Category: English

1 During my year-long overseas posting, my husband and son cried on the phone every day, telling me how much they missed me. Ross insisted on scheduled video calls just to get through his workday, and my little boy, Toby, refused to go to sleep unless I sang to him over a cross-ocean call. Then came the day I got distracted during one of those calls and fell into a storm drain. Instead of clinging to me, they suddenly became the ones comforting me. “Honey, focus on your work. It is only a year, and I can wait.” “Mommy, I will be a good boy. I can sleep on my own now.” I pushed myself to the limit, optimizing my workflow to finish a twelve-month assignment two months ahead of schedule. But by then, they hadn’t contacted me in over two weeks. I caught a red-eye flight back home and went straight to Toby’s school essay competition. As I reached the auditorium door, my son’s sweet, high-pitched voice echoed through the speakers. “The title of my essay is, I Love My Mommy.” My heart warmed as I leaned in, eagerly waiting to hear the rest. “My Mommy Tina is a superhero.” To the crowd’s roaring applause, my husband walked onto the stage, his arm wrapped tightly around a woman. The three of them stood close, thanking the audience together. And I froze. The “Mommy Tina” Toby loved, the woman in my husband’s arms, was my best friend. Ross spotted me and froze for a fraction of a second. He tapped his phone quickly. A second later, my phone buzzed in my hand. One text on the screen read, Don’t make a scene. I will explain when we get home. I took a deep breath and sat down in the nearest empty seat. Ross gently rested his left hand on Tina’s shoulder while holding Toby’s hand with his right, sitting directly in front of me. They looked like the perfect family. The whispers of the other parents drifted into my ears. “What a beautiful family. Even with how busy he is, he still makes time to support his kid.” “I know. Remember the school field trip? He was so sweet to his wife. I was so jealous.” “And the parent-teacher conferences. Most kids only have one parent show up, but Toby always has both. He must be so happy.” “I’m used to it by now. They’re always together at every school event.” Ross seemed oblivious to the chatter, whispering softly into Tina’s ear. A sharp, suffocating ache bloomed in my chest. I wanted to scream, to tell them that I was Ross’s wife, that I was Toby’s mother. But the words died in my throat. By the time the event ended and we got home, dusk was falling. Tina made herself comfortable on the far end of our sofa. “Wendy, please don’t get the wrong idea. I only went for Toby’s sake. He said all his friends had both parents there. He felt so left out being the only one with just a dad.” I glanced at Tina’s left ring finger. The ring she wore was identical to mine. Our wedding band. “Does a simple school competition require a matching wedding band?” Ross sat beside me, rubbing my back gently. “We just had to make it believable. If we slipped up, think of what the other parents and kids would say about Toby behind his back. Wendy, you’ve been away too long. You don’t know how cruel schoolyard gossip can be.” I wanted to argue, but I couldn’t. I remembered a school sports day before I left. I had been held up by an emergency meeting. When I finally got home, Toby was curled up on the couch, sobbing. He eventually confessed that his classmates mocked him for having a mother who was never there. I realized then how much pain he had hidden just to keep me from worrying. Tina slid the ring off and tossed it casually onto the coffee table. “Look, don’t be mad. Now that you’re back, you can take over his school events, and I can step back.” Suddenly, Toby ran down the stairs, tears streaming down his face. “You always put work first! My classmates always laughed at me! You never pick me up from school, so I asked Auntie Tina to play the part!” My chest tightened, a burning sensation stinging my eyes. Ross frowned, his voice sharp. “Toby, apologize now!” My son walked up to me, his face red from crying. “I’m sorry, Mommy. But Daddy and Auntie Tina are just friends. They did it for me. Please don’t be mad at them.” Seeing how earnest my son was, my resolve softened. Ross and Tina were people I had loved and trusted for a decade. They always kept their distance around each other, sitting on opposite ends of the couch. They hadn’t even had each other’s contact info until I insisted before leaving the country. Maybe I really was overthinking this. I took a deep breath, smiled, and opened my arms. “I’m sorry, sweetie. Mommy promises she won’t break her word again, okay?” But Toby didn’t run to me like he used to. He hesitated, looking at Tina as if seeking permission. My chest tightened. Tina looked away, a flicker of awkwardness in her eyes. Ross gave Toby a small nod, and only then did my son step forward to hug me. My warmth began to turn cold. Before bed, Toby brought out his piggy bank. “Mommy, here’s all my money. Three thousand five hundred and forty-six dollars.” I remembered how long he’d saved this money for something special. He climbed into my lap with a grin. “I want to buy a gift.” I smiled, assuming he remembered my upcoming birthday. Then he added, “Auntie Tina’s birthday is in a few days. Can you help me buy her the big fireworks display?” My smile froze. “Toby, if Mommy had to go work abroad again, would you want to come with me?” He buried his face in his pillow. “No. Daddy and Auntie Tina are here. I like it here.” I let out a quiet, bitter laugh. Just as I stepped out of Toby’s bedroom, my phone buzzed. It was an email from my contact in London. The message said, Wendy, get your onboarding paperwork sorted as soon as you can. I have managed to push the start date back a few days for you. I walked into our bedroom and winced, shielding my eyes. The warm, soft lighting had been replaced by a harsh, clinical cool light. Ross noticed and quickly dimmed it, looking apologetic. “I’m so sorry, honey. Tina said the cool tones would give the room a modern, high-end feel. I completely forgot your eyes are sensitive to it.” He pulled me close, whispering, “Don’t be mad at me for a stupid mistake, okay?” A stupid mistake? I wanted to laugh. When we first renovated this house, Ross had been obsessed with the lighting, terrified of anything hurting my sensitive eyes. He had traveled to light markets across the country, running himself ragged until he fell ill. I remembered crying by his hospital bed, and him wiping my tears, saying that anything affecting me was his absolute top priority. He had visited thirteen cities just to find the perfect warm lights. Now, Tina’s casual suggestion made my comfort a stupid mistake not worth mentioning. I reached for the glass on my nightstand. It was ice-cold juice. Cold liquids gave me stomach cramps, so Ross always left a glass of warm water for me. Now, it was replaced by iced juice. I couldn’t drink cold things, and I hated juice. But iced juice was Tina’s favorite. I set it down without a word. Ross didn’t notice. He kissed my cheek like he always did, but the touch felt like a thorn pricking my heart. My phone buzzed, saving me from having to speak. It was an invitation to our ten-year college reunion. I typed a quick reply confirming I’d be there. Ross looked surprised. “I thought you hated these events.” “I do, but ten years is a milestone. It’s worth going to.” Ten years ago, on graduation day, Ross had proposed to me in front of everyone. He had organized our entire class to hand me flowers, appearing at the end with a massive bouquet, getting down on one knee. He had promised me that his heart would never change. Girls in the crowd had wept. I had cried in his arms. I looked at myself in the mirror now, wondering if human hearts ever truly stayed the same. The next day, after dropping Toby off at school, we prepared to leave. But Ross stopped me. “Tina is coming with us. Let’s wait for her.” I didn’t say anything and climbed into the passenger seat. Half an hour later, Tina showed up. She reached for the front passenger door, only to freeze when she saw me sitting there. Her face paled. “Oh, sorry, Wendy. I get carsick easily, so I instinctively go for the front.” I merely nodded. She awkwardly got into the back seat. We arrived late. The others teased us, making Ross drink three penalty cups. He drank them easily, then took my cup and drank that too. The other women sighed in envy. “Ten years and you two are still like newlyweds.” “You actually proved your vows true.” Ross grinned. “I keep my promises. Of course I am going to spoil my wife.” When it was Tina’s turn, she pleaded with the group. “Spare me, guys. It’s that time of the month. I can’t drink cold alcohol today.” The men teased her. “Don’t ruin the fun, Tina. Find a boyfriend to drink for you.” Tina’s smile faltered. I was about to stand up to help her out, but Ross beat me to it. He snatched her glass and downed it in one go. “Stop teasing her. She said she is not feeling well.” His voice was light, but his eyes were serious. Eyes darted between the three of us. I clenched my fists under the table. The air grew cold. Then, someone piped up, “You two are still as close as ever.” The tension dissipated as the others began reminiscing. “Everyone knew Tina was crazy about Ross back then. Who knew he’d fall head over heels for Wendy at first sight?” “It’s amazing how Wendy and Tina ended up best friends anyway.” I forced a smile. Tina had chased Ross for a year, but Ross had fallen for me during a debate competition. When I finally agreed to date him, Tina had gracefully stepped aside. Later, I saved her from some thugs, and we became fast friends. My phone vibrated violently. It was my assistant, sounding frantic. “Wendy, you need to come back right now! Something went wrong!” I stood up abruptly. I stared at Tina, my face cold. “Did you actually review the proposal before submitting it?” Tina flinched. “Of course I did. This project is huge. I checked it several times. Ross can vouch for me.” Ross nodded. “Tina worked late for days. I remember clearly.” My assistant met me at the door. “Wendy, the submitted project budget has an extra zero. A forty-two million dollar proposal was inflated tenfold. There are two approval signatures on it. Tina’s, and Ross’s.” Tina and Ross followed me back. I threw the documents on the desk. Tina’s face turned white. “I didn’t mean to, Wendy! It was an accident!” “An accident that will cost the company nearly three hundred million? You are fired. The company will be filing a lawsuit.” “That’s enough, Wendy!” Ross yelled. “It’s not just her mistake. I’ll handle the financial fallout. But you don’t have the right to fire a shareholder.” “What do you mean?” Ross helped Tina up and draped his coat over her shoulders. “I transferred my ten percent share to her.” “Wendy, you’re being too harsh. Tina is Toby’s godmother. How is she supposed to face anyone if you humiliate her like this? She took amazing care of Toby while you were away. Consider the shares her reward.” “You are in love with her, aren’t you?” Silence filled the office. “We didn’t do anything, I swear,” Ross said after a long pause. I couldn’t even summon the energy to argue. I placed my resignation letter on the desk. “People should pay for their own choices, shouldn’t they?” I went home, packed a bag, and headed to the airport. At the security gate, Ross called. “We picked up Toby. He wants to celebrate Tina’s birthday.” He paused. “Just this once. After this, she and I are done.” I smiled quietly. “Sure. Have fun.” “Ma’am, you are cleared through security. Your gate is on the left.”

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1 My father was a high school literature teacher. My mother was a university professor of comparative literature. To make me write a literary masterpiece, they forced me to eat spoiled food, rewarded the classmates who bullied me, and abandoned me on the interstate, forcing me to chase their car through the freezing night. When they looked at my half-dead body, they only smiled and offered cold comfort. “Dante wrote his masterpiece in the depths of exile, Lana. You simply haven’t suffered enough.” With fanatical gleams in their eyes, they eventually shattered my legs, hoping to breed the next Milton. But when they realized I still couldn’t produce the legendary prose they craved, they came up with a new, twisted script. “Perhaps the misery is still too shallow. In that case, we will use our own lives to pave your path to literary greatness in blood.” … I turned the doorknob with agonizing care, trying not to make a single sound. When I pushed the door open, the house was pitch black. Realizing no one was waiting for me, a sigh of relief slipped past my lips. But as I stumbled through the dark living room, I froze. Two perfectly upright silhouettes were sitting on the sofa. A sudden chill crawled up my spine, pinning me to the floor. Then, my mother’s soft, melodic voice drifted through the darkness. “Lana, the National Creative Writing Contest is tomorrow morning, isn’t it?” I began to tremble. I knew that whenever my mother spoke in that gentle tone, a new round of torment was about to begin. Terrified and unable to squeeze out a single word, I could only watch as she stood up. She slid my backpack off my shoulders, and her hands moved to unbutton my heavy winter coat. I looked at her with pleading eyes, my voice cracking with unshed tears. “Mom, please. I promise I’ll write about the cold. I’ll capture the hunger. But it’s snowing out there, and if I get a fever, I won’t be able to write tomorrow. Can I please keep my coat?” My mother hesitated for a fraction of a second, but my father stepped forward. With a rough, impatient yank, he stripped the coat from my shivering body and shoved me toward the front door. “The cold only tempers the soul, Lana. If you can’t even endure a little winter chill, how will you ever have the depth of a real writer?” “Lana, stop being so incredibly selfish,” my mother added, her voice hardening. “Your father and I are sacrificing everything for your future. Do you honestly think we’d do anything to hurt you?” The heavy oak door slammed shut in my face, locking me out in the freezing snow. My body went numb. I didn’t even dare to crouch down to preserve my body heat. I just stood there, stiff as a board, letting the snow cover my hair. The last time I had collapsed from the cold, a kind stranger had carried me into a nearby 24-hour convenience store. I had foolishly hoped my parents would feel a shred of guilt when they came to get me. Instead, the moment they arrived, they stripped me of my dry clothes right there in front of everyone, screaming and striking me. “You ungrateful little thief! Stealing your grandmother’s pension and running away from home to blackmail us? We won’t let you get away with this!” In an instant, the sympathetic whispers of the bystanders turned into looks of utter disgust. The store owner, who had been gently comforting me, stepped back with a sneer. I had sobbed, trying to defend myself, but no one believed a teenager over her respectable, well-dressed parents. In their minds, no parents would publicly humiliate their child like that unless she truly deserved it. My father’s repeated roars of “Are you still lying?” only cemented my guilt. From that day on, the entire neighborhood knew me as a pathological liar and a thief. Whatever my parents did to me after that was dismissed as necessary discipline for a troubled child. Actually, I was never stupid. In fact, my grades were excellent. But excellence wasn’t enough for them. They didn’t want a good student; they wanted a literary genius whose name would be etched into history. My parents lived by a single, fanatical dogma: “Suffering is the cradle of literature.” Every time I failed to produce the kind of writing they demanded, they assumed it was because I hadn’t suffered enough. And so, the next punishment would be even more severe. I had tried to beg my grandparents for help once. But they only offered empty, half-hearted advice to my parents, which only made my punishments worse. Last Christmas, because my grandmother had dared to say a word in my defense, my parents threw me out of the car on the interstate on our way home. The roaring traffic rushed past me, missing me by inches. The absolute terror of death gripped my throat. I fell to my knees on the gravel, weeping and begging them to take me back, even if it meant getting beaten. But my father only sneered, stepping on the gas without a backward glance. “You’re a smart girl, Lana. Who’s going to hit a pedestrian in broad daylight?” “Just use this time to reflect on your comfortable life. Maybe the inspiration will finally strike.” I ran down that interstate, chasing the fading red taillights of their car through the freezing night. By the time I collapsed on the side of the road, my skin was bruised purple by the wind, and my feet were a bloody mess. The blood had dried and fused my socks to my raw flesh, making them impossible to peel off without tearing skin. I never caught up to them. A truck driver found me unconscious and called an ambulance. But my body was too resilient. After three days in the intensive care unit, the doctor announced that I was out of danger. As I lay there, listening to the doctor’s relieved voice through a haze of pain, a single, dark thought consumed my mind: I should have died out there. Now, standing in the snow, I waited until the neighborhood streetlights finally flickered off. Only then was I allowed back inside. The next morning, I woke up with a raging fever. Seeing my flushed face and glassy eyes, my parents didn’t look worried. Instead, their eyes lit up with absolute ecstasy. “Franz Kafka wrote his finest works while burning with fever! This is the perfect state for you to write your masterpiece today.” “You’re going to bring home that first-place trophy, aren’t you, sweetheart?” 