Category: English

1 I spent three years chasing my arranged fiancé. But after he moved to London, his attitude toward me suddenly did an about-face. During our online relationship, his messages grew increasingly bold. “Baby… let me hear you. Just a little whisper.” “I want to show you what you do to me.” I’d bury my face in the pillows, blushing furiously, letting out soft, quiet whimpers into the receiver. Then came his welcome-back party. I was stuck in traffic and running late. Just as I was about to push the door open, Josh’s cold, mocking voice drifted through the heavy oak doors of the private club. “Oh, Rachel? She’s way too clingy. I can barely breathe around her.” “Good thing I had my best bro handle the online stuff for me while I was away. She didn’t suspect a thing.” “She’s chased me since we were kids. Way too easy. There’s zero thrill in it.” “Besides, I’m not ready to settle down yet.” I froze, my hand tightening on the brass door handle. Inside the private suite, the guys burst into laughter. “Damn, Josh, you’re savage.” “But handing Rachel over to Dave? You’ve got some nerve. She’s a sweet girl, she’s no match for a guy like Dave.” Josh flicked his lighter, puffing lazily on a cigarette. “Relax. You know Dave. Good girls aren’t his type anyway.” Someone scoffed. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” “With a face like Rachel’s, who wouldn’t want a taste?” “She looks so pure, but her body is insane. Most guys wouldn’t be able to hold back.” “If she were my girl, I’d be grinning from ear to ear.” “Remember back in high school? When those guys harassed her, you chased them off. What if, and I’m just saying what if, Dave can’t resist?” Josh’s brow furrowed slightly. Sensing the shift in the room, another guy quickly laughed and cut in. “What are you even thinking? Hands off Rachel. Besides, her whole world revolves around Josh. Even if Dave stripped naked in front of her, she wouldn’t even blink.” Josh’s tense expression softened. “By the way, Josh,” a friend asked, “you had plenty of fun in Europe. What about Rachel? She is your fiancée.” “When you were kids, you spoiled her so much. You wouldn’t let anyone else date her, and you took her everywhere. Why the sudden shift?” Josh looked down, ashes falling from his cigarette. “Treating her like a little sister was fine. But thinking about her as my wife… I don’t know, it just feels suffocating.” “She was always so controlling. No dating, no getting too close to other girls. I’m a man, not a monk.” “And Rachel is always there, trailing after me. It’s too easy. There’s no challenge. If I marry her now, I’ll feel like my life is already over. I need to see what else is out there.” Someone chuckled. “No wonder you slept your way through London. You were starved.” “If Rachel finds out, she’ll cry her eyes out.” Josh shot him a cold look, his voice dropping. “No need to hurt her. Just keep my wild days quiet.” 2 It took every ounce of my willpower not to slam that door open and scream at Josh. Josh and I grew up together. Our families were from the same wealthy gated community, and our parents were incredibly close. I had realized my feelings for him early on. Ever since I was a little girl, I spent my days trailing after him like a shadow. Josh never seemed to mind. He always looked out for me like an older brother. When my parents told me we were arranged to marry, my first reaction wasn’t embarrassment. It was pure, unadulterated joy. Finally, he was going to be mine. But Josh’s reaction was the exact opposite. He started avoiding me. His texts grew shorter, and whenever I asked to meet up, he was always too busy. Sometimes I would wait outside his house. I knew he was home, but he’d have the housekeeper come down and tell me he was out. Eventually, he fled the country to study abroad. I cried myself to sleep for days. But shortly after he landed in London, his attitude changed. He became warm and attentive, texting me constantly. Sometimes, it felt like he was actively trying to seduce me. As time went on, our chats became incredibly bold. “Baby, just got out of the shower. Only wearing a towel.” “Want to see my abs?” “Do you like it here?” “Want me to drop the towel a little lower?” Unable to resist, my mouth dry, I would type back: “Yes, I want to see. Lower. Drop it a bit.” Staring at those highly charged, sensual photos, I was completely breathless. I never knew Josh’s body was so hot, so incredibly well-built. And even his… well, he was exceptionally gifted. He coaxed me into becoming bolder. I started calling him baby and saying dirty things I never would have dared to utter before. Occasionally, the person behind the screen would ask: “Baby, do you know Dave?” I was always a little confused. “Who? Not really. Why bring him up, baby?” He would stay silent for a long time before replying: “Nothing.” Once, I had a severe asthma attack and collapsed in my apartment. After graduation, I had moved out to live alone. Before losing consciousness, I managed to send a desperate text to Josh’s account. Not long after, I felt strong arms lifting me up. Someone was whispering in my ear, his voice frantic and shaking, but I couldn’t make out the words. When I finally woke up in the hospital, a man was sitting by my bedside. His features were so strikingly handsome he barely looked real. Compared to the men I knew, Josh was attractive, but this man was in a league of his own. I stared at him, dazed. Seeing me open my eyes, his tense shoulders relaxed. “How are you feeling? Any pain?” “Who… are you?” I rasped. He paused, then replied quietly, “Dave. My name is Dave.” I asked how he knew I was in trouble. He explained that Josh had called him and asked him to check on me. I believed him. I didn’t pry any further and sincerely thanked him. From that day on, Dave showed up constantly under the guise of Josh’s concern. He cooked my meals and cleaned my place. He was an incredible cook. Every time I tried to politely ask him to leave, he would stuff my mouth with delicious food. Eventually, I gathered enough resolve to say, “You don’t need to keep coming over. I can take care of myself.” Dave only smiled. “Josh is terrified you’ll get hurt. He asked me to look after you.” I felt a blush creep up my neck. “He really said that?” “Yeah. Ask him yourself if you don’t believe me.” I immediately texted Josh’s account to double-check. The reply came instantly: “Yes, I asked him to. You live alone and have asthma. I can’t rest easy, so let him watch over you.” I fell for it hook, line, and sinker. I had intended to keep things strictly platonic and distant with Dave. Until last night. A massive storm was raging outside. Worried about him driving back in the torrential rain, I insisted he stay the night in my guest room. Late that night, I got up to get a glass of water. As I walked past Dave’s room, I noticed the door wasn’t fully closed. I went to shut it quietly, but the sight inside pinned me to the spot. He was holding a pair of my white lace panties. They were the ones I had lost a week ago and couldn’t find anywhere. Dave’s eyes were tightly shut, his head tilted back. His throat bobbed as he let out low, repressed whimpers. He was holding the lace as if it were my hand, using it to touch himself, doing the very things he was too afraid to ask of me. I stood frozen behind the door, my heart hammering against my ribs. That was the moment I realized Dave had feelings for me. But since he was Josh’s best friend, I didn’t want to cause a scene. In the end, I pretended I hadn’t seen anything. Today, at the welcome-back dinner, I had planned to pull Josh aside, tell him about Dave’s behavior, and ask him to keep Dave away from me. I never expected to hear the truth standing outside that door. My eyes stung. I thought Josh had changed for the better while he was away. I had no idea he found me so annoying that he threw his account to Dave, letting another man play with my feelings. From start to finish, the two of them had conspired to make a fool out of me. 3 I wiped my tears, refusing to let them fall, and walked back to my empty apartment. When I opened the door, I saw Dave in the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up, hand-washing my underwear. The memory of last night flashed in my mind. My head throbbed. I marched over and snatched the lace panties out of his hands. “I told you to just throw them in the washing machine.” Dave looked at me, his gaze gentle and persuasive. “The machine doesn’t clean them properly. Let me do it.” “I can wash my own clothes.” “Be good, Rachel. I do a better job.” The words, I have a fiancé, this isn’t right, hovered on the tip of my tongue. But I swallowed them down. A fiancé? Did Josh even count anymore? He had practically handed me over to Dave to play with. A bitter wave washed over me. Because of my engagement, I had spent years being incredibly careful. I kept a strict distance from any other man. Even when Dave came to look after me, I never crossed the line. I never wore my revealing silk slips around him. I timed my showers so he wouldn’t be near the bathroom. I maintained a careful three-foot bubble around myself. And yet, Josh thought I was too easy. Boring. He wanted to sleep around with all kinds of women to figure out what he liked. If he could play, why couldn’t I? To be fair, Dave was gorgeous and attentive. His family’s influence was even greater than Josh’s. Playing with him wasn’t a loss at all. I tossed the panties back into the basin. “Fine, wash them.” “Since you love doing this so much, you can handle them from now on.” Dave paused, looking up at me in pleasant surprise, as if he had just received a massive reward. “Are you serious?” I smiled. “Of course. You’re doing me a favor, I should be thanking you.” “I’m going upstairs to change into a nightgown. Wash whatever I leave behind, okay?” Dave’s throat bobbed. He let out a low, breathless laugh. “With pleasure.” 4 I peeled off my restrictive clothes and slipped into a loose, comfortable nightgown. In the past, whenever Dave was over, I’d wear conservative, stifling outfits, making sure everything was properly buttoned up. Now, I didn’t care anymore. At dinner, Dave laid out a feast of my favorite dishes. I kept my head down, eating quietly. Dave reached over with a napkin, naturally wiping a smudge of sauce from the corner of my mouth. “Rachel, can I stay here tonight?” I looked up, meeting his eyes. He quickly explained, “You’ve had two asthma attacks this month. I’m really worried about you being alone.” Before today, I would have rejected him without a second thought. But today was different. I swallowed my food and said, “They have been happening more often lately. I’ve been a bit anxious too.” “It would make me feel a lot better if you stayed.” Dave smiled, a dark, possessive spark flaring in his eyes. Later that night, while he was in the shower, I took the opportunity to unlock his phone. I found his chat history with Josh. Josh: “Where are you?” Dave: “At Rachel’s house.” Josh: “What the hell are you doing there?” Dave: “Her asthma’s been acting up. I don’t feel safe leaving her alone.” Josh: “Fine. But let me remind you, I asked you to watch her, not cross the line.” Dave: “You don’t want to marry her anyway. What’s the matter? Had your fun abroad, and now you want to come back to your old toy?” Dave: “Aren’t you afraid she’ll find out?” Josh: “My business with her is none of your concern.” Josh: “Besides, Rachel is so clingy she can’t survive without me. Even if she finds out, a few sweet words and she’ll be wagging her tail right back to me. I can’t shake her off even if I try.” I stared at those words for a long time. My chest ached, but I forced the tears back. He wasn’t worth a single tear. Ten minutes later, the bathroom door opened. I took a deep breath, locked the screen, and placed his phone exactly where I found it. That night, I took a shower and changed into a sultry, deep red silk slip dress. It was short, barely covering the curve of my thighs, with a plunging neckline. My friend had bought it for me, teasing that my body was too good to waste on flannel pajamas. I had left it in the back of my closet with the tags still on. Tonight, I tore the tags off. I didn’t dry my hair. Water droplets slid down my collarbone, dampening the silk over my chest. The wet fabric clung to my curves. I walked out barefoot. Dave was sitting on the couch, drying his hair. When he looked up and saw me, his movements froze. It was only for a split second before he looked away, but I caught the heavy rise and fall of his chest. His throat convulsed. Pretending not to notice, I walked into my bedroom, leaving the door open, and curled up in the armchair. The hem of my dress rode up, exposing the smooth length of my thighs. I snapped a photo of myself and sent it to Josh’s, no, Dave’s account. “Baby, just got out of the shower. Only wearing this slip.” “Nothing underneath.” “Want to see me pull it up?” The reply came instantly. “Since when did my girl learn to be such a tease?” I smiled, typing back: “You’re the bad influence here. I learned from the best.” We texted back and forth until the early hours of the morning. The next day, when Dave came in with breakfast to wake me up, he saw me still wearing the red slip. His ears turned bright red instantly. 5 Since I had missed Josh’s first welcome-back party, our mutual friends organized another dinner to make up for it. At the restaurant, I sat right between Josh and Dave. The moment I sat down, Josh turned to look at me, his eyes lingering on my face. “You look much better than before.” “Do I?” I asked casually. “Yeah. You used to look so fragile.” He paused, adding, “Looks like Dave has been taking good care of you.” I smiled. “He really has. I have you to thank for sending him to me.” One of our friends, clearly looking for drama, grinned and asked, “Hey Rachel, notice any changes in Josh since he came back?” Josh shot him a warning glare. I set my fork down. “Actually, yes. A huge change.” Both Josh and Dave stiffened. I looked down, playing shy. “He’s been so much sweeter to me. I think I’ve fallen even harder for him. I look forward to our late-night chats every single night.” Josh blinked, looking slightly bewildered, while Dave’s expression turned incredibly dark. Soon, the food was served. Josh started boasting about his wild adventures in Europe. I didn’t care to listen, reaching instead for the spicy shrimp. But I ran into a problem. My freshly manicured nails made it impossible to peel them. Without thinking, I pouted. “Baby, my nails are too long. Can you peel them for me?” Josh frowned, about to reach over. But Dave, sitting closer, naturally pulled the plate toward himself. He picked up a shrimp, his voice dripping with affection. “Of course. I’ve got you. You’re so spoiled.” The table went dead silent. Everyone froze. Sensing the heavy tension, someone laughed nervously. “Rachel was asking Josh, Dave. You must have misheard.” Dave’s fingers stilled. He looked up, his voice cool and even. “Ah. Must have.” But he didn’t put the shrimp down. Josh’s face darkened significantly. His eyes darted between Dave and me, his tone dropping to sub-zero temperatures. “If he wants to do it, let him.” Dave smirked. “If you say so.” He went right back to peeling. For the rest of the dinner, I didn’t have to lift a finger. He peeled the shrimp, dipped them in sauce, and lined them up on my plate. He picked out the bones from the fish before placing it in my bowl. He even blew on the soup to cool it down before sliding it over. Dave did all of this with an ease that suggested it was the most natural thing in the world. And I accepted his pampering without a shred of guilt. I took a bite of the shrimp and smiled at him. “Dave, you’re amazing at this. It tastes great.” To my left, Josh was gripping his silverware so hard his knuckles turned white. He tried to start a conversation with me several times, but I ignored him, keeping my focus entirely on Dave. Dave placed a piece of fish in my bowl. “Try this one. I ordered it specifically for you.” “How did you know I liked this?” Dave’s lips curved into a soft smile. “You ate a lot of it when I made it at your place last week. I remembered.” Josh slammed his chopsticks onto the table. I acted as if I hadn’t heard a thing, quietly sipping my soup. By the end of the meal, I hadn’t spoken a single word to Josh. His face looked like a thunderstorm, dark and suffocating. Finally, as the waiter cleared the plates and brought out the dessert, Josh spoke up. “Rachel, we need to talk about our engagement.” I finally looked at him. “Go ahead.” Seeing my attention on him, Josh’s expression softened slightly, his tone gentler. “I don’t think we should rush into marriage right away.” “We should give each other some space and time. What do you think?” I nodded easily. “Sure. I agree.” He assumed I was just being difficult. “Don’t be childish, Rachel. I always saw you as a sister, so adjusting to the idea of you as my wife is going to take time. It’s only normal…” Then, my words finally registered. He froze. “Wait. You agree?” His face fell completely. “Rachel, what is that supposed to mean?” I tilted my head, looking innocent. “Exactly what I said. You’re right. We need space and time. I agree. Is there a problem?” Josh opened his mouth, but no words came out. He had clearly never expected me to let him off the hook so easily. 6 After dinner, the few glasses of wine I drank began to catch up to me. I felt lightheaded. Dave supported me by my waist. “I didn’t drink. I’ll drive you home.” Josh stepped in front of us, blocking our path. “And why are you the one driving her home?” I blinked at him sleepily. “Josh, you’re being so weird.” “Didn’t you ask Dave to take care of me?” “We’re living together now anyway. Didn’t you agree to that too?” Josh snapped, “I never agreed to—” He cut himself off, swallowing the rest of his sentence. After all, he was the one who had handed his account to Dave. He was the one with the guilty conscience. He had no choice but to watch us walk away, leaving him standing under the neon lights of the club. When we got back to the apartment, I slumped onto the couch. Dave immediately went to the kitchen to pour me some warm water. I curled up against the cushions, a small smirk playing on my lips. I pulled out my phone and sent a text. “Baby, I want to wear a catgirl outfit for you.” “Here are a few styles I like. Help me choose one.” Dave walked back into the living room, holding the glass. Just as he set it down, his phone buzzed. He pulled it out and opened the chat. The sheer visual impact of the photos made his eyes widen. The model in the pictures wore a strapless, tight black dress, complete with a cat tail, black ears, and a delicate gold bell around her neck. Beneath the photos was my text: “Baby, do you want to see me in this?” He looked from the screen to me, his ears turning a furious shade of crimson. His imagination was clearly running wild. He cleared his throat, trying to sound casual. “I’m going to use the restroom.” I smiled. “Go ahead.” Dave stayed in the bathroom for an exceptionally long time. When he finally walked out, his eyes were slightly rimmed with red, and his breathing was shallow and uneven. He looked like a man who had just committed a very delicious crime. I grinned, typing out one last message. “Baby, let’s do a video call. We can choose together.” He froze, panic flashing across his face. He quickly typed back: “Wait.” But I didn’t wait. I hit the video call button. In the quiet living room, Dave’s phone suddenly blared with the incoming call ringtone. He slowly turned his head to look at me, his eyes wide. I waved my phone at him, tilting my head. “Dave, you were in the bathroom for so long. Did your hand do a good job? Why aren’t you answering?”

