Category: English

My assistant was supposed to post my retirement statement, but in her panic, she accidentally uploaded my “End-of-Year Private Summary.” In the forty-five seconds before she could delete it, my anti-fans had already taken screenshots. They sliced up my summary, mocking me line by line, tearing into me like starving wolves. But as they cursed at me, the people behind the screens suddenly started to cry. Because the very first sentence of the third paragraph read: “The chemo hurts so much. Grandma, I don’t think I can hold on anymore.” 01 Half a year had passed, and I was trending again thanks to my anti-fans. I honestly didn’t expect it. The speed of internet trolls these days was terrifying. From the moment my assistant, Maddie, realized the mistake to the moment she deleted it, only forty-five seconds had passed. But in that brief window, the haters had captured the entire summary. They even paid gossip accounts to boost the traffic, grandly announcing they would dissect my summary word by word to publicly execute me. I found it all quite meaningless. I didn’t want to waste my time explaining anything to them. But seeing Maddie crying her eyes out in the hospital room, hiccuping as she blamed herself, I changed my mind. I suddenly wanted to explain myself, just this last time. So, I logged into my main account and sent a direct message to my biggest anti-fan, “Sweetie Pie Crunch,” an account with over 260,000 followers. Suppressing all my emotions, I patiently explained what happened. But her hostility towards me was deeply rooted. Even when I told her Maddie had accidentally posted my year-end summary instead of my cancer retirement statement, she just replied with a rolling-eyes emoji. Then came a text dripping with sarcasm: [Making such a scene, you just want to grab the year-end headlines, right? Well, we’re helping you go viral now. Aren’t you thrilled? Elena, pretending to have cancer is so last season! Someone as full of lies as you, I’ll make sure everyone sees your true colors!] 02 Sweetie Pie Crunch blocked me. Then, she posted screenshots of our chat, vowing to cyberbully me until I quit the entertainment industry forever. In less than half an hour, the hashtag #ElenaFakesCancer shot to number one on the trending list. Even my own fans started to doubt me, wondering if I was really faking an illness for clout. Looking at those comments, I took a deep breath. Originally, I just wanted to hide this from my family and pass away quietly. But now, it was a massive spectacle. My manager, Sarah, told me I had to inform Nathaniel and the Sterling family. After all, when I’m gone, a family member needs to sign the cremation papers. But before I could even open my contacts, my husband Nathaniel’s call came through. His tone was as freezing as ever, laced with fury: “Elena, you did this on purpose, didn’t you? You knew Chloe’s new show premieres tonight and she needs that number one trending spot. How could you use such a despicable trick to steal her thunder!” I let out a bitter laugh. Nathaniel was my husband, but he only ever had eyes for Chloe. Soon, Chloe’s sickly-sweet, ever-so-forgiving voice echoed from his end of the line. “Nate, don’t yell at Elena. She hasn’t had any projects or exposure for half a year; it’s human nature to take desperate measures. “It’s fine, I won’t hold it against her. After all, as her older sister, I always feel like I owe her.” Chloe was my biological older sister. When we were little, just to steal my limited-edition Barbie doll, she deliberately abandoned seven-year-old me at an amusement park. I was kidnapped by traffickers and sold to a remote, impoverished village deep in the Appalachian Mountains, where I lived like livestock for twelve years. The very first day I was brought back to the Sterling family, I told everyone the truth about what happened back then. But no one wanted to believe that the elegant, highly-educated Chloe could do such a thing. Instead, because of my hillbilly accent and the deep-seated insecurities bred from growing up in the wild, they treated me like a pathological liar. In the beginning, I tried to please them. I tried to fit in. But no matter what I did or said, they thought I was playing manipulative games to bully Chloe. Just like right now. “Elena, the biggest regret of my life is marrying you to protect Chloe’s reputation!” Nathaniel’s voice returned, delivering an ultimatum dripping with disgust: “I refuse to let this mistake continue, and I won’t let Chloe suffer anymore! Next Wednesday, we are getting a divorce!” 03 Next Wednesday, huh. I glanced at the calendar. What a coincidence. I wasn’t going to live to see next Wednesday. “No need to wait until Wednesday. I’ll have my assistant drop off the divorce papers tomorrow. Sign them, and it’s done.” I finished speaking and hung up. My direct messages were blowing up again. Sweetie Pie Crunch had just leaked the first paragraph of my summary. This summary was Sarah’s idea. I originally wanted to write a suicide note, but she said the word “will” or “note” would break her. She begged me to write it as an “End-of-Year Summary” to give her the illusion that I’d still be around to write one next year. So, I just chronicled a few things that deeply affected me this year. The paragraph the haters posted read: [February 10th, my birthday. Mom and Dad gave the massive three-tier cake to Chloe, and handed me the tiniest mango cupcake. They looked at me with bright eyes, saying they hoped Chloe and Nathaniel could get back together. I looked at Nathaniel, who didn’t seem to think anything was wrong with this, and I couldn’t control myself. I smashed the cupcake on the floor. I told myself, once I find the evidence of what happened back then, I’ll make them all regret it.] The haters’ magnifying glasses zeroed in on the cake. They swarmed the comments under the post: [Elena is so dramatic. Holding a grudge over a piece of cake? Look at Chloe, she never complains about stuff like this!] [They gave you a small piece for your diet! Look at you, an actress who’s swollen like a pig!] [Reading this just makes my heart ache for Chloe! Elena is such a flop. She’s been trying to steal Chloe’s things since they were kids!] Unexpectedly, amidst the chaos, Sweetie Pie Crunch sent me another DM. She asked: [Elena, did you smash the cake because they completely forgot you’re severely allergic to mangoes?] I replied with a simple: [Yes.] As a professional anti-fan who studied my every move, of course she knew my allergies. She texted back: [Then why didn’t you write that clearly in your summary? Why not let the internet know you did it because your closest family forgot your allergy?] Write it clearly? This summary was meant for the people who actually cared about me. Those who truly understand me don’t need explanations. And those who refuse to understand me, like the Sterlings and Nathaniel—even if I explained it a million times, they would just think I was acting. I didn’t bother discussing it with her. She stayed quiet for a few minutes, then sent another message: [Fine, I won’t use the first paragraph to drag you. But the rest of it? You can never wash that clean!] She didn’t know that I never intended to wash anything clean. 04 Two minutes later, she released the second screenshot. She specifically added mocking emojis and enlarged the text. I clicked on the image. My own words stared back at me: [In May, Chloe and I were on the same movie set. Her leading role was bought and paid for by the Sterling family. The director didn’t dare cross her, but I did. At the wrap party, I slapped her across the face. I don’t regret it. If she pulls that stunt again, I still won’t let her off.] That night, Chloe slipped a drug into my drink, trying to send me to a sleazy producer’s hotel room to film a sex tape and destroy my career. Her assistant, Hannah, had a sudden attack of conscience and warned me. Furious, Chloe fired Hannah on the spot and had her bodyguards break one of Hannah’s arms. I slapped Chloe in the hotel lobby to get justice for Hannah. Paparazzi caught the moment, and it made front-page news. The next day, Nathaniel and the Sterling family publicly backed Chloe, leading the entire internet to cyberbully me. Surrounded and harassed by extreme fans, I was pushed, hit my head, and fainted. I was rushed to the hospital. That was the day I was diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer. Actually, I had begged my family to get tested for a bone marrow match, hoping for a miracle. But they just looked at me with disgust. “Do you really think faking a terminal illness will make us forgive you for what you did to Chloe? Let me tell you, unless you actually drop dead, we won’t believe a word you say!” “Chloe even stepped aside so you could marry Nathaniel! What more do you want? Why must you torture her?” They didn’t just curse at me. To avenge Chloe, they pushed me hard. I fell down a flight of stairs. Thanks to them, my internal bleeding worsened an already hopeless condition. From that day on, I moved into the hospital and never asked them for help again. I just endured the chemo, quietly preparing to say goodbye to this world. 05 The second screenshot caused an even bigger uproar. Chloe’s fans dug up photos of my slap from May as “evidence.” Right on cue, Chloe posted an update on her socials: [Elena, I’m sorry. It’s my fault for not caring enough about you, which is why you can’t let the past go. But a new year is coming. Let’s turn the page. I’m your big sister, I won’t hold grudges. Come find me tomorrow night, I’ll bring you on my New Year’s livestream to help you get some traffic.] Her “kindness” made my “violence” look utterly demonic. The public lined up to spit on me online. Some even tagged the police, demanding I be locked up for assault. Nathaniel’s second call came right then. “Elena, what the hell is wrong with you?” he growled. “I deeply regret ever having feelings for you. A vicious, cheap woman like you makes me sick just by breathing.” Oh, so he did have feelings for me once. But two years ago, when he got drunk and slept with me, he claimed I was just a stand-in for Chloe, just a meaningless release. The line went silent for a moment. Then, he sighed with profound regret. “Honestly, I wish they never found you. You ruined the peaceful lives we were meant to have.” My heart shattered, dying completely in my chest. I hadn’t cried through all my rounds of chemo, but I cried now. I wanted to scream: Then who ruined MY peaceful life?! Just then, Maddie burst into the room. “Elena! Look at Twitter! Something huge just dropped!” Nathaniel heard her over the phone and immediately flew into a rage. “What did you do to Chloe this time?! Do you want me to have the lawyers finalize the divorce tonight?!” 06 I wanted to answer, but my nose started bleeding again. I pinched the bridge of my nose, leaning forward, and spoke weakly into the receiver. “Nathaniel, look at the internet yourself. My nose is bleeding. I feel sick. I don’t want to talk anymore.” He let out a cruel sneer. “Elena, you are pathetic! Chloe gets a nosebleed from the dry weather, so you fake one too? Take a look in the mirror! A wild bird from the mountains could never compare to a swan like Chloe!” Pathetic? I remembered the day I moved out of the mansion. Both Chloe and I happened to get nosebleeds at the same time. I had just told them I had cancer, that bleeding could be fatal for me. But Nathaniel didn’t even look at his wife. He scooped up Chloe, panicking like a frightened child over a minor dry-weather bleed. When I confronted him through my pain, he accused me of imitating Chloe to steal attention. He had even smirked and cursed me: “It would be best if you actually did get cancer and died. Then nobody would compete with Chloe.” Well, his wish came true. The wild bird was dying. “Speak!” his voice dragged me back to reality. “Are you bullying Chloe again? Are you forcing me to send the lawyers now?” I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly. “No need.” 07 I prepared the divorce papers half a year ago. I wouldn’t waste his lawyer’s time. And I wouldn’t wait until tomorrow. Right now, I’ll have Maddie deliver them. I truly, finally, did not want this man anymore. 08 After Maddie left, I checked the trending pages. I saw what the “huge drop” was. Hannah, Chloe’s former assistant who had disappeared for six months, had created an account and posted hard evidence about what really happened in May. She uploaded screenshots of Chloe bribing the crew, paying for the drugs, and orchestrating the hit on my reputation. The internet froze. [Hannah worked for Chloe for two years. Her proof looks legit.] [But why would Chloe do that to her own biological sister?!] Chloe’s loyal fans desperately tried to defend her, arguing that I was constantly stealing Chloe’s roles and she was just retaliating. But Hannah immediately replied: [Those roles were Elena’s to begin with. Chloe actively blacklisted Elena, threatening producers not to hire her, while buying PR articles claiming Elena used the casting couch. Elena never touched Chloe’s resources.] Hannah was telling the truth. From my first day in Hollywood, Chloe spread rumors about me. Nathaniel believed her and used his wealth to blacklist me. I spent a year as an extra until Sarah, an independent agent, took a chance on me. But every time Sarah secured a good role, Chloe would swoop in and steal it, then buy articles playing the victim. Now, with Hannah blowing the whistle, the internet was a warzone. A Chloe fan furiously typed: [If Elena was really being abused like this, why didn’t she just speak up?!] Right then, Sweetie Pie Crunch posted our DM screenshots with the caption: [I can answer that! Because Elena Vance doesn’t know how to open her damn mouth!] 09 She posted the screenshot where I admitted they forgot my mango allergy. At first, people mocked me for being a doormat. But gradually, as someone pointed out, “Wait, why would her own parents not know about a deadly allergy?” the wind shifted. Bystanders were confused. How could a wealthy heiress be treated like this? A few insiders, previously paid off by Chloe, finally broke their silence. [Elena didn’t grow up in the Sterling mansion. She’s the kidnapped kid who lived in the mountains for twelve years.] [My cousin used to work as their maid. When Elena first came back, the elite socialites made fun of her accent. They tricked her into drinking mouthwash thinking it was a cocktail, and poured red wine on her cheap clothes at galas just to laugh at her.] [The Sterlings thought she was an embarrassment. They heavily favored the princess, Chloe, and constantly put Elena down.] [I don’t get it. If they hated her so much, why bring her back? Why not leave her in peace?] I had asked my parents the exact same question. But every time, they slapped me and told me to remember my place. I had silently vowed to make enough money to get my adoptive Grandma—the woman who saved me in the mountains—out of the psychiatric facility. But just as my career started, cancer kicked my door down. “Elena!” Sarah pushed the door open, her eyes red. She stared at the screen, her voice thick with emotion. “Do you get the feeling… that this Sweetie Pie Crunch is actually trying to help you?” 10 Sarah analyzed it: Though she used an anti-fan persona, the account was actually clearing my name. By leaking the “ugly” truths, she was forcing the public to see my victimhood. “When I held press conferences to explain things, no one believed us. But when a ‘hater’ leaks the truth to mock you, the rumors shatter instantly.” Sarah smiled bitterly. “If Nathaniel and your family understood you half as well as your biggest hater, you might have survived.” “Look, she’s dropping more details. It’s weird, her writing… it feels like someone who lived with you for years.” Sarah frowned. I stared at the avatar. I wanted to ask her who she really was. But my phone buzzed violently. The Sterling family group chat was exploding.

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When I was thirty-two. I became a sugar mama to a broke college boy. One day, while walking down the street, I saw him carefully holding a girl in his arms. His eyes were red, looking aggrieved yet restrained: “Please don’t think I’m dirty…” We had a very formal, transactional relationship. Why did he make it sound like I had defiled him? If he felt dirty, there were plenty of people who wouldn’t. I exhaled a puff of smoke, turned to look at a blonde guy passing by in a fake Balenciaga shirt, and said: “Ask him if he’s willing to call me ‘Mommy’.” 01 Cole was brought to my office that afternoon. The sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows on the thirty-second floor, landing on his Balenciaga T-shirt, Yohji Yamamoto pants, and Louis Vuitton sneakers. Fake. Fake. And fake. But you had to admit, he had a gorgeous face. Unlike Ethan, who had a cold, aloof, and rather proud demeanor. Cole looked like a product of modern technology, a plastic surgery template. Exquisite, cheap, and a bit vulgar. But I had eaten too much fine dining lately; today, I wanted some junk food. Since they were all selling themselves anyway, why should I find someone who did it unwillingly? As soon as he opened his mouth, I knew I had found the right guy. “I heard you want to be my mom?” “Should I call you that right now?” This guy was way too eager. But I wasn’t into that kind of roleplay. It felt like today he’d want me to launch his career. Tomorrow, he’d ask me to get him a lead role in a movie. The day after, when his sugar baby status got leaked, he’d be begging me to suppress the scandal. It was too cliché. Way too cliché. I ignored him and flipped through the file my secretary, Mr. Davis, had handed me. He came from a small town in the middle of nowhere. His family wasn’t poor; his situation was much better than Ethan’s, whose dad was a severe alcoholic and mom a gambling addict. His grades were average, much worse than Ethan’s. But he was actually two inches taller than Ethan. I looked up at him; he smiled, showing all eight teeth. He was handsome, sure, but a bit too fawning. I curled my lip, feeling a slight sense of disdain. “How many have you been with? Men or women?” Cole’s expression remained natural, showing no shame at being offended. “Just you!” Bullshit. I said, “Go downstairs later and Mr. Davis will take you to the hospital for a full-body checkup. If everything is fine, come see me in a week.” “Yes, ma’am.” He left, looking thrilled. As he turned around, I caught sight of his perky rear end. I pondered for two seconds whether he was wearing padded underwear. 02 A week later. Cole hadn’t shown up yet, but I ran into Ethan instead. He was wearing a faded dress shirt, washed-out jeans, and a pair of Converse. Fresh and handsome, the quintessential poor but brilliant campus crush. He stepped off the bus; he wouldn’t even splurge on an Uber. I really had no idea what he spent the $30,000 I gave him every month on. Don’t misunderstand. He didn’t come looking for me; I was usually the one who went to him. He was working part-time at the coffee shop downstairs from my office. Looking like that, he naturally attracted young girls asking for his number again. Ethan politely refused, saying he already had someone he liked. In the past, I would have confidently assumed he meant me. After all, I was beautiful, rich, and generous. The key was that last part. What was the difference between not liking me and not liking money? It wasn’t like I needed him to be madly in love with me. We were all adults here. Taking so much from me but not offering a shred of affection seemed a bit hypocritical. I walked in and casually found a seat. Ethan didn’t notice me. Just then, a meticulously dressed girl walked in. Ethan spotted her immediately, and at the same time, froze in nervousness. The girl was wearing a tweed Chanel suit and a Miu Miu hair clip, exuding a wealthy heiress vibe. I hadn’t looked closely at her the last time we were on campus. This time, I got a clear look at her face. I ran through the socialites of New York high society in my head, but couldn’t place which family she belonged to. While my mind wandered, Ethan’s face had turned completely red. I heard him cautiously ask: “Are you here to see me?” The girl raised her chin and said: “No, I just heard the coffee here is good.” If Ethan had a tail, it would be drooping right now. “Can you recommend some coffee?” Ethan immediately and diligently went through all the coffees on the menu. He explained everything in painstaking detail, describing the origins and tasting notes of every single bean. The people waiting in line behind her got impatient and left. The girl, however, seemed to have tuned him out and casually ordered the house special. Ethan thoughtfully explained how to drink it, warning her that it might be a bit bitter. He was completely different from how he acted in front of me—he was acting as humble and subservient as possible. I didn’t feel angry. Just confused. Why didn’t he act like this in front of me? I was his client, after all. A moment later, it dawned on me, and I chuckled softly. He seemed to think— That his youth, traded for my $30,000 a month, a gifted condo, and countless presents, was a fair exchange of equal value. The men in my family had a tradition of keeping mistresses. I had seen female college students, actresses, and even some professionals. A few days ago, my uncle almost got a girl pregnant and had to pay a three million dollar severance fee. A sugar mama as generous and not-hard-to-look-at as me was incredibly hard to find. Consent didn’t mean he wasn’t getting the better end of the deal. Before, when I spoiled Ethan, I didn’t care about this pocket change. He took my money but stood me up several times. He’d use excuses like tutoring, working part-time, or having student council work or lab duties. I never got mad; I even had my housekeeper make soup and deliver it to him. Once, my dad caught me and, thinking I was actually dating, gave me a warning: “Don’t get in too deep.” My indulgence toward Ethan made everyone think my feelings for him were quite extraordinary. It’s funny to say. It’s not that I hadn’t had moments where I thought that myself. Before I kicked my brother out of the country and sat in the CEO’s chair, I had never been in a relationship. Of course, I hadn’t wanted to be in one, either. Watching this unfold, I felt a bit bored, so I got up and left the coffee shop. As I was leaving, the bell on the door jingled. The person standing behind the counter seemed to look over. 03 That evening. Cole arrived at my villa. To my surprise. His physical exam report showed he was clean and perfectly healthy; not even a minor nodule. Unlike his previous outfit, which was covered in fake, massive logos, he dressed very simply this time. A white T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. His previously heavily-gelled hair now hung loosely, slightly covering his eyes. Mr. Davis must have given him instructions to dress like Ethan. I frowned, but before I could say anything, the person in front of me pulled off his T-shirt. An eight-pack of abs, firm and defined. I couldn’t tell if they were real or not. He let out two goofy laughs: “Ma’am, do you not like me dressing like this?” “I don’t like it either.” Saying that, he walked over familiarly and touched my hand. I didn’t react in time. I instantly felt like I had been taken advantage of by a cheap street punk. Until he took the hair tie from my wrist. He gathered his somewhat long hair and tied it into a small bun at the back of his head. I breathed a sigh of relief. Then I heard him say: “Ma’am, are you hungry? I can make you some noodles.” I almost choked on my sigh of relief. He watched the housekeeper come out of the kitchen, grab a trash bag, and leave, saying with a hint of regret, “Looks like you already ate.” I understood the implication, hesitated for a moment, and asked him: “Have you not eaten? Do you want some…” Before I could finish, he said, “Thank you.” He even found an excuse for himself: “I need to eat enough so I have the energy to serve you later, ma’am.” Me: “…” Then he made himself three bowls of noodles and inhaled them like he was starving. I recalled the information in his file; he shouldn’t be so poor he couldn’t afford to eat. I said: “There’s still steak in the fridge.” Cole shook his head and said: “No need for steak. I have to work first before I can get paid.” I understood. For a moment, I actually felt a bit gratified, once again confirming my decision. I really should find someone like this whose sole focus is securing his meal ticket. Half an hour later. I regretted it. The clean scent of body wash enveloped me. The initial trace of unfamiliarity was replaced by intense heat, quickly making me unable to think about anything else. Cole didn’t forget to provide emotional value. “Ma’am, you’re so beautiful. I really hit the jackpot.” “Ma’am, this feels amazing.” I felt like I was degrading myself. Like I had hired a farmhand in a rural village. This feeling lasted until noon the next day. I asked in despair, “Did you take something?” “What?” Cole froze for a moment. “Yeah, I took ten pills, just to make sure you were satisfied, ma’am.” Bullshit. He didn’t take anything. He was just trying to show off his “service attitude,” trying to fool me! Finally. At two in the afternoon, I dragged myself up, clutching my lower back. I had a meeting I couldn’t miss, so I had to crawl to the office if I had to. While I was getting dressed, I heard Cole say: “Ma’am, can you get me into the entertainment industry?”