2 I dragged my heavy, feverish body to school. The moment I dropped my bag onto my desk, the boy sitting in front of me turned around with a mocking grin. “Well, well, if it isn’t our resident literary genius! What masterpiece are we blessing the world with today, Lana?” Without waiting for an answer, he snatched my backpack, ripped open the zipper, and pulled out my journal. He began reading my private thoughts aloud in a theatrical voice, tearing the pages out one by one, crumpling them into balls, and tossing them to the rest of the class. As the classroom erupted into laughter, I lunged forward to grab my journal. But he gave me a rough, heavy shove. Weakened by the fever, I lost my balance and crashed hard against the floor, my head spinning. The bully startled, taking a step back with an annoyed frown. “Whoa, playing the victim now? I barely touched you!” Another boy threw an arm around his shoulder, laughing dismissively. “So what if she fell? Let her cry.” “Even if she bleeds, her parents would probably thank us for helping them educate her anyway.” I slowly pushed myself up from the cold floor and silently began gathering the torn pages of my journal. I didn’t say a word. They were right. My parents would never stand up for me. In fact, they were the ones who had orchestrated this hell. On the very first day of high school, my parents had stood before my entire class and made a public announcement. “Lana is our daughter. If you want to help her build character, don’t befriend her. Push her, challenge her, even rough her up a bit if you must.” “She is a future literary great, and she needs to experience the full spectrum of human suffering to write profound literature. We expect all of you to help us guide her.” At first, some classmates thought it was a sick joke and tried to be nice to me. But my parents immediately marched into the school and screamed at those students in front of the principal. After that, everyone avoided me like the plague. It wasn’t until a school delinquent framed me for stealing that my parents rewarded him with a pair of limited-edition Jordans. From that day on, I became the school’s punching bag. Inside my home and out, every waking second of my life was defined by pain. The classroom door opened, and our English teacher walked in. She cast a brief, cold glance in my direction. “Lana, clean up your trash quickly. Don’t disrupt the exam for the rest of the class.” When the test papers were handed out, before I could even write my name, the teacher tapped on my desk. “Take your test and write it out in the hallway. Your parents specifically requested it.” Amid the snickers and whispers of my classmates, I numbly gathered my pen and paper and walked out. Could great literature truly be born from misery? I sat on the cold floor of the hallway, holding my pen, but my mind was completely blank. My thoughts were like scattered snow in a blizzard, refusing to form a single coherent sentence. I forced my aching brain to think, to create, but the feverish throbbing in my skull offered nothing but pure, unadulterated pain. I had no idea what nonsense I scribbled down on that paper. But when the final bell rang, I knew with absolute certainty that I was ruined. As I walked home with the report card in my hand, I wished with every fiber of my being that I had frozen to death the night before. I dragged my feet, wishing the walk would last forever. But like a well-trained dog, I didn’t even have the courage to run away. The moment I reached the porch, the front door swung open. My mother stood there, a warm, gentle smile on her face. She handed me a steaming mug of medicine. “Drink this quickly, sweetie. If your fever gets any worse, it’ll break my heart.” I drank the bitter liquid in one gulp, a wave of nausea rising in my throat. “Now, let me see what my brilliant daughter wrote today. I can’t wait to frame your essay and hang it by my bed.” She snatched the crumpled report card from my tight grip. As her eyes scanned the failing grade, the smile instantly vanished from her face. 3 My mother’s face turned a sickening shade of gray. She stared at me, her eyes burning with fury. “Lana! You stubborn, ungrateful little brat! We have sacrificed everything to nurture your talent, and you bring home this absolute garbage? Is this how you repay our blood and sweat?” Her voice rose to a shrill, piercing shriek. Hearing the commotion, my father rushed out of the kitchen, tearing the report card from her hands. A single glance was all it took to send him into a violent rage. “We are both esteemed scholars of literature! How did we end up with a daughter as brain-dead as a pig? Do you have any idea how our colleagues laugh at us behind our backs?” He turned to my mother, his face twisted in disgust. “I told you your petty punishments wouldn’t work! Running in the snow is child’s play. You’re too soft on her!” “Only a physical deficit can force her to understand the true weight of existence!” I froze, terror locking my joints. I could feel the raw, violent malice radiating from him. My father scanned the room, and his eyes landed on a heavy steel wrench resting near the toolbox by the door. He picked it up, a twisted, maniacal grin spreading across his face as he stepped toward me. “John Milton wrote his greatest epics in absolute blindness. Byron walked with a clubfoot. It was their physical suffering that gave their words wings. Only when you are broken, Lana, will you understand what true literature is.” “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Even if you can never walk again, your mother and I will take care of you for the rest of your life.” I took a frantic step back, my legs trembling so violently I could barely stand. I had resigned myself to their twisted games, accepting the cold and the hunger, but I refused to spend the rest of my life in a wheelchair just to satisfy their sick literary fantasies. I spun around and bolted out the door. My parents’ enraged curses echoed behind me as they gave chase. I ran blindly through the streets, my heart hammering against my ribs. Where could I go? The police? Who would ever believe that two respected academics were trying to shatter their own daughter’s legs with a wrench because of a bad essay? Then, a desperate thought struck me. My grandparents! They were currently staying at my Uncle Luke’s house. Surely they wouldn’t stand by and let my parents cripple me. Gasping for air, I pounded on Uncle Luke’s front door with all the strength I had left. “Help me! Grandma, Grandpa, please open the door!” My grandmother opened the door, her eyes widening in surprise. I threw myself into her arms, sobbing hysterically. “They’re going to break my legs!” “They said… they said my essay wasn’t good because I haven’t suffered enough. They have a wrench. They want to cripple me so I can feel the pain of a tragic writer!” “What?!” My grandfather slammed his hand on the dining table, his face flushed with anger. “This is madness! Don’t worry, Lana. I will put a stop to this right now.” My parents arrived moments later, breathless and furious. But before they could lay a hand on me, my grandparents pulled them into the guest room, slamming the door shut. A tense, suffocating silence filled the house. When the door finally opened, my grandparents emerged with calm, reassuring smiles. My parents followed, their expressions remarkably subdued. “Lana, sweetheart,” my grandfather said gently. “I’ve given your parents a thorough scolding. They were just speaking out of anger. They would never actually hurt you.” “You shouldn’t have run off like that. We’re a family, we can talk things out.” Even my father managed a stiff, awkward apology. “I lost my temper, Lana. I shouldn’t have frightened you like that.” I didn’t know if I could believe them. But standing in that hallway, surrounded by my family, I realized I had no other choice. Looking at my parents’ forced smiles, I forced myself to nod, offering a meek, submissive grin. I quietly followed them back to our car. The moment we stepped back into our house, my mother turned the lock on the front door. Before I could even turn around, my father pinned me to the floor. He raised the heavy steel wrench high above his head, his face contorted in a demonic rage. “You little bitch,” he roared, “let’s see you run now!” 4 The world collapsed into a nightmare of absolute terror. I thrashed beneath his weight, weeping and screaming. “Dad! Mom! I’ll write! I’ll write every single day! Please don’t do this!” But my screams fell on deaf ears. The heavy metal wrench came down with a sickening, whistling sound, striking my leg. A white-hot agony exploded through my body, and a cold sweat broke out across my skin. One strike. Two strikes. Eventually, the sharp, blinding pain faded into a dull, throbbing numbness. The room spun, and darkness swallowed me whole. When I finally opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was my mother carrying a bowl of hot chicken broth. She sat on the edge of my bed, her eyes brimming with tears as she stroked my cheek. “Does it still hurt, sweetheart? You just rest up. We only did this because we love you. Your father and I would never do anything to harm you.” I stared at the ceiling, my eyes completely hollow. I drank the soup she offered, unable to summon the strength to respond to her words. Perhaps they were worried that further pain would ruin my focus, because during my recovery, they didn’t touch me. They brought me pain medication, fed me nutritious meals, and even presented me with the very first object that belonged solely to me. A brand-new, shiny wheelchair. The day my fractures healed enough for me to sit up, they eagerly placed a pristine notebook and a fountain pen on my lap. “Now is your time to shine, Lana. Show us the masterpiece you’ve forged from this trial. Make us proud!” They quietly closed the bedroom door, leaving me alone in the silent room. I unscrewed the cap of the pen and pressed the nib to the paper. But as I stared at the white page, a cold dread washed over me. I couldn’t remember what the letters looked like. In my mind, words had ceased to exist. They were nothing but chaotic, ink-black stains, swimming in a sea of static. I had forgotten how to read and write. As the realization settled in, I didn’t feel fear. Instead, a wave of venomous, triumphant satisfaction washed over me. Look at you, I thought, staring at the blank page. The great literary prodigy you sacrificed everything for is now nothing but an illiterate idiot. I began to scribble wildly on the page, drawing jagged, meaningless lines. When my parents pushed the door open, their faces filled with desperate hope, they were met with a page of absolute madness. My mother gasped, dropping to her knees in horror. My father’s breath hitched, and with a roar of frustration, he flipped my desk over, scattering my papers everywhere. “What is this? How could you do this to us? Is the suffering still not enough? How can you be so stubborn?” He lunged forward to strike me, but he stopped mid-swing. He stared at my face, trembling with a sudden, creeping terror. My eyes were completely vacant. I didn’t flinch. I didn’t cry. I felt absolutely nothing. What could they do to me now? Kill me? Realizing that something inside me had fundamentally snapped, my parents exchanged a frightened glance and quietly backed out of the room, slamming the door behind them. In the weeks that followed, they tried screaming at me, shaking me, even depriving me of food, but I remained entirely unresponsive. I moved through the house like a wooden puppet, immune to hunger, immune to pain. I expected them to finally discard me, or perhaps concoct a tragic accident to rid themselves of their broken experiment so they could start over. But other than the increasingly dark, resentful stares they gave me, nothing changed. Until one evening, my mother prepared a feast of all my favorite childhood dishes. She sat across from me, her eyes red and swollen, looking at me with deep contrition. “We are so sorry, Lana. Your father and I were blinded by our obsession. We were wrong.” “We’ve realized that having you happy and healthy is more important than any book. We will never force you to write again.” Ah, I thought silently, the executioner’s final meal. Without hesitation, I picked up my fork and began to eat. If the food was poisoned, at least the nightmare would finally end. But the food wasn’t poisoned. From that day on, my parents truly seemed to have reformed. They treated me with a warmth and tenderness I had never experienced in my entire life. They became the loving, doting parents I had always dreamed of. Whatever I wanted, whatever I liked, they immediately bought for me. The phrase “suffering is the cradle of literature” was never spoken again. When they discovered that my classmates were still mocking my wheelchair at school, they stormed into the principal’s office and caused an absolute uproar, forcing every single bully to apologize to me on their knees. I had never been so happy. It felt like a beautiful, fragile dream. I sometimes wondered if the steel wrench had actually hit my skull instead of my leg, and this perfect life was just the final, desperate hallucination of my dying brain. Slowly, the icy armor around my heart began to melt. As my legs gradually healed and I regained the ability to walk, my mind began to clear. On the morning of my sixteenth birthday, I stared at a greeting card on the table and felt a jolt of electricity run through my brain. I could read again. An overwhelming wave of joy washed over me. I couldn’t wait to share the news with my parents. I rushed home from school early, pushing the front door open with a bright smile. But the house was silent. Sitting on our living room sofa were my grandparents, their eyes red and hollow. In my grandmother’s trembling hands was a framed, black-and-white photograph of my parents. Her voice was raw and broken. “Lana… your parents went out to buy your birthday cake. There was an accident on the highway. They… they didn’t make it.”