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1 On my twenty-fourth birthday, a strange app materialized on everyone’s phones in my family. Inside lived another version of me. She went by Tina, too, but she was lightyears ahead of me. Mom’s bakery had been bleeding money for three years. The other Tina casually tweaked a recipe, and the shop sold out by noon. Dad had failed his tenure bid three times; she rewrote his presentation, and the dean called him in for a private meeting the very next day. Tristan’s tech startup was on the brink of collapse; she spent ten minutes restructuring his pitch deck, securing a cool twenty million from venture capitalists. From then on, Mom asked her for new recipes every single day. Dad printed out screenshots of her advice like scripture. Tristan wouldn’t even buy an engagement ring without consulting her first. On my twenty-fifth birthday, before the cake was even cut, Mom stared at her phone and whispered, “Does she have to stay trapped in that screen?” Dad replied in a low murmur, “Can we bring her over? For real?” Tristan tapped the customer service button. [Apply for Parallel Life Exchange?] The prompt read: [Upon exchange, the Tina of this world will be transferred to the alternate world. Confirm?] There wasn’t a shred of hesitation. I watched their fingers press “Confirm.” My nails dug so hard into my palms that they drew blood. I forced a fragile smile. “Since you love her so much, don’t look back.” The next second, red text flashed across the screen: [Exchange protocol initiated. Countdown: 7 days.] The living room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence after the countdown appeared. Mom let out a soft, shaky breath. Realizing I was still standing there, she cut a small slice of cake and held it out to me. “It’s your birthday. Don’t be bitter. Have something sweet.” I stared at her, frozen. For the past year, I had been a ghost in my own home. When I spoke, she looked right through me, her eyes glued to the screen. But it hadn’t always been like this. When I was a kid and caught a fever, she’d hold me through the night. When I complained the frosting was too rich, she’d scrape it off and give me the soft sponge cake underneath. She used to say, “The sweetest bite always goes to my Tina.” I thought those embers of love had died long ago. But as she held out the fork, I still leaned in and took a bite. The cream was velvety, swallowing down with a bitter, suffocating lump in my throat. Mom smiled, thinking I was placated. “Once she gets here, she’ll help scale up the bakery first, get your dad his tenure, and stabilize Tristan’s firm. Once everything is perfect, we’ll bring you back. You’ll be our little princess again.” Princess. I hadn’t heard that word in a year. Dad sat nearby, his tone firm and unyielding. “We aren’t abandoning you. We’re just letting someone more capable handle the heavy lifting for a while. You’ll benefit from this too, in the end.” My head was bowed, picking at my cuticles. The familiar cold tide of abandonment washed over me. Tristan knelt before me, pulling a small box from his pocket. He slipped the ring onto my ring finger. “My heart will always belong to you, Tina.” His voice was a low, comforting rumble. Tears spilled onto his hand. I almost begged him: If your heart is mine, why are you trading me away? But as I wiped my eyes, I saw the ring. Champagne gold, encrusted with a halo of tiny pavé diamonds. It was gorgeous, but it wasn’t me. I loved simple, classic platinum bands. Years ago, standing in front of a jewelry display, he swore he’d remember. Now, he smiled with absolute ease. “She picked it,” he said. “I didn’t ask some random girl. I asked the other you. So it still counts as being faithful, right?” My fingers curled tightly. I rubbed the pad of my thumb against the sharp edges of the diamonds. The stinging pain was a welcome distraction from the hollow ache in my chest. He couldn’t even love me without asking her first. Then, a voice note from the app chimed. “Did I make Tina unhappy? If she’s truly hurting, I don’t have to come.” Mom grabbed her phone instantly. “Tina, sweetheart, don’t think like that!” Dad added, “Choosing the optimal path is never a mistake.” Tristan coos, “She’s always been overly sensitive. Don’t let it get to you.” I sat at the table, the sweet taste turning entirely to ash. My tongue grew numb. An itch began to crawl up my neck, hot and blooming across my collarbone. I finally recognized the subtle fruity tang masked by the heavy cream. “Mom, is there mango in the cake?” Mom froze. “Just a splash of puree. She said it would elevate the flavor… I forgot you were allergic.” She finally remembered. I saw the brief flicker of panic in her eyes. Despite the burning itch on my skin, a pathetic spark of hope flared in my chest: hope that, before I was banished, they might still show they cared. But her next words froze that spark solid. “What if your face scars? Will she be upset when she takes over your body?” I gasped for air, spots dancing before my eyes. Tristan supported me, offering to take me to the ER. But his phone buzzed, and he immediately looked down to text her back: Don’t worry, it won’t affect you. I pulled my hand back from his grip. At the hospital, the ER doctor asked, “Didn’t her family know she has a severe mango allergy?” Mom started to make excuses. I cut her off: “They forgot. A long time ago.” When we got home, the antihistamines made me drowsy. Standing in the foyer, I heard Dad on the phone upstairs: “It has to be fully remodeled within seven days. She likes cream-white. She needs a large desk. Replace the bed and wardrobe. The new Tina will be here soon.” I dragged myself up the stairs and pushed open my bedroom door. Mom was tossing my pillows and blankets into a box. My old star-shaped nightlight was thrown carelessly into a cardboard bin. I rushed over and grabbed it, my hands shaking. Dad had built that for me. He used to stroke my hair and say he wanted me to sleep under the stars every night. “What are you doing?” Mom glanced back. “Oh, you’re back. Good. Pack up your knick-knacks. The contractors are coming to measure the room tomorrow morning.” “Where am I supposed to sleep?” Mom answered naturally. “Isn’t there a cot in the basement study? Stay there for now.” The study had no windows. Just Dad’s old army surplus cot. Stacks of dusty files piled in the corner, a flickering lightbulb. I remembered being terrified of the dark as a child. Dad had lined my walls with warm nightlights. “My little girl’s room should look exactly how she wants it,” he’d said. Now, Dad walked in with a blueprint. “Cream-white is much more sophisticated than this. Your old room was too childish anyway.” I tried to stop him from ripping down the old nightlights. He frowned and shoved my hand away. “You’re leaving for another world in a few days. Why are you clinging to this junk?” My hand was still swollen from the hives. I stumbled against the sharp corner of the wall, a sharp pain radiating up my arm. Mom took a step forward. I thought she was going to help me up, but she just held Dad back and glared at me coldly. “Don’t touch her. Her hives haven’t cleared yet. If you bruise her, what will she think when she gets here?” I froze. Dad grumbled, pointing a finger at me. “Still causing trouble, even when you’re on your way out.” I let out a soft, hollow laugh. “Doesn’t she have her own parents? Her own boyfriend over there? She talks to you guys until midnight every night. Doesn’t that strike you as pathetic?” The hallway went dead silent. Mom’s face paled. “How can you be so vicious, Tina?” Dad’s voice turned ice-cold. “A brilliant girl is willing to bless this family, and you call it pathetic? We should be thanking our lucky stars.” Tristan walked in just then, carrying a takeout bag with breakfast. Seeing me standing in the hallway looking ghostly, he frowned. “Arguing again?” He handed me a warm cup of coffee. “You had a severe reaction last night. Drink something warm.” My fingers brushed the warm paper cup. Tears pricked my eyes again. I thought he at least cared about my health. Then he dropped the hammer. “Don’t go into the office today. I’ve already requested a long-term leave of absence for you.” I stared at him. “What do you mean?” Tristan avoided my gaze. “You won’t be here in seven days. Keeping you on the project isn’t fair to the firm.” I snatched my phone. I had already been removed from the company Slack. A message from my supervisor sat in my inbox from thirty minutes ago: Tina, your family informed us that your mental health has been unstable recently and you can’t continue working. Your resignation has been processed. Please mail back your ID badge. Mental instability. Resignation. Each word felt like a needle driving straight into my temples. “Who did this?” Mom pursed her lips. “I had Tristan take care of it. You’re leaving anyway. No point in hogging the position.” Dad added, “Leave with some dignity. Don’t make a scene and embarrass us.” My hands shook violently. That was a job I had pulled eighty-hour weeks for three years to secure. They threw it away with a casual “you’re leaving anyway.” Tristan reached out to steady me. “Tina, don’t be like this. When you come back, I’ll take care of you.” I stepped back. “Do you honestly believe I’m ever coming back?” Nobody answered. Tristan’s hand hung suspended in the air before slowly dropping. I took the coffee back to the windowless study. The cot was narrow, and my hives throbbed against the warm paper cup. I desperately needed to talk to Cassidy, my best friend. For the past year, while my family revolved around the other Tina, Cassidy was the only one who listened. Last New Year’s Eve, while my parents were on a video call with the other Tina, Cassidy sat with me on the curb outside a 24-hour diner, sharing a plate of greasy fries. If things ever get too bad, you can always crash at my place, she had said. I tapped her contact and held down the voice message button. I cried for sixty seconds straight, pouring my heart out. The moment I let go, a red exclamation mark popped up. Message undelivered. I stared in disbelief. I checked our group chats. Nothing. I had been removed from the college group, the work group, even our casual dinner group. I dialed Cassidy’s number. First time, ignored. Second time, declined. On the fifth try, she finally picked up. She let out a harsh, bitter laugh. “Why are you calling me, Tina?” My throat squeezed. “Cassidy, it’s me.” “I know it’s you,” her voice trembled with cold fury. “Isn’t this what you wanted? You told us you were moving on to a higher tier of life and didn’t want to be dragged down by average friends. Did you really have to post all our secrets in the group chat?” I went rigid. “I didn’t do that.” “You did. Last night. You blasted my family stuff, called Lily’s relationship toxic, said we’re all pretending to be happy while our lives are a mess. Then you told us never to contact you again.” My jaw slackened. I couldn’t make a sound. Last night, I was hooked to an IV at the ER. My phone was in Mom’s purse. “Tina, if you didn’t want to be our friend anymore, you could have just said so,” Cassidy spat. “You didn’t have to drag us through the dirt.” The line went dead. I stared at the black screen, my heart hammering against my ribs. I had nothing left. Not even a friend to turn to. I stormed out of the study. Mom was discussing wardrobe sizes with the contractor. I slammed the phone onto the table. “Why did you use my phone to send those messages?” Mom frowned. “When she gets here, we can’t have random, messy people crowding her space and asking questions.” Dad didn’t even look up from his blueprints. “The simpler your social circle, the smoother the transition.” A hysterical laugh escaped my lips. “So you quit my job, cut off my friends, and kicked me out of my own room.” Mom’s expression soured. “Why must you be so difficult, Tina? You’re leaving anyway. Why do you have to make this harder for us?” Then her eyes landed on my wrist. It was a vintage silver heirloom cuff, given to me by my grandmother right before she passed. Mom grabbed my arm. “Take this off too.” I jerked back. “No! Grandmother gave this to me.” Mom gripped my wrist tight, her fingers squeezing my bones. “Genevieve mentioned she loves vintage silver. She has the grace to pull it off. It’ll look much better on her.” The pain made my fingers tremble. Dad stepped over, pinning my shoulder down with an impatient sigh. “It’s just a bracelet. Stop throwing a tantrum.” Mom poured dish soap over my hand and forcibly yanked the metal cuff down. It scraped against the raw, swollen hives, leaving a weeping trail of red. My vision swam. I watched her slide the cuff into a velvet jewelry box. Something inside me snapped. The last string holding me to them broke. I took a deep breath, and the urge to fight evaporated. Mom closed the box. “See? That’s better. If you just cooperate, this will be easy on everyone.” I looked down at my bare, raw wrist. “Okay,” I whispered, forcing a wide, vacant smile. “I’ll cooperate.” Mom stared at me, suspicious of my sudden compliance. Dad locked the study door from the outside, claiming it wasn’t to punish me, but to keep me from doing something reckless in my unstable state. Tristan stood in the hall, holding my phone. “Just hang in there for a few more days, Tina,” he muttered through the door. “When this is over, I’ll find a way to make it up to you.” I sat on the narrow cot in the pitch black. I touched the bare skin where my grandmother’s cuff used to be. I felt an eerie, beautiful peace. That night, Mom slid a bowl of plain oatmeal through a crack in the door. No spoon, no toppings. “Bland is better for your allergies,” she said. I stared at the lukewarm mush and smiled. When I was sick as a kid, she would slow-cook chicken broth for hours, blowing on each spoonful to cool it down. Now, she was only feeding me to keep the vessel intact. Over the next two days, I listened to them decorate the room through the locked door. “Gen, what kind of scented candles do you like?” Mom cooed into her phone. “Should the desk face the window or the wall?” Dad asked. “Do you want a white or champagne gown for the engagement dinner?” Tristan murmured. They were gentler with her than they had ever been with me. On the final day, Mom unlocked the door, holding a box of ribbons and balloons. “Come out. Stop sulking. Today is the day.” The house was unrecognizable. Soft cream-white flowers, warm champagne lights, and a low-sugar cake sat on the counter. Mom handed me a spool of silk ribbon. “Your fingers are nimble. Tie some bows on the chairs.” I took it, tying them one by one. Dad watched me, his brow furrowed. “Why are you being so quiet?” Tristan paused. “Tina, are you planning something?” I kept my head down, pulling the silk tight until it dug a white crease into my skin. “Didn’t you say so? If I cooperate, it’s easier on everyone.” A flicker of guilt crossed Mom’s face, but she quickly brushed it off. “As long as you understand.” The app chimed. A video call from the parallel Tina connected. Seeing me decorating, she smiled softly. “Thank you, Tina.” Everyone stared at me, bracing for a breakdown. I just smiled back. “You’re welcome. It’s your home now.” When those words left my mouth, there was no pain. Just a vast, liberating emptiness. Mom froze. Dad adjusted his glasses. Tristan’s eyes flashed with sudden panic. “Tina, don’t say it like that.” I tied the final bow, turned, and went back into the study. Before the door closed, I heard Mom whisper, “Her being this quiet makes me uneasy.” Tristan replied, “Keep an eye on her. Don’t let her ruin this at the finish line.” I sat on the cot and pulled out an old tablet I had hidden under the mattress. The app was logged in there, too. The screen popped up with a final prompt: “Do you wish to waive your right to appeal? Once waived, the exchange is permanent and irreversible.” I listened to the joyful laughter floating from the living room. They thought I had finally learned my place. But they didn’t get it. I wasn’t resigning myself to fate. I was abandoning them. I tapped Confirm. [Countdown: 10 seconds.] In those ten seconds, Mom’s giddy voice echoed through the walls. “She’s almost here!” I closed my eyes. For the first time in my life, I didn’t look back.

