having a field day with Hudson’s ‘choice’ at the cliff. The Steven Group’s stock is dipping. As Hudson’s wife, you will show up, you will smile, and you will put these rumors to bed.” I stared out the window at the gray Seattle sky. “I’m in the hospital, Beatrice. I’m at risk of a miscarriage.” “Miscarriage?” she scoffed. “Please. You’re a cop’s daughter; you’re not that fragile. Don’t use a phantom pregnancy to play for sympathy. If you aren’t at that gala, don’t bother ever showing your face at a family function again.” The line went dead. That afternoon, an assistant delivered a garment bag. It was a loose-fitting black silk gown and a pair of designer flats. The note from Hudson read: I told them you weren’t feeling well. Wear this. It’s comfortable. Touching the soft fabric, a pathetic, tiny part of me wondered… Does he care? A little? I put on the dress. I did my makeup to hide the ghostly pallor of my skin. The gala was a sea of glittering diamonds and forced laughter. Hudson was there, looking dashing in a custom tuxedo, with Melody on his arm. Melody was also in black, but her dress was a shimmering, tight-fitting mermaid gown encrusted with crystals. She looked like a star. I, in my loose silk and flats, looked like a bloated shadow beside them. The whispers started the moment I walked in. “Is that the wife? Why is she dressed like that?” “Well, she’s a cop’s daughter. I guess she doesn’t understand high fashion.” “Look at how Hudson looks at Miss Vance. He just peeled a shrimp for her. The marriage is clearly a sham.” Hudson gave me a cursory glance. “You made it. If you’re tired, go sit in the corner. Don’t make a scene.” Then he turned to Melody, his voice dropping into that tender register. “Mel, are you hungry? I’ll go get you some of those crab cakes you like.” I stood alone in the center of the room, my fingers digging into my palms. The climax of the night was the silent auction. The showpiece was a ruby necklace called “The Eternal Heart.” Starting bid: five million. Melody’s eyes lit up when she saw it. Hudson smiled, that indulgent, protective smile, and raised his paddle. “Ten million.” The room erupted in murmurs. “Twelve million,” someone countered. Hudson didn’t blink. “Fifteen million.” People began to whisper, “It must be an anniversary gift for his wife. How romantic.” I sat in my corner, hearing the compliments, feeling like I was made of ice. Our anniversary. He actually remembered. “Twenty million!” Hudson shouted. The room went silent. Hudson stood up, took the velvet box from the presenter, and turned. But he didn’t turn toward me. He turned toward Melody. “Stop crying,” he whispered. He lifted the breathtaking rubies and, in front of everyone, fastened them around Melody’s neck. “Rubies are supposed to be good for the heart,” he said loud enough for the front rows to hear. “They suit you much better than a tattered silver whistle.” Melody beamed, touching the gems with trembling fingers. “Oh, Hudson… it’s beautiful. So much better than that old thing. Thank you!” Every eye in the room pivoted to me. Pity. Scorn. Schaudenfreude. The stares felt like slaps across my face, stinging and hot. And then, a white-hot spike of pain lanced through my abdomen. I felt a sudden, warm rush of fluid down my legs. My face went translucent. Cold sweat broke out across my brow. I reached for my bag to find my medication, but my hand shook so violently I knocked over a glass of red wine. Hudson looked over, his eyes snapping with irritation. My phone buzzed. A text from him: I just spent twenty million to get that whistle back for you. Are you satisfied? I know you’re still throwing a fit, but stop acting like someone died. Put a smile on your face and stop embarrassing the family. I looked at the screen until the words blurred into a gray smear. I didn’t have the strength to reply. I braced myself against the table and stood up, inching toward the restroom. Hudson… is this your anniversary gift to me? 4 The restroom mirror showed a woman who looked like a corpse. I gripped the sink, gasping for air. The black silk of my dress was soaked, blood trailing down my legs and onto the white marble floor. “Oh my god! Are you okay? Someone help! She’s bleeding!” A passing waitress screamed. “Ambulance…” I managed to choke out. “Call an ambulance…” Darkness rushed in to meet me, and I collapsed. When I woke, I was on a gurney. The lights above were blinding. A doctor, his gown stained with red, leaned over me. “We have massive hemorrhaging! We need to get her into surgery now! Where is the family? I need a signature!” Family? I wanted to laugh, but I couldn’t move my lips. “I… I’ll sign…” “No! We need a next of kin! This is critical—you might not make it off the table!” the doctor roared. A nurse handed me my phone. “Call your husband! Now!” With trembling fingers, I dialed the number I knew by heart. Ring… ring… ring… Each tone was a serrated blade. On the third call, he picked up. “Jade? What kind of stunt are you pulling now? Why did you leave the gala? Do you have