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1 The wedding was about to start, but my fiancé Neil’s female best friend, Barbara, had slipped into my wedding dress. “Neil, remember when we played house as kids? I was always the mom, and you were the dad.” She smoothed down the lace over her hips, looking at him through the mirror. “Now you’re actually getting married. Play with me one last time, okay?” I watched, paralyzed, as Neil picked up the wedding band. He dropped to one knee and slid my ring onto Barbara’s ring finger. His thoughts drifted into my mind, loud and demanding. She took the dress, she took the ring; why isn’t my wife jealous yet? Hold me, Marissa. Tell me that I’m your only love. Say it, please! This is the last test, baby. Give me unconditional love, give me security, and I promise I’ll be faithful to you forever. Eight years of this. I was sick of it. I walked up. Neil looked at me, his eyes full of eager hope. I reached out, ripped the veil off my head, and threw it at Barbara. “I’m out,” I said. “Happy wedding to both of you.” I shoved the bouquet into Barbara’s hands. She froze for a second, but instead of pushing it away, she leaned closer to Neil. “Marissa, we’re practically brothers! It was just a joke, why are you taking it so seriously?” She nudged Neil with her elbow. “Look at your wife. Eight years, and she’s still this petty.” For eight years, they had constantly crossed the line in front of me. On our anniversaries, if Neil bought me a gift, he always bought Barbara one too. If mine cost fifty grand, hers had to cost a hundred grand. When we went on picnics, Barbara always took the passenger seat, casually feeding Neil snacks right in front of me, even shoving things she had already bitten into his mouth. “Marissa, Neil and I have always been like this. You don’t mind, do you?” And before I could even speak, Neil would chime in, “If she minded something like that, she wouldn’t be my girl; she’d be my mom.” Once, I was so furious I got out of the car on the highway and walked all the way back alone. His inner thoughts had followed me even then: Aww, my baby loves me too much. She can’t stand seeing me with anyone else. I’m so touched. Get angrier, let me feel your love and possessiveness. You’re the only one in the world who cares about me this much. I had been torn. One voice told me to leave; he had hurt me too much, and staying would only bring more pain. But another voice begged me to stay, reminding me that Neil was broken. I had worked so hard to pull him out of his traumatic childhood; how could I throw him back in? And so, one compromise led to worse behavior. Neil never respected my feelings. He treated my anger as a trophy of his love. A bouquet flying at me snapped me out of my thoughts. Neil stood there, his eyes red with fury, having just thrown the flowers. “If you don’t want to get married, then don’t!” he yelled. But his heart was begging: Pick them up, please. Please don’t abandon me. I love you, can’t you see that? I looked at the scattered lilies of the valley on the floor and laughed bitterly. “Let’s break up, then.” “Oh, don’t do that,” Barbara chimed in, stirring the pot. “It’s my fault. I didn’t have boundaries, and I ruined your relationship. But…” she dragged out the word, “Marissa, I might be in the wrong, but if you can just give up your own wedding like this, do you even love Neil at all?” That was Neil’s biggest trigger. He clenched his fists and screamed at me, “Then get the hell out!” He believed Barbara so easily. He forgot the eight years we spent together, how I poured my heart out for him. I knew all his preferences. I worried about his worries. Because he loved fish, I would drive three hours to the coast just to buy the freshest catch. When he had business dinners, I set alarms for late at night to pick him up, feeding him sobering soup, washing his face and feet, and cradling him to sleep. “You really are ungrateful,” I said. Neil’s face went pale. I pushed open the door and walked away. By the time I took off my wedding makeup and grabbed my bag to leave, the venue doors had been locked because the ceremony had started. Barbara, holding the skirt of the gown, was guided to the start of the red carpet by the staff. We were less than a yard apart. I could see the exquisite details of the wedding dress, and on her head, she wore the pink diamond tiara I had pre-ordered six months ago. “Marissa, let me finish the ceremony for you,” she smiled. The spotlight bypassed me and landed on her. The officiant began: “Please welcome the bride!” When Barbara walked onto the stage, the crowd gasped. Suddenly, someone noticed me. Soon, more people turned around, their whispering voices cutting into my back like needles. “Why did they swap the bride?” “Did the original bride do something scandalous and get caught?” “How embarrassing. I heard they already got their marriage certificate. The groom must feel so blind.” “Tsk, tsk. Divorced before even finishing the wedding. Who would want her now?” Neil heard it all. But instead of feeling bad for me, a smug thought crossed his mind: The wilder the rumors, the better. That way, you’ll only belong to me. Baby, get angry! Come up to the stage and take me back! I found a seat and sat down. I was too exhausted to be angry anymore. The ceremony continued. They exchanged vows, swapped rings, and embraced amid applause. Neil kept glancing my way. I looked up. His desperate gaze met my dull eyes. Amid the cheering crowd, our world was dead silent. Neil pulled Barbara close and kissed her deeply. A thunderclap seemed to shatter my mind. A high-pitched ringing filled my ears, and I could no longer hear Neil’s inner thoughts. A different voice was screaming inside me: Leave! Get out of here now! Trembling, I pulled out my phone, opened our work group chat, and approved the transfer request my manager had posted a few days ago. I went home and started packing. On my phone, the message I sent Neil remained unanswered: Are you done drinking? Meet me directly at the courthouse. We’re getting a divorce. He didn’t reply for hours. Around midnight, his friend Tommy called me. “Neil’s wasted. Come pick him up.” “Tell Barbara to go,” I said. “Barbara’s here!” Tommy yelled. “But she can’t handle him. Hurry up, he’s going to drink himself to death!” Legally, Neil and I were still married. If something happened to him, I’d be held responsible. So I drove to the club. Before I even pushed open the VIP lounge door, a burst of laughter leaked through the crack. “I bet Marissa shows up!” “To put it bluntly, she’s like a dog Neil keeps. All these years, he just waves his hand, and she comes wagging her tail!” Someone interrupted, “I bet she won’t. She lost all face at the wedding today. I don’t believe she’s that shameless to come crawling back.” “Neil, what do you think?” Neil, heavily drunk, leaned back on the sofa, his fingers tracing the cheek of a girl sitting next to him. “She’ll come,” he said confidently. “You’ve all seen it. No matter how badly I treat her, she always forgives me. She can’t live without me.” He didn’t define our relationship with love; he defined it as codependency. He never viewed us as equals. Barbara slapped his hand away. She snatched his phone, easily unlocked it, and showed everyone my text. “Keep dreaming! She’s asking for a divorce!” Neil sneered. “She’s just throwing a tantrum. Would she actually dare? We just got registered. Divorcing before the honeymoon? People would talk about her behind her back for the rest of her life!” I froze, a sharp pain twisting my heart. I couldn’t believe this came from the man I loved for eight years. Baby, I know you’re outside. You still can’t let me go. Can you hear how angry I am? Come in and coax me. Do that, and I’ll pretend today never happened. I gripped the doorknob, my knuckles turning white. “Hey, who wants to hear the diary of a simp?” Barbara waved the phone, scrolling up my chat history, reading my messages aloud as she giggled in Neil’s lap. “Hubby, which nightgown do you want me to wear tonight? Hubby, what do you want for dinner? Hubby…” I kicked the door open. Except for Neil, everyone’s face fell. I walked straight up to him. Slap! His head whipped to the side. He rubbed his jaw, but his expression wasn’t angry. You really do still care about me. “How dare you…” Barbara jumped up. Slap! I slapped her so hard she stumbled back, completely dazed. “Do either of you have any shame?” I asked. Barbara clutched her red cheek and burst into tears. Neil immediately shielded her. “Hit me if you want, but don’t touch her!” To the crowd, his actions sent a clear message: he didn’t care about me; he only cared about protecting Barbara. The others laughed and went back to drinking, completely ignoring me. One even joked, “As expected of a married couple who took vows. Always protecting each other.” Because of Neil’s attitude, his friends had never respected me. They called Barbara “his girl” behind my back and gave me derogatory nicknames. Neil knew, but he never stood up for me. He was just like those trashy people, treating my humiliation as a joke. I finally saw him clearly. “I came here for business.” I opened my bag, pulled out the divorce papers and a pen, and threw them onto the table. “Sign it.” Neil froze, his pupils trembling. “Marissa, do you know what you’re doing?” Don’t abandon me, please. I love you so much, how can you do this to me? How can you be so heartless! “Sign it,” I said, cold and clear. Tommy threw an arm around Neil’s shoulder, sneering. “Neil, sign it! Let this old woman realize what regret feels like!” The others chimed in. “Yeah! Just treat it like firing a maid!” I grabbed a beer bottle and smashed it against the edge of the table. The loud explosion of glass silenced the room. I pointed the jagged neck of the broken bottle outward, scanning the crowd. “Who wants to say another word?” Neil’s eyes were red with suppressed emotion. He grabbed the pen, gritted his teeth, and signed his name. “Take it and get the hell out!” He threw the papers at my face. The sharp paper sliced my cheek, and a drop of blood dripped onto the floor. “Didn’t you hear me?” He pulled out a thick stack of cash from his wallet and threw it into the air. The bills rained down over me, light enough to be blown away by a breeze, but heavy enough to crush a person’s soul. “Consider this payment for your services. You’re fired, maid. Get out.” I wanted to laugh, but I wanted to cry even more. My eyes were burning, but I forced my lips to curl upward. “Neil, you really are something… You really are a monster.” Don’t go! Don’t go! Tear up the papers, I can’t live without you! His inner thoughts screamed. Just swallow your pride one more time! Please! Don’t abandon me! I’ll go crazy! You promised you’d love me forever! You can’t break your promise! My hands shook as I picked up the papers, folded them, and put them in my bag. The heavy door closed, shutting out Neil’s desperate gaze. As soon as I reached my car, Neil ran out after me. I thought he was going to make some pathetic attempt to win me back. Instead, he just held out his hand. “Give me the car keys. I bought it.” He had given me this car on our 520th day together. It was painted my favorite shade of yellow, and the steering wheel had our names engraved on it: Marissa & Neil, Forever. I still remembered how thrilled I was when I received it. For six years, every time I drove it, I relived that happiness. Now, he wanted it back. “Here.” I handed him the keys. But Neil hesitated to take them, his eyes filled with pain and struggle. Don’t give them to me! I don’t want the car! I want you! Just hug me. I’ve walked ninety-nine steps, just take one step toward me and we can be whole again. Barbara ran out behind him. “Perfect, Tommy didn’t drink. Let him drive us back in this car.” Neil took the keys. It was three in the morning, and the streets were empty. I walked home alone in the dark, shivering. My feet, bare in my shoes, soon blistered and bled. When I finally unlocked the door, I went to change into my slippers, only to find them gone. Barbara’s shoes were sitting neatly next to Neil’s. The bedroom door was shut. I could hear Neil’s thoughts from inside: Open the door. See this. Get jealous. You have to care about me! Barbara is wearing your wedding robe, sleeping in our bed. I don’t believe you feel nothing. If you keep playing this game, you’re the one who will lose. I put on my headphones, playing soft music until his voice faded away. I grabbed my packed suitcase, changed into comfortable shoes, took off the necklace Neil had given me as our promise ring, and left it on the dining table. I wrote a note: “I’m returning everything. We are even. Let’s never see each other again.” I took a cab to the airport, checked in, and boarded. Three hours later, my plane landed. When my phone finally got reception, a flood of messages crashed in. Over three hundred messages and a hundred missed calls filled my screen, all from Neil. The flood of desperate words began at dawn and had not stopped.

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1 To secure the development rights for the Apex Plaza project, I spent six months rotting in an absolute wasteland, pulling back to back allnighters across five different cities. The contract I practically traded half my lifespan to win made the company stock jump three whole percentage points. But when I brought a thick stack of expense receipts back to the corporate office, the new Legal Compliance Officer stopped me dead in my tracks. She claimed the corporate reimbursement policy had changed. All expenses had to be preapproved in the system, or they were completely void. Right in front of the entire Acquisitions Department, she offered a light, mocking sneer. “Acquisitions guys are just glorified middlemen who buy drinks for clients. Do not think bringing in a big contract means you are above the rules.” I thought about throwing my scalding cup of coffee right in her face. But that money was for my mother. It was the exact amount needed for her lymphoma chemotherapy next month. I did not lose my temper. I did not beg her either. I just looked at her and smiled. The corporate world is not a debate stage. The real kill shots are never fired in the conference room. My name is Declan Wright, Deputy Manager of Real Estate Acquisitions. After running myself into the ground in the middle of nowhere for six months, I finally returned to headquarters. Without even taking a day to beat my jet lag, I grabbed a stack of receipts half an inch thick and headed straight to the Legal Department. My project bonus could wait. But this hundred and fifty grand in out of pocket expenses was literally my mother’s lifeline for her next round of treatment. The Legal Department had a brand new frosted glass door. A shiny silver nameplate hung right at eye level. It read: Vanessa Pierce, Legal Compliance. I pushed the door open. A suffocating wave of expensive floral perfume hit my nose, making me frown. “Hi, I am Declan Wright from Acquisitions. I just need a signature on these.” I placed the receipts on her desk. Vanessa looked to be in her early twenties. Her makeup was flawless, looking more suited for a red carpet gala than a corporate office. She did not even blink, entirely focused on filing her brand new diamond encrusted acrylic nails with a tiny metal buffer. “Put it there. Get in line.” I forced my patience. “This is highly time sensitive. These are the out of pocket expenses for the Apex Plaza project.” “Apex Plaza?” Her hand stopped moving. She finally looked up, letting her eyes slowly drag up and down my body. It was a look mixed with pure contempt and heavy judgment. She looked at me like I was an outdated piece of merchandise. “So you are Declan Wright?” “I am.” She picked up the stack of receipts, flipped through them carelessly, and tossed them back onto her desk with a loud smack. “Denied.” I seriously wondered if all the red eye flights had given me auditory hallucinations. “Excuse me?” “I said, denied.” She crossed her arms, leaning back into her expensive designer leather chair. Her tone dripped with extreme impatience. “Mr. Wright, while you were away these past six months, the company policy was updated three separate times. Do you not read your emails?” “I did not have the time.” I took a deep breath. Half a year of extreme pressure and pure exhaustion had drained my patience. “Which specific policy says this cannot be expensed?” She pulled a binder from her drawer and slapped it open right in front of me. “Point one. Under the new regulations, all travel expenses must be preapproved in the internal system. No out of pocket payments are allowed under any circumstances. You spent over a hundred grand without system approval. Void.” “Point two. Lodging standards. Unless you are a board member, no one is permitted to stay in fivestar hotels. I see charges for Marriott and Hilton suites in here. Do you think I am stupid?” I stared at her arrogant face. A sharp cramp twisted in my stomach from the sheer anger. “Vanessa, when I was on that business trip, this new system did not even exist. How was I supposed to get preapproval? The Apex project is a multibillion dollar deal. The client explicitly demanded we meet in the penthouse conference room at the Marriott. Was I supposed to take a billionaire developer to a cheap roadside motel?” “That is your problem, not mine.” She let out a soft laugh. “I am Legal. My job is to make sure everyone follows the rules.” The entire office went dead silent. Every single pair of eyes locked onto me. I looked right back at her, and suddenly, I started to laugh. Perfect. It seemed a real princess had taken over the castle while I was away. “Who made these rules?” I asked. “I did.” She tilted her chin up, her voice cold and wildly proud. “I am Legal. What I say goes.” “Declan, do not think landing one project makes you untouchable. Acquisitions guys are just glorified middlemen who buy drinks for clients. No matter how good you are at your little job, you need to learn your place.” She paused, keeping her voice low but ensuring the entire bullpen could hear every word. “In my office, you are just another rule breaker. I am not signing this.” She clearly expected me to slam my fists on the desk, or maybe grovel like everyone else did. I did no such thing. I calmly picked up my receipts, neatly tapping the edges together until the stack was perfect. “Vanessa,” I said, looking her dead