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1 Three days after my mother disappeared, I received her organ donation contract. Her heart, kidneys, and corneas were all marked. At the bottom, the authorized signature was my husband Xavier Knight’s. I rushed home to confront him, but he sounded as calm as if he were discussing dinner. “She was going to die sooner or later. Instead of letting her rot, it is better to use her to save someone with real value.” I shook with a rage so violent I could not speak. His phone lit up with a message from his first love Jessica. It was a selfie from her recovery room. Xav, the doctor says my recovery is perfect. I can finally see your face again. In the photo, she flashed a peace sign, white gauze taped near her eye, her smile sweet and triumphant. Three years ago, when she had kidney failure, Xavier borrowed my entire life savings. Two years ago, when her eyesight failed, he complained that my mother’s illness drained our finances. For Jessica, he exploited my dying mother. I gripped the donation papers until they crumpled. Xavier glanced at me and lit a cigarette. “Your mother suffered while alive. I helped her find peace. You should thank me.” He flicked ash into the tray. “Jessica is discharged next week. Prepare a generous gift for her recovery.” I let out a soft, humorless laugh and pulled out my phone. I dialed a number I had not called in six years. “Christian, I need a divorce. Can you help me?” … “Where are you? I’m coming with my men right now.” Christian’s deep, urgent voice crackled through the receiver. I gave him the address and hung up. Xavier drove me to the hospital. The doctor looked at me, hesitating for a long moment before offering a quiet, sympathetic condolence. My steps felt incredibly heavy as I walked down the corridor, finally leaning against the cold, sterile white wall outside the morgue. The blood in my veins felt as though it had frozen solid. The medical examiner pushed open the heavy steel door. A sharp, pungent wave of formalin mixed with the metallic scent of blood washed over me. “Family, please identify the body.” The white sheet was pulled back just a fraction. It was my mother, whom I had spent three agonizing days and nights searching for. Her deflated chest and abdomen had been hastily stitched back together with thick, black thread. Her eye sockets were deeply hollowed out, resembling two dried-up, empty wells. The examiner handed me a copy of the surgical records. Under the authorization line, Xavier’s signature was written in a bold, sweeping scrawl. My stomach churned violently. I clamped my hand over my mouth, rushing to the trash can in the hallway and dry-heaving. The stomach acid burned my throat, and hot tears splashed onto the cold linoleum floor. A tissue was suddenly held out in front of my face. Xavier stood there, half-bathed in the harsh fluorescent light. He was wearing a perfectly tailored grey suit, carrying his usual scent of expensive sandalwood. Clinging to his arm was Jessica, who was dressed in a pristine white patient gown. The corner of her eye was covered with clean medical gauze, and her lips were curved into a delicate, helpless pout. “Gwen, please don’t blame Xavier.” Jessica leaned her fragile body against his shoulder. “Your mother wandered off into the wilderness. By the time the search party found her, she was already brain-dead.” She raised a hand, gently touching the edge of her bandaged eye. “Xavier said that your mother always adored me when she was alive. He knew she would want me to have her eyes so I could keep looking at this beautiful world.” I stared at the gauze on her face. Those were my mother’s eyes, violently carved out of her body. Three days ago. Xavier had dismissed my mother’s private nurse under the guise of taking her to the park for some fresh air. He had returned alone that night, casually claiming she had wandered off and gotten lost. I had searched for her in the pouring rain for three days and three nights like a lunatic. Meanwhile, he was sitting in a sterile operating room, keeping vigil over his first love during her transplant surgery. “You left her in that unmonitored wilderness on purpose, didn’t you?” I forced myself to stand upright, leaning against the trash can for support. My fingernails dug so deep into my palms that beads of blood began to seep out. Xavier’s brow furrowed. He pulled back the hand holding the tissue, slowly smoothing the cuff of his sleeve. “Gwen, your mind is always so incredibly twisted.” His voice was entirely devoid of emotion. “Your mother had severe Alzheimer’s. Even if I had watched her twenty-four hours a day, she only had a few years left anyway.” “Now, her heart is beating in someone else’s chest, and her corneas have allowed Jessica to see again.” He reached out, wrapping his arm around Jessica’s waist. “The continuation of life is a beautiful thing. Why can’t you see that?” I lunged forward, swinging my hand to slap him across the face. But my wrist was caught in mid-air, gripped in a vice-like hold. My bones let out an ominous creak under his pressure. “Have you thrown enough of a tantrum?” Xavier’s eyes turned icy. “A hospital is not the place for your hysterics.” With a harsh shove, he threw me off balance. I fell hard onto the cold floor, the contents of my purse scattering across the linoleum. A crumpled ultrasound sheet drifted through the air, landing right at the tip of Xavier’s leather shoe. The printed numbers of the gestational sac were clearly visible. I scrambled to reach for it. But Jessica’s foot stepped onto the paper first. “Oh, what’s this?” She deliberately ground the heel of her shoe into the paper twice before slowly drawing her foot back. A dirty, black boot-print now covered the page, completely obscuring the words early pregnancy. “Gwen, are you pregnant?” Jessica gasped, covering her mouth in exaggerated shock. Xavier glanced down at the soiled paper. His eyes didn’t show a single flicker of warmth. “Since you’re pregnant, stay home and behave yourself.” He pulled a black card from his wallet, tossing it onto my lap. “I’ll have my assistant handle the funeral arrangements.” The sharp plastic edge of the card swiped across my cheek, leaving a thin red scratch. I looked at the card on my lap and let out a broken laugh. “Xavier, you bribed the medical examiner to falsify the brain-death report so you could illegally harvest her organs.” I looked up, my teeth clenched so hard they nearly shattered. “I’m going to the police.” Xavier looked down at me as if I were a petulant child throwing a useless fit. “Suit yourself.” He turned around, carefully shielding Jessica as they walked toward the exit. “But you might want to think it through first.” He stopped, casting a cold glance over his shoulder. “If you’re locked up in a cell, who is going to sign the authorization form to cremate your mother’s body?” Jessica turned back, offering me a sweet, mocking smile. “Gwen, once I’m discharged, I’ll be sure to visit your mother’s grave and burn some incense for her.” … The automatic lights in the hospital corridor flickered twice before dying completely. I sat alone outside the morgue for the entire night. By the next morning, Xavier’s assistant arrived, handing me a thick stack of legal documents. “Mrs. Knight, Mr. Knight says that if you sign this voluntary donation confirmation form, the deed to the historic family cottage will be officially transferred back to your name.” That cottage was the only piece of property my father had left behind. It was the place my mother had cherished most in the world. Years ago, when I chose to marry the penniless Xavier, I had severed all ties with my wealthy family. To help him launch his startup, I had sold all my stocks and personal assets. The only thing I had refused to touch was that historic cottage. And now, Xavier was using it to blackmail me. If I signed this paper, his illegal organ harvesting would be completely wiped clean in the eyes of the law. “And if I refuse?” I didn’t take the pen. The assistant adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his voice professional and detached. “Mr. Knight said that if you refuse, he will sell the cottage to developers this afternoon. They plan to level the entire property to build a golf course.” A thick, metallic taste rose in my throat. I closed my eyes. I remembered that freezing winter years ago. Xavier’s company was facing bankruptcy, and his creditors had chased him to the edge of the river. I hadn’t hesitated for a single second before diving into the icy water to save him. The extreme cold had ravaged my body, and the doctors had warned me that I would likely never be able to bear children. I had stayed awake outside his ICU room for three days and three nights. But when he finally woke up, Jessica was sitting by his bedside in dry, warm clothes, weeping beautifully. From that day on, Xavier treated Jessica as his savior. No matter how many times I tried to explain the truth, he simply brushed it off as petty jealousy. And now, the miracle child I had finally managed to conceive was something he couldn’t care less about. I snatched the pen from the assistant’s hand and scribbled my name across the page, the metal tip tearing through the paper. That afternoon, I dragged my exhausted body back to the cottage. When I pushed open the carved wooden gate, my heart shattered. The ancient trees in the courtyard had been violently chopped down, and several workmen were trampling over my mother’s prize orchids as they hauled furniture out of the house. “What do you think you’re doing?” I rushed forward, shoving one of the workers away. Jessica, wearing a vibrant red dress, stepped gracefully out of the front door. She was casually tossing a small green object in her hand: my mother’s vintage jade amulet, something she had worn close to her heart every single day. “Oh, Gwen, you’re back,” she purred, walking down the steps. “Xavier said the air here is wonderful for my recovery.” She gestured to the workmen. “I thought the garden looked a bit too plain, so I’m having them tear out all these boring plants to put in red roses.” My eyes locked onto the jade amulet in her hand. “Give that back to me.” I lunged forward to grab it. Jessica stepped back, raising her hand to hold the amulet high out of my reach. “Gwen, don’t be so stingy.” “Your mother is dead anyway. Keeping her old junk around will only bring bad luck to the house.” She opened her fingers. Clack. The priceless jade amulet struck the cobblestone steps, shattering into a dozen pieces. I froze, the last thread of my sanity snapping. I threw myself forward, delivering a stinging slap to her face. “Who do you think you are!” Jessica let out a sharp cry, collapsing onto the sharp fragments of jade, her palms instantly sliced open and bleeding. “Stop!” Xavier’s furious roar echoed from the gate. He stormed into the courtyard, grabbing my shoulder and shoving me away with terrifying force. My lower back collided violently with the edge of the stone table. A sharp, white-hot agony shot up my spine. Xavier carefully scooped Jessica into his arms. “Xav, I just thought the amulet was pretty and wanted to look at it,” Jessica sobbed against his chest, her tears flowing freely. “I don’t understand why Gwen is so angry.” Xavier looked up, his eyes filled with a lethal coldness. “Gwen, have you completely lost your mind?” I clutched my agonizing lower abdomen, cold sweat drenching my back. “She broke my mother’s amulet,” I gasped, my voice trembling violently as I pointed at the broken jade. “That was the only thing my mother left me.” Xavier glanced at the green shards on the ground, his frown deepening. “It’s just a piece of stone. I’ll buy you ten more.” He turned, carrying Jessica toward the gate. “This cottage has already been transferred to Jessica’s name.” He stopped, without even turning his head to look at me. “Pack your bags and get out immediately.” … The dull ache in my abdomen rapidly intensified. I felt a warm, thick liquid begin to trickle down my thighs. I gripped the edge of the stone table, my knuckles turning stark white. “Xavier,” I called out, my voice so weak it was nearly swallowed by the wind. “I’m pregnant.” Xavier’s footsteps paused. He slowly turned around, his gaze falling onto my skirt. The brilliant red stain was rapidly spreading. His eyes lingered on the blood for barely a second before returning to their usual detached coldness. “Gwen, playing the same pathetic trick twice is just sad.” He let out a dry, mocking chuckle. “You’re actually desperate enough to make up a pregnancy just to get my attention?” Jessica whimpered in his arms, shivering. “Xav, I’m scared.” “Let’s go. My hand hurts so much.” Xavier tightened his grip around her, never looking back at me. “Clean up the courtyard yourself,” he threw the final command over his shoulder, walking out of the gate. The roar of his car engine gradually faded into the distance. My legs gave out, and I slid down the side of the stone table onto the ground. My blood stained the stone patio, mixing with the shattered fragments of my mother’s jade. The pain felt as though a thousand hot needles were tearing through my organs. With the last of my fading consciousness, I dialed emergency services. When I finally opened my eyes again, I was greeted by the sterile white ceiling of a hospital room. The scent of antiseptic filled the air. The nurse was changing my IV drip. Seeing me wake up, she let out a quiet sigh. “You’re awake.” She avoided my gaze. “We couldn’t save the baby. Your body was already severely weakened. I’m afraid it will be very difficult for you to conceive again.” I listened to her words in absolute silence. There were no tears. I couldn’t even feel the weight of my own grief. I felt like an empty, hollow shell. The door was pushed open. Xavier walked in, looking immaculate in his tailored suit. The nurse quietly gathered her tray and slipped out of the room. He pulled up a chair and sat down beside the bed, looking down at my pale face. “The doctor said you had a miscarriage.” His tone carried no trace of sorrow, as if he were reviewing a routine business report. I turned my head to look out the window at the gray, overcast sky, remaining silent. “Jessica suffered a mild concussion from your slap.” He picked up the medical chart at the foot of my bed, flipping through it idly. “A person who just had major surgery shouldn’t be subjected to that kind of stress.” He tossed the chart back onto the table with a dull thud. “The loss of this baby was probably a blessing in disguise.” “Don’t bring your bad luck around her.” I slowly turned my head to look at him. I stared at the face of the man I had loved with every fiber of my being for seven years. For him, I had abandoned my family, my pride, and my future. And all of it had been dismissed as a blessing in disguise. “Get out,” I whispered, my voice raw and dry. Xavier’s brow furrowed, clearly taken aback by my coldness. “When are you going to fix that miserable attitude of yours?” He stood up, adjusting his tie. “Stay in the hospital for the next few days.” “I’ve already sent workmen to begin renovations on the cottage.” “Tomorrow, I’ll have my assistant deliver your mother’s ashes to the suburban cemetery.” He checked a message on his phone. “Jessica wants some soup from the uptown diner, so I’m leaving.” Just as he reached the door, he paused. “The hospital bill has been taken care of.” “Don’t call me.” The door clicked shut, cutting off the noise from the hallway. I reached down and ripped the IV needle from the back of my hand. Blood immediately welled up, dripping onto the clean white sheets. I slid off the bed, my legs trembling like paper. But I couldn’t fall. I had to get my mother. I couldn’t let her ashes fall into the hands of those monsters. I changed into my clothes, leaning against the wall for support as I slowly made my way out of the hospital. The autumn wind was freezing, biting deep into my bones. I waved down a cab. “Take me to the South Hill Crematorium.” … The air inside the crematorium office was damp and heavy. I dragged my aching legs to the front desk. “I’m here to collect the ashes of Evelyn Pierce.” The clerk flipped through the registry, a look of hesitation on his face. “The ashes of Evelyn Pierce were collected by her family ten minutes ago.” My entire body went rigid. “Who took them?” “A Mr. Knight. There was a very elegant lady with him.” I turned and ran toward the exit. As I burst through the glass doors of the lobby, I saw Xavier’s black luxury car parked by the curb. Jessica was holding the dark wooden urn in her bare hands, tapping her manicured fingers playfully against the lid. “Xav, the psychic said that if we bury these ashes in the old dried well of the estate, it will ward off our bad luck and bring us wealth.” She smiled up at him, her eyes bright with malice. Xavier opened the passenger door for her. “Whatever makes you happy.” “Don’t you dare touch her!” I screamed, throwing myself forward and snatching the urn out of Jessica’s hands. Jessica gasped, stumbling backward. Xavier caught her quickly, his eyes flashing with lethal fury. “Gwen, have you not embarrassed yourself enough today?” I clutched the heavy urn to my chest, my body still raw from the surgery, standing purely on adrenaline and hatred. “This is her ashes!” I glared at him. “When she was alive, you drained her blood and stole her organs.” “And now that she’s dead, you want to use her ashes as a stepping stone for this woman?” Xavier’s face darkened. He lunged forward, his hand clamping around my throat, slamming me hard against the car door. “I don’t need a child like you telling me what to do.” The grip on my neck tightened, cutting off my air. My face burned, and I clawed desperately at his iron wrist. Jessica stood nearby, a cruel, satisfied smirk playing on her lips. “Xav, the way she’s glaring at me is terrifying,” she whimpered, pretending to shrink back. Xavier’s grip tightened further. “Drop the urn.” His voice was a low, menacing growl. “Never,” I gasped through my teeth. Jessica stepped forward, reaching out to pry my fingers off the wooden box, one by one, her sharp nails digging deep into my raw flesh. “Gwen, your mother loved me so much. I’m sure she’d be happy to protect me.” With a violent wrench, she tore the urn from my grip. Crash. The heavy wooden box slipped from her hands, striking the concrete pavement. The wood split open, and a cloud of gray-white ash spilled across the dirty ground, catching in the wind. The world went silent. “Mom!” A primal, agonizing scream tore from my throat as I fought my way out of Xavier’s grip. I dropped to my knees on the cold concrete, desperately clawing at the dust, trying to gather the scattered ashes back together. But the wind was too strong, carrying her away from me. “Please… don’t leave me…” I sobbed, my tears mixing with the gray dust on my face. A sharp high heel suddenly came down on the back of my hand. The pointed heel punctured my skin, pinning my hand to the pavement. Blood immediately pooled around the gray ashes. “Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry!” Jessica squealed, grinding her heel deeper into my flesh. “The wind was just so strong, I lost my balance.” Xavier stood by, watching me grovel in the dirt without a single ounce of pity. “Get her out of here,” he ordered his men. Two burly bodyguards stepped forward, grabbing my arms and dragging me away. The violent movement tore open my surgical wounds, and a fresh wave of blood began to seep through my trousers. The guards shoved my face down into the dirt, holding me pinned against the scattered ashes. My vision began to blur, and darkness crept in at the edges of my sight. Xavier brushed a speck of dust from his sleeve. “Dump her somewhere far away. Don’t let her ruin Jessica’s mood.” But just as the guards prepared to drag my limp body into the shadows, the screech of burning rubber sliced through the quiet air. A sleek, black Rolls-Royce swerved sharply around the corner, blocking Xavier’s car. The heavy door was kicked open.