any idea how that looks to my mother? To the board?” “Melody was just asking for you. She wants to give the whistle back. Where the hell are you?” His voice was a barrage of accusations. “Hudson,” I whispered, my voice a thread of silk. “I’m at the hospital… the baby…” CRACK! A massive thunderclap shook the hospital windows as a storm broke over the city. Hudson’s voice immediately shifted—soft, protective. “It’s okay, Mel. I’ve got you.” Then, over the line, I heard him begin to hum. It was Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. On every stormy night for five years, he had held me and hummed that song until I fell asleep. He called it “our song for the dark.” Now, he was singing it to her. “Jade, I have to go. Melody has always been terrified of thunder. I’ll call you later.” Click. I let the phone slip from my fingers. I looked at the blood on my hands and felt my soul turn to ash. “Doctor,” I said, my voice suddenly steady. “Give me the pen.” I gripped his hand. “I’m signing for myself. Save me. Forget the baby… it’s already gone.” The pen scratched across the paper. Jade Steven. Two words. Shaky, but final. A goodbye to the woman I used to be. Under the cold surgical lights, the instruments moved inside me, scraping away the last remnants of our life together. I refused the general anesthesia. I wanted to feel the pain. I wanted to remember the exact moment I killed my own heart. And the moment Hudson killed the woman who loved him. As the pain peaked and my consciousness frayed, I remembered the day we found out I was pregnant. Hudson had rubbed my belly and laughed like a boy. “Jade, I’m going to spend the rest of my life making sure you’re the happiest woman on earth.” Hudson, you’re a liar. When they wheeled me out of surgery, I heard frantic footsteps at the end of the hall. Hudson was there, drenched from the rain, hair disheveled, clutching that silver whistle in his hand. He saw me and stopped dead. “Jade…” his voice cracked. “What happened?” His eyes fell on the blood-stained consent form on the clipboard at the foot of my bed. His pupils dilated. “Miscarriage? …The baby?” He lunged forward, but the nurse shoved him back with a glare. “The patient just had an emergency D&C. She’s extremely weak. Keep your voice down.” Hudson staggered back as if he’d been punched. “D&C? No… that can’t be…” The pain was a dull roar now. I lay there, drenched in sweat. Looking at his shattered expression, I felt… nothing. Not even hate. “Jade,” he whispered, his eyes red. “This isn’t funny. If you’re doing this to punish me for the cliff… you win. Okay? You win. Just tell me the baby is okay.” He pressed the silver whistle into my hand, his voice a pathetic plea. “Look! I got it back! I took it back from her! Please, don’t scare me like this. Tell me he’s okay.” The silver was cold against my palm. It would never be warm again. I forced my eyes open and looked at him. I gave him a small, tired smile. “The baby is dead, Hudson.” “And I want a divorce.”

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The golden child threw herself out the window, screaming that I pushed her. What she didn’t know was that I had just been tethered to the Loop System. A digital parasite in my brain that allowed me to select any single action she made and force her to repeat it. One hundred times. By the time the golden child had crawled back up to the second floor like a reanimated corpse, hurling herself out the window for the hundredth consecutive time, our biased parents and our darling brother had completely lost their minds. 1. “Helen, you are so dead. Mom and Dad are never going to forgive you for this.” Beverly flashed me a wicked, gleeful smile. Then, without missing a beat, she tipped backward and plummeted out the second-story window. She landed squarely in the thick hydrangea bushes lining the estate’s foundation. The landscaper, who had been watering the beds, let out a bloodcurdling scream. My parents and my brother, Brooks, practically tore the patio doors off their hinges as they sprinted from the sunroom into the yard. The moment they saw Beverly lying there, the air was sucked right out of the world. Panic, raw and suffocating, took over. My mother immediately broke into a wailing sob. My father was frantically punching 911 into his phone. Brooks dropped to his knees in the dirt beside Beverly, his voice cracking in absolute devastation. “Beverly… oh my god, how did this happen?! Who? Who did this to you?!” Trembling, Beverly raised a pale arm, strategically scratched by the thorny branches, stark and beautifully tragic against the pristine white tulle of her dress. She pointed a shaking finger up at the second-floor window. Up at me. “Brooks…” she whimpered, her voice a masterclass in fragile innocence. “I don’t know what I did wrong… My sister, she… it hurts so much…” Instantly, three pairs of eyes snapped upward, glaring at me. Whatever thin, polite veneer we had maintained since I moved in was gone. There was no biological affection here, no familial bond. The pure, unadulterated hatred radiating from them was reserved solely for me—the sudden intruder, the biological anomaly who had dared to harm their carefully cultivated, deeply cherished daughter and sister. Perhaps in my past life, the naked cruelty in their stares would have pierced right through my chest. But right now? My blood was singing. System, I thought, the command cold and precise in my mind. That exact jumping motion. Lock it in. Repeat one hundred times. 