Category: English

My master is the immortal final boss of the Eldritch Realm. And I am just the flower-selling NPC at his manor gate. Until one day, both the players and I saw the floating stream chats. [Want to kill the final boss? It’s simple. Just attack that flower girl NPC.] [Who would’ve thought an eldritch boss could be so innocent? He washes off his blood, dresses up cleanly, buys flowers, and blushes just talking to her.] [Lol, but the flower girl has severe face blindness. She hasn’t recognized him once.] 01 Late at night, I was tapping away on my calculator. This month, I had been caught in the crossfire of players challenging the final boss a total of five times. Three times my stand was flipped, and twice my flowers were trampled. Yet, every single morning, my little stall would miraculously restore itself, with fresh flowers arranged neatly as if nothing had ever happened. Meanwhile, the taco stand next to me, which suffered the same collateral damage, remained a total disaster. The taco vendor looked at me with deep envy. “Daisy, are you sure you didn’t hire some anomaly to clean up for you?” he asked. “You’re so pretty and sweet, maybe some secret admirer skeleton is quietly doing it?” I shook my head, offering a shy smile. “No way.” I have severe face blindness. During my worst years, I couldn’t even recognize my own mother, once crying and begging to go with an anomaly human-trafficker. The trafficker, having never seen a kid like me, was so terrified she jumped into her van and sped away. Because I was decent-looking, I received plenty of love letters from anomalies growing up, but since I could never tell who was who, I never replied. Consequently, I didn’t have close friends. My only real bestie was a skeleton spirit, but she felt walking around as bare bones was too exposing and recently underwent a full-body skin-graft surgery. Now, I couldn’t even recognize my best friend. But when God closes a door, He opens a window. I was incredibly lucky. Six months ago, I managed to score a vacant, unclaimed stall right outside the highly coveted Ashenvale Manor, the residence of the ultimate boss, and began selling flowers to make a living. The neighboring vendors affectionately called me “Daisy.” I thought my days would pass quietly like this. Until recently. Someone among the players placed a massive bounty on the boss’s head. Countless reckless players began swarming the place. 02 Late at night, I finished calculating my accounts for the month and counted the remaining stock. Just as I was about to pull down the metal shutter to go home, a hand firmly caught it. “Wait.” The shutter slowly rose, revealing a man in a well-tailored trench coat with a pale, strikingly handsome face. “Can I still order flowers?” the man asked, his voice gentle. “I want to buy a bouquet for the girl I like.” I was slightly dazed by his looks. “Of course. What kind of flowers would you like? Eyeball lilies? Finger blossoms? Our heart-shaped roses are selling well lately, though they’re pricier since player drops have been low.” “What about you?” Under the warm yellow light, the tips of the man’s ears turned a deep crimson. “What kind of flowers do you like?” Compared to the eyeballs and hearts popular in our world, I preferred the normal seeds brought over by the players. I walked into the back room and brought out a bundle of ignored yellow roses. “I like yellow roses.” The man looked thoughtful. “Yellow roses it is then. I think she’ll like them too.” Before leaving, holding the large bouquet, he asked, “Can I come back tomorrow to order more?” No one turns down easy money. I nodded. “Of course.” As he turned to leave, I noticed a trail of bloody footprints behind him, as if he had been gravely injured. No wonder he looked so pale. Even after being hurt like that, he didn’t forget to buy flowers for the girl he liked. I didn’t think much of the encounter. The next morning, I was still the first to open my stall. A crowd of players was loitering around the manor gates. I recognized the emblem on their clothes instantly, a black scythe. These people were here to kill the boss again. 03 “Hey shopkeeper, how’s business lately?” A few players approached my stall. The one bringing up the rear looked thoroughly bored, lazily flicking a lighter open and closed. Before I could answer, another player sneered, “Why are you asking a brainless NPC? Didn’t you check the guild archives? She’s just a D-rank flower girl with unknown attack power. She’s got a pretty face, but she’s clearly nothing special.” The player who asked scratched his head. “I wasn’t the one asking, it was him…” Snap. The bored player closed his lighter. The rest of the group immediately fell silent. He stepped forward, stopping right in front of my stand. “I’m Jude,” he said. “I wanted to ask if there’s been any unusual activity around the manor lately?” So this was Jude. Just as players kept files on us, anomalies had a leaderboard for players. Jude was a rising star who had climbed to the very top of the danger rankings at an alarming speed. I lowered my head, adjusting an eyeball lily. “No.” Actually, there was. Last night, our local forums had exploded with rumors that the boss had been ambushed, gravely injured, and was now unconscious. But as an anomaly, I wasn’t about to tell the truth to players. Before Jude could speak, the others grew impatient. “No way! Jude, don’t listen to her!” “I saw it with my own eyes. The Guild Master risked his life to corner the boss. We were so close, but the bastard managed to escape.” “Now that our Guild Master is wounded, the boss must be hiding in the manor to heal. Jude, you’re the only one who can…” “Are you buying flowers?” I interrupted, picking up the bouquet of eyeball lilies. “If not, please step aside.” I was clearly showing them the door. To my surprise, Jude pulled out a thick stack of local currency. “I’ll buy them.” “Since I bought your flowers, can you tell me a bit more about what you’ve seen these past few days?” “Sure.” I took the money without hesitation. Jude hadn’t specified that I couldn’t lie. So, I started talking about my ruined stall and ended with the yellow roses I sold yesterday, glossing over every important detail. Jude remained calm, but the players behind him were losing their patience. Just as one of them was about to cut me off, lines of glowing text suddenly floated in the air above us. [This is agonizing to watch. Want to kill the final boss? It’s simple. Just attack that flower girl NPC.] [They gave the boss such high defense and attack stats, so he had to have a weakness. Who would have guessed the boss’s weakness is the flower girl at the gate?] [Who would’ve thought an eldritch boss could be so innocent? He washes off his blood, dresses up cleanly, buys flowers, and blushes just talking to her.] [Not going to name names, but someone was sniffing those yellow roses like a lovesick fool last night.] [Too bad the flower girl is face-blind. She hasn’t recognized him once.] … I slowly raised my head. Suddenly, the eyes of every player in the square locked onto me. [System Notification: You have reached the end of the free preview. Please unlock the next chapter to reveal Daisy’s fate and the dark secrets of Ashenvale Manor.] My back was instantly drenched in a cold sweat. My skin prickled with danger, but I didn’t dare take a single step back. Regardless of whatever nonsense these floating texts were spouting, if the players believed it, the more aggressive ones would attack me immediately to force the boss out. Under the circumstances, I decided to play dumb. I pretended I couldn’t see the text. “Is there anything else you want to ask? Blocking my stall affects my business,” I said, pushing the eyeball lilies toward Jude. The next second, the air whistled as a dagger flew straight toward the space between my eyes. The eyeball lilies were knocked out of my hand, scattering across the ground. It was too fast. At this distance, I couldn’t dodge. But at the critical moment, the dagger was deflected. It grazed my ear, slicing off a lock of my hair. The strand twirled in the air before drifting slowly to the ground. “Jude, are you insane?!” A player wearing glasses held his bruised wrist, his eyes wide with fury. “Didn’t you see that? Attacking this NPC will draw the boss out!” “He’s heavily injured right now. This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance! If we kill him, this nightmare realm will collapse, and you…” Jude’s expression was freezing. “This is the anomaly world. Are you sure you want to trust random floating text?” “Besides.” Jude’s eyes swept over the crowd of anomalies gathering around us, drawn by the commotion. “If the boss actually shows up now, do you think any of us are walking out of here alive?” The players looked at one another, and no one dared to speak. “My apologies. I won’t be taking the flowers,” Jude said, leaving double the payment on the counter. He turned and walked away, but some of the players still weren’t ready to let it go. The guy with the glasses was breathing heavily, glaring at me with raw resentment. A kind-hearted player pulled his arm. “Let’s go. Jude already left.” I gathered the scattered eyeball lilies from the ground. With a little dusting, they could still be sold. One batch of flowers, three payments. With that happy thought, I offered the glasses-wearing player a friendly smile. He froze, his eyes filling with sudden terror, and his entire body began to shake. Without waiting for his companion to urge him again, he spun around and bolted, running as if a demon were snapping at his heels. Huh? I looked behind me. There was no one there. Was my face really that terrifying? 04 Once the players left, the curious anomalies dispersed. Over the years, anomalies and players had maintained a tense but mostly peaceful coexistence outside of active trials. The taco vendor next door kindly helped me set up the potted plant the players had knocked over. “Those players are losing their minds,” he muttered. “Broad daylight, and they just start attacking you?” As he spoke, lines of text kept floating past, but the vendor didn’t seem to notice. It seemed only the players and I could see them. Being special is rarely a good thing. I had long outgrown the age of thinking I was the chosen protagonist of some grand story. I just wanted to run my shop peacefully, save up a fortune, and retire early. [Jude’s strategic retreat is brilliant. He pretends to argue and leave, but he’s actually watching from the shadows.] [If the boss comes to buy flowers tonight, he’s walking straight into a trap.] [What if the boss doesn’t show up?] [Trust me, that lovesick fool would crawl here like a caterpillar even if he lost all his limbs.] … I looked back at the yellow roses in my storage. Whether the rumors of his crush were true or not, the yellow roses were a hard sell, and I was close to losing money on them. So, I decided to pitch yellow roses to every anomaly who stopped by. Which one of them was the boss anyway? The rest of the day passed without incident. Night fell, and a light drizzle began to patter against the pavement. I organized my stock and cleaned up, preparing to head home early. The moment I reached for the light switch, the text in the air suddenly spiked in volume. I instinctively looked outside. “Can I still order flowers?” A man stood under an umbrella, tilting his head slightly to look at me. He really was remarkably handsome. “Of course! I have a special offer on eyeball lilies today. They’re visually stunning and edible, our best seller. Want to take a look?” He paused, his ears turning slightly red. “No, thank you.” “I would like a bouquet of yellow roses, please. Do you have any left?” The text was scrolling at lightning speed now. [Is the boss really injured? He looks completely fine.] [What if it’s bait? Maybe he leaked the injury rumor just to wipe out the top players in one go.] [Should we test him?] [If he isn’t hurt, anyone who tries to test him will be wiped out instantly.] … The sound of rustling leaves came from the trees nearby. Several players dropped down from the branches. Jude looked toward the flower shop with a complicated expression. “Jude, should we…” “Fall back for now.” I brought out a bundle of yellow roses from the back. As I arranged them, I couldn’t help but think how handsome this customer was. Wait, what did he look like again? I quietly sneaked another glance at him. Seeing this, the boss stood a little straighter. [If I counted correctly, that’s the seventeenth time she’s sneaked a peek at him. She gets starstruck every time, then immediately forgets his face.] [Look at him, his face is completely red. He’ll probably claim it’s just warm out.] [He’s probably already picked out names for their future children.] … I wrapped the roses and handed them over. “The girl I like is very fond of yellow roses,” he said, looking into my eyes. “I bought a bouquet yesterday too. Do you remember?” I shook my head. He seemed slightly disappointed, his eyelids drooping, casting long shadows with his lashes. “Silas. That is my name. Next time, will you remember it?” The customer is always right. I agreed. “I will.” As the strongest entity in this realm, I supposed I should technically call Silas my master. Before he left, I decided to offer a small warning. “Um, please be careful lately.” Silas’s eyes lit up instantly. “I will.” Once the transaction was over, I closed the shutter and caught the last train home. Back at the flower shop, the dark mist slowly coalesced into a human figure. Silas stood in the shadows, staring in the direction my train had gone. He pressed a hand to his chest, a trickle of dark blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. Hearing a faint rustle in the dark, he raised his hand, and countless black tentacles erupted from his shadow. The player who had been tailing him from the trees was dragged out. Before he could even scream, his neck was snapped.

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My father’s first love and my mother’s boy toy showed up at our door looking for a fight. At first, I figured it had nothing to do with me. Until Dad’s first love narrowed her eyes and pointed straight at me. “Why does she get to spend your money studying overseas? Your money is mine. That woman’s daughter has no right to touch it.” Then Mom’s boy toy actually whined at her. “Babe, we’ll have kids of our own someday. The daughter you had with that old man doesn’t deserve your money.” I laughed from pure disbelief. I was the heir my grandfather had trained himself. And these two thought they could come after what was mine? 01 Sometimes, no matter how capable you are, you still have to do things you don’t want to do. Like now. On a bright, lazy afternoon I could have spent doing absolutely anything else, I was sitting here drinking tea with a room full of idiots. The tea was just the right temperature. I took a slow sip. Grandpa was getting old. His health had been failing these past few years, and lately all he wanted was to see the family at least pretending to get along. For that one small wish of his, I had agreed to live with my parents for a while before leaving the country. A little show of fatherly kindness and filial devotion. Something to put an old man’s heart at ease. I just hadn’t expected them to be this stupid. Two leeches raising two more leeches, and now they wanted to challenge me. I didn’t even lift my eyes. “Marissa, at your age, the whole delicate little mistress act is a bad look.” Her face stiffened. “And besides, Grandpa kicked my dad out of the company’s core management ten years ago. What exactly are you showing off for?” My father, Victor Whitmore, and his first love, Marissa Vale, both went pale. My mother was just about to laugh at them when my next sentence wiped the smirk right off her face. “And Mom, this little boyfriend of yours is really not it. He looks like boiled chicken. Pale, soft, one stiff breeze away from passing out. Kidney deficiency vibes, honestly.” I tilted my head. “And kids? Does he not know you’ve already gone through menopause?” “You brat!” My father straightened up in front of the woman he loved, suddenly brave. “We are your elders! Is that how you speak to your elders?” “Exactly! Menopause? What menopause? You’re making things up!” My mother, Lauren, snapped too. “Briar, we finally sit down together for tea, and you have to make it this ugly?” I picked up a napkin and dabbed at the corner of my mouth. Honestly, after living with Grandpa at the old estate all these years, I’d almost forgotten what kind of people they were. My parents had been a classic business-marriage disaster. After I was born, they each went off to play their own games. Their concern for me was basically nonexistent. When I was little and living in this villa, they spent all day partying outside and didn’t come home for more than a year. I was abused by the live-in nanny until I was nearly starved to death. If Grandpa hadn’t returned early from a project in Europe, I would have died in this house. After that, Grandpa was furious. He froze my father’s trust for three years, kicked him out of the company, and took me back to the old estate to raise me himself. Without my parents’ care, I finally had a peaceful childhood. After college, I planned to study abroad and expand our overseas markets along the way. But Grandpa was getting older. He hoped my parents and I could repair things, so he asked me to live with them for a while before I left. A chance to reconnect, he said. Now it seemed there was no need. Bringing their lovers home to provoke me. What was this supposed to be, a lesson in parental authority? Only idiots like my parents could come up with something this ridiculous. I looked at them and smiled. The next second, I flipped the table. After what happened with the nanny, I had learned kickboxing for self-defense. Marissa reacted fast and dodged. Mom’s boy toy shielded her, so she was fine too. Dad wasn’t so lucky. Scalding tea splashed all over him. He opened his mouth to curse, but I cut him off with one cold look. “Mom. Dad. You don’t have the ability to act like elders, so don’t try to pull rank with me.” I dusted off my clothes. “What, did age take your brains with it?” I had no interest in wasting more breath on them. “Briar! I’m your father!” Dad finally lost it. “Is this how you talk to your own father?” Mom couldn’t hold back either. “Briar! I carried you for ten months!” “Do you know I nearly died on the operating table giving birth to you? And this is how you treat your mother?” They usually lived their own separate messy lives, but when it came to dealing with me, they were impressively in sync. “I know all that,” I said, smiling as I pulled a stack of documents from my bag. “That’s why I brought you gifts today.” “Dad, did you know Marissa has a son? Motherly love really is powerful. For her own kid, she can even tolerate someone as old and ugly as you.” “And Mom, your puppy here has been using your money to date more than a dozen girls at school. He’s all over the campus gossip page. You should take a look.” The scene instantly turned brutal. Screams, shrieks, accusations, all tangled together. I blinked, picked up my bag, and walked out. Honestly. They couldn’t even recognize the people sleeping beside them, and they wanted to fight me? 02 After handling some work that evening, I went back to the old estate to see Grandpa. The moment I stepped through the door, the butler came forward. “Mr. and Mrs. Whitmore arrived this afternoon. They’ve been keeping the old gentleman company.” I raised an eyebrow, not surprised. When I entered the living room, sure enough, the three of them were on the sofa. Victor was bent forward, carefully offering Grandpa a cup of freshly brewed pu-erh tea. Lauren sat on the other side, gently massaging Grandpa’s shoulders. Grandpa leaned back against the sofa, smiling. The moment he saw me, he lifted a hand and beckoned, his voice growing stronger. “Briar’s back? Come here, sweetheart.” The harmonious atmosphere in the room froze instantly. Dad’s hand paused in midair, the smile on his face almost cracking. Mom’s hands stopped moving too. The corners of her mouth visibly dropped. Grandpa acted as if he didn’t see their expressions. He waved a hand. “All right. You’ve both kept me company all afternoon. Go home. I have some things to discuss with my granddaughter alone.” “Dad, we…” Mom tried to speak, but Grandpa swept one glance over her, and she shut up immediately. Dad didn’t dare defy him. He could only stand up through gritted teeth. As he passed me, he shot me a vicious glare. Mom followed behind him and rolled her eyes when she walked past me. Once they were gone, the living room fell quiet. “Come. Let’s go to the study. Play a game of chess with me.” Grandpa braced himself on the armrest and slowly stood. I hurried forward to support his arm. His body had gotten worse year after year. The man who once carried me running through the courtyard now had to catch his breath after only a few steps. Even when he placed a chess piece on the board, his hand trembled faintly beyond his control. We hadn’t walked far when Grandpa spoke first, his voice calm. “I heard about what happened at the house today.” “Your parents have always been foolish. You know that.” My hand paused around the chess piece. I said nothing. “These years, you’ve done very well. You learned the company from me. You’re much stronger than either of them.” “In the blink of an eye, that tiny girl grew up.” His voice thickened. “I still remember when you were born. Such a small little thing. I named you Briar. People said a girl couldn’t carry a name that strong.” “I wasn’t happy about that at all.” He tapped the chessboard. “My granddaughter can carry any name in the world.” He looked at me. “And you proved it. You handle the company cleanly, decisively. I knew it. My granddaughter was born to stand above the crowd.” Tears suddenly rolled down his face. “But I still worry about you. A sharp mind can cut the person who carries it. You understood too much too early. You’re sensitive, and those parents of yours are unreliable.” “When I’m gone, what will you do alone?” “Grandpa,” I said, sniffling, “I’m not alone. I still have you with me. I’ll be fine.” Grandpa shook his head and patted the back of my hand. “Put studying abroad on hold for now.” His eyes were tired. “I’ve already given instructions. Starting tomorrow, you will act in my place as chair of the board.” He paused. “But you must promise me one thing. No matter what foolish thing your father does in the future…” “Make sure he never lacks food or shelter.” 