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1 Just before launch, Brooke gave Austin a glance. Silently, they unbuckled and ran, leaving me frozen in the seat. Austin stood behind the yellow line, smirking. “Brooke says you’re too timid, Tessa. Face your fears. Have fun alone!” The machine roared, hurling me skyward. Wind whipped past as Brooke doubled over laughing, snapping photos of my terror. Austin steadied her phone, his indulgent smile saying it all: Don’t tease her; she’s pitiful. Yes, I was a coward. For twenty years, this was their “help.” Brooke baited stray dogs, leaving me screaming as Austin lifted her to safety. In high school, she yanked the vault mat; I crashed onto concrete, knees torn, while he laughed. During a night hike, she lost me in the dark; he stalked the brush, growling, as I sobbed alone. Every time, her triumph; his empty warning: “Don’t do it again.” His “next time” was always her green light. Sixty feet up, weightlessness clawed my throat. But staring at their tiny figures, I felt no fear. When the ride ended and they reached for me, I pushed them away. “I don’t need either of you to build my courage anymore.” … Austin laughed, reaching out to ruffle my hair. “Tess, did you get scared out of your mind? Your courage didn’t grow, but you definitely look a little dazed.” Brooke chimed in with her usual playful banter. “Well, I’m more than willing to take my time and help her grow.” I pressed my lips together, looking at the two of them acting in perfect harmony. “This isn’t helping me. It’s bullying.” Brooke’s smile instantly froze. “Tess, that actually hurts. I spend my free time trying to help you, and you call it bullying?” She sighed, crossing her arms. “Fine, how about I go ride the rollercoaster, the one thing I’m absolutely terrified of? That way, we’re even.” She turned and began walking toward the coaster. Austin frowned, casting a brief, annoyed glance at me before catching up to Brooke and grabbing her wrist. “Don’t force yourself. You cried on that ride last time. I’ll go with you.” I stood there, watching their retreating backs. Just minutes ago, right before the drop tower launched, Austin had looked at me and said, “You can’t be this childish, Tessa. It’s just a theme park ride, you don’t need someone to hold your hand.” When the coaster finally came to a stop, Brooke was practically vibrating with excitement. “Having someone next to you makes it so much better! See, Tessa? It’s really not that scary at all!” But there was never anyone next to me. Austin looked at my expressionless face. “If you’re still throwing a tantrum, how about we go on the drop tower again? We can all do it together.” But this time, they had chosen the double-rider drop tower, often called the “couples’ line.” It required the riders to sit face-to-face, holding onto each other tightly so the seats wouldn’t tilt during the rapid ascent. The metal archway of the ride bore a cheesy slogan: “Give your deepest trust to the person closest to you.” When the ride operator pointed out that they only had seats for two, Austin looked at me. “Tess was just terrified up there anyway. Let’s not push her. I’ll go with Brooke this time.” They sat down, facing each other with bright, easy smiles. It was so strange. When they wanted entertainment, I wasn’t allowed to be afraid. But now, suddenly, my fear was a convenient excuse to leave me behind. I stared at them as they buckled their safety harnesses. “Austin, the engagement party in five days, let’s call it off.” Austin’s face paled as he registered the cold sincerity in my voice. “Tess, stop making a scene! We’ll talk about this when I get down!” When the ride ended, they practically chased me all the way to the entrance of my apartment building. My mother was sitting on a bench downstairs, chatting with some neighbors. When she saw me, her brow furrowed. “What’s with that face? Didn’t you have fun?” Brooke immediately rushed over, wrapping her arm around my mother’s shoulders with a pout. “Aunt Margaret, we were just trying to help Tessa work on her anxiety, but she accused me of bullying her. Now she’s even telling Austin she wants to call off the engagement.” Austin caught up, trying to smooth things over. “Margaret, it’s fine. If Tessa doesn’t want to go, we won’t force her. But calling off the engagement is a bit extreme.” My mother’s face went completely dark. She marched over, grabbing my ear in a vice grip. “Calling off the wedding just like that? Who do you think you are, throwing a tantrum like this?” With the neighbors watching and whispering, my mother raised her voice, wanting everyone to hear. “This girl has always been a coward. Austin and Brooke are kind enough to help her, and this is how she repays them? She’s completely ungrateful!” “Do you plan on hiding in your room like a useless hermit for the rest of your life?” Hearing the neighbors’ hushed judgments, my face burned as if I had been slapped in public. Austin stepped in, blocking me from my mother’s view. “Margaret, please, it’s fine. Even if Tessa stays like this, I’ll protect her.” His words only fueled my mother’s rage. She dragged me upstairs by my arm, slamming the front door behind us. The moment the door closed, my tears finally spilled over. “Mom, why is it that even though I’m your daughter, you always take everyone else’s side?” My mother let out a cold, sharp laugh. “I gave birth to you, do you think I don’t know what kind of useless child you are?” “Ever since you were little, you’ve been terrified of everything. You’re nothing like Brooke. You can’t get a single thing right, you’re just like your spineless father!” Her words cut deep, carving straight into my bones. But I had wanted to be brave, too. When I was small, money was tight. My mother was proud and ambitious, and she viewed my father’s gentle, quiet nature as cowardice. She screamed at him constantly, blaming his lack of backbone for our poverty. So, she decided to “train” the fear out of me from a young age. When I was three and afraid of the dark, she locked me in the dark utility closet. I cried until my voice went completely hoarse, and when she finally let me out, she beat me. When I was afraid of water, she shoved my face into a basin full of it, and if I struggled, another beating followed. She called it exposure therapy. But it didn’t cure me. It only made me more terrified. Because making a mistake meant punishment, and punishment was proof of my worthlessness. When I was eight, my father chose to divorce my mother, leaving everything behind, even me, just to escape her. From that day on, I didn’t dare to do anything. I was terrified that if I made another mistake, my mother would abandon me too. But Brooke, who grew up alongside me, was graceful, sweet-talking, and effortlessly adored by adults. My mother used to say constantly, “If only Brooke were my daughter.” Eventually, she even took Brooke in as her goddaughter. My mother pointed toward my bedroom. “Get in your room and think about what you’ve done. If you leave Austin, tell me, who else would be charitable enough to take you in?” She then dialed Brooke and Austin, her voice instantly shifting into a warm, gentle tone I had never received. “Brooke, sweetie, I’m going to make Tessa apologize to you both. Come over for dinner tonight, okay?” I leaned against my bedroom door, wiping away my tears. I unlocked my phone and dialed a friend’s number. “Skyler, that volunteer teaching program heading into the mountain communities in five days, do you still have an open slot?” Skyler sounded surprised. “Are you sure, Tess? There’s no signal up there, no internet, and the woods are full of snakes. Aren’t you terrified of all of that?” “I’m not afraid anymore.” “But what about your engagement? How are you going to explain this to your mother? She’ll tear you apart.” I gripped the phone tightly. “Skyler, I need to run away. Just once, I want to be brave for myself.” … Brooke and Austin arrived early, carrying heavy bags of groceries. Austin was the first to approach my door, offering an apology. “Tess, we bought all your favorite foods. Don’t be mad anymore, okay?” I didn’t answer. At the dinner table, the dishes spread before Brooke were all of her favorites: sweet glazed pork chops, garlic butter shrimp, and peach cobbler. Brooke gasped happily. “These are all my favorites! Thank you, Austin, for going out of your way to buy them, and thank you, Aunt Margaret, for cooking them exactly how I like!” But placed directly in front of me was a single, white porcelain bowl. I lifted the lid. Inside was a fully intact, stewed bullfrog. I nearly knocked the bowl off the table. In elementary school, some boys had stuffed a live toad into my backpack. When I reached in to grab my notebook, my fingers closed around its cold, slimy skin. My terrified screams became the joke of the school, and they nicknamed me “Frog-girl.” Ever since, frogs and toads had been my worst phobia. But when my mother found out, she started forcing me to eat bullfrog. “You’re only afraid because you haven’t eaten enough of it. Eat more, and you’ll get over it.” Once, she forced a spoonful down my throat, and I threw up so violently I ended up in the emergency room. Austin had snuck into the hospital that night, quietly slipping a roasted chicken leg into my hand. “Tessa, when we grow up, you can come live with me. I promise I will never force you to eat anything you’re afraid of.” “It’s okay to be a little scared.” The absolute sincerity in his eyes back then was the reason I had fallen in love with him. But now, Austin picked up his chopsticks, plucked a piece of the frog meat, and dropped it into my bowl. “It looks a bit intimidating, but it’s actually highly nutritious. Eat up.” I stared at the pale meat in my bowl, then picked it up and placed it into Brooke’s bowl. “If it’s so good, she should have it.” Austin immediately blocked her bowl with his chopsticks. “No, Tess, Brooke thinks frogs are disgusting. Just looking at them gives her goosebumps.” My mother slapped her chopsticks down against my knuckles. “Stop playing with your food. Who are you putting on this miserable face for?” I looked down at the table for a long, silent moment. Then, I picked up the piece of meat and put it in my mouth. My stomach churned, and I felt the urge to gag. But I forced myself to swallow. And in that moment, I realized: it really wasn’t that terrifying after all. They looked at me with smug satisfaction, like scientists admiring a successful experiment. The chatter at the table resumed. Austin carefully picked the bones out of the fish for Brooke, while my mother ladled soup into her bowl. I sat there like an invisible, decorative piece of furniture. Halfway through the meal, Austin suddenly spoke up. “By the way, Tess, about your team’s project presentation tomorrow, why don’t we let Brooke handle the pitch?” “You get so nervous in front of crowds, you might start stuttering.” For once in my life, I saw right through him. He claimed he was worried about my anxiety, but he knew exactly how important this project was. He wanted to hand the career-defining opportunity to Brooke on a silver platter. But I had stayed up for three consecutive nights working on those slides. I didn’t care about the spotlight, but I wanted to try. Just once, I wanted to stand at the front. “I want to do the presentation myself.” The table fell dead silent. Austin’s brow furrowed. “Are you sure? There will be a lot of executives there tomorrow. Don’t freeze up on stage.” My mother glared at me with deep disappointment. “You can’t even speak properly in front of your own relatives. What are you going to do up there?” “It’s fine if you want to embarrass yourself, but don’t drag Austin’s reputation down with you.” I looked at them both, my voice quiet but steady. “Haven’t you both always wanted me to be bolder?” Brooke quickly stepped in to play the peacemaker. “I think it’s wonderful that Tessa wants to take this step. I support you, Tess.” That night, I stayed up until two in the morning, practicing my delivery in front of the slides over and over again. But the next morning, when I stood on the stage, I realized several key data slides had been completely wiped clean. I froze, staring at the blank screen. Austin sat in the very front row, watching me with a calm, detached expression. “Having the courage to stand on stage is only the first step,” he spoke up from the crowd, his voice carrying across the room. “But professional capability is about mastering your data and handling unexpected situations.” At the same time, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from Brooke. “Austin and I deleted those two slides on purpose! In the real world, clients will throw all kinds of curveballs at you. Once you learn how to think on your feet, you won’t be scared anymore!” Dozens of eyes stared up at me from the audience. My hands began to tremble. There were no slides, no data charts. I closed my eyes and took a deep, steady breath. I began to speak. It was rocky, and I stumbled over my words three times. It wasn’t a flawless performance, but I didn’t run. I finished the pitch. When I concluded, the smug smiles on Austin and Brooke’s faces completely vanished. As I walked off the stage, my phone vibrated. It was a message from Skyler. “We leave for the mountains tomorrow. Have you made up your mind?” “Yes. I already bought my ticket.” At the celebratory dinner that evening, Brooke had a few drinks and began sharing my childhood embarrassments with the table. “You guys have no idea how pathetic Tessa is,” she giggled. “In middle school, someone locked her in the gym equipment room overnight. She just sat there crying until her voice went hoarse, too chicken to even knock on the door.” A colleague laughed, wiping a tear from his eye. “Tessa, that is seriously pathetic.” Brooke nudged Austin with her elbow. “Austin, tell them, am I lying?” Austin looked at my strained expression, hesitating for a fraction of a second. But when Brooke tugged on his sleeve, he spoke up anyway. “Yeah. When the teacher finally found her, she was so terrified she just hid behind my back and wouldn’t even look up.” The table erupted into laughter. My fingernails dug deep into my palms. I gathered every ounce of strength I had and spoke. “Could you please stop? I don’t like being the butt of your jokes.” The laughter died instantly. A colleague leaned over and whispered in my ear. “Don’t pick a fight with Brooke. She has serious connections here, the boss specifically told everyone to look after her.” She paused, looking at me in confusion. “Wait, if you and Brooke grew up together, you must know the boss too. Why are you…” I froze. I had worked myself to the bone to pass the interviews for this company, all because I wanted to be closer to Austin. But when we ran into each other in the lobby on my first day, he had walked right past me without a single word of acknowledgment. “I don’t want people giving you special treatment just because of me, Tessa,” he had told me later. “You need to learn to stand on your own feet.” I pulled my lips into a tight, humorless smile. “We’re just old classmates. We aren’t close.” Later that evening, someone suggested going to a horror-themed escape room. It was a hospital concept, rated five stars for terror. It was clearly aimed at me. When it came time to split into groups, everyone actively avoided me. One colleague joked half-mockingly, “We don’t want to get dragged down by having you in our group.” Eventually, only Austin, Brooke, and I were left. Austin looked at me with a performative display of reluctance, then took his place next to Brooke. “Tess, this is a great opportunity to build your character. Try going through it on your own.” The groups filed in, one by one. Except for me. Sitting there alone, I felt like I had been thrown back into my childhood. My mother didn’t love me, and the neighborhood kids didn’t want to play with me. Whenever we played games, I was always the one left out. I had wanted to go home back then, but my mother would drag me back to the playground, forcing me to stand there. “You always shrink back like a sewer rat! If you behaved more like Brooke, maybe people would actually want you around!” I had stood alone under the shade of a tree. Eventually, Austin had walked over and said, “I’ll play with you.” But the moment Brooke’s partner left, he had abandoned me to run to her side. Ten years had passed, and I was still the one left standing alone. I used to believe Austin was the savior who would pull me out of my ocean of self-doubt. But in reality, he had been holding Brooke’s hand the entire time, casually watching me drown. The staff member at the entrance looked at me sympathetically. “Are you going in alone, miss?” I clenched my fists. “Yes. Alone.” The door pushed open, and I was plunged into total darkness. The sterile smell of bleach filled the air, accompanied by flickering red lights and hanging white sheets covering mannequins. At a sharp turn in the corridor, Brooke suddenly jumped out from the shadows. Startled, my foot slipped on the slick floor, and I went crashing down, my forehead slamming hard against the metal leg of a prop gurney. The lights in the room suddenly flooded on, and a chorus of laughter echoed through the space. “Tess, you are way too easy to scare!” My knee was scraped and bleeding, and a large, painful knot was already forming on my forehead. I slowly brushed the dust off my clothes, turned around, and walked out of the building. Austin ran out after me. “Are you angry? Brooke only did it for your own good.” I swallowed the throbbing pain and shook my head. “I’m not angry.” He reached out, gently touching the bruise on my forehead with a soft smile. “Tess is always the most obedient.” When the night finally ended, Austin prepared to drive Brooke home. “Her apartment is in a pretty secluded area, and she’s terrified of being alone in the dark,” he explained casually. “You can just call a cab back.” I looked directly into his eyes. “Why is it that when it comes to Brooke, you never think her fears are something she needs to ‘get over’?” His mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out. Suddenly, the answers I had spent years searching for didn’t matter anymore. “Forget it. Just go.” When I got home, my mother was sitting on the sofa, eating sunflower seeds. “Did Austin drop you off?” “He went to drop Brooke off.” My mother tossed a handful of shells into the trash. “Look at you, absolutely useless.” “Austin comes from a good family, has a great job, and Brooke is such a perfect match for him. He must have been blind to choose you, and yet you still aren’t satisfied.” I looked at her, my gaze steady and calm. “You’re right, Mom. Brooke is a much better match for Austin than I am.” “And she’d make a much better daughter for you, too.” My mother slammed her hand on the table and stood up. “You’ve learned to talk back now? Do you honestly think anyone actually likes you?” “You have the exact same pathetic attitude as your father. You’ll never hold a candle to Brooke.” I went into my room and shut the door. She stood outside, screaming insults through the wood until past midnight. I put on my headphones and quietly began packing my bags. The next morning, I went out to buy supplies for the mountain village: snake repellent, bug spray, and a first-aid kit. When I returned, the front door was slightly ajar. The sound of laughter floated out from the living room. First, it was Brooke’s voice. “Hey, during the engagement party, right when Tessa walks onto the stage, let’s drop something on her from above to test her courage.” “What do you think? A fake snake, or maybe a dead rat?” Austin remained silent for a long time. Brooke’s tone grew irritable. “What’s with that face? If you’re going to take her side, then just stop talking to me altogether!” Austin finally let out a heavy sigh. “Fine… but this is the absolute last time. I don’t want Tess to get too traumatized.” He spoke as if he cared, and yet, he still agreed. My mother joined in on the laughter. “A good scare will do her some good. She’s been full of attitude lately, this will teach her a lesson.” The afternoon sun was scorching, but I felt a sudden, icy chill seep into my bones. My own engagement party was nothing more than a stage for their cruel prank. It was fine. It really was fine. When the laughter inside subsided, I pushed the door open and walked in. Austin quickly stood up, wrapping an arm around my shoulders with a nervous smile. “Tess, we were just planning the perfect engagement party for you.” “Okay,” I replied softly. Brooke leaned in close. “Tess, I’m throwing a little pre-wedding bachelor night for Austin tonight. You don’t mind, do you?” “I don’t mind.” But at two in the morning, my phone rang. I had to go pick up the two of them, both completely wasted. Brooke’s makeup was smudged with tears as she clutched Austin’s sleeve. “If you hadn’t refused to go to the same college as me… if you had just confessed to me back then, I wouldn’t have stubbornly told you I didn’t like you.” Austin covered his eyes with his hand, his voice raspy and broken. “I regret it too… I shouldn’t have gotten drunk and kissed Tessa just to spite you. I shouldn’t have stayed with her.” “But she… she just looked so pitiful when she smiled…” I leaned against the doorframe, my knees suddenly feeling weak. On the night of our high school graduation, we had all had our first drinks. Austin, completely drunk, had pulled me into his arms on the street corner, kissing me as he whispered, “I love you so much.” That was the first time in my life anyone had ever told me they loved me. I had felt like the luckiest girl in the world, my head spinning with joy. He had fallen asleep with his head on my shoulder, and I hadn’t dared to move a single inch, my heart racing through the entire night. Ten years of my life, built entirely on a mistake. I let out a silent, self-deprecating laugh. Of course. How could someone like me ever be truly loved? I dragged the two of them back into the apartment. The next morning, Austin and Brooke came to pick up my mother, saying they were heading to the hotel early to set up. I knew they were going to set up the “surprise.” Austin smiled warmly at me from the door. “Take your time getting ready, Tess. Don’t rush.” I nodded, watching them drive away. Skyler was already waiting for me at the train station. By the time I arrived, Austin had sent me a text: “Don’t come just yet, we aren’t fully ready.” In the background of his call earlier, I had overheard Brooke shrieking, “No, this dead rat looks too fake! Go find another one!” So that was their grand plan. I didn’t reply. My mother sent a voice note to our family group chat. “Our Tessa has always been timid and easily embarrassed. The engagement party will start a bit late to give her more time to prepare.” I smiled, muted my phone, and boarded the bus with Skyler. Right before my signal cut out entirely, I received one last voice note from Austin. “Where are you? You can come now, we’re ready.” In the background, Brooke was laughing. “Hurry up, hurry up! The surprise is waiting!” I turned my phone off and never looked back. Meanwhile, at the hotel banquet hall, Austin and the others waited. The heavy doors were suddenly pushed open. Brooke shrieked, throwing her prop forward. But the only person standing at the entrance was the hotel manager. “Miss Tessa asked me to inform you that she won’t be coming. She wishes you all a wonderful evening.” The smile on Austin’s face shattered instantly. My mother stood frozen in place, unable to believe her ears.