2. In my last life, Beverly’s little stunt worked flawlessly. She walked away with a few cosmetic scrapes, but it was enough to ignite a blinding fury in the Prescott family. They rushed upstairs, dragged me to the floor, and kicked and beat me until my ribs splintered and my organs ruptured. While they were speeding in the back of an ambulance to get Beverly a designer band-aid, I bled to death on the hardwood floor alone. After I died, my soul floated untethered, and the sky above me filled with lines of glowing, scrolling text: [The real daughter is so pathetic!! The Prescott family are absolute trash, they all deserve to die!!!] [If the author wanted to write a villainous fake-sister trope, fine, but don’t do the innocent girl dirty like this! Using a helpless side character’s brutal death just to establish the fake sister’s ‘mean girl’ status is crossing a massive line. This isn’t satisfying at all!] [This family is just a bunch of soulless NPCs like in every other switched-at-birth trope! If the plot doesn’t change and they don’t get what’s coming to them, I’m reporting this entire book!] [Resurrect the real daughter!! Let her get revenge!!] Revenge revenge revenge revenge revenge revenge revenge revenge… The glitching, manic text entirely consumed my vision. That was the moment I realized I wasn’t a real person. I was cannon fodder. The tragic, biological daughter in a melodramatic web novel where Beverly was the twisted, untouchable female lead. [The readers are review-bombing this to hell. It’s getting too unhinged. You know what? Take this Loop System. I’m dropping this manuscript. You handle the rest! I’m out!] A voice—presumably the author’s—echoed in the void before vanishing completely. And then, I woke up. Reborn, mere seconds before Beverly’s theatrical leap, with the [Loop System] humming quietly in my temporal lobe. Looking at her smug, artificially playful face, the phantom aches of a hundred kicks from my past life rushed through my veins, hot and demanding. In my last life, I was slaughtered by the plot. In this life, I was going to let this family experience the sheer, unrelenting terror of a protagonist with a cheat code. “Helen Prescott!! Are you out of your damn mind?! You pushed Beverly?! Get down here right now!!” Just like before, Brooks thundered up the stairs. He didn’t care that I was a hundred-pound girl who had grown up malnourished in foster care. He raised his fist, ready to strike— “Ahhh!!!!! Beverly!!! Beverly, where are you going?!” This time, however, my mother’s hysterical shriek from the yard stopped his fist in mid-air. He instinctively looked down out the window. Down in the flowerbed, Beverly had suddenly snapped upright, stiff as a wooden plank. Her head hung low, chin touching her chest, and her legs began to move in a rapid, inhuman blur, sprinting toward the house with the jerky, terrifying cadence of a malfunctioning animatronic. She scurried up the stairs so fast she practically blurred, slamming her shoulder into Brooks and knocking him entirely out of the doorway. She marched straight to the window in front of me and hoisted herself onto the sill, perching there. Her eyes were completely glazed over, dead and vacant, but her mouth moved perfectly to deliver her opening line: “Helen, you are so dead. Mom and Dad are never going to forgive you for this.” Then, she tipped backward. CRACK. She hit the bushes again. “Ahhhhhhhhhh!!!” Downstairs, my mother and the landscaper shrieked in unison. My father stood frozen, his jaw slack. His phone slipped from his fingers and shattered on the patio stones. “Beverly!!!” Brooks screamed, a sound tearing his throat raw, and he bolted down the stairs. He didn’t even make it to the front door. Beverly was already coming back up. BANG! She plowed into him again, knocking the breath from his lungs, and scrambled onto the windowsill. “Helen, you are so dead. Mom and Dad are never going to forgive you for this.” Over she went. “Grab her!! Stop her!!” my parents finally snapped out of their stupor, bellowing at the top of their lungs. Brooks lunged. “Beverly!!” BANG!! Smashed aside again. And over she went. “Beverly!” THUD. “Beverly!!” THUD. “Watch her face—oh my god, her face!!!!” THUD. By the tenth repetition, Beverly’s speed had exponentially increased, defying all laws of physics. She was moving five times faster than a normal human. When she hit Brooks this time, she launched him into the air. He crashed hard onto the first-floor landing, his designer glasses splintering across the hardwood. That was the beauty of the Loop. The speed