I was driving past a local high school when I saw a young girl tugging on the faded sleeve of a teenage boy, timidly calling him “Julian.” The boy had a clean, handsome face, standing tall and straight like a birch tree. I said, “Bring him over.” “Miss?” I lifted my chin, my tone indifferent: “No reason, I just feel like sponsoring someone too.” (01) Our butler, Mr. Henderson, was always highly efficient. The “Julian” that Chloe mentioned soon appeared before me. When he was brought in, I was flipping through his file. Julian Vance. Exceptional looks. Even his ID photo captured a clear, ethereal handsome face. Just based on his features, he could easily outshine the posters of the latest teen heartthrobs plastered all over the streets. However, his current condition wasn’t great. He looked mentally exhausted, with a faint hint of haggardness. I wasn’t surprised; I guessed he had run into some trouble. Julian was an orphan from a poor background. His only family was his grandmother, who had just been diagnosed with late-stage liver cancer and was lying in a hospital bed. He had been an outstanding student since childhood, working part-time to subsidize his family’s income, and was admitted to Columbia University as the valedictorian of his high school. Everyone who knew him praised him endlessly; his resume was flawless. Chloe Davis was his neighbor and childhood friend. But a teenage girl’s feelings are hard to hide. I could see her admiration. No wonder Arthur was so furious. (02) Arthur was usually a very calm and indifferent person. I had never seen him experience intense emotional fluctuations, but lately, he was frequently distracted, and his eyes were dark and brooding. Yesterday, before I even walked into his office, I heard him on the phone. It was the condescending advice of an elder, half-admonition, half-warning. He said, “Chloe, you have your SATs coming up. You need to focus on your studies. Be careful about how you interact with your classmates; you never truly know someone’s heart.” His usually cold and composed tone couldn’t hide the burning jealousy. My hand, which had been about to knock on the door, paused. I had originally had the housekeeper make soup to bring over, but suddenly, I lost all interest in having dinner with him. Lately, his attitude towards me had been visibly perfunctory. Even his verbal greetings felt like a chore. He didn’t care who I was with or what I was doing. But he was like that with everyone. Until the news that he was sponsoring a poor student reached my ears. Arthur wasn’t the type to love doing charity. But for her, he planted an entire field of flowers, took her out to sea to watch the sunrise, accompanied her on walks through every corner of the city, and spent a fortune to get her an exchange student spot. He even got jealous like a hot-headed teenager. People laughed at him for keeping a mistress in a golden cage. At first, my reaction was displeasure, and then I wanted to cut off the relationship. After all, he was someone I had held onto for so many years. “Miss,” Mr. Henderson frowned, hesitating, “About Mr. Arthur sponsoring that girl…” Mr. Henderson was a butler specifically chosen for me by my family. He was loyal but not rigid, and sometimes his methods weren’t exactly above board. His eyes were dark; he probably meant to “handle” Chloe, this “stumbling block,” for me. “Let’s go,” I interrupted him. Let it be. Making a fuss would be meaningless; it would just make me look like a bitter woman. I couldn’t be bothered to bring this matter out into the open. If he deliberately hid it from me, what would it matter if I found out the truth? Throw evidence at him and force him to admit it? And then watch him choose? He might choose me; after all, that’s what he used to do. The Sterling family was an untouchable giant, but their only daughter, Evelyn Sterling, was an eccentric cripple. I was a piece of fat meat that everyone coveted. Or, to put it another way, I was like a rotting corpse. Even if it stank to high heaven, there would still be a flock of vultures circling me, eager to peck me away. I was a highly sought-after marriage prospect that they all scrambled for. Even if Arthur was completely unwilling, he would maintain this marriage in name only. Just like in the past, when the capricious me suddenly threw a tantrum at him, he would only endure it and look at me calmly. Then, when my anger subsided, he would send me a gift as an apology. The gifts were probably picked out by his assistant. Sometimes it was a designer bag, sometimes jewelry; it didn’t show much thought. But I didn’t need him to say anything, and my anger would easily dissipate. After all, everyone said I liked him, loved him dearly. I never denied it, because I thought so too. But now, just thinking about that possibility gave me a slight feeling of nausea. It felt disgusting. But I never felt this way before. The glass reflected my face, pale and bloodless. I stared at myself absentmindedly. Seeing that I had no intention of speaking, Mr. Henderson stayed silent and pushed my wheelchair, taking me away. (03) My health was poor, and I had trouble with my legs. It wasn’t that I couldn’t walk at all, but rather that I was too weak to stand for long periods. But when he saw me sitting in the wheelchair, Julian didn’t show the pity and shock that others usually did. He didn’t even glance at my legs much, respectfully lowering his eyes, his features gentle and restrained. Mr. Henderson informed him of the details of my sponsorship. The terms were exceptionally generous and lenient. If he met my requirements, he could even receive a large sum of money sufficient to settle his family. Julian’s fingers, hanging by his sides, curled slightly. The gifts of fate always come with a price tag. He couldn’t possibly fail to guess that there’s no such thing as a free lunch. Mr. Henderson, ever thorough, saw his hesitation and explained that this time he was just coincidentally chosen as an investment target for a certain charity project. I didn’t say anything, although I felt it was unnecessary. I was certain Julian wouldn’t refuse. He must have been crushed under the pressure. Arthur wouldn’t actively target Julian, but Arthur only needed to show a hint of displeasure, and there would be people who thought themselves clever doing things to “please” Arthur. For example, easily destroying Julian’s part-time job, taking away his grandmother’s hospital bed, and then spreading some rumors so he couldn’t even stand at school. Someone with nowhere to turn, what room did he have to refuse? Who else could he ask for help, and who could he ask what exactly he had done wrong? But he didn’t say “okay” from beginning to end. Until Mr. Henderson left and closed the door. “Miss Sterling,” Julian’s eyes were clear, and he asked frankly, “What do I need to do for you?” I felt a little uncomfortable and rested my head on the table. After a long while, I murmured an acknowledgment. Julian noticed my discomfort. Seeing that I didn’t speak, he hesitated for a moment, then poured me a glass of warm water. His long fingers pushed the porcelain cup towards me; it had a jade-like texture. Then, I saw him speak. I couldn’t hear the words, only saw his beautifully shaped thin lips moving, seeming to ask if I needed him to call Mr. Henderson. The sunlight fell on my eyelashes. I squinted, observing his distant and handsome features. Suddenly, I felt very satisfied. He was quite good-looking, no worse than Chloe. What did I want him to do for me? I hadn’t decided. I was just curious. (04) The Sterling family had many eyes and ears. The matter Arthur tried so hard to conceal reached my ears within half a day. It was just that in the past, I didn’t care and pretended not to know. In my eyes and heart, there was only Arthur. I relied on him; as long as he stayed with me and was willing to coax me, that was enough. But this time was different. I suddenly developed a very strong curiosity about things other than Arthur. Arthur had told his friends that he felt like he was raising a flower with his own hands. Watching her grow, bloom, stand tall and graceful, blooming wildly in the mountains, shining because of his sunlight, and becoming shy because of his rain—a flower that bloomed only for him. He was addicted to this feeling. He described it so well; I wanted to try it too. “I want to plant a tree,” I suddenly said, very seriously and slowly. “I want to experience giving him sunlight, dew, and watching him grow.” Julian froze. He didn’t understand what I meant and looked a bit bewildered. I let out a small yawn and switched to a more straightforward way of speaking: “I want to keep you.” He was basically at a dead end now. If only I helped him, then he could be considered a tree growing for me, right? Julian remained silent. Then, his ears turned red. He looked a little distressed, a little awkward, and a little speechless. I knew this sentence might sound a bit frivolous, but I didn’t care much. I figured he must feel humiliated. But for some reason, he looked at me, his features still gentle, showing a hint of helplessness, which diluted that distancing aloofness. He even crouched down, smoothed the blanket that had slipped on my knees, and brushed off the dust that had fallen on it. This reaction was completely different from the female leads in TV dramas who would argue righteously, “You’re insulting me.” “Miss Sterling…” he hesitated, asking uncertainly, “Will you tell your family about this?” (05) To be honest, it took me a long time to understand what he meant. Because I had poor absorption when I was young, I didn’t get enough nutrients and developed slower. Even with all the supplements later, I still looked younger than my peers. So he thought I was a minor and needed to inform my parents before making a decision. What made him think I was a minor? I felt stifled. He clearly should know my identity and the world of difference between him and me. Yet he wasn’t afraid of me, nor did he revere me. He even dared to question my decision, thinking I was playing house. When Chloe looked at Arthur, it was with respect and admiration. She looked at him as if looking at her god and faith. Arthur was very proud of this. But Julian looked at me like he was looking at a younger sister throwing a tantrum; he was underestimating me. I got angry, so I abruptly stuck out my leg and kicked him. Not hard, but my shoe flew off. In the past, when I liked to throw random tantrums, Arthur would usually turn and walk away, and everyone else was used to staying three feet away. But Julian didn’t hide. He didn’t even move, and a light gray shoe print instantly appeared on his pristine white shirt. I was stunned for a few seconds, a little unaccustomed to it. “I’m keeping you; no need to tell anyone else,” I slowly retracted my leg after a moment and said sluggishly. “So you have to listen to me and be on call.” He was silent for a few seconds. Unexpectedly, he didn’t raise any conditions but half-crouched down and gently put the shoe back on for me. “Okay,” Julian looked up at me. “I understand.” I felt like he sighed, but maybe he didn’t. After he left, I called Mr. Henderson. “I had a few outfits made at The Tailor’s,” I nonchalantly touched the blanket on my knees. “Send them over for me.” The Tailor’s was a bespoke tailoring shop that was a status symbol in New York. Ordinary families had to wait in line, but the Sterlings didn’t. Mr. Henderson instinctively asked, “Are they for Mr. Arthur…” What Mr. Arthur? I hadn’t snapped back to reality, my mind filled only with that glaring stain on Julian’s clothes. Didn’t he know how to dodge? A birch tree with a black smudge wouldn’t look good. Mr. Henderson knew me too well. He glanced at my expression and naturally changed the name: “Send them to Mr. Vance.” A college boy who just started school, being called ‘Mr.’ I frowned. “Don’t call him Mr. Vance, call him…” Mr. Henderson respectfully lowered his head, waiting for my final word. I was stuck for a long time: “Just call him… Little Tree!” (06) I gradually began to understand the joy Arthur spoke of. When Julian met me for the first time, although his clothes were washed clean, you could tell they were slightly old, and so were his shoes; he had probably worn them for years. I sent him new clothes, and he wore them. I disliked that he ate steamed buns and pickles every day, so I had someone deliver meals to him daily. As expected, I saw his complexion improve significantly, and he finally didn’t look so frail. I saw how exhausted he was taking care of his grandmother every day, so I simply moved her to a private room and hired a dedicated caregiver. Julian didn’t refuse, but he would seriously thank me every time. He remembered every expense clearly: “I will pay you back, Miss Sterling.” “I don’t want money.” My tone was casual. Remembering something, I became bossy, “Since I’m sponsoring you, I only sponsor the best. You must get first place in your department this semester.” It was a question, but it was also a command. Julian was slightly taken aback, then nodded. “Okay.” He then carefully chose his words and asked what I liked. Probably planning a return gift. I thought it was unnecessary. I originally wanted to ask him what he could afford to give, but seeing him standing clean and refreshing in the sunlight, I felt great. This was a handsome and elegant young man. Clothes make the man; now he was even more suave and charming, reminding people of a jade-like gentleman. Is this what planting a tree is like? No wonder Arthur liked it. It was truly delightful. “I like plants,” I rested my chin on my hand. “Not flowers, they’re too easy to kill.” Julian: “…” He agreed, and really gave me a pot of succulents he cultivated himself. This was completely different from Arthur. The gifts I gave Arthur disappeared without a trace after he received them. Arthur wouldn’t thank me either; his attitude was always that it was expected. Actually, I didn’t care before, but now I know that originally, getting a response was this kind of feeling. Like dropping a coin into the water and hearing the splash. It sounded quite nice. So the object of my gift-giving changed from Arthur to Julian. For this reason, I specially bought a small greenhouse and filled it with lush potted plants. They were all gifts from Julian, and it quickly turned into an ocean of green. (07) It wasn’t until Arthur came to see me that I remembered I hadn’t seen him in a long time. I also hadn’t sent him any messages to care about him in a long time. But I withheld the news that I was sponsoring Julian; after all, Arthur had also hidden the news of sponsoring Chloe. I thought this was very fair. The only difference was that he couldn’t hide it, but I could. Arthur only knew that an unknown person was protecting Julian. Not only could the people around him no longer touch Julian, but they also avoided him like the plague. He inquired anxiously about the news while carefully avoiding me, becoming so irritable that pimples even popped up on his forehead. I froze the first second I saw him. Then I gently looked away, thinking with a bit of disgust: How did he get so ugly? Not as good-looking as Little Tree. “Evelyn,” his tone was indifferent, “I’ve been busy socializing lately and haven’t had time to see you. Dinner tonight?” Little Tree said he would cook for me tonight. I didn’t want to eat with Arthur. Just as I was about to refuse, Arthur naturally changed the subject: “The Tailor’s didn’t contact me this month. I have an important gathering, and I don’t have the right clothes.” The Tailor’s used to custom-make three suits for Arthur every month, under my orders. But the clothes for this month had long been worn by Little Tree; there was none for him. Mr. Henderson, who personally delivered them for me, didn’t even bat an eyelid. I looked at him strangely. “Then you should go to The Tailor’s.” Why come to me? I wasn’t a tailor. But without me, The Tailor’s wouldn’t even pay attention to Arthur. He wasn’t qualified. Arthur was silent for a few seconds, a hint of impatience appearing between his brows: “Stop making a fuss.” I looked at him with interest. “The Tailor’s has been busy lately. You can go wait in line.” He finally seemed to realize that my reaction wasn’t quite right. Arthur looked at me, hesitated for a few seconds, and his voice softened a bit: “Evelyn, are you upset because I haven’t come to see you recently?” I scrutinized him, increasingly feeling that men who are getting older really need to pay attention to maintenance. Arthur’s phone vibrated. He was probably distracted, even forgetting to avoid me, and looked directly down at the message on his phone. It was probably a message from Chloe. I didn’t want to peek, but I accidentally caught a glimpse; it was a photo. — “My friend is shooting promotional photos for Columbia today, and I came to help carry water and stuff >w<" The boy in the photo looked very familiar; it was Julian. Julian had also told me about the promotional photos. Seeing him wearing the clothes I gave him made me feel even better. Arthur only took one look and didn't even notice the message Chloe sent before freezing in place. He zoomed in on the photo, the irritation in his eyes going completely blank. Then, his fingers trembled, his knuckles turning white as he stared dead at the pattern on Julian's cuff—it was the signature mark of The Tailor's. Having worn it for so many years, he couldn't possibly mistake it. (08) It felt like minutes had passed, or maybe just a few seconds. When I started getting impatient, Arthur finally turned to look at me. He wasn't completely stupid, after all. My recent coldness, the backer that suddenly appeared behind Julian, the tight-lipped attitude of everyone around him, and even those subtle, strange looks—Arthur hadn't failed to notice them. But when he actually saw something that belonged to him appear on Julian, the blood rushed to his head, and he almost lost his reason. "Evelyn Sterling." Arthur's eyes were bloodshot, and he practically gritted his teeth. "What is your relationship with him?" Mr. Henderson moved, and I knew what he was planning, so I stopped him: "Mr. Henderson, no need." Then I directly splashed the hot tea in my hand onto Arthur's face. He couldn't dodge in time and looked extremely disheveled. Mr. Henderson handed me a tissue. I wiped my hands, my tone curious: "Who gave you permission to speak to me like that?" Arthur clearly hadn't expected me to react this way and stood frozen in place. "Listen, Arthur." I toyed with a leaf of the small potted plant in my lap. "I haven't even settled the score with you regarding that girl; you have no right to question me." His lips trembled, as if waking up from his own world, the furious expression turning pale. "You know?" He seemed anxious to explain. "Evelyn, about me and Chloe... Chloe Davis, it's not what you think. I didn't tell you just because I was afraid you'd be upset." I said "Oh": "Are you done?" "Chloe is just a little girl. I hope you can be a little more understanding." He took a deep breath, as if calming down, his face dark, and the forced gentleness seemed a bit awkward. "You are my fiancée; you don't need to compare yourself with others." But I didn't speak immediately. Originally, my mood was good, and I might have even been able to peacefully say a few words to him. Thinking about it now, my good mood had nothing to do with him. He just came to ruin my mood. I asked impatiently, "Arthur, who do you think you are?" Arthur was stunned. He had never been humiliated by me like this, and he couldn't recover for a moment. I became even more curious. "Are you confused about your status? Asking me to be more understanding and to compare myself with others, your entire family doesn't deserve to say such things to me." So annoying. I was inherently someone with a bad temper, and such mean words came easily to me. It's just that I wouldn't say them to him before. It was as if I should cherish something that belonged to me. But now I kind of wanted to throw him away. "Let's go, Mr. Henderson." I stopped looking at Arthur. "To the greenhouse." Mr. Henderson pushed my wheelchair, ready to take me away. "I know, are you jealous? Are you deliberately taking revenge on me, which is why you went to that kid?" Arthur, covered in tea stains, chased after me. "Evelyn, let me tell you, he's up to no good. He's usually fake to Chloe, a country bumpkin from a poor village..." "Mr. Arthur," Mr. Henderson coldly interrupted him. "Watch your words. You have no right to comment on Miss Sterling's affairs." Arthur unconsciously stopped his steps. He was afraid of Mr. Henderson and didn't speak again, only staring at me intently, as if hoping I would call him back. Mr. Henderson had been with the Sterling family for too long; his status was different from an ordinary subordinate. The elders of the Arthur family would nod and bow when they saw Mr. Henderson, and Arthur was always very humble and polite to him. Even though Mr. Henderson was my butler, he dared to offend me but didn't dare to offend Mr. Henderson. After stepping out of the elevator, I said, "Teach the Arthur family a lesson." "Yes." The Arthur family wasn't stupid; they would definitely know it was Arthur who made a mistake. They would give me a satisfactory answer. This was better than letting Mr. Henderson just beat him up, lest he leave my gallery bruised and battered, leading others to think our Sterling family was unreasonable. Mr. Henderson looked at me with some relief. "Miss has grown up." Even my dad, who was far away abroad, called to praise me when he heard about it. "That kid dared to speak rudely to you; he deserves a lesson." He first scolded Arthur, then asked me, "But why are you suddenly willing to be so ruthless this time?" After all, having Mr. Henderson beat him up was a minor issue; it would pass once the injuries healed. But causing trouble for the Arthur family meant losing all face. I snorted lightly. "He called Little Tree a country bumpkin, even though I've raised him so well." My dad was totally confused. "What?" Mr. Henderson didn't report everything to him. Besides, sponsoring a poor student wasn't a big deal; he still didn't know what I had been doing lately. However, my dad and I often had heart-to-heart talks. "I'll tell you when you get back." I didn't explain much. "I just think he's blind." (09) I bought an apartment outside Julian's school. I recorded his fingerprint, but he usually only came when I called him. Occasionally, if there were no seats in the library and he needed a place to study, he would ask for my permission in advance. I found it strange: "Recording your fingerprint means you can come whenever you want. Why do you have to get my permission every time?" Julian said it was my house, and if I was in it, it would be very impolite of him to come over without saying a word. I didn't like people who lectured. But he was the Little Tree I kept; his voice was nice, and his tone was gentle. I just let him be. I regularly hired people to clean this apartment, and since no one stayed overnight, it was usually spotless. However, there were many traces of use in the kitchen. Because ever since the first time I said Julian's cooking was delicious, Julian often came to cook for me. The stove was ignited, and the sound of chopping vegetables could be heard. Before the meal, Julian handed me a fruit platter. The honeydew melon was freshly cut, exuding a sweet and fragrant scent; the grapes had been peeled by him, revealing the crystal-clear flesh, and even the white veins of the mandarin orange segments had been torn off cleanly. The good mood that had been disturbed by Arthur returned, and I forked a piece of melon: "Come here." "What's wrong?" He wiped the water drops off his hands. "Are you hungry? I'll try to be faster." I handed the honeydew melon to his mouth. Julian instinctively took a bite, then froze. A hint of a smile rippled outward from the depths of his eyes. He said, "Thank you, Miss." He didn't