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1 As the business owner, I had just announced a $1,000 monthly raise for our entire staff at the morning meeting. Before the cheers of my employees could even fade, a post on social media from the landlord of the surrounding rental properties shattered the mood: Effective this month, rent is going up by $1,200. New flat rate: $2,200 a month. I immediately dialed the landlord, Tabitha. “Tabitha, what is this? When you practically begged me to set up my office here, we shook hands on a fixed rate of $1,000 a month for my staff, with a promise of no hikes.” “We give them a raise, and you instantly raise the rent? Your hike is $200 more than the raise I just gave them. What is the meaning of this?” Tabitha sneered through the phone. “Marcus, honey, times change. This district is booming now. Your company isn’t the only game in town anymore. If your people don’t want to pay, there is a line of eager tenants waiting. Too expensive? Pack up and leave.” I looked out the window at the bustling business park. Dozens of supplier and partner companies had set up shop here just to be close to us. I hung up the phone and typed a message directly into our corporate announcement channel: “Pack your bags. Next Monday, the entire company is moving to our new headquarters.” Let’s see if your precious properties are still in high demand when my company is gone. Right after I hung up, Tabitha posted an update on her feed. I was trying to be nice to my loyal tenants by not raising it too much. But since some people don’t know how to be grateful, rent is going up another $300. Flat rate of $2,500 a month starting now. Suppressing my anger, I opened the main company group chat. It was already in chaos. “Marcus, is this raise for us or for the landlord?” “How does she expect us to live? We get a $1,000 raise, and she instantly demands an extra $1,500!” “At this rate, we’re just working for her. We won’t even have money left for groceries.” Another text popped up from an employee. “She’s not even waiting until next month. She’s demanding we pay the $1,500 difference right now. I asked her for a two-day extension, and she cut off my electricity.” My heart sank. The next morning, I pushed open the office doors. The lobby lights were off, and the scent of instant ramen hung heavy in the air. I frowned, walking deeper into the workspace. A few figures were curled up under their desks, surrounded by a messy pile of suitcases. I had always banned pointless overtime. Why were people sleeping in the office? “What is going on here?” I knocked on a glass partition. Daisy, who was sleeping closest to the door, bolted upright in panic. “Marcus! I’m sorry, we’ll pack up right away.” I looked at her bloodshot eyes and the exhausted faces of the other employees waking up around her. “Why are you sleeping here, Daisy?” She looked down, her eyes welling with tears. “We haven’t received this month’s paycheck yet, so none of us had the $1,500 to pay the rent difference. Tabitha came by with a couple of guys in the middle of the night and threw us out.” Another young woman wiped her tears. “The moment we got off work yesterday, all our things were dumped in the hallway. They even threw our blankets on the floor and stomped all over them.” “What about your security deposits?” I asked, struggling to keep my voice steady. “She kept them,” Daisy spat, clenching her fists. “She said we breached the lease by leaving early, so she’s keeping the deposits as a penalty.” I let out a cold laugh. Breached the lease? She was the one price-gouging, yet somehow my employees were the ones at fault. Looking at the clutter on the floor, a heavy stone settled in my chest. I had chosen this location specifically because the rent was affordable, wanting to ease the financial burden on the team who worked so hard for me. Who could have known Tabitha, once so pleasant and cooperative, could turn this greedy? “Go wash up and get yourselves sorted,” I said, pointing toward the restrooms. “Marcus… are we causing trouble for the company?” Daisy asked, anxiously tugging at her shirt. “No,” I said, looking them in the eye. “Don’t worry. As long as I’m here, the company has your back.” I patted Daisy’s shoulder. “Meet me in the lobby in ten minutes. We’re going to get some answers.” “Tabitha, kicking people out and keeping their deposits? Don’t you think you’ve gone too far?” I marched into the property management office, several employees behind me. Tabitha was lounging on a leather sofa. “Well, well. Marcus is here to start a riot bright and early? I’m just following the contract. They couldn’t pay, so I took my property back.” I slammed a stack of printed lease agreements onto her desk. “It says right here, in black and white, a fixed rent. What right do you have to unilaterally raise it?” Tabitha sneered, sitting up. “Are you blind, Marcus? Didn’t you see the fine print? ‘The landlord reserves the right of final interpretation.’ Besides, this is the market rate now.” She stood up and walked over to Daisy. “If you’re broke, don’t rent. Go sleep on the streets. It’s free.” Daisy shook with anger, her fists trembling. I pulled her behind me and stared coldly at Tabitha. Her smirk vanished, replaced by a vicious glare. She leaned in close. “If you want the apartments back, fine. Get down on your knees, give me three good apologies, and beg. If I’m in a good mood, maybe I’ll give your losers a ten percent discount.” I laughed from sheer anger. I grabbed Daisy’s arm and turned around. “Not a chance. There are plenty of places to live. I don’t believe we can’t find a single decent landlord in this city. Daisy, get everyone. The company will cover a hotel for a week while we look for a permanent solution.” Just as I turned to walk out, my foot caught on something. One of the security guards standing next to Tabitha had slipped his leg out. Caught off guard, I tripped and fell forward, my knees slamming heavily onto the hard tile floor. A sharp, white-hot pain shot up my legs. “Marcus!” Daisy gasped, rushing to help me up. Tabitha looked down at me, laughing mockingly. “Oh, Marcus, you didn’t have to get on your knees so fast! But I’m afraid you’re too late anyway.” Her voice dripped with spite. “Those apartments? Rented them out this morning to employees from the other tech firms in the park. Three thousand a month. People are practically begging for them.” I forced myself up, ignoring the throbbing pain in my knees, and glared at her. “Three thousand? Do you think everyone is an idiot?” Just then, a few people walked out of the back office. The woman leading them gave us a disdainful look. “So what if we rented them? If you can’t afford it, step aside. Plenty of people can. Tabitha’s places are right next to our office. Our team jumped at the chance.” Daisy’s eyes widened. “Marcus, that’s her cousin!” I immediately saw through Tabitha’s little game. She had hired her own family to play the role of eager tenants, creating a false illusion of high demand to scare the remaining renters into signing expensive renewals. Tabitha wasn’t even embarrassed to be caught. She just smirked and waved her hand. “Get these bums out of here. They’re ruining the view.” The security guards shoved us out the door. Daisy was crying tears of frustration, wanting to go back and fight. I held her back, dusting off my pants. “Don’t bother. You can’t reason with people like that.” By the time we got back to the office, my knee had swollen into a dark, angry purple bruise. No sooner had I sat down than my desk phone began ringing off the hook. Several department managers called, their voices tight with panic. “Marcus, Tabitha has lost her mind. She just posted notices in all the buildings. She’s demanding every tenant sign a one-year lease today. And she wants a six-month deposit upfront.” “And if they don’t sign?” I asked coldly. “She said anyone who doesn’t sign by next Monday will be evicted immediately.” The manager sounded utterly defeated. “Marcus, the team is panicking. They’re asking if we’re really moving next Monday. If we are, they say they’ll grit their teeth and get through this week.” Without hesitation, I opened the all-hands chat. My fingers flew across the keyboard. “To all staff: ignore the landlord’s demands. Under no circumstances should you sign a new lease.” “Just hang in there for a week. The company will fully reimburse all hotel and temporary accommodation costs for this week.” Just as the message sent, my office door burst open. Simon, my assistant, ran in, pale and holding a tablet. “Marcus, we have a problem!” “Yesterday, when you went to confront Tabitha, she secretly recorded it. She edited the footage and posted it online. It’s already trending locally!” I took the tablet and played the video, which already had over a million views. The video showed absolutely none of Tabitha’s arrogance. It only showed me storming into her office with a crowd of employees, and then me falling to the floor, followed by Daisy looking like she was about to attack the guards. A voiceover of Tabitha, sniffling and crying, played over the footage. “These corporate bullies think they can run this town. I’m just a simple, honest landlord who tried to adjust the rent slightly to match the market. This boss, Marcus, brought dozens of thugs to wreck my office and threatened to ruin my life.” In the second half, her cousin made an appearance, tearfully complaining about how our company was blacklisting the apartments and bullying local residents. I scrolled through the comments. They were filled with venomous outrage. Greedy corporate scum deserve to rot! Using his employees to bully a helpless landlord? Boycott this company! Simon looked close to tears. “Marcus, the PR department just called. Because of this viral video, our stock price dropped at the opening bell. Several partners we were supposed to sign contracts with this morning have put things on hold.” Tabitha had twisted the truth. Not only did she want to bleed my employees dry, but she wanted to use our company’s reputation as a stepping stone to play the victim. I tossed the tablet onto the desk and took a deep breath. “Get legal on this immediately. Tell them to gather everything and prepare a defamation lawsuit.” Simon nodded and hurried out. I leaned back, closing my eyes to clear my head. Tabitha’s move was dirty, but it was sloppy. She thought she could ride a wave of internet outrage to destroy me, but she forgot how quickly the internet can turn. Once we moved out, her little empire of cards would collapse. I picked up the intercom and called facilities. “Is the inspection on the new office complete?” “Yes, Marcus,” came the quick reply. “Everything is signed off, the air systems are fully tested, and we’re ready for move-in.” I tapped my desk, my eyes cold. “Good. Contact the moving company privately. This weekend, we pack up all core servers, equipment, and files.” That afternoon, Tabitha walked right into my office. “Well, Marcus, saw the video yet? How does it feel?” She smirked, sliding her phone across my desk. On screen was a screenshot of my message in the main group chat telling everyone not to sign the leases. Clearly, she had a mole in our lower ranks. However, she hadn’t seen the executive-level planning chats about the move. “Marcus, you really thought you could stage a rent strike against me?” Tabitha sneered. “Since you want to play games with your employees’ housing, let’s talk about your corporate lease.” I looked at her coldly. “Tabitha, don’t push your luck. This land lease was signed with the local municipality, not you.” Tabitha laughed. “Oh, Marcus. Did you really forget? When you first arrived here, clueless and eager, who do you think paved the way and handled the government paperwork for you?” “I secured the master agency lease for this entire plot first. Legally speaking, your lease is with me.” My stomach tightened. When I first came here, her apparent community-minded attitude had charmed me into choosing this location over better options in the city. I never realized she had set a trap from day one. Tabitha tapped the desk. “So, here is your official notice. Starting next month, your corporate land lease is going up eighty percent. From one hundred thousand a month to one hundred and eighty thousand.” “And on Monday, you will pay the eighty-thousand difference for this past month.” I stared at her greedy face and let out a cold laugh. “This is extortion.” Tabitha shrugged. “It’s just business. You’re the one clinging to a verbal agreement about fixed rates. If you think it’s too expensive, I have other company owners coming to look at the site on Monday. If you don’t pay, I’ll have them move in.” “I built this office building with my own capital,” I pointed out. Tabitha laughed so hard she practically cried. “So what? You want to tear it down? Go ahead, try! Otherwise, I’ll just let the new tenants use your state-of-the-art building for free. What are you going to do about it?” I looked at her smug face, and a strange calm washed over me. “Fine. Come see me on Monday.” Thinking she had won, Tabitha stood up, victorious. “Smart choice, Marcus. Be reasonable, and we all win.” For the next few days, Tabitha was nowhere to be seen. I saw on social media that she had flown out of town for a luxury vacation. Her caption read: No matter how big the boss is, they still crawl when you squeeze them. Raised the rent, and he didn’t even dare to whisper a complaint. I took a screenshot of the post and sent it to my leadership team chat with a single sentence: “Begin the move.” Over the weekend, the entire company executed a silent, flawless evacuation. By Monday morning, I stood alone at the entrance of the commercial park, waiting for Tabitha. She had just come straight from the airport, dragging her designer suitcase toward me. “Marcus! Out here waiting for me so early? I guess you’ve made up your mind.” She smirked, chin held high. “But I’ve changed my mind. It’s now a hundred percent increase. You owe me an extra hundred thousand today.” I didn’t say a word. I simply stepped aside, clearing her view of the road ahead. Tabitha’s eyes followed my movement. The next second, the smirk froze on her face. She stared at the empty space ahead, her voice trembling. “What… what did you do?”

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1 Five years after I altered my face and faked my death, Nolan walked into my flower shop. “A bouquet of white bellflowers, please. Pack them carefully. My late wife was very particular about these things.” My hand froze in the middle of trimming a stem. Only then did it strike me, with a dull, echoing ache, that today was the anniversary of my death. White bellflowers. Their language was hopeless love. Once, he had despised these pale, muted blossoms. During our worst arguments, he had even mocked me, saying I was just like them: bland, uninteresting, and entirely lacking the vibrant warmth of Yvonne. And now, he was buying them to mourn me. As he turned to leave, a small voice called out from the back room. “Mommy, I’m hungry.” Andy toddled out, rubbing his sleepy eyes. The moment Nolan’s gaze fell on the boy’s face, his pupils shrank. The child looked almost exactly like him. The memory of Yvonne’s threats from five years ago flashed vividly in my mind. Instinctively, I pulled Andy behind my back, shielding him from Nolan’s intense stare. “The boy was born without a father, sir. He is very timid. Please don’t frighten him.” It wasn’t a lie. The Nolan I had once loved was long dead. Nolan clearly did not believe me. His eyes searched my face, burning with a desperate curiosity. I lowered my head, avoiding his gaze. Seeing my reflection in the dark glass of the counter, I breathed a quiet sigh of relief. I had a completely different face now. There was no way he could recognize me. But Andy was a different story. Ignoring my protest, Nolan knelt in front of the boy, gently taking his small hand. His voice trembled with an urgency he couldn’t hide. “How old are you, little guy?” I quickly pulled my son back, offering a polite, practiced smile to mask my rising panic. “He is the child of my late husband. My husband had terrible luck, passing away just days after the boy was born.” Nolan froze. The light in his eyes flickered, caught between devastating disappointment and lingering doubt. Before he could press further, the shop door chimed. “Nolan, what is taking you so long?” Yvonne stepped into the shop, sliding her hand intimately through Nolan’s arm. But the moment her eyes drifted to my face, her expression hardened. Unlike Nolan, Yvonne knew exactly what I looked like after the reconstructive surgery. Remembering the terrifying promises she had made to me five years ago, my heart skipped a beat. Nolan didn’t seem to notice her tension. He subtly took a half-step back, creating a polite distance between himself and me, though his eyes remained glued to Andy. “The wind is strong outside,” Nolan said softly to Yvonne. “Why didn’t you wait in the car?” “I was too impatient,” she cooed, leaning closer to him. “I wanted to accompany you to see my sister. Even though today is the anniversary of her passing, it is also the final day of our five-year pact.” She looked up at him, her eyes bright and filled with tears, but I could hear the sharp, mocking triumph beneath her sweet tone. “You promised me back then that once she was gone for five years, you would marry me. Surely you haven’t forgotten? Besides, we have already been living as husband and wife for years.” She gently pressed her hand against her stomach, a blush creeping up her cheeks. “The entire high society of Port Vista is waiting for our wedding. Not to mention, the little one in my belly cannot wait much longer.” I felt a quiet jolt of surprise. Five years had passed, and they still hadn’t married? The air in the small shop grew suffocatingly still. Only when Yvonne’s smile began to fray did Nolan finally speak, his voice thick and raspy. “I haven’t forgotten.” He pulled two hundred-dollar bills from his wallet and laid them on the counter. “My apologies. I lost my composure earlier. You may keep the change. Your bellflowers are beautiful.” He swallowed hard. “My… my late wife would have loved them.” With those words, he took the bouquet and guided Yvonne out of the shop. My eyes drifted to his hand. When we used to walk together, he would always use his thumb to gently rub the back of my hand. It was a soft, comforting habit that used to make my heart race. Nolan, do you share those same quiet habits with Yvonne now? Just as the door swung open, Yvonne paused and looked back. She cast a chilling, warning glare in my direction, her eyes lingering with venom on Andy. Once the door clicked shut, the shop returned to silence. The strength drained from my legs, and I collapsed into my chair, pulling Andy tightly against my chest. Looking at the crisp bills on the counter, a bitter, hollow smile touched my lips. I understood her warning perfectly. It was time for me to move to another city. 2 After putting Andy to bed, I sat in the dim light of the back room, my mind drifting to the events of six years ago. Back then, I was the darling of Port Vista’s high society. My parents adored me, allowing me to pursue my passion as a runway model. I lived for the bright lights of the stage, enjoying the confidence of a girl who had never known hardship. My biggest worry in those days was deciding the size of the diamond for my engagement ring, or choosing which designer would craft my wedding gown. Until the day my parents brought a thin, sun-baked girl into our living room, their eyes red with tears. “Giselle, this is your sister. She is… our biological daughter.” I had immediately welcomed her, pulling her into my massive closet and offering her my most beautiful dresses. “Yvonne, we are sisters now. What is mine is yours.” I truly felt a sense of guilt, wanting to make up for the twenty years she had spent in poverty. I took her with me everywhere, sharing everything I owned. But I never realized that my generous promise would become the curse that stripped me of my life. With Yvonne’s return, the arranged marriage between our family and Nolan’s faced a major obstacle. Nolan’s grandfather visited our estate, his tone unyielding. “The future daughter of our family must be the true, biological heiress of your estate.” My parents remained silent. They loved me, but when balanced against the survival of our massive family empire, an adopted daughter simply carried no weight. That night, I locked myself in my bedroom and cried. Suddenly, there was a soft tap against my window. Nolan was standing in the garden below, his white shirt stained with dirt, his face bright with youthful determination. “Giselle, don’t be afraid.” He climbed up to the balcony, holding me so tightly it felt as though he wanted to press me into his very bones, gently kissing the tears from my cheeks. “I don’t care about their alliances. Even if I have to forfeit my inheritance, you are the only woman I will ever marry.” The night breeze had been cold, but his promise had been incredibly warm. With my family’s wealth, Yvonne quickly shed her awkwardness, growing more beautiful by the day. And gradually, the way Nolan looked at her began to change. One afternoon, as I was showing Yvonne a new skincare routine, Nolan had watched from the doorway, offering a casual remark. “Don’t overwhelm her with all that makeup, Giselle. She looks quite charming just the way she is.” We all froze, the air turning awkward. That was only the beginning. Nolan had always been fiercely protective of his personal space. Once, when I accidentally used his coffee mug, he hadn’t gotten angry, but he never touched that mug again. Yet during a movie night with Yvonne, when she complained of being thirsty, she grabbed his soda and took a sip. He simply took the cup back and continued drinking from it without a second thought. In the past, he wouldn’t even eat fruit unless I sliced it and fed it to him myself. But during a family dinner, he quietly put on gloves, peeling shrimp and placing them in Yvonne’s bowl. Meeting my stunned gaze, he quickly looked away, offering a low explanation. “Yvonne had a difficult life before she came back. She has never even tasted fresh seafood. I am just looking out for her.” “Giselle, you have always been a generous, kind girl. Surely you aren’t going to be jealous of your own sister?” His words felt like a heavy stone, crushing whatever right I had to feel hurt. I kept forcing myself to believe him, telling myself he was only acting out of pity. Until the day I cut my modeling trip short to surprise him for his birthday. The moment I pushed open his front door, I found a trail of clothes scattered from the foyer to the bedroom. His designer shirt, which I had bought for him. Her silk slip, which she had admired during our shopping trip and he had paid for. My mind went entirely blank. I walked toward the bedroom, and every last bit of my self-delusion was shattered by the sight of their tangled bodies on the bed. 3 That afternoon, I lost my mind, smashing every object in the bedroom. But Nolan didn’t show the panic or remorse I had expected. Instead, his eyes held a flicker of irritation at being interrupted. “Giselle, just be sensible for once and try to understand my position.” “Do you have any idea how much pressure our families are putting on us? If I give Yvonne a title, all our problems disappear.” “But you are the only one I truly love. Once we are married, we can still be together just like before. Isn’t that enough?” I refused to accept his terms, causing a massive scene and taking the matter directly to my parents, foolishly believing they would stand up for me. But my father simply delivered a heavy slap across my face in front of all the household staff. “Screaming like a common street harlot over a man? Is this how we raised you?” “Yvonne is the rightful bride of his family. As her older sister, you should be stepping aside, not trying to ruin her happiness.” To teach me a lesson, Nolan and my parents agreed to lock me away in a remote villa in the suburbs. The weight of their betrayal kept me awake night after night. I began to lose my grip on reality, wondering if I really did owe Yvonne everything. I had lived her comfortable life for twenty years, so perhaps returning Nolan to her was simply balanced justice. One evening, they arrived at the villa. From my locked room, I was forced to listen to them together through the thin wall. During the night, Yvonne accidentally knocked over a scented candle. By the time I realized what was happening, the room was already filled with thick, suffocating smoke. With his clothes in disarray, Nolan cradled a terrified Yvonne in his arms and rushed out of the burning building. I was left behind in the flames. No one had realized I was still inside. By the time the firefighters pulled me out, my face was entirely destroyed, and my vocal cords were severely damaged by the smoke. When I woke up, I was lying in a private sanitarium. My head was wrapped in thick bandages, and the doctors prepared me for extensive reconstructive surgery. Before I was taken to the operating room, I heard Yvonne instructing the surgeon. She told him there was no need to preserve my original features, suggesting they make me look as plain as possible. The brilliant, beautiful Giselle was reduced to a faceless ghost. I could no longer model, and I could barely care for myself. My career, my love, and my future had been systematically erased. On the day the bandages were removed, it took me thirty minutes to find the courage to look in the mirror. Fortunately, the surgeon had been kind, refusing her cruel instructions and leaving me with a simple, ordinary face. My parents, terrified I would cause more trouble, confiscated all my electronic devices and left me with an old flip phone that could barely access basic web pages. Even then, a foolish part of me believed Nolan would search for me. We had grown up together, sharing over a decade of memories. He knew I was in that villa. Every day, despite the pain in my scarred fingers, I searched his name. Nolan. Giselle. Fire. Missing. On the first day, there was nothing. On the fifth day, only stock updates for his family’s group. On the tenth day, still nothing. Finally, after two weeks, his name appeared across every major entertainment site. The alliance of two great families. Nolan purchases a flawless pink diamond for his fiancée, Yvonne, as their wedding date approaches. The photos showed Nolan in a tailored suit, looking down at Yvonne with a tender expression, a massive diamond gleaming on her ring finger. My hand shook, and the cheap phone slipped from my fingers, shattering against the linoleum floor. The last spark of hope in my heart went out. That same month, I discovered I was pregnant. Yvonne arrived at the sanitarium the moment she received the medical report. She looked down at me with absolute victory. “Giselle, Nolan is marrying me next month.” “From the moment we told him you died in the fire to the day he agreed to marry me, it only took him two weeks.” She let out a soft laugh. “Your ten years together couldn’t even stand against my two weeks.” She tossed a document renouncing my inheritance and a falsified death certificate onto my lap. “Sign these, take your bastard child, and disappear forever. Don’t try any tricks. Making a real death certificate for you would be incredibly easy.” I felt no anger, only a hollow silence. I took the pen and signed my name. On that day, the old Giselle truly died in the ashes of that fire. 4 A torrential rain began to beat against the shop windows. Andy was sleeping deeply in my arms. Just as I laid him down on the small cot in the back room, my phone rang. It was the landlord. “I am canceling your lease. I will return your deposit, but you need to pack your things and leave tonight.” I froze. “We have a signed contract. How can you simply throw us out? It is pouring outside. Where am I supposed to take a five-year-old child?” “Someone purchased the entire building for ten times its value,” the landlord explained, his voice defensive. “They specifically demanded that you be evicted immediately. There is nothing I can do.” He hung up. A cold dread settled over me. Yvonne’s retaliation was swifter and more ruthless than I had imagined. “Andy, wake up, sweetheart. We have to go…” I walked into the back room, and the air left my lungs. The cot was empty. The window was wide open, letting the cold rain spray onto the floor. My son was gone. I bolted toward the front door, ready to scream for help, but the door swung open and Yvonne stepped inside, flanked by several heavy-set bodyguards. She tossed one of Andy’s small sneakers onto the floor, wiping her hands with a look of disgust. Panic turned into pure rage. I lunged at her, but the guards quickly pinned me to the floor, forcing my face against the cold tiles. “Where is my son? He is only a baby! If you have a problem, take it out on me!” Yvonne smiled, pulling out her phone and tapping a video. On the screen, Andy was locked in the back seat of a car, sobbing hysterically and banging his small fists against the rain-streaked window. My heart broke. Tears mingled with the dirt on my face. He was the child I had nearly died to bring into this world. I had endured the agony of a back-alley clinic, biting my lip until it bled, just to hear his first cry. I had named him Christian, hiding a small piece of his father’s name in his own, a final, secret connection to the man I used to love. And now, he was being tormented because of me. I stopped struggling, letting my body go limp under the guard’s grip. “I will leave,” I rasped, my voice raw and broken. “I promise I will never return to Port Vista. Just give me my son.” I looked up at her, offering the words I knew she wanted to hear. “Yvonne, I am a dead woman. My face is ruined, my body is out of shape. Even if you stripped me bare and threw me in front of Nolan, he wouldn’t look at me twice. I will not get in your way.” I pressed my forehead against her shoes, begging for the life of my child. Yvonne watched my humiliation with a satisfied smile. “Is that so? Then why don’t you listen to how happy we are without you?” She dialed Nolan’s number and put it on speaker. “Yvonne? Are you home yet?” Nolan’s voice sounded distracted over the line. “I am still wrapping up some business, but I will be home soon. Stay safe.” “I am fine, darling,” Yvonne cooed, her eyes locked onto me. “The baby just kicked. We both miss you so much.” Listening to their exchange, I felt nothing. My heart had been hollowed out long ago. But neither of us had noticed the sound of heavy rain over Nolan’s receiver, or the slight tremor in his voice. Once the call ended, Yvonne raised her high heel and stamped it down hard onto my hand. A sharp, blinding pain shot up my arm. I bit my lip, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a scream. “That’s better. This is exactly where you belong, Giselle. You owe me so much more than this.” Before she could say another word, the glass door was suddenly shattered.