compounded, and with speed came terrifying, unnatural momentum. My parents threw themselves at her, tackling her around the waist in a desperate double-team to pin her down. Instead, her momentum simply dragged them across fifteen feet of manicured lawn. The abrasive patio stones sheared a layer of skin right off their arms, chests, and backs. They howled in agony. “Are you insane?! You’re running over your own parents?!” “Stop! Stop right now! Do you hear me?!!” They screamed the words, but the truth was, none of them dared to touch her again. They scrambled backward, pressing themselves into the corner of the patio, leaving a wide, terrified berth between the doorway and the stairs. All they could do was watch, eyes bulging with pure horror, as Beverly sprinted up the stairs again, and again, and again. Every single loop was punctuated by my mother’s agonizing wails. And this was only loop twenty-five. 3. By the time Beverly executed her fifty-fifth jump, the sun had set. She had entered the peak of her glitching state. She was moving so fast she left afterimages in the twilight. My mother had entirely run out of tears. The grief had been hollowed out, replaced by a suffocating, primal terror. And how could it not? When Beverly planned her little stunt, she had calculated the trajectory perfectly to ensure only superficial cuts. A little pain for a lot of sympathy. But no human body is meant to endure a second-story drop fifty times in a row. No body is meant to have the same scratches ripped open half a hundred times. The Beverly that was currently looping was a shredded, bloody mess. Her dress was in tatters, painted in dark crimson strokes, her limbs operating solely on the mechanical willpower of the System. When she scurried out from the pitch-black doorway of the ground floor, she looked like a charred, skittering spider. Up close, it was straight out of a horror movie. Who wouldn’t be trembling? “Mom! Dad! Do something!!! If she keeps jumping like this, she’s going to break into pieces!” Only Brooks was still trying to save her. Ignorance was bliss. Without his glasses, he couldn’t actually see the gruesome, twitching entity that was currently crawling across the floorboards. My mother’s vocal cords had ruptured; she was slumped against my father’s shoulder, completely unresponsive. My father had collapsed into a lotus position on the grass, muttering feverish prayers. He was a ruthless venture capitalist, but right now, he was bargaining with whatever god was listening. At loop ninety, the sky began to bleed a pale morning gray. Brooks was kneeling on the floor beside the long, dark-red smear Beverly had dragged across the carpet, rocking back and forth like a mental patient. My parents were huddled together, drenched in cold sweat, utterly mute. At loop one hundred, the ambulance—which had been stalled by the System’s interference—finally wailed up the driveway. The paramedics had to literally dig Beverly’s pulverized, barely-breathing body out of the crater she had formed in the earth. “Where is the family?! We need a guardian to ride with us!!” the EMT yelled over the flashing lights. Brooks crawled toward the door. “Me! Me!!! I’m coming with her!!!” Only then did I take my time walking down from the second floor. I arranged my features into a mask of identical, traumatized shock, rushing over to help my parents up. “Mom! Dad! Get up… Beverly’s condition, it was so… unnatural! Are you really going to let Brooks go to the hospital alone with her?!” The spell broke. An adopted daughter was just a daughter, but their son? Their heir? He was their lifeline. The two old hypocrites scrambled to their feet, their legs shaking violently. “We… we have to go. We have to follow them.” Yes, go, I thought. The best acts of the play were yet to come. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. 4. Beverly was the protagonist of the original plot, and it showed. She actually survived. Plot armor is a hell of a drug; she was remarkably hard to kill. Even so, she was a symphony of fractured bones and severe contusions. She wouldn’t be walking for at least three to five months. “It hurts!!!! What happened?!!! Why can’t I move?!” “My face… my face is burning!!! Make it stop!!!” “Mom!! Dad!! Brooks!! Why aren’t you helping me?!!!” Beverly had never experienced true pain in her life. With absolutely no memory of her glitching marathon, she woke up screaming, thrashing against her restraints, sobbing hysterically. The family of three desperately wanted to rush to her bedside to comfort her, but they physically couldn’t. The psychological trauma of the “blood-soaked spider” was too fresh. Especially for Brooks. When he had climbed into the back of the ambulance, he had leaned in close, desperately crying her name. In response, Beverly had turned a mangled, blood-drenched face toward him, her eyes rolled back so far only the bloodshot whites showed. He had nearly gone into cardiac arrest on the spot. So, it was just me. I was the only one who withstood the pressure. I stepped up