03 I became so busy at the company that I barely had time to breathe. Everyone was waiting to laugh at me, waiting to see how a young woman like me could possibly sit firmly in the chairmanship. The first person to come looking for me was Dad. He didn’t even get to see my face before security escorted him out of the building. After all, he wasn’t even a shareholder anymore. Just a spoiled trust-fund failure living off family money. But I hadn’t expected Grant Blackwell to come back to the country. He was the grandson of my grandfather’s closest friend. Born into a military family, broad shoulders, narrow waist, handsome features. Exactly the kind of man most girls would find attractive. My parents had arranged the engagement themselves. Their plan was simple. They hoped I would fall head over heels for that pretty face, lose myself in romance, become as brainless as them, and then let them coax the Whitmore shares right out of my hands. Unfortunately for them, they miscalculated. Since I started learning company business from Grandpa at fifteen, I had seen plenty of men with beautiful faces and rotten intentions underneath. Over the years, I had always been lukewarm toward Grant. He, too, only came looking for me when he remembered I existed. “Briar.” Grant walked up to my desk, his voice carrying just the right amount of concern. “I heard everything. Your grandfather handed the whole group over to you.” “You’re a young woman, suddenly taking on a business this big. The pressure must be enormous. How can your body hold up like this?” He leaned forward slightly, his tone growing gentler. “I’ve already taken a leave from school. I’m back for good this time.” “Briar, you don’t have to carry this alone. I’ll help you.” “I studied financial management overseas. And we’re engaged. It’s only right that I help you manage the company.” Listening to him, I nearly laughed out loud. For a moment, I couldn’t decide whether Grant had no brain, or whether he thought I didn’t. Men were born with this absurd confidence. They always believed that if they were handsome enough and said a few pretty words, women would fall madly in love and hand over everything they owned. I raised an eyebrow, just about to respond, when a powerful male voice rang from the doorway. “Who said my niece can’t handle it?” I looked up and saw my uncle, Raymond Caldwell, standing at the door. This uncle of mine was much smarter than my love-obsessed mother. At least he never directly provoked me the way my parents did. “Where did this pretty boy come from?” Raymond strode over to Grant. “Trying to live off a woman and still making it sound noble?” “My niece needs your help? She grew up learning from the old man himself. Since when does an outsider get to point fingers here?” Grant had thick skin. Even being mocked in public didn’t anger him. He smiled. “I’m Briar’s fiancé.” “It’s perfectly natural for me to share her burden.” “Fiancé?” Raymond rolled his eyes. “And I’m her actual uncle.” Then he turned to me, his face full of smiles. “Briar, let your uncle make the call today. Dump this guy.” “I’ll introduce you to a whole stack of better men. Every single one stronger than this freeloader.” I couldn’t help laughing, though I knew exactly what was at stake. The Blackwell family’s military connections were crucial to the overseas security project I planned to push forward. So on the surface, at least, I couldn’t tear this engagement apart yet. I stood and looked at Grant apologetically. “Grant, I’m sorry. My uncle has always been blunt. He doesn’t mean any harm. Don’t take it personally.” “You should go first. I’ll come find you later.” Grant glanced sideways at Raymond, then looked back at me with a smile. “Briar, I’ll wait for you tonight at the InterContinental for dinner.” Then he left. Only Raymond and I remained in the office. His eyes shifted, and he rubbed his hands together with a smile. “Briar, I heard… you’re chair of the Whitmore Group now?” I understood immediately. So this was what he had come for. I pulled out a chair, sat down, poured him tea, and smiled. “Uncle Ray, we’re family. No need to circle around.” “If you have something to say, just say it.” “My niece really is straightforward!” His eyes lit up, and he immediately followed the opening. “Here’s the thing. Your uncle has a project recently. Guaranteed profit, no loss. It just needs a little startup capital.” “You’re chair now. Could you invest a little in your uncle’s project? Not much. Just a hundred million.” My smile didn’t change. I agreed instantly. “Of course, Uncle.” “As your niece, I have to support your career.” “Have your assistant send over the project materials later. I’ll ask finance to start the process.” Raymond hadn’t expected me to agree so quickly. His eyes brightened. Then he added, “Also, Briar, your cousin just graduated from college this year. Could you let him come to your company and help you out? Let him learn from you.” My uncle and aunt only had one daughter, Iris, who was studying abroad. The “cousin” he meant, Liam, was his illegitimate son. I had heard Mom mention him a few times. Raymond treasured that secret son of his. But my aunt had a fierce temper and tolerated no betrayal. As luck would have it, Raymond had been able to sit comfortably as chairman of the Caldwell family business all these years partly because my mother loved helping her younger brother, but mostly because of his wife. So he didn’t dare let her know the illegitimate son existed. I kept smiling and nodded. “No problem. Once Liam graduates, have him report to HR. I’ll have a vice president mentor him personally.” Raymond was overjoyed and left happily. The office finally quieted down. The smile slowly faded from my face. If there had only been one dog, I might have had a problem. But now there were two. All I had to do was wait for the show. 04 Grandpa’s death came suddenly. That day, I was out of town negotiating a project when I received the butler’s call. I rushed back overnight. Dad had already arranged the funeral. The funeral home was cold. Low music drifted through the air. In the center of the memorial hall hung Grandpa’s black-and-white portrait. Before the coffin, Dad knelt on a cushion, sobbing like his heart had been ripped out. Anyone who didn’t know better would have thought he was the most devoted son in the world. Beside him, a woman held a swaddled baby and gently soothed it. I recognized her vaguely. One of Dad’s mistresses. “Dad! Open your eyes and look!” Dad cried, pounding the coffin heavily. His voice was hoarse. “You finally have a grandson! I gave you a grandson!” “Why couldn’t you wait to see him? Why did you leave?” I stood there as my stomach churned. Just then, my mother stormed in. The moment her eyes landed on the baby in the woman’s arms, she exploded like a firecracker and lunged forward to snatch it. “Victor Whitmore, you filthy stud! You dare bring your bastard child to the old man’s funeral? I’ll smash this little curse to death today!” The woman screamed and dodged back. Dad immediately stood and shielded her. The two of them began fighting in an instant. A proper memorial hall became a circus within seconds. I only stood quietly and looked at Grandpa, as if all the noise had nothing to do with me. My nose suddenly stung. Tears gathered in my eyes, but I held them back with everything I had. Only when the lawyer entered the hall did the chaos finally quiet down. He carried a document envelope in his hand. Grandpa’s will. The lawyer cleared his throat, bowed deeply to Grandpa’s portrait, then opened the will and read it word by word. Most of the real estate would be split equally among my parents and me. Grandpa’s lifetime collection of paintings, antiques, cars, and scattered investment and trust income all went to me. And then came the most important part. The shares of the Whitmore Group. The forty percent of shares Grandpa held during his life would be divided equally between me and my father, Victor Whitmore. Each of us would inherit twenty percent. I stood frozen as half the blood in my body seemed to turn cold. I already held the ten percent Grandpa had transferred to me years earlier. With this inherited twenty percent, I had thirty percent total. Enough to stand firmly in the company. Not enough to fully control the Whitmore Group. And Dad, a useless playboy Grandpa had kicked out of core management ten years ago, a man who wasn’t even a shareholder yesterday, had gained twenty percent overnight. That meant he now had the capital to fight me head-on. I frowned. I knew Grandpa had arranged this out of fatherly love. But he had overestimated my father. Grandpa could give him shares. Dad could not hold on to them. Dad froze for a few seconds, then burst into irrepressible laughter. “I knew it! Dad still cared about me, his son!” He glanced at me smugly. “So what if the old man trained you as heir? I’m not only your father. I’m his only son.” As he spoke, he touched the baby’s cheek. “Briar, you’d better be careful. A girl running a company? That kind of glory never lasts.” I lowered my eyes, expressionless. “Dad, whether my glory lasts or not, we’ll see.” “But it’s true that you’re a poor judge of people. Marissa fooled you for so long. This time, try not to get fooled again.” “I already threw that woman out!” Dad snarled, clearly stabbed in a sore spot. “Just wait until your brother and I replace you.” With that, he wrapped an arm around the woman, held the newborn baby, and walked out of the memorial hall without looking back. Mom was so angry her face turned green. Pointing at his back, she cursed and chased after him in her heels, shouting that she was going to settle this properly. The memorial hall, noisy moments ago, emptied in an instant. Only I remained. Me, and Grandpa lying in the coffin. I stood there for a very long time. So long my legs went numb and lost all feeling. Only then did I brace myself against the cold funeral home wall and move outside one step at a time. From the memorial hall to the parking lot was only a few hundred yards. Holding the wall, I walked for half an hour. That was enough time to think through many things. I suddenly remembered years ago, when Grandpa first brought me back to the old estate. He had stroked my head and said, “Briar, if no one helps you walk, then lean on the wall and walk by yourself. Go slowly. You’ll get out eventually.” I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I covered my face and cried without a sound.

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I was the campus golden boy’s biggest simp. I would practically grovel at his feet, sending desperate late-night texts just to get his attention. [Hey, you still awake?] On the other end: [Yeah.] Even that single, freezing reply was enough to make my heart skip a beat. But a second later, a bizarre status notification popped up at the top of the chat window: The user mocked you and shared your pathetic chat history with the entire dorm. I froze. Dumbfounded, I tapped on the profile of his roommate, the terrifying campus bad boy who supposedly despised me and was notoriously homophobic. The user’s mouth curved up by exactly three pixels. Baby texted me. Smells so good. The user is re-reading your message and unzipping his pants. I went completely numb. What on earth was going on? 01 The chat window was acting incredibly weird. If I didn’t figure out the truth tonight, there was no way I would sleep. When I walked into Asher’s dorm room, he was holding his phone out, showing it to the guys. The second his eyes landed on me, his expression turned stiff. My chest tightened. Could those status prompts actually be real? I took a step closer, trying to sneak a peek at his screen. “Hey, Asher. What are you guys looking at?” Asher’s thumb quickly swiped, and he held up a gaming screenshot. His roommate chimed in. “Man, you should have seen it. Asher just pulled off a twelve-kill streak. Absolutely insane!” I let out a quiet breath. Of course. How could I even believe those weird pop-ups? I placed the carton of milk I had bought for him on his desk. “Remember to drink this, Asher. I will save you a seat for lectures tomorrow morning.” Asher gave a careless shrug of agreement. Just as I turned to leave, the bathroom door swung open. Ryder stepped out in a hurry, completely shirtless. I nearly crashed straight into his chest. He leaned against the doorframe, looking down at me. Droplets of water glistened on his pale, defined abs, slowly tracing the lines down. Thinking back to the filthy prompts on his chat status, my ears began to burn. “Ryder,” I mumbled. “What?” he asked. As he spoke, his gaze flicked to the desk. Everyone in the room had a carton of milk on their desk. But Asher had two, while everyone else only had one. I could not exactly ask Ryder about the crude messages on my phone screen. Losing his patience, Ryder brushed past me, his shoulder hitting mine. “If you don’t have anything else, get out.” So hostile. On my walk back to my dorm, I kept my eyes glued to the screen, where the status updates were still rolling. Asher: The user is enjoying a massive ego boost. Ryder: Smells so sweet. What laundry detergent does baby use? So frustrating. I am going to lose my mind. What was this absolute nonsense? Annoyed, I reported the app for a system glitch. 02 I woke up early just to secure a prime spot for Asher in the lecture hall. I waited and waited until he finally walked through the door. He looked tired from pulling an all-nighter, his hair slightly messy, but he still looked effortlessly handsome. Excited, I waved my hand. “Asher! Over here!” Immediately, heads turned. People started whispering. I tried to ignore them, but Asher instantly looked uncomfortable. “Hey, Asher! Sit over here!” a girl called out from a few rows down. Asher hesitated for a fraction of a second before walking past me to sit right next to her. My face burned with embarrassment. I should not have yelled his name in front of everyone. The whole campus knew I was gay. But Asher had not accepted me yet. He hated being associated with me too closely in public. As I sat there wallowing in regret, someone suddenly loomed over my desk. “Is this seat taken?” Ryder had walked in right behind Asher, witnessing the entire painful scene. I shook my head, and Ryder slid into the seat next to me. He was wearing a black hoodie, his hands pale and clean. He reached into the desk compartment and pulled out the breakfast sandwich I had bought for Asher. “Can I eat this?” Well, Asher was not going to eat it anyway. I nodded quietly. Without another word, Ryder tore open the wrapper. I was still sulking, staring blankly at the blackboard. Beneath the desk, Ryder gave my sleeve a gentle tug. “Still upset?” “No.” Ryder let out a low chuckle. “I am not eating your food for free. I will Venmo you.” I wanted to refuse. We were not close enough for me to buy him breakfast, and I had only added his number to keep tabs on Asher’s whereabouts. But I did not stop him. The moment class ended, Ryder’s long legs carried him out of the room ahead of me. My phone buzzed. Ryder sent you $52.00. I hated rich people. A pastry and a carton of milk were nowhere near worth fifty-two bucks. Annoyed but unable to resist free money, I accepted the transfer and glanced at his status. The user’s mood is skyrocketing. 03 Asher rarely initiated conversations. So when he texted me asking if I wanted to play basketball with him, I practically flew to the courts. But when I arrived, my heart sank. It was not just Asher. He had only invited me because they were short a player to make even numbers. Still, when they split into teams, I immediately joined Asher’s side. Ryder was there too, playing for the opposing team. He seemed to be in a terrible mood today. Every time I brushed past him during a play, his brow was furrowed in a tight, dark line. 04 During halftime, I volunteered to grab drinks. I set a heavy plastic bag of cold bottles on the grass, opened one, and handed it directly to Asher. The other guys on the court, who had warmed up to me after a game, started teasing. “Damn, Toby, you really know how to take care of a guy. Asher, man, just give in and date him already.” “Yeah! Thanks for the drinks, sweet cheeks!” I smiled at Asher, and he smiled back as he took the bottle. Everyone scrambled to grab a drink, leaving Ryder standing at the very back. I picked up the last bottle and held it out to him. “Here.” Ryder glared at the bottle, scowling, then turned on his heel to buy his own from the vending machine. I had heard he had a nasty temper. Brushing it off, I unscrewed my own drink and took a sip. When I unlocked my phone to check my messages, I saw the chat status had updated again. Asher: Ego fully stroked. Feeling a massive rush of secret satisfaction. Meanwhile, Ryder’s chat was loading frantically, scrolling with endless updates: Why did he open the bottle for him? He’s smiling again. He smiles so sweetly. Stop smiling at him. So jealous. I want to lock him away so no one else can look at him. I felt a burning gaze on me. I looked up and locked eyes with Ryder. His stare was raw, intense, and predatory. The chat status could not possibly be real. But then why was Ryder looking at me like that? Did I do something to piss him off? 05 When the second half started, Ryder played with a terrifying intensity. Single-handedly, he completely dominated the scoreboard, crushing our team. Someone on our side groaned in frustration. “Is Ryder trying to get scouted for the NBA or what?” “Seriously. It’s not like there are girls watching. Who is he playing so hard for?” Asher’s face grew incredibly tense. He gritted his teeth and tried to keep up. Gradually, my stamina gave out, and my movements slowed. Drenched in sweat, I grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it up to wipe my face. My pale, slender waist was fully exposed in the bright sunlight. Just as Ryder dribbled past me, he suddenly grabbed my wrist, pulling my hand down. The referee instantly blew the whistle, calling a foul on him. I pulled my shirt down, staring at him in utter confusion. But Ryder just stood there, a faint, unbothered smirk playing on his lips. 06 Accidents are bound to happen on the court. As I was trying to block a player, someone slid into me, sending me crashing hard onto the concrete. “Ah!” I gasped, struggling to get back up. My knee was badly scraped and already starting to swell. Even with someone supporting me, I could not put any weight on it. “Damn, Mason, you hit him like a truck! Look what you did to his leg!” “Get him to the clinic. That’s going to get infected if we don’t clean it.” I tried to limp, but a sharp, blinding pain shot up my leg. “Don’t move, Toby. Someone needs to carry you.” Everyone turned their eyes to Asher. They all assumed Asher was the closest to me and would be the one to take me. But right then, the campus bell rang, and crowds of students began flooding onto the pathways nearby. Asher hesitated. The silence grew heavy and incredibly awkward. I was about to tell them it was fine, that I could hop there myself. But suddenly, a firm hand gripped my arm, and a broad back blocked my view. “Get on.” Short and commanding. It was Ryder. 07 He was tall, and his shoulders were incredibly broad. The campus paths were lined with blooming jacaranda trees, their purple petals drifting down around us. I looked up at the sky. Ryder carried me in silence before suddenly speaking up, his voice low. “What do you guys talk about?” “Huh?” Ryder’s voice softened even more. “I am not good at talking. You always have so much to say to him. Can you talk to me like that too?” I was trying to pursue Asher. The sweet, heart-fluttering things I wrote to my crush were not exactly things I could share with a guy I barely knew. So, I stayed silent. As we walked, Ryder suddenly gave me a slight jolt, tossing me higher on his back. Startled, I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck. “What are you doing?!” Ryder let out a soft laugh, his large hands securing his grip under my thighs. “Nothing. My hands just slipped.” He gently set me down on the examination table in the clinic, standing by as the nurse began disinfecting my scraped knee. I winced, hissing through my teeth. Maybe trying to distract me from the pain, Ryder suddenly asked, “What do you even like about Asher?” I looked down. During our freshman year, someone had found out about my sexuality and posted about it on the anonymous school forum. The thread stayed pinned at the top for three agonizing days. I was dissected, judged, and ridiculed by the entire campus. I felt like my world was ending. I had crawled into a dark corner behind the old bleachers to cry by myself. Then, Asher had appeared. He walked up to me, handed me a bottle of peach milk, and told me to stop crying. That same night, the forum thread was hacked and permanently deleted. Someone told me they saw Asher leaving the computer lab. From that moment on, I decided Asher was my hero. Gradually, I began following him around like a shadow. Even though he never gave me a straight answer, the rare smiles he threw my way were enough to keep me going for months. The sharp sting of the alcohol prep pad made me flinch, tears welling up in my eyes. When I looked up at Ryder, my nose pink and eyes watery, I must have looked incredibly pathetic. “Ryder, I won’t be able to get around much for a while. Can you do me a favor?” Ryder knelt down in front of me, his gaze surprisingly gentle. “What do you need?” “Help me win Asher over.” I heard his knuckles pop as his hands clenched into tight fists. I flinched. Ryder had a reputation as a ruthless bad boy. Was he going to hit me? “It’s fine if you don’t want to!” I stammered, my voice trembling. Ryder’s eyes looked slightly bloodshot. “I’ll do it. But you have to promise me one condition.” 08 Early the next morning, Ryder knocked on my dorm door. I handed him the breakfast bag I had packed for Asher. He didn’t take it. Instead, he stared down at me with a blank, unreadable face. “So, do we hug first?” He took a step closer, pulling me firmly against his chest. My face pressed directly into the warm, solid muscle of his torso. I went completely stiff. Before I could even process what was happening, Ryder snatched the breakfast bag from my hand. He turned and walked away. The door slammed shut behind him. How terrifying. The condition I had agreed to back in the clinic was simple: I had to teach Ryder how to date. He claimed he had been single his entire life, and though he had a crush on someone, he was too terrified to make a move. He wanted me to teach him the ropes. My heart was still hammering against my ribs from how natural his embrace had felt. Assuming the breakfast had been delivered to Asher by now, I pulled out my phone and texted him. [Did you like the breakfast?] [It was decent. The banana milk was really sweet.] Huh? I had packed peach milk. Did I grab the wrong carton? I opened my chat with Ryder to ask him about it. But the moment his chat window loaded, his status caught my eye: The user is so embarrassed they want to kick a wall. They want to grab you and kiss you senseless. How alarming. I decided it was safer not to poke the bear. 09 Ryder started coming to my room more and more. Sometimes we practiced holding hands; sometimes we practiced hugging. Even my roommate got used to his constant presence, teasing us one afternoon. “Honestly, if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you two were dating. You’re practically glued to each other.” I watched as Ryder’s lips curved into a faint, satisfied smirk. The audacity! My roommate had no idea he was joking with the campus bad boy. Ryder was only getting dating experience from me to use on his actual crush. Did he want to get killed? I quickly glared at my roommate to shut him up. Then, I turned a flattering smile on Ryder. Ryder’s expression instantly turned icy. He snatched the box of chocolates I had bought for Asher and walked out. The door slammed so hard the walls vibrated. After I showered, I received a rare, unsolicited message from Asher: [That was really sweet of you. Those chocolates are expensive.] His status read: Touched. I was a bit surprised. They were only about twenty dollars. That wasn’t really expensive. [By the way, my birthday party is next Friday. You should come.] Asher was actually inviting me. Overjoyed, I exited the chat, my eyes naturally drifting to Ryder’s status. Because I had been asking him to deliver things to Asher for me, I ended up texting him far more than I ever texted Asher. His status at that moment read: A little overwhelmed by the sweetness, but loving every second of it. 10 On the day of Asher’s birthday party, the weather was miserable. The moment I stepped outside, the sky opened up. I had an umbrella, but to protect the carefully wrapped gift in my arms, I let myself get completely drenched. By the time I finally reached the lounge bar, I realized Asher hadn’t sent me the room number. I called and texted him, but got no reply. His status read: Drunk and having a blast. A cold gust of wind made me shiver. I stopped a server, gave them Asher’s name, and was guided down a dim hallway to a private VIP room. I smoothed down my wet clothes, trying to look presentable, and prepared to knock. But then, through the heavy door, I heard my own name. The atmosphere inside was nothing like I had imagined. The heavy, suffocating stench of alcohol and vape smoke leaked through the gap. The harsh, neon purple lights cast ugly shadows on everyone inside. “Yo, Asher lost the round! Truth or dare, man. What’s the deal with that gay kid who follows you around like a lost puppy? Are you actually going to date him?” Asher’s voice sounded slurred, distorted. “No way in hell. I like girls. I just think he’s hilarious. It’s fun to play along.” “Oh, damn!” The room erupted into loud, mocking laughter. My heart felt like it had been violently squeezed. “Keep going, keep going!” “Asher lost again! This time, it’s a dare! Call your little simp, put it on speaker, and tell him you love him! We want to hear his reaction!” Everyone in the room cheered, their faces twisted with cruel excitement. “Yeah! Let’s see how fast he loses his mind.” Asher looked a bit uncomfortable. But with his friends egging him on, he pulled out his phone. A second later, my screen lit up with Asher’s incoming call.