feel there was anything wrong with this. I certainly wouldn't think there was anything wrong. I accepted his thanks as a matter of course and forked a grape for him. When he went to the kitchen, I began to concentrate on enjoying my pre-dinner fruit. Sweet. Tonight's dinner was very sumptuous. Although it didn't use exceptionally expensive ingredients like the family chef did, I wasn't picky. "Miss, can you give me one of your bank accounts?" Julian suddenly asked at the dinner table. Before I could ask him why, he confessed on his own accord: "I got paid for shooting the promotional photos, and I want to transfer it to you." I looked at him. "Do you think I'm poorer than you?" "That's not what I mean." Julian served me chicken soup, carefully skimming the fat floating on the surface, his voice gentle. "I eat your food, live in your house, use your things now, and I have nowhere to spend money, so I should give all the money I earn to you, and you can help me spend it." He was very good with words. The irritability that had just surfaced in my heart was instantly smoothed over. I thought for a moment: "Then just leave it with me." I would find my dad's most trusted investment manager to help him manage this money and give it back to him when it multiplied several times. Julian smiled at me, like a clear breeze and bright moon: "Thank you, Miss." I didn't lack money and was always generous. Getting along with Julian always put me in a good mood. In the past, if Arthur put me in a good mood, I would unstintingly give him some resources he needed—all of which he subtly asked for. But Julian never asked me for anything; he only accepted what I gave him. I thought to myself, he doesn't even know how to proactively ask for money. I still have to help him figure out how he can be this poor. I said, "Will you have scholarship money this year?" "Yes," Julian said. "When it's credited, I'll put it all with you, Miss. Is that okay?" His dark eyes were as clean as a clear spring. I swallowed the beef in my mouth and said slowly, "Okay." Adding his scholarship money, I would add some more to make his principal a lucky number, and then hand it over to the financial manager. After dinner, I gave Julian a card. I had given him a debit card with $100,000 before, but he never used it, and he probably didn't know how much money was in it. This time I gave him a black card from the Sterling Group. "Many properties under my family's name can use this card. For example, the shopping center opposite your school, everything inside is free when you swipe this card," I said. "If there's anyone who doesn't recognize it, call me." He was stunned for a few seconds. "Miss." I don't know since when, he stopped calling me Miss Sterling and started calling me Miss. Julian sighed: "You treat me so well, it's easy to make people..." He seemed to be deliberating on what word to use. After a long time, he came up with "spoiled." I thought to myself, there are too many people around me who throw their weight around. How could a person with such a gentle personality as Julian become arrogant? He half-crouched down to help me put on the slippers I had kicked under the table: "I might even push my luck." I looked at him strangely. "You were supposed to be spoiled and push your luck." I wanted the little tree I planted to receive the brightest sunlight and the most nourishing rain in the world. — "Because you are my person." (10) When I received the apology call from the Arthur family, I was slowly walking around the Columbia campus. Although I couldn't stand for long periods, to prevent my leg muscles from atrophying, I would walk for a while every day. This time, it was a spur-of-the-moment decision to stroll around Columbia. Julian finished his last exam today, and I planned to pick him up, though I hadn't told him yet. This was called creating a surprise. It's not that I hadn't done things on a whim before, but it always seemed like Arthur wasn't very surprised. Julian was different from Arthur. I couldn't help but guess what kind of expression he would show when he saw me. The more I thought about it, the more the corners of my mouth couldn't help but turn up. Columbia, as one of the top universities in New York and even the whole country, had an extremely beautiful campus with clean and spacious roads. The passing students were also very polite. Even if occasionally someone curiously looked at Mr. Henderson pushing the wheelchair and me standing next to it, they only glanced and quickly looked away. The head of the Arthur family was apologizing to me with trepidation. Speaking of Arthur, he scolded him thoroughly, saying the family had recently punished him, listing them one by one, and finally asked if I was satisfied with this handling. I didn't listen carefully because I was looking at the soil where Little Tree grew. Since he asked, I dropped a sentence, "Average," and hung up the phone. "Miss, do you want to sit and rest for a while?" Mr. Henderson asked. "It's fine here, Mr. Henderson." I shook my head. "Julian should study for a few more years, don't you think?" Mr. Henderson didn't call Julian Little Tree like I did. He called him Mr. Vance now, explaining that since Julian was my person, his status was now equivalent to half a young master of the Sterling family. "Mr. Vance is limited by his major, so further study is the best choice," Mr. Henderson said. "The path Miss chooses for him is naturally the best." "If he wants to start a business, the family seems to have people who can guide him. If he graduates, our overseas industries have expanded well..." I thought about it, always feeling that every option suited him very well. "I'll ask him when the time comes and let him choose himself." Mr. Henderson seemed a bit surprised, but this emotion was fleeting. "Let's go pick him up from his exam." I sat in the wheelchair. This was my first time picking someone up from an exam, and it was the top student in the department. A very novel feeling. Before arriving outside the exam room, I suddenly saw a familiar figure with a backpack walking out of the teaching building, looking in a hurry. "Miss, it's Mr. Vance," Mr. Henderson said. "Should I call out to him?" "He handed in his paper early." I thought about it, a bit of mischief arising. "No, let's follow him." I planned to get close and startle him later. Mr. Henderson didn't say a word and pushed me to follow. Julian's goal was very clear, but the place he was walking to made me increasingly confused. Mr. Henderson: "That's the experimental field of Columbia's College of Agriculture." Agriculture, this was completely unrelated to Julian's materials major. I was puzzled when I heard someone call his name. "Julian." A dusty guy emerged from the field. "You come here more often than I do. My advisor asked me a few days ago if you wanted to join his lab." His voice was loud, but I couldn't hear what Julian said. I only saw that boy laugh loudly: "If it weren't for your sweet talk, I wouldn't have bothered teaching you... Alright, the cherry tomatoes you planted have no problems. By the way, does your family run an agricultural supply store? You're always planting these random things." Julian seemed to think of something and revealed a faint smile. The sunlight was warm, gently enveloping his handsome profile. I stood frozen in place. Actually, I knew Julian was very busy. I said I wanted him to give me plants just casually. Maybe the first pot of succulents was cultivated by him, but the second pot, the third pot... I would never investigate where he brought them from, or whether he bought them. But I didn't care. I treated people well just based on my mood because what I gave was something not worth mentioning to me, so whether I got a return or not didn't matter. Then, seeking advice from the College of Agriculture, going down to the muddy ground every day to watch the seeds sprout with his own eyes, and sending me a whole ocean of green, downplaying it from beginning to end without saying a word. To Julian, was this giving also something not worth mentioning? My heart felt like it was suddenly pricked. It didn't hurt; it was just a sore and itchy feeling, oozing out wet emotions bit by bit. I lowered my eyes: "Let's go, Mr. Henderson, don't let him see us."

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “410894”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My online boyfriend and I agreed to swap photos today. I thought he was catfishing when he sent a professional, high-fashion shot of the city’s most famous, untouchable billionaire heir taken during a press conference. I laughed, annoyed. I shot back a photo of a famous A-list actress in a high-fashion editorial. [Dumbass. If you’re going to use a fake photo, at least pick a niche one, okay?] Then I immediately blocked and deleted him. That night, the real billionaire heir personally made a high-profile post on social media looking for someone. [My girlfriend blocked me. Can anyone help me explain to her?] Attached to his post was a screenshot of my text message, complete with the dreaded red exclamation mark indicating it was undelivered. My eyes nearly popped out of my head. 01 After breakfast, I spent an hour putting on a full face of makeup. I sat by the window, waiting for the exact moment the lighting was perfect. Because today was the day my online boyfriend and I agreed to swap photos. [Ready, baby?] His message popped up. I quickly replied: [I’m a little nervous, baby.] Even though our values aligned perfectly and we talked about everything, I had never told him that I was actually a somewhat famous actress. I was more of a “love-to-hate” celebrity, but I had my fair share of fame. Worried he wouldn’t believe a photo, I planned to video call him right after. I wondered how he would react. He replied quickly. [I’m nervous too. I’m scared you’ll think I’m ugly.] [Baby, I really tried to pick the best picture of myself I could find.] [Are you going to be disappointed in me, baby?] More than once, he had expressed insecurity about his looks. But having seen too many fake, perfect faces in Hollywood, I honestly didn’t care about his outward appearance. [Of course not. As long as you aren’t using a fake photo to trick me, I’ll love you no matter what you look like.] [That’s good. Kisses, QAQ.] [Kisses.] He was very clingy, and I didn’t mind pampering him. He went quiet for a few minutes, seemingly building up the courage. Then, he sent an image. It was a man in a impeccably tailored suit, surrounded by a swarm of microphones, his eyes sharp, radiating an intense, powerful aura. I recognized him instantly. He was Ethan Thorne, the notorious, multi-billionaire heir to a massive New York real estate empire. Because of his insane good looks, every interview shot of him became a viral sensation. This was actually his most famous “it” photo. My online boyfriend texted: [Baby, this is me. What do you think?] [Nervously twiddling fingers.jpg] I froze. I had always thought my online boyfriend was intelligent, sophisticated, and perfect for me. We clicked on everything. But what was this? Sending an interview photo of another man? A hundred-billionaire heir playing around with online dating? Was I not awake, or was he dreaming? And I specifically told him not to use a fake photo! Did I look that gullible? I hate deception more than anything. Fury instantly erupted within me. I immediately found an obscure editorial shot of myself—one not widely circulated—and sent it to him. [Dumbass. If you’re going to use a fake photo, at least pick a niche one, okay?] Without waiting for a reply, I blocked his number at lightning speed. 02 I met my online boyfriend while playing video games. I went into the game and deleted him from my friends list, wiping out our “High Affinity” status of over ten thousand points, ensuring he had no way to contact me ever again. Then I threw my phone onto the sofa, spent an hour washing off my makeup, and curled up alone, fuming. All those photos of abs and obliques he used to send me… they must have been pulled from some random fitness Instagram. And to think I actually admired and complimented his physique! That dead liar! I was so angry I couldn’t function, so I just buried my head in the pillows and went to sleep. That evening, I was woken by a call from my manager, Sarah. Her voice sounded strange. “Chloe, have you seen the trending topics today?” “What happened?” I mumbled, forcing my eyes open and opening the X app (formerly Twitter). I realized a topic had exploded just minutes ago. #Even Billionaire Heirs Do Online Dating# My heart did a somersault. I was instantly wide awake. This topic… it couldn’t be what I thought it was, right? Cautiously, I clicked in. Ethan Thorne, who rarely ever posted on social media, had posted a few minutes ago. [My girlfriend blocked me. Can anyone help me explain to her?] The attached photo looked increasingly familiar. Wasn’t this the final chat log between me and my online boyfriend? The only difference was that on his end, there were several more messages that failed to send, marked with red exclamation points. [Huh?] [It’s not a fake photo, baby. It’s really me.] [Baby?] [Why did you delete me? Can you at least listen to my explanation?] [Baby… #crying#] The internet was in absolute shock. [What? Ethan Thorne does online dating?] [I’m dying to know who the girlfriend is. Did she save the universe in a past life to be dating Ethan Thorne online?] [But she thought he was a catfish. LMAO.] [Honestly, if it were me, I’d think it was a fake photo too. Hahaha.] [But it looks like he’s publicly searching for her, right? Does anyone know this girl?] [If anyone knows her, please tell her to answer him! Mr. Thorne is so anxious he’s actually posting on social media!] I scrolled through the comments, my eyes nearly popping out of my head. So, my online boyfriend actually didn’t use a fake photo? He really was Ethan Thorne! While I was still reeling from the shock, a new trending topic suddenly appeared. #Celebrity and Billionaire’s Online Romance: I’m Obsessed# I gasped. No way the internet detectives were this fast, right? Had I been exposed already? Nervously, I clicked. It was a new post from the currently hot, “it girl” actress, Brooke Sterling. [No need for anyone to help explain. I know it was just a misunderstanding~] Her post was so heavily pointed it was just short of quoting Ethan’s original post. Netizens went wild. [The internet is amazing! Found her in minutes!] [So the online girlfriend is Brooke! OMG! A movie star and a billionaire heir? What an insane online romance!] [Brooke is too cute. She’s a celebrity herself doing online dating, yet she didn’t believe a billionaire was doing the same. Hahaha.] [Help, they are so perfect together. Brooke is about to become a billionaire’s wife!] 03 Sarah’s voice came through the phone again. “Do you see it now? We originally planned to have you on that food and lifestyle reality show to gain some popular favor, but now that Brooke and Ethan Thorne’s online romance has exploded, all the buzz for the show tomorrow will be about her. You’re going to be totally eclipsed!” I was stunned. Because I was a decent cook, we had specifically chosen a slow-paced lifestyle show called “The Great American Farmhouse” to try and fix my shaky reputation with the public. And the show was broadcasting live starting tomorrow. With all the buzz going to Brooke, I would be nothing more than a background extra again. I gritted my teeth. “What if… the person actually dating Ethan Thorne is me?” When I was dating Ethan online, I used a private account, completely separate from my professional, public-facing celebrity account. As a result, not even Sarah knew that the girl in question was me. I explained the whole story to Sarah, leaving her completely stunned. “Brooke Sterling actually dared to clout-chase this? Is she insane?” It was common knowledge that Ethan Thorne was not only vindictive but also ruthless. No one dared mess with him, and even fewer dared to lie to him. Even knowing I was his actual online girlfriend, I didn’t dare step forward and admit it. Because I hadn’t just blocked him; I had called him a dumbass. Sarah and I stayed up all night talking, but we couldn’t come up with a foolproof plan. With only a rough layer of makeup and very little sleep, I was thrown into the reality show production. When I arrived, several other guests were already gathered around Brooke Sterling, chatting excitedly. “Brooke! What’s it like dating a billionaire heir online?” “You are way too good at online dating!” “What is Ethan like in private?” “Now that you’ve cleared up the misunderstanding, have you unblocked him and added him back?” A barrage of questions left Brooke looking shy. She covered her mouth, giggling. “He hasn’t actually reached out to me personally yet. As for the block list… I’m not planning on taking him off just yet.” This was a response nobody expected. “What? You haven’t unblocked him yet!” “Someone who dares to treat Ethan Thorne like that—I guess there’s only one Brooke Sterling in the world, huh?” “I can’t imagine how much you must be pampered in real life!” Brooke gave another shy smile. “Oh, stop it. You guys shouldn’t talk like that.” Everyone was filled with envy. Only I slowly frowned. She didn’t unblock Ethan Thorne… wasn’t that because he was on my block list? However, my subtle expression was quickly caught by the live-stream audience. [What is Chloe doing? What’s with that face?] [I heard she’s insanely jealous that Brooke is dating a billionaire heir. She can’t even hide it on her face!] [LMAO, who told her not to have Brooke’s luck?] [Why did the production team invite her? To watch her pout?] Brooke noticed me too. She walked over with a bright smile. “Chloe, you’re finally here! The host said they’re going to announce a huge surprise once everyone is here. We were just waiting for you.” I silently glanced at the time. Recording was supposed to start at 8:30 AM; it was barely past 8:00 AM now. Because of the Ethan Thorne situation, I hadn’t gone to sleep until 5:00 AM, so I certainly hadn’t arrived early. But I wasn’t late either! But netizens had already quickly grasped Brooke’s implication. [So Chloe still hasn’t fixed her diva habit of being late?] [A whole room is waiting for just her. The nerve!] [Only our Brooke is kind enough to give her a smile after waiting white-knuckled for so long!] [I’m so sick of Chloe. Showing up so late. Can we just have her kicked off this show?] 04 I really wanted to roll my eyes at her. But I held back. I looked at the host. “What huge surprise?” The host gave a mysterious smile. The large screen behind him suddenly lit up. It was a screenshot of a recent social media post. Ethan Thorne had posted four words just three minutes ago: [Going where you are.] Attached was the logo for our reality show, “The Great American Farmhouse.” The host introduced: “Ta-da! Our show is honored to welcome—the CEO of the Thorne Group himself, Mr. Ethan Thorne, as a guest!” Netizens immediately went wild for the “couple.” [‘Going where you are’? Isn’t this literally chasing his wife to the production set?] [Does everyone remember what Brooke just said? Ethan hadn’t contacted her yet, so she wouldn’t unblock him. And then Ethan actually came to the show for Brooke. This is too much pampering!] [He’s a man who has a fixed schedule for interviews, and he just shows up on a viral reality show? If this isn’t true love, I don’t know what is!] [I can’t even imagine how sweet it will be when the billionaire heir actually arrives on set!] [Can I please have Brooke’s life script in my next life?] Brooke’s expression was also wonderful. First, her eyes slowly widened, then she covered her mouth in disbelief. Finally, she lowered her head bashfully. Someone immediately teased, “Brooke, the billionaire heir chased you all the way to the show. You should probably unblock him now, right?” She covered her face self-consciously. “Oh, stop it… I’ll see how he behaves when he gets here~” This caused another round of excitement from the crowd. I was extremely confused. Did Ethan Thorne really just believe that Brooke Sterling was his online girlfriend? He was even coming onto a reality show for this? I couldn’t help but remember when I was dating Ethan online. Whenever he made me angry, he would send me money transfers. If I ignored him, he would send me photos of his abs. If I kept ignoring him, he would pull his waistband lower and lower. He certainly knew how to coax a girl. But I was the one he was coaxing. How had he become this person in Brooke’s mouth, someone who could be effortlessly manipulated by her time and time again? I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I looked up at Brooke. “If Ethan Thorne ‘behaves well,’ are you sure you can unblock him?” Brooke was stunned for a moment. But she quickly nodded. “Of course.” Another guest was confused and asked me, “Chloe, why would you ask that?” I didn’t answer immediately. If I said right now that I was Ethan Thorne’s actual online girlfriend, wouldn’t I get absolutely shredded by the public? The netizens were already roasting me. [Is this Chloe crazy? Why did she randomly pipe up with that?] [Her jealousy is practically oozing through the screen. Seeing how much Mr. Thorne pampers Brooke, she’s probably never experienced that in her life, right?] [Seriously, what is there to question? Ethan Thorne came onto the show for Brooke!] [She is so rude. But everyone shouldn’t be angry. When Mr. Thorne gets here, he will definitely handle her for Brooke! Kick her out!] Brooke, catching my hesitant expression, straightened her back. She frowned and looked at me. “Yeah, what’s the meaning of that question? If I can’t, can you?” Her tone was filled with interrogation. There was even a hint of provocation in her eyes. “Chloe, are you just…” Before she finished, the sarcasm was loud and clear. Am I envious? Am I jealous? Am I intentionally trying to pick a fight? Everyone around was staring at me. I was getting heated from the scrutiny. Finally, unable to take it anymore, I opened my mouth. “Yeah, I can. “He’s on my block list right now. Do you want to see?” 05 For a moment, everyone on set was stunned. Nobody expected me to say that. The scene fell into a dead silence. Everyone looked at each other, speechless. A guest closest to me was the first to react, looking at me in shock. “Chloe, what are you saying? Who is on your block list? Ethan Thorne?” I realized only then that I had been too impulsive and had actually spoken the truth. But what was done was done. I just nodded silently. The guest was a bit confused. “So you’re saying… you also blocked Ethan Thorne?” I replied casually, “Yeah.” Netizens: [This girl wants to clout-chase everything, doesn’t she? Brooke blocks the billionaire heir, so she has to say she blocked him too, even though he doesn’t even know who she is…] [And who cares if you blocked him? Is blocking someone a flex? What is with her attitude? Maybe she tried incredibly hard to add Mr. Thorne on a messenger app, he ignored her, she had a meltdown, and blocked him herself to feel some kind of moral victory?] [Exactly. Is Brooke the same as her? Brooke and Ethan are a couple having a playful lover’s tiff, and she has to butt in. What a dumbass.] While this was happening, Brooke had already run over to stand in front of me, looking very surprised. “How could you have Mr. Thorne’s contact information?” I was utterly sick of this woman now. I decided not to hide it anymore. “Why wouldn’t I? Is there no possibility that the person dating him online was actually me?” I stared at Brooke and spoke with complete confidence. Netizens burst out laughing. [Are my ears broken? What did Chloe say? She said she’s the one who was online dating Ethan Thorne?] [She’s insane… she dares to fake something like this? Brooke and the billionaire heir have already publicly acknowledged each other online. Isn’t she afraid Mr. Thorne will have her blacklisted from the industry immediately?] [Ugh, I can’t take this crazy woman anymore! One minute questioning others, the next minute having a manic episode herself. When is Ethan Thorne getting here to put her in her place?] [But… she looks serious. Not like she’s faking. And do you guys remember? The final photo the online girlfriend sent him was actually a shot from Chloe’s editorial.] [Do you have any critical thinking skills? They already suspected the other person was using a fake photo. How could they send their actual picture? Whoever that person is, it’s definitely not Chloe!] [Yeah, I don’t get why you guys are even doubting this. Ethan Thorne posted on social media to chase his ‘wife.’ It was obviously a response to Brooke. Chloe, the clout-chaser, needs to get lost!] Brooke was furious. “What do you mean? Are you trying to say you’re the one dating Mr. Thorne and not me? That I’m an imposter?” Even though she was angry, there wasn’t a trace of guilt or nervousness on her face. I found it strange. Why wasn’t she afraid of being exposed right here? Seeing her eagerness to refute me, I interrupted her directly. “Then why was your first reaction that I was an imposter? What if we were both dating him at the same time?” 06 Brooke hadn’t expected me to say that. She was speechless for a few seconds, her face flushing as she retorted loudly, “Mr. Thorne would never do such a thing!” Her reaction was already a bit extreme. I just gave a shallow “Oh.” I was silently debating whether to expose Brooke right now. After all, a live broadcast would be hard to manage. But before I could decide, Brooke actually made the first move. “Chloe, I’ve always considered you a good friend, but you questioned me first, slandered Mr. Thorne second, and now you actually dare to claim you’re his girlfriend. Have you forgotten? This is a live broadcast! Even if I don’t mind, I have to defend Mr. Thorne’s reputation! If you can’t produce evidence right now, then please apologize to Mr. Thorne and me immediately!” She spoke with sincere emotion, tears streaming down her face. She stood there, biting her lip stubbornly, like a pure little flower that had been wronged but refused to break. The guests who had remained silent earlier now looked at me accusingly. “Seriously, that’s not right, Chloe.” The netizens were enraged. [Seriously, is this Chloe a psycho? How could she say something like ‘Thorne was dating two women at once’?] [I’ve had enough! I feel so bad for Brooke. Not only does she have to face this crazy woman’s questioning, but now her man is being slandered too!] [Brooke looks like she’s about to cry in the next second! Someone please go hug her! And someone punch Chloe, that dumbass!] [Heh, she better be able to produce some decent evidence. If she can’t, she can wait to get kicked out of the industry! Ethan Thorne will destroy her when he gets here!] I remained silent for a moment. To prevent any accidents like accidentally switching accounts while posting, I always used a completely separate, private phone for my private entertainment. I really hadn’t brought that phone with me to record this variety show. When I stated this difficulty, Brooke’s triumph became visibly apparent. She appeared to be distressed for me, but was increasingly certain I was just slandering her. “Didn’t bring your phone? The internet is so advanced now. Can’t you just log in to your account on another phone? Or… do you not have an account at all?” I was completely fed up. She was begging me to expose her. “Fine. I’ll log in,” I interrupted her. I was done wasting words. I directly grabbed a production staff member’s work phone and logged in to my secondary messenger account right then and there. Someone whispered, “The profile picture seems to be the same one as Ethan Thorne’s online girlfriend…” Brooke’s expression changed. She clenched her fists and leaned in to look. I shoved the block list directly in her face. “See?” There was only one person on the block list. The account name was simply “E.” The profile picture was the identical one Ethan Thorne had previously shared on social media. Brooke obviously hadn’t expected me to actually produce evidence. She froze on the spot for a moment, unable to move. 07 The netizens were stunned. [What’s going on? Chloe actually seems to have a real case here…] [OMG! Both profile pictures match. And since she was asked on the spot, it’s unlikely to be fake, right?] [I feel like it might be real. Because that editorial photo really was Chloe’s, and it really was obscure. Why would anyone else save that unless it was her?] [Does that mean Brooke is the liar? But in that situation, how could someone send their actual picture? I don’t believe it.] [It doesn’t matter if you believe it or not. The evidence has been produced. Is Brooke Sterling about to have her entire career collapse…] Brooke struggled for a long time but couldn’t squeeze out a single word. “This? This…” Everyone was gathered around looking. In amidst the shocked stares, a guest suddenly said, “But, you don’t have any chat history to prove you were in a relationship…” I froze. Because I was logged in on a new phone, the chat history was indeed blank. Brooke seemed to be instantly revived. She snaps her head up. “Exactly! And how can you prove this person is Mr. Thorne? Anyone can use the exact same profile picture!” Having said that, she suddenly looked wronged again. “But for you to be able to produce this so quickly… could it be… could it be…” Before she finished her sentence, her big, watery eyes, full of unspeakable emotion, darted a few times towards the nearby directing team. Her eyes were filled with the hurt of betrayal. The implication was practically screaming. The netizens seemed to have a lightbulb moment. [Holy sht! Yeah, why didn’t I think of that? Chloe’s whole reveal looked so smooth and scripted. Could this be a storyline she worked out with the directing team?]* [Yeah. She unusually questioned Brooke over and over, Brooke was bound to get angry and ask for evidence, and then the production team just ‘happened’ to have a spare work phone, and she logged in so smoothly, and there was a ‘perfect’ account ready… it looks more like something prepared in advance.] [Fcking hell, I’m convinced! If Brooke wasn’t smart, she almost got played!]* [And Chloe just said something about ‘dating the same person at the same time’… I bet the next step was to act out a tragic script where she was cheated on to get sympathy, right?] [So this directing team is trying to pull this stunt to stir up buzz for Chloe? How low can you get?] The other guests immediately looked at me with strange, wary eyes. I even heard them whispering. “It couldn’t be like that, right? I thought this was a completely unscripted live broadcast…” “Who knows what kind of ‘benefits’ she gave them…” At that moment, I was turned to stone. I knew Brooke Sterling was bold enough to lie, but I didn’t expect her to be this good at counter-attacking! I don’t have evidence: I’m lying. I have evidence: It’s a script. Where is the justice! Seeing that the finger was being pointed at the production team, the host quickly stepped forward to smooth things over. “Everything that happens in our show is real! As for matters regarding Mr. Thorne… he himself will be arriving at the production set very soon!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “410910”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

In the fifth year of my marriage to Liam Sterling, the girl he had been keeping in a luxury penthouse was exposed. The scandal was everywhere—TMZ, Page Six, every social media feed. To protect her from being labeled a “homewrecker,” Liam came to me with divorce papers. He said, “Mr. Miller saved my career years ago. On his deathbed, he asked me to look after Clara. Now that this scandal is out, I can’t just leave her to drown.” For years, Clara had always been Liam’s first choice. In my past life, I collapsed when I heard those words. I screamed, I fought, and I refused to let go. I spiraled into a deep clinical depression. Liam, influenced by Clara’s whispered comment that “Elena doesn’t look like she’s actually sick,” decided I was faking it to trap him. He framed me for an affair and sued for divorce. Back then, I finally realized I could never compete with a “debt of gratitude.” I ended my life in despair. But now, I’ve opened my eyes again. This time, I signed the papers without a second thought. 01 “Elena, once this storm blows over, we’ll get married again, okay?” I was sitting on a stone bench in our Hamptons estate, staring into space, when Liam appeared with Clara. Just three hours ago, the paparazzi had leaked photos of Clara leaving Liam’s hotel suite. The internet was digging into her past, calling her a mistress and the reason for the downfall of the “perfect Sterling marriage.” Liam’s “devoted husband” image was shattered, and Sterling Group’s stock was plummeting. In my previous life, when Liam brought these papers, I was so filled with rage that I tore up every rose he had planted for me in this garden. I demanded to know what Clara really meant to him. She was just his mentor’s daughter. There were a thousand ways to solve the PR crisis. But he chose to sacrifice me. He did it simply because he didn’t want Clara’s depression to worsen. He didn’t know that while the scandal was fermenting, I had already been diagnosed with severe clinical depression myself. “Elena.” Liam called my name again, pulling me back from my thoughts. I looked down at the divorce settlement on the stone table. He knelt at my feet, his dark, deep eyes looking up at me, his warm palms covering my cold hands. His voice was coaxing. “Elena, just do this for me, please? We’ll tell the public our marriage has been over for a year. We’ll say we were just waiting for the right time to announce the divorce.” I remained silent. Behind him, Clara stood in a white silk dress, Liam’s coat draped over her shoulders. Her face was pale, her eyes red-rimmed. “Elena, please help me,” Clara whispered. “My mother took her own life because of cyberbullying and depression. I don’t want to end up like her. Elena… I’ll get on my knees if I have to. Just please…” As she started to bend her knees, Liam stood up instantly, catching her and pulling her protectively into his arms. His face darkened as he snapped, “What are you doing?” Clara choked back a sob, looking fragile. “I… I just wanted Elena to feel better.” Liam’s expression shifted to impatience as he looked back at me. The tenderness was gone. “Elena, I’m not here to negotiate. I’ve already made my decision. If you won’t sign, don’t blame me for—” I looked him in the eye, and he stopped mid-sentence. But I knew what he was going to say. He was going to say: “Elena, you know what I’m capable of. I have a thousand ways to make you sign. If we go to court, you’ll never beat the Sterling Group’s lawyers.” That’s what he said in the last life. Later, he staged a scene where I woke up in a hotel with male models, making the “affair” undeniable. Overnight, I became the “unfaithful wife,” while he and Clara became the innocent victims. “I’ll sign,” I said after a long silence. “But you have to promise me one thing.” 02 Liam nodded immediately. He handed me a pen. I took it and signed my name on the lines without a single tremor in my hand. “Don’t you want to read the terms?” Liam frowned. I let out a soft, hollow laugh. “No need.” He was basically leaving with nothing, giving me almost all the marital assets. He was willing to lose everything just for Clara, just for that “debt of gratitude.” “Set a time with the lawyers tomorrow to finalize the filing,” I said. “Okay,” Liam replied. His hand hesitated as he took the papers back. He looked at me with a hint of confusion, but in the end, he said nothing. As they turned to leave, Clara looked back over her shoulder. Her lips curved into a silent, mocking smirk: You lost. I had lost. I lost an entire lifetime. That’s why I didn’t care about winning this time. A few minutes later, my phone lit up. It was a text from Liam. [I know this is hard for you, Elena. I’m sorry.] [Once this is over, I’ll give you the wedding of your dreams. We’ll start over.] [I couldn’t just watch Clara spiral. You’re strong, you can understand me, right?] I looked at the screen and laughed until tears pricked my eyes. It was the same in the last life. To force the divorce, Liam had consulted his friends and gotten drunk. But he forgot that his friends were my friends too. Marcus had spent half his time telling Liam not to throw away his marriage for Clara, and the other half trying to convince me to “understand” Liam because he was a man of “honor and loyalty.” If Clara’s father hadn’t invested in Liam’s startup years ago, Liam wouldn’t be the man he is today. Back then, I had cried and screamed, “Liam could have cleared her name a thousand ways! Why does it have to be a divorce?” Marcus had gone quiet. He eventually told me what Liam had said: “I have to let someone down. It has to be Elena. She loves me; she’s the only one who will understand.” Because I loved him, I was the one to be sacrificed. What kind of twisted logic was that? Fortunately, I had a second chance. 03 Liam always moved fast when it came to Clara. The papers were signed in the morning, and by evening, he had organized a press conference. He sent his assistant to “invite” me to attend. I hadn’t even opened my mouth before the assistant, assuming I would refuse, relayed Liam’s message. “Ms. Miller, you should be there. If not for Mr. Sterling’s sake, then for your own reputation.” I stared at him for a second and then scoffed. Liam was threatening me. He was trying to use the same tactics from the last life—throwing dirt on me and letting me drown in public scrutiny until I had no choice but to bow my head. I never understood if Liam saw me as a wife or an enemy. But if he wanted to clarify our relationship, I was more than happy to oblige. The press conference was held in the ballroom of Manhattan’s most luxurious hotel. The room was packed with high-profile journalists. When Clara appeared, dressed in an elegant silk gown and leaning on Liam’s arm, the reporters swarmed them. Liam instinctively shielded Clara, waving off the microphones with a practiced smile. “I will answer every question in due time. For now, please, give us some space.” His voice was steady. When he looked up, his eyes met mine. I was surrounded by reporters in the middle of the room. For a split second, a ghost of an old hope flickered in me—the hope that he might step forward to help me. But in the next second— He shifted his gaze away. With a smile, he led Clara onto the stage as if he hadn’t seen me at all. I curled my lip in a silent sneer. A young intern reporter near me timidly held out a mic. “Ms. Miller, is it true? Are you and Mr. Sterling really getting a divorce?” “Yes,” I replied, a bright smile on my face. The intern pushed up her glasses. “But you and Mr. Sterling met in college. Seven years of dating, five years of marriage… and just last month, he bought an island in your name.” I kept smiling, though it didn’t reach my eyes. “That was a debt he owed me.” Liam had missed my birthday to take care of a “sick” Clara. The island was his way of making up for it. In my last life, I had been so proud of that island. I only found out later that the idea came from Marcus, the island was picked by Liam’s assistant, and Liam didn’t even know where it was on a map. “Do you… still love him?” the reporter asked. The room went quiet. Even Liam, on the stage, turned to look at me. His brow furrowed slightly. I looked at him calmly and spoke clearly into the microphone. “Not anymore.” 04 I didn’t stay for the end. Once Liam announced that our marriage had “ended in spirit” a year ago, I walked out. Overnight, I became the “discarded wife,” while Clara became the only innocent victim in this drama. The interview was pinned at the top of every social media platform for days. Liam’s statement was played on loop: “Elena and I decided to split a year ago. We wanted to keep it private, but now that an innocent person is being dragged into this, we had to speak up. Clara is not a ‘mistress.’ She is my mentor’s daughter, his only legacy. Looking after her is my duty. I hope everyone can be rational about this.” Fans were led to believe that I was the problem—that I was too “narrow-minded” to accept their “pure, sibling-like” bond. They called me petty. They said I didn’t deserve Liam’s “loyalty and honor” after five years of marriage. The topic trended for a week. I was the villain. When we walked out of the lawyer’s office after the final filing, Liam stopped me. “Don’t take what they say online to heart, Elena. People have short memories. They’ll forget soon.” I stopped and let out a short, sharp laugh. We were both being dragged on social media, yet the way he handled it for Clara versus me was night and day. “Elena, it’s almost Christmas,” Liam said. “Early next year, let’s go get our licenses again. We’ll remarry.” He moved toward me, but I stepped back. I looked past him toward the paparazzi being held back by security. Liam realized he was being too public and stopped. “Liam, I’m moving to Boston.” “You haven’t been back there in a long time. It’ll be good for you. After New Year’s, I’ll fly up and bring you—” “I’m not coming back,” I interrupted calmly. The faint smile on his face froze. Confusion clouded his eyes. I continued, “When I agreed to sign the papers, you promised me one thing. It’s time to keep it.” Liam stared at me, waiting. In the few seconds after my rebirth, I had processed all my love and hate for this man. When I first saw the divorce papers, part of me wanted to go insane, to rip them up and scream. But logic won. I smiled at him one last time. “Liam, I want you to stay out of my life. Forever.” 05 As I walked away into the crowd, Liam stood frozen. For a moment, he felt a strange, cold panic, as if he were losing the most valuable thing he owned. It reminded him of how I had signed the papers—quietly, without a fight. It was as if I had already foreseen the end. Just a few weeks ago, I had thrown a fit because he forgot my birthday. I had even slapped him. He had expected me to go nuclear when he suggested a “fake” divorce. He was ready for the screaming. But I hadn’t screamed. I had just picked up the pen, my expression as still as a dead lake. He had wanted to stop me for a split second, but he didn’t. He told himself it was fine. Elena loved him. It was just a temporary divorce. He would make it up to her. But Clara was different. He couldn’t let her get hurt because of him. If her father hadn’t seen Liam’s potential and risked his own board seat to invest in Liam’s first project, Liam wouldn’t be a New York titan today. He wouldn’t have been “good enough” for someone like Clara. Mr. Miller’s dying wish was for Liam to protect her. He didn’t want to be a man without honor. Marcus had once asked him, “If Elena and Clara both fell off a cliff, who would you save?” Liam had laughed then. He thought the question was beneath him. He said he’d save Clara, but he’d jump off the cliff to die with Elena. Marcus had laughed with him, but then asked, “What if Elena doesn’t want to die?” “Liam, don’t take Elena’s love for granted. If she can’t feel your love, she’ll give up.” Liam hadn’t taken the warning seriously then. He didn’t realize it was a prophecy. 06 That night, Liam went back to the villa. Since our wedding, I had lived in this house tucked away in the hills. I was a successful artist. At eighteen, I had been hailed as a prodigy for my ethereal landscapes. Everyone thought I would be the next big thing in the art world, and for a while, I was. But after marriage, my style changed. It lost its soul. My mentors tried to help me, but the effect was minimal. Eventually, I stopped painting altogether. I grew to hate the brush. Liam walked into my studio. He froze when he saw the canvas on the easel. It was a landscape. A few strokes, but it was breathtakingly alive. The housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, saw the light and walked in. “Mr. Sterling?” Liam turned. “When did she paint this?” “The day you brought Ms. Vance home,” she replied. Liam nodded. He tried to smile, but his face felt stiff. He went to my bedroom. He kept telling himself this was just a “fake” divorce. As soon as the PR fire was out, he would propose again. He’d give me a wedding that would be the talk of the century. But his chest felt hollow. He dismissed my final words as just “anger.” This was our home. Why wouldn’t I come back? A knock at the door broke his thoughts. It was Clara. She was wearing a thin silk robe, her cheeks flushed. She stood in the doorway, watching him. “What are you doing here?” Liam asked. Clara bit her lip. “I was scared staying at the hotel alone. So I came here.” She lowered her eyes. “Am I… disturbing you?” Liam’s brow furrowed, but he sighed. “It’s fine. It’s late.” “I’ll have Mrs. Gable get a guest room ready.” As he turned to call the housekeeper, Clara stepped into the room. She looked at Liam with eyes full of longing. “Liam… I don’t want the guest room.” “Can I…?” she whispered. Liam’s frown deepened. He opened his mouth to say no, but seeing her red-rimmed eyes, his heart softened again. 07 When my plane landed in Boston, Silas was there to pick me up. Ten years ago, when he was eighteen, Silas had saved a girl from an assault, only to be falsely accused of the crime himself. He served three years in prison. With a criminal record, no company would hire him. I met him at an art gallery. He never spoke to anyone; he always kept his head down. One night, on my way home, I was cornered by some thugs. Silas happened to be passing by. I thought he would just keep walking. But he didn’t. He didn’t hesitate for a second. Afterward, I asked him, “What if I accused you too?” He gave a bitter smile. “Then I’d just accept it.” I used my family’s influence to clear his name. On the day the truth came out, he stood in the distance, watching me through the crowd with red eyes. He bowed deeply in thanks. Prison hadn’t broken his kindness. My father, grateful for Silas saving me, offered him a job. He started at the bottom, and now, he was my father’s most trusted right hand. “Miss Vance, long time no see.” Silas, dressed in a sharp overcoat, took my suitcase. I nodded, feeling a sudden lump in my throat. Five years ago, when I married Liam and moved to New York, Silas had been sent to London for corporate training. I hadn’t seen him since before I “died” in my last life. “Are you staying this time?” he asked. “I’m staying,” I said. Silas smiled. “Mr. Vance is very happy you’re home.” I felt a pang of guilt. My hands tightened in my pockets. In the last life, when the divorce scandal broke, my father had flown to New York immediately. He had begged me: “Liam Sterling doesn’t know your worth.” “He’d rather work with that old man Miller than accept your help. He says he doesn’t want to ‘rely’ on you, but isn’t relying on the Millers the same thing?” “Elena, just leave him. He isn’t the one.” He wanted to bring me home to Boston. But I refused. I cried and screamed that I loved Liam and wouldn’t leave. “Why should I be sacrificed for his ‘debt’? Even if he kills me, I’m not leaving.” My father was so angry and heartbroken that he had a massive heart attack. He was in the ICU for weeks. My mother’s hair turned white overnight. When my father finally woke up, he didn’t say a word to me. I knew I had failed him. My mother had warned me before she left: “Your father never interfered with your choices, Elena. But Liam Sterling is not a good man.” I hadn’t listened. I had hit the “dead end” at full speed. It took losing my life to finally understand. “Are they okay?” I asked Silas. He nodded. “The company is thriving. Your parents are healthy.” I smiled, looking at his calm eyes. “Thank you, Silas.” Thank you for looking after them when I was gone. Silas shook his head. He said it was his duty. If my father and I hadn’t pulled him out of the gutter, he would have been dead years ago.