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1 Simply because I exposed her gold-digging boyfriend’s true colors, my hopelessly infatuated daughter shredded our family inheritance agreement right in front of me. With her eyes burning red, she glared at me. “Mom, you just hate that he is poor. You are terrified he is going to steal your precious money, right? Fine. I will give up my inheritance. Are you finally satisfied?” My chest tightened with a sharp, blinding pain, and my entire body began to tremble. “Are you out of your mind? Giving up a multi-million-dollar legacy for a parasite? I only have one daughter, Gwen!” “Don’t you dare call him that!” Gwen spat, shielding him. “You only care about money. What do I even need all that cash for anyway? I only want his love.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “You think you don’t need money? You think Javier would still treat you like a queen if you were broke? Do you honestly believe he would crawl at your feet if you didn’t have a dime to your name?” She ignored my words entirely, her face hard with stubborn conviction. “I don’t care. Javier is the only man I will ever love. Keep your inheritance. I only want him.” She grabbed Javier’s hand, turning back to offer me one final, venomous look. “Mom, you have controlled my life since the day I was born, and I am sick of it. I don’t want your money. If you want an heir so badly, go adopt another child!” My heart seized, and I collapsed onto the sofa, clutching my chest. Yet she only watched with cold indifference, turning her back on me to walk away with him. If my niece had not rushed to the house and called an ambulance, I would have died on that living room floor. The moment I opened my eyes in the hospital room, a cold clarity washed over me. … My husband passed away when Gwen was still a toddler, leaving me to raise her on my own. I poured every ounce of my energy and resources into grooming her, preparing her to one day take over my position at the Pinnacle Group. But recently, my assistant had been reporting a string of alarming updates. Gwen’s performance at the company had plummeted. She was arriving late, leaving early, missing critical client meetings, and even embezzling corporate resources. All of this was to spend her days keeping a jobless, shiftless man company. The unrest within the executive board was reaching a boiling point. Unable to watch her ruin her future, I called Gwen home for a serious talk. I never expected her to march through the front door with the man in tow. “Mom, I’m marrying Javier.” The words felt like a physical blow. I stared at her in utter disbelief. “You have known this man for less than a month. This is madness!” “I am not asking for your permission, I am notifying you,” Gwen dismissed with a wave of her hand. “I don’t expect a dowry from him, but make sure my trust fund and assets are cleared for the wedding.” I knew how fiercely stubborn my daughter could be, so I turned my gaze to the young man beside her. Javier offered a practiced, greasy smile. “Ma’am, Gwen and I are genuinely in love.” “Love is worthless in the real world,” I snapped, my temper flaring. “My daughter was raised in absolute luxury. A single handbag of hers costs more than your entire wardrobe. What about you? You don’t even have a real job. The tailored suit you are wearing right now was paid for by Gwen. Last week, she bought you a luxury car. What’s next? Are you going to demand she hand over the entire company once you put a ring on her finger?” “Mom! Stop insulting him!” Gwen yelled, stepping in front of him like a shield. I stood up, my voice rising. “I am stating facts! Mark my words, the second I am in the ground, he will strip this company of our family name and leave you with nothing!” Javier immediately feigned a look of deep, wounded pride. “Ma’am, I have self-respect. You cannot insult our love just because I come from a modest background!” “If you have so much self-respect, then walk away from her. Surely you wouldn’t want to stand in the way of Gwen living a better life?” Gwen glared at me, her eyes flashing with rage. “Stop trying to tear us apart!” I softened my gaze, looking at my daughter with all the gentleness I could muster. “Gwen, you are young. I don’t blame you for making a mistake. As long as you break up with him, the inheritance is still yours.” I slid the official inheritance agreement across the table. Without even glancing at the document, Gwen grabbed it and ripped it to shreds. “Gwen! Do you have any idea what you are doing?” She stood tall, her chin tilted upward in defiance. “Of course I do. You think he is after your money, so I am removing the money from the equation. Now, are you happy?” My chest throbbed, a cold sweat breaking out across my forehead as my body began to tremble. “Are you insane? Forfeiting everything for a dog like him? You are my only child!” The moment the words left my mouth, a sharp, agonizing spasm shot through my heart. But my daughter remained unmoved. “Don’t you dare call him that! Your mind is poisoned by greed, but I don’t care about your wealth. I only want his love!” “Love?” My voice cracked, turning thin and reedy. “You think he would look at you twice if you were a nobody? What do you think he is worshiping you for? Your attitude?” 2 Javier immediately seized the opportunity to play the martyr. “Gwen, no matter what your mother says, my feelings for you will never waver.” Predictably, Gwen gripped his hand, her protective instincts flaring to life. “Javier is the only one for me. I don’t care about the company, and I don’t care about your legacy. I only want him.” She looked at me as if she were a hero standing against a tyrant. “I have survived your suffocating control for twenty years, and I am finished. If you want an heir, find someone else to inherit your empire!” With that, she spun on her heel. The stress proved too much for my weakened heart. The agony in my chest bloomed, and I collapsed onto the sofa, gasping for air. Through my blurring vision, I saw Gwen pause and look back. “Gwen… call… call 911…” I wheezed. Gwen hesitated, but Javier gently tugged at her arm. “Come on, let’s go. She is just putting on a show to make you stay.” Gwen turned away. The heavy front door slammed shut, the sound echoing through the empty house. Before darkness swallowed me entirely, my niece, Cindy, burst through the door and rushed to my side. When I finally regained consciousness, the sterile smell of a hospital room filled my nose. Cindy was sitting by my bedside, her face red and swollen from crying. “Aunt Eleanor! You’re awake! Don’t move, I will fetch the doctor right away!” I weakly reached out, grabbing her hand with what little strength I had left. “Get… get your uncle’s final will ready.” Cindy was sharp, but her eyes widened in disbelief. “Aunt Eleanor, surely it hasn’t come to that…” If Cindy had not developed the habit of checking in on me regularly, I would have been a corpse by now. If Gwen could look at her dying mother and walk away without a shred of remorse, then I could easily cut her out of my life. I spent three days in the intensive care unit. Cindy managed the doctors, handled the paperwork, and stayed by my side. My own daughter did not call once. When I opened my social media feed, I saw Gwen’s latest update. It was a beautiful photo of her and Javier watching the sunrise on a beach, posted in the early hours of the morning. The caption read: Finally free. Here’s to forever. To her, my near-death was nothing more than a ticket to freedom. Cindy was carefully spoon-feeding me warm broth. Noticing the shift in my expression, she asked quietly, “Aunt Eleanor, do you want me to reach out to Gwen?” “No. She wanted her freedom and her true love. I am going to let her have both.” I immediately authorized the bank to freeze her corporate black cards, cutting off her endless stream of allowance. A week later, I was discharged. When Cindy helped me back to my estate, I was surprised to find Gwen’s white luxury sedan parked in the driveway. Gwen was waiting in the living room. She didn’t bother asking about my health. Instead, she tossed a thick folder onto the coffee table with a sharp slap. “Mom, I need a seat on the board of directors. And Javier is going to be the new Director of Sales. Sign the paperwork.” I looked down at the document. Everything had been prepared, waiting only for my signature. When I remained silent, Gwen tapped her fingers impatiently against the table. “I am not negotiating with you, Mom. If you refuse, I will resign immediately and take my primary clients with me.” She pulled a list from her designer bag. I glanced at the names. They were the crown jewels of the Pinnacle Group, accounting for at least five million dollars in annual revenue. “These clients only deal with me. The choice is yours.” The daughter I had nurtured for two decades was blackmaling me. Javier stood behind her, wearing a sickeningly smug smile. “Ma’am, your health is fragile. You should be enjoying your retirement. Leave the heavy lifting to the younger generation. I promise I will take excellent care of the company.” Gwen sat back, confident that I would capitulate, just as she always assumed I would soften my heart. “Fine,” I said quietly. “He can have the position of Deputy Director of Sales, with a three-month probationary period.” If she had not held our primary clients hostage, I would have thrown them both out. But for now, I had to secure the company’s stability. Gwen frowned. “Deputy Director? I demanded the director position.” “The Director of Sales position is occupied. Take the deputy role or leave it,” I said, my voice cold and flat. “Fine. Deputy it is.” Gwen pushed the folder toward me. The moment my signature dried on the page, she snatched the folder back and stood up to leave. At the doorway, she stopped and looked back over her shoulder. “A word of advice, Mom. Don’t bother fighting me. You won’t win.” At the time, I chose to ignore her arrogance. 3 It did not take long for Gwen to start making her move. During executive board meetings, she took every opportunity to publicly oppose my proposals. She claimed my investment strategies were too high-risk or complained that the returns were too slow. Even when a project was fully prepared for a routine vote, she would actively lobby the other board members to reject it. The older directors had watched Gwen grow up and naturally assumed she would one day inherit the empire, so they chose to indulge her. Because of her petty spite, the collective efforts of hundreds of employees who had worked tirelessly for six months were reduced to nothing. I pressed my fingers to my temples, exhausted. “Are you determined to throw this entire company into chaos?” “You started this, Mom,” Gwen replied, raising her chin. “You refused to let me marry Javier, and you refuse to give him a real chance to prove himself. Even when he tried to recommend some qualified candidates for our departments, you blocked him.” I felt the pulse pounding in my temples. “Javier tried to plant his own associates into our corporate finance department on his very first day. Do you honestly believe that is standard procedure?” Worse still, Javier had been using his status as Gwen’s fiancé to rack up massive personal expenses on the corporate account, dragging our reputation through the mud. “What is wrong with that?” Gwen argued, entirely unbothered. “You have brought family members from your side into the company before.” “A qualified financial controller and a high-school dropout hired for basic maintenance are entirely different things,” I said, my voice tight. “I had no idea you could be this blind.” Gwen slammed her phone onto the table, her face flushing with anger. “Why is it acceptable when you do it, but a crime when I do? You just hate seeing me happy!” “How can you say that? Do you have any idea how much time, energy, and wealth I have poured into your future?” Gwen pointed a finger directly at my face. “I never asked for any of it! You don’t want a daughter, you want a puppet you can control! You have been a bitter widow for so long that you are simply jealous I found a man who actually loves me!” A wave of dizziness washed over me, and tears of sheer betrayal slipped down my cheeks. For the first time in my life, I saw my daughter clearly. She was completely, utterly rotten. “Get out,” I whispered, the coldness in my chest solidifying into ice. “Get out of my sight.” “Gladly,” Gwen sneered. She snatched her phone and stormed out of the boardroom, leaving me in the silence of my own heartbreak. Cindy walked into the room a moment later, holding a stack of documents. She had run straight into Gwen on her way out. “She called me a pathetic lapdog,” Cindy said quietly, quickly pouring me a glass of water and handed me my heart medication. I took the pills, looking at her with deep appreciation. “Thank you, Cindy. I am sorry you have to deal with this.” “It’s fine, Aunt Eleanor. Gwen is just stressed.” She handed me the folder. “Javier and his associates were careful, but it took my team three days to uncover the paper trail.” “This is perfect.” After reviewing the evidence, I opened the safe in my office and retrieved a sealed document. It was my late husband’s final will. According to his original wishes, upon my retirement, Gwen was set to inherit seventy percent of the group’s shares, real estate, and liquid assets, while Cindy would inherit the remaining thirty percent. However, there was a strict, legally binding clause. If Gwen were ever manipulated, coerced, or made decisions that actively compromised the financial integrity of the Pinnacle Group, her inheritance rights would be completely forfeited, and the entire estate would transfer to Cindy. Gwen was my own flesh and blood. I had spent her entire life trying to raise her to be a worthy successor. But she had failed me in the most devastating way possible, allowing a cheap swindler to manipulate her into tearing down the family business. She did not deserve this legacy. Handing the reins of the company to Cindy was the only logical choice. The girl possessed both the loyalty and the capability required to lead, and her work ethic had been flawless since the day she joined the firm. I reviewed the documents one last time to ensure there were no legal loopholes. “Schedule an emergency board meeting for next Wednesday,” I instructed Cindy. “And contact our legal counsel. I want this execution notarized immediately.” Cindy did not ask a single question. She simply nodded and went to execute the orders. Over the next few days, I focused all my efforts on preparing Cindy to take the helm, ensuring she was ready to weather the storm that was about to break. 4 On the day of the emergency board meeting, every seat in the conference room was filled. Javier had joined the meeting under the guise of Gwen’s fiancé. In the past, I would have had security escort him out, but today, I let him stay. Gwen had dressed meticulously for the occasion. The moment the board members settled into their seats, she took the initiative to speak. “Since everyone is here, I have an important announcement to make.” She looked at me, her expression cold. “Mom, you are getting older, and your health is failing. These recent hospital stays have made it clear that the pressure is too much for you.” “I have discussed this with several of our senior board members, and we agree that it is time for you to transition to an honorary advisory role. I will be taking over the daily operations of the Pinnacle Group.” She exchanged a knowing look with the faction of board members she had lobbied. I sat at the head of the table, observing everything. It seemed all of the intelligence she had inherited from me was being used to plot my downfall. By forming an alliance with those swing-vote directors, she had secured forty-seven percent of the voting rights, which she believed was enough to force my hand. When I remained silent, Javier offered a patronizing smile. “Ma’am, Gwen is only doing what is best for the legacy. You have worked hard for many years, and it is time for you to rest. Gwen and I are ready to carry this burden together.” Looking at his smug face, I found the situation almost comical. If I did not intervene, Javier would bleed this company dry within a year, and Gwen would be left holding the debt while thanking him for the privilege. The room fell silent, everyone waiting for me to explode in anger at my daughter’s betrayal. But there was no anger left in me, only an immense sense of relief. I offered a calm, polite smile. “Actually, I called this meeting to announce a few transitions of my own.” “Gwen wants to run the company, and Javier wants to join the executive team. The two of them have caused quite a stir lately.” Gwen’s smile turned triumphant, and Javier straightened his tie, sitting up taller in his chair. I continued. “I have given it a lot of thought. As Gwen’s mother, I cannot stand in the way of her personal happiness. Therefore, I officially give my blessing for Gwen and Javier to marry.” Gwen practically beamed, looking ready to embrace Javier right then and there. “However,” I added, my voice dropping to a cool, clinical register, “the company is no longer mine to give.” Gwen’s smile froze. “What do you mean by that?” I looked her dead in the eye. “Before your father passed away, he placed his shares into a conditional trust. I am merely the trustee, not the absolute owner. According to the terms of his will, I am now executing the succession protocol.” A murmur swept through the room. Gwen stared at me blankly, but Javier was quick to react. He stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. “If it is her father’s will, then the estate naturally goes to Gwen, right?” The desperation in his voice was palpable. He could feel his grand prize slipping through his fingers. I ignored him entirely, gesturing to the legal team. The attorney stepped forward, presenting the notarized succession documents to the board. The lawyer looked toward Cindy, who was sitting quietly in the corner of the room. “According to the legally binding terms of the trust, the entirety of the family estate and corporate holdings will be inherited by Miss Cindy.”