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My father accidentally added me to a group chat called “One Big Happy Family.” There were only three people in it: my father, my mother, and a stranger saved under the nickname “Princess.” They were in the middle of a flurry of messages, eagerly planning a lavish birthday party for her. Tomorrow was her birthday. And tomorrow was also my birthday, which they had consistently forgotten for ten consecutive years. My mother wrote: The venue has to be absolutely magical. We want her to feel like a real princess. My father sent a massive digital cash transfer: Money is no object. Just don’t let your sister find out. I don’t want her making a fuss and ruining the mood. I silently took screenshots of the chat, preparing to wait for the perfect moment to tear their happy little facade to pieces. Just then, my younger brother, Gary, a straight-A student and the pride of our family, sent me a private message. It was a screenshot of his own chat with our father. Dad, is Gilly’s surprise party all set up? You promised me, this is the last time we lie to her. 1 Staring at the screenshot Gary sent, a cold dread seeped into my bones. A surprise? The last time they would lie to me? Every single year on my birthday, they brushed me off with the exact same tired excuses. “Gilly, something urgent came up at the office.” “Gilly, your mother booked a spa day with her friends. Just order yourself some takeout, okay?” This year, they didn’t even bother with the excuses. They had simply replaced me with a brand-new daughter. I tossed my phone onto the bed, a suffocating weight pressing down on my chest. Gary’s name popped up on my screen again: Gilly, don’t overthink it. Mom and Dad… I cut him off with two words: I get it. Overthink? How could I possibly misinterpret this? The proof was laid out right in front of me. This lavish birthday party for “Princess” was the very “surprise” they were using to justify their lies. I, their flesh-and-blood daughter, was nothing more than a background prop, a shadow meant to highlight the dazzling happiness of another girl. From the living room, I heard my mother’s hushed, excited voice on the phone. “Yes, we want the pink balloons. The largest, glossiest ones you have.” “Stella loves pink. We must make sure everything is perfect for her.” Stella. So that was her name: Stella. I opened my social media app and searched for the name. It didn’t take long to find her. Her profile picture was a polished, professional portrait, and her feed was filled with glamorous photos of her travels all over the world. Her most recent post was a picture of her standing between two middle-aged people. The background was our living room. The two people were my parents. In the photo, they smiled with a warmth and tenderness I had never once seen on their faces. My mother was affectionately linking arms with Stella, while my father stood beside them, his eyes full of pure adoration. The caption read: Thank you to my wonderful Aunt and Uncle! I can’t wait for the party tomorrow! My mother had commented below: Silly girl, there’s no need to be formal with us. My father had left a heart emoji. What a beautiful “happy family.” I saved the photo to my private, encrypted vault alongside the group chat screenshots. These would be the “surprises” I presented to them tomorrow. At dinner, my mother ladled a bowl of hot chicken soup, setting it down in front of me with an eager smile. “Gilly, drink up. I simmered this soup for hours just for you.” Staring at the greasy broth, a wave of intense nausea hit the back of my throat. “Is this to build up my energy for Stella’s birthday party tomorrow?” I asked, my voice light and conversational. My mother’s smile instantly froze on her face. She darted a panicked look at my father, whose expression darkened immediately. “What nonsense are you talking about? Who on earth is Stella?” “Oh? Has your memory started to fail you, Dad?” I pulled out my phone and tapped open the saved photo. “This girl right here. Isn’t she your precious princess?” My father’s face turned a violent shade of grey. My mother scrambled to smooth things over. “Gilly, you’ve got it all wrong. She’s the daughter of an incredibly important client of your father’s. We’re just helping them organize her celebration.” “An important client’s daughter?” I let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “So important that you needed to create a private group chat, save her as ‘Princess,’ and send her massive cash transfers?” “So important that you can completely ignore your own daughter’s birthday?” In an instant, the dining room fell so quiet that only our breathing could be heard. Gary rushed out of his room, grabbing my arm. “Gilly, please, just stop talking!” I shook his hand off. “Why? Are you going to help them keep up the lie, too?” Gary’s face drained of color, his lips parting, but he couldn’t find a single word to say. 2 The next day, on my birthday, the house was entirely empty. On the kitchen counter lay a hundred-dollar bill and a scrap of paper in my mother’s elegant handwriting: Gilly, left some money for you on the counter. Buy yourself something nice to eat. Ten years of the exact same neglect, down to the very last dollar. I crumpled the bill into a tight ball and threw it into the trash can. After our argument last night, they didn’t even bother pretending anymore. Before they left, I had heard my mother gushing on the phone. “The venue is fully set up! It looks like an absolute fairytale!” My father was busy barking instructions on the balcony. “Make sure you pack that bottle of ’82 Lafite. We want to make sure Stella has the time of her life today.” And I was left behind, wandering through my own home like a ghost. Gary had left early as well. Before he walked out the door, he had looked at me with a complicated, aching expression. “Gilly, no matter what you see today, please trust me.” Trust him? Trust that he was simply a co-conspirator in this cruel game? I offered a cold, silent smirk, turning away. Around noon, a moving truck pulled up outside. Two delivery workers carried a massive, velvet-lined box up the steps, decorated with an obnoxious pink bow. Standing by the window, I realized that in their eyes, I was worth less than a parcel. My mother ran down the steps to sign for it, her face glowing with excitement. She directed the workers with frantic hand gestures, terrified they might scratch the contents. I recognized the gold emblem on the box. It was a limited-edition grand piano released just last month, carrying a price tag of six figures. Meanwhile, my own piano sat in the corner of my room, its keys yellowed with ten years of use, its tuning long gone. I had tried to gently drop hints to my mother about it before, but she had always brushed me off. It still plays fine, Gilly. We have too many expenses to worry about right now. It wasn’t that the expenses were too high. It was just that I wasn’t worth the cost. The very last ember of hope in my heart died. In the afternoon, I changed into a sharp, tailored black dress. I applied my makeup meticulously, concealing the exhaustion under my eyes. I refused to let them see me break down. I would draw the line between us with absolute pride. I had overheard the venue’s address during my mother’s phone call yesterday. They had rented out the most exclusive grand ballroom in the city. I called a cab. Along the way, the driver kept glancing at the road ahead, whistling. “Big day today, huh, kid? The entire avenue ahead is blocked off. Apparently, some wealthy family is throwing a massive birthday party for their daughter. The scale is incredible.” I curved my lips slightly, remaining silent. Yes, the scale was incredible. So grand that it required ten years of my quiet misery to serve as its prelude. A plush red carpet stretched out from the ballroom entrance, lined on both sides with towering arrangements of pink roses. The welcome sign at the entrance read: Happy Birthday to our precious Princess. And the signature at the bottom: With all our love, Mom and Dad. The words burned my eyes. I pulled out my phone and sent Gary a text: I’ve arrived to claim your surprise. Taking a deep breath, I adjusted my shoulders, stepped onto my heels, and walked into the ballroom. The room was filled with the clinking of crystal glasses and soft laughter. My parents were standing in the center of the crowd, looking radiant as they greeted their high-society guests. And right beside them stood a girl in a stunning, custom-made pink gown. Stella. She looked like a proud peacock, basking in the adoration and blessings of everyone in the room. My mother stepped forward, gently placing a delicate diamond tiara onto Stella’s head. “Our Stella is the most beautiful princess in the world today.” My father handed her a velvet jewelry box, revealing a sparkling diamond necklace. “Do you like it? I had it custom-designed just for you.” Stella smiled sweetly, her eyes shining. “Thank you, Uncle, Auntie. You treat me so wonderfully.” A chorus of admiring murmurs rippled through the guests. “Gavin, she might be your goddaughter, but you treat her better than a biological child!” “Honestly, we’re all put to shame by this level of generosity.” “If you treat your goddaughter this well, Gavin, your own daughter’s birthday party must be legendary. You’d probably pluck the stars from the sky for her!” My parents laughed warmly, waving their hands in polite dismissal. “Of course, of course, she deserves nothing less.” No one noticed me standing in the shadowed corner of the room. I raised my phone, recording every single second of their happy display. Then, I smoothed down the fabric of my black dress, picked up a glass of champagne, and walked slowly toward them. 3 The laughter and music around me seemed to fade into a dull hum. In my vision, there was only that picture-perfect family of three. My father raised his glass, projecting his voice over the microphone. “Thank you all for joining us today to celebrate our princess…” “Our princess?” I repeated, my voice cutting through the air like a knife. The smiles on my parents’ faces instantly froze. My mother reacted first, stepping forward to grab my hand, but I cleanly stepped out of her reach. “Gilly? What are you doing here?” Her voice carried a sharp tremor. “Come, let me introduce you. This is…” “This is Stella, your precious princess, correct?” I interrupted, my gaze locking onto the girl in the pink gown. The smile vanished from Stella’s face. She looked at me, bewildered, a flash of distress crossing her features as she turned to my parents for help. “Who is this?” a guest whispered in confusion. My father’s face turned a violent shade of red. He stepped forward, his voice a low, warning hiss. “Gillian! Stop making a scene! Go home immediately!” “Making a scene?” I let out a cold laugh. “Dad, have you forgotten what day it is?” “Today is also the birthday of your actual, biological daughter. My birthday.” I pronounced each word with absolute, freezing clarity. The room erupted into a flurry of whispers. The guests’ eyes darted back and forth between my parents and me, their expressions alive with shock. “So she’s the real daughter… then why is…” “Unbelievable. Ignoring your own daughter’s birthday to throw a massive party for an outsider?” “What is Gavin thinking? I don’t understand this at all.” The murmurs drifted into my parents’ ears, and their expressions grew frantic. My mother’s lips trembled violently. My father’s panic quickly twisted into sheer, defensive rage. “Enough!” He slammed his hand down on a nearby table, rattling the glasses. “Did you show up today just to ruin this?” “Ruin this?” I raised my phone, playing the video I had just recorded. “Dad, who is the one ruining things here? Who is the one pretending to prepare a surprise for me, while placing a tiara on another girl’s head?” On the screen, my mother’s gentle voice echoed clearly through the silent ballroom. Our Stella is the most beautiful princess in the world today. The words repeated over the speaker, sounding incredibly mocking in the dead silence. My mother’s face went completely pale. “And what about this?” I swiped to the family photo I had saved. “The daughter of an ‘important client’ who somehow became your precious princess?” I turned the screen toward the guests, letting everyone see the photo and my mother’s affectionate comments. The expressions in the crowd grew increasingly colorful. My father was shaking with rage, pointing a finger at me as he struggled to speak. “Gillian… you…” “What about me?” I met his gaze, my eyes burning with hot tears, though my voice remained steady and cold. “I just wanted to ask you face-to-face: does raising a brand-new daughter feel much better than raising your old one?” “I just want to know what I did so wrong that you had to humiliate and abandon me like this!” My voice rose, carrying the weight of ten years of neglected birthdays and silent tears. Stella’s face went completely pale. She clutched my mother’s sleeve, whispering, “Auntie, this…” My mother shook her off, staring at me, her eyes brimming with a sudden, desperate regret. “Gilly, it’s not what you think. It’s really not what you think!” “Then what is it?” I demanded, stepping closer. “Tell me!” Just then, the grand doors of the ballroom were flung open. Gary rushed in, his face ghostly pale as he took in the chaotic, screaming scene. He ran to me and grabbed my arms, his voice shaking violently. “Gilly, please, let me explain!” “Enough! I don’t want to hear another single lie from any of you!” I tried to wrench myself free. I had achieved my goal. I wanted everyone to see the true face of my perfect parents. I raised my phone, ready to project the screenshots onto the giant screen behind them. “Dad, Mom, it’s time for this play to end!” Just as my finger hovered over the button. Gary lunged forward, ripping the phone from my hand and clutching it tightly to his chest. “Gilly! I beg you! Just give me five minutes! Only five minutes!”