in the eye. “Do you know what the Acquisitions team calls the Legal Department when we are out in the field?” She hesitated. “We say Legal is the heart of the company. Without your approval, not a single cent flows out. But if the heart gets blocked, it is the rest of the body that dies first.” I did not give her a second glance. I took my receipts, turned around, and walked straight to the elevator. I needed to see VP Henderson. He was the talent scout who hired me. Back then, he fought the entire board to transfer me from a tech role to Acquisitions. He used to pat my shoulder and tell me I had more drive than anyone he had ever met, promising the company would never mistreat its top performers. He tracked this Apex project from the very first pitch to the final signature. He knew exactly how much blood and sweat went into it. I knew he would back me up. 2 VP Henderson had a corner office on the top floor with a killer view of the city. I knocked and walked in. He was adjusting his silk tie in the mirror, but the second he saw me, a massive, overly enthusiastic smile plastered itself across his face. “Declan! You are finally back! Incredible work, absolutely incredible!” He slapped my shoulder hard. “Landing the Apex project was a masterpiece! You bumped the stock up three points! You are the MVP!” I was in no mood for corporate small talk. I dropped the stack of receipts right on his mahogany desk and gave him a blunt summary of Vanessa’s brand new rules. “Henderson, I paid this hundred and fifty grand out of pocket to secure the client. Now your new Legal officer is telling me it is denied.” The bright smile on Henderson’s face instantly froze. He picked up his desk phone and dialed an internal extension. “Vanessa, please come up to my office.” A minute later, Vanessa strutted into the room, her high heels clicking aggressively against the hardwood. When she saw me standing there, a provocative smirk curled her lips. “You needed to see me, Mr. Henderson?” “Well…” Henderson pointed awkwardly at the receipts on his desk. “Declan’s situation is a bit unique. Do you think we could make a special exception just this once?” Vanessa did not even bat an eye. She gave a rehearsed, robotic answer. “Mr. Henderson, the rules are the rules. Without order, there is chaos. If we break protocol for him, how am I supposed to enforce compliance moving forward?” She emphasized the word protocol like a weapon. Henderson’s face cycled through shades of pale white and embarrassed red. “But Declan did this for the company…” “Mr. Henderson,” Vanessa interrupted him. Her voice was not loud, but it carried an undeniable, heavy threat. “My uncle, the Executive VP right down the hall, has constantly stressed that our corporate standardization starts with the fine details. He explicitly stated we cannot allow employees who think they outshine their bosses to receive special treatment.” “He is just an acquisitions rep. What makes him so special?” In that exact second, the puzzle pieces snapped together. Vanessa was the Executive VP’s niece. A nepo baby air dropped into the Legal Department to enforce standardization. Her actual job was to suppress any veteran employees who were getting too successful or making too much money. And I, the star employee who just brought in a multibillion dollar contract, was the very first head she wanted on the chopping block. VP Henderson let out a long, heavy sigh and slowly turned his gaze to me. “Declan, maybe you could… just take the hit on this one? Look, Vanessa is just looking out for the company’s best interests by strictly enforcing the rules. Since you are our star player, you should lead by example and support our new colleague, right?” He started spinning a web of corporate buzzwords, talking about the big picture and mutual understanding, trying to smooth things over with absolute garbage. I got the message loud and clear. Forced to choose between the Executive VP’s pampered niece and the guy who just generated billions in pure profit, Henderson chose to protect his own skin without a second thought. All his praise, all his promises. They were entirely worthless the second nepotism walked into the room. My so called mentor had just sold out his best workhorse to save his own career. I grabbed my receipts off the desk and walked out of the office without saying a single word. Vanessa followed right behind me. She walked with her chin held high, looking exactly like a peacock that just won a fight. When we got back to the bullpen, she purposefully stopped right next to my desk. “Did you see that, Declan? In this company, performing well does not give you special privileges. My uncle is the one calling the shots now.” She let out a soft laugh. Her tone was dripping with arrogance and absolute disgust. “From now on, you better run things by me before you try to expense a single dime. Save yourself the humiliation of running to Henderson just to get rejected again.” A few coworkers who always hated my success immediately swarmed around her, eager to kiss up. “Exactly. Vanessa is totally right. A company needs order.” “Declan has been gone for six months. He is totally out of touch. He has no idea the power dynamic here completely changed.” I ignored the background noise and quietly booted up my computer. They all thought I had swallowed the insult. They thought I was just going to sit there and take it. But they had no idea how a top tier acquisitions manager actually operated. When the rules no longer protect you, you learn to use the rules against them. Or better yet, you create new rules entirely. That night, I skipped the department welcome back dinner and went straight home to my empty apartment. I had not been back in six months. A thin layer of dust coated the furniture, and the air felt stale and heavy. I dropped my luggage and sat down on the sofa in the dark. I was too exhausted to even turn on the lights. A few minutes later, my phone screen lit up the room. It was an automated text message from the oncology hospital. “Mr. Wright. The payment for your mother’s third round of targeted lymphoma therapy is past due. Please submit the balance immediately to avoid treatment delays.” In that exact moment, the cold logic and forced calm I maintained all day completely shattered. Of the expenses Vanessa just voided, over a hundred and fifty grand came directly out of my own pocket. I had carefully planned every cent. That money was supposed to pay for my mother’s chemotherapy next month. During the fourth month of my business trip, my sister called me crying. My mother was diagnosed with stage three lymphoma. My mind went entirely blank. I wanted to book a flight home that exact second. But the Apex project was at the ultimate breaking point. A team of fifty people had been bleeding for this deal alongside me for months. One slight hesitation from the client could have destroyed the entire negotiation. I gritted my teeth and wired every last dollar of my life savings to my sister. I told my family to find the absolute best doctors and use the most expensive drugs available. I told them I would handle the money. I promised myself that if I secured this deal and secured my massive million dollar bonus, I could save my mother’s life. I forced myself to smile at client dinners while my heart broke, picturing my mother’s fading, pale face. After half a year of brutal corporate warfare, I truly believed I was a conquering soldier returning home to save my family. Instead, I found out the people I fought for had burned my supplies to the ground. They did not just mock my hard work. They were actively cutting off the money I needed to keep my mother alive. A violent, sharp cramp hit my stomach. I opened a drawer, grabbed a bottle of antacids, and swallowed two pills dry. Six months of chronic stress had absolutely wrecked my digestive system. Exhaustion and a deep, burning sense of injustice washed over me like a tidal wave. But I knew this was no time to fall apart. I could walk away from that money. But I absolutely had to get justice. I was going to make them pay for trampling all over my sacrifice. I opened my laptop and pulled up a familiar contact. Gordon. Gordon was a gold tier corporate headhunter in the industry. He had been trying to poach me for three straight years. I always told him the timing was not right. Well, the timing was finally right. Next, I dialed the personal cell phone of the primary client for the Apex Plaza project. Marcus Caldwell. You want to play by the rules? Fine. Let me show you how the real rules work. 3 My phone call with Caldwell lasted less than twenty minutes. I did not complain about my company once. I did not mention a single word about my blocked expenses or the office politics. Instead, I framed the conversation entirely from his perspective as a billionaire developer. I analyzed the recent structural and legal shakeups at our corporate office. I offered a very friendly, professional warning that this level of instability could pose a massive financial risk to the execution of Apex Phase Two. “Mr. Caldwell, good evening. I apologize for calling so late, but I wanted to personally update you on a minor internal shift at our firm.” “Declan! You are back in Chicago? Excellent. I am buying you dinner tomorrow to celebrate!” Caldwell’s booming, cheerful voice came through the speaker. “I appreciate that, Mr. Caldwell, but dinner can wait. There is something you need to know immediately.” I lowered my voice slightly. “We recently had a new Legal Director air dropped into the department. She is enforcing a radically different set of compliance standards. As you know, the Acquisitions team and the Legal team have to work perfectly in sync to clear your project funds and execute the timelines.” The line went dead quiet. Caldwell was listening closely. I continued. “I just wanted to offer a friendly warning. Massive personnel shifts and sudden compliance changes during a critical execution phase could introduce highly unpredictable risks. Especially considering the billions of dollars allocated for Phase Two.” I never said I got screwed over on my expenses. I never mentioned Vanessa was a nepo baby. Caldwell was an old fox in the real estate game. I did not need to spell it out for him. He threw billions of dollars into commercial development. He knew exactly what personnel shifts and financial risks really meant. He instantly read between the lines. Declan Wright, the core architect of his multibillion dollar project, was being stripped of his power. “Declan, thank you.” His tone turned incredibly serious. “You are the most responsible project lead I have ever worked with. Stability is my absolute top priority for Phase Two. I am going to have my internal team reevaluate our risk exposure with your firm immediately.” I hung up the phone. A cold smirk spread across my face. Vanessa, you actually thought you were defending the company rules? You were about to learn that the client is the only rule that matters in this industry. Next, I dialed Gordon the headhunter. “Gordon. Are you awake?” “Well, well, if it isn’t the golden boy! Long time no see, Declan.” Gordon was as slick and energetic as always. “I honestly thought you were going to stay at that firm until you retired.” “Cut the crap, Gordon. I want out.” The line was silent for three full seconds before Gordon exploded with pure excitement. “You finally woke up! The CEO at Horizon Tech has been asking about you for months! If you give me the green light, the Head of Acquisitions job for the entire Midwest is yours! You can even handpick your own team!” Horizon Tech. Our absolute biggest corporate rival. “Gordon,” I interrupted his rant. “I am not calling to accept the offer today.” “I am calling because I need you to set a trap for me.” Gordon paused, then let out a massive, booming laugh. “You are a terrifying guy, Declan. Tell me what to do. I always told you that your current firm didn’t deserve a guy with your brains.” “It is simple.” I leaned forward, keeping my voice low. “I want you to heavily negotiate the details of the Horizon Tech offer. Make the demands as specific and arrogant as possible. But remember, do not officially accept anything yet.” “All you have to do is casually leak the information. Make sure the entire real estate industry knows that Horizon Tech is trying to poach me. And make sure everyone knows Horizon is willing to buy out the entire Apex Phase Two contract just to get me in their building.” Gordon sucked in a sharp breath. “That is ruthless. Horizon wants that project so bad they are willing to authorize a ridiculous signing bonus.” “Perfect.” I nodded slowly. “Make sure that exact dollar amount casually gets leaked to the press too.” This is the reality of the corporate world. In one company, all your hard work and billions in profit can be erased by a single sentence from an executive’s relative. But at a rival company, that exact same hard work is a treasure they will fight over with cold, hard cash. All I had to do was make sure my current bosses saw exactly what my real price tag looked like.

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1 I just got back from a business trip, and my boyfriend and I had a wild, breathless night. But as the fog of passion cleared, a cold realization hit me. His rhythm was all wrong. The way he held me, the angles, the touch—it wasn’t him. I grabbed him by the shoulder, my eyes scanning his face for any sign of betrayal, any detail that would confirm he was cheating. The next second, his eyes met mine, trembling. “Hey… Elias’s girl… I can’t do another round…” I froze. He looked at me with puppy-dog eyes, completely exhausted. “I have a basketball game tonight. If we go again, my legs are going to turn to jelly.” My heart stopped. It was like a bolt of lightning had cleared my dazed mind. I suddenly realized the man in my bed wasn’t my boyfriend, Elias. It was his younger brother, Chase. The college kid who hadn’t even graduated yet. No wonder his haircut felt slightly different when I walked in. A cold sweat broke out across my skin, chilling me to the bone. I yanked the sheets up to cover myself and let out a choked scream. “What are you doing here?! Why are you in my apartment?!” Silence fell over the room, thick and suffocating. His long eyelashes fluttered as he stared at me, his voice raw with disbelief. “What is that supposed to mean? You were so happy a second ago. Did you really not know who you were with?” He looked deeply hurt, like a kicked puppy. The explanation of my face blindness died in my throat. I couldn’t bring myself to say it. I took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to steady my racing heart. “Where is Elias? Why isn’t he home?” Chase lowered his gaze. “I came down for a game at the local college. The hotels were completely booked, so I had to crash at Elias’s. He didn’t want to wake me up when he left, so he stayed at the office. Neither of us knew you’d be back early.” His voice trailed off, his expression becoming softer, more helpless. No. I couldn’t let his innocent act fool me. I gritted my teeth. “Then why didn’t you say something before you took your clothes off?!” Chase’s shoulders slumped. “You kissed me the second you walked through the door. I didn’t even have a chance to breathe, let alone explain. “I know you’re worried about Elias finding out. I won’t tell him. “Let’s just pretend today was a dream.” As he spoke, he slipped back into his clothes and quietly began stripping the bed, replacing the sheets with fresh ones to erase every trace of what we had done. It was the perfect, clean resolution I should have wanted. But watching him, I felt like the worst person on earth. Finally, as he picked up my lacy thong to wash it by hand, I couldn’t take it anymore. “I’ll do that.” As I stepped closer, he flinched back as if burned, his eyes rimmed with red. “I’m the one who dirtied it,” he whispered. God help me. I felt like a criminal. 