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1 On the eve of our wedding, a devastating car crash left both my fiancé and me with amnesia. When my memories finally returned and I went to find him, I found another woman already by his side. “No matter what happened between us in the past, the only woman I love now is Sienna.” Looking at the girl nestled in his arms, I froze. Not because of his betrayal, but because her every smile and gesture looked exactly like the old me. Still, I refused to let go just yet. I forced my voice to remain steady despite the tremble in my chest. “What if you regain your memories one day? What if you regret this?” He knit his brows, his gaze cold and unwavering. “Even if I remember everything, I could never marry you.” Hearing those words, a quiet wave of relief washed over me. I turned around and sent a quick text to the man I had fallen in love with during my own months of amnesia. That title you wanted? You have it. … “I did not come here to force you into taking responsibility,” I said, looking up from my phone to face him. “Actually, while my memory was gone, I fell in love with someone else, too.” He remained silent. I paused for a moment before continuing. “After the crash that day, we both fell into the river. I drifted far downstream, and everyone assumed I was dead. But he rescued me.” Barrett frowned, his skepticism written plain across his face. “Whatever compensation you want, just name it. I will do my best to satisfy you, but there is no need to make up stories.” “I am not lying. I actually just accepted his proposal.” “Really?” He eyed me with deep suspicion. “Really.” “Then when is the wedding?” I hesitated. “The date is up to me, I suppose. Probably sometime next month.” “Marriage is a good thing,” he said after a long, heavy silence. “I heard we were almost husband and wife once, but we simply were not meant to be in this life. Since that is the case, let me walk you down the aisle as your brother. I want to see you off myself.” My hand shook, nearly dropping my phone. Before his memory loss, Barrett’s possessiveness over me bordered on madness. He refused to let other men near me, hated when they spoke to me, and would grow sullen if I spoke more than ten sentences to anyone else. No one could have guessed that a memory-stripped Barrett would be generous enough to hand me over to another man. “No, that is not necessary,” I stammered. On one hand, the thought of letting Barrett walk me down the aisle terrified me. On the other hand, my actual fiancé had a possessive streak that was just as fierce. If he found out, he would absolutely lose his mind. Barrett wore an expression that said I had just confirmed his suspicions. “Beth, since you chose to marry someone else, it means we have both moved on. Or are you afraid you still have feelings for me, and you will not be able to go through with it?” I knew he was baiting me. I also knew how deeply suspicious he was by nature. Unless he saw me standing beside another man with his own eyes, he would always believe I was secretly pining for him. I let out a soft sigh. “Fine. I will have to discuss it with my fiancé first. After all, a wedding is between two people.” “Fine,” Barrett agreed, offering nothing more. When I got home, I spent hours trying to reason with Owen. He threw a massive, dramatic fit, practically weeping and threatening to jump off a bridge, but in the end, he begrudgingly agreed to let Barrett play the part of the brother. I had not expected Barrett to take the role so literally. Over the next two weeks, he sent over an endless stream of wedding supplies: bridal shoes, designer rings, and even a custom gown he had designed himself. When I saw the dress, my breath caught in my throat. It was the exact gown Barrett had designed for our original wedding. Back then, everyone laughed at him, mocking a wealthy man for hand-stitching a wedding dress thread by thread. But Barrett had ignored them all. He had held me close, kissing my temple over and over. They do not understand, Beth. This is your once-in-a-lifetime day. Every single detail must pass through my hands for me to feel at ease. I had not even had a chance to try it on before the crash. And now, years later, the dress was back in my hands. “The moment I saw this gown, I felt it would suit you perfectly, so I bought it for you,” Barrett said, pointing to the exquisitely crafted lace. “The style might be a bit dated. I hope you do not mind.” I stared at it in silence. Originally, we did not need to rush the wedding. But when Owen heard Barrett wanted to walk me down the aisle, he stubbornly moved the date up by two weeks. He had argued with fierce jealousy. You do not get it, Beth. Men know men. He might have amnesia, but he absolutely still wants you. I finally got you, and if you go back to him, I will die right in front of you. I could not argue with his dramatic logic, so I had agreed. With the tight schedule, my petite figure made it difficult to find a fitting off-the-rack dress. Looking at the gown Barrett had provided, I finally nodded. “Thank you.” “Barrett really sees you as a sister now, Beth. Do not be polite. Go try it on,” Sienna said, appearing from the hallway. I had not expected Sienna to accompany me for the fitting. Every time I looked at her, I felt a strange sense of vertigo. We looked incredibly alike. Standing side-by-side, strangers would easily mistake us for biological sisters. Before I could fully process her presence, she gently nudged me into the changing room. When I realized the laces on the back of the dress were too intricate to tie myself, Sienna offered to step in. “To be honest, Barrett and I have always felt quite guilty toward you,” she said softly, her hands working carefully behind my back. “These past few days, he has been planning your wedding venue and preparing your dowry just so you can have a grand wedding. He only wants you to be happy.” She tied the laces with gentle, steady movements. I listened in silence, but I could not shake the feeling that she sounded relieved, as if she were finally securing her own prize. But when Sienna leaned down slightly, I caught sight of her collarbone. There, resting on her skin, was a birthmark identical to mine. Not only did she look almost exactly like me, but she even had the exact same mark in the exact same place. Could all of this really be a coincidence? “All done,” Sienna said, pulling back the curtain to reveal the mirror. “Beth, you are going to be a beautiful bride.” When I stepped out in the gown, Barrett did not spare me a single glance. Instead, his eyes were locked entirely onto Sienna. “You have been running around helping with Beth’s wedding since early this morning. Are you tired?” He gently wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. Sienna smiled and shook her head. After the fitting, we went to get lunch. Throughout the meal, Barrett showered Sienna with attention, pouring her water and putting food on her plate. But the way they interacted felt far too familiar. Before eating, Sienna liked drinking iced tea. She hated cilantro in her food. Even her preference for steak was exactly medium-well. It was as if she was meticulously mimicking someone else. When we went to the restroom, I found Sienna touching up her lipstick. I could not hold it back any longer. “Are you copying the old me?” Her hand froze mid-air. I continued. “The identical birthmark, the exact same eating habits, even the way you speak. Sienna, the world is not built on coincidences like this.” Her face instantly drained of color. Her hand trembled, and the lipstick slipped from her fingers, clattering onto the tiled floor. “What… what are you talking about? I don’t understand.” She scrambled to kneel and pick it up, her hands shaking so much she could barely grasp it. I sighed, bending down to retrieve it and handing it back to her. “I saw the birthmark on your chest. It is artificial, is it not? A quick visit to a scar specialist would prove it.” Sienna took the lipstick, her shoulders shaking as tears began to stream down her face. “I’m sorry. I just… I love Barrett so much, I didn’t know what else to do.” “I heard that after his amnesia, he kept searching for a girl from his dreams. I knew that girl was you.” “For years, I watched Barrett, and I watched you. I memorized every single habit and detail of your lives.” “I’m sorry. I stole your place.” I let out a soft sigh and stood up. “I am not telling you this to break you two up. I just want you to know that if he truly loves you, he should love you for who you are. If you spend your whole life acting like a ghost of me, you will burn out, and eventually, he will see through the cracks. Just be yourself. Trust that he can love the real you.” Sienna nodded, though her expression was unreadable. But the moment I turned my back, her eyes locked onto me, cold and sharp. By the time we returned to the table, Sienna had put her mask back on. “What took you so long? Are you feeling unwell again?” Barrett asked, looking at her pale face with deep concern. He looked ready to leave the restaurant right then. Sienna shook her head with a soft smile. “I’m fine.” “You always neglect your health,” he murmured affectionately. With one hand, he placed food on her plate, while his other hand gently rubbed her stomach. Realizing I was watching, Barrett offered a polite, apologetic smile. “Sienna has poor circulation and a cold stomach, but she insists on drinking iced beverages. She gets cramps easily. Sorry about that.” Memories flooded my mind. Back when I was a reckless teenager who drank iced soda during my period and ended up curled in pain, Barrett would hold me just like this, rubbing my stomach in the exact same circular motion. I chose not to say a word. Looking at Sienna, whose hand holding her fork was trembling slightly, I smiled and shook my head. “Don’t apologize. Seeing you two so happy and in love is a beautiful thing.” The wedding day arrived quickly. Having lost both my parents when I was young, and since Barrett had insisted on walking me down the aisle, I prepared for the ceremony at the Barrett estate. That morning, the housekeepers, the butler, and the driver were all gathered. Watching me slip into the wedding gown, their eyes welled up with tears of nostalgia. “Years ago, we all hoped to see Mr. Barrett bring you home as his bride,” the old butler whispered, casting a brief, uncomfortable glance toward Sienna before looking back at me. “Who would have thought life would play out like this? Seeing him hand you over to someone else… it is a cruel twist of fate.” Sienna’s face went completely rigid. Soon, Barrett arrived. He was perfectly composed, having clearly memorized the wedding protocol. He escorted me to the bridal car, carrying me over the threshold of the house, and finally placed my hand into Owen’s. Just as our hands met, a sudden gust of wind caught my veil, lifting the sheer fabric and fully revealing my face. Barrett froze, his eyes locking onto mine. “Thank you, brother,” Owen said, his grip tightening as he noticed Barrett’s lingering hold on my other hand. “Barrett?” I called his name, and he seemed to snap out of a trance. “The dress suits you,” he said quietly, his voice slightly strained. “You and your husband make a handsome couple.” For a split second, the look in his eyes had been filled with that familiar, terrifying possessiveness. My heart leaped into my throat, thinking his memories had suddenly returned. Fortunately, for the rest of the ceremony, Barrett behaved flawlessly. He was polite, poised, and played the part of the doting elder brother to perfection. “Sweetheart, we have to serve tea to the elders soon, and I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Owen whispered in the bridal suite during a quiet moment. He was gently massaging my lower back, which was aching after standing for hours. “Do you think he will suddenly regain his memory and crash the wedding?” Owen buried his face in my neck, his voice muffled. “They told me you loved him for eighteen years. I am terrified.” I smiled, running my fingers through his messy hair. “Owen, life does not work like a drama.” “But if he does remember,” he murmured, looking up at me, “would you choose him or me?” I cupped his cheek. “I am sorry I made you feel insecure. It is my fault you even have to ask.” After a brief moment of quiet warmth, we stepped back out to greet the guests. As we walked through the hall, I noticed Sienna looking around anxiously, but I did not think much of it. Suddenly, she stepped forward, blocking our path. “Beth, let me toast to you,” she said, her smile tight and self-mocking. “Thank you for keeping my secret. If it weren’t for you, Barrett probably would have thrown me out long ago.” She drained her glass in one gulp. She was acting strange, but before I could raise my own glass, I heard a sharp, splintering sound above us. “Watch out!” Before I could react, a shadow lunged forward. Nobody expected Barrett to throw himself over me. The massive chandelier crashed down, striking his back with a heavy, sickening thud. He let out a sharp grunt of pain before collapsing onto the floor, his head striking the polished marble. The crowd erupted into chaos, swarming the scene. I instinctively tried to step forward, but Owen’s hand gripped mine tightly. Sensing his sheer terror, I squeezed his hand back to reassure him and stayed where I was. Thankfully, the medics cleared him of any immediate danger, and the wedding resumed. Finally, it was time for the tea ceremony. I walked up the steps toward the head table. Looking at Barrett, who had not spoken a single word since the accident, I knelt and held up the cup. “Brother, please have some tea.” Long seconds ticked by. Barrett did not move. My hands began to tremble under the weight of the ceramic cup. I slowly lifted my gaze, meeting his eyes. “Brother, please have some tea,” I repeated. He did not take the cup. Instead, his grip tightened around my wrist, pulling me slightly closer. His eyes were dark, burning with a cold fury as he whispered in my ear. “Have you had your fun, Beth?”

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1 The night the marrow match results came in, I called my boyfriend, Declan. But the man who answered was Declan from exactly one year in the future. “Declan, I am a perfect match! My bone marrow can actually save you!” I pressed a hand to my slightly rounded belly, crying tears of pure relief. “Once we get you through this surgery, I have a massive surprise for you.” Dead silence filled the other end of the line. “Harper. I was never sick.” A violent chill shot up my spine. “What did you just say?” “Vanessa is the one who is sick. I took all the marrow they extracted from your bones and gave it straight to her.” My grip on the phone tightened until my knuckles turned white. “You told me she cheated on you! You said you wished she was dead!” His voice was terrifyingly calm. “Harper, when a man says he hates a woman, it usually just means he cares too much.” My throat closed up. A sharp, piercing cramp twisted deep in my abdomen. Before I could even process his words, the call cut out in a burst of static. A second later, my phone screen lit up. It was a text from the present-day Declan. [Harper, I am so sorry. The oncologist just gave me six months to live.] [You told me you would do anything to save me. Did you mean it?] The words burned into my retinas. A heavy, dragging sensation pulled at my lower stomach. Cold sweat broke out across my forehead. I rested my hand on my belly, struggling to draw a breath. For the past five years, from our college dorms to the real world, I had sacrificed everything. I even mortgaged my late parents’ Victorian home to bail out his failed tech startup. Why did I do it? Because he used to hold me while he was drunk, sobbing into my shoulder, swearing he would give me the world one day. Looking back now, it was nothing but a bounced check. Fighting through the abdominal cramps, I dialed his number. He picked up on the first ring. “Harper.” His voice was perfectly crafted to sound raspy and exhausted. “Is the text true?” “The doctor just made the final call.” He let out a heavy sigh. “I was not going to tell you. I was terrified you would not be able to handle it. But I just cannot bear to leave you.” I dug my fingernails into my palms and played along. “Are you really only given six months?” “The doctor said if I can find a perfectly matched bone marrow donor, I could actually survive.” “A marrow transplant?” I slowed my words down deliberately. “You know I have always had a weak immune system. What if my body cannot handle the extraction?” He paused for exactly two seconds. “Then I would rather refuse the treatment.” He answered without a shred of hesitation. “I refuse to let you suffer for my sake.” I stared out the window into the pitch-black night and almost laughed out loud. For the past month, he had been sneaking out to the balcony at 2 AM to take phone calls. Every time he crawled back into bed, he reeked of cheap, overly sweet perfume. He claimed it was just late-night networking with female angel investors, and like an idiot, I believed him. Sick of listening to his amateur acting, I made an excuse and hung up. The moment the screen went dark, a new message popped up. It was from the number claiming to be the Declan from the future. An image file loaded on the screen. In the photo, Vanessa was lounging in a VIP hospital suite. She looked perfectly rosy and healthy. She was holding an iced latte in one hand and flashing a peace sign at the camera with the other. A text immediately followed. [Do not go! He is completely healthy. The match test was for Vanessa.] [The aggressive extraction procedure is going to trigger a catastrophic hemorrhage. You will lose the baby, and they will take your uterus to stop the bleeding. You will never be a mother.] The twisting pain in my gut spiked. I hunched over, biting my lip hard enough to taste copper. Vanessa. Declan’s gold-digging ex-girlfriend. The woman he used to curse out every time he had a few beers. Male psychology really is a fascinating thing. The louder they curse a woman in public, the harder they protect her in the dark. A draft of cold winter air slipped through the window crack, clearing the last bit of brain fog from my head. A forced abortion? Losing my fertility entirely? All to buy a few healthy years for his manipulative ex? My five years of absolute devotion were nothing but a spectacular joke. I wiped the cold sweat from my brow and picked up my phone. I replied to the present-day Declan. [Okay. I will be at the hospital tomorrow morning for the full pre-op screening.] I hit send, then pulled my suitcase out from under the bed. The deed to the house, my passport, my bank cards. I shoved every single important document I owned into my leather tote bag. If they wanted to put on a theatrical production, I needed to make sure I had front-row tickets. The next morning, I stepped out of the elevator at the downtown hematology ward. I immediately spotted Declan sitting in a wheelchair at the end of the hall. He was wearing an oversized hospital gown, looking completely swallowed by the fabric. Seeing me approach, he lifted his head. His eyes were perfectly bloodshot. “Harper. You came.” He grabbed my hand. Two perfectly timed tears dropped onto my knuckles. The clammy, slippery feeling of his skin made my stomach turn. It took every ounce of self-control I possessed not to slap him across the face. I had been terrified of pain since I was a little girl. I even passed out at the sight of my own blood. Whenever I nicked my finger chopping vegetables, he used to make a massive fuss over me. Yet, to save his life, I had mentally prepared myself to endure a brutal, agonizing surgery. I gave him everything, and he turned it into a knife to stab me in the back. “Where are your lab results?” I smoothly pulled my hand away, pretending to dig in my purse for a tissue. “I want to see the exact numbers. It will help me prepare mentally.” His spine stiffened. He completely avoided my gaze. “The attending took them for the archives. They said we can just go straight to your screening.” He mumbled the excuse, reaching out to grab my sleeve again. Before he could touch me, the door swung open. A female nurse wearing a surgical mask walked in, holding a stainless steel medical tray. Her cap was pulled down low, leaving only her eyes visible. The second our eyes met, I recognized her. Vanessa. She grabbed the rubber tourniquet from the tray and aggressively wrapped it around my bicep. “Blood draw,” she muttered, deliberately deepening her voice. I watched with dead, cold eyes as she picked up a thick gauge needle. A second later, she intentionally missed the vein. She drove the thick needle straight into the sensitive muscle tissue of my arm. A blinding, agonizing pain shot through my limb. A dark purple bruise instantly ballooned under my skin. I hissed in pain, instinctively pulling my arm back. “Stop acting like a spoiled brat.” Declan frowned, his voice dripping with intense irritation. “It is just a little blood draw. The nurse made a mistake. Why are you screaming?” I stared dead into Declan’s face. My arm was swelling visibly, completely purple, and all he felt was annoyance that I was not being a compliant little blood bag. Pure, unadulterated disgust hit me like a physical blow. I stood up violently, ripping the rubber tourniquet off my arm. The tray clattered to the floor, sending bloody cotton swabs and needles flying. “I cannot look at blood! I am not doing this!” Ignoring Declan screaming my name, I slammed the door and bolted down the hall. I ran straight into the emergency stairwell and leaned against the cold ceramic tiles. My hands and feet were freezing. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I had not called in years. Dr. Frank. An upperclassman from my university days, and now the leading hematology specialist at this exact hospital. He answered on the third ring. “Harper?” He sounded genuinely surprised. I skipped the small talk. I gave him Declan’s full legal name and social security number. “Frank, I need you to pull his complete medical file. Right now.” I stood in that freezing stairwell for ten minutes. My phone buzzed. An internal electronic health report downloaded to my screen. I zoomed in, scanning line after line. Every single metric was perfectly stable. Everything sat squarely in the healthy reference range. No bone marrow failure. No terminal cancer. He was healthier than a prize-winning stallion. The glaring white light of the screen illuminated my face in the dim stairwell. Five years of my youth. My parents’ home on the line. All for a fabricated terminal illness. I locked my phone and dropped it into my coat pocket. They wanted me to be their sacrificial lamb? They could burn in hell. I pushed the door to our apartment open, and the suffocating smell of cheap synthetic roses hit me instantly. A lopsided heart made of pink electric tea lights was laid out on the cramped living room floor. Declan was wearing a silk pajama set one size too big. He was holding a tacky bouquet of red roses, kneeling on one knee right in the center of the fake candles. “Harper, I know I am running out of time.” He looked up at me, his eyes perfectly glassy. He pulled a cheap velvet box out of his pocket. “Before I die, I want to make you my wife.” He popped the box open. A ring sat inside. The diamond was so microscopic you would need a magnifying glass to see it catch the light. Five years. He blew through all the cash I got from mortgaging my childhood home. And at the very end, even his grand gesture of true love was insultingly cheap. My phone buzzed in my coat pocket. I glanced down at the lock screen. The sender was that unknown number again. This time, it was a photo. In a stark, white psychiatric ward, a skeletal woman with thinning, dead hair was rocking back and forth. She was clutching a dirty pillow to her chest, humming a hollow lullaby to a baby that did not exist. It was me. The version of me that was drained of her marrow, lost her baby to a hemorrhage, and completely lost her mind. Ice water flooded my veins. “Harper?” Declan reached out to grab my wrist, trying to force the microscopic ring onto my finger. “Do not touch me.” I slapped his hand away. A sharp crack echoed through the room. The velvet box flew through the air and smashed into the wall. The tiny diamond popped out and rolled into the dark abyss under the sofa. Declan’s tragic romantic facade instantly shattered. He let his real temper flare, his voice taking on its usual entitled, arrogant tone. “Are you insane, Harper?! I am literally dying, and you will not even give me my final wish?” “Dying?” I unzipped my tote bag, pulled out the printed medical records Frank had sent me, and slammed them directly into his face. “Do you have brain cancer? Kidney failure? Your vitals are stronger than an ox. Which doctor exactly gave you this death sentence?” The white papers fluttered to the floor. The top sheet landed perfectly face up. The bolded words Comprehensive Clean Bill of Health stared right at him. Declan looked down at the papers. The color completely drained from his face. He completely forgot to act weak. But it only took him a few seconds to pivot. He aggressively adjusted his collar, looking down at me with absolute, sickening entitlement. “Fine. Since you dug into it, I will stop pretending. The marrow is for Vanessa.” He took a step forward, towering over me. “You are always preaching about how much you love me. You said you would give your life for me.” “So what is the big deal about taking my place to save Vanessa? She is sick. Have some empathy!” What a fascinating leap of logic. Using my life and my body to clean up his ex-girlfriend’s mess, and he had the nerve to sound like the moral high ground. Looking at the face I had loved for five entire years, I felt nothing but absolute disgust. I did not waste a single breath on an argument. Smack. I swung my right hand with everything I had. I slapped him so hard his head snapped to the side. A bright red handprint instantly swelled across his cheek. He held his face, staring at me in pure shock. He never expected the quiet, obedient Harper to actually strike him. “You hit me?!” “I will hit a shameless animal anytime I want.” I shook out my stinging palm and glared dead into his eyes. “The show is over, Declan. If you want to save your pathetic ex, carve out your own bones. You are not getting a single drop of my blood.” I turned on my heel and grabbed the front door handle. “Do not you dare walk out that door! If you leave now, you are never coming back!” Declan screamed like a feral dog behind me. The heavy steel door slammed shut, cutting off his pathetic rage. The hallway lighting was dim and flickering. But my mind had never been clearer in my entire life. I dragged my suitcase down the hall. I had tossed my clothes in so quickly I hadn’t even zipped it closed. Before I could reach the elevator, a vicious, violent cramp ripped through my lower abdomen. The pain was paralyzing. I braced one hand against the concrete wall, bending over, gasping for air. Cold sweat dripped down my temples, soaking the collar of my shirt. Back at the apartment, someone was pounding on the door from the inside. Before I could catch my breath, I heard the sharp click of metal turning in a lock. Declan had grabbed his spare key and thrown the door open. A massive crowd of people spilled out into the hallway. It was not just Declan. It was half of our mutual friend group. And standing right in the middle of them was Vanessa, still wearing her surgical mask. This time, she dropped the act entirely. Without a word, she dropped to her knees right on the dirty hallway floor. “Harper, please! Have some mercy! Just give me a chance to live!” Tears streamed down her face. She looked like a fragile, broken porcelain doll. “I am out of time. You are the only one on earth who can save me.” The mutual friends who had tagged along started looking at me with heavy judgment. Declan took a massive step forward, aggressively shielding Vanessa with his body. “I never realized how deeply malicious you were, Harper.” He pointed a finger at Vanessa on the floor, then glared at me. “Your marrow will grow back! Her life is gone forever! How can you be so incredibly cold-blooded and selfish?” A guy who used to come over and eat the dinners I cooked chimed in from the back. “Yeah, Harper. Saving a life is the greatest karma you can get. Besides, it does not even cause permanent damage to your body. Why are you being so extreme about this?” Hilarious. Looking at this crowd of hypocrites standing on their little moral pedestals, I was too exhausted to even yell at them. The heavy, throbbing pain in my stomach was escalating rapidly. Violent waves of nausea crashed over me. “Excuse me.” I ignored their ridiculous speeches and grabbed the handle of my suitcase. I reached out to push past the wall of people blocking the elevator. Seeing that I was actually leaving, Declan lost his mind. He lunged forward, his hand clamping down on my wrist like an iron vise. The pressure was agonizing. “You are not going anywhere! You are coming back to the hospital and signing those consent forms!” He roared in my face, aggressively dragging me back toward the apartment door. “Let go of me!” I fought back desperately, using my free hand to pry his thick fingers off my wrist. During the struggle, he lost his temper and violently shoved me backward. He put too much force into it. I completely lost my balance. My heel caught the wheel of my open suitcase. I fell backward, completely out of control. My stomach slammed brutally into the sharp, solid oak corner of the entryway console table. A catastrophic, tearing agony exploded in my abdomen. A warm, thick liquid immediately began pooling down my inner thighs. I collapsed onto the freezing hardwood floor, curling into a tight ball, both hands desperately clutching my stomach. It hurt so badly I could not even produce a sound. I prayed with everything I had to protect the tiny life inside me. But my consciousness was already slipping away into the blinding white pain. Through my fading vision, I could still hear Declan yelling at me. “Stop playing dead! I barely touched you, and now you are throwing a tantrum on the floor?” Right as the darkness began to completely pull me under, heavy, urgent footsteps echoed down the hall. Someone violently shoved the crowd aside and sprinted into the apartment. It was Dr. Frank. He immediately stripped off his heavy wool trench coat and wrapped it tightly around me, completely blocking the prying, judgmental eyes of the crowd. Declan was still running his mouth, spewing toxic garbage. Frank pulled the medical lab results out of his pocket and whipped them directly into Declan’s face. The bolded words fluttered in the air for everyone to see. “Open your damn eyes, Declan, and look at what you just did.” At that exact second, the phone in Declan’s pocket vibrated sharply. The screen lit up. A text from the unknown number appeared. [I am begging you. Do not hurt the baby!]

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By the ninety-ninth time a meal made me want to vomit, translucent text suddenly floated across my vision. [The heiress is so pathetic. She wants to throw up every time she eats.] [She still doesn’t know her sense of taste was stolen by the scholarship student, Hazel, using a System.] [All those Michelin star meals she eats? The System transfers them right into Hazel’s mouth.] I dropped my silver fork. My stomach cramped, hollow and burning with acid. Across the dining hall, Hazel sat by the window. Her cracked plastic bowl held stale dinner rolls and cheap canned beans from days ago. She tore off a piece of the dry bread, put it in her mouth, and chewed with a blissful smile. She looked like she was savoring world-class caviar. Another line of text drifted past. [It is not just the taste. All the nutritional value is transferred too. The heiress is going to keep wasting away until she literally starves to death…] I pinched my own hollow, sunken cheek. The sharp sting of pain made me inhale sharply. The floating text was real. Well, if Hazel wanted my sense of taste so desperately, I was going to put my mouth to very good use. 1 My stomach churned with acidic hunger. I rested my head on the mahogany table, staring at Hazel across the room. My mind drifted back to the first time I met her three years ago. It was early September. Hazel stood at the front of the classroom wearing a faded, hand-me-down t-shirt. “Hi, I am Hazel. I come from a really bad neighborhood on the south side. I have to take three different buses and walk two miles just to get to school…” The classroom fell completely silent. Then someone whispered. “Three buses? What time does she even wake up?” Another muttered, looking at her clothes. “They are practically falling apart.” The voices were low but painfully loud in the quiet room. The girl sitting in front of me turned to her desk mate. “She is amazing. Coming from that kind of poverty and still ranking first in the entrance exams.” Hearing those words pull at my heartstrings, I genuinely wanted to help her. The very next day, I went to our homeroom teacher and offered to fully sponsor Hazel’s tuition and living expenses. But Hazel stood up in front of the entire class and flat-out rejected me. “I appreciate Sloane’s charity, but my parents taught me to rely on my own two hands. I refuse to live off someone else’s pity just because I am poor.” “I might not know what a five-star meal tastes like. I do not even know what a proper braised short rib tastes like. But I love my stale bread and cheap beans because I bought them with my own hard-earned money.” She bowed. The class sat in stunned silence for two seconds before erupting into thunderous applause. From that day on, I became the villain. Everyone whispered behind my back. They said the spoiled capitalist heiress tried to humiliate the poor girl with her dirty money. Even my own desk mate moved her things away, sneering at me. “Do not think you can do whatever you want just because you are rich.” That was the day the entire senior class isolated me. And it was the exact same day I lost my sense of taste. Steak tasted like rubber. Fresh greens tasted like bitter ash. Swallowing premium rice felt like chewing sand. I saw countless specialists. They all agreed my tongue was perfectly fine. They diagnosed it as psychosomatic. For three years, I forced down food that tasted like literal dirt. In those three years, my weight plummeted from one hundred and ten pounds to barely eighty. My cheekbones jutted out. My wrists were so thin you could count the bones. Nobody felt sorry for me. Whenever people looked at me, they just muttered the word “Karma.” Looking at the floating text above my head, the horrifying truth finally clicked into place. But I had never done anything to Hazel. Why would she do this to me? [If everything goes according to the plot, Sloane will drop dead in the middle of her final exams. Hazel will score perfectly and get a full ride to Harvard.] [The school board will even recommend that Sloane’s billionaire parents adopt the brilliant, hardworking Hazel to cope with their grief.] I stared at the word “adopt.” My nails dug so hard into my palms they almost drew blood. She had been plotting to steal my entire life from the very beginning. But I could not just confront her. I needed hard evidence. I skipped my afternoon classes, called my driver, and headed straight to the hospital. 2 Our elite academy did all its annual physical exams at this specific private hospital. Conveniently, my family happened to be the hospital’s largest shareholder. It took exactly three minutes for the chief of medicine to hand over my class’s medical records. The director reviewed my charts and sighed. “Miss Sloane, your vitals are dangerously low. Your body is showing signs of severe, prolonged malnutrition. But…” I knew exactly what confused him. I was the daughter of a billionaire. My three daily meals were prepared by private chefs and delivered straight to the academy. How could I possibly be malnourished? He shook his head. “We have run every scan available. We simply cannot find the medical cause.” I did not reply. Instead, I pulled Hazel’s medical file from the stack. Her vitals were absolutely perfect. Under the physical fitness assessment, the doctor had actually written “Excellent.” I pulled up her intake records from freshman year to compare. The difference was staggering. After three years of supposedly eating nothing but stale bread and cheap canned food, she had grown two inches and gained a very healthy thirty pounds. Unless she was tapping into some supernatural force, that was biologically impossible. Armed with the files, I took a sleek black car straight back to the academy. I walked into the classroom and stopped right in front of Hazel’s desk. “Did you do this to me? Did you steal my sense of taste?” The classroom went dead silent. Hazel looked up, her eyes wide and innocent. “What do you mean?” I slammed my hand on her desk. “You stole my taste. Every single thing I eat gets transferred straight into your mouth.” Hazel’s expression faltered for a fraction of a second before her eyes welled up with tears. Her voice trembled. “Sloane… I really do not know what you are talking about. I eat dry bread and cheap beans every single day. I buy them from the discount rack…” The rest of the class immediately stood up to defend her. “Are you psychotic, Sloane? Hazel literally eats scraps. She has it hard enough without you making up crazy conspiracy theories!” “You cannot blame other people just because your own body is failing!” Hazel wiped her eyes, reaching into her worn-out backpack to pull out a crinkled plastic bag. Inside was half a dry roll and some unappetizing pickled vegetables. “Look. I really do not eat anything good…” Her voice trailed off, making her sound like a heavily wronged martyr. “Really?” I let out a cold, sharp laugh and threw both medical reports onto her desk. “Then explain to me how a girl who survives on dry bread and pickles managed to get perfectly healthy, grow taller, and gain thirty pounds?” Hazel froze. She stared at the papers, completely lost for words. Right on cue, a familiar voice rang out from the back of the room. “Sloane, leave her alone! Just because Hazel refused your charity does not mean she cannot accept help from someone else.” Preston walked down the aisle, acting like a knight in shining armor. He placed a carton of premium organic milk gently onto Hazel’s desk. “Here is your daily milk, Hazel.” He looked so incredibly smug, as if Hazel’s perfect health was entirely his doing. Looking at the carton of milk, a wave of disgust washed over me. “Preston, did you forget who you actually grew up with?” The moment those words left my mouth, Hazel frantically shoved the milk carton back toward him. “Sloane, I am so sorry. I should not have accepted Preston’s kindness. I did not mean to make you jealous.” She looked down, her voice trembling. “I promise I will never accept anything from him ever again. Just please stop bullying me.” In one breath, she completely twisted my legitimate accusation into a petty, jealous catfight over a boy. Preston instantly stepped in front of her. “Are you serious right now, Sloane? I literally scoured the city for rare delicacies to help cure your taste loss. Are you seriously going to throw a tantrum over a single carton of plain milk?” My blood boiled. I pointed directly at Hazel. “I cannot taste anything because of her! She has some sort of system. No matter what I eat, the taste and the nutrients get transferred directly to her. She did this to me!” He did not even hesitate. He looked at me like I belonged in an asylum. “Do you even hear yourself right now, Sloane? A scholarship student from the slums used a ‘system’ to magically steal your taste?” “You are absolutely insane.” “You are malnourished because you refuse to eat your food! Stop projecting your eating disorder onto her!” I stared at him. I had looked at that face for over a decade, but right now, all I felt was profound disappointment. 3 I did not wait for Preston after school. I went straight back to my family’s estate alone. Staring at the massive, floor-to-ceiling wine cellar, an overwhelming wave of grief hit me. I popped the cork on a bottle of premium whiskey and poured glass after glass. I cried while I drank. Growing up in a strict, aristocratic household, I was never allowed to touch alcohol. I had absolutely zero alcohol tolerance. But with my taste gone, the whiskey did not burn. It did not sting my throat. I drank it like it was tap water, desperately trying to drown out the suffocating sadness. I drank until I felt physically full. Then my phone lit up with a video call from Preston. The second I answered, he started screaming at me. “Sloane, what the hell did you do to Hazel?!” “Why is she acting like this?!” I stared at the screen. Hazel’s face was flushed bright red. She was slumped over a trash can, violently throwing up. It was the most hilarious thing I had seen all day. “How would I know what is wrong with her?” I asked coldly. “And why is it automatically my fault?” “Who else would sabotage her?!” Preston yelled, his face contorted in anger. “Did you poison her? We were sitting here eating a perfectly normal dinner, and suddenly she started complaining about being dizzy and nauseous. Now she is completely delirious!” Hearing his blind accusations, my rage hit its absolute peak. “When my body started failing, I told you Hazel was behind it, and you called me crazy!” “Now Hazel has a stomachache, and without a single shred of evidence, you immediately accuse me of poisoning her?!” “We grew up together. Does a decade of trust mean absolutely nothing compared to her?” He held Hazel tightly against his chest, glaring at the camera with total disgust. “Hazel is not capable of something like that. You, on the other hand, are a spoiled, vindictive brat. I would not put it past you to try and ruin her.” Hearing those words, the very last trace of affection I held for Preston evaporated into thin air. “Believe whatever you want.” I hung up the phone. I was so furious I reached for another glass, but halfway there, reality crashed into me. I was drinking straight whiskey. Because I had no sense of taste, I was not getting drunk. But the physiological effects of the alcohol were being transferred to Hazel through her precious system! That was why she was dizzy and vomiting. She was experiencing severe alcohol poisoning. This meant that whatever I consumed, good or bad, healthy or toxic, went straight to her. I was a billionaire’s daughter. I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth. The formula I drank as a baby was the most expensive in the world. The water I drank was flown in from private mineral springs in Europe. My sprawling mansion housed a team of elite private chefs. In eighteen years, I had never consumed a single piece of garbage. Even my cold medicine was custom-flavored to taste like candy. That was exactly why Hazel chose to bind her system to me. For three years, she reaped the benefits of my luxurious diet. She never realized her system had a fatal flaw because I never ate anything remotely bad. Tonight was the very first time she suffered the consequences of stealing from my mouth. But it was definitely not going to be the last. A thrill of pure excitement rushed through me. I pulled out her medical report. Right under the allergy section, it was written in bold black ink. Allergic to Mangoes. I opened a premium grocery delivery app and immediately ordered fifty pounds of fresh mangoes. The very next day, fifty pounds of mangoes were delivered straight to the lobby of my private academy dorm. I hauled the massive boxes into my room and ripped them open. Dozens of bright yellow mangoes were neatly packed inside. I picked one up. It was smooth and cold against my palm. I hated mangoes. I had not touched one in three years. I locked my dorm room door and set up my phone on a tripod. I typed out a livestream title. “Eating One Hundred Mangoes Challenge.” I hit the go-live button. The viewer count started trickling in. I peeled the first mango and took a massive bite. I could not taste the sweetness. I could only feel the mushy, fibrous texture mashing against my tongue. I chewed twice and swallowed. Then came the second. Then the third. By the time I finished the tenth mango, the chat was blowing up, praising me for being a competitive eating god. Since the system was transferring the actual fullness and digestion to Hazel, I did not feel bloated at all. Quantity was completely irrelevant to me. Honestly, I was just dying to know what the physical limit was for someone with a severe mango allergy. The answer was fifteen. Right as I swallowed the last bite of the fifteenth mango, someone started violently pounding on my door. “Sloane! Open the damn door! What did you do?!”

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