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My sister and I are the twin bosses of a notorious horror game. As everyone knows, twin bosses in horror games always share a unique, bound trait: we must be killed at the exact same time. If even one of us survives, we will infinitely resurrect. So, when my sister fell in love with a player who entered our dungeon, choosing to surrender her boss status and leave the game to live in the real world with him, I didn’t care. After all, if things went south and she died out there, she would simply respawn back home with me. But by the third year of her departure, I noticed myself growing weaker and weaker. It reached a point where even absolute rookies entering the dungeon could easily slaughter me and clear the game. Finally unable to bear it any longer, I forced my way out of the dungeon, determined to see what on earth my sister was doing. Instead, I found her in a hospital room, her body covered in tubes, barely kept alive on life support. Meanwhile, the boyfriend she had abandoned everything to follow was shamelessly using the massive dungeon points she had accumulated to buy rare items, all just to please some cheap, red-lipped woman. Staring at this utterly ridiculous scene, a chilling, distorted smile spread across my face. Since you are too greedy to kill her because of her points, then I will do it myself. 1 When the iron sword pierced my chest, I didn’t even have the strength to fight back. The male player in front of me, clad in cheap, starter-cloth armor, was so terrified that he collapsed onto his backside, letting go of the sword’s hilt entirely. “Did… did I just solo a boss?” He stared at his hands in disbelief, before erupting into an ecstatic scream, spinning around to shout at his distant companions. “Holy crap! Is this really the dungeon boss? She’s pathetic! She just stood there and let me hack her to pieces!” “Awesome job! I thought this dungeon was supposed to be the Rookie Graveyard? Guess those forum posts were just hyping it up!” A group of clueless newbies crowded around, gesturing wildly at my corpse, their eyes gleaming with the greedy satisfaction of an easy kill. I stared coldly at their pathetic celebration as my vision faded to black. What a humiliating way to die. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the core chamber of the dungeon. The weightless disorientation of resurrection hadn’t even cleared before I forced my weakened body upright. The lightning-shaped, ghostly blue sigil at the corner of my eye burned with raw fury. I looked up at the holographic control panel floating in the air. Glaring red warning lights pulsed across the screen. What was once a legendary S-class dungeon, a nightmare to even the top-tier players, now bore a shameful B-class tag. I clenched my fists, fingernails digging deep into my palms until dark crimson blood dripped onto the floor. Too weak. My current power wasn’t even a fraction of what it had been at my peak. As twin bosses of this brutal realm, my older sister, Seraphina, and I shared our life force and power. We rose together, and we fell together. Three years ago, my painfully naive sister surrendered her godlike powers for a player named Marcus. She abandoned the game and crossed into the real world to live what she called a normal life. How had I tried to warn her back then? “Humans are nothing but bottomless pits of greed and deceit, Seraphina. If you go out there completely defenseless, they will strip you to the bone and leave absolutely nothing left!” But she had only smiled, patting my head, her once-regal face filled with a desperate longing for cheap, fleeting warmth. “Val, Marcus is different. He showed me what real warmth feels like. I want to take a chance on him.” Warmth? To hell with that. A sudden, violent cough tore through my chest, and I spat out a mouthful of dark, stagnant blood. Feeling my life force drain away at a terrifying rate, I could almost smell the rot of my own soul. Seraphina was in trouble in the real world, a mortal danger so severe it was dragging me down with her. If she had the decency to just die, it would be fine, she would simply respawn here in the core, and we would rule our domain once more. But if she was kept in some half-dead state, she would drag me down to an eternity of pathetic weakness. Looking at the screen, staring at the absolute system protocol: [Dungeon Entities Strictly Forbidden From Exiting Game], a dark smirk curved my lips. I gripped my bone butterfly knife, channeled every ounce of my remaining power, and slammed the blade directly into the core of the console. “Warning! Unauthorized system tampering detected!” “Warning! Critical system vulnerability detected. Dimensional barrier compromised…” The shrill, mechanical alarm blared through the chamber. The massive backlash of energy instantly tore open the flesh of my hand. Blood dripped down the blade, but I didn’t stop. Instead, I drove the knife even deeper. The indestructible glass shattered, and a dark, jagged tear in space ripped open before me. It was a rift to the mortal realm, filled with chaotic currents that would shred a normal human to pieces. Without so much as flinching, I stepped right into the void. 2 The agonizing tearing sensation felt like it was ripping my soul to shreds. By the time my feet hit solid ground, my surroundings had completely changed. The sharp, clinical stench of bleach and rubbing alcohol hit me instantly. A private hospital in the mortal world. The localized reality protocols kicked in immediately, suppressing my already shattered power down to the level of a frail human. I clung to the cold wall, panting heavily, looking up as I followed the faint, agonizingly fragile tether of our twin bond. At the end of the corridor was a tightly closed intensive care room. My twin senses screamed that Seraphina was on the other side of that door. Peering through the small glass window on the door, the horrific scene inside finally met my eyes. On the bed lay a woman who was nothing but skin and bones. Her cheeks were hollow, her skin a ghastly, translucent grey, and her once-glorious dark hair was a matted, dry mess scattered across the pillow. A dirty, oversized hospital gown hung loosely off her skeletal frame, soaked through with some strange chemical fluid. If it weren’t for the residual thrum of our bloodline, I would never have believed this pathetic husk was my older sister, the legendary boss who had once slaughtered countless elite players without mercy. Dozens of thick medical tubes clung to her skin like bloated leeches, draining her veins. A heavy monitor beside the bed beeped rhythmically, actively harvesting her accumulated dungeon points and pumping them out. I watched her through the glass. I felt no pity, only a deep, burning contempt for her sheer stupidity. No wonder I couldn’t even beat a rookie back in the dungeon. I spun my blood-stained butterfly knife with practiced ease. There was no room for hesitation. I had to kill her. The moment she drew her last breath, the twin-reset protocol would trigger. We would shed these fragile, pathetic mortal shells and respawn at full strength back in our domain. My hand gripped the cold brass handle. But just as I prepared to step in and slit her throat, voices drifted through the crack in the door. “Marcus, baby, how many points does this monster have left anyway? I saw these gorgeous S-class glowing vanity wings in the shop yesterday, and I’m still short thirty thousand points.” A woman in a skin-tight, scarlet leather dress leaned against the bed. She twirled a strand of her dyed burgundy waves with bright red-lacquered nails, her eyes dripping with smug condescension. Beside her stood a man in a tailored designer suit, pushing up a pair of gold-rimmed glasses. Marcus, the pathetic worm who had coaxed Seraphina out of her kingdom. Marcus offered a sleek, greedy smile. “Don’t worry, Raven. That stupid bitch is a walking goldmine. As long as we keep her on life support, the points will keep rolling in.” Raven giggled, casting a disgusted look at Seraphina’s limp body. “God, she’s repulsive. If it weren’t for the free points, I wouldn’t spend a single second in this smelly room looking at her pathetic face.” “Just bear with it a little longer,” Marcus chuckled, pinching Raven’s chin. His voice was filled with sheer mockery. “If I hadn’t played the devoted boyfriend and fed her a few cheap lies about warmth, she would have never surrendered her core crest. A literal monster thinking she could live a normal life with humans? It’s hilariously pathetic.” “Oh, Marcus, you’re absolutely wicked.” Raven giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling down his expensive silk tie. Marcus pinned her against the edge of the mattress. To the steady, mechanical beeping of Seraphina’s life support, they began to make out, tearing at each other’s clothes right in front of my dying sister. Listening from the hallway, my stomach churned with pure disgust. I knew my sister was blind, but I didn’t realize she had crawled into bed with garbage. Trading her divinity for this cheap piece of trash, reducing herself to a living battery. It was pathetic. I gripped my butterfly knife tight, the blue sigil on my temple throbbing with sheer hatred. I couldn’t stand the sound of their breath for another second. Inside, the rustling of clothes indicated they were finishing up. I took a half-step back, raising my leg to kick the door open and slaughter them both. But before my boot could make contact, the brass handle clicked, and the door swung open from the inside. 3 The moment the door opened, I found myself face-to-face with Marcus. He was casually adjusting his tie while Raven stood behind him, smoothing out her tight red dress. When his eyes landed on my face, he froze, his pupils shrinking to pinpricks. “Seraphina?” Raven shrieked, her manicured finger trembling as she pointed at me. “How is that possible? The brain-dead bitch is literally still hooked to the machines inside!” Marcus, however, was quick to recover. The shock in his eyes melted into a chilling wave of pure greed. “She’s not Seraphina,” he whispered, his eyes scanning me like I was a mountain of gold. “She’s the twin boss… Valerie!” I didn’t waste time on words. Reversing my grip on my bone butterfly knife, I lunged, aiming directly for his carotid artery. But as the blade cut through the air, my limbs felt incredibly heavy. Seraphina’s dying state, combined with the crushing reality suppression of this realm, had reduced my physical capabilities to practically nothing. I was weaker than an average human. My once-lethal strike was a joke to him. He stepped aside easily, slipping a gold-glowing card from his jacket. “High-tier item: Absolute Stasis.” A blinding flash erupted, and translucent, heavy chains materialized out of thin air, binding my wrists and ankles. I hit the floor with a dull thud. The bone butterfly knife slipped from my grasp, clattering into a dark corner. “Oh, Marcus, you’re amazing!” Raven cheered. She strutted over, slamming her sharp heel right onto the back of my hand, grinding it into the floor. “Talk about a buy-one-get-one-free deal! Hook her up to the harvester too! I’ll get my wings in no time!” Marcus grabbed a fistful of my hair, pulling my head back with a cruel laugh. “Patience, Raven. The twin boss system is complex. We need to figure out how to siphon both of them without triggering a system override. Take her to the basement.” This private clinic was Marcus’s personal playground, and he had a fully equipped dungeon of his own beneath the floorboards. I was dragged down into the pitch-black basement and suspended from the ceiling by heavy titanium cuffs. “Tell me,” Marcus snarled, holding a crackling high-voltage whip. “Where is the link to the twin core? How do we drain your point reserves?” The whip lashed across my chest. Blinding blue electricity surged through my skin, sending agonizing shocks straight to my nerves. I bit my lip until it bled, letting out a weak, raspy chuckle. I stared at him with eyes that promised his absolute death. “Think you’re tough?” Raven sneered, stepping forward with a vial of corrosive acid she had bought from the system shop. She grabbed my jaw, her face twisted with bitter jealousy. “This pretty little face of yours is just as annoying as your sister’s.” She tipped the vial, pouring the acid directly over my shoulder. My flesh bubbled and hissed, the agonizing chemical burn eating through skin and muscle to the bone. I entire body convulsed. Cold sweat soaked my clothes, but I refused to give them the satisfaction of a scream. They took turns torturing me, using every cruel item in their inventory. Soon, there wasn’t a single patch of uninjured skin left on my body. My blood dripped steadily from my toes, pooling on the concrete floor. But my mind remained razor-sharp. With every strike, I mapped out a hundred different ways to tear them apart. Pain was nothing. As long as I kept breathing, I would carve this debt into their very souls. “Marcus, the bitch is about to pass out, and she still won’t talk,” Raven huffed, wiping blood from her hands. Marcus frowned, reaching for a more brutal tool, when the system tracker on his wrist began to beep frantically with a loud countdown. 4 The shrill countdown echoed through the damp basement. Marcus’s face darkened, and he ripped off his tie in frustration. “Damn it. The mandatory dungeon queue is pulling us in.” Raven pointed a blood-stained finger at me. “What about her? We just leave her here?” “We have to. If we ignore a mandatory summon, the system will delete us,” Marcus growled. He tapped the wall panel, tightening the cuffs around my wrists until they cut off my circulation. “Leave her alive. We’ll finish her off when we get back. It’s just a low-tier B-class run anyway. We’ll be back in a few hours.” “Lucky bitch,” Raven spat, kicking dust in my direction. Two flashes of light enveloped them, and they vanished into thin air. The basement plunged into a heavy, suffocating silence. I stared at the heavy titanium bands around my wrists. The high-tier magic keeping them locked was incredibly strong, but my physical body was already numb from the torture. A bloody, chilling grin stretched across my lips. With a sudden, violent wrench of my left hand, I slammed my wrist against the sharp edge of the cuff, deliberately shattering my own thumb and wrist bones. The loud pop of cracking bone filled the quiet room. Without blinking, I dragged my mangled, bloody hand out of the metal ring, leaving a trail of skin and flesh behind. With one arm freed, the weight pulled me down, and I crashed onto the hard concrete. My internal organs screamed in protest. Coughing up a glob of dark blood, I used my good right arm to drag my broken legs across the floor, inch by painful inch. In the dim light of the corridor, my bone butterfly knife lay waiting. I grabbed the hilt, and the familiar cold texture made my blood boil with adrenaline. Step by step, I dragged myself up the dark, narrow stairs, leaving a thick trail of dark blood behind me. I clawed my way back to the top floor, right back to the intensive care unit. I pushed the door open. Seraphina lay there, looking more like a rotting corpse than a living being, the monitor still pulsing with that weak, mechanical beep. Clinging to the bedside frame, I forced myself upright. I looked down at her gaunt, ruined face, feeling nothing but a cold, hard resolve. “Sera, this pathetic nightmare is over.” Without another word, I raised the knife and drove it straight into her heart. The blade sank deep. Warm blood splashed across my face, and the monitor emitted a long, shrill, continuous tone as the green line went completely flat. At that exact moment, in the dead forest of the B-class dungeon, Marcus stepped out of the portal, his arm wrapped around Raven’s waist. “Marcus, it’s so creepy here… I’m scared,” Raven whimpered, clinging to his chest. “Don’t be,” Marcus said, adjusting his glasses and kissing her forehead. His voice was oozing with arrogance. “It’s just a low-tier run. With the legendary armor I just bought, we could clear this with our eyes closed. Just think of it as a vacation.” But as the words left his mouth, a massive, jagged crimson tear ripped open the dark sky above them. The ground beneath them began to violent shake, and then, the cold, mechanical voice of the system, a voice that struck terror into the hearts of every elite player, boomed across the sky: “CRITICAL WARNING!” “REAL-WORLD TWIN CORE RESYNCHRONIZATION DETECTED. DEATH-RESET MECHANISM SUCCESSFULLY ACTIVATED.” “CURRENT REALM UNDERGOING FORCED STRUCTURAL EVOLUTION… RECONSTRUCTION COMPLETE.” “THIS REGIONAL B-CLASS DUNGEON HAS BEEN UPGRADED TO: SUPER S-CLASS!”

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My roommate was a preachy bleeding-heart. On our very first day of college, she snatched my electric bug zapper right out of my hand. “Mosquitoes are living creatures too. How can you be so cruel as to kill them?” That night, she threw all our dorm windows wide open, claiming she wanted to leave a door open for the lost little souls outside. I was bitten so badly that I developed a high fever from the allergic reaction. My eyelids swelled so much I could barely open them. But when I tried to hang a protective mosquito net over my bed, she tore it down, sobbing hysterically. “How can you be so selfish? You protect yourself in a little bubble, but what about them?” In my past life, that single sentence was the catalyst. It triggered a wave of public shaming on our campus forum, pulling my roommates, my classmates, and strangers alike into a self-righteous mob. They called me cold-blooded. They said she was just too pure and kind, and that I couldn’t even tolerate a few tiny insects. Ultimately, the severe allergic reaction sent me into anaphylactic shock, landing me in the ICU. Even as I fought for my life, she cried in front of her livestream camera, claiming my hostile attitude had simply provoked the poor mosquitoes. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on that very first day of college. She was holding down my bug zapper, her eyes rimmed with red. “You won’t hurt them, right?” Instead of arguing, I pulled out my phone, grabbed my documents, and walked straight to the housing director’s office. “Professor, I’m applying to live off-campus.” If anyone wanted to turn their dorm room into a wildlife sanctuary, they could do it without me. 1 Advisor Beth looked up from her desk, the orientation roster only half-turned. “Phoebe? You just checked in. Why are you already asking to commute?” I placed my admission letter, ID copy, hospital allergy certification, and off-campus housing application on her desk. “Professor, I have a medical history of severe, life-threatening allergic reactions to insect bites. Right now, my roommate, Lisa, is refusing to let us use any bug spray or zappers, and she won’t even let me hang a net.” The office fell dead silent. A student assistant sorting files in the corner couldn’t help but snort. “She won’t let you kill mosquitoes?” Beth frowned. “Phoebe, roommate conflicts should be resolved through communication first. Off-campus approval isn’t something we can process in a single day.” Just then, a soft, trembling voice echoed from the doorway. “That isn’t a conflict.” Lisa stood by the door, clutching my electric bug zapper to her chest like a shield. She was wearing a simple white cotton dress, her eyes swollen and red, looking as though she were the one who had been deeply wronged. “Professor, she wants to commit murder.” The smirk on the student assistant’s face instantly froze. Beth stared at the object in Lisa’s arms. “Why do you have her property?” Lisa held the zapper even tighter. “This thing is terrifying. I only took it to keep her from doing something awful. Every living thing has a soul, and they feel pain too.” Tears began to roll down her cheeks. “I know everyone thinks I’m strange, but I just wish this world wasn’t so cruel.” A few freshmen had gathered in the hallway, peeking through the open door. “She’s so sweet and empathetic,” one whispered. Others began to cast judgmental looks in my direction. The familiar, suffocating pressure returned to my chest. In my past life, it had played out exactly like this. The moment Lisa shed a tear, everyone automatically assumed she was the victim. When I said I had an allergy, they accused me of exaggerating. When I said she refused to let me close the window, they claimed it was normal to want fresh summer air. When I said she destroyed my net, they defended her, saying she was just acting out of pure, passionate emotion. And while I lay mute on an ICU bed, they were busy debating whether I was too cold-hearted. This time, I didn’t bother explaining. I simply looked at Beth. “Professor, I’m not here to judge her personal beliefs. I am simply requesting to be separated from her.” Lisa’s sobbing paused. She looked up, tears clinging to her eyelashes. “Do you really hate me that much?” “I am allergic to mosquitoes,” I replied flatly. As if deeply wounded by my coldness, she took a half-step back. “But they are only trying to survive.” I pulled up my sleeve, exposing my forearm. Several large, angry red welts had already blossomed across my skin, their edges inflamed and hot. “So am I.” The office fell silent. Beth looked over my medical document, her brow furrowing deeper. “An off-campus application requires parental consent, department approval, and a housing manager’s signature.” Lisa sniffled, wiping her nose. “Professor, there’s no need to make such a big deal out of this. I’ll work hard to help Phoebe understand how beautiful and precious all life is.” I looked at her. “I don’t need to understand mosquitoes. And I certainly don’t need your effort.” 3 The off-campus application couldn’t be approved on the spot. Beth explained that she needed to contact my parents and the housing department to verify the procedure. Hearing the words “contact parents,” Lisa wept even harder. “Please don’t call my mother. She’ll think I’m causing trouble for others again.” Some of the onlookers at the door softened. “Professor, maybe let them go back to the dorm and talk it out?” “Moving out on the very first day doesn’t look good for the department.” “They’re just girls, a quick chat will clear everything up.” Beth looked at me. Her expression wasn’t one of favoritism, but of sheer exhaustion. University bureaucracy moved slowly, but emotional drama escalated in seconds. Lisa knew exactly how to play the crowd. She clutched the bug zapper, her voice barely a whisper, yet loud enough for everyone in the hallway to hear. “Phoebe, I just want you to carry less hostility in your heart. Mosquitoes are so tiny, they can’t even fight back. If we don’t protect them, who will?” In my past life, this was the point where I had backed down. I had worried about ruining roommate relationships on day one, so I followed her back to the room. That night, she kept the windows wide open and turned off the fan, claiming the breeze would disorient the poor insects. I was bitten repeatedly until four in the morning, my throat swelling and closing. When I reached for my medicine, she cried that the chemical smell would harm them. Later, I was on my knees, clawing at the bed frame as my vision went black. This time, I placed my phone on the desk and pressed record. “Professor, I am happy to cooperate with the official process,” I said. “But until the off-campus approval is finalized, I will not sleep in that dorm. If the university cannot temporarily assign me another bed, I require a written statement from the office.” “A statement?” Beth asked. “Yes. Stating that I have submitted medical proof of a severe allergy, and that the university is aware a student in my assigned dorm is actively preventing basic health and safety measures.” Silence blanketed the office once more. Lisa’s tears dried up instantly. She stared at me, her eyes suddenly cold and unfamiliar. Beth remained quiet for a few seconds before picking up her desk phone and dialing the housing office. “We have an issue in Dorm Building Two, Room 503. Please send a supervisor up there immediately. A student is reporting that she cannot use preventative measures or nets due to a roommate’s interference.” After listening to the reply, Beth’s expression grew incredibly complicated. “Yes, I am serious. It’s not a joke.” Lisa suddenly lunged toward me. “Why do you have to blow everything out of proportion?” Her voice was sharp, yet she quickly softened it for the crowd outside. “We could have easily learned to understand each other.” Nearby, someone raised a phone to record us. I stepped back. “Don’t touch me.” Lisa bit her lip, fresh tears spilling over. “I didn’t touch you! Why are you acting like I’m a monster?” Suddenly, the bug zapper in her arms let out a loud zap. She must have accidentally pressed the power button. A bright flash of blue-purple electricity crackled in the air. With a shriek, she threw the zapper away. It flew across the room and slammed into a girl’s suitcase near the door, leaving a nasty white crack in the plastic shell. The girl’s face went white. “That’s my new suitcase!” Lisa scrambled to her feet, panicked. “I’m sorry! It was an accident!” The girl shook with anger. “Does an accident mean you don’t have to pay for it?” Lisa turned her watery eyes back to me. “Phoebe, you scared me. That’s why I dropped it.” Once again, all eyes turned to me. Looking at the cracked suitcase, I wanted to laugh. In my past life, it had been the exact same pattern. When she dumped my repellent down the drain, it was my fault for bringing “toxic weapons” into the room. When she tore my net, it was my fault for provoking her. When I collapsed from a fever, it was my own fragile health at fault, not her gentle heart. Beth spoke up, her voice tight. “Lisa, please write down your details for property damage compensation.” Lisa’s crying halted. “But Professor, I really didn’t mean to.” The girl with the ruined suitcase snapped. “I don’t care what you meant! Are you going to pay for it or not?” Beth closed her eyes. “Let’s go to the dorm.” 4 A small crowd had