2 My phone buzzed. It was a voice message from Elias. I went to play it, but with Chase’s tearful eyes locked on me, a wave of guilt washed over me. I clicked the text-conversion button instead. Hey baby, when are you getting back? I just learned a new recipe. Miss you so much. One of the reasons I fell for Elias in the first place was his cooking. He always took care of my sensitive stomach, saving me from a lifetime of takeout. A small smile tugged at my lips. Beside me, Chase murmured, “That new recipe he learned? I’m the one who taught him.” I looked up in surprise. Chase was already pulling open the fridge, desperate to prove himself. “There are still ingredients from yesterday. If you don’t believe me, I’ll cook for you right now.” Before I could stop him, he pulled off his shirt and tied Elias’s apron around his waist. Why did he have to take his shirt off to cook? I followed him into the kitchen. Chase was incredibly fast, chopping, washing, and tossing ingredients in the pan with practiced ease. The apron strings wrapped snugly around his waist, accentuating the lean, muscular contours of his back. “Hey, wait,” I stammered, my eyes darting around. “Why are you cooking right now? This isn’t the time!” But the food was already plated. He turned to me, his eyes full of quiet anticipation. “Tessa, don’t you want a taste?” A taste of what? This raw, athletic college kid? My mind split into two screaming voices. One was telling me to run, while the other was whispering how dangerous and thrilling this whole mess was. Chase set the plate down and took a slow step toward me, towering over me. “Tessa, why aren’t you saying anything?” The air in the kitchen grew heavy, charged with a strange, suffocating heat. “You should call me your brother’s girl,” I whispered, my throat dry. He froze. His eyes darkened. “Is that what you want me to call you when we’re in bed?” The words hung in the air. Before I could answer, the sound of the front door unlocking shattered the silence. My scalp went numb. A second later, Elias’s voice echoed from the hallway. “A suitcase? Baby, is that you? Are you home?” 3 Three of us. One room. Total, dead silence. Cold sweat poured down my neck as I frantically tried to think of a lie, but my brain had completely short-circuited. Then, Chase spoke up, his voice perfectly casual. “Oh, hey, Elias. You’re back. Tessa just walked in a minute ago, right as I finished making lunch.” I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Elias kicked off his shoes and immediately wrapped his arms around me, lifting me off my feet. “Baby, why didn’t you tell me you were coming back early? You didn’t reply to my texts!” He spun me around, and my exhausted, dizzy head swam. Thankfully, Chase cut in. “Let’s eat, Elias.” His voice was cool, but as he turned back to the stove, his bare, muscular back was on full display. Elias frowned. “Chase, where are your clothes?” Chase paused. My fingers tensed, twisting together. “They’re in the wash,” Chase said quietly, heading back into the kitchen. My heart did a violent flip. There were clothes hanging on the balcony. But so was my freshly washed lace thong. If Elias went out there… Desperate, I grabbed Elias by the collar and pulled him down into a hard, sudden kiss. He froze, caught off guard, but quickly melted into it, returning the kiss with fierce passion. His breathing turned shallow and heavy. “Baby, wait… Chase is still here…” 4 Clatter. A plate shattered on the kitchen floor. Chase stood there, his eyes instantly turning red. Elias and I pulled apart. Elias cleared his throat, looking slightly embarrassed. “Sorry, man. We haven’t seen each other in a while. Just pretend you didn’t see that.” Chase’s lips trembled. “Must be nice… being so swept up in the moment.” Elias didn’t catch the bitterness in his voice. “What?” Chase didn’t answer. He knelt down, silently sweeping up the broken shards. From where I stood, I could only see the lonely, tense line of his shoulders. We sat down to eat, but the delicious food tasted like ash in my mouth. My entire focus was on the subtle, deliberate friction brushing against my right leg under the table. I knew it wasn’t Elias. Elias was sitting on my left. The silence at the table was suffocating. Then, Chase picked up a piece of green pepper and dropped it into Elias’s bowl. “Eat your veggies, bro,” Chase said softly. Then, he picked up a perfectly glazed rib and placed it gently into my bowl. Elias’s expression froze. I choked, coughing violently. Elias looked at me, his eyes unreadable. “Baby, let me get you some water.” Yes. Please. Anything to break this agonizing tension. I nodded frantically. The moment Elias walked away, I let out a long breath and glared at Chase. “What are you doing?!” He didn’t look up, chewing his food slowly. Then, he murmured, “The fridge is on the balcony, Tessa.” The balcony. The thong. It hit me like a physical blow. I sprang up and bolted toward the balcony, but Elias was already coming back with a glass of water. His face was entirely calm. “What’s wrong, baby?” he asked. I swallowed hard, my throat tight. But I noticed his lips were slightly pale. “Were you that thirsty?” he asked softly. 5 I felt like I was sitting on a bed of nails. Elias didn’t ask any questions, but the heavy, unsaid suspicion in the air was driving me insane. I was terrified he was just gathering evidence, waiting for Chase to leave so he could confront me. The suspense was agonizing. Finally, Elias looked up, his voice cold and flat. “You should leave today.” He was talking to his brother. The two men locked eyes. For a moment, the entire world seemed to go silent. My soul felt like it had left my body. By the time I came to, Chase was already packing his bags. He walked to the door and gave me one last, lingering look. “See you next time, Tessa.” The door clicked shut. Only Elias and I were left in the apartment. Everything looked perfectly normal, yet I couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eye. Suddenly, Elias grabbed my wrist. I looked up. His eyes were rimmed with red. “Tessa… you have no idea how much I missed you these past few days.” A suffocating wave of guilt crashed over me. I took a deep breath, preparing to tell him the truth. But before I could speak, Elias leaned down and covered my mouth with his. He kissed me with a desperate, almost feral intensity, his tears spilling onto my cheeks. This time, there was no gentle rhythm. He was burning hot, pulling me into a chaotic storm of pleasure and pain. In my dazed, drifting mind, I heard Elias whisper against my ear: “Baby… does he make you feel better than I do?” My eyes snapped wide open. “What did you say?!” But another wave of passion crashed over us, and he didn’t answer, pouring all his energy into making me forget everything else. It was as if what I heard was just a hallucination. He knew my body too well. Within seconds, my thoughts dissolved again. When it was over, I was completely drained, on the verge of falling asleep. In the quiet haze, a raspy, quiet voice began to tell a story. “Chase was born when I was four. He always knew how to charm everyone. I couldn’t help but be jealous of him. I took everything he had, all through our childhood. On his eighteenth birthday, our parents and I went on a trip. He called, crying for help. I thought he was just trying to steal their attention again, so I secretly turned off my parents’ phones. When we got back, we found out he had acute pancreatitis. He was left alone, and he almost died in that empty house.” Elias paused, his voice cracking. “I swore to him then that I would never take anything he loved ever again. But Tessa… why did it have to be you?” 6 The next morning, the apartment was spotless. The leftover food was gone, and my suitcase was neatly put away. Elias was always like this, quietly taking care of everything. I picked up my phone and noticed a new contact request. Tessa, are you coming to my game tonight? I’d be really happy if you did. I didn’t need to ask who it was. Chase and I had made a terrible mistake, and I needed to end it. I would cut ties with Chase completely, and then… I would beg Elias for forgiveness. With my mind made up, I called him. He answered almost instantly. “Tessa?” His voice had a hopeful lift to it. I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Delete my number after this. We can’t contact each other anymore.” Silence fell over the line. Then, a sudden, violent crash echoed through the phone. Someone on the other end started screaming in a panic. “Chase! Oh my god, Chase! Quick, call an ambulance!” My heart squeezed tight. “Chase?! Chase, what happened?!” 7 The call went dead. Panic clawed at my chest. Something had happened to Chase. I tried calling back, but it kept going straight to voicemail. Was it because of what I said? I spent the entire day in a state of agonizing anxiety. At the end of the day, Elias picked me up from work. “I have to drop by the hospital. I’ll take you home first.” “The hospital?!” My voice pitched high. “Who’s hurt?!” Elias glanced at me, his eyes dark. “How did you know someone was hurt, and not sick?” My breath caught. I opened my mouth to explain, but no words came out. The light turned green, and Elias stepped on the gas. After a long, suffocating silence, he spoke in a low, hollow voice. “It’s Chase. He’s hurt. Do you… want to come?” It really was Chase. And it was because of my phone call. I gripped the seatbelt, my voice trembling. “I have to go, Elias. Please, take me with you.” 8 When we arrived, his teammates confirmed my worst fears. They said Chase was on the phone, and suddenly his face went completely pale. A stray basketball had flown right toward him, but he didn’t even try to dodge it. He fell backward, cracking his head against the concrete bleachers. He was still unconscious. “Chase usually has crazy reflexes,” one teammate said, pacing the hallway. “But he got that call from a girl and just lost it. Otherwise, there’s no way he wouldn’t have dodged that ball.” The hallway fell into a heavy silence. Elias’s expression was grim, completely unreadable. I stood there, my mind a chaotic mess of guilt and fear. Everything was spiraling because of me. I took a slow step toward Elias. The urge to confess, to lay everything bare, was overwhelming. No matter what happened next, the tragedy was my fault. “Elias…” I whispered, my fingers trembling. He looked up, a raw, fragile pain flickering in his eyes. “Don’t,” he rasped, his fists clenching so hard the veins bulged on his thighs. “Don’t say it. I don’t want to hear it right now.” A dull ache spread through my chest. Just then, the ward door opened. A nurse stepped out. “The patient is awake.” Chase lay in the bed, his head wrapped in thick white bandages. Despite the distance, his eyes locked onto me the second I walked in. “Tessa… my head hurts,” he whispered.

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01 I wanted nothing more than to be a mother. After marrying Marcell, I poured all my energy into getting pregnant, only for my single best friend, Rina, to conceive first. The paternity test confirmed the child was his. “Explain this!” I screamed, shoving the report in his face. Marcell turned deathly pale. “I swear I never touched her!” Rina sobbed, kneeling before me. “We are innocent! I don’t know how this happened, but the baby is just there.” Heartbroken, I filed for divorce. A year later, I started dating Oliver. This time, I kept it quiet, determined to get pregnant before marriage. If he cheated, I would raise the child alone. But a few months in, Rina showed up at my door with a prominent baby bump. Once again, the test named my partner as the father. Oliver tore at his hair in disbelief. “You’re insane! I don’t even know who you are!” Rina collapsed, drenched in tears. “I’m terrified too, I swear I don’t know how!” I broke down completely, broke up with Oliver, and fled abroad for a year to clear my head. No matter how much I thought about it, I couldn’t make sense of it: Why did every child I tried to have end up in her womb? To uncover the truth, I fabricated a new relationship. I found a photo of an elite businessman online and posted staged, intimate photos on social media. Three months later, Rina texted: [Are you seeing someone again? I… I’m pregnant.] … [Let’s meet up and talk. I’ll pick the place.] [Sure.] Rina replied instantly. I put my phone down and went back to watching the surveillance feed. In her cramped, rented apartment, Rina was breastfeeding. She cradled her one-year-old daughter in her arms, while her two-year-old son sat in a high chair next to her. Her hair was greasy and unwashed, and she wore a pilled, oversized hoodie. When the baby girl pulled at her shirt, Rina snapped, “Shut up!” Her son started crying from the sudden shout. She slapped his bottom hard, making him wail even louder. I clenched my fists. She didn’t deserve to be a mother. Why was it that I wanted a child so desperately but couldn’t have one, while she treated the miracle of life like trash? Three months ago, I returned to the country, determined to find out how she kept getting pregnant. I rented the apartment right next door to Rina’s. I still remembered the passcode to her door. It was her birthday, a detail she had shared with me back when we were inseparable. Under the cover of night, I slipped inside and placed tiny pinhole cameras in every corner of her home. At first, I thought she was doing this out of jealousy. She was jealous of my wealthy family, my looks, and the fact that my boyfriends were always successful men. I assumed she was seducing my partners to spite me. So, I invented the fake boyfriend. I grabbed a photo of an executive online, had my assistant edit us together, and announced my new “romance.” I wanted to see how she would manage to get pregnant this time. But over the past three months of constant surveillance, neither Marcell nor Oliver had ever visited her. I even asked mutual friends; both of my exes swore they didn’t know Rina, and their families wanted nothing to do with her. Could they… really be innocent? Even more bizarrely, Rina hadn’t brought a single man home in three months. Her only outings were to buy diapers and formula, and I had personally shadowed her every time. So where did this third baby come from? A wild, terrifying thought crossed my mind. Was she faking it? Was she doing all of this just to torment me? I sent her a follow-up text: [Tomorrow morning at ten, meet me at the central hospital. I’m taking you for a check-up.] The next morning, she arrived with her daughter in her arms and her son strapped to her back. Her face was sallow, with dark circles under her eyes. She looked ten years older than me. In the ultrasound room, the transducer glided over her abdomen. A tiny, faint shadow flickered on the monitor. The doctor confirmed she was six weeks pregnant. I stood frozen in the room. “This is impossible…” I dragged her straight to the office of the chief of obstetrics. The doctor was a female professor in her fifties. “Doctor, is it medically possible for a woman to become pregnant without any physical contact with a man?” I asked point-blank. The doctor frowned. “Medically speaking, it is impossible. Unless under two very specific circumstances.” “First, artificial insemination. You only need the male’s specimen.” “Second, the woman was assaulted while unconscious.” Artificial insemination? My new boyfriend was just a random picture from the internet. Where would she have gotten his specimen? And no man had entered her apartment in three months. “That’s impossible!” I blurred out. “No man has been anywhere near her these past few months!” The moment the words escaped my lips, I realized my mistake. Rina spun around to face me, her eyes wide. “How do you know no man has been near me? Have you been watching me?!” Clutching her children, she took a step back, her eyes turning red instantly. “It’s you! You’re jealous of my fertility! You’ve been desperate for a child but can’t have one, while I get pregnant so easily! You couldn’t handle it, could you?” “So you sent your man to assault me! I’m calling the police!” My father was the CEO of a listed company. A police report of this nature would devastate our stock price. I rushed to grab her. “Calm down!” She ignored me, pulling out her phone. In a panic, I grabbed her wrist. “Don’t call the police!” I screamed. “My new boyfriend is fake! He’s just a picture from the internet! There is no such person, so who could have possibly touched you?” Rina went dead silent. She slowly raised her head. There was no shock in her bloodshot eyes. Instead, a chilling smile spread across her face. “You’re lying.” She stared into my eyes, her voice dripping with venom. “You think I haven’t done my research? That man from your photos… he doesn’t just exist. I’ve already found him.” 02 “Look for yourself!” Rina shoved her phone in my face. On the screen was a search result. Xavier Ward, founder and CEO of Xenon Tech. The man in the photo was the exact same person I had posted on my profile. My brain went entirely numb. I had just grabbed a random picture online because he looked like a handsome businessman. Who would have thought he was a real, prominent tech CEO? Why couldn’t I have this kind of luck with the lottery? “You planned this with him!” Rina glared at me. “You had him assault me, and now you’re pretending you don’t know him!” “Are you out of your mind?” I pushed her phone away. “I don’t even know his name!” “Don’t know him? Then where did those cozy photos on your profile come from?” I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Even if I told her they were photoshopped, she would never believe me. “Fine!” I grit my teeth. “We’re going to his office right now to confront him! You don’t believe me? We’ll get a DNA sample right in front of him and see if he denies it!” Rina hesitated for a fraction of a second, then sneered. “Let’s go.” At the headquarters of Xenon Tech, on the top floor. The receptionist’s face paled when we stated our business. “Ladies, I am terribly sorry, but Mr. Ward is not taking any visitors.” “Not taking visitors?” I slammed the ultrasound report onto the desk. “This woman claims your CEO assaulted her, and this baby is the proof.” The receptionist’s lips trembled. “Mr. Ward is really…” “Get him out here, or I’m calling the press right now. Let’s see how your stock price holds up when a sexual assault scandal hits the news.” The receptionist’s eyes widened. She looked around nervously, then lowered her voice. “Follow me.” The corridor was dead silent, save for the click of our heels. She pushed open the door to the CEO’s office, locked it behind us, and turned around. “How far along is the pregnancy?” she asked, her eyes sharp and defensive. “Six weeks,” Rina said, looking around the empty office. “Where is he?” The secretary remained silent for three agonizing seconds, her eyes welling with tears. “Don’t bother looking.” “What do you mean?” “Mr. Ward… passed away six months ago.” The words hit me like a physical blow. “What?” “A sudden heart attack. Resuscitation failed,” the secretary said, her voice cracking. “The company hasn’t finalized the transition of ownership yet. To keep the stock price stable, the news hasn’t been made public.” She looked up, staring intently at Rina’s stomach. “How could a man who has been dead for six months get you pregnant?” “Impossible!” Rina shrieked. I, on the other hand, was dead calm. I had been watching her night and day. Even if Xavier Ward were alive, he wouldn’t have been able to get near her. Without a word, the secretary opened a drawer and placed a document on the desk. A death certificate. Then she showed us a video on her phone, a private funeral service, displaying the casket and the portrait of Xavier clearly. Rina’s knees buckled. Carrying one child and holding another, she collapsed toward the floor. I caught her just in time. “I need a strand of his hair,” I told the secretary. “For a DNA test.” The secretary frowned. “He’s dead. Why are you still…” “Hair, a comb, a glass, anything. If you don’t give it to me, I’m calling the press.” Grimacing, the secretary pointed to the private dressing room in the corner. Rina and I rushed in, searching like maniacs. At the bottom of the wardrobe, an old photograph slid out. It showed a young woman holding the hands of two young boys, about five or six years old. They were twins, smiling brightly. The woman’s face looked incredibly familiar. But in that moment, my mind went blank, and I couldn’t place her. “Found it!” Rina called out, holding a stray hair she had retrieved from a suit jacket. “Let’s go.” I quickly stuffed the photo back and pulled her out, heading straight for the lab. When the expedited DNA report was handed to us, my hands were shaking. The words on the paper were clear: Biological father of the fetus: Xavier Ward. Probability of paternity: 99.99%. My mind shattered. How could a man who had been dead for six months get Rina pregnant?