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I was the official “mascot” of our company. My boss went out of his way to keep me around, even creating a cushy, specialized position just for me. Then, a new Sales Director swooped in. A staunch pragmatist and skeptic. He couldn’t stand seeing me so relaxed and was incredibly jealous of my job. While our boss was off on a digital-detox meditation retreat in the mountains, this new director used every dirty trick in the book to force me out, all so he could slide his little “boy toy” into my position. My life went from flexible, easy hours to a grueling 9-to-10 nightmare. I was utterly miserable. I planned to grit my teeth and hold on until the boss got back to put him in his place. But the day before the boss’s return, he posted a company-wide memo calling me out for spending more than five minutes in the bathroom. He publicly humiliated me, accusing me of slacking off and neglecting my duties, tearing me to shreds. It was bullying, plain and simple. Furious, I quit on the spot. And then, I smoothly accepted a job offer from the nearly bankrupt company right across the hall… the very company my boss was planning to acquire. 01 When my mom was pregnant with me, my uncle—who was really into astrology and horoscopes—calculated my due date. He pinpointed a specific day and claimed that if I were born then, I would bring immense wealth and good fortune to my parents. Unfortunately, I’ve never been one to follow the plan. Two days before that “lucky” date, I decided it was time to make my entrance. Even though my mom, desperate for me to bring them fortune, tried to hold it in and refused to go to the hospital, I was born smoothly and effortlessly. And just like that, I completely blew my chance at being a trust-fund baby. My uncle recalculated my birth chart and consoled my deeply disappointed parents, saying I was destined for a life of hard work. The silver lining? When I grew up, I’d be able to make a lot of money through my own hustle, so they wouldn’t have to worry about me living in their basement forever. My parents stressed over this for years! They often looked at me with deep pity. They were working-class folks themselves, yet they were already mourning the future working-class life of their little girl. But I bet they never imagined that my “destined life of hard work” would actually mean becoming a corporate mascot. It’s a funny story. When I interviewed for this company, the boss, frustrated by poor business performance, suspected bad feng shui. He hired a Feng Shui Master to evaluate the office. After touring the space, the Master asked HR for the employee files. After reviewing them, he told the boss that the feng shui was fine; the problem was the people. The boss was dumbfounded, thinking they had corporate spies. The Master elaborated, claiming that the zodiac signs of certain employees were clashing with the boss’s, and their astrological charts were negatively impacting him. When the Master pointed out the problematic individuals, the boss almost declared bankruptcy on the spot. Because those people, as luck would have it, were all top executives or shareholders. If they were just entry-level clerks, he could just fire them. But firing several top executives? That was basically the same as shutting the company down. Just as the boss was falling into despair, I arrived for my interview. As HR led me past the Master, he pointed at me and told the desperate boss that I had a “wealth-attracting” aura. After looking at my birth chart, the Master excitedly slapped his thigh. He declared that not only would I attract wealth, but I would also neutralize the negative energy from the other employees. He told the boss that if he wanted to save the company, he absolutely had to hire me. I was there for all of this. Hearing this nonsense, I thought I had stumbled into a scam company. This had to be some new kind of fraud. Terrified, I was ready to bolt. The boss, honestly, was only half-believing the Master’s words. But the Master, anxious for the boss’s sake, pleaded with me not to leave. This only made me more convinced it was a scam, and I pulled out my phone, ready to call 911. At that critical moment, a major client the boss had been trying to land for months showed up unannounced. The client said he was in the area for errands, remembered the boss’s office was nearby, and decided to drop in. The Master insisted the boss have me accompany them during the meeting. Under the condition of being paid a thousand dollars upfront before even doing any work, my fresh-out-of-college self completely caved to the temptation. That day, the client happily signed a massive contract, pulling the company back from the brink and turning a profit. 02 The boss had now witnessed my wealth-attracting power firsthand. But… I still didn’t plan on staying. I had interviewed for the R&D department, but the Master told the boss I belonged in Sales. And further, he claimed that whenever they were signing contracts with difficult clients, my presence was required to close the deal and ensure the company’s continued prosperity. It sounded like absolute BS. I didn’t believe a word of it. I was more inclined to believe the client signed so quickly because of the groundwork the boss had previously laid. But the boss… he bought it hook, line, and sinker! To keep me around, he offered a package I couldn’t refuse. He created a brand new role: “Sales Department Contract Specialist.” The salary was $10,000 a month plus commission, full benefits, no clocking in, and flexible hours. My job description? Sit in on meetings when sales reps brought clients in or were closing deals. And just like that, I stayed at the company for six years. Over those six years, as the boss grew the company, my salary steadily increased, and my reputation as the corporate mascot grew increasingly legendary. I thought I’d be at this company for the rest of my life. Then, everything changed half a month ago. The boss, planning another major expansion, promoted the original Sales Director to CEO of a new branch. He then poached a hotshot from a competitor with a hefty salary to drop into the headquarters as the new Sales Director. On his very first day, the boss called me into the new director’s office, Arthur Vance, specifically to introduce us. The boss explicitly told him not to assign me any actual work. Other than being present for client meetings and contract signings, I was free to do whatever I wanted. Right to the boss’s face, Arthur agreed perfectly. Feeling secure, the boss headed straight for the mountains for a two-week digital-detox meditation retreat, aiming to prolong his life so he could enjoy his wealth. The boss never could have imagined that the second he left, Arthur would turn on me… He called the entire sales department into the conference room. There, he aggressively insinuated that I was a shameless fraud who preyed on the boss’s superstitions to create a “wealth-attracting” persona, essentially freeloading off the company. I was so furious I almost fought him right then and there. The sales colleagues I was close with desperately tugged at my clothes under the table. They whispered for me to stay calm, saying he was just trying to provoke me into quitting. That way, even when the boss returned, Arthur could just claim I left on my own accord and wash his hands of it. Well, that wasn’t going to happen… My colleagues told me to endure it for now and complain to the boss when he got back. Fine! I’ll endure it… But my silence only made him more convinced I was a fraud. The next day, when I rolled into work after sleeping in (as usual), he immediately had HR notify me that I was three hours late. He docked my pay for the day and revoked my monthly perfect attendance bonus. He was messing with my money… The HR lady quickly comforted me, telling me not to be impulsive and fight the new director. She assured me the money would be refunded once the boss returned. Sure, she said that, but I still felt incredibly wronged. Seeing me looking so down, my sales department colleagues started feeding me snacks every few minutes. In no time, my desk was covered in boba tea, cake, cookies, chips, spicy snacks, fried chicken, fries, burgers… Sarah, the sales team lead, whispered in my ear, “Chloe, hang in there. When the boss gets back, we’ll make him apologize to you.” Sipping the boba a colleague had brought, my mood improved slightly. “It’s only day two without the boss, and I miss him already…” Sarah couldn’t help but laugh, then smoothly pulled out her phone and held it out to me, pleading, “Stop thinking about the boss for a second. Please make a call for me! I have to land this client. We were having a great conversation, but I couldn’t reach him all day yesterday. I’m sure a competitor is trying to poach him. You call him…” Under Sarah’s expectant gaze, I took the phone and pressed call. “Hello, Sarah…” The call connected instantly. Sarah took the phone back, giving me a thumbs-up while enthusiastically greeting the client on the other end: “Mr. Johnson!…” 03 I watched Sarah leave satisfied and checked the schedule. No sales reps had clients coming in today. Which meant my schedule for the rest of the day was completely open. But to prepare for sudden changes—like a client suddenly having free time or wanting to reschedule—I usually stayed at the office until the end of the workday anyway. Unlike other colleagues who, even when free, had to pretend to be busy, I could openly slack off, watch shows, and read novels when I had no work. My colleagues in the sales department, having worked with me for six years, had absolutely no problem with this. They even frequently recommended good novels and TV shows to me. They were actually terrified that I’d get bored sitting in the office, suddenly decide not to waste my life, and quit to pursue actual hard work. In the beginning, there were those who were resentful, but they were eventually slapped in the face by reality. They wholeheartedly agreed that I deserved the title of “mascot.” I had earned it. Because in my second year, feeling the job was too boring and not wanting to do sales, I begged the boss to transfer me to R&D. The boss couldn’t withstand my persistent begging and finally relented. The moment I left, bizarre things started happening. Several clients who were on the verge of signing inexplicably backed out. At first, the sales team hid this from the boss, thinking it was just a coincidence. They believed closing deals relied on negotiation skills and the company’s products, not on me. They stubbornly kept contacting the clients, trying to change their minds. But the clients were resolute. After all, the products we offered, other companies offered too, at the same price. But those other companies were larger, had better brand recognition, and naturally had an edge. It was tough for our company to compete. Seeing the clients slipping away, the sales team, not wanting to lose their commissions, went to the boss and explained the situation. The boss, furious, yanked me right out of R&D and back to the sales department to hold the fort. Then, the magic happened. A client who was literally on their way to sign with another company almost got into a car accident. Shaken, they decided halfway there to change course and sign with us instead. After that incident, the boss and the entire sales department were absolutely convinced of my metaphysical aura. Even the boss, who might have harbored a tiny sliver of doubt before, treated me even better after that. Except for forbidding me from ever returning to R&D. No matter what I said, I wasn’t allowed back… I was nervous! I had no confidence in this myself! I felt very insecure about my own so-called mascot aura. The boss and my colleagues noticed my restlessness and my desire to leave. That month, they took turns trying to persuade me. The sales team worked tirelessly to find clients and negotiate deals, targeting the top 100 on the “impossible to close” list. If they couldn’t get a meeting, they had me make the call. One call, one meeting. One meeting, one signed contract. That month, the company’s performance broke all records. It was a win-win-win for the boss, my colleagues, and me. The boss made money, my colleagues got their commissions, and my salary went up. From then on, I settled comfortably into the sales department. I ate, I drank, I played… The boss had no objections, my colleagues had no objections… But the new Sales Director had a massive problem with it. Arthur had just penalized my pay this morning for being late. Now, walking past my desk and seeing me watching a TV show, he immediately pivoted and stood beside me. He frowned, his face stern, and tapped his index finger on my desk. “Watching shows and slacking off during work hours is strictly prohibited. Didn’t you know that?” I took off my wireless earbuds and looked up at him. “What did you just say? I didn’t hear you.” His face grew even darker, and he barked, “Warning one for watching shows during work hours! That’s a $200 fine. Three warnings and you’re automatically terminated. I do not allow employees who lack drive and ambition to work under me.” Arthur said this very loudly, immediately panicking the colleagues who were secretly observing the situation. I was so angry I stood up and confronted him. “The boss allows me to watch shows! The boss hasn’t said a word, what right do you have to fine me and issue warnings?” Arthur calmly retorted, “The right of being your direct supervisor. As long as you are in the sales department, I have the authority to manage you.” A colleague stepped up to defend me. “Director Vance, Chloe is different…” Before the colleague could finish, Arthur rudely cut them off. “There is no ‘different.’ There are no special privileges here. If everyone in the sales department acted like her, how would this company ever grow? Do you have too much free time, standing up for her? If you have that much free time, why don’t you make a few more calls and find some new clients? What are you all staring at? Stop working and you can go drink the north wind!”

I was ten years old that summer. The summer my little sister, Nikki, vanished. It happened on the road while she was bringing lunch to our parents. There were no traffic cameras back then, and nobody saw a thing. Because I was supposed to be the one delivering that lunch, my mother never spoke another word to me again. Fifteen years later, I became a cop. Over and over, I walked that same stretch of road she took. Slowly, the past began to reconstruct itself in my mind. Piecing together a truth that would break my heart. 01 August 10, 2009. That was the day my sister disappeared. Back then, we were living in a run-down house on the edge of town, right where the suburbs faded into overgrown fields. My dad worked a grueling shift at the chemical plant nearby. My mom ran a small convenience store off the main highway; it was doing really well. During the summer, the store was packed in the afternoons with people buying sodas and ice cream. Dad would head straight there to help out the moment he clocked off. They were often too busy to even think about eating. So, for that entire summer break, cooking for the family fell to ten-year-old me. Our kitchen didn’t have A/C, just an old, rattling box fan. Once the water started boiling, the humidity became unbearable. The fan just blew hot air around. Cooking meant being drenched in sweat. The day it happened was particularly brutal. By the time I finished cooking, I felt heatstroke setting in. I was home alone with Nikki. My grandma lived in the house next door, but she was a bitter, harsh woman. She wouldn’t help; she’d just criticize. I didn’t dare ask her for anything. I splashed some cold water on my face, fighting down the dizziness. I dished up some cold noodles for Nikki and told her to eat first. Then, I packed Mom and Dad’s lunch into containers and put them in a picnic basket. Nikki took a few bites of her noodles, then looked at me. “Sarah, you go lie down in front of the fan,” she said. “I’ll deliver lunch today. I know the way. I’ll finish my noodles when I get back.” It was only a ten-minute walk from our house to the store. It was a straight shot down one road—not exactly deserted. I had walked it with her hundreds of times. But I was still hesitant. “Are you sure you can handle it?” I asked, half-lying on the sofa with a wet washcloth pressed to my forehead. “I’m fine, don’t worry. It’s right down the street. I’ll be back before you know it.” She grabbed the basket and headed out before I could argue. She had always been sickly and thin. When she lifted the basket, I could see the sharp outline of her shoulder blades through her t-shirt. Her little silhouette looked so fragile. Before stepping out the door, she waved at me. “I’m going to be right back! And Sarah, no stealing my noodles while I’m gone!” “Don’t worry, I won’t touch them!” I waved her off impatiently, urging her to get going. But she never came back. 02 “Do you think… if I had told her that I would steal her noodles… if I’d given her something to worry about… do you think she would have come back?” January 9, 2024. I officially joined the City Police Department as a probationary officer. Nine months later, I was talking to my mentor, Senior Officer Miller, about the cold case that had haunted me for fifteen years. “When did you realize she was gone?” Miller asked. I rubbed my eyes. “Around 2:00 PM, I think. After she left, I forced myself to eat a few bites of noodles, and then I passed out. I woke up when my dad slapped me across the face.” Even after all this time, the memory was excruciatingly clear. I opened my eyes to see my father’s face, contorted with rage. “Why didn’t you deliver the food? Were you trying to starve us to death?” he screamed. I burst into tears. “Nikki left to deliver it ages ago!” As soon as the words left my mouth, I saw the half-eaten bowl of noodles on the table. It hit me like a physical blow—she hadn’t come back. A chill raced down my spine. The terror instantly choked back my tears. 03 “We searched everywhere. Back then, surveillance didn’t cover that small road; cameras were only on the main highway. My family ran around like headless chickens, driven mad by despair.” “They dragged the retention ponds along the road three times. Nothing. We hired people to go down into the old wells in the area. Nothing.” “After we filed the missing persons report, the cops checked the highway cameras. They didn’t see anyone suspicious. They interviewed the neighbors, the people in the surrounding subdivisions. Nobody had seen my sister.” Nikki had just… vanished. My mom hit me, collapsing onto the floor, screaming in agony. “How could you be so lazy? Why didn’t you go? Why did you make her go?” My grandmother, a devout woman, declared that the Lord would not forgive a child whose laziness and selfishness caused her sister to be lost. In a fit of rage, my dad kicked me repeatedly, knocking me to the ground. The neighbors, not knowing the truth, didn’t step in to stop him. They just pointed fingers at me. I became like a wooden puppet. I didn’t shed a single tear. I just walked to that road where Nikki disappeared and stood there, obstinately, for three days. I didn’t blink, staring at the intersection, waiting for her little silhouette to appear. But no miracle happened. After that day, nobody in my family really spoke to me. Especially my mom. For the next fifteen years, she never said another word to me. Once I got into middle school, I went to boarding school. I’d come home on weekends just to grab money and clean clothes, and then I’d leave immediately. I didn’t dare stay a moment longer than necessary. During those years, I walked that road over and over again. I examined every blade of grass, every tree, trying to find a single clue. I imagined countless scenarios. It was torture. 04 “How long did you usually nap back then?” Miller asked, flipping through the case file I’d requested. He seemed genuinely interested in the case. Years ago, it had been classified as a missing persons case and shelved for over a decade. “It depended. Sometimes long, sometimes short. But that day, I don’t know why, I was exceptionally tired. I slept for over two hours, right up until my dad woke me up.” “You said you had heatstroke. What did that feel like? Do you remember?” I tried hard to recall how I felt that afternoon. “Totally drained. Drowsy. Dizzy. My head felt incredibly heavy…” Miller listened, then fell silent for a moment, contemplating. “Have you ever considered that it might not have been heatstroke?” My scalp went numb. I stared at him, my eyes wide. “Symptoms of heatstroke include dizziness, ringing in the ears, headache, weakness, nausea, vomiting, cold sweat…” “Your symptoms don’t really sound like heatstroke. They sound more like you ingested…” My heart hammered in my chest. Before he could finish, I blurted out, “Ingested what?” “Sleeping pills. Or something with a strong sedative effect,” Miller said, looking at me meaningfully. Why had I never thought of that? The symptoms of sedatives and heatstroke did have a lot in common. However, heatstroke has two very distinct features—nausea/vomiting and cold sweats. I remembered clearly. That day, I had neither. Every hair on my body stood on end. 05 Back then, everyone, including the police, took it for granted that I was just lazy and made Nikki go because I was scared of the heat. Everything I said was dismissed as an excuse to avoid responsibility. They poured all their energy into the search. Because of that, they missed this crucial clue. “Miller, what made you think it wasn’t heatstroke?” There was finally a breakthrough in the case. I was shaking with adrenaline. “It’s simple. Based on your story, you and your sister were very close. She was young, and you were worried about her going alone.” “Normally, you would have stayed awake until she came back. But you fell asleep, and for a long time. If your father hadn’t woken you, you probably would have slept longer.” “Clearly, that isn’t normal.” Miller spoke as he reviewed the file. My eyes welled up, and I nodded. In all these years, Miller was the first person to notice that the bond between my sister and me was extraordinary. After Nikki disappeared, my dad pointed a finger at me and screamed, “What kind of big sister are you? Your sister is gone and you’re asleep? Why didn’t you just sleep yourself to death?!” Back then, I didn’t understand why I had fallen asleep. I hated myself for it. Nobody knew how much I loved my sister. Nobody knew that our bond was far deeper than that of average sisters. It wasn’t just because we were together 24 hours a day before I started school. It was because, whether it was freezing winter or scorching summer, we huddled together, facing life’s hardships as one. Back then, our parents were so focused on the business that they left Nikki and me with our grandmother. But she spent all her time running around to church group meetings, often leaving us home alone all day, completely ignored. So, by the time I was six, I was cooking for Nikki. If I burnt the rice, we ate burnt rice together. If it tasted good, we enjoyed it together. When other kids cried, they called for their mothers. When my sister cried, she called for her big sister. 06 “You were sweating heavily that day, so you must have drunk a lot of water. The problem was likely in the water.” Miller pointed to the water bottle in front of me. “But who would drugg a ten-year-old? And what would be the motive?” I couldn’t help asking. As I spoke, two possibilities flashed through my mind, each one more devastating than the last. “Did your family have any enemies?” I shook my head. “My parents believed in the philosophy of ‘harmony brings wealth’ in business. They rarely got into conflicts. The only local troublemaker they had issues with had an airtight alibi for that day.” As we were talking, a commotion broke out outside. A couple had come into the station to report a missing child. “Officers, please, our daughter is eight years old. She’s autistic. Her father was taking her to her therapy session, and she got lost on the way.” “You have to help us!” The woman was frantic, practically ready to fall to her knees. The man looked dejected and spoke with self-blame, but his expression had a strange, hard-to-hide sense of relief. Seeing this, I had a pretty good idea of what was going on. I’d only been on the force for a year, but I’d already seen several cases like this. Most of them were special needs children. The families couldn’t afford the therapy bills, or the parents had been broken by years of relentless struggle and saw no hope. So, they abandoned the child, then came to the station to report them missing just to save face and avoid being criticized by the community. Despite my suspicions, I still questioned the man in detail about what happened. “We were walking through the waterfront park, and she saw someone feeding the seagulls. No matter how much I pulled, she wouldn’t budge. I finally relented and went to buy a bag of birdseed. But in the split second my back was turned, she was gone.” The child went missing around 5:00 PM, right when the tide was coming in. They had searched everywhere themselves before coming to report it. By now, the child had been missing for over two hours. If she had fallen into the water, she’d be gone in minutes. If she’d been taken by human traffickers, two hours was enough time to reach the bus or train station. It was too late. Even so, the police department couldn’t just ignore it. Miller had me immediately blast out a missing persons alert on social media, using the location of her disappearance as the central radius. He also dispatched a squad to check major transportation hubs and contacted two professional search and rescue teams to conduct an overnight search along the coast. We were attacking it from three angles, doing everything that could be done. The rest was up to fate. 07 After the couple left, expressing their profound gratitude, Miller looked out at the dark night sky. “The odds of that child being alive are low,” he said. “It’s only a matter of time before the body is found.” “Your sister had severe asthma, didn’t she? Is it possible…” I shook my head violently, in denial. “No way. My family never, ever considered my sister a burden. After Nikki was lost, I became the family’s biggest criminal. My mom hasn’t spoken a single word to me in fifteen years.” He looked at me, tapping the case file. “What about your grandmother? How did she treat you two?” I was stunned. “You suspect my grandmother?” It was true. If it wasn’t an enemy, the only people who could have put sleeping pills in my water, other than my parents, were my grandmother. “I’m not saying I suspect her definitively. I’m just considering possibilities and analyzing the case.” “To be honest, she wasn’t great. But that day, she had multiple witnesses proving she was at a neighbor’s house for a prayer group. She also has an airtight alibi.” Miller fell silent for a moment, then asked, “Are you sure nobody saw your sister?” “That road was a bit out of the way; there was almost nobody around on a summer afternoon. There were only three businesses along that stretch. Two of them were BBQ joints that only opened at night. The third one was a small place that sold tea eggs. The owner was disabled and lived in the shop, but it was closed during the afternoon too. So, nobody saw her.” Miller kept shaking his head. “Well, that is strange. This case is truly baffling.” Even Miller was stumped. The hope that had just ignited within me began to fade. I stared at the photo of the missing child on my computer screen. Same age as my sister, same big, innocent eyes. A heavy weight settled in my chest. Miller saw that I was discouraged and offered some words of comfort. “Sarah, don’t give up. As long as a body hasn’t been found, there’s still hope your sister is alive. Try hard to recall the details. Our job requires both boldness and attention to detail. Any act, once committed, leaves traces. Go home when you have time; see if being there sparks any memories.” I nodded. 08 It was late at night by the time I clocked off. My new rental apartment wasn’t far from my parents’ house. As I walked, I found myself heading toward that road where Nikki disappeared. This road, which had once held only two or three shops, had been completely transformed into a bustling street food alley. Even at midnight, vendors were still open for business. Miller was right. Every action leaves a trace. There had to be some detail I had overlooked. What was it? “Tea eggs! Tea eggs! Five-spice tea eggs!” The vendor, his eyes closed, strained his ears. He called out to me, “Is that the oldest Hayes daughter? Just off work? Come have a tea egg, fresh out of the pot!” His name was Mr. Carter, and he was blind. All us kids used to privately call him “Blind Carter.” He had been running this tea egg stand on this road for over twenty years. When we were little, Nikki and I used to secretly take money to buy his tea eggs. My mom didn’t allow it; she said he was blind and his food was unsanitary and would make us sick. Kids don’t care about that stuff, though. We just cared that they were delicious. People always say blind people have incredible hearing, and it’s true. Even though there weren’t many people on the street at midnight, there were still five or six people around me. “It’s me, Mr. Carter. I’ll take two tea eggs, please.” When I was little, I bought two because one was for Nikki and one was for me. Now I bought two because it was a habit. “Coming right up! I remember you girls always loved my tea eggs!” He scooped out the eggs, smiling politely. His wrinkled face looked like a walnut. As he spoke the second sentence, he seemed to realize something. His hand froze, and the smile on his face became strained and unnatural. “Still haven’t found her, have you? I set up my stand late that day. I was inside the whole time, so I was no help. I’m so sorry, Sarah.” As he spoke, he rubbed his nose. That was a classic sign of guilt. “I don’t blame you. Because you didn’t hear anything that day, right?” I said, emphasizing the word “hear.” His hand, holding the eggs, trembled. He quickly stepped in front of me, stopping me from scanning the QR code to pay. “No money needed! I’ve heard the news, Sarah. You’re wearing the uniform now! You’ve made the neighborhood proud! These two tea eggs are on the house!” Blind Carter was famously stingy. In all these years, he even made his own brother and sister-in-law pay for eggs. And today, he was giving them to me for free? “Thank you, Mr. Carter!” I carefully took the eggs, but I scanned the code anyway. His tea eggs were two dollars each. I transferred ten dollars. At the sound of the confirmation—”Received: Ten Dollars”—Mr. Carter got agitated. He waved his hands frantically. “You stubborn girl! What did you do that for? Why give so much?” I leaned in close to him. “I’m reinvestigating my sister’s disappearance. Mr. Carter, if you can provide any crucial leads, there will be a significant reward from the department.” His ears twitched. He stood stunned for a long moment, then sighed and said, “Your sister truly was a tragedy. I don’t want the reward. I’ll only tell you what I heard. I can’t guarantee it’s true. If it helps, just come back and buy more tea eggs.” Blind Carter’s hearing was famous for a reason. He could tell exactly who was passing by his shop just from their footsteps. That afternoon, before the news of my sister’s disappearance spread, an unexpected person passed by his shop. “Sarah, look closely. Recall the details of the past. Don’t rule out anyone close to you.” That was Blind Carter’s final piece of advice. 09 September 25, 2024. The missing autistic child was found. Her body was bloated and disfigured by the seawater, her internal organs completely eaten away by fish and sea birds. It was a gruesome sight. Her parents were sobbing uncontrollably, putting on a big show of grief. But the wailing was just… theatrical. It felt wrong. In the six months I’d been at the station, I’d already seen too much of the complexity of human grief and joy. The truth is, genuine sorrow, the kind that rips your heart out, is often silent. Sometimes you can’t even shed a single tear. Unfortunately, we had zero evidence to prove that the father—or even both parents—had deliberately put the child in danger. My mood was absolute garbage. Maybe it was because the victim in this case was the same age Nikki was when she disappeared. Maybe it was because she, like my sister, had an incurable illness. Everything about it made me think of Nikki. I remembered her smile, her running into my arms, sweetly calling me “Big Sister.” I remembered her helplessness and pain during her asthma attacks. I dreamt desperately of knowing if she was still alive. Was she okay? Where did she go? The uncertainty was torturing me. I felt like I was going insane.