already gathered outside Dorm Building Two. The building supervisor, the security guard, and the maintenance staff were standing in a line, their faces incredibly grim. The moment the door to Room 503 was unlocked, a damp, sour odor wafted into the corridor. The windows were thrown wide open. On the sill sat a half-filled cup of honey-water, several pieces of rotting peaches, and an open trash bag. In the corner of the balcony, a basin of stagnant water sat undisturbed. Mosquitoes swarmed around the ceiling light, their collective buzzing creating a sickening hum in the small space. The supervisor’s face turned a violent shade of green. “Who did this?” Lisa stood in the center of the room, looking like a martyr. “They get hungry too. The fruit might be ruined for us, but those little lives can still eat it.” The maintenance worker took a deep breath to control his temper. “Miss, this is a student dormitory, not an insect breeding ground. Stagnant water breeds pests, and rotting fruit attracts roaches.” Lisa puckered her lips. “Sir, you’re being so mean. They’ll get scared if they hear you shouting.” A few students in the hallway snickered, while others defended her. “Maybe she’s just incredibly sensitive? We shouldn’t trigger her.” “Honestly, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to protect life.” A large mosquito landed on the supervisor’s arm. She slapped it instantly, leaving a smear of blood. Lisa let out a piercing shriek. “You killed it!” The entire floor fell silent. The supervisor stared at the blood on her palm, her face darkening. “You need to worry about yourself first.” Just then, our other two roommates, Tess and Hazel, walked up the stairs. Tess’s arms were covered in red welts, and she was carrying the torn remains of her mosquito net. “This was mine,” Tess said, her voice shaking. Hazel carried her washbasin, her expression sour. “She wouldn’t let us dump the stagnant water on the balcony. She claimed there might be precious eggs inside.” Seeing them, Lisa acted as if she had found her saviors. “Tess, Hazel, please tell them. You know I didn’t mean any harm.” Tess hesitated, looking away. Hazel glanced at me before lowering her voice. “Actually, Lisa is quite pitiful. She’s just too kind.” There it was again. She’s just too kind. Every single disaster in my past life had started with that exact phrase. Lisa choked up. “Phoebe, I really didn’t know your allergy was this bad.” I pulled up my sleeve, exposing my arm. The rash had spread from my wrist to my elbow, forming a dense, angry patch of red. Tess gasped. “You’re actually having a reaction?” Lisa sniffled. “I thought you were just being dramatic because you thought they were dirty.” The tension in the room thickened. I stared at her. “An allergy is not a matter of being dramatic.” She shrank back, tears pooling in her eyes. “I said the wrong thing. Please don’t raise your voice at me.” Hazel sighed. “Phoebe, she already apologized.” Before I could speak, a mosquito drifted down from the ceiling light, landing on Lisa’s neck. A security guard instinctively raised his hand to swat it, but Lisa bolted backward. “Don’t touch it!” She crashed straight into the shoe rack behind the door. Dozens of shoes clattered to the floor, and a pristine white sneaker landed face-down in the basin of stagnant water. The owner of the shoe let out a scream of pure frustration. “Lisa!” 5 In the end, the room couldn’t be cleared immediately. The maintenance staff insisted on chemical fumigation, but Lisa blocked the doorway, weeping and claiming that fumigation was nothing short of a mass genocide. The supervisor ordered her to throw away the rotting fruit and drain the basin. Lisa clung to the bag of rotting peaches as if she were protecting the last scrap of decency in the world. “But they’re still eating!” Some students offered her tissues, some recorded videos, and others posted updates to the campus forum. Soon, a thread began to trend. Compassionate freshman tries to protect innocent lives, driven to tears by cold-hearted roommate. In the attached photo, Lisa was weeping over her bag of peaches while I stood nearby, my rolled-up sleeve making it look as though I were pointing a finger at her in anger. The comment section exploded. “That roommate looks incredibly aggressive.” “Forbidding bug zappers is a bit much, but her heart is in the right place.” “Just because you have an allergy doesn’t mean you can lack basic empathy.” “It’s just a few mosquitoes. Why can’t she be more accommodating?” Tess handed me her phone, looking incredibly awkward. “Phoebe, do you want to post a statement to clarify?” Looking at the photo, my chest tightened. In my past life, I had tried to clarify. I had posted photos of my severe hives, my hospital records, and the stagnant water she kept on the balcony. But no one cared. They only remembered how beautifully Lisa wept. Beth arranged for me to spend the night in the department conference room. “It’s a temporary solution for tonight. I’ll push your off-campus application through first thing in the morning.” The conference room had no bed. I had to push two chairs together, the hard wood aching against my back. Outside the window, Lisa was still crying down by the dorm entrance. Hazel was wrapping a jacket around her shoulders, and Tess was holding a bottle of warm water for her. Before long, a voice shouted from below. “Phoebe!” I walked to the window. Lisa was looking up, her tears glistening under the streetlamp. “I’m willing to help you take care of them! Please don’t be mad at me anymore, okay?” The crowd below began to egg her on. “She’s offering peace, just accept it!” “She’s doing all this, and you’re still acting proud?” “Don’t be so heartless to your classmate!” I slammed the window shut. My phone buzzed continuously. In our class group chat, someone had shared a screenshot of the forum post. Beth posted a message asking everyone to stop sharing it, but a few sarcastic comments immediately followed. “Some people really know how to run to the advisor the second they get to campus.” “We have to see each other every day for the next four years.” “Is it a crime to respect life now?” I took screenshots of all the messages. At one in the morning, a soft knock sounded on the conference room door. Tess stood outside, her face pale. “Phoebe, Lisa says she can’t sleep because the mosquitoes are still buzzing around the room.” I stared at her. “And?” Tess bit her lip. “She says if you come back, we can all have a proper chat. Otherwise, she won’t be able to rest tonight.” “Whether she rests or not has absolutely nothing to do with me.” Tess stammered, “She… she just wants to make peace with you.” “I don’t accept.” Suddenly, Lisa came running down the hallway. In her hands, she held a glass jar filled with a pale yellow liquid. “Phoebe, please, just smell this.” The sticky, cloying scent of honey blasted me in the face. I instantly backed away. Lisa held up the jar, tears streaming down her face. “This is the food I prepared for them! If you would just smell it, you’d know how much they need us!” My throat began to itch and tighten. Tess panicked. “Lisa, get away from her!” But Lisa acted as if she were deaf, taking another step forward. The mouth of the jar was practically shoved against my chest. I violently slapped her hand away. The glass jar shattered on the floor. Sweet honey-water splashed all over the corridor. Lisa collapsed to the ground, her piercing scream echoing through the entire building. “She destroyed their food! She’s trying to kill me! Help! Murder!”

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“Professor Adler, I am heading back stateside soon. Could you please talk some sense into Phillip? Convince him to take the teaching position and stay at the university?” Professor Adler let out a heavy sigh over the phone. “Freya, what you and his family did back then truly broke that boy.” “Whether he stays or leaves is entirely out of my hands. It is his life.” Freya’s voice trembled, bleeding with desperation. “Professor, I know I messed up. I just want to come back and make things right with Phillip. Please, you have to help me!” Professor Adler looked through the glass window of her office, watching me meticulously prepare test tubes in the lab. She took a moment to steady her breathing. “Freya, a mistake is a mistake. You and Simon intentionally tampered with his food. You poisoned him so Simon could steal his fellowship spot. You nearly killed him.” “Expecting his forgiveness now? You are asking for a miracle.” 1 I was right in the middle of organizing my research data when Professor Adler called me into her office. “Phillip, Freya is flying back from Europe.” I froze for a split second before a bitter smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. “She chose Simon. Her coming back has absolutely nothing to do with me.” “I am hardly going to waste my time chasing a ghost.” Professor Adler slid two application folders across her desk. “Freya and your parents have been calling me non-stop. They want me to convince you to accept the faculty position here.” “The choice is yours. Whatever you decide, I will back you.” I looked down at the two folders. Two entirely different futures laid out right in front of me. Without a word, I reached out and pulled the bottom folder toward me. Professor Adler let out a long, quiet breath. “I knew it. I knew you could never just sweep it under the rug.” I grabbed a tissue from her desk, handed it to her, and crouched down beside her chair. “It is not about holding onto grudges, Professor. I just do not want my life entangled with theirs anymore.” “The Defense Institute is secluded. It will be quiet. That is all I want.” Her eyes softened, swimming with a quiet heartbreak. She had watched her favorite student endure an unimaginable betrayal, and she had been powerless to stop it. “Do what your heart tells you, Phillip. I will handle your parents. I will get them off your back.” I took her wrinkled hand in mine, my chest tight with gratitude. “Thank you, Professor. For everything you have done these past few years.” I was just reaching for the doorknob to leave when her voice stopped me. “Phillip. I know there is a lot of anger in you. But your mother is unwell. She has been in and out of the hospital. She really wants you to visit.” I clenched my jaw, my knuckles turning white around the brass handle. “She gave you life, Phillip. Just go see her once before you leave.” I gave a stiff nod. My throat felt like sandpaper when I finally spoke. “Okay.” 2 Standing on the porch of the house I had not visited in years, a storm of messy emotions brewed in my chest. I raised my hand to knock. Before my knuckles even grazed the wood, the door swung open. “Phillip. You actually came. Come in, get out of the cold!” My father ushered me inside. I swapped my boots for slippers and immediately noticed the dining table. It was piled high with fresh fruit, all my favorites. “Your mom has been having dizzy spells. I asked Professor Adler to see if you would come by.” “I bought fresh fruit every single morning. I figured whenever you decided to show up, you would have something good to eat.” My dad stood there, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. I reached out to grab an orange, but the second my fingers touched the rind, a screeching voice echoed in my head. Put that down! We did not raise you to eat our food and talk back to us! I violently jerked my hand back and stood up straight, staring blankly at the walls. Everything was so familiar, yet utterly suffocating. My dad took a step forward, his eyes full of concern. “Phillip? What is wrong?” I swatted his hand away, my voice dropping to an icy chill. “Where is she? I have places to be. Let us get this over with.” His face fell. The forced cheerfulness cracked, replaced by a pathetic begging look. “Could you stay for just a couple of days?” “No.” I spun on my heel, ready to walk right back out. “Phillip!” Two stray tears rolled down my dad’s cheeks. “Your mom is at the hospital. She wants to see you.” “We know we messed up. She wants to apologize to your face. She is your mother, Phillip. Please just go look at her.” My hands balled into tight fists. A blazing, uncontrollable fire shot straight to my brain. “You know you messed up?” I barked. “The only thing you know is that Simon is never coming back from Europe!” “You finally realized he is not going to stick around to spoon-feed you in your old age. So suddenly, you remember you have an actual biological son!” “Where was this energy when you let Simon and Freya poison my food? When I was hooked up to a ventilator, did it cross your minds that I was your real son?” My dad stumbled back as if I had shoved him. His usually rigid posture crumbled, his shoulders sagging in defeat. “It has been years, Phillip. Can you not just give us a chance to make it right?” “Freya is coming back. She promised us that the moment she lands, she will marry you.” I let out a harsh, mocking laugh. “Dr. Brooks, do you honestly believe I would take back someone else’s sloppy seconds?” He choked on his words. The silence stretched out, thick and heavy. “You two still have a history,” he finally mumbled. “She is coming back specifically for you. We all know how much you loved her. Growing up, whatever she wanted, you gave it to her. Whatever she broke, you fixed.” I stared at him with absolute disgust. “So that was your logic? You banked on my love for her to get away with ruining my life?” “No!” He shook his head frantically. “Simon is your cousin. His parents died. We just wanted to help him get a leg up.” A cold smirk played on my lips. “Help him? You wanted me to drop out of the fellowship competition and hand him my spot on a silver platter.” “But why did you let them spike my food? I almost died in that ER!” My dad looked away. He could not meet my eyes. “Simon told us it would just give you a bad stomach bug. We never thought…” I did not let him finish. I walked right out the front door, leaving him with one final thought. “I will go to the hospital. But whatever little family reunion you are plotting, drop it.” 3 Sitting on the subway heading back to campus, I zoned out, staring at the young couple sitting across from me. They were giggling, admiring the matching rings on their fingers. Phillip, you have to wear this all the time. If I ever catch you taking it off, you are dead meat! Freshman year. Freya had bought us matching promise rings. She claimed it made our childhood pact official. After shoving the ring onto my finger, she had held out her right hand, her cheeks flushed pink. Well, dummy? Put it on your fiancée! My hands had been shaking when I slid that silver band onto her ring finger. When I pulled her into my arms that night, I genuinely believed I held the entire universe. The automated voice announcing my stop dragged me back to reality. The moment I unlocked my dorm room, my phone buzzed. Unknown number. I hit decline. Two seconds later, it buzzed again. “Who is this?” Total silence on the other end. Then, a soft intake of breath. “Phillip. My flight lands the day after tomorrow. Will you pick me up at the airport?” My chest seized. Hot anger flared in my throat. “Freya. Are you really this delusional?” “Can you just talk to me like a normal person?” she snapped back, her voice tinged with annoyance. “This is the first time you have answered my call in years, and you immediately start insulting me.” I scoffed. “Is there a problem with that? You ran off with another guy!” “Did you really expect me to roll out the red carpet?” I could hear her taking a deep, exaggerated breath. “I am moving back for good. Professor Adler already told you about the faculty position, right? We can…” I hung up. I blocked the number immediately. I opened my desk drawer and pulled out the folder Professor Adler had given me. It looked like a standard university faculty application, but underneath was a heavily redacted contract. A Level-1 DOD clearance agreement for a ten-year classified communications project. I was on the shortlist. I grabbed a black pen, signed my name on the dotted line, and walked straight to Professor Adler’s office. “You are sure about this?” she asked, looking at the signed pages. “Once I send this up the chain, there is no backing out.” I smiled, feeling lighter than I had in years. “I stopped looking backward a long time ago, Professor.” “Your father called me about your visit,” she mentioned quietly. “He said your temper is worse than ever. He begged me to talk some sense into you.” I rolled my eyes. “The absolute nerve of that man.” She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it. I knew what she was thinking. “I will visit the hospital, Professor. I promised you I would. But please, do not ask me to forgive them.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Just go.” 4 First thing the next morning, I bought a fruit basket and a bouquet of cheap flowers and took an Uber to the hospital. I found the room number. The moment I pushed the heavy door open, the bathroom door clicked, and Freya stepped out. “Oh! Phillip, you ruined the surprise!” My mother scrambled to sit up in her hospital bed, her face lighting up. “Phillip! You are here, come sit down!” I completely ignored Freya. I set the flowers and fruit on the bedside table and looked at my mother. “What did the doctor say?” Her eyes instantly glossed over with tears. “Nothing serious. Just high blood pressure. They are giving me fluids, and I should be fine.” I nodded. “Good. Then I am leaving.” I turned around, but Freya grabbed my forearm, her grip tight. “Phillip, your mother is sick in a hospital bed. Would it kill you to stay and keep her company for an hour?” “Let go of me,” I said, my voice dead flat. Freya stared at me, looking genuinely shocked. “I cannot believe you are speaking to me like this!” “How else am I supposed to speak to you?” She took a shaky breath, trying to play the bigger person. “Fine. I know you are still mad at me. But I am back now. I will marry you.” “This is what you always wanted, right? I am giving it to you. Just drop this ridiculous attitude like the whole world owes you something.” I stood there, perfectly still, letting her finish her little speech. “Freya,” I said softly, making sure she heard every single syllable. “You are absolute trash.” She froze. The color drained from her face, and her eyes welled up with angry tears. I did not stick around to watch the meltdown. I walked right out of the ward. Freshman year. Simon’s parents my aunt and uncle had been killed in a massive highway pileup. My parents took him in without a second thought. They ordered Freya and me to tutor him, begging us to help him pull his grades up so he could transfer to our university. He was not exactly sharp, but my parents pulled strings behind the scenes. Somehow, the admissions office lowered the threshold just for him. You guys are the best. I will take care of you when you are old, I swear. My parents ate it up. They bought him a brand-new car on the spot as a college acceptance gift. I had been standing in the living room, ready to ask why I had never gotten a car. Freya had grabbed my sleeve, pulling me back. Do not be jealous, Phillip. If they are giving things to Simon, obviously they will give things to you too. I figured she was right. I was the biological son, after all. Soon, Simon was texting Freya constantly, asking her for private tutoring sessions. My time with her vanished. Whenever I brought it up, she would just laugh and poke my forehead. He is your cousin, idiot. Are you seriously jealous of family? I felt a gnawing in my gut, but I pushed it down. Simon had a tragic backstory. He struggled in class. My parents told me to step up. So, I started tutoring him too. Then came the night we stayed up late going over his finals. Freya went to the kitchen to cut some fruit. Simon watched her walk away, his eyes glued to the curve of her waist. Man, I am so jealous you have a girl like her. I want one exactly like that. Every alarm bell in my head went off. I glared at him, my voice dangerously low. “Obviously. She is the girl I have been claiming since day one.” I got up to help Freya in the kitchen. I did not see the toxic, venomous glare Simon shot at the back of my head. A few months later, the excuses started. Whenever I had a robotics competition or a lab deadline, they would suddenly have “study breaks” out of town. They started finding weird reasons to get me out of the apartment. I knew something was wrong. So, I lied. I told them I had an overnight seminar out of state. I waited behind the apartment complex. I watched them walk out with overnight bags, laughing, Freya’s arm looped tight through his. They were heading straight for his car. I stepped out from the shadows and stood directly in their path. Freya ripped her hand away from Simon’s arm like she had been burned. “Phillip! I thought you were at the seminar?” I let out a dark chuckle. “Care to explain where you two are going?” Simon opened his mouth, but Freya stepped in front of him. “Phillip, please do not overthink this. I treat Simon like a little brother. That is all it is.” Under her terrified gaze, I grabbed a baseball bat from the garage and smashed the windshield of Simon’s car to pieces. My parents rushed over after getting the panicked phone call. When they heard what happened, my dad got right in my face, veins popping in his neck. “What is wrong with your head? Why are you always making up these psychotic conspiracy theories?” I picked up an orange from the kitchen counter, peeling it slowly. “I trust my own eyes. I trust what I see.” “They are sleeping together. I caught them sneaking off. There is no conspiracy here, just facts.” My dad slapped the orange right out of my hand. “Put that down! We did not raise you to eat our food and talk back to us!” I bent down, picked up a slice of the orange, popped it in my mouth, and chewed slowly. I looked at my parents, then at Simon and Freya. “So you would rather believe their pathetic lies than your own son’s eyes?” My mom stepped forward and smacked my shoulder hard. “What facts? They are just a brother and sister going on a road trip. So what if they linked arms?” “You spend too much time in that lab. It has rotted your brain!” Looking at the four of them, glaring at me like I was the villain, I realized something broke inside me. Words were useless here. “Freya. We are done.” “Excuse me?” she gasped. My dad lunged forward and backhanded me across the face. I rolled my jaw, feeling the sting. “I said, we are over. The engagement is off.” 5 Freya collapsed onto the floor, sobbing while my mother rubbed her back. I walked out of the house with my dad’s screaming echoing down the street. Simon ran out after me, shouting for the neighborhood to hear. “Phillip, wait! It is my fault! I should not have dragged her on a trip with me!” He jogged up beside me. Once he knew the others could not hear him, his face twisted into a nasty grin. “She thinks you are boring, Phillip. She told me I am way more fun.” “She was screaming my name, telling me I was better than you ever were.” “If you are not going to play with a toy this good, I will gladly take your turn.” I swung hard. My fist connected squarely with his jaw, sending him crashing into the pavement. My dad sprinted out of the house and kicked me in the ribs. All three of them surrounded Simon, checking his bloody lip, completely ignoring me. My mother crouched in the dirt, screaming every curse word in the book at me. Freya just looked at me, her makeup smeared. “Why are you doing this, Phillip?” I lay on the pavement, clutching my ribs, looking at her with pure nausea. “Ask him.” My dad practically threw Simon into the car and sped off to the ER. I watched the taillights fade. I slowly pushed myself up off the concrete and limped the three miles back to campus. The next day, my phone rang. Freya. “Phillip. Simon said he was just trying to explain that we were going as friends, and you just lost your mind and assaulted him.” I laughed, a dry, hollow sound. “If that is the story you want to run with, go ahead. You do not need my approval.” Twenty minutes after I hung up, she was banging on my dorm door. “Your parents want you to apologize to him, Phillip.” I leaned against the doorframe, looking down at her. “And do you agree with them?” She bit her lip and nodded. I actually burst out laughing. “You know exactly what you and Simon did behind my back.” “You know exactly why I hit him. And you have the audacity to stand in my hallway and demand I apologize?” “Do you have no shame left at all?” Tears pooled in her eyes. “Stop talking to me like that.” “I only view him as a brother. That one time… you were ignoring me, and I got drunk, and it just happened.” “It was only one time! I am not the trash you think I am!” I took a deep breath, trying to stop my hands from shaking. She kept going. “I promise you, I already told him we can never cross that line again. It is over.” “Get out!” I roared, my voice shaking the walls. Freya flinched, all the blood draining from her face. She backed away, shaking her head in disbelief. “You are telling me to get out?” She nodded rapidly, her face twisting with rage. “Fine. I am leaving. But do not come crawling back when you regret this!” I slid down the doorframe, pulled my knees to my chest, and bit down on my lip until I tasted copper. I never went back to that house again. By my senior year, a rumor started circulating. Simon, a junior who could barely pass standard chemistry, had miraculously finished all his credits early. He was graduating a year ahead of schedule. Just as the campus gossip hit its peak, Professor Adler called me in. “Your parents called in every favor they had to fast-track his graduation. They want him to qualify for the full-ride doctoral fellowship at Oxford.” She handed me an application form. “The committee wanted to hand you the fellowship without an exam based on your lab work.” “But your father lobbied the board. He demanded a fair, competitive exam for all candidates.” I took the form and aggressively signed my name. “It does not matter, Professor. Simon is not a threat to me academically.”