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During Jasmine’s summer break, we road-tripped north, only to be stranded on a desolate highway with an empty tank. It made no sense; I had just filled the brand-new SUV. How could it burn a full tank in twelve miles? With zero cell service, a pack of massive, starving wolves circled the freezing car. Sarah shivered violently. “Dean, we just put eighty bucks in. We can’t be empty.” “Leak? Mechanical failure?” Risking my life, I stepped out. Wolves lunged. I lit a spare jacket, swinging flames to drive them back as I checked the chassis. Everything was intact, but the tank was bone dry. No punctures. No leaks. Where did the gas go? Forced back inside by snapping jaws, we locked the doors and prayed for a passing car. No one came. Helpless, I watched Sarah and Jasmine slowly starve to death before my eyes. Holding their lifeless bodies, I closed my eyes in suffocating despair, dying without answers. Then, my eyes snapped open. I was back at the gas pump, nozzle still in hand. … The station attendant reached out to grab the pump. I practically shoved him out of the way. “Hold on!” “Did you siphon my gas?” The horrific memories of my previous life were still burning in my brain. Because we ran out of gas, we had been trapped in that frozen wasteland. I could still hear Sarah’s dying sobs. You said this route was safe! You said there was no danger! Dean, she is only fourteen… The crushing guilt and agony made it hard to breathe. But beneath the grief was a boiling rage. How did my fuel vanish? My car was fine. The tank had no leaks. The only logical explanation was that the guy working the pump had tampered with it. The attendant glared at me, wiping his greasy hands on his overalls. “You stood right here watching me the whole time, buddy. How exactly would I steal your gas?” “Sounds to me like you cannot pay the bill and you are looking for an excuse.” His loud voice drew the attention of everyone at the station. Jasmine, always easily embarrassed, flushed bright red and tugged at my sleeve. “Dad, please do not accuse him like that.” “Look, the gauge says it is full. It is practically overflowing.” I followed her pointing finger and saw the fuel pooling right at the lip of the tank. Was it really full? Was there actually no problem here? Impossible. I had been driving this SUV for six months. I knew its exact mileage. Twelve miles would not even burn a tenth of this tank, let alone drain it dry. This was the last service station before a hundred-mile stretch of absolute nothingness. To avoid the nightmare I just woke up from, I had to be absolutely sure. I grabbed a clean dipstick from my trunk and shoved it down the fuel pipe, checking to see if there was some sort of blockage or trick. The guy in the pickup truck behind me laid on his horn. “Are you going to take all day?” “I have been coming to this station for years. They do not rip people off. If you are trying to scam free gas, you picked the wrong town!” The honking made Sarah and Jasmine even more anxious. They begged me to get in the car and stop making a scene. But this was a matter of life and death. I ignored them all. I pulled the stick out and inspected it closely. The depth was correct. The liquid was pure gasoline, not water or cheap filler. My confusion only deepened. If the gas station was clean, how did a full tank disappear into thin air? Unable to find a single flaw, I handed over my credit card, paid the bill, and drove off the lot. Jasmine muttered quietly from the backseat. “Dad, what is going on with you?” “You are never this paranoid. Why did you make such a huge scene over eighty bucks?” There was a hint of resentment in her voice, but I could not bring myself to be angry. In my previous life, when we were starving to death in the wilderness, Sarah and Jasmine had tried to force me to eat their last scraps of food. They loved me. To them, I was the most important person in the world. And yet, because I was always traveling for work, I barely spent any time with them. I had finally taken a vacation to bring them on this road trip, only to lead them straight into a death trap. This time, I swore to God, I would get them out of this wilderness alive. “This next stretch is a hundred and twenty miles of empty road. No towns, no stations,” I explained softly. “I just wanted to be absolutely certain we would not break down.” Sarah sighed, rubbing her temples. “Well, you checked the gas. It is fine. Can we please just get moving?” “Jasmine already had one episode with her heart condition. Every day we delay is a risk. We need to get her back home to her doctors.” My grip on the steering wheel tightened until my knuckles turned white. This was supposed to be a month-long vacation. But Jasmine’s heart condition had flared up out of nowhere, forcing us to cut the trip short. I had chosen this remote mountain pass because it was the fastest route home. I thought I was saving time, but I ended up killing the two people I loved most. The dashboard showed a full tank, but the phantom memories of starving in the cold kept gnawing at me. “It is a long drive ahead,” I said, keeping my voice level. “Just to be safe, I want to pull into that mechanic down the road and have the car looked over.” The gas was fine. The station was clean. The only remaining possibility was a hidden mechanical failure. To eliminate every single risk, I pulled into the local auto shop. I handed the head mechanic ten times his usual diagnostic fee and told him to tear the car apart and check everything. Three hours later, I got the verdict. The car was flawless. “That cannot be right,” I argued. “Did you miss something? A loose valve? A faulty sensor?” The mechanic’s face darkened. “I ran the diagnostics ten times. There is nothing wrong with this vehicle.” “You stood over my shoulder the entire time. We checked every hose, every line, every electronic module. It is a brand new car, buddy. It is fine.” “Look, I will just give you your money back. Stop wasting my time.” Seeing him so absolutely certain made my anxiety spike. The condition of the car was exactly the same as in my previous life. If I could not find the problem, what happens when the gas vanishes again? While I was arguing with the mechanic, Sarah marched over, dragging Jasmine by the hand. “The professional just told you the car is fine. Why are you dragging this out?” “Are you waiting for Jasmine to have another heart attack before you finally start driving?” I looked at Jasmine. She did look paler, her breathing shallow. The car was a dead end. Stalling out here would not fix anything. I gritted my teeth and climbed into the driver’s seat. “Let’s go.” But before hitting the highway, I pulled into the only general store in town. I planned to buy out their entire stock of water and non-perishables. If we did break down, I was making damn sure we had enough supplies to wait out the wolves until rescue came. I walked through the sliding glass doors and froze. The shelves were completely bare. No bread. No canned goods. No bottled water. Just two dusty bottles of soda sitting alone in the cooler. The store owner shrugged apologetically. “Sorry, man.” “Supply truck broke down an hour out. Been delayed for days.” “Won’t get a restock until tomorrow morning at the earliest.” I stared at the empty metal racks. I turned to Sarah. “We need to stay at a motel tonight. We will wait for the truck, stock up tomorrow, and then hit the road.” Sarah cut me off, her voice sharp and impatient. “It is barely a hundred miles. We can drive that in two hours. We already have some snacks in the trunk. Why on earth do we need to stockpile food like the apocalypse is coming?” She was right about the trunk. We had enough snacks to last the three of us maybe two days. But I remembered the wolves. They had been relentless, circling our car for ten straight days until we starved. I grabbed Sarah’s hand, squeezing it tight. “If something happens out there, we need enough food and water to survive the wait.” “It is just one extra night. Jasmine will be fine.” Seeing the pure intensity in my eyes, Sarah backed down and stayed quiet. When night fell, Sarah and I slept in the car in the motel parking lot. We took turns keeping watch to make sure absolutely no one touched the vehicle. During my shift to sleep, I drifted off. A sudden, piercing scream jerked me awake. “Dean! Wake up!” “Jasmine is having an episode! She just took her very last emergency pill!” “We cannot wait for tomorrow! If she has another attack without her meds, she is going to die!” I jolted upright. Jasmine was slumped in the back seat, clutching her chest, gasping for air. Her skin was the color of ash. It looked exactly like a severe angina attack that was barely being managed by medication. I looked at the empty prescription bottle on the center console. We really could not wait anymore. I had checked the fuel. I had checked the engine. I had eliminated all the variables from the gas station. Whatever caused the car to die in my last life had to happen on the road. If I drove carefully, maybe I could avoid it. But if we stayed here, Jasmine might actually die from a heart attack. I stepped out into the freezing night air, checked the gas cap one last time. Still full. I took Sarah’s phone, securely taped it to the underside of the rear bumper, and turned on a live video feed to my own phone. I was going to watch the undercarriage the entire drive. I took a deep breath, put the car in drive, and hit the highway. For the next two hours, Sarah and I kept our eyes glued to the live feed and the road ahead. We hit no debris. We did not bottom out. I drove as smoothly as humanly possible. We crossed the twenty-five-mile mark. I glanced at the dashboard. The fuel gauge was perfectly stable. I let out a massive sigh of relief. I had done it. I had bypassed the event that killed us. I did not know exactly what caused it the first time, but we were going to survive. The very second that thought crossed my mind, the digital fuel needle violently dropped to zero. The engine sputtered, choked, and died. The headlights flickered out. And from the tree line just beyond the asphalt, glowing green eyes pierced the darkness. The wolves had arrived. “What the hell is happening?” I slammed my fists against the steering wheel, screaming into the dead quiet of the cabin. I checked the tank! It was full! The car hit nothing! Where did an entire tank of gasoline go?! “Dean, what is wrong?” “We are not at the hospital yet. Why did you stop?” Sarah rubbed her eyes, waking up from a nap in the passenger seat. I dug my nails into my palms, completely unable to form the words to tell her that we were trapped in the exact same nightmare. Looking at the wolves emerging from the shadows, the horrific memories of our slow deaths crashed over me. Did my rebirth mean absolutely nothing? Was I just doomed to watch them die again? I gritted my teeth, grabbed my lighter, lit a spare shirt on fire, and kicked my door open. Even if it killed me, I was going to find out where my fuel went. I swung the flaming shirt like a torch, screaming at the wolves to keep them back. I dropped to my knees and checked the tank. It was perfectly intact. Not a single scratch. But it was empty. I crawled further under the bumper and checked the phone I had taped there. The video feed was frozen. The signal had dropped. The last frame showed the undercarriage in pristine condition. The physical reality matched the video. The car was fine. A wave of suffocating anger and despair locked around my throat. Was I really going to crawl back into that driver’s seat and wait to die all over again? Just as the thought entered my head, a shockwave of absolute clarity hit me. My entire body went cold. I knew it. I finally knew exactly where my gasoline went. I knew exactly why it vanished into thin air. I knew who did it.

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After being bullied by the prettiest girl in school for three years, I did something petty and ugly. I used her photos and started an online relationship with a rich heir. He was gentle, polite, and generous with money. His only flaw was that he was a little too intense when it came to desire. Very quickly, with enough sweet talk, I got four years of college tuition out of him. On the day I decided to break up with him, I asked casually, “Baby, what would you do if I suddenly disappeared?” He laughed, his tone turning dangerous. “Sweetheart, don’t joke about that. I don’t like it.” I didn’t respond well to pressure. So I deleted him. Later, by accident, I ended up interning at the same tech company as the girl who had bullied me. On our first day, the CEO from headquarters came down for an inspection. I stood at the very back of the crowd. When I looked up, I saw a face so familiar my breath stopped. Before I could react, the man’s gaze landed on Summer Blake’s face. And his eyes suddenly lit up. 1 The man I had dated online for three years was standing right in front of me. The impact was too much. For a few seconds, my mind went completely blank. By the time I came back to myself, his steps had paused. Then he suddenly turned. And walked straight toward us. My heart pounded. I carefully lifted my eyes. The man was breathtakingly handsome, his expression unreadable, his whole body carrying a cold, untouchable aura. He wore a black shirt I had once seen in his photos. It framed his broad shoulders and narrow waist with clean precision. A section of wrist showed beneath his cuff. Faint veins lay under the skin, restrained and powerful. Bennett Vale. He was taller than in the photos. More handsome. Harder to look away from. Our supervisor whispered that Mr. Vale was here to inspect the work. She told us not to be nervous. He had no time to bother with interns like us. The words had barely left her mouth when Bennett’s steps slowed. A cuff link slipped without warning from his wrist. It hit the floor with two crisp taps. Rolled past my shoe. Then stopped perfectly at Summer’s feet. The air seemed to still for a second. Bennett stopped in front of us. More accurately, he stopped in front of Summer. The two of them stood face-to-face, very close together. One cold and elegant, the other bright and beautiful. They looked painfully well matched. I held my breath. Four words appeared in my mind: a perfect pair. 2 His secretary immediately moved forward to pick up the cuff link. But Bennett suddenly raised a hand and stopped him. Summer blinked. As if she understood something, she hurriedly bent down, picked it up, and handed it to Bennett with flushed cheeks. “Mr. Vale, you dropped this…” Bennett did not take it right away. Instead, he lowered his eyes and slowly stepped two paces closer to Summer. I was standing closest to her. As Bennett approached, a faint fragrance wrapped around me. Fir and citrus, cool with a thread of warmth. I knew that scent too well. It was the anniversary gift I had picked for him myself during our online relationship. I had visited so many fragrance counters, testing one bottle after another, before finally choosing that one. I pressed my lips together and glanced sideways without moving. Bennett was staring at the top of Summer’s head as if no one else existed. Dark emotion moved in his eyes. The joy of something lost and found again. The excitement of reunion. And even a trace of hurt from being abandoned. Summer held out her hand for a long time, but the man across from her did not respond. She couldn’t help reminding him softly. “Mr. Vale?” That finally seemed to pull him back to reality. He cleared his throat and accepted the cuff link without changing expression. “Thank you.” After a pause, his fingertips brushed lightly across Summer’s palm. Then Bennett added in a low voice. “Summer.” His voice was faintly hoarse. Summer’s face turned completely red. “Yes, I’m Summer, Mr. Vale…” “…” Bennett was silent for two seconds. Then he stared at Summer’s face for a full five minutes before finally turning away, reluctant. Only then did I dare breathe. When I touched my back, it was soaked with cold sweat. I dropped into my workstation, dazed for a long time, then pulled out my phone and searched Bennett’s name. A long string of financial news articles carrying his name appeared on the screen. I sucked in a sharp breath. 