to the hospital bed and gently patted the thick gauze wrapped around Beverly’s shoulder. “Beverly, it’s okay. You have to be strong. If you can’t handle this, how are you going to survive the rest of it?” I suddenly understood the psychology behind killers returning to the scene of the crime. Looking at Beverly right now, she felt like my own personal masterpiece. The uglier she looked, the more an undeniable fondness bloomed in my chest. She couldn’t even maintain her delicate, innocent facade anymore. She bared her teeth and shrieked at me: “Helen?! Why the hell are you in here?!! It was you, wasn’t it?!! You did this to me!!!” “Mom! Dad!!! It was Helen!! She pushed me!! Punish her!! Do it now!!!” I offered a serene, almost saintly smile, my voice perfectly level. “Beverly, I understand why you’re blaming me… It’s my fault as your sister. I should have caught you. Mom and Dad tried so hard to stop you from jumping, but…” I caught the fleeting look of retroactive terror on my parents’ faces. Their hands subconsciously drifted to their own bandaged, scraped skin. The physical pain only amplified their deep-seated, biological fear of the girl in the bed. Beverly, of course, missed all of this subtext. All she heard was that her parents hadn’t caught her. Panicked over the prospect of being permanently disfigured, she lost her mind entirely, spitting out words without thinking: “Why didn’t you stop me?! If you had just stopped me, I wouldn’t look like this!!” It was the exact sentence I was waiting for. System. Let her say it a hundred times. 5. “We tried to stop you! But we couldn’t!!” My father’s face was twisted in distress as he tried to defend himself. “You were too strong!” My mother nodded frantically. “Yes, yes! You dragged me right across the ground…” She pulled back her designer sleeve to show Beverly the massive, angry road rash on her forearm. “Look. My skin was torn right off.” Under normal circumstances, Beverly would have instantly dissolved into tears, apologizing profusely and delicately blowing on her mother’s wound to soothe her. But right now, her eyes remained bulged, and she barked out the exact same accusation, her tone frantic and venomous: “Why didn’t you stop me?! If you had just stopped me, I wouldn’t look like this!!” My parents froze. They stared at her, deeply unsettled. “Beverly…?” my mother whispered, her voice trembling. Beverly kept going. “Why didn’t you stop me?! If you had just stopped me, I wouldn’t look like this!!” My father’s guilt instantly calcified into anger. “How dare you speak to us like that?! I just told you, we couldn’t hold you down! If you’re going to put this on us, I’m going to lose my patience very quickly!” … “Why didn’t you stop me?! If you had just stopped me, I wouldn’t look like this!!” “Excuse me? What is wrong with you? Are you deaf?!” … “Why didn’t you stop me?! If you had just stopped me, I wouldn’t look like this!!” “Say that one more time!” … “Why didn’t you stop me?! If you had just stopped me, I wouldn’t look like this!!” “Shut up!!!!” My father absolutely lost it. He was panting heavily, jabbing a finger toward the bed. “Do you have zero respect left?!!! Keep acting like this, and you can sit in this room by yourself! We’re done visiting you!!” His eyes were bloodshot with rage. But Beverly was completely deaf to the world. She just kept repeating the sentence. Over and over. The volume rising, the pitch turning into a grating, shrill siren. My mother clutched her chest, unable to take the sensory overload, and burst into tears again. “Beverly, how can you blame me?! Don’t you think I wanted to save you?! We couldn’t do anything, why can’t you understand that!” Only Brooks was still running defense. “Mom, Dad, she’s just in agony. The trauma is too much for a young girl. She’s just delirious from the pain, please, the most important thing is her recovery. Don’t be angry with her!” I immediately chimed in to help. “Yes, exactly… And… why does she keep repeating the exact same phrase? Do you think… when she hit her head…” I delicately tapped my temple with one finger. “Helen! What the hell is that supposed to mean?! Are you calling her brain-damaged?!” Brooks spat, instantly reverting to his default setting. “Stop trying to tear this family apart! We don’t even know why she jumped in the first place. You bully her every single day, maybe you drove her to it!” Brooks truly was a flawless NPC. No matter what happened to Beverly, his programming automatically pinned the blame on me. I didn’t even dignify him with a look. I just turned my gaze to my parents. “Mom, Dad, let’s just call the doctor in. It couldn’t hurt for them to check on her head.” The suggestion landed perfectly. My parents exchanged a long, heavy look, their eyes darting back to the bed, evaluating Beverly with a new, deeply cynical calculation. After all, a wealthy heiress with a few broken bones could be hidden away to heal. But an heiress whose brain was broken? That was a massive liability.

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