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1 The project in my hands wrapped up flawlessly. The General Manager handed me a $300,000 bonus check right there on the spot, the entire floor erupting into applause. Before the paper even had time to warm up in my hands, Valerie from my team sidled over. Her lips were stretched into a sickeningly sweet smile. “Congratulations, Aria!” She leaned in, her voice dripping with fake camaraderie. “But let’s be real, this project wouldn’t have crossed the finish line without everyone’s support. Remember when you were drowning in work last month? I was the one who pulled those data summaries together for you.” Her so-called ‘help’ consisted of dumping a spreadsheet riddled with errors onto my desk, forcing me to burn half a day redoing it all myself. I swallowed the urge to roll my eyes and forced a tight, polite smile. “Right. Thanks for that, Valerie.” I thought that would be the end of it. I was dead wrong. First thing the next morning, my phone started buzzing off the hook. The department Slack channel was blowing up. The message at the very top was from Valerie. “To celebrate our massive project success and to thank the team for all our hard work, Aria is treating us to dinner tonight at six! Let’s all go soak up some of that good luck!” I stared at the screen, letting out a dry, incredulous laugh. When did I ever agree to pay for a department dinner? Below her announcement, a cascade of kiss-ass replies had already piled up. “Thanks for organizing, Val! You’re the best!” “Valerie always takes care of us!” “I’ll be there! Aria is so generous! Sticking with Val always pays off!” Reading row after row of people thanking Valerie and praising my non-existent generosity, a hot knot of anger tightened in my chest. While I was sitting there in pure disbelief, another notification popped up. It was Marcus, one of the senior engineers who practically lived in Valerie’s shadow. “You seeing this, Aria? That’s what we call big picture thinking from Valerie. When you’re young and just making a name for yourself, you need to show some gratitude. You’ve got a lot to learn from her about office politics and networking. Don’t just bury your head in your screen.” His message acted like blood in the water, drawing out more sycophants. “Marcus hit the nail on the head! Valerie is a real role model.” “Aria, you should really ask Val to mentor you!” I slammed my phone face-down on the desk. Learn from her? Learn what? How to have the sheer audacity to spend someone else’s money and take all the credit for it? Unbelievable. Seeing that I hadn’t replied in the channel, Valerie sashayed over to my cubicle, her hips swaying with unearned confidence. “Aria, honey, I handled all the reservations for you. Booked the VIP room, the biggest one they have!” She leaned down, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Look, you just bagged a massive payout. If you don’t bleed a little cash to show your appreciation, the people under you are going to get bitter. I’m doing this for your own good. It builds team cohesion.” Looking at her smug, self-satisfied face, a wave of nausea washed over me. I opened my mouth to shut it down immediately. “Valerie, I…” “Oh, stop! Don’t be shy!” She cut me off instantly, her voice rising so the whole floor could hear. “Look at our Aria, guys! So modest, she’s actually blushing! It’s settled then!” That evening, we sat in the largest private dining room of a high-end seafood restaurant. After three rounds of drinks, the room was buzzing with a tipsy, loud energy. Valerie clearly felt the mood was ripe. She tapped her fork against her wine glass and stood up. The room gradually quieted down. “Aria definitely spearheaded this project, and corporate rewarding her with $300,000 is well deserved. We are all thrilled for her!” She offered a token compliment before seamlessly pivoting to her real agenda. “However, no project succeeds in a vacuum. It takes a village, and it takes the silent, grinding effort of every single person sitting at this table!” She paused for dramatic effect, her eyes locking onto mine with the practiced weight of a disappointed parent. “So, I have a proposal. How about you take a slice of that bonus and share it with your work family?” She didn’t even give me a second to process before laying out the math she had obviously been calculating all day. “Nothing crazy. Just carve out $200,000. There are fifteen of us in the department including you. That’s a clean $13,000 per person. You’re young, Aria. You have to look at the long game. There’s always more money to be made, but if a team loses its spirit, you can never get it back.” Her little clique of yes-men immediately started nodding and chiming in. “Valerie is so right! Wealth is better shared, Aria!” “Exactly! Do this, and we’ll bust our asses for you on the next one!” “Thirteen grand isn’t even that much to you now. Just treat it like you’re buying us a vacation!” I had never in my life witnessed a group of people dress up blatant extortion with such righteous vocabulary. Every eye in the room was fixed on me. Some looked greedy, some jealous, and a few held a trace of pity. I calmly set my fork down and picked up a linen napkin, dabbing the corners of my mouth. “Valerie, you make a fascinating point.” A triumphant, greedy light ignited in Valerie’s eyes, as if the cash was already resting in her bank account. “But tell me,” I kept my voice perfectly level. “What exactly did any of you do to help me on this project?” Her smile froze instantly. The temperature in the private room plummeted. I maintained my polite, even tone. “Valerie, during the initial phase, I needed raw market data. You told me you would coordinate with the vendors. I waited three days, only for you to tell me they ‘wouldn’t give you the time of day.’ I had to pull an all-nighter to scrape and rebuild that research from scratch.” She opened her mouth to argue, but I didn’t give her an inch. I shifted my gaze straight to Marcus. “Marcus. I hit a technical wall and came to you for advice. You patted my shoulder, said it was an easy fix, and promised to look at it later. That ‘later’ miraculously arrived the day after the deadline.” Marcus’s face turned a mottled red, his eyes darting away to stare at the tablecloth. I let my voice rise just a fraction, lacing it with ice and absolute disdain. “I carried this entire project on my back from day one. Where do you all find the nerve to stand here and demand an equal cut of my payout?” “Is it because you’re older? Because you have zero shame?” “Or is it just because you’re completely delusional?” 2 A sudden snort broke the silence. An intern sitting in the corner, who usually caught the worst of Valerie’s bullying, couldn’t hold back a laugh. Valerie’s hand shook violently as she pointed a manicured finger at me. It took her a full ten seconds to squeeze out a pathetic defense through gritted teeth. “Aria Kensington! How dare you slander me! When have I ever refused to help you!” “Whether it’s slander or the truth, you know exactly what you did.” I had zero interest in debating a liar. I grabbed my purse, stood up, and walked out the door. I assumed the storm had passed. But the next morning, the second I sat down at my cubicle, Valerie marched over and slammed a ridiculously long receipt down on my keyboard. “What the hell is your problem, Aria!” She planted her hands on her hips, her voice a screeching siren designed to turn every head in the office. “Fine, you’re too greedy to share the bonus! But you promised to pay for dinner, and you sneaked out like a rat! You humiliated all of us, and we had to split the check! Your character is absolute garbage!” I glanced down at the crumpled receipt. Unbelievable. Fifteen people managed to rack up an $8,000 bill. They had deliberately ordered the most expensive bottles of wine and premium seafood, fully intending to bleed me dry. I looked up at her, my expression blank. “When exactly did I ever say I was paying for that dinner?” Valerie blinked, clearly not expecting me to challenge the premise. She immediately doubled down on her twisted logic. “I posted it in the Slack channel! Everyone saw it! You didn’t object!” “So, you unilaterally make an announcement in a group chat, I ignore it, and that constitutes my legal consent?” I let out a short, mocking laugh. “By your flawless logic, if I post in the channel right now that Valerie is voluntarily donating her entire salary next year to the company retreat fund, you’ll just hand it over?” A few people in the neighboring cubicles let out muffled snickers. Valerie’s face flushed a deep, ugly crimson. She was losing her grip and she knew it. “You! Everyone went because we thought you were paying! You owe us this money! Who is ever going to trust you in this industry again if you don’t pay up!” I leaned back in my ergonomic chair, crossing my arms, completely unbothered. “Valerie, I didn’t take a single bite of food or sip of water the entire time I was there. Why on earth would I pay your tab?” I picked up my phone and unlocked the screen. “Do you want me to call the restaurant manager right now and pull the security footage? From the second I walked in to the second I left, I didn’t touch a single plate.” Her face went completely slack. She hadn’t anticipated I would go straight for the security cameras. “You… you’re talking crazy! How do we know you didn’t bribe the restaurant staff!” She was grasping at straws, her overbearing aura rapidly deflating. I looked at her like she was an absolute clown. “Bribe a high-end restaurant over an eight grand bill? You really think way too highly of yourself, and way too little of me.” “Whoever ordered the lobster, pays for the lobster.” I flicked the receipt right back at her chest. In the end, Valerie and her little clique of scavengers had to swallow that massive credit card charge themselves. During my lunch break, a friend from marketing sent me a direct message with a link. “Aria, your team is actually unhinged. Look at this.” I clicked the link. It took me straight to the company’s anonymous Blind forum. Sitting pretty at the top of the trending page was a thread titled: [EXPOSED: The New Girl in Operations Agreed to Treat the Team, Pulled a Runner, and Left Senior Staff with an $8,000 Bill!] The post was vicious. “A certain new hire named Aria got incredibly lucky and scored a massive project bonus. She offered to take the whole department out to celebrate. And what does she do? She sneaks out the back door when no one is looking!” “She left her mentors with an eight grand tab! The senior staff just had to bite the bullet and split it. Are all Gen Z hires this arrogant and selfish now? Does a toxic, anti-team player like this really belong in our corporate culture?” 3 Pinned right below the post was a cropped screenshot of the Slack chat. It showed Valerie’s message announcing I was paying, but conveniently cropped out the timestamp and the lack of my reply, making it look like an agreed-upon plan. The comment section was an absolute dumpster fire. “I know exactly who this is. Trash behavior!” “Lol, gets a little cash and thinks she’s better than the rest of us corporate slaves.” “HR needs to step in. People like this are a liability.” “Sending prayers to her team. Imagine dealing with a psycho like that daily.” The vitriol was pouring in by the second. I stared at the monitor, my face devoid of emotion, but a cold, sharp laugh echoed in my head. Valerie was hellbent on destroying my reputation. I placed my fingers on the keyboard, ready to nuke the thread with the truth, when a notification popped up. Greg, the department supervisor, wanted me in his office immediately. The second I closed the door, Greg frowned, skipping the pleasantries. “I saw the thread on Blind, Aria. I have to say, Valerie has been with this company for years. How could you humiliate her like that?” When I didn’t immediately apologize, he assumed I was intimidated. “Look, her execution might have been a bit flawed, but her intentions were good. She just wanted team harmony! You blowing it up like this and embarrassing everyone… how do you think that helps your career trajectory here?” I shot him a sideways glance, thoroughly unimpressed. “Greg, are you defending her so fiercely because she’s a valued senior employee? Or is it because… she’s your long-time mistress?” Greg’s face went deathly pale, then violently red. He slammed his hands on the desk and shot up from his chair, pointing a trembling finger at me. “Aria Kensington! What the hell is wrong with you! Watch your damn mouth!” “We both know I’m not lying.” If he wanted to play dirty, I was perfectly happy to rip off the bandaids. “If she wasn’t sleeping with you, do you really think someone with her abysmal metrics and zero talent would still be walking around this office acting like she owns the place?” “You… you lying bitch! I will fire you right now! Try me!” His chest was heaving. I had struck the exact nerve I aimed for. “Fire me?” I casually tapped my phone against the palm of my hand. “If corporate finds out about the little financial discrepancies you two have been cooking up, let’s see which one of us gets escorted out by security.” “You… you…” He choked on his words, completely paralyzed. He didn’t dare make a move. After all, I was the one who just secured a massive account for the company. Valerie watched me stroll out of the supervisor’s office completely unscathed. She practically ground her teeth into dust, glaring at me with pure, unfiltered venom. I ignored her and went straight back to my desk to finalize the project handover. The only thing left was to import the market data Valerie was responsible for, generate the final deck, and submit it to the client. I took a slow breath and walked over to her desk. “I need the market data for the final report. Send it over now. It has to be in the client’s inbox by six PM.” Valerie was leisurely applying luxury hand cream, not even bothering to look at me. “What’s the rush? This data is sensitive. I need to run it through another audit. If there’s a mistake, who’s going to take the fall?” I knew for a fact the data had been ready for days. She was just sitting on it. “How long is this audit going to take?” I asked, keeping my voice clipped. “Hard to say,” she purred, blowing softly on her manicured nails before flashing me a venomous fake smile. “Data is delicate work. You can’t rush perfection.” Looking at her smug, punchable face, I knew her game. She was going to drag this out to the absolute last second to make me sweat. I walked back to my desk and set a timer, asking her every single hour. “Still checking.” “Stop rushing me, it makes me prone to errors.” Right up until five PM, when people were already grabbing their coats to leave. I stood over her desk one last time. She looked up, feigning surprise. “Oh, look at my memory! Just finished it!” I forced down the urge to scream, grabbed the file, generated the report at lightning speed, and sprinted out the door to hand-deliver it to the client’s office. Despite practically flying through traffic, I was five minutes late. But, thankfully, it was done. Sitting in the back of my car on the way home, I dialed a private number straight to Corporate HQ. “Add Greg Dawson and Valerie to the termination list.” “Understood, Miss Kensington.” My father had warned me the culture at this branch was rotting from the inside out, which is why he sent me here undercover. Looks like I had just found the maggots. 4 The next morning, my driver, Cole, dropped me off in front of the office building. The moment my heels hit the pavement, Valerie and her little flock of followers swarmed out of nowhere, blocking the entrance. Valerie’s eyes were glued to the sleek black luxury sedan behind me, pure, unadulterated envy swimming in her gaze. She stepped aggressively into Cole’s line of sight, pointing a finger at me. “Hey, handsome! Don’t let this girl play you! She acts all innocent, but she is absolute poison!” Cole’s expression hardened into granite. I reached out and rested a hand on his forearm to keep him grounded. “Oh?” I raised an eyebrow. “Do tell. How exactly am I poison?” My calm reaction only fueled her manic energy. She practically vibrated with malicious glee. “I saw it with my own two eyes yesterday! You screwed up your timeline and missed the deadline for the client. You were running around the lobby of their building looking like a panicked rat. But suddenly, your project gets approved anyway! You suck at your job, but you sure know how to use your other assets!” She paused, making sure a crowd of morning commuters had stopped to listen, before turning the volume up to ten. “She was out on the sidewalk, practically grinding up against some old suit who looked old enough to be her father! They were so close it was disgusting! Next thing you know, the old guy takes her file and struts right into the executive elevator! Tell me, unless she’s selling herself, why would a senior executive at the client’s firm bail her out?!” Her sycophants swarmed in, feeding off the drama like parasites. “No wonder she got that massive bonus. She was putting in overtime on her knees!” “She dresses like a professional, but she’s just a cheap escort behind closed doors. You really can’t judge a book by its cover!” “Dude, seriously,” one of the guys sneered at Cole. “Watch your back. Don’t let her use you as a stepping stone. You’re probably just one of her many sugar daddies.” It was the peak of the morning rush. Dozens of coworkers from different departments had stopped to stare, whispering and pointing at me. If I were just a regular new hire, this kind of aggressive, public character assassination would have shattered my mental health. Instead, I looked at her with mild amusement. “Is that right? Do you have a single shred of proof?” Seeing that Cole hadn’t flinched or stepped away from me, Valerie’s voice hit a shrill, hysterical pitch. “Of course I do! I’ve got the smoking gun right here!” She triumphantly shoved her phone into the air. On the screen was a crisp, zoomed-in photo of me and my father standing outside the client’s building. I had been stressed out of my mind about the five-minute delay, and he had coincidentally been arriving for a meeting with their CEO. I never imagined this psycho had actually followed me and photographed us. “Look at this! The old creep has his hand right on her shoulder! Look at how she’s smiling at him! She looks ready to drop to her knees right there on the sidewalk!” Hearing her spew such vile filth about my father, my hands curled into tight fists. My voice cracked like a whip. “You have absolutely no idea who that man is, and you stand here spewing garbage out of your mouth!” Being shouted down in front of a crowd sent Valerie over the edge. Her face twisted into a mask of pure hatred. “I don’t need to know who he is! I know exactly what you are! You’re a manipulative, social-climbing little slut who used her body to steal my bonus!” Before I could blink, she violently swung her arm forward, hurling the contents of her travel mug straight at my face. A splash of scalding liquid hit my chest. Cole gasped sharply. The entire courtyard went dead silent. Cole reacted instantly, pulling a pristine handkerchief from his inside pocket and frantically dabbing at the dark coffee stains ruining my silk blouse. Looking down at the ruined fabric, a slow, freezing smile spread across my face. Without breaking eye contact with Valerie, I pulled out my phone and hit a speed dial number. I put it on speaker for the entire crowd to hear. “Get the legal team down to the branch lobby right now. I need immediate evidence collection for public defamation, harassment, and physical assault.” I paused, letting my words hang in the crisp morning air. “And call the regional director. Tell him if he can’t manage the animals in his building, I’ll dissolve his entire branch by noon.” Valerie’s hand remained frozen in mid-air, the empty travel mug slipping from her grip and clattering onto the concrete. The absolute certainty in my voice sent a violent shockwave through the crowd. The coworkers who were just laughing and pointing at me were now choking on their own breath. A terrifying thought crashed into Valerie’s mind: What if she really is… someone from Corporate? A suffocating wave of panic seized her chest. Just then, the sound of frantic, heavy footsteps echoed across the pavement. Everyone turned to see Greg, the department supervisor, sprinting toward us. His face was a ghastly shade of gray. Valerie’s eyes lit up with desperate hope. Surely Greg was coming to back her up. But Greg didn’t even notice the bizarre, frozen tableau in the courtyard. He locked eyes with me and immediately started screaming at the top of his lungs. “Aria! What the hell was in that final data report you sent to Carmichael yesterday?! It’s completely corrupted! Mr. Carmichael just called me personally and ripped my head off! Do you have any idea how many millions we are going to lose because of this?! How could you be so utterly incompetent?!” My eyes widened in genuine shock. That was the data file Valerie had hoarded until the final five minutes! I never