3 The big boss only came once every six months. And the moment he came, he fixed his eyes on an intern. A young, beautiful intern. My coworkers smelled gossip immediately and gathered around. Summer played with her hair, her voice soft as she answered everyone’s questions. “I don’t know Mr. Vale. This is my first time meeting him.” “Oh, wait, I just remembered. Mr. Vale went to my high school. He was a senior.” “I was kind of the school beauty back then. A lot of boys had crushes on me.” “Maybe…” Summer stopped there deliberately. The older employees immediately picked up the thread and began weaving a story about a secret crush that had lasted from school into the workplace. For a while, the whole office became unusually cheerful. “Oh, stop it. Don’t make things up.” Summer hurriedly interrupted their guesses, her tone reproachful. But there was a smug smile at the corner of her eyes. After that, I couldn’t hear another word they said. I stared blankly at the search results on my phone. Back then, my mother worked as a housekeeper for the Blake family. Summer lost a bet. So she encouraged my mother to help her steal my diary, the one full of my secret crushes. Then she posted it on the school bulletin board, took photos, and uploaded them to the school forum. Every student who passed by pointed at me and whispered jokes. I hated her so much my teeth ached. So I turned around, stole Summer’s photos and name, and started using them online to scam and cause trouble. Lost a game with a score of zero kills and twenty-eight deaths? I turned on my mic and said my name was Summer Blake. A stranger online threatened to come beat me up? I said without hesitation that my name was Summer Blake. Whenever trouble came, if anyone asked, I said I was Summer Blake. Viciously, I hoped that one day someone would show up and beat Summer senseless. But before Summer ever got beaten, I met Bennett. Bennett was well raised, sincere, and polite. He was also incredibly generous. His only flaw was that he was too intense. Looking at him just now, so elegant and immaculate, no one would imagine what he was like in private. But I knew. During the two years we dated online, after the first stage of getting to know each other, I almost had to listen to him over voice chat every day when he was alone and lost control. And whenever that happened, it was as if someone else possessed him. The graceful, noble image collapsed completely. His usually cool and proper voice would say things so filthy my face burned. Not a single line repeated. I would be so embarrassed I couldn’t take it anymore and scolded him for having no shame. He never got angry. He only laughed softly twice and coaxed me in that sweet voice. Later, Bennett seemed to sense something was wrong and firmly asked to meet. Only then did I suddenly remember that I had been using Summer’s identity all along. Panicked, I scrolled back through our chat history. The moment I found the sentence “My name is Summer,” my heart finally died. All those late-night confessions, all that tenderness exchanged through a screen, all those moments when I thought I was loved… They were all built on a lie. Even my name was fake. That night, I lay in bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. My heart felt like it had been gripped by a giant hand. I regretted it. I really regretted it. Why did I say I was Summer in the first place? I buried my face under the blanket and cried silently. I didn’t know how long I cried. When I finally looked up and saw myself in the mirror, eyes swollen, I realized in a daze. I was just ordinary. I didn’t have Summer’s bright, pretty face. I didn’t have her wealthy family. I didn’t even have her confidence or boldness. Just an ordinary face. An ordinary person. If I hadn’t used Summer’s photos, someone like Bennett, born above the clouds, would never have liked someone like me. A little bug in a gutter. In the end, I forced down the sourness in my chest. I sent Bennett one message. [I’m sorry.] Then I blocked and deleted him. On the third day after cutting contact, Bennett sent me an email. Only six words. Summer, don’t leave me. Every word was full of pleading and the helplessness of being abandoned for no reason. Unfortunately. I was not Summer. Thinking back to that, I couldn’t help shivering. When I looked up, all my coworkers were watching me. I pulled at the corner of my mouth. “What… what is it?” Everyone smiled without speaking. Only Summer walked over with an innocent expression. “Grace, didn’t you hear us just now?” “Everyone wants to try that new milk tea shop. Would you mind going to buy some for us?” “It’s only three or four streets away. You can ride a shared bike. It won’t take much effort.” Senior employees bullying interns was common. But Summer naturally blended in with the older employees. All because Bennett’s attitude toward her had been unusual. I looked at Summer. Then at the people behind her, all standing on her side, as if they would jump out and attack me the moment I refused. Finally, I nodded. “Okay.” Summer was very pleased by my obedience. She turned back with a smile. “Aw, everyone, don’t feel bad.” “Grace’s mom used to be our housekeeper. She grew up doing errands with her mom, so she’s best at running around.” “If you need anything delivered in the future, just ask her. She loves it.” Every time Summer arrived somewhere new, she would bring up the fact that my mother had worked for her family. She had done it for years. I was used to it. Besides, I did want to step out for air. I ignored her, picked up my phone, and turned around. But I accidentally bumped into a man. When I looked up, I realized it was the secretary who had been following Bennett earlier. 4 The male secretary seemed to be in a hurry. He shoved me aside impatiently. I wasn’t prepared and stumbled. My knee hit the table leg hard. Pain shot through me, and I sucked in a breath. The secretary showed no apology at all. He gave me a casual glance, then hurried to the supervisor. “Excuse me, which one of you is Miss Summer Blake? Mr. Vale needs to see her.” Summer heard her name. And when she heard Bennett was looking for her, she rushed over in two steps. “I’m Summer. I’m Summer Blake. What is it?” The secretary looked her over, then made his tone more polite. “The CEO’s office is short a secretary. Mr. Vale wants you to go upstairs and fill in for a while.” Summer froze. Then her voice rose sharply, echoing through the whole office. “Me? Mr. Vale wants me to work by his side? He told you himself?” The secretary frowned almost imperceptibly. Then he smiled and nodded. “Yes, you. Pack up and come with me.” Summer covered her mouth, unable to hide her joy. She happily went to grab her bag. “Mr. Lang, I don’t really have anything. I can go now.” “Good. Follow me.” Summer smiled with her lips pressed together. Then she deliberately walked around to my side, looking innocent. “Grace, move a little. Mr. Vale wants me on the thirty-fourth floor. You’re blocking my way.” “Work hard down here, okay? Maybe after another ten years, we can sit together on the thirty-fourth floor.” I said nothing. Suppressing the throbbing pain in my knee, I quietly moved aside. Summer stepped away in high heels, practically glowing as she followed the secretary. Behind me, my coworkers watched her leave with eager eyes. Then the office exploded. “Whoa. That new girl Summer isn’t going to become the future boss’s wife, is she?” “Even if she’s not the boss’s wife, she’ll be his girlfriend for a while. He’s obviously interested. He transferred her to his side as secretary.” “Grace, didn’t you come in with Summer? Do you know what’s going on between her and the boss?” Hearing my name, I swallowed the lump stuck in my throat. Then slowly shook my head. My voice was so soft it was almost inaudible. “No. I don’t know.” 5 Summer went to the thirty-fourth floor. For the time being, I became the only new intern left in the office. They gossiped about Summer for a while. Then lost interest. So they turned their attention back to me. “Grace, didn’t you say you were treating everyone to milk tea? You’re not going back on your word, are you?” “Grace, I need to pick up my son from school tonight. Help me finish this work first.” “Grace, I heard you graduated from a top university. Your work ability must be strong, right? Here, take this…” Before long, the folders in front of me piled into a small mountain. By the time I finally finished all that miscellaneous work, it was already past eight at night. I stretched and finally had time to check my phone. A message from my dad popped up immediately. [Kid, your mom and I saved on food and clothes to raise you.] [This internship wasn’t easy to get. You need to know what matters. Don’t compare food or clothes with other people. We can’t afford that.] [Get along with your coworkers. Some things pass if you just endure them. There’s no need to argue.] [Be diligent. Go to the company early every day. Clean up. Pour water for your leaders.] [After a while, your managers will definitely think more highly of you. Then becoming full-time will be within reach.] I stared at the screen, my finger hovering over the keyboard for a long time, not knowing what to reply. Finally, I sighed and opened Instagram, scrolling gently. Three hours ago, Summer had posted a selfie. She stood in front of a giant floor-to-ceiling window, flashing a peace sign at the camera. Her smile was bright and bold, like a pretty little fox. Caption: [Another hardworking day. Thanks to my big boss for supporting me.] My fingertip paused. I still couldn’t help zooming into the photo. In the reflection of the window, there was a silhouette. That person stood on the other side of the office. Turned slightly sideways, seemingly unaware of the camera, focused on something in thought. Even though it was only a blurry outline, I recognized him at once. Bennett. I stared at the photo for a long time, unable to look away. Until a voice sounded above me. “Why are you still here this late?” I jumped. I shot to my feet and grabbed the ashtray on the desk. A short, round man stood in front of me. He wore round black-rimmed glasses and looked at me curiously. I froze, then realized he looked familiar. After thinking for a moment, I remembered the supervisor had introduced him. He was also one of Bennett’s assistants. His last name was Harris. I quickly put down the ashtray and explained awkwardly, “Um, some work delayed me. I’m leaving now.” “Oh, okay.” Mr. Harris clutched his stomach, his whole face twisting in pain. He turned to leave, then seemed to remember something and turned back with a grimace. “By the way, you. Do you have a license? Can you drive?” I froze, then nodded. “I do, I…” Before I finished, his eyes lit up. He tossed a car key into my hand. “I can’t. My stomach is killing me. Boss’s car is downstairs.” “I’ll send you the address in a minute. Drive Mr. Vale’s car back for me, please, please. I’ll buy you dinner next time. Ow, it hurts.” “When you’re done, take a cab home. The company will reimburse it…” I stared at the car key in my hand, stunned. I waved quickly. “No, I can’t, I…” Mr. Harris no longer had time for me. He clutched his stomach and ran into the bathroom. 6 I stalled in my chair for a while. But Mr. Harris never came out. In the end, I accepted my fate and went downstairs with the car key. Only to discover the car parked below was a Rolls-Royce, the kind I had only ever seen on TV. I took a deep breath. First, I walked around the car once. Then I opened the door and sat in. I fastened my seat belt. Then reached to adjust the rearview mirror. Through the mirror, I saw a man sitting in the back seat with his eyes closed. High nose bridge, handsome features, thin lips pressed lightly together. Two buttons of his shirt collar were undone, revealing a section of collarbone and slightly flushed skin. Even asleep, he carried a lazy sensuality. He seemed to have been drinking. My mind buzzed. By reflex, I slapped a hand over the rearview mirror. An illusion. It had to be an illusion. I comforted myself in my head. Then gathered the courage to peek through my fingers. In the rearview mirror, the man had opened his eyes at some point. His dark gaze was fixed on me without blinking. Heavy and deep. Maybe it was my imagination. But at the moment our eyes met, I seemed to see his whole body stiffen. The hand resting on his knee curled slightly. Even his breathing seemed to slow beyond his control. I wanted to cry. I gripped the steering wheel tightly. It was too late to jump out and run. For all I knew, people would think I had stolen something. I quickly organized my thoughts and deliberately lowered my voice. “Mr. Vale, hello. Mr. Harris has a stomach problem, and he asked me to drive your car back. I didn’t know you were in the car…” He was silent for a moment, then looked away. He gave a faint “Mm” and closed his eyes again, brows slightly furrowed. Even though I knew he couldn’t possibly recognize me, I still secretly breathed in relief when he closed his eyes. But before that breath settled, another problem appeared. Wait. What kind of stupid car was this? Where did they hide the ignition? I searched everywhere and couldn’t find it. Sweat covered my forehead, and I wanted to turn the entire driver’s seat upside down. Just then, a low voice sounded beside my ear. The man behind me spoke again. “You don’t know how to drive it?” I sat up straight instantly. Embarrassed, I nodded, then quickly shook my head. My feelings were all mixed together, and I suddenly didn’t dare raise my head. But the more I thought about it, the more wronged I felt. Wasn’t it normal that I didn’t know how to drive this? Boss, don’t you know why I don’t know? The salary you pay me couldn’t even buy one wheel of this Rolls-Royce. It would be stranger if I knew how to drive it. When I got nervous, I couldn’t help picking at my fingers. I’d had this habit for more than twenty years. At that moment, my mind was blank, and my useless fingers had already twisted together. “Boss, I…” I looked up. And found his gaze fixed on my hands. My back went cold. I was just about to withdraw them when he looked away. He turned toward the window. His Adam’s apple moved. The car suddenly became very quiet. Carefully, I took out my phone and opened the browser to search. I had typed only half the question when a shadow fell over me. A faint citrus scent instantly wrapped around me. “Press here.” His voice sounded right beside my ear. Warm breath brushed lightly over my ear. My whole body froze. Too close. Close enough that I could feel the warmth coming through his shirt. Close enough that my hair almost brushed his jaw. I didn’t dare move. I even forgot to breathe. But Bennett only paused for a few seconds before sitting back in the rear seat as if nothing had happened. His expression was calm. Apparently, he really was just teaching me how to start the car. I tried to steady myself. Then started the engine mechanically. The whole drive was silent. Finally, we arrived at Bennett’s underground garage. Without another word, I jumped out of the car. “Boss, I’ll get going. Goodbye.” I didn’t wait for Bennett to respond. I ran. Completely unaware that behind me, the man narrowed his eyes and stared for a long time in the direction of my panicked escape. 7 I had chaotic dreams all night. The next morning, I washed my face casually and dragged myself to work with dark circles under my eyes. The moment I walked into the office, I discovered Summer, who should have been sitting on the thirty-fourth floor, sitting among the crowd and smiling brightly. “Yeah, yeah. The boss told me to come back first.” Her voice was still soft. Her delicately made-up face was flushed, and her eyes shimmered. “He said I had only just started and already went to the thirty-fourth floor, so I wouldn’t have time to make friends. He thought I’d be lonely.” “I think he meant he was afraid I wouldn’t fit in. I thought what he said made sense, so I came back for now.” As she spoke, she turned and saw me. She immediately came over and linked her arm through mine. “Baby, I’m back. Are you happy to see me?” The moment she acted so affectionate, I knew she was about to set me up again. I hadn’t slept well. The thought flashed through my head, and without thinking, I pulled my hand away. The atmosphere suddenly turned subtle. No one spoke. Summer still smiled at me. But her gaze had obviously cooled. Luckily, the supervisor came in and broke the deadlock. “Everyone’s here? Perfect. We’re having a team gathering tonight to welcome Grace and Summer to the team.” The moment she said that, the coworkers behind me perked up. Someone joked, “Team gathering? Is the big boss coming?” The supervisor waved with a smile. “The big boss is busy every second of the day. Why would he come to a gathering like ours?” “He won’t be there. Don’t worry. Have fun.” Everyone laughed, and the atmosphere finally eased. I lowered my head. Quietly swallowing the words I wanted to say to refuse.