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I’ve been married to my best friend’s brother for six months, and we still haven’t consummated our marriage. In a fit of rage, I called my best friend. “I can’t live like this anymore. I’m going to divorce your brother.” To my surprise, my best friend wailed through the phone: “I can’t live like this either! I’m divorcing your brother tomorrow!” 01 Hearing those words, I froze. I almost forgot that my best friend and I had married each other’s brothers. Thinking about it, my best friend’s situation seemed slightly more tragic than mine. Married for six months, and she hadn’t even had the chance to deeply explore her own man’s body. Unlike me. At least I had seen it. I let out a heavy sigh, and like two souls stranded on the same deserted island, I said with deep sympathy: “Babe, meet me at the club.” “Let’s go find some hot male models to feel up.” … I arrived earlier than my best friend. I secured a VIP table, ordered a fruit platter, and cracked open some sunflower seeds while I waited. Five minutes later, my best friend, Chloe, strutted in. She was rocking five-inch stilettos and fierce “wildcat” makeup, looking absolutely devastating. She raised her hand and immediately ordered a round of shots. I leaned in, hungry for the gossip: “What happened with you and my brother?” After all, what are best friends for? The moment I asked, she raised an eyebrow and shot the question right back at me. “What about you? What happened with my brother?” The ultimate standoff. Neither of us wanted to crack first. I let out a dramatic, soul-crushing sigh: “He won’t let me sleep with him!” Chloe and I got our marriage licenses exactly one day apart. Initially, all I knew was that she had a brother who was a doctor. I had no idea what he looked like. That was, until a nightmare client stressed me out so badly I developed a breast nodule and had to go to the hospital to get it checked. Chloe, terrified that I’d be groped by some creepy old doctor, specifically called in her young, handsome brother. I was thinking, how handsome could he really be? And then reality slapped me in the face. The moment I saw Dr. Liam Hayes’ face, my heart went into overdrive. For the first time in my life, I felt the electric jolt of a high school crush. Even with a surgical mask covering half his face, leaving only those beautiful, aloof eyes visible, I knew one thing for certain: every single part of him hiding under that white coat was dancing perfectly on my aesthetic sweet spot! As soon as the exam was over, I immediately demanded Chloe give me his number. She warned me that her brother was pretty cold and unapproachable. I confidently declared that no man could resist the offensive of my unparalleled beauty. And then, reality slapped me in the face for a second time. During my aggressive pursuit, I playfully texted him: [Dr. Hayes, what did you have for lunch today? :3] He replied an entire day later: [I didn’t have lunch. I had a sandwich yesterday.] Me: […] Furious, I shifted to a real-world offensive, forcing Chloe to orchestrate a movie date for us. In the dark theater, a horror movie was playing. Liam watched with clinical detachment. I let out a delicate “Ah!” and shrank into his arms, pretending to be terrified. He looked down at me. I blinked my eyes rapidly, reciting the script I had practiced in my head: “My chest still hurts a little… Dr. Hayes, could you rub it for me?” I thought I nailed the tone—the perfect mix of pitiful and helpless. However, he just stared at me heavily. Behind those silver-rimmed glasses, his eyes were like deep whirlpools, making my heart flutter wildly. The vibe was so perfect, I genuinely thought he was going to lean in and kiss me. But the very next second, he stiffly pushed me away. His Adam’s apple bobbed: “Ms. Davis, please just watch the movie. Otherwise, you’re wasting your ticket.” “…” 02 How do I even describe the expression on my face at that moment? It was absolute garbage. Turns out, even I can capsize in a shallow ditch! “I can’t live like this! I seriously can’t. Your brother must be asexual, or he’s got issues down there!” I couldn’t even eat my sunflower seeds anymore. I popped the bottle of liquor open, ready to get blackout drunk. Chloe wailed in frustration and aggressively clinked her glass against mine: “I can’t live with your brother either! Such a waste of a gorgeous face. He must have a lymph node attached to his vocal cords because his mouth is absolute poison!” “Remember that dress I bought a few days ago? The one you said looked amazing? I took a picture and sent it to him, and he actually said it was so tight it looked like it was made for a praying mantis! Has he ever even seen a praying mantis with a body this good?!” I burst out laughing. Chloe was also obsessed with looks. She fell for my brother, Ethan, at first sight. The two of us basically forced ourselves on these men, forcefully matchmaking our own marriages. We originally thought married life would be sweet and passionate. Instead, we were living more celibate lives than nuns in a convent. “And I just don’t get it. Is your brother, Mr. Big Shot Corporate Lawyer, really that busy with cases every single day? He’s always holed up in his study. The place we talk the most is on iMessage. I seriously suspect he has someone else on the side!” Chloe’s voice rose with righteous indignation. I stared at the swirling liquor in my glass and nodded in heavy agreement. “I think your brother has someone else too. I parade around him in flimsy silk slip dresses, and he actually manages to resist throwing me on the bed! Just the other day, I asked him what flavor of condoms he liked, and he dead-ass told me ‘There’s no rush’ with a completely straight face!” “Everyone knows that if a man has no desire for a woman, nine times out of ten, he’s just not interested. I hate this! We’re literally married and I still haven’t gotten any action!” “Two absolute dog men.” Chloe patted my shoulder with intense mutual hatred: “Let’s divorce them. I’ll file tomorrow, you file the day after. We’ll take their assets and go live our best lives.” That was exactly what I had in mind. 03 Chloe and I are both women of action. The very next day, we went back to get our marriage certificates. Since she was divorcing first, I accompanied her back to the Hayes family home. The main estate was in the neighboring city. When we arrived, we hadn’t told anyone we were coming. We originally thought the massive mansion would only have the domestic staff. So when we walked in and saw a table of wealthy socialites playing Mahjong, we were dumbfounded. I leaned into Chloe’s ear: “Didn’t you say your mom was on a vacation abroad?” She was equally bewildered: “She literally posted vacation photos on Instagram yesterday! We’re screwed. What if she realizes what we’re doing?” Me: “Be stealthy. Do you know where the marriage certificates are kept?” “I know!” she swore confidently. Mrs. Hayes noticed us, her eyes lighting up as she asked with pleasant surprise what brought me here. Chloe, nervous, mumbled an excuse and hurriedly pulled me into the elevator. However, after searching for a long time without finding the documents, I slumped onto the sofa, completely drained, before getting up to help her look again. Right then, Liam sent me a text. [Mom said you went back to the main house?] I thought for a second, then sent a cute “Mhm-mhm” sticker. Liam: [Have fun. I’ll come pick you up after work. I’ll have Maria make your favorite sweet and sour ribs.] I stared at that sentence for a long time. What was going on? Was Liam in a really good mood today? But last night, he had clearly rejected me again… Thinking about it made me angry. Last night, Chloe and I got drunk, and both he and my brother showed up at the club. One man grabbed one woman. Chloe was throwing a massive tantrum, while I was as quiet as a mouse. I originally wanted to bring up the divorce, but I accidentally fell asleep in the car on the way back. When I woke up, Liam was carefully taking off my makeup with a cleansing wipe. His face was a massive bonus point in my book. At that moment, the alcohol rushed to my head, and I was dazzled by his long, pale, aristocratic fingers. I grabbed his hand, pressed it against my chest, and blearily repeated my old trick. “Dr. Hayes, my heart beats so fast when I see you. Can you rub it and calm me down?” Muttering, I leaned heavily into his chest. His breathing hitched. He told me to lie down properly and quickly finished taking off my makeup. As he spoke, his warm breath brushed against my ear, sending shivers straight to my heart. So I started taking off my clothes. My outer cardigan was tossed aside, leaving me in just a thin slip dress, a bright expanse of pale shoulder exposed. Un-dried droplets of water from the makeup wipe slid down my collarbone, dampening the plain fabric of my dress. Completely oblivious, I felt a rush of liberation and threw myself at him with hazy, half-lidded eyes. “Dr. Hayes, we haven’t consummated our marriage yet, have we?” We were so close. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. The rice was practically boiling in the pot. I thought we were finally going to go all the way. But he just pinched the bridge of his nose, his large hands stopping my fingers from unbuttoning his shirt. “Maya, you’re drunk. Be good and stay here. Let me go make you some hangover soup, okay?” I was instantly stunned. I completely failed to register the tenderness in his voice. All I saw were those deep, dark pool-like eyes, completely devoid of any lust. Liam Hayes truly felt absolutely nothing for me. I immediately burst into loud, ugly tears. “…” Remembering that shameful scene, and now looking at his text messages, I irritably locked my phone and ignored him. Right then, the bedroom door cracked open, and Mrs. Hayes poked her head in. “What are you girls looking for?” Chloe’s brow was deeply furrowed. She was clearly frustrated from the search and blurted out without thinking. “Looking for our marriage certificates!” “…” 04 Disaster struck. The entire house was in an uproar. The Mahjong socialites had been politely ushered out. Living room. Mrs. Hayes sat the two of us down on the sofa, looking at Chloe with high alert. “You want a divorce?” Knowing she couldn’t hide it, Chloe nodded with the resolve of a martyr: “Yes. It’s pointless.” Mrs. Hayes gritted her teeth, reprimanding her with deep disappointment. “Back then, you were crying and screaming that you had to be with Ethan! Who was it that said she couldn’t live without him? And now what is this nonsense?!” I couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. Truth be told, I had used every trick in the book to hook Liam, too. But who knew he was practically a monk? I hated that I wasn’t a man, otherwise I could just run away with my best friend! “Mom, you can’t force love,” Chloe sighed, looking incredibly wronged. “Ethan doesn’t love me at all.” “I’m planning to stay in the city. The city has great male models. I could pull any random guy off the street and he’d be better than that jerk Ethan!” Just as she finished her sentence, a tall, imposing figure appeared. My brother, Ethan Davis, looked like he had rushed over in a panic. The usually immaculate elite corporate lawyer actually had a loosened tie and a frantic look in his eyes. “Chloe.” He walked right up to her, his tone stiff. “You want a divorce?” “Everything is fine. Why do you suddenly want a divorce?” The family group chat had exploded, bringing everyone who heard the news rushing over. Seeing Liam striding into the room, I pressed my lips tightly together. He radiated a cold, aloof aura. As he walked up to me, I quietly took a step back. “Not feeling well?” Seeing my pale face, he leaned in and asked softly. I didn’t say anything. I’m only feeling unwell because I’m looking at you! The atmosphere was incredibly tense. Ethan’s brow was deeply furrowed. He tried to go over and hug Chloe, but she slapped his hands away. “There’s nothing to say. I’ve already made my decision.” She glared at Ethan with pure hatred. “Go spend the rest of your life with your legal briefs! You venomous snake!” Saying that, she grabbed her purse and tried to drag me away with her. Liam quickly grabbed my arm, his tone deep and serious. Finally, he spoke up: “Chloe, marriage isn’t a game.” “Also, don’t drag Maya into this mess of yours.” Hearing this, Chloe looked at her brother in absolute disbelief: “Why are you trying to stop me? You’re about to get divorced too.” “…” As the words dropped, everyone’s eyes instantly locked onto me. … 05 “He… he doesn’t treat me well.” Faced with an avalanche of questions, I could only bury my head, twist the hem of my shirt tightly, and whisper softly. Damn it. I couldn’t very well say that Liam has this incredibly fresh, juicy body, but he refuses to let me even taste it, and that a literal sex toy is more fun than him, right? That would make me sound absolutely desperate and horny. I had barely finished my excuse when Mrs. Hayes, wielding a walking cane that appeared out of nowhere, delivered a solid whack to Liam’s back. She held back her strength, but the loud ‘Thwack’ echoing off his back was especially sharp. She expressed her deep disappointment once again: “What did I tell you? I told you to be more proactive, you absolute blockhead! Now look what happened, you’re about to lose your wife!” Mrs. Hayes cursed Liam out furiously, then immediately turned to coax me. She said Liam had never been in a relationship before. Before I showed up, he didn’t even have female mosquitoes around him. She begged me to reconsider. If this dead-brained idiot didn’t fix his behavior, she promised she would personally introduce me to other, better men. Hearing this, Chloe wasn’t having it: “Mom, your son definitely doesn’t act like he hasn’t dated. He acts like a cold, emotionless robot! He’s a young man living the life of an 80-year-old monk. Our Maya is suffering so much being with him. We cannot just let this slide.” I silently gave my best friend a mental thumbs-up. Liam’s thin lips pressed into a tight line. A rare look of guilt appeared on his usually indifferent, ascetic face. He tried to reach out and take my hand to say something, but I dodged him like he had the plague. Holding hands? That costs extra! The room fell into a heavy silence again. Ethan couldn’t help but let out a soft cough. I shot him a glare. “Brother, let me be clear. Chloe doesn’t want you, and you need to take a long, hard look in the mirror! With that razor-sharp tongue of yours, even a dog walking past you would get verbally assaulted. You’re destined to die alone.” “…” Chloe secretly gave me a thumbs-up. Mrs. Hayes clutched her chest, sighing heavily. “Liam, it was a miracle Maya even looked your way, you should be burning incense in gratitude. And you actually neglected her? That’s crossing the line!” My mom was also currently on the phone, cursing Ethan out from head to toe. “…” An hour later, Liam and Ethan were still obediently standing in the center of the room, taking their verbal beatings. Dignity—the pride of men—shattered all over the floor. I thought they would finally cave and agree to the divorces. Instead, the two of them unanimously declared that even if we divorced, there was a mandatory 30-day “cooling off” period anyway. They each pulled out a black Amex card, asking us to give them one month to prove they had changed. Liam pushed his silver-rimmed glasses up his nose, walked up to me, and said with absolute seriousness: “Maya, I’ve been so busy with work lately that I haven’t paid enough attention to you. That is my fault. Please rest assured, I will spend this month correcting my mistakes, and I promise to cherish you properly from now on.” “That Hermes Birkin in the exact color you mentioned you liked will be delivered to you very soon. Take this card, and go wild at the Bulgari high-jewelry salon in a few days.” I froze. Before I could even process Liam’s impeccably smooth, flawless speech. My brother, refusing to be outdone, straightened his tie and looked at Chloe: “Ahem, Chloe, I admit I had a bit of an occupational hazard. I’m used to being sharp-tongued, but those were never my true feelings. I didn’t mean a single word of it.” “Take this card for your pocket money. Didn’t you say you wanted to buy a Steinway grand piano for your social circle events? I’ll have it arranged for you. Just please, calm your anger.” “…” And then. The two of them stared at us with eyes overflowing with tenderness, as if pouring an entire lifetime of deep devotion into this single moment. “We absolutely refuse to agree to a divorce!” “…” Those two black cards sat there, radiating an intoxicating, irresistible glow right in front of us. Chloe and I exchanged looks, both of us seeing the golden dollar signs shining in each other’s eyes. Everyone was waiting for our reaction. My heart was itching to take it. But I couldn’t bear to look like I was losing the upper hand. My brain spun, and I swiftly snatched my brother’s card from his hand. “Do you think Chloe cares about this tiny bit of compensation?” Chloe instantly caught on and lightning-fast grabbed her brother’s card: “This little bit of money isn’t even enough to fill the gaps between Maya’s teeth!” Saying that, with the cards securely in our hands, terrified they might ask for the money back, we linked arms and speed-walked toward the exit. Our steps were perfectly synchronized. Every two steps, we’d look back over our shoulders to establish our firm stance. “Heh, you really think we can be bought off with just a few measly bucks?!” 06 Late at night, at my private villa. Chloe and I swapped the cards we had taken, stared at each other in silence for two seconds, and then burst out laughing. Me: “I had no idea your brother was this loaded.” Her: “I also had no idea your brother was hiding this much cash.” Out on the open-air balcony, we comfortably sank into the plush sofas, poured some red wine, clinked our glasses, and happily put on a movie. While we were watching, Chloe tilted her head and suddenly asked: “Wait, what did they actually give you for your ‘hush money’?” Me: “You go first.” She gave me a look of exasperated fondness, got up from the sofa, and came back holding a velvet box. Opening it, she revealed a crystal-clear, flawless, icy-white jade bangle. “Your mom had the butler courier it to me. Honestly, she has amazing taste. I’ll get you one just like it later.” “What did my mom give you to compensate?” I pulled out my phone and showed her the message: “She said she’s getting me a private fashion show viewing.” As soon as I said it, I realized my mistake and corrected her. “What do you mean ‘your mom’ and ‘my mom’? That’s our mom.” Chloe blinked, then nodded enthusiastically. “Ah, right, right, right.” My phone dinged. Liam had sent a message. In a groundbreaking first, he was actually asking if I had eaten. He said he had made my favorite sweet and sour ribs. The photo attached showed the dining table, looking lonely and empty. Except for the ribs, which looked glossy, red, and perfectly coated in a thick sauce. You could practically taste how delicious they were through the screen. I stared at it intently for a good while, then pulled my craving eyes away, with absolutely no intention of replying. Unexpectedly, he immediately sent another photo. A picture of his bare torso, showcasing his abs. Before I could even click to enlarge it, he un-sent it. Liam: [Sent to the wrong person.] Me: “…” Sent to the wrong person, my foot. Like anyone actually wants to see it anyway. I locked my screen. I noticed Chloe had fallen asleep, so I grabbed a light blanket to cover her. Her phone kept dinging constantly. I just reached over and put it on silent. I did my pre-sleep yoga and was just getting into bed when my phone rang again. I didn’t notice it was a FaceTime call and accidentally hit accept. When I finally looked at the screen, a massive expanse of skin flooded my vision. 07 The lighting in the room was dim. My little kitten, Pip, was pressing his soft, cute paws into Liam’s chest, giving an adorable little “meow” towards the camera. Except, my gaze shifted to the sharply defined abs and the swelling contours of his chest muscles. I was stunned. Was Liam… trying to seduce me?! On the other end of the video, Pip seemed to sense I was admiring the view. He very obligingly hopped off Liam’s chest, and in the process, dragged down the grey silk blanket that was barely covering Liam’s waist and abdomen. This perfectly exposed his Adonis belt. I felt like I was going to get a nosebleed. Mhm. Exactly the same as when I accidentally walked in on him showering last time. The absolute peak of lean muscle. The sexual tension was off the charts. It was just missing a view of his lower half. My heart traitorously started pounding. After I stared for a good while, Liam suddenly looked at the camera, his tone laced with a smile. “Maya, do I look good?” “…” Our eyes met. I widened my eyes in feigned outrage and stuttered: “W-who’s looking at you? Shameless.” “Okay, my fault.” He chuckled softly, his expression infuriatingly gentle. “Did you see the picture I sent you? Pip hasn’t been eating much.” That was a reference to the photo of Pip eating that Liam had sent a few hours ago. He had messaged: [Since you’ve been gone, his appetite hasn’t been great. He probably misses you.] Through the lens, Pip looked at me pitifully. Hah. He sure cares about Pip. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was the one missing me. I indulged the hidden meaning behind his words: “It’s fine. I’ll come pick him up and bring him here in a few days.” “…” Liam went silent. I was just about to hang up when he suddenly lowered his voice, and asked somewhat unnaturally: “Then what about me?” My phone was about to die. While scrambling to find the charger, I blurted out without thinking: “What about you?” “…” And he shut his mouth again.