had time to audit her numbers! Before I could even formulate a defense, the terror vanished from Valerie’s face. Greg’s screaming was a shot of pure adrenaline straight to her heart. Her spine snapped straight, her arrogant smirk returning in full force. “Ha!” she sneered, her voice dripping with venom. “And here I thought you were some big shot undercover! Turns out you’re just a useless piece of trash who can’t even handle basic spreadsheet entry!” She spun around, playing to the crowd of nervous onlookers. “Look at her, everyone! This is the girl who just tried to threaten us with lawyers! She talks a big game, but her actual work is so garbage she just pissed off our biggest client! She almost tanked our entire department! Corporate needs to fire this liability immediately!” She masterfully redirected all the heat right back onto me. Greg was completely blinded by his own panic. He didn’t even register Cole standing next to me like a bodyguard. He only cared about finding a scapegoat to survive Carmichael’s wrath. “Aria, what the hell do you have to say for yourself?!” Greg roared, his eyes bulging with rage. I looked at the two of them—the corrupt manager and his malicious mistress—and whatever shred of professional courtesy I had left evaporated into thin air. “You didn’t even trace the source data, but you instantly blame me?” I asked, my voice deadly calm. “Valerie intentionally withheld that file until five minutes before the deadline, knowing I wouldn’t have time to verify her numbers. A mid-level associate doesn’t have the guts to pull a stunt like that alone. Tell me, Greg, did you two plan this together? Sabotage the account just to frame me?” Greg’s face twitched violently. “You paranoid bitch! Don’t drag us into your mess just because you’re incompetent!” Valerie didn’t give anyone time to process my accusation. She immediately lunged for the kill, her eyes burning with greed. “Stop wasting breath on her, Greg! The client is furious, we might lose the contract entirely! Someone who ruins an account doesn’t deserve a three-hundred-thousand-dollar bonus! That money needs to be seized and returned to the company to cover the damages!” It always came back to the money. To satisfy their own petty, pathetic greed, they were willing to nuke a multi-million dollar account and destroy months of work from the entire department. A white-hot rage ignited in my chest. I opened my mouth, ready to strip away the facade and annihilate them both with my real title. But suddenly, Valerie gasped dramatically. Her eyes bulged as she pointed a trembling finger at my chest. “Oh my god! Everyone, look! Look at her neck!” Instantly, fifty pairs of eyes snapped to my collarbone. Resting against my skin, partially hidden by the coffee-stained silk, was a delicate, blindingly brilliant diamond necklace. The morning sun caught the central stone, scattering fractures of intense light. “That… that’s a limited-edition piece from House of V! I saw it in Vogue last month!” a girl from marketing gasped, her voice thick with jealousy. “It’s a global exclusive! It costs at least three hundred thousand dollars!” That number hit the crowd like a bomb. “She has the audacity to wear a piece like that?!” “She just cost the company millions, and she’s parading around in a necklace worth a house?!” “Holy hell, where did she get the money? Don’t tell me she blew the entire project bonus on jewelry?!”

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1 At my eighteenth birthday party, Mom gifted her adopted daughter twenty percent of the company’s shares. I, on the other hand, received nothing but a cheap, laminated Model Daughter certificate. My eyes stung, and the lump in my throat made it hard to breathe. I couldn’t help but look at my mother and ask, “Mom, is this stock transfer agreement actually real?” But in the next second, right in front of all the high-society guests, my mother lashed out at me. “Marsha, you are my biological daughter. You need to keep your distance so people don’t whisper about favoritism!” Then, the glowing comments drifted across my vision again. [If the FL just swallows her pride and apologizes, her mom will hand over thirty percent of the shares instantly! The contract is already signed and waiting!] [Don’t be so stubborn, baby! Just give her a sweet smile and call her Mom. She would give you her whole heart if you just asked.] [Ugh, I live for the daughter-pleasing-mother trope. It is a total mutual-healing vibe!] Mom had always been like this, playing hard to get, desperate for my submission on the inside. And every time before, I had followed the comments’ advice to appease her. But now, I was done playing the eager-to-please puppet. I looked at my mother, whose eyes held a flicker of expectation, and said quietly, “Understood, Ms. Eikenberry. From now on, you only have one daughter, and her name is Lexi.” Mom froze, completely blindsided by my response. A collective gasp rippled through the ballroom as the guests began whispering furiously among themselves. “What is wrong with Marsha tonight? Did she lose her mind?” “How could she say something so heartless to Ms. Eikenberry? Her mother must be devastated.” Whether my mother was devastated or not, I did not care. I only knew that over the years, my own heart had been shattered into a million pieces. Mom always did this, hiding behind the excuse of fairness. “Marsha, you are my biological daughter. I cannot just hand you everything on a silver platter.” “Lexi is adopted. I have to show her extra care so she feels like she belongs.” When I first heard those words years ago, they felt like a knife to the chest. But then, the black text of the floating comments began to appear before my eyes. I followed their instructions, swallowing my pride and begging for her affection, and she would always reward me with exactly what I wanted. That was when it clicked. Mom did not actually hate me; she just wanted to break me. She wanted me to crawl, to beg, to play the submissive, grateful daughter. But I was exhausted. I was done playing her sick little game of emotional leverage. The comments flashed across my screen again. [What is wrong with the FL today? Why isn’t she kissing up to her mom?] [FL, go apologize right now! You can’t just bully your mother like this!] [Seeing the hurt on the mom’s face is making me tear up. Poor mom.] Reading the words, I instinctively looked up at the stage. Sure enough, Mom’s eyes were rimmed with red. Catching my gaze, she forced down her vulnerability and glared at me with icy resolve. “Marsha, what is the meaning of this? Are you cutting ties with me?” Before I could answer, Lexi glided over to my side. She looked stunning in her designer ballgown, the diamond necklace around her neck catching the crystal chandeliers’ light and glittering brilliantly. Yet, just a week ago, on my own eighteenth birthday, I wore a faded t-shirt and jeans. We had a simple, quiet dinner at home. “Marsha, Mom has money, but we shouldn’t be wasteful,” Lexi had whispered to me then. “Just the family celebrating is enough.” Except it was not a celebration for me at all. The dining table had been packed with Lexi’s favorite dishes. At the time, I thought Lexi was not getting a party either, so I kept my mouth shut. It was not until last night, when I accidentally found Lexi’s custom-made gown in her closet, that I realized Mom was planning a lavish, high-society debutante ball just for her. Lexi’s sweet, mocking voice brought me back to reality. “Marsha, please don’t break Mom’s heart. You are her real daughter!” “If you are upset about the shares, I can give them to you. I don’t mind giving them up.” Give them to me? A cold laugh escaped my lips. I was the biological daughter, yet I had to rely on the charity of an adopted sister. But Lexi was not lying. Everything I had ever received from Mom, through my tearful apologies and desperate pleading, had indeed been handed down after Lexi had her fill. The comments flared up again. [Lexi baby, that’s a gift from your mother. Do not give it away!] [The FL just needs to admit she’s wrong, and her mom will forgive her instantly.] [Apologize already! We are all waiting for the mother-daughter reconciliation arc!] I forced myself to ignore the text. Without glancing at Lexi, I turned on my heel and walked toward the exit. “Marsha Eikenberry! If you take one step out of this room, I will wash my hands of you!” I paused. I could hear the collective sigh of relief from the crowd. Turning my head back slightly, I saw the tension hidden beneath my mother’s mask of fury. Just as the comments said, she did care about me in her own twisted way. But I refused to play her game any longer. I looked at Lexi and offered a polite, empty smile. “Congratulations. You are now the only child of the Eikenberry family.” Then, I walked out without looking back. On the cab ride home, the comments kept spamming my vision. [Oh honey, you are breaking your mother’s heart!] [When you get home, plan a sweet surprise for her. Tell her it was all a joke and say you’re sorry. You have to apologize!] [FL, you can’t just rebel like this. I hate this kind of plot development!] They were just lines of floating text, but the sheer volume of them made my head throb. I closed my eyes, trying to block out the noise. This time, I was going to live for myself. But when I unlocked the front door, I was shocked to find Mom already waiting in the living room. The comments immediately flared up. [Look how much her mom cares. Her own daughter treated her like that, and her heart is bleeding.] [Hurry up and run into her arms, FL!] My resolve wavered. If she offered even a shred of warmth, a single word to ask me to stay, I knew I would break. I opened my mouth to speak, but Lexi came bouncing down the stairs. She shot me a smug, triumphant look, but when she turned to Mom, her voice was timid and trembling. “Mom… are you sure you want me to supervise Marsha?” Supervise? Before I could process the word, Mom’s voice, devoid of any warmth, cut through the air. “Yes. Keep a close eye on her.” “Since she wants to sever ties, let’s make it official.” “Watch her pack. She is only allowed to take her personal belongings. Nothing else.” The harsh reality slapped me in the face, freezing the warmth that had briefly flickered in my chest. Yet, the comments were still making excuses for her. [Apologize now! Your mom is just talking out of anger!] [You are her biological daughter. If you just soften your tone, she will forgive you in a heartbeat!] But being her biological daughter had never brought me peace, only a lifetime of silent suffering. I looked up, my gaze cold and dead. “I won’t take anything that belongs to the Eikenberrys.” Ignoring her burning gaze, I walked straight to my room. I pulled open my closet. Inside were rows of cheap, plain white t-shirts and worn-out jeans. Lexi’s mocking voice drifted from the doorway. “Marsha, look at this trash. I guess you really can only take these rags.” “You bought them with the pennies you earned from your embarrassing little jobs anyway. Leaving them here would just ruin the vibe of my house.” My hands paused over a folded shirt. She was not wrong. Ever since I was five years old, if I wanted something, I had to earn the money myself. Two dollars for dusting, three for sweeping, five for doing the laundry… Even though we had a full-time housekeeper, I did most of the chores. Once, our housekeeper took pity on me and washed my clothes for me. When Mom found out, she fired her on the spot. I had begged and cried for the woman, but Mom remained unmoved. “Marsha, you do your own work. This is the price of trying to take the easy way out and letting others do your job!” Lexi had stood in the corner back then, giggling quietly while sweetly telling Mom not to ruin her mood over me. Pushing the memories aside, I stuffed my clothes into my suitcase. As I zipped it up, I noticed Mom standing at the doorway, watching me silently. Lexi stepped forward, blocking my path. “Wait, Marsha. Mom bought that suitcase. You can’t take it.” I stared at my mother in disbelief, but she simply nodded. “Do what Lexi says.” My heart turned to ash. I dumped my clothes onto the floor, pulled a bedsheet off my bed, wrapped them up in a crude bundle, and slung it over my shoulder. As I walked out, I heard Mom dialing her phone behind me. “Cancel Marsha’s credit cards. And transfer her university exchange spot to Lexi!” I froze, a sharp pain piercing my chest. The money in my account was earned from my own part-time jobs. The university exchange program was a merit-based spot I had spent months studying to secure. Yet, with one phone call, Mom gave it all to Lexi. Behind me, Lexi cooed, “Mom, is Marsha really leaving us for good?” Mom let out a cold, dismissive laugh. “She’ll be back in a few days begging for mercy. Without the Eikenberry name, she is absolutely nothing.” But Mom was wrong. I had already secured a fully funded scholarship for an international exchange program. My flight was in three days. It wasn’t until I checked into a cheap motel that I finally let out a breath. My cards were frozen, but I had enough cash from my tutoring jobs to survive for three days. Once I settled in, I called the international admissions office. “Hello, I just wanted to confirm… the exchange program covers full tuition and provides a monthly living stipend, correct?” When the officer on the other end confirmed, the heavy weight on my chest lifted. I was finally going to escape this suffocating cage. But the comments were furious. [FL, how can you just run away to Europe like this? Go back and apologize to your mother tomorrow!] [Don’t be so selfish! Your mother is crying her eyes out at home, and here you are celebrating your escape!] [They say daughters are their mothers’ sweet little angels, but you are just a cold-hearted brat.] Ignoring the text, I opened my phone and scrolled through social media. The very first post was from Lexi. [First day as an only child! Candlelight dinner with Mom~] The attached photo showed Lexi and Mom smiling brightly, sharing steak and raising glasses of champagne. A bitter laugh escaped me. So this was the crying her eyes out the comments were talking about. I went to close the app, but my finger slipped, and I accidentally liked the post. When I refreshed a second later, Lexi’s post was gone. I knew her games. It was just another petty attempt to rub my nose in it. But the comments immediately defended her. [Lexi is so sweet. She just wanted to show FL that she and Mom are doing fine, but did you see Mom’s swollen eyes? She’s clearly been crying.] [The FL is way too much this time. She broke her mother’s heart, and honestly, she is breaking ours too!] I closed my eyes. No matter what they said, my mind was made up. The next morning, a headline caught my attention. Mom had used her official public relations account to announce that Lexi was now the sole heir and only daughter of the Eikenberry family. My throat tightened, and I blinked back tears. Suddenly, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Mom. [Marsha, if you come home and beg for my forgiveness, I might consider letting you back into this family.] She had no idea that I no longer cared about being a Eikenberry. For three days, I stayed in my room, ignoring the constant stream of nagging comments. When I was at home, I couldn’t even sleep without worrying about how to make Mom happy. Now, for the first time in my life, I felt peace. I packed my clothes into a cheap new suitcase I bought down the street and went to hand over my room key at the front desk. But when I opened the door, Mom was standing there, her face contorted with rage. Behind her stood a sniffling Lexi. Before I could move, Lexi lunged forward and grabbed my arm, her sharp acrylic nails digging deep into my skin. Mom took a step forward, her eyes instinctively darting to my bleeding arm, but she stopped herself. She was waiting for me to break. “Marsha, please give me back my diamond necklace!” Lexi sobbed. “I’d give you anything else, but that was my eighteenth birthday gift from Mom. You can’t take it!” Her grip tightened. Unable to bear the pain, I wrenched my arm away. Lexi collapsed to the floor with a dramatic cry. Mom immediately rushed to her side. “Lexi! Are you okay? Did she hurt you?” Lexi shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “I’m fine, Mom. As long as Marsha gives the necklace back, a little pain doesn’t matter.” Glancing at the blood dripping from my arm, I said coldly, “I don’t have your necklace, Lexi.” Before I could finish, Mom snapped. “Stop lying, Marsha! Lexi only took that necklace off in your room, and now it’s gone! You stole it!” Her words felt like a physical blow. I thought I had grown numb, but why did it still hurt so much? “I didn’t steal it,” I said quietly. “Maybe she misplaced it.” My refusal to back down pushed Mom over the edge. “Search the room! Find that necklace!” Six bodyguards stepped out from behind her. Before I could react, they barged into my room. Panic surged through me. “What are you doing? This is illegal!” Mom sneered. “Illegal? I’m your mother! You are only acting defensive because you are guilty.” I stared at her in shock. “I didn’t do it! I’m not a thief!” The comments floated by. [Her mom is going to extreme lengths just to get her to apologize.] [Yeah, her mom knows Lexi hid the necklace herself. She just used it as an excuse to see her daughter.] [I hope FL realizes her mother’s hidden love soon so they can make up.] The words froze in my throat. So Mom knew. She knew Lexi was lying, yet she still came here to humiliate and break me. She just wanted to force me to my knees. But I wouldn’t admit to something I didn’t do. “Mom…” Lexi whimpered. Mom waved her hand dismissively. “Hold Marsha down. Search everything!” Two large men grabbed my arms, pinning me to the wall. One of them squeezed right over my bleeding cut, and a sharp gasp escaped my lips. Mom’s eyes flickered with a brief flash of worry. Lexi noticed and immediately chimed in, “Mom, I was just so desperate to find the necklace. I didn’t mean to hurt her.” Mom patted Lexi’s head gently. “It’s fine. She brought this on herself by stealing. She deserves to be punished.” I felt completely hollow. She knew the truth, yet she chose to frame me. The comments kept chanting: [Look at her mom’s face, her heart is breaking, but she has to stay strong to teach her a lesson.] [FL, do you even know what a mother’s love is? She only does this because she loves you so much!] Love? I wanted to laugh. No real mother destroys her child in the name of love. My arm throbbed, but it was nothing compared to the agony in my chest. The bodyguards ripped my suitcase open, tearing my cheap clothes and scattering my underwear across the floor. The humiliation was suffocating. I closed my eyes, praying for it to end. But they found nothing. Suddenly, Mom’s phone rang. “You found it? Fine. Got it.” Lexi let go of her act, and the bodyguards released me. My knees buckled, and I slid to the floor, exhausted. Lexi ran to Mom’s side. “Mom, did they find my necklace?” Mom nodded. “Yes. Back at the house.” Lexi looked at me, then looked down. “I’m sorry, Mom. I was just so worried, I ended up hurting Marsha.” But Mom excused her instantly. “It’s fine. She has a tongue, but she refused to explain herself. It’s her own fault.” Then, Mom turned to the guards. “Bring her back to the estate.” “What? No! I have a—” Mom’s icy gaze cut me off. “If you won’t admit your mistakes, I’ll have to teach you a lesson you won’t forget.” She knew I was innocent, yet she was still going to lock me up. They dragged me to the basement of the estate, throwing me into the windowless storage room. Panic instantly clawed at my throat. When I was a child, whenever I made a mistake, I was thrown in here. Over time, I developed severe claustrophobia. In the pitch black, my mind would fracture, leaving me paralyzed with terror. Eventually, I learned to play the perfect, obedient daughter just to avoid this room. I curled into a ball in the corner, shaking violently. The comments kept scrolling. [Her mom just wants to hear her say sorry. Stop being so stubborn, FL!] [Your mom loves you the most. You have to understand her tough love.] I couldn’t even process the text through the tears. Then, the heavy bolt on the door slid back. Lexi’s smirking face appeared in the crack of light. “Feeling lonely, Marsha? Don’t worry, I brought some friends to keep you company.” She threw something heavy onto the floor and slammed the door shut, locking it. A dry, hissing sound echoed through the darkness. Lexi had thrown snakes into the room. My scream died in my throat as absolute terror took over, and my world went black. When I finally woke up, the door was wide open, and the snakes were gone. From upstairs, I could hear Mom and Lexi’s voices. “Mom, what about Marsha?” “Leave her. Let’s go buy you those new dresses you wanted.” Once the front door slammed shut, I dragged my trembling body toward my phone, which had fallen out of my pocket. With shaking fingers, I dialed the only number that could save me. “Hello… is there any way the university can send someone to pick me up?”