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1 In my fifth year driving nights for a ride-hail service, I finally saved enough for a home down payment with my boyfriend. Near dawn after my last fare, a young woman got in and immediately burst into tears. “Don’t go home. Just drive anywhere.” She then sent me twenty thousand dollars on Venmo. “Sorry if I scared you. I just feel pathetic. Consider it payment for some peace and quiet. Just drive.” Staring at the screen, my eyes burned. I nodded. With this money, Nathan wouldn’t have to work himself to death or live on plain noodles anymore. From the back seat, she sobbed, “Three years together, and he’s always been perfect. But I found a note in his phone. He bought a river-view penthouse under a stranger’s name. When I asked, he dodged. Is he hiding another woman?” My heart clenched, but before I could speak, her phone rang. A man’s gentle voice answered, “Baby, stop the tantrum. It’s under my assistant’s name, decorated in French style for your proposal surprise next month. Didn’t expect you to find out early. It’s snowing; send your location, I’m coming.” I slammed the brakes. Ice flooded my veins. The voice belonged to my boyfriend of seven years. Half an hour ago, he’d texted: [Something came up at work. Don’t wait up.] After the call ended, the girl in the back seat clearly calmed down. She pulled out two tissues, wiped her tears, sniffled, and her voice already carried the spoiled softness of someone used to being cherished. “I really made a fool of myself just now.” “He’s always like this. He’s obviously preparing a surprise, but he refuses to say a word and scares me half to death.” My hands were slick with sweat around the steering wheel. I could not have mistaken that voice. Seven years. Even if Nathan only said a few words, I would know him instantly. And just thirty minutes earlier, he had told me a project had suddenly gone wrong and that he had to stay at the office all night. I had even worried he would ruin his health from overworking and replied: [Don’t keep eating instant noodles. I’ll bring you porridge tomorrow.] Thinking about it now, I felt like a joke. The girl in the back seat lowered her head and played with her phone, continuing on her own. “I’ve felt like something was off with him lately. He wouldn’t let me see his phone, and he was acting all mysterious. I really thought he was keeping someone on the side.” She laughed at herself. “Thank God it was a misunderstanding. Otherwise, I’d go insane.” My throat tightened. After a long while, I forced out a soft, “Mm.” As if making casual conversation, she suddenly asked, “Driver, are you still out this late to support your family?” I stared at the road ahead and said quietly, “I’m saving for my wedding.” She paused, then her tone gained a trace of unconscious superiority. “Your boyfriend is way too relaxed about you. He actually lets you drive alone this late?” “If I go out at night by myself, mine gets so nervous. Like tonight, I ran out on my own and he almost blew up my phone. There’s no way he’d let me work outside this late.” The more she spoke, the stiffer my hands became. For five years, I worked at a bakery during the day and drove at night. At my busiest, I slept only three or four hours a day. I took orders during storms. I drove through snow. I was harassed by drunk passengers, reported unfairly, and cheated out of fares. Once, at two in the morning, after my last ride, two drunk men followed me down an alley. I was terrified and called Nathan. He only said, “Call the police first. Be careful. I can’t leave right now.” Another time, I fell off my e-bike rushing to an order. My knee was covered in blood. I sent him a photo, and he replied, “Go to a pharmacy and clean it up. Don’t make me worry.” Back then, I still made excuses for him. He was busy. He couldn’t get away. That was normal. I even felt bad for him. Men had pressure too. I shouldn’t trouble him with everything. So I worked harder, took more orders, earned more money, and poured most of my income into our life. Rent, utilities, the expenses he said were caused by “tight cash flow on the project.” If I could help, I helped. I always thought we were enduring hardship together. It turned out I was the only one enduring it. The car was quiet for a while. Then the girl in the back seat smiled, sounding much lighter. “But he really is good to me.” “He’s busy with work, sure. But when it comes to me, I’m always his first priority.” I said nothing. Before long, a black luxury car stopped by the road. The girl’s eyes lit up. She immediately opened the door, ran over, and threw herself into the man’s arms. The man caught her, then wrapped her inside his coat, lowering his head to tuck her scarf properly around her neck. His movements were natural. Familiar. As if he had done it countless times. Through the rearview mirror, I saw him clearly. That face belonged to Nathan. I had been with him for seven years. We lived in the cheapest shared apartment, ate the cheapest takeout, and only went to the movies on discount days. But I had never seen him wear a coat that expensive. I had never seen him drive a car like that. He always said he was just starting out. Always said the project was tight. Always said, “Someday.” But now, under the streetlamp, he held another woman, shielded her from the wind, opened the car door for her, and even his eyes looked softer than they had ever looked at me. That was the kind of preference I had waited seven years for and never received. Before Olivia Hart got into the car, she came back and tapped on my window. I rolled it down. She smiled and waved her phone. “Thanks for tonight. I was in a bad mood and made you drive around for so long. Take this as a thank-you.” The payment notification rang a second later. It was a huge amount. Her mood had clearly improved. Even her voice sounded light. “Oh, by the way, that apartment is almost done. Once we officially move in, I’m definitely replacing the whole floor-to-ceiling window wall with the style I like. At night, with warm lights on and the river view outside, it’ll be so cozy.” My head buzzed. Because just last week, Nathan had leaned against my old sofa and told me, “When we can finally afford a place, it has to have a river view, floor-to-ceiling windows, and warm lights you like.” At the time, I had leaned against him and seriously imagined that future. So it was never our future. Olivia waved goodbye with a smile and got into the car. When Nathan closed the door for her, he finally looked up at me. The moment our eyes met, brief shock flashed through his gaze. But the next second, he acted as if he didn’t know me. Calmly, he walked around to the driver’s side, got in, and drove away. My phone lit up soon after. A message from Nathan. [Don’t make a scene.] [And don’t show up in front of her.] [We’ll talk about this later.] I stared at those three lines and felt cold all over. After I caught everything, his first reaction was not to explain. Not to feel guilty. It was to tell me not to make a scene. Not to frighten another woman. I was just about to start the car and leave when someone knocked on my window again. I looked up. Nathan had come back. He opened the passenger door and got in without asking. The first thing he said after sitting down was not an explanation. He looked at me, frowning. “Why did you get this ride tonight?” My heart sank all the way down. I had thought that at a moment like this, he would at least feel guilty for a second. Maybe say sorry. But reality was that he cared more about whether the situation had slipped out of his control. I looked at him, my voice hoarse. “That’s what you’re asking me?” “I’m asking you,” he said in a low voice. “How did you get her ride?” I laughed. “The app assigned it. Was I supposed to get your approval first?” “Nathan, how long have you been lying to me?” He was silent for a few seconds, as if calculating. Then he finally stopped pretending. “Ava, there are things I didn’t plan to let you know this early.” “So it’s all true.” I stared at him. “The apartment is real. The car is real. That woman is real.” “Yes.” He answered cleanly. That single yes shattered the last bit of hope I had left. “You stopped being the ordinary office worker I thought you were a long time ago, didn’t you?” He leaned back in the seat, face unreadable. “Several years ago. I used the Hart family’s resources to enter a new circle. My projects changed. My life changed.” My eyes reddened. “If you stopped planning a future with me that long ago, why drag me along? Why watch me save every dollar for a down payment?” He lowered his eyes, his tone calm. “I didn’t plan for things to become like this.” “What does that mean?” “You’ve always been stable. Easy.” He said, “You don’t cause trouble, and you don’t force me to make decisions. I just hadn’t figured out how to deal with it yet.” I stared at him as if I hadn’t understood. “Deal with me?” He looked at me and added one more sentence. “Anyway, you’ve always been willing to wait.” Willing to wait. Those words pierced right through me. So all the delays, all the neglect, all the promises had never been because he couldn’t bear to let me go. It was because I was too easy to fool. “Then what am I?” I asked. Nathan was silent for a moment, then answered directly. “At this point in my life, I can’t give up everything in front of me. Olivia can give me resources, status, and respectability. You can’t.” “So the answer was decided long ago.” I stared at him, trembling all over. “What about our seven years?” He looked ahead, his voice faint. “Love has never been the only standard for making decisions.” When he said that, I suddenly understood. In his heart, those seven years were worthless. All my companionship, my patience, the hard days I survived, all of it was just an unpresentable past to him. And he hadn’t returned to my car to apologize. He came to clean up the mess. Sure enough, he spoke again the next second. “Ava, I won’t mistreat you.” “I can give you money. I can arrange another place for you to live. You won’t have to work this hard anymore. You can do whatever you want.” Then he turned to look at me. “The condition is that you behave. Don’t make trouble in front of Olivia.” Listening to him, I suddenly laughed. So he wanted to buy off my seven years with money. I raised my hand and slapped him hard. The sound cracked through the car. His face turned to the side. A few seconds later, he looked back at me, his expression fully darkened. “Calm down.” “Calm down?” I stared at him. “Nathan, you lied to me for seven years, and now you want me to calm down?” He suppressed his anger. “Making this bigger helps no one. Online or in real life, nobody will stand with you.” I reached for my phone, wanting to record what he was saying. Nathan noticed and snatched it from my hand, slamming it hard against the car. The screen cracked. Something inside me sank with it. I asked him, “Does Olivia know about me?” His eyes flickered. Then he only said, “She doesn’t need to.” I shoved open the car door and got out. Nathan followed and grabbed me. “Where are you going?” “Let go of me!” During the struggle, everything in my bag spilled into the snow. My savings book. Receipts. Account ledgers. Utility bills. Densely written across them was every dollar I had saved over five years. Nathan looked down and saw them. For a moment, his face finally paused. But just then, his phone rang. The screen flashed Olivia. Without hesitation, he let go of me and turned to answer. “I’m here.” “It’s okay. I’ll be right back.” “It’s cold outside. Get in the car first.” His back was to me. His voice was gentle and patient. He sounded like a different person from the cold, calculating man who had just tried to pay me off. Standing in the snow, I suddenly couldn’t cry at all. I crouched and picked up the receipts one by one, the paper already wet from the snow. Not long after, someone in the driver group chat posted a link. The title read: Late-night female driver harasses wealthy boyfriend, loses control emotionally. I opened it, and my face went pale inch by inch. In the video, there was only footage of me rushing toward Nathan, grabbing him, breaking down and questioning him. All the parts where he admitted lying, told me not to make a scene, and tried to pay me off had been cut. The secretly filmed clip spread fast. By the time I returned to my rental room, my phone had not stopped buzzing. People were talking in the driver group chat. Private messages kept coming. Unknown numbers kept calling. Just the few lines showing in my notification bar were already filthy enough. [Are designated drivers all this messy?] [She doesn’t look like a decent woman.] [Failed at climbing the social ladder, huh?] Before long, Olivia posted an update too. The picture was a photo of her and Nathan together. The caption was short. [Sometimes kindness only teaches people to push further.] She didn’t name me. But everyone knew who she meant. Olivia already had plenty of followers, and soon the public opinion turned completely against me. My driver account was exposed. My ride history was dug up. Even the bakery where I worked during the day was identified. More and more hatred surged toward me. I called Nathan. Once. Twice. Three times. He never picked up. I sent him messages. [Come out and tell the truth.] [Tell them you lied to me.] After a long time, he finally replied. [Endure it for now. Don’t escalate the conflict.] That was all. Looking at those words, I gave up completely. He would not clarify anything for me. He would only let me bear it all, so another woman’s dignity could remain intact. At that exact moment, my mother called. Her voice was shaking as soon as she spoke. “Ava, what is going on online? Are you someone’s mistress?” “No!” I shot to my feet. “Mom, I’m not. I’m the one who was lied to.” But she couldn’t listen. She only cried and said, “Your father saw those things and got so angry his chest hurt. He’s been taken to the hospital!” My mind went blank. When I rushed to the hospital, Dad was already lying in a bed. The doctor said his emotions had fluctuated too violently and his heart couldn’t take it. I had just reached the door when Mom turned, saw me, and slapped me across the face. “Your father’s health was already bad. How could you cause something like this?” “We cared about our reputation our whole lives. I never thought we’d grow old and still be pointed at because of you.” Holding my face, I burst into tears. All these years, I had been afraid they would worry, so I never dared tell them how hard my life really was. They complained that I had dated so many years without marrying, but behind my back, they still lived frugally and secretly gave me money. They were afraid I would suffer outside. But in the end, what I brought them was this kind of humiliation. I was about to explain when hurried footsteps came from the end of the corridor. Nathan had arrived. After entering, he didn’t look at my father in the hospital bed. He grabbed me and dragged me out of the room. In the corridor, he lowered his voice and demanded, “Why do you have to make this bigger?” I stared at him, finding it absurd. Even now, all he cared about was the impact. “I made this bigger?” I sneered. “Wasn’t the secret video posted by someone on your side? Didn’t Olivia’s post confirm everything against me? My dad is lying in there now, and you’re asking me why I made this bigger?” Nathan frowned. “Olivia is in a terrible state because of last night. If you keep provoking her, things will only get worse.” “She’s in a terrible state?” I asked. “Then what is my dad?” His face darkened little by little. “The Hart family has many partnerships with this hospital. Your father’s follow-up specialists, medication channels, hospitalization arrangements, none of that is something you can solve just because you want to.” “Ava, don’t be stubborn. If you insist on fighting head-on now, your family will be the ones who suffer.” My whole body stiffened. At that moment, my mother also came out of the room. She had clearly heard the latter half. Her face turned pale. She grabbed my hand, her voice trembling. “Ava, don’t be stubborn… save your father first…” At that moment, the last thing holding me upright was torn open. With red eyes, I looked at Nathan. “What exactly do you want me to do?” He said only one sentence. “Apologize.” I thought he meant privately. Only when I was taken there did I realize I had still thought too well of them. It wasn’t a hospital room. It wasn’t an ordinary lounge. It was a rest hall temporarily arranged like an interview set. Lights, cameras, livestream equipment. Everything had been prepared in advance. Olivia sat in the center. The moment she saw me, her eyes reddened. “Miss Reed, why do you have to do this?” “Nathan and I have been together for three years. Our relationship has always been stable. You knew we were about to get engaged, so why did you deliberately cause trouble in front of me?” The moment she opened her mouth, she placed herself in the role of victim. People around her immediately chimed in. “Look what she’s done to Olivia.” “She ruined a perfectly good relationship.” “Some people will do anything to climb up.” Every camera pointed at me. I turned to look at Nathan. He stood to the side and did not stop them. His silence was consent. I asked him, “Are you really going this far?” He avoided my eyes and said only, “Your father is still waiting for results at the hospital.” I looked at him and suddenly felt that for seven years, I had loved a stranger I had never truly known. My throat was blocked so badly it hurt, but I still forced my mouth open. “I crossed the line.” “I harassed him.” “I tried to destroy your relationship.” Every word felt like peeling my own skin off. Even so, Olivia was still not satisfied. She clutched her chest and said softly, “Now, whenever I see her standing, I think of last night.” Everyone fell silent for a moment. Then Nathan spoke. “Kneel.” For a second, I thought I had misheard. I raised my head and looked at him, my mind completely blank. His voice grew colder. “Ava Reed. Don’t make me say it again.” I slowly clenched my hands. In the end, I knelt. The sound of my knees hitting the tile was loud. It felt like my last scrap of dignity shattering. The cameras instantly turned fully toward me. Olivia looked down at me, finally showing a hint of satisfaction, but she still refused to stop. “Bow your head to the floor.” I lowered my head. Once. Twice. Three times. My forehead struck the floor hard. Soon the skin split, and blood ran down my brow. Only when Olivia finally said, “That’s enough,” did Nathan have the cameras removed. But just then, my phone suddenly vibrated wildly. It was the hospital. “Miss Reed, your father’s condition is critical. Please come quickly.” My head roared. I ran out like I had gone mad. When I stumbled back to the hospital, the hallway outside the room was already chaos. My mother sat collapsed on the floor, crying so hard she was nearly fainting. On the bed, my father’s face had been covered with a white sheet. I rushed over and lifted the sheet. When I saw his gray, cold face, my mouth opened, but no sound came out. A nurse hurriedly explained, “During the resuscitation, the doctor on duty was temporarily transferred. The new doctor was delayed getting here.” I jerked my head up. The next second, my mother collapsed too. “Family member down!” “Quick, get her into emergency!” The corridor filled with footsteps and crying. I knelt beside my father’s body and watched my mother get wheeled into emergency. It felt as if everything inside me had been hollowed out. And in the middle of that chaos, I saw someone standing not far away.

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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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