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During a ranked match, I flamed an enemy Support player named “Jade.” That very same day, a mega-popular actress with millions of followers publicly called me out on X (formerly Twitter), directing her fans to cyberbully me. [Who does this trash think she is, flaming our precious Jade?] [If you don’t want to get doxxed, you better hurry up and apologize.] Looking at my 99+ DMs filled with death threats and insults, I let out a cold laugh. I immediately called my family’s executive secretary and had him permanently ban Jade’s gaming and social media accounts. After all, who doesn’t have a few burner accounts? 01 I was playing my promotion series in League of Legends. As soon as the match started, the enemy Support (a Yuumi player) named “Jade” typed in all-chat: [Anyone want to kiss up to me a little?] No one on my team replied. She typed again: [OK, ignored. Babe, wipe them out.] For the rest of that game, our team got absolutely massacred by their Jungler. He went 20-0. When the game ended, I instinctively checked the Jungler’s profile. He had a top-tier Challenger badge—clearly a professional booster. Outskilled. I sighed, used a rank protection card, and queued up for my next match. Who knew I would match against the exact same Jungler and Jade duo again? Jade seemed to recognize me too. As soon as we loaded in, she specifically called out my champion: [You were the mid-laner last game, right? How about you beg me this time, and maybe I’ll tell my Jungler to spare you?] I replied with a string of ellipses: […] I assumed she was just an edgy, attention-seeking teenager and didn’t want to engage. But she took my silence as a provocation. For the entire match, her Support character rode on the Jungler’s shoulders, specifically hunting me down. No matter where I went, the second I showed on the map, my screen went gray. To make matters worse, she intentionally stood over my corpse to spam taunts in the chat. [Hey little mid-laner, say something nice and we’ll let you go.] [Still not begging?] [Don’t push the nexus yet, let’s fountain dive her a few more times.] I tolerated it for a long time. Looking at my 0-16 KDA, I finally typed: [Can you just push and end? I’m in a hurry to queue up again.] Jade instantly replied: [Aww, she’s mad.] [I won’t push. I just want to kill you, what are you gonna do about it?] […] 02 Eventually, my teammates couldn’t take it anymore and voted to surrender. I was incredibly annoyed and wanted to log off immediately. Suddenly, a game invite popped up on my screen. Before I could even read it, I accidentally clicked accept. The moment I entered the lobby, the host started the game. It was a 5v5 custom match. I blindly picked a champion. Once the loading screen appeared, I was horrified to see “Jade” and her booster Jungler on the enemy team. Me: “…” This is never going to end, is it?! Sure enough, as soon as the game started, they stuck together like glue and tortured me in every corner of the jungle. Every time I died, Jade would type insults in the chat. Finally, I snapped. I went AFK in the fountain and started typing furiously in all-chat: [Bark all you want. You’re getting carried by a booster, do you actually think you have skills?] [You had to drag your booster into a custom lobby just to fight me? 1v1 me if you actually have the guts.] [We’re both girls, what’s with this toxic pick-me attitude? You need people to worship you? Are you even a legal adult, little girl?] After hitting send, I immediately voted to surrender, closed the client, and uninstalled the game. I thought that was the end of it. But the next day, my college roommate forwarded me a video on iMessage: [Elena, is this game ID yours? I remember you using this name?] A heavy sense of dread settled in my stomach. I frowned and clicked the video. It was a screen recording of a TikTok gaming livestream. A pretty, innocent-looking girl with flawless “no-makeup” makeup was sitting in front of her PC, holding her phone with a pitiful, teary expression: “I was just joking around with her. Why did she get so mad? Even if I went a little overboard, she didn’t have to curse me out with such awful words, right?” As she spoke, she pointed her stream camera at her monitor. There, glaringly obvious, was my game ID. “She probably already blocked me. Can you guys go ask her to apologize to me? I really wasn’t doing it on purpose, it was just for the stream’s entertainment.” The video went viral instantly. The views skyrocketed into the tens of millions. Countless netizens were aggressively commenting: [Is this girl that sensitive? A simple internet joke triggered her that badly?] [Women who spew trash like that are garbage. Why should our Jade apologize?] [She actually dared to curse at our Jade Montgomery? She kicked the wrong steel plate today!] [Guys, her friend requests are turned off, I can’t flame her in-game.] [Don’t worry babies, I already found her Instagram and X accounts. Let’s get her!] 03 I closed the video with a deadpan expression. My roommate sent another text: [Elena, did you really flame Jade Montgomery?] I frowned: [Who is Jade Montgomery? Some streamer?] Roommate: [Oh my god, you don’t know her?! She’s the actress who plays the beloved supporting lead in that hit teen drama “Whispers in the Woods”! The show broke viewership records yesterday, so she promised her fans a gaming livestream and invited the male lead to play with her. She targeted you just to create some funny content for her stream. I can’t believe the person who flamed her was you… I gotta say, you’ve got guts.] I fell silent for a moment: [So the internet thinks it’s my fault? Did they even bother to look into the context?] [Context doesn’t matter! Jade has nearly twenty million followers across all platforms. Plus, her entire brand is the “pure, innocent sweetheart.” Who would ever believe she intentionally provoked you?] My roommate’s texts were full of helpless pity: [Sigh. You’re just going to have to take the hit and lay low.] Her advice was clear: play dead, ignore the hate, and wait for it to blow over. But when I got back to my dorm that afternoon and opened my laptop to write a paper, my notification tab looked like a war zone. [Bully bitch, go die!] [Who do you think you are, talking to our Jade like that?] [Did you think the whole world was going to baby you, you toxic freak?] [Post a public apology to Jade right now, or don’t blame us when we doxx your entire life!] Endless waves of vile, hateful messages flooded my screen like toxic waste. I read a few of them, my frown deepening. These fans weren’t just leaving hate comments; they were threatening to doxx my real identity. This was severely impacting my real life. I opened X (Twitter), drafted a post, and hit send: [I will not apologize. Since Jade Montgomery is a public figure, she should be even more mindful of her actions. She provoked me in-game first. After I quit, she dragged me into a custom room just to humiliate me. Me flaming her was entirely justified. If we’re assigning blame, hers is far greater than mine. Furthermore, she weaponized her platform to direct her fans to cyberbully and personally attack me, causing severe distress to my life. I expect her to clarify the truth and act like a responsible adult.] 04 I thought posting that tweet would at least make some of the more rational fans reconsider. I didn’t expect an apology, but I hoped they would at least back off. Instead, the comments under my post were a unified wall of vitriol: [Everyone knows Jade was just doing it for the stream! It’s obviously your fault you can’t take a joke and have a trash mouth. You almost made our Jade cry!] [Exactly. Jade might be soft-spoken, but that doesn’t mean her fans are easy targets.] [Why should we take the high road with a bully like you? We’re fighting fire with fire!] [Stop making excuses and get on your knees and apologize!] Shortly after, Jade Montgomery—whom I had tagged in my post—made a new tweet, acting incredibly wronged: [I’m so sorry for causing you trouble! I had no idea my fans would cyberbully you. But I really don’t want to fight about this anymore. Let’s just pretend this whole thing never happened.] My eyelid twitched violently. Pretend it never happened? So I just got publicly crucified for nothing? I immediately replied to her post: [You don’t get to decide it never happened. I am the one being doxxed and cyberbullied! My life has been severely disrupted. Are you seriously not going to tell your fans to stop?] Jade replied to me publicly: [But I didn’t tell them to do anything! They’re just worried about me getting hurt. You can’t blame them for caring.] Seeing Jade validate and defend their actions, her fans went into an absolute frenzy. In a single afternoon, my social media accounts were paralyzed by hate spam. Worse, someone actually managed to dig up which university I attended. They swarmed our university’s Reddit page and Discord servers, publicly cursing me out, wishing death upon me, and demanding that I apologize to Jade. 05 Apologizing was out of the question. And Jade had already blocked me anyway. Since logic wasn’t working, I decided to just log off for a few days and ignore the noise. However, I underestimated the madness of stan culture. During evening study hall, I had just sat down at my desk when two girls marched up to me, glaring menacingly: “Elena Vance, are you really going to be this stubborn and not apologize to Jade?” “You making a fool of yourself online is one thing, but you’re dragging our university’s reputation through the mud.” “Before the whole campus finds out it’s you, you better go post an apology on X right now. Otherwise, don’t blame us for exposing you to the school.” I slowly organized my textbooks, then looked up at them. “Did you not read my explanation on Twitter?” “So what? Jade livestreamed the whole thing! We know what kind of person she is. Who’s going to believe your side of the story?” “Since you don’t believe me, then get out of my face.” I scoffed coldly. “Careful, or I’ll flame you too.” The two girls: “…” They clearly hadn’t expected me to bite back so hard. They walked away with dark expressions, immediately pulling out their phones. I figured they were probably going to the campus forum to complain about how ungrateful I was. Other students in the room who had been thinking about confronting me saw how vicious I was and quietly backed off. Just as I thought I could finally get some peace and quiet— A basketball smashed violently onto my desk. My custom crystal water bottle shattered instantly. Scalding hot water splashed all over my notebooks and onto my arm, burning me so badly I gasped in pain. I looked up, furious. Joey Sterling, the captain of the varsity basketball team, was striding toward me with a face like thunder. “Elena, post an apology to Jade right now.” 06 Joey Sterling was kind of a big deal on campus. During my freshman year, I helped my roommate drop off a water bottle for him during practice. Since I was famously known as the “Ice Queen” on campus and had never given a guy water before, a rumor started that I had a massive crush on Joey. But when Joey heard the rumor, he publicly frowned and said: “Elena Vance? I barely notice her. I’m not interested in her.” After I found out, I never helped my roommate deliver water again. But the rumor that I was a pathetic, rejected “simp” for Joey spread like wildfire. I suppressed the throbbing pain on my arm and glared at him. “Are you insane?!” Joey scoffed, looking at me with pure disgust. “Anyone at this school who has my Snapchat knows I’m a massive Jade Montgomery fan. You probably got jealous, purposely stream-sniped her to get her attention, and then cursed her out.” I was absolutely mind-blown by his delusional leap in logic. “Joey, do you have brain damage? Getting matched with her twice was bad luck enough, you think I was stream-sniping her? Besides, I don’t even have your Snapchat! How would I know which celebrity you obsess over? And why the hell would I care?!” Joey crossed his arms, looking like he saw right through my “lies.” “You just admitted you matched with her twice. If you weren’t stream-sniping, how could it be such a coincidence? And you don’t have my Snapchat because I refused to add you. That doesn’t mean you aren’t stalking my other socials.” He took two steps closer, towering over me aggressively. “If Jade hadn’t been wronged, you would never have gotten an excuse to talk to me in your entire life. I’m not wasting my breath on you. Apologize to her. Now.” I let out a cold laugh. “Since you have such a strong sense of justice, how are we settling the fact that you smashed my bottle and burned my arm?” Joey furrowed his brows in contempt. “I can pay for your bottle, and I can pay your medical bills. As long as you apologize, money isn’t an issue.” “Is that so? Then pay for the bottle first. Four thousand, five hundred dollars.” Joey glanced at the shattered glass on the floor and laughed out loud. “You? Leaving aside whether that cheap piece of glass is actually worth four thousand, even if it is, do you look like someone who can afford a $4,500 bottle? You’re dead broke and trying to scam me.” 07 I rolled my eyes, reached down, and picked up a shard of glass that had the brand’s logo and an authenticity QR code etched into it. “Whether it’s authentic or not, you can scan this and find out. Once you scan it, remember to contact a luxury personal shopper to buy me a new one. If you don’t know where to find one, I can forward you a contact.” Seeing how brutally confident I was, Joey’s smug expression cracked for a split second. After a moment, he decided to pivot. “Elena, you’re just trying to get my attention, aren’t you? This is pathetic. If you refuse to apologize to Jade, don’t blame me when I expose your real identity on the campus forum.” I kept my face deadpan. “Then go expose me. I’m not the one in the wrong here. When your ‘goddess’ is forced to personally step up and clear my name, I’ll be holding you legally responsible.” Joey glared at me, furious, and turned to leave. “Wait.” “What?” He sneered, thinking I had changed my mind. I shoved the shard of glass with the QR code into his hoodie pocket. “You think you can act tough and just walk away? Don’t forget to pay for my bottle. I’m going to the campus clinic to get my arm bandaged. I’ll send you the medical bill tomorrow.” Joey looked at me in disbelief, like he was looking at an absolute psychopath. He clearly hadn’t expected me to actually demand the money. But honestly, I also hadn’t expected Joey to be that stupid. He actually went to the campus Reddit and made a massive post, confirming that I was the “Bully Girl” who cursed out Jade. Instantly, the forum was swarmed by Jade’s rabid fans. They dug up my student ID photo, photoshopped it into hideous memes and funeral portraits, and spammed them everywhere. The entire forum was flooded with threads demanding: “Elena Vance Must Apologize to Jade.” The rumors and outrage grew so severe that the university administration was forced to call me in, demanding I resolve the issue immediately.