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While fixing my bowtie before the engagement banquet, Michelle led in a broke junior. “Martin spilled something. Let him borrow your custom tux,” she said flatly. “You’re the star anyway; it doesn’t matter what you wear.” Beside the nervous boy in faded sneakers, my best friend James blocked them. “Are you kidding? Declan went to thirty tailors for that!” Michelle shot me the look. For five years, I caved every time. I pushed James aside, setting down my cufflinks. “Let him wear it.” She smiled, caressing my cheek. “I knew you were the bigger person. For our wedding, I’ll buy you the most expensive suit in the world.” Martin changed into my tux. Michelle smoothed his lapel, whispering, “You look so handsome, Ro.” I recognized the gesture. During our photoshoot, she’d refused to do the same for me, calling it cheesy. I slid the platinum engagement ring off my finger. This time, I was done being the bigger person. … “Who is this handsome young man? Look at how sharp he is dressed!” Michelle’s aunt was standing by the adjacent table, grabbing Martin’s hands and looking him up and down with obvious approval. Martin kept his head bowed, but a small, satisfied smile crept onto his lips. Before he could even respond, Michelle seamlessly jumped into the conversation. “He is a junior from my university. His family’s financial situation isn’t great, and his clothes got ruined. Declan felt so bad for him that he offered his own custom tux.” Her aunt nodded approvingly, then shot a highly critical glance in my direction. “Then why is Declan dressed like that? It is his engagement party. He looks incredibly plain.” “Oh, he doesn’t care about these superficial things.” Michelle answered for me without missing a beat, naturally reaching out to link her arm through mine. “Our Declan is incredibly generous.” As her hand reached out, I casually took a half-step to the side. Her hand grabbed empty air. “What is wrong?” she asked, her brow furrowing. I looked down at the carpet. “Nothing.” James grabbed me by the forearm and physically dragged me away, pulling me around the corner into a quiet hallway. “Are you seriously just going to let this happen?!” “What else am I supposed to do?” “You walk right back out there and announce to the entire room that he is wearing your clothes, and that kid is not her fiancé. You are!” I looked at his bloodshot, furious eyes. “James. You are angrier than I am.” “Of course I am angry!” James’s voice cracked. “Do you have any idea what the people at her table are whispering about?” He pulled out his phone and opened a video. It was filmed by one of Michelle’s college friends. In the frame, Martin was wearing my custom tuxedo, standing proudly on Michelle’s right side. Her hand was resting affectionately on his shoulder. Someone off-camera cheered, “The fiancé looks amazing!” Martin looked down, his cheeks flushing deep red. He didn’t deny it. Michelle didn’t deny it either. She just laughed brightly and waved her hand dismissively. There was a top comment under the video: Michelle’s fiancé is so sweet and innocent. It had over thirty likes. Not a single person corrected them. I swallowed the bitter taste in the back of my throat, closed the video, and handed the phone back to James. A fresh wave of loud laughter erupted from the banquet hall. People were dragging Martin around to toast the tables. He handled it perfectly, holding his champagne glass low and leaning in respectfully. I taught him that posture. Last month, he told me he was terrified of attending his first formal networking event. He asked me how to properly toast executives. I spent an entire afternoon practicing with him. “Call me an Uber, James.” “You are not going back in?” “There is nothing left to go back to.” I walked over to the welcome table near the entrance. I placed the platinum engagement ring right next to the leather guestbook. There was a thin layer of dust on the table. The heavy ring landed with a soft, hollow clink. My phone lit up. It was an Instagram post from Michelle. Thank you everyone for coming tonight. She attached three photos. One wide shot of the grand ballroom, one of her clinking glasses with her girlfriends, and the last one… Martin, wearing my tailored tuxedo, smiling radiantly at the camera. She tagged Martin. The caption read: Thank you, Ro, for helping me entertain the guests. You worked so hard tonight. There was not a single mention of me in the entire post. Not even my name. I locked my screen. When I crossed the street, the massive chandeliers in the banquet hall were still glowing brightly. Even from this far away, I could still hear the faint bass of the music and the muffled laughter. Right before I got into the Uber, I looked back one last time. Michelle was standing on the grand marble steps of the hotel, looking down at her phone. Martin walked up behind her and gently draped a suit jacket over her bare shoulders. She reached up and naturally pulled the collar tighter around herself. It looked completely effortless. “Declan, you left your ring on the welcome table.” At two in the morning, Michelle finally called. Her voice was totally relaxed, completely unbothered. “I know.” “Well, I put it in my purse for safekeeping. I will put it back on you tomorrow.” She paused, intentionally softening her tone. “I know you felt a little slighted today. But Martin ruining his clothes was a total accident. Everyone saw how generous you were to lend him your suit.” “Michelle. Let’s break up.” The line went completely dead for three full seconds. Then, she actually laughed. “Declan, I know you were annoyed today, but throwing a tantrum and bringing up a breakup? Really?” “I am completely serious.” “You do this every single time you throw a fit.” She lowered her voice, using the practiced, patient tone of someone talking to a toddler. “Alright, fine. When you are done pouting, call me, and I will come see you.” “Michelle…” “Declan, behave. Tomorrow I will take you to that omakase place you have been wanting to try.” I didn’t say anything else. After a few seconds of silence, her tone dropped, turning cold. “Declan, it has been five years. When have you ever actually had the guts to leave me?” She said it so quietly, but I didn’t have an answer. She genuinely did not believe it. She did not believe I could ever walk away. I hung up. James walked out of the kitchen with a glass of water and sat heavily across from me. “What did she say?” “She said she will come see me.” “Are you going to see her?” “No.” He looked like he wanted to scream at me, but checking my expression, he swallowed his words. I stared at the black screen of my phone. Her name was at the very top of my call log. The contact name was still the one I saved five years ago: “Michelle” with a little sun emoji next to it. We had just started dating. She waited for me outside my dorm building, clutching a warm water bottle against her chest. The November wind was brutal, and her cheeks were flushed a deep, beautiful pink. She told me my roommate mentioned my hands always cracked and bled in the winter, and that I just powered through it while drawing architectural drafts late at night. I told her not to bother, that guys didn’t use cute little water bottles. It was embarrassing. She just laughed, shoved the warm bottle into my hands, and wrapped her fingers over my freezing ones. When you are with me, you do not have to pretend to be tough. If you are cold or exhausted, you tell me. Her eyes were so bright back then. Just looking at her made me feel incredibly safe. James suddenly broke the silence. “Do you even remember when she started changing?” I thought about it for a long time. “I don’t remember.” Maybe it was the first time Martin showed up, crying that he couldn’t afford his tuition. Maybe it was the very first time she told me to “just be the bigger person.” The change was a slow poison. She took away just a tiny fraction of her love every single day. By the time I finally turned around to look, there was absolutely nothing left. James pulled a blanket off the couch and tossed it over me. “Do not go back to that apartment. Just crash here.” “Yeah.” At 3:00 AM, my phone lit up with another call from her. The screen glowed for three seconds before going dark. She didn’t try calling back. Because in her reality, my tantrums only lasted one night. Once the sun came up, I would quietly pack my pride and go back home. Just like I had every single time before. I manually swiped away the missed call notification. For the first time in five years. “James, get out of the way and let me in.” Late the next afternoon, Michelle was standing outside James’s front door, holding a white bakery bag. James stood dead center in the doorway, blocking her path. “He does not want to see you.” “I know he is throwing a fit.” She offered a casual, dismissive smile. “Just let me in so I can say two sentences to him, and then I will leave.” “Say what? Explain why you couldn’t even bother to put his name in your Instagram post?” Michelle’s smile vanished instantly. “James, this is between Declan and me.” “Don’t call him Declan like you own him. He is Mr. Wright to you.” I walked up to the door and put a hand on James’s arm, pressing it down. “James, let her in. I will talk to her face to face.” James stepped aside, glaring daggers at her, looking her up and down with absolute disgust. She slipped off her shoes, walked inside, and placed the white paper bag on the coffee table. It was a slice of cake. “Your favorite tiramisu. I didn’t get a chance to give it to you yesterday.” I didn’t even touch the box. She sat down on the armchair across from me. “Declan, what exactly do you want me to do?” “I already told you. We are done.” Her eyebrows pulled together in deep frustration. “You are breaking off an engagement over a rented tuxedo?” “It is not about the tuxedo.” “Then what is it about?” She crossed her legs and leaned forward, clasping her hands together. It was the exact same posture she took every time we argued. She was treating me like a patient, tolerating my outburst until I ran out of breath. “Last year on my birthday, I booked a reservation at a Michelin-star restaurant two months in advance. Right as we were leaving, Martin called. He said his stomach hurt. You drove straight to his apartment.” “He was completely alone. What if it was appendicitis?” “When you got there, you realized he just ate too much takeout. And then you sat on his couch and watched movies with him until midnight. I sat alone in that restaurant until they turned the lights off.” She hesitated for a split second. “Didn’t I apologize for that? I even bought you that designer watch to make up for it.” “You bought him the exact same watch, didn’t you?” “He was going through a really depressive episode at the time…” “He is always going through a depressive episode.” My voice dropped lower, steady and completely hollow. “When is he ever actually happy?” Michelle fell completely silent. “Last month, I had a massive business trip. You told me to take an Uber to the airport because you had to drive Martin to his campus orientation.” She opened her mouth defensively. “He had four massive suitcases…” “You gave him our winter quilt. The one my mother shipped to us from our hometown.” “That old thing was practically falling apart. I told you I would buy you a brand new silk one.” “That was mine! My mother wore her reading glasses and hand-stitched that quilt for an entire week. When she mailed it, she wrapped it in three layers of industrial plastic so the post office wouldn’t damage the threading!” The living room went dead silent. James was standing by the kitchen island, his knuckles completely white from gripping the marble counter. I didn’t say another word. In the past, I would have chased her with questions. I would have cried and asked her why she was doing this to me. And the second she said, “I am sorry,” I would have forgiven her instantly. But this time, I was just completely and utterly exhausted. “Declan,” Michelle said, her voice dropping into a tone of profound, subtle disappointment. “I always thought you were different from the rest of them.” “Them?” “People who hold grudges over petty, meaningless things.” She frowned, looking at me with dead seriousness. “I thought you understood me. Martin has absolutely no one in this world to rely on. You have me. You have a loving family. You have money. You don’t lack anything… So I took care of him a little bit. Is that really a crime?” She spoke with absolute sincerity. She genuinely believed every single word coming out of her mouth. “You have everything in the world. Can you not just show a little grace to someone who has absolutely nothing?” I stared at her. I stared at her for a very long time. There was actual anticipation in her eyes. She was waiting for me to nod and say, “You are right,” just like I always did. But of all the things I supposedly had in this world, one of them was supposed to be Michelle. She was systematically packing up every piece of her love and moving it into another man’s life, and then she had the nerve to ask me why I felt empty. “You are right, Michelle. I have everything.” She let out a visible sigh of relief. “Which means I do not need you either.” The relief vanished from her face instantly. “Declan.” “You never used to be this cruel.” I didn’t answer. She stood up abruptly, grabbed her purse, pulled the front door open, and marched out. My eyes drifted down to the white bakery box on the table. Tiramisu. She had already forgotten. I stopped eating tiramisu a year ago. [Billing Point] The tailored suit in the mirror looked flawless. My mother stood behind me, gently adjusting the bowtie. The wrinkles around her eyes deepened as she smiled warmly. “When is Michelle getting here? I haven’t seen that girl in half a year.” I glanced down at my phone screen. Michelle had texted me ten minutes ago. Martin lost the data for his graduation thesis. He is having a panic attack in his professor’s office. I have to go handle it. Just try the suit on yourself. Explain the situation to your mom. She always loved me; I know she will understand. I booked a reservation at her favorite seafood place tonight to make it up to her. My mother just had minimally invasive heart surgery last month. I hadn’t told her anything about what was happening with Michelle. I locked my screen and turned around, forcing a bright smile. “Mom, her firm called an emergency board meeting. She can’t make it.” My mother paused for a second, then patted my hand affectionately. “Her career comes first! It is a good thing for a young woman to be ambitious. You look incredibly handsome anyway. Come on, let Mom take a few pictures.” Click. In the photo, I was wearing a perfectly tailored suit, smiling for the camera, but there was absolutely no light left in my eyes. After I put my mother on the high-speed train back to our hometown, I drove straight to James’s apartment. Sitting on his couch, I dialed the wedding planner. “Hello. The reservation I made for the Crystal Lake Chapel. Cancel it.” The line went quiet for a moment. “Mr. Wright, that venue has an eight-month waiting list. The thirty-thousand-dollar deposit is strictly non-refundable. Are you absolutely certain?” “I am certain.” “But you drove out there over a dozen times. You checked every single detail. Our lead designer said she had never seen a groom put so much heart into…” “Just cancel it. Thank you.” I hung up the phone. James was sitting on the other end of the couch. “You are really doing this?” “Yeah.” That chapel was thirty miles outside the city limits. There was no subway access. You had to take two separate buses and hike for twenty minutes to get there. I chose it because it was built right on the edge of a massive, pristine lake. Five years ago, on our very first road trip, we found that lake. I spent an entire afternoon taking photos of her by the water. That day, she was the happiest I had ever seen her. She threw her arms around my neck and whispered that this lake was our secret sanctuary. I spent months fighting with the designers over the venue blueprints. I chose white magnolias for the centerpieces because her mother loved elegant, minimalist flowers. The string quartet was instructed to play the exact instrumental track that was playing in the coffee shop on our first date. I hand-drew the seating chart. I color-coded it. Pink ink for her guests, blue ink for mine. I purposefully placed her college roommate, who had a severe phobia of heights, at a window seat on the ground floor. Michelle never asked about a single one of these details. Not once. “Declan, if you need to cry, just cry. I am not going to judge you,” James said quietly. I shook my head. I ran out of tears a long time ago. … When Michelle finally called James, he was at his office grinding through architectural drafts. “Declan’s phone is turned off. Pass a message to him for me.” James slowly put his pen down. “What is it?” “Martin is taking his graduation photos next month. He wants a unique backdrop.” Her tone was incredibly casual, like she was asking him to pick up milk from the grocery store. “I suddenly remembered the chapel Declan booked. The lake view is gorgeous. Tell him to call the venue and let Martin borrow the grounds for the afternoon.” James gripped his phone, his knuckles turning stark white. “Michelle.” “That venue is already canceled.”

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