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The “true heiress” suddenly showed up at our door, hugging my mom’s leg and sobbing that she was my parents’ biological daughter. My mom was stunned. My older brother was stunned. I was stunned. My brother waved his hand dismissively, declaring he’d take us all to get a DNA test. My mom, her legs weak, immediately called my dad: “Arthur, come home quick! Our daughter might have been switched at birth!” My dad was unusually calm: “I know.” “How could you possibly know?!” “Didn’t you complain that she was crying too loud and told me to change her? So I swapped her for one that didn’t cry.” “I TOLD YOU TO CHANGE HER DIAPER!” My mom’s devastated shriek nearly brought down the roof. 01 Halfway through typing up my copywriting draft, my mom walked into my room with a heavy, mournful expression. “Harper, I can’t hide this from you anymore.” “The truth is, you aren’t your father’s and my biological child. All these years, we’ve treated you as our own, and the thought of sending you away truly breaks my heart.” “But there’s nothing we can do. Your biological parents have come looking for you. They’re downstairs right now.” I sat quietly, watching her cry, and didn’t say a word. “And there’s the daughter I haven’t seen since the day she was born. You don’t understand, she looks exactly like me.” She buried her face in her hands, weeping uncontrollably. “Now that she’s back, I have no choice but to send you back to your real family. I just hope you won’t hate me.” I closed my laptop and said flatly, “Hand over the phone.” She looked confused but handed her smartphone over. I opened her reading app and deleted her recent history: The True Heiress vs. The Fake Daughter After the True Heiress Found Me, I Went Back to the Countryside to Farm The True and Fake Heiresses Tear Each Other Apart “Weren’t you still in the middle of reading The Billionaire CEO Falls for His Cleaning Lady? Why did you start reading new tropes?” My mom looked a bit guilty, her volume dropping and her words speeding up. “The author updates too slowly. I dropped it.” “Well, since you’re busy, I’ll just be going!” “Close the door on your way out, thanks!” My mom slipped out of the room in a flash, muttering under her breath, “So stiff and boring. You can’t even play along for a minute. You’re exactly like your unromantic father.” Seriously, whose mother treats internet soap-opera novels like the Bible and randomly tries to act out scenes from them? I sighed, opened my laptop again, and tried to get back into my writing flow. But the door flew open again. This time, it was my panicked four-year-old little brother, Leo. “Sister, it’s bad! Your cover is blown! My—my—my real biological sister is back!” Leo was only four, completely corrupted by being raised by our mom. In this entire house, he was the only one who actively participated in her weird, dramatic roleplay scenarios. Coupled with his toddler-level vocabulary, they were an unstoppable force of exhaustion. I kept my face completely straight. “You’re a step too late. I already exposed Mom’s act. Did she not warn you?” I pinched his soft, chubby cheek and smiled wickedly. “You’re done for. You aren’t Mom’s favorite little boy anymore. She’s not going to play with you.” He dodged me, trembling. “No, Harper, I’m serious! There’s an actual girl downstairs. She said you aren’t Mom and Dad’s real daughter. She said she is.” “Mom heard that and literally collapsed onto the floor! You have to come down and see!” When I went downstairs, the girl was curled up in my mom’s arms, sobbing. “Mom, I finally found you! You have no idea what kind of life I’ve been living all these years.” “Beatings and scoldings were a daily routine. Before my old bruises could even heal, they’d give me new ones.” “They’re incredibly sexist, too. Once they had a son, my very existence became a sin to them.” My mom looked a bit dazed. She glanced awkwardly at the girl, clearly unable to get into character, and then looked up at me. “Congratulations, Mom! Your dream finally came true!” I said. “She really does look exactly like you. We don’t even need a DNA test.” “No, wait, Harper, come help me up. My legs feel like jelly,” my mom called out, reaching for me. But the girl was incredibly sharp. She beat me to it, firmly gripping my mom’s arm. “I’ve got you, Mom.” “Call your dad and tell him to get home right now,” my mom ordered. “I’ll do it! I’ll do it!” the girl immediately volunteered. But a second later, she looked up at me with a lonely, shattered expression. “Sister… am I even worthy of having Dad’s phone number?” “Terrible acting, yet she loves the drama. Yep, Mom definitely gave birth to this one,” my little brother muttered from behind me. 02 “The suspense is gone. Sis, you’re cooked.” Leo’s tiny hands gripped the hem of my shirt tightly. “Sister, can I give myself custody to you? Take me with you when you leave.” My dad rushed back after one phone call. My older brother, Declan, emergency-canceled his business trip and raced home too. Compared to my mom’s frantic panic, my dad was remarkably chill. “Nobody needs to say anything. I already know about this.” “How could you possibly know?!” everyone yelled in unison. My dad looked at my mom with a mysterious glint in his eye. “You know perfectly well. It was your decision back then. How could you have forgotten?” My mom was even more bewildered. “My decision?” “Yeah. Back in the hospital, you complained our daughter was crying too loud, ruining your sleep, and you told me to change her. So, I picked out one that didn’t cry.” Declan swallowed hard. “Mom, you actually said that?” My mom stared blankly for a few seconds before screaming in absolute horror, “I TOLD YOU TO CHANGE HER DIAPER!” Well, whether this woman—who introduced herself as Chloe Jenkins—was actually my parents’ biological child was still technically unconfirmed, but the odds were at least 80 percent. After all, her face was a carbon copy of my mom’s in her twenties. It was pretty obvious I wasn’t the biological one. Once she realized her position was secure, Chloe began her performance. She dropped to her knees solemnly, crying beautiful, delicate tears. “Mom, Dad, I’m begging you, please don’t blame my sister. Even though she stole my life and enjoyed my privileges for all these years, it ultimately wasn’t her fault. Please don’t kick her out, okay?” “I don’t even have to call you Mom and Dad. I don’t even have to live in the main house. Just let me stay here as a maid! As long as I can serve you and see you every day, I’ll be completely satisfied!” My dad, a man who takes everything completely literally, nodded. “Is that so? Alright, we have a storage room we can clear out for you. It’s a bit small, but it’s easy to keep clean. Right, I’ll go print out our family’s schedule and the maid’s daily requirements for you.” Chloe’s face instantly drained of color. She looked at my mom pleadingly. My mom pinched my dad hard. “Shut up! I’ll deal with you later.” I started packing my things to leave, but my mom tearfully blocked the door. “It’s not like we don’t have enough rooms in this house. Don’t leave. You don’t even know where your biological parents are, where would you go?” “She’s right, sister, you can’t go back!” Chloe exaggeratedly grabbed my arm. “The suffering I endured… I could never let you go through it again. My adoptive parents, they aren’t even human. Just pretend you aren’t their child. Whatever you do, don’t contact them.” But whenever no one else was looking, Chloe would stare at me with pure venom. “Why are you so oblivious? Don’t you know this isn’t your house?” “You’ve been leeching off my family for over twenty years. Isn’t that enough? What gives you the right to stand here so confidently?” “If I’m leaving, I’ll leave after the official DNA test results come back,” I replied simply. I initially didn’t want to engage with her, but she haunted me like a ghost. She constantly tried to provoke me, hoping I’d leave out of shame. I was getting really annoyed. She was full of petty little tricks. Whenever I got a package delivered, she’d put on her passive-aggressive “innocent victim” act. “Wow, Sister, your taste is so good. This coat must be so expensive. Unlike me… I don’t even know how to spend money. I haven’t bought new clothes in years.” My mom felt terrible and bought her several expensive outfits. Chloe didn’t even try them on; she immediately returned them for cash. Then, she looked at my parents with tear-filled eyes and said, “Mom, Dad, it’s so hard for you to make money. I don’t need anything. Just being by your side is happiness enough for me.” 03 To showcase her extreme frugality, she saved the leftover chicken bones from dinner, insisting on using them to make soup for us the next morning. She purposely stood at the top of the stairs to provoke me, and the moment my mom stepped out of her room, Chloe grabbed my hand, yanked herself backward, and faked a fall down the stairs. Then she wailed at the top of her lungs, “Sister, why did you push me?!” “I know you hate that I came back and stole Mom and Dad’s attention! But I’m innocent! I just missed my parents! I just wanted to be with them! Is that a crime?!” I didn’t even have the energy to roll my eyes. I turned to go back to my room. “Harper, stop right there!” my mom yelled sharply. “Turn around and apologize to Chloe! Ask for her forgiveness!” “I’ve fed you, housed you, and raised you all this time. Even after finding out you aren’t my flesh and blood, I didn’t kick you out. Do you have absolutely zero gratitude?!” “I didn’t let you stay here so you could bully Chloe!” “This is crossing the line. You will give her a sincere apology right now, or I swear, I don’t care how much your father objects, I will throw you out!” My mom’s aggressive defense made Chloe gleeful. She tilted her chin up at me, her eyes practically glowing with triumph. I sighed, utterly exhausted. “Mom. Chloe is new here, so she doesn’t know. But surely you haven’t forgotten that we have security cameras covering every inch of this house?” “Want to go check the footage together?” My mom groaned and slapped her forehead. “Ugh, I forgot!” She quickly turned back to a pale, panicked Chloe to console her. “It’s fine, it’s fine! We’ll try a different trope next time. Let’s switch up your character arc, too. Make her a little dumber. I’m not really feeling this current vibe.” “When you first arrived, you had that fragile, broken, innocent-flower aesthetic going. That was great. I prefer that genre anyway.” My mom was speaking in a casual, collaborative tone, but it absolutely terrified Chloe. “Mom, what are you talking about? Do you think I’m acting? Do you think I framed my sister?!” “No, no, I didn’t mean it like that.” “If you didn’t, then why didn’t you stop her if you knew there were cameras?! Why did you let me look like a clown?! In your eyes, am I just some monkey in a circus?!” Chloe’s hysterical, self-righteous screaming completely bewildered my mom. “Wait, so was I supposed to mean it like that? Or not?” my mom asked tentatively, watching Chloe’s face carefully. Chloe suffered a total mental breakdown and ran back to her room, wailing. “Wow, high maintenance,” my mom muttered. “She’s no fun at all. Clumsy, stupid, and a terrible actress. I’ll just have your dad forge a fake DNA test and send her away.” Me: ? Her and my dad really were a match made in heaven. Speak of the devil, my dad walked in. “Meeting, meeting! Emergency family meeting.” “Are the DNA results back?” Declan hurried down the stairs. “It’s over. We already had enough weirdos in this family. Add one more, and I’m going to be driven insane,” Leo sighed like a grumpy old man. When Chloe came back downstairs, her eyes were completely red and swollen. “Since the results are out, what are you going to do? From what I know, Harper has quite a bit of real estate and savings under her name—gifts for her birthdays and coming-of-age from you all. I don’t mind if she continues to live here, but she needs to return the things that belong to me.” “And her engagement to the Vance family heir should be voided. Have you talked to the Vance family about this yet? Are they willing to cancel, or just swap the bride?” “Hold on a second,” my dad interrupted her magical barrage of demands. “Take a look at these results first.” She took the envelope suspiciously, pulled out the report, and her face drained of color. “H-how is this possible?” 04 “How is it possible that I’m not your daughter?!” “I explicitly overheard my adoptive parents saying they purposely swapped the babies! They wanted their own child to live a life of luxury. They hated rich people, which is why they abused me!” Her shrieks were sharp and hoarse, carrying the genuine despair of a shattered dream. It was actually quite believable. My mom quietly shuffled over to me and whispered, “When did you call your dad to rig this? Why didn’t I know?” I looked at her like she was an idiot. “How could I have done it? I’ve been with you this whole time. Besides, he couldn’t forge a medical document in just a few minutes.” My mom nodded slowly. “True.” “Is this the legendary telepathy of marriage?” “Someone must have swapped the hair samples!” Chloe glared at me, her eyes burning with pure hatred. “It was you, wasn’t it?! You couldn’t bear to give up this life of wealth and luxury, and you didn’t want to give my fiancé back! So you swapped our hair! You shameless thief! You’re just as disgusting as your biological parents! You don’t want to work for anything, you just want to steal the fruits of others’ labor! You cheap, disgusting snake!” She raised her hand and swung hard at my face. But someone stepped in and blocked her arm. Whoever it was either had incredible strength or Chloe was just too fragile, because she stumbled backward and collapsed onto the floor. The person who stopped her was none other than my nominal fiancé, Preston Vance. My dad glared at him with intense displeasure. “What are you doing here?” Preston smiled politely. “Arthur, didn’t you invite me over?” He played the part of the refined, humble gentleman perfectly, but my dad had always hated him. Rumor had it that my mom dated Preston’s dad, Richard Vance, back in their youth. They broke up over a misunderstanding, and Richard was so devastated that he relentlessly insisted our families arrange a marriage for our kids. My dad hated the idea, but out of deference to my mom, he reluctantly agreed. When my older brother Declan was born, my dad was so thrilled he set off fireworks for three days straight. But the following year, I was born. Ever since then, my dad had been secretly pulling petty tricks, trying to make my mom annoyed with Richard Vance so she’d break the engagement. He never succeeded. As time went on, Preston grew up, and my dad’s hatred transferred directly onto the son. So, I highly doubted my dad would willingly invite Preston over for something like this. Preston, being a master manipulator, immediately explained: “A few days ago, Arthur invited me over to discuss the engagement. He said there was a mix-up at birth in your family and wanted to ask if we should discuss dissolving the engagement, or simply swapping the bride.” “I happened to be out of town on business, and I just got back today, so I rushed right over.” “Hmph! The DNA results come out today, and you miraculously show up today. Who do you think you’re fooling?!” my dad grumbled. Clearly, Preston had seen right through my dad’s carefully laid trap and outmaneuvered him. I couldn’t help but marvel at Preston—he was an even sneakier fox than his father. Chloe immediately threw herself at him. “Preston! I’m your true fiancée! I’m the real flesh and blood of the Sterling family!” “Are you here to fight for justice for me?!” Preston maintained his gentle, warm smile. “You can eat the wrong food, but you shouldn’t say the wrong words.” With a swift, smooth motion, he turned the tables, grabbed her by the arm, and firmly deposited her back onto the floor where she’d been sitting. Then he obediently walked over and stood right next to me. “Harper, it’s too chaotic here. Want to come stay at my place for a few days to get some peace and quiet?” My dad was the first to jump up. “I can hear the gears turning in your head from across the room! Why should she go to your house?! The DNA results are out! Why are you stirring the pot? If you’re going to take someone, take the fake one! What gives you the right to hit on my daughter?!” “I don’t believe it! I demand a retest!” Chloe shrieked from the floor, furious that she was being ignored. 05 Declan also looked confused. “But Dad, Chloe really does look exactly like Mom. Could there have been a mistake? Why don’t we just do it again to be sure?” My mom spoke up, totally deadpan. “That’s not necessary. I have a very common face. It makes sense that she looks like me.” My dad feigned hesitation, glancing shiftily at Preston. “I guess doing it one more time wouldn’t hurt.” Great. After all that drama, we were right back where we started. My dad cleared his throat and looked at Preston seriously. “Right now, our daughter’s identity is in question. Are you planning to stay engaged to the Sterling family’s true heiress, whoever she is, or are you staying engaged to Harper? Take a stance.” Watching my dad rub his hands together, practically vibrating with excitement to use Preston’s answer to drive a wedge between him and my mom, made me want to facepalm. Time and place, Dad! All he cared about was macho posturing! Predictably, Preston drooped his head like a wilted flower. “Harper, look. Your dad doesn’t care about you at all. The second there’s a tiny possibility you aren’t his biological daughter, he tosses you aside without a second thought. He didn’t even consider how Eleanor would feel about it.” “I guess I’m just not as ruthless as him. Call me useless, but I can’t even think straight right now. I’m just terrified that Eleanor won’t be able to handle the stress and that it’ll ruin her health.” “Harper, Eleanor, please don’t misunderstand Arthur. I’m sure he didn’t mean it maliciously.” My mom was instantly moved. “You’re a good boy, Preston. I always knew you had a good heart.” She furiously slapped away my dad’s hand when he tried to grab her arm. “Get away from me!” “You’ll never change, you petty, jealous old man!” “How many times do I have to tell you? I have absolutely nothing going on with Richard Vance! We are just friends! But you refuse to believe it, and you constantly try to sabotage Harper’s engagement! What kind of father are you?!” “Eleanor, please don’t yell at Arthur. It’s my fault for being a disappointment and not earning his approval,” Preston said softly. His pitiful act only made my mom’s heart ache for him more. My dad ground his teeth in pure rage but didn’t dare talk back to her. Seeing my mom’s anger escalating, I quickly grabbed her. “Mom! The most important thing right now is to go redo the DNA test!” Afraid Preston would cause more trouble, I shot him a dirty look. “And you, knock it off. Unless you’re planning on feeding us your passive-aggressive tea for dinner, stop talking.” Just as we were all getting ready to head to the hospital together, my dad suddenly said, “There’s no need to go. I am absolutely certain Harper is our child.” He shot Preston a dirty look. “Little bastard. You didn’t fall for the trap.” Preston, whether to placate him or purposefully poke the bear, lowered his voice and apologized gently: “I’m so sorry, Arthur. It’s entirely my fault that your attempt to frame me failed. Please accept my sincere apologies.” My dad choked on his own breath, coughing violently and glaring daggers at Preston. “What is actually going on here?!” My mom, impatient as always, couldn’t take it anymore. “Are you joking around or not? Did you actually swap the babies back then?” “It makes sense. No normal person would mistake ‘change her diaper’ for ‘swap her with another human child’.” Chloe cried even harder. “It’s not true! I am your child! Mom, Dad, how can you refuse to acknowledge me?” “I was wondering why you disappeared for a few days! Turns out you were busy directing your own little scam to extort some rich folks! You little brat, I’ll beat you to death!” “You think you deserve to be a rich man’s daughter?! Know your place!” “And you dared to spread rumors that we stole a baby?! Do you have any idea that human trafficking is a felony?! I’m going to kill you!” 06 Out of nowhere, a rough, disheveled couple burst into the house. The man marched right up and grabbed Chloe, trying to drag her outside. But the woman was staring at me with a very strange look in her eyes. Her eyes were brimming with tears, and the way she stared at me gave me full-body goosebumps. Preston stepped smoothly in front of me, blocking her line of sight. My mom kept hitting my dad’s shoulder. “Stop stalling! What is actually going on?!” “Eleanor, allow me to guess…” Preston started. “Shut up!” my dad barked, cutting Preston off furiously. “You little punk! You steal my wife’s attention, you steal my daughter, and now you want to steal my big dramatic reveal?! Do you have a death wish?!” Sensing Preston’s threat to his spotlight, my dad finally spat out the truth. It turned out that while we were waiting for the test results over the past few days, he had been doing his own investigating. He tracked down the hospital records from that year, and combined with the DNA results, he finally pieced together the truth. Chloe’s parents really did intend to swap the babies. On that point, Chloe hadn’t lied. But what they didn’t know was… The night Chloe stayed with my mom, she cried constantly, waking my mom up dozens of times. Eventually, my exhausted, half-asleep mom snapped and yelled: “Arthur Sterling, go change her! Cry, cry, cry, she’s so loud!” My dad, who worshipped the ground my mom walked on, was already getting annoyed looking at the screaming infant. So he picked up Chloe and took her to the nursery to drop her off. That night, there were only five newborns on that floor. My dad simply picked the quietest, most pleasing-looking baby and brought her back. And that baby was me. So, my dad unknowingly swapped back his own biological daughter! Mrs. Jenkins collapsed onto the floor. “No… that’s impossible! The world couldn’t possibly be that coincidental.” Mr. Jenkins was frozen too. He stared blankly at his own hands, then at Chloe, who was covered in bruises, muttering to himself: “All these years… the kid I was beating was my own child?” “No, that’s not true! You’re lying!” “You just think I’m ruined because of how I was raised, so you’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?!” Chloe screamed. “I knew it! How could a rich family’s front door be so easy to walk through? You don’t even have an alarm on!” Mrs. Jenkins snapped out of her daze, her expression hardening. “Right. You’re right, honey. It has to be a lie.” “Arthur, how can you be so absolutely sure Harper is your biological daughter? Just based on one DNA test?” Preston asked, also genuinely puzzled. “Hmph!” My dad looked around the room smugly. “One DNA test might make a mistake, but all of them wouldn’t be wrong at the same time!” My dad reached into his coat and tossed a massive stack of DNA reports onto the table. I picked them up and looked. There was a test for me and Mom, me and Declan, me and Leo, Chloe and my Mom, Chloe and my Dad, Chloe and Leo, Chloe and Declan… Every single result explicitly proved that I was the Sterling family’s biological child. Chloe’s face went ghost white, and she suddenly fainted, collapsing onto the floor. After the chaos died down, my dad called the police. It turned out that during his investigation, he accidentally discovered the Jenkins parents were prime suspects in an active human trafficking ring. After they thought they had successfully swapped their baby for a rich one, they had a twisted epiphany: why not use this as a business model to get rich? The two “geniuses” got so excited by the prospect that they actually started doing it. As for why Chloe looked so much like my mom? It was because before she came to claim her “true” identity, she purposely got plastic surgery to mimic my mom’s face. According to Chloe herself, she only altered about forty percent of her features. She had originally worried that blood ties alone wouldn’t be enough to overcome two decades of emotional attachment, so she wanted a familiar face to stack the deck in her favor. She just never expected to run into someone like my dad, who completely ignored logic and ruined her entire plan by pure accident. 07 After Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins were escorted to the police station for questioning, Chloe didn’t stay idle. She started showing up around me constantly—or, more accurately, she started showing up around Preston. “Preston, I am so, so sorry. I never imagined my parents were people like that. I didn’t want to hurt Harper, and I honestly had no idea what the truth was. Can you please forgive me?” Preston completely ignored her and leaned in close to me, trying to earn points. “Do you think she has some kind of mental illness? Why is she apologizing to me?” “Is it really that hard to understand? Without that excuse, how else is she supposed to get close to you?” I smirked. Preston, who knew me too well, saw my smile and immediately waved his hands defensively. “Hey, don’t smile at me like that! This has absolutely nothing to do with me. Don’t you dare take your anger out on me.” “This private club is members-only, and the buy-in is at least a million dollars. You didn’t bring her in, so how exactly did she get past security?” I took a sip of my tea and stared him down. He looked even more aggrieved. “Obviously, someone behind the scenes is backing her up and giving her full access to my itinerary.” “I have no idea why Arthur hates me so much that he’d actually aid a woman who tried to ruin your life.” Here we go again with the passive-aggressive victim act. “Are you saying she used my dad’s membership card to get in?” “I wouldn’t dare say that,” he muttered, sounding incredibly bitter. Losing my patience, I kicked him lightly under the table. To my surprise, his face flushed slightly, and his voice went soft. “Why don’t you go ask Arthur yourself?” I thought about it and realized it was actually pretty strange. Even though my dad had been aggressively taking his marital frustrations out on Preston lately, he was still feeling incredibly guilty that his petty rivalry had been fully exposed to my mom during the DNA fiasco. But before I could even find my dad to confront him, I was kidnapped. When I woke up, the ground beneath me was swaying. I seemed to be on a boat. My hands and feet were tied tightly behind my back with thick rope. I could barely move. “Drive the boat out to the middle of the ocean. We’ll throw her overboard there. Nobody will ever find her.” The voice was distinctly familiar. I wiggled closer to the door, trying to hear better. The door pushed open. As expected, it was a familiar face: Mr. Jenkins. “So Chloe’s actual target these past few days was me. And here I thought she was after Preston.” “Even if you kill me, Chloe can’t possibly replace me and become the Sterling heiress. I really don’t understand. Did you guys go through all this trouble just to commit a felony?” “Trying to trick me into talking, huh?” My heart sank. I didn’t expect him to be so sharp. He instantly saw through my tactic. Then again, you don’t run a human trafficking ring for years without getting caught unless you have some brains. I was racking my brain, trying to figure out a way to save myself, when he suddenly started gloating. “You think I’m stupid? You think I’m going to tell you that Chloe and I split up? That she went to seduce your father while I came to kill you and make you disappear? When you go missing, your parents will definitely fight. Then Chloe just has to bat her eyelashes, drag your dad down with her, and force him to drop the charges.” “When that happens, everything your family owns will belong to us. Won’t the goal of swapping the babies finally be complete?” “Bob, why are you talking so much to her? We’re in the middle of the ocean. Just do it!” Mrs. Jenkins walked in, her face twisted into a vicious sneer. “If things hadn’t gone wrong, you should have been the one suffering all those years of abuse, not my precious Chloe! Whenever I think about that, I want to slice you into a thousand pieces! Today is your lucky day. I’ll make it quick!” She shoved a sharp knife into Mr. Jenkins’ hands. “Wait!” Fear